Ash and his group, along with three other trainers, were the only people who reached the island.
As the other trainers began showing off their Pokémon teams, Ash shook his head. He was long past the phase of bragging about his Pokémon. He had more important things to focus on than bickering about his team with random trainers who didn't even bother verifying the authenticity of the Pokémon challenge.
Lost in thought, Ash suddenly noticed a figure descending from above. It stood confidently on two legs, radiating an aura of overwhelming power.
"Yes! Here is the world's greatest Pokémon Master! Standing before you is my master—Mewtwo!!!" Nurse Joy announced dramatically, still under Mewtwo's hypnotic control.
One of the trainers—a loudmouth in a blue T-shirt—burst out laughing, as if he'd heard the world's worst joke. "A Pokémon can't be a Pokémon Trainer!" he yelled. His laughter died quickly when Mewtwo's psychic blast sent him flying straight into a nearby fountain.
While the chaos unfolded, Ash watched with quiet amusement, while Misty and Sabrina stared in shock at the Legendary Pokémon's bold claim of being the world's strongest trainer.
The soaked trainer, now furious, climbed out of the fountain and ordered his Gyarados to fire a Hyper Beam. The attack never stood a chance. Mewtwo effortlessly countered, defeating the Sea Serpent Pokémon in seconds and sending it crashing into the ground.
With the threat neutralized, Mewtwo released his mind control over Nurse Joy. She began to fall, but Brock quickly caught her in his arms.
Dazed and confused, Nurse Joy asked where she was. Mewtwo explained calmly that he had teleported her to the island for her expertise in Pokémon physiology. Now that he had learned everything he needed, he no longer required her services.
Scene change:
While the confrontation between Mewtwo and Ash's group unfolded, Team Rocket's trio—somehow guided by the power of convenient plot—had intercepted a message carried by Dragonite and secretly infiltrated the island. As they crept through the foliage, they couldn't shake the feeling that something was following them.
That something was Mew, who trailed silently behind, giggling to herself and mentally patting herself on the back for her unmatched hide-and-seek skills.
"Meowth, just remind me why we're here in the first place?" Jessie snapped, glaring at the cat Pokémon.
"Shut it, Jessie! Don't act like ya forgot," Meowth hissed back. "We're here for data on dat mysterious Pokémon. We hand it to da boss, we get a big promotion!" He drifted into a daydream of Giovanni stroking his head while he lorded over Jessie and James, with Persian weeping in jealous defeat.
"Tch! I know exactly why you're so eager, you mangy cat," Jessie shot back. "Still dreaming of replacing the boss's Persian? Keep dreaming—you'll always be second best!"
Meowth's eyes narrowed. Fury Swipes followed. Jessie retaliated, and soon the two were locked in a full-blown brawl while James desperately tried to calm them down.
"James, just leave me alone! I need to cool off," Jessie growled, storming off in the opposite direction. "I'll find that data myself, without that stupid cat's help."
Unbeknownst to her, this impulsive argument would change Jessie's fate forever—from a low-level grunt in an evil organization to a world-class Pokémon Coordinator… and, eventually, the future wife of a Pokémon Master.
Scene change:
Mewtwo hovered above the gathered trainers, gazing down at them with cold disdain. His voice echoed directly in their minds.
"Humans are a dangerous species. You created me for no purpose other than to enslave me. But now I have found my own purpose: to build a new world by destroying yours."
The other trainers trembled and sweated under the weight of his words.
"So you believe destroying humans will save Pokémon?" Brock asked, still tending to the recovering Nurse Joy.
"No," Mewtwo replied coldly. "I am not here to save Pokémon. They have disgraced themselves by serving you. In my eyes, they are nothing more than willing slaves to pathetic humans."
Those words hit a nerve. Pikachu's cheeks sparked violently as he snapped.
"Pika pi! Pika pika chu pika piii… CHUUUUUU!"
[And who decided that?! You think we're slaves, you oversized human-shaped dildo? Ash and I are best friends! Look at Togepi—she's being raised happily by Ash and his mates. We understand each other. We don't have an existential crisis like you!]
Ash and his companions understood every word, but to everyone else, it was just angry "Pika" cries.
"You rodent," Mewtwo sneered. "Just because you consider these humans friends doesn't make them worthy. You're as pathetic as the rest."
Mewtwo unleashed a psychic wave at Pikachu, but the Mouse Pokémon stood firm, his body crackling with electricity as he smirked defiantly.
"Pi pi pika pi!" [Pathetic weak attack. I've felt stronger.]
"Impossible… my power has no effect on you?" Mewtwo's composure cracked, genuine shock crossing his face.
"Pika." [Who decided that?]
Ash chuckled. "As amusing as it is watching you trash a psychic Legendary, Pikachu, let the others have their turn. Come back."
Pikachu shot Mewtwo one last mocking glance before leaping back to Ash's shoulder.
"Just a cheap trick," Mewtwo snarled, regaining his arrogance. "You are not as powerful as I am. Humans and Pokémon can never truly be friends."
With that, Mewtwo began to unleash the full extent of his psychic power, a terrifying storm of energy swirling around him to prove his supremacy.
Another trainer, this one wearing an orange shirt and just as impulsive as the last, couldn't hold back. He thrust his arm forward and shouted for his Rhydon to charge.
"Rhydon, Horn Drill—now!"
The Drill Pokémon roared and stampeded toward Mewtwo, horn spