"Who… are you? Human? Pokémon? Weapon… what do those even an?"
The vessel created by humankind was never ant to hold a monster's mind. The technology humans boasted about so proudly was blind—utterly incapable of perceiving the subtle, veiled psychic ripples that emanated from the weapon they'd crafted.
And then, it happened.
As wtwo's head shifted ever so slightly within its containnt pillar, a sudden voice pierced Logan —no, Logan—consciousness.
It was a psychic voice, one that bypassed language, cutting into the deepest recesses of his mind without warning, without permission. There was no ti to resist. No ti to respond. Their minds linked with a surreal intensity—an experience that defied all rules of reality and reason. Logan's body jerked in place, his face turning blank and distant. His black-and-white irises dimd and flickered faintly with a pale violet hue. This was no optical illusion—this was the human body's primal defense chanism. When a mind is invaded at such a fundantal level, consciousness instinctively retreats, shutting down the upper layers of awareness, like a computer entering safe mode. He had gone still—not dead, not unconscious, but ntally silent.
But then, sothing strange stirred beneath his skin.
His left arm twitched. Muscles and flesh rippled as though sothing alive moved beneath. It slithered unnaturally, like waves dancing along his bones. In the sa mont, Logan's eyes regained focus. The dazed emptiness vanished, his mind roaring back into motion. The psychic link, however, remained unbroken—firmly tethered between his consciousness and the entity sealed inside the containnt chamber.
"I feel… like you. Like? Yes… I like you? Who… who am I? Who are you? Am I human? Am I Pokémon? Or… am I a weapon?"
The voice echoed with eerie clarity inside his thoughts, still unsure of its own identity.
Logan's gaze drifted to the massive, transparent containnt tube—a technological sarcophagus resembling sothing out of myth more than science fiction. Within it floated wtwo: the artificial Pokémon created by Team Rocket. There could be no doubt now—this voice ca from that being.
Yet… it wasn't what he had expected.
He had imagined wtwo's voice to be booming and cold, a deep masculine growl laced with malice. But what he heard was the opposite—an ethereal tone, fluid and clear, bordering on musical. It was a voice that carried both the compassion of a weeping sage and the detachnt of a rciless machine. It wasn't distinctly feminine, but it definitely leaned toward that direction. There was hesitation in its phrasing, especially when it used the word "like", as though it struggled to interpret human emotion and vocabulary.
" Logan? Logan!"
From nearby, Professor Oak's worried shout broke the trance.
He and Blaine had rushed to Logan's side, both visibly rattled by the violet glimr they'd just witnessed in his eyes. As Pokémon experts—Oak a global authority, and Blaine a powerful Gym Leader—they recognized the signs imdiately.
It was psychic energy. Strong—far stronger than what even powerful natural-born Psychic Pokémon could emit casually.
And in this lab? Only one being could possibly be the source.
wtwo.
"Logan, listen to !" Blaine urged, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Don't link minds with it! Its ntal waves will tear through your consciousness like a storm! You'll lose yourself!"
Blaine, more than anyone, knew the scope of wtwo's abilities. After all, he was one of the scientists who helped bring it into being. He had studied its mind, its cells, its power. He knew the warnings written in red ink across every data file. Human minds could not withstand direct exposure to wtwo's consciousness.
"There's no need to worry," Logan said, his voice calm—almost soothing.
He turned to them and smiled faintly.
"I'm fine. I'm still ."
The tension in the air seed to lift ever so slightly.
Oak and Blaine exchanged a glance, still concerned but relieved to see that he wasn't a slack-jawed husk or a puppet under psychic domination.
Still, this changed everything.
wtwo had made contact—and not with a machine, not with a scientist—but with Logan.
A being made in isolation, forged to be a weapon… had chosen to reach out to the one person in this facility who wasn't trying to control it.
The question now wasn't whether Logan could survive the connection.
The real question was:
Could he teach wtwo what it ant to be more than just a weapon—before it was too late?
Underneath his sunglasses, Blaine's eyes flickered with astonishnt. wtwo's psychic power—though it had never been tested in actual combat—was terrifying enough just from the raw data observed by the instrunts. Under normal circumstances, if a human were to be controlled by wtwo's psychic force, they wouldn't be able to break free at all.
But what was truly terrifying was the fact that the specially designed containnt capsule didn't seem to restrain wtwo's psychic energy one bit. The possibility of this happening had been anticipated during the planning stages of wtwo's creation, which was precisely why the containnt vessel had been designed—to prevent its telekinesis from running rampant. And yet now, whether it was Blaine or the other experts in Team Rocket, it was clear they had all severely underestimated their own creation!
