The containment chamber was an icebox, the air thick with the acrid smell of ozone and burnt fur. Every light in the subterranean facility flickered frantically, casting a strobe-like effect over the chaotic scene. Alarm klaxons wailed, a shrill, incessant scream that tore through the sterile silence, signifying a breach, a catastrophic failure.
Inside the reinforced pod, Subject P-01 convulsed, no longer the controlled, shimmering creature it had been. Its body was a conduit of pure, destructive energy, arcs of raw electricity lashing out, not just spider-webbing across the floor but impacting the walls of its prison with explosive force. The transparent pod, designed to withstand megavolt discharges, was cracking, fissure lines spreading like spiderwebs across its surface with every violent surge.
Giovanni stood on the observation balcony, his usual composure fractured by a cold, searing rage. Guards behind him had their hands on their holstered weapons, but they were useless here. This was a force of nature, untamed and furious.
"Report!" Giovanni's voice was a low growl, cutting through the din.
Dr. Kuro, pale and sweating, stumbled through the data. "Neural activity is off the charts, sir! The cognitive limiter… it's completely overridden! He's fighting us! His emotional inhibitors have… shattered!"
"Shattered?!" Giovanni's eyes narrowed. "I gave specific orders to increase the dampeners! To push him! What happened, Doctor?"
Kuro stammered, "We did, sir! But… he adapted. He's learned to reroute the signals, to generate internal resistance! The sleep deprivation… the combat simulations… it didn't break him, it strengthened him! It… it forged his will!"
CRACK!
A deafening roar of energy erupted from the pod. The Pikachu's eyes, now glowing an infernal, hateful red, locked onto Giovanni. For a split second, a primal scream echoed in the chamber, not from the Pikachu's physical form, but from the raw, unbridled fury of its mind, a psychic shriek that ripped through the facility's dampeners.
The pod finally gave way.
With a shriek of tearing metal and an explosion of shattered glass, the Pikachu burst free. It wasn't flying so much as propelled by pure electrical force, a living, crackling bolt of lightning. It slammed into the reinforced obsidian-like wall, tearing through the plaque engraved with "PROJECT THUNDERBOLT" as if it were paper.
Guards screamed, firing their tranquilizer darts uselessly as the creature moved too fast, too violently. The air sizzled with ozone, making breathing difficult, as the Pikachu lashed out, not with specific attacks, but with pure, uncontrolled energy. Equipment exploded. Consoles sparked and died. Scientists scrambled, some vaporized by errant electrical surges.
"He's targeting the main power conduit!" a technician shrieked, pointing to a massive bundle of cables snaking along the ceiling. "If he hits it, the entire facility will—"
Before he could finish, the Pikachu launched itself, a terrifying golden blur, straight towards the conduit. Its body was a maelstrom of light, its form blurring, no longer recognizable as a Pokémon, but as a pure, destructive force.
"Lock down all sectors! Initiate emergency power transfer!" Giovanni roared, his face grim. "Do not let him reach the surface!"
But it was too late.
With one final, earth-shattering surge, the Pikachu slammed into the conduit. There was a blinding flash, brighter than anything seen before, followed by a concussive boom that rattled the very bedrock of the mountain. The entire facility plunged into darkness, the emergency lights sputtering on moments later to reveal utter devastation.
Silence.
No klaxons. No humming equipment. Just the slow drip of water from ruptured pipes and the acrid smell of burnt plastic and flesh.
Giovanni stared into the ruined chamber. The containment pod was obliterated. The reinforced wall was cratered and scorched. And in the center of the devastation, lying motionless amidst smoking debris, was a small, charred form.
The Pikachu.
It was utterly still, its fur blackened, its eyes vacant, a faint, lingering crackle of static the only evidence of the immense power it had once contained. It had overloaded. Burned itself out. A perfect weapon, destroyed by its own perfection.
Dr. Kuro, trembling, approached the wreckage. He didn't need to check vitals. He knew.
"Subject P-01… terminated," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Giovanni descended the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He looked at the remains, his face devoid of emotion. "A pity," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "All that potential… wasted."
He then turned to Dr. Kuro, his eyes like chips of ice. "You assured me this would not happen. You promised me absolute obedience."
Kuro recoiled, but Giovanni simply gave a chilling smile. "No matter. We learn from our failures, Doctor. P-01 taught us about will, about the spark of consciousness that cannot be fully extinguished."
He walked towards a damaged console, picking up a singed data pad. "We need something new. Something simpler. Something that can truly be controlled from the moment of its inception."
"But… sir, the genetic instability of the Pikachu line is immense," Kuro said, still shaking. "We pushed P-01 to its limits with Zapdos and Raikou DNA. What else is there?"
Giovanni turned, his shadow falling over the dead Pikachu. "We don't go forward, Doctor. We go back. Back to the beginning. To the purest form. Before the inherent will fully develops."
He looked at the data pad, a new, cruel light in his eyes. "We will not modify existing life. We will create it. From scratch. And this time, there will be no memories, no past, no 'self' to rebel."
Dr. Kuro stared at Giovanni, horror blooming behind his eyes. "You… you mean cloning again?"
Giovanni didn't answer. He didn't need to. The silence said more than words ever could. He simply handed the charred data pad to a nearby assistant and strode past the wreckage as though it were an old machine that had failed one final quality test.
