Legacy

BY : PanOnFire
Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 3254
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, or anything to do with it. I did not make any money for writing this.


He awoke with a start, springing upright in his bed and instantly alert. Heart soaring and mind racing, he tore off his drab, sweat-drenched uniform and tossed it in the pile with the rest.



Jack glanced quickly at the clock through the bars of his cell; his door should be opening automatically in the next few minutes.



He paced back and forth, and back and forth again in his small confine, before sitting down on the metal bed.  Taking slow, deep breaths he tried to calm himself and clear his mind.



Try as he may, it was no use.



For the first time in years Jack felt excitement, purpose, and hope coursing through him.



He stood up, and looking down he noticed that in his excitement he had forgotten to dress himself. He stifled a laugh, reminding himself that now was not the time for laughter. Now was the time for focus. He would have to suppress any physical manifestation of his joy, lest he attract any attention. Not that most people here ever gave him more than a passing glance anymore.



He paused for a moment to reflect upon his plan, and for the tiniest instant, Jack felt doubt. The Pokémon had come to him in a dream, after all. Suppose he had lost it? He had been living too long like this, in this place. Perhaps it had taken more of a toll on his mind than he thought.



No, he thought to himself. The dream was far too real, and the Pokémon that spoke to him in the dream had provided proof that he was not simply delusional. After promising to free him once he had shut off a certain valve in one of the upstairs laboratories, the Pokémon had told him that the computer used to control the valve would need the access code “Decision”. If this code unlocked the computer, Jack would know for sure that the Pokémon in his dream was real. The Pokémon…what had it called itself? Mew, he recalled vaguely. Mew.  



With a loud buzz and a click, the door opened wide, and Jack grabbed his mop and bucket, pushing them to the end of the empty corridor where the elevator waited for him. He punched the button for the third floor, where his destination lay, and as excitement bubbled through him he could not help but think that this thirty second elevator ride must be the longest that anyone had ever taken.



The door dinged open, and Jack’s bucket sloshed and almost lost some water as he accelerated quickly out of the elevator and pushed the bucket down the hall. He passed a series of large windows looking into the lab as he approached the door; the room was still dark, likely he was the first person to get there today.  



He found the door unlocked, and sighed with relief. Breaking the windows would have set off alarms, and he wasn’t sure how long it would take his rescue to arrive after he shut off the valve. He scratched the stubble on his chin. Perhaps he should have asked about that, among other things, before Mew had disappeared. He probably wouldn’t have been able to, though, the Pokémon seemed to be in quite a hurry.



With a shrug he shouldered the door aside noisily and dragged his cleaning ensemble inside. He set them against the wall, and took in the lab, scanning for anything that looked like a control panel.  



With a start he caught the shadow of a man standing in front of the tanks, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his lab coat and eyes locked upon the tank in front of him. He was so transfixed that he did not even hear the less-than-subtle entrance.



Jack would have recognized that odd combination of arrogant posture and freakishly narrow shoulders in any lighting, and as Dr. Brue caught a faint reflection in the tank, a hard wooden mop met his head and he crumpled with a grunt.



If there had been more time, he would have perhaps savored what had just transpired. But the rest of Team Rocket would be waking up and moving about soon, and Jack was not eager to be caught. So he bolted the entrance to the lab, and moved past the unconscious figure to where there sat the only computer-looking device in the room.



The machine, like most-anything used by Team Rocket, was years ahead of what was available to the rest of the world. It took Jack a moment to figure out that it was touch-activated, and after analyzing his fingerprints on the screen the machine denied him access until he entered the word “Decision” in the access prompt. His fingers, trembling with excitement, missed their mark several times and Jack swore aloud. Eventually he did get past the prompt, and he laughed with delight, knowing for sure now that he would soon be able to leave this place. He found the Tank Controls, and navigated his way through a myriad of screens and options until he found one that allowed him to shut off the oxygen flow to Tank 2.



A warning box popped up. Are you sure you want to proceed? And Jack stabbed the “Yes” button with his index finger so hard that he thought he might crack the glass. There was a mechanical click as he pressed the button; presumably the computer had just done as he asked.



Presently he wondered how long it would be before rescue arrived, and what form it would take. Jack knew more intimately than anyone that there was no force left in the world strong enough to storm this place with guns blazing. The thought troubled him, but dwelling on doubt was senseless, so he put it aside in his mind.



By his estimation, the tank had been without oxygen for a solid minute, and he began to grow restless. He decided to conceal the unconscious form of the good Doctor while he waited, and because he didn’t want to risk someone seeing the light turned on, he pulled out his flashlight so that he might find a good spot.



He swept the room with the beam, and in his search the light came to rest on Tank 2, and what Jack saw at first confused him, and then made him feel sick. Inside Tank 2, glowing under the beam of his flashlight, floated the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.



 It was purple-grey, from its head all the way down to its three-digited toes, with an elegant, powerful purple tail that was as long as the creature was tall coiled around its midsection. Slender arms ending in hands with three fingers rested across its chest. Her chest, Jack noticed; and there she floated peacefully, cut off from her source of precious, life-giving oxygen.



He tasted bile as he hastily turned the oxygen back on. If Mew was able to know when Jack had turned off the oxygen, surely Mew would also know that he had turned it back on.