"I can feel that wtwo doesn't harbor any hostility toward . In fact, it's more like a newborn child—confused and ignorant of the world," Logan said, eyes shining as he turned to Blaine. "Tell , Blaine… can wtwo learn?"
The mont Logan linked his mind with wtwo's through psychic energy, not only did he not feel any pain or discomfort, it was quite the opposite. It was like a parched lake suddenly being filled with an abundance of cool water—it was intensely soothing. An innate sense of intimacy surged through him, stronger even than the bond between parent and child. It felt as though this connection had been etched into his very DNA.
And wtwo felt it too. That was why, out of all the humans in the research facility, it had chosen Logan for its first attempt at communication.
Logan's eyes dropped to his left hand, which was still wrapped in bandages. There had been a faint stinging pain there earlier. He understood now—the source of that deep connection and intimacy ca from here. His cells and w's cells had fused to create wtwo. At the sa ti, wtwo's cells had invaded his body. From what Professor Oak had said, those cells had even once entered his brain. Any normal human would've died long ago. No—the old Logan really had died. Only the consciousness and soul that now inhabited this body were different!
"Learn? You an, like a human learns? Other Pokémon probably can't, but wtwo absolutely can,"Blaine explained. "From the very beginning, Team Rocket wanted to implant it with a complete set of concepts in order to control it. wtwo's brain functions more like a supercomputer—it can store an imnse amount of knowledge. And yes, emotionally and consciously, it functions just like a human. Its emotional range doesn't exceed the bounds of humanity."
Blaine's gaze fell upon wtwo as he spoke, his thick eyebrows lifting slightly. The project had reached near completion, but wtwo had already exceeded the control paraters laid out in the original plan. He hadn't expected wtwo's psychic power to be strong enough to bypass the containnt field. This ant that even before Team Rocket could inject it with any conceptual programming, wtwo could already begin learning on its own—completely derailing the plan.
In fact, a Pokémon controlled by humans was inherently less dangerous—after all, humans could be reasoned or negotiated with. But if wtwo, such an overwhelmingly powerful Pokémon, were to lose all control, the resulting disaster might be far worse than anything it would do under Team Rocket's command. The vast difference between species could lead to fatal misunderstandings between humans and Pokémon.
But if it was this boy…
Blaine had a bold idea. One that would take careful execution. Otherwise, it might only lead to deeper guilt.
"You heard him, didn't you, wtwo? Or should I say, you've been hearing everything going on in this lab, haven't you?"
"What I want to say is—my body contains a part of you. And your body contains a part of . We are one. Inseparable. We are the sa. You've just been born into this world, so everything must feel new and confusing. But I want you to try and understand what things like family an… what friendship ans… what it's like to have people you care about, people who care about you."
"Family… Friendship… Loved ones… Friends…"
wtwo's voice echoed faintly in Logan's mind. It sounded unsure, almost lost. But slowly, its will began to firm, its presence becoming clearer and more solid. And then, the sensation of their shared consciousness faded.
wtwo had withdrawn its psychic link.
At this point, Logan had no ambitions. No twisted desires. He held no malice toward wtwo, nor any intention of manipulating it. His instinct for survival—that primal, deeply human drive—was the only thing pushing him to act. He wanted, desperately, to paint wtwo's blank-slate mind with his own colors. Survival was the most basic and powerful human instinct—a testant to humanity's refusal to give up.
From the way Blaine and Professor Oak spoke—from the pain and guilt that laced their expressions—Logan could guess what kind of inhuman experints this body had endured before his arrival. One glance at its frail, emaciated form told the story of a previous life full of tornt.
The naïve hope he'd felt upon first arriving in this world had long since faded. Team Rocket was no comic-relief villain group—they had their own "twisted sense of justice," sure, and fought for their goals with tenacity that sotis even shone with a strange light. But if achieving those goals ant sacrificing his freedom and life, Logan wasn't having any of it.
This wasn't the kid-friendly ani world where a Thunderbolt wouldn't even singe your clothes, or where trainers took hit after hit from Pokémon and walked away just fine. Looking back, it was laughable. If humans could really survive those kinds of attacks, what was the point of Pokémon in the first place? Might as well go into battle barehanded!
Logan didn't want to die. Every fiber of his being scread it.
And his instincts told him that wtwo… was his only hope for freedom, for survival.
The battles between Pokémon weren't just fun and gas anymore. They were deadly serious.
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