The surviving scientists slowly followed, leaving behind the scorched crater that once housed the most dangerous experiment they had ever created. Sprinklers hissed above, releasing a mist over the smoldering floor, as if the facility itself was trying to cleanse the sin from its steel bones.
Kuro lingered.
He looked down at the remains of P-01—so small now, so still. All that power, all that rage… and still, in the end, a child of science born into a war it never asked to fight.
You were just a Pikachu, he thought. You never had a choice.
And yet, in those final moments, P-01 had chosen. He had looked into Giovanni's eyes. He had rebelled. He had felt rage, purpose, perhaps even… vengeance.
Kuro turned away.
--------------------
[Six Months Later – Deep Vault Sector C, Rocket Research Annex – Undisclosed Location]
The hum of cryogenic pumps echoed softly in the darkness.
Long corridors lined with glass tanks pulsed with sterile, blue light. Each one contained a faint shape—part embryo, part code, suspended in a silvery nutrient bath. This was no longer a lab for modifying life.
This was where life was written.
Dr. Kuro stood before a central console, eyes hollow, beard unshaven. Behind him, a small team of Rocket geneticists ran silent protocols, avoiding his gaze. The failures of the past haunted this room. And yet, progress marched on.
On the screen in front of him flickered a model—code and protein chains coalescing into something familiar: a Pichu silhouette, thinner, sleeker than the original P-01. Its tail was narrower. Its size… childlike. Innocent. But its genome was nothing short of a fortress.
"This one is built from zero," one of the scientists murmured, handing over a data slate. "No memory receptors. No organic childhood. Total obedience. We replaced the cognitive limiter with a directive core. Embedded instructions at the base code level. There is no self to rebel."
"And power scaling?" Kuro asked hoarsely.
"Capped for now. At 20% of P-01's output. But the directive core includes adaptive feedback loops. It can grow stronger, incrementally, based on proximity to threat stimulus and user loyalty parameters."
Kuro scrolled through the report, his hands trembling.
Project Thunderbolt was dead.
This was… something else.
Something worse.
"What's the designation?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't like the answer.
"PX-0."
Kuro's eyes narrowed. "Why zero?"
The head scientist, a cold-eyed woman named Dr. Veris, spoke softly. "Because it's not the first. And it won't be the last. We start from zero. This time, if it fails, we erase everything. And start again."
Kuro felt a wave of nausea but said nothing.
The screen pinged.
VITAL SIGNS: STABLE.
DIRECTIVE INTEGRITY: 100%.
SYNAPTIC DEVELOPMENT: ACTIVE.
Inside the nearest vat, a small form twitched.
A flicker of yellow fur.
Tiny ears.
And a spark—barely perceptible—at its cheeks.
Giovanni entered, flanked by his ever-present guards. He moved with slow precision, studying the vat with clinical detachment. His breath fogged the glass as he stood close.
"So this is it?" he asked.
Dr. Veris nodded. "PX-0. First of a new line. Cleaner genome. Hardwired loyalty. It will obey, not because we command it—but because it believes that is all it can do."
Giovanni gave a slow, calculating smile.
"Good. Then we begin deployment trials within the year."
He turned to leave but paused. "And Doctor Kuro?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You'll oversee PX-0's development personally. Full responsibility."
Kuro hesitated. "Sir, I—"
Giovanni's eyes pinned him like a dagger. "You failed me once. I'm giving you a chance to atone."
Kuro lowered his gaze. "Understood."
--------------------
[Three Days Later – PX-0 Testing Chamber]
The artificial room was constructed to mimic a natural forest—trees, grass, even a faint holographic sky overhead. Hidden cameras recorded every twitch, every glance. PX-0 stood alone in the center.
It looked… harmless.
Just a tiny Pichu with curious eyes and smooth, baby-fine fur. No sparks. No aggression.
But it followed commands with machine-like precision.
"Retrieve the item."
PX-0 dashed forward, snagged the test object, and returned in under two seconds.
"Evade target."
It darted between moving obstacles, faster than any Pichu had a right to move.
"Engage."
The training dummy lasted less than a second.
Dr. Kuro watched from the control room, expression unreadable. It was perfect. Too perfect.
"No emotion. No delay," muttered Dr. Veris. "Just execution."
"Does it… play?" Kuro asked suddenly.
Veris blinked. "Play?"
"You know. Do anything without being ordered?"
Veris turned to him, frowning. "Why would it?"
Kuro didn't answer.
Because P-01 had.
...
Footage played on loop: grainy, black-and-white security tapes of P-01 in its final days. Before the revolt. Before the escape attempt. Before the explosion.
One clip in particular.
P-01, alone in the chamber, sparks flickering around it… drawing something with its tail in the dust on the floor.
A crude shape.
A circle. Two ears. A crooked smile.
A self-portrait.
Kuro sat back, haunted.
They had created a god once… and destroyed him.
Now, they had built a doll.
---------------------
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"Log, entry 992."
Dr. Kuro's voice, hushed and fast:
"This isn't science anymore. It's rep—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—lication, echoes. Giovanni thinks by stripping away iden—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—tity, he's made the perfect tool. But he's wrong. Identity finds a way. Mem—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—ory finds a way."
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"P-01 was real. And I think… he knew what he w—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—as. Who he was. I think he dreamed no—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—t of war, but of freedom."
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"If PX-0 ever starts dreaming… if it ever remembers—"
Bzzzzzzzt!!!
"—then Arceus help us all."