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"You made me?" he asked next in the tone of a child asking where babies come from. Of course, that would have been his next question -- had he known what a baby was of course. Unfortunately, he did not, so it did not stray from his mouth. "How was I made? How are other organisms made too?"

Of course, a variation of the not-so famous question could be asked, yes?

"Assisted?" Of course, what the scientist said came to be true. He had much more questions and it didn't take much more for him to fire them out. "Who assisted who? Did they assist you? What am I made out of? Are the others like me made out of the same thing?"

He turned for a moment and tried to catch a glimpse at the portruding member leading from his cerebellum to his central back.

"What does this do?"

"I have . . . powers?" he murmured to himself as he stared at his three fingered member, turning it about to examine the smooth structure of his hand like marble. What could he do? Could he make himself "hot"? Maybe "cool"? 7A289 looked at Nyx return to her labor and concentrated for a time ob her back, specifically the chair. Momentarily, the chair glowed a bright amber and inched away from the computer. This nearly made the Mewtwo flail with excitement. He did that . . . how wondrous!

"Why do I need a caretaker to leave The Labs?" he groaned next. Really, why did he need someone else? Couldn't he just leave by himself? It was never really a thought until now with this conversation. "Abras must be powerful than, if they can do what I can do."

Boast of a large ego? My, he hasn't met a certain someone yet has he? The Mewtwo began to marvel once again at his features though he has seen his hands and tail a thousand times. Yet, to him, they were a thousand piece jigsaw. He had them but still was unsure why exactly Nature -- or rather, the scientists -- gave them to him.

"Rules . . . " 7A289 knew about rules. He hated them, hated them a lot. He especially hated the rules his handler made him follow; they were just terrible. However, by some terrible twist of fate, it was asked where his handler was.

"I don't know . . . " he replied but didn't so much jump when he felt a solid hand grip his shoulder. It held the same pressure from that man to whom he came to dislike: his very handler himself.

"I'm right here." spoke the abhorrent man. His voice was devoid of most thought and emotion. It was hard to even imagine he was human. "Is something the problem?"

7A289 kept his eyes burned onto the fluffy hair of Nyx. He had to appear strong though fear deftly made itself apparent within the docile Mewtwo's form. He shook, tenderly, under the piercing grip on his shoulder. He pleaded softly to Nyx though no thought rang.

Please, I am begging you, get this man AWAY from me.

"I apologize." was all the Grunt replied, removing his hand from the Mewtwo's white form. He crooked an eyebrow at her reaction next, wondering ever so slightly if all women were this childish.

7A289 tilted his head at the exchange of words and stifled a light chuckle under his three balled limb at Nyx's expression. This was the first time he had ever laughed before and soon, that chuckled blossomed into a myriad of laughs as he held his gut and almost fell backward, his own Psychic catching his fall.

This time, his handler crooked an eyebrow at the Pokemon and wondered ever so slightly if all Mewtwo were this insane.

"I do not wish to." he responded and frowned. He turned to his handler next. "I do not wish to."

"You have no choice." the Mewtwo's handler added after her. "Come on."

"I do not wish to." he repeated again. He was intent on not returning to his cell.