He cursed loudly and passionately, and slammed his fist the computer screen in front of him with such force that he would have cried out in pain if he hadn’t been so completely overwhelmed with frustration and rage. He grabbed his bucket, lifted it above the console and poured the contents all over the super-computer, swearing some more, then launched the bucket at one of the windows with a roar.



 “You lied!” He shouted into the air. “I know you can hear me, you filth!”



As if in response, a siren began to blare. Messing with the computer must have tripped an alarm.



He thrust a finger accusingly at the creature in the tank.



“You owe me. You fucking owe me for this.”



Still she floated; blissfully unaware of the predicament she had put him in.



An insistent BANGBANGBANG at the door turned his attention away from his rampage. Security was already trying to get in. Jack knew that it wouldn’t be long before they broke down the door, and he also knew that rescue would no longer be coming.



He sighed, and calmly walked over to where he had left his mop, and he picked it up. He could see close to a dozen heavily-armed grunts through the windows, but the lights in the lab were off, so they could not see him.



He walked back over to the tanks, where the grunts would only have room to come at him two or three at a time. They would not be allowed to fire their weapons in the lab.



Jack broke the mop in half over his knee, producing two sharp sticks each about three feet long. He gestured with one of his weapons to the slumbering occupant of Tank 2, this time with resignation, not anger.



“You owe me.”



With a loud CRACK the door burst open, and the grunts flooded into the room with their weapons raised. Someone flicked on the lights.



Jack turned to face the intruders, a jagged wooden stick in each hand, and a weary expression on his face.



“You’ll have to come with us, now” said one of the grunts.



“No.”



“Don’t be that way, it’s going to happen.”



Jack tightened his grip on his weapons. “Come on, then.”



The grunts, weapons still raised, looked nervously at one another, but nobody moved. Suddenly a low moan came from the corner of the room where Jack had hid the form of Doctor Brue.



“Sir!” exclaimed the closest Grunt, and he was glad to have an excuse to not be the first to engage the man with the broken mop. He ran over and helped the Doctor to his feet. Dr. Brue rubbed the lump on the back of his head, and together they made their way over to the rest of the soldiers. Jack watched them, but did not move.



The Doctor, now coming to his senses, examined the situation in his perpetually calm demeanor as he adjusted his glasses. When he saw that the console had been destroyed, his eyes widened ever so slightly. This was likely as much emotion as he had ever shown. Jack saw this, and was glad.



“Please restrain him.” He did not speak loudly, but his voice carried a dangerous sincerity. The closest grunt, fifteen feet from the target, looked to the two soldiers beside him, and together they gathered the courage to begin a slow advance.



“With your stunners, you dolts.”



And as they reached into their belts, Jack knew that he would only have one chance. He took aim and with all the rage and power that he had, he hurled the sharpened stick in his left hand at the Doctor’s abdomen.



His heart sank as the weapon instead buried itself his target’s left thigh, knowing that medical help would arrive before the scientist’s life was in any danger. The Doctor crumpled into the grunt next to him without so much as a cry, and the grunt kept him on his feet.



“Shock him until the batteries die.”



The two grunts raised their stunners and took aim, and all was still.



Jack clenched his fists and drew a breath without a sound.



Suddenly the piercing sound of glass shattering behind him broke the silence, and as Jack turned to see what was going on, his eyes locked with the creature’s own, as she sat just inches from him in the broken tank. They were a deep, majestic purple, and full of an indomitable ferocity that paralyzed Jack where he stood. Amniotic fluid poured out all over his feet and legs, but he was no longer aware of anything but the monstrously overpowering presence that swiftly filled his mind. He felt a consciousness force itself into his, and for a moment he was no longer Jack; whatever had entered him had dominated his thought completely. He lay naked before the intruder, feeling more vulnerable than anyone had ever felt before.



And then as abruptly as it had come, the presence was gone, and Jack suddenly felt an aching loneliness within his soul.



Her eyes tore away from his, scanning the room, but Jack was still overwhelmed with confusion and emotion, and found he was unable to move, unable to think. The Rockets behind him were at a loss, unsure of what they should do.



“Sir?” inquired one of the grunts. But the entirety of Dr. Brue’s attention was fixed upon the purple-gray Pokémon.



A ringing sound began to build in the air, and as Jack regained his senses, he saw that the Pokémon’s eyes were glowing a pink-purple.



Jack held his head as the ringing quickly escalated, growing louder and louder until he could hear nothing else. He fell to his knees, hands uselessly covering his ears, unable to hear the siren, unable to hear the grunts’ panic behind him, unable to hear anything. Then everything began to shine with a bright white light, which intensified with the ringing until the light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The light burned his eyes, and he could see and hear nothing but the burning white ringing.



Jack could not see the Rockets writhing in the same agony behind him. He could not see Dr Brue’s eyes filled with wonder and joy, still staring at the Pokémon, even as he too clutched his head in pain. And he did not even feel when a panicked Grunt pulled the trigger on his rifle, and a bullet ripped a hole in his shoulder.



And then when Jack felt like the ringing could not get any louder and the white light could not possibly become any brighter, everything went black.



 





 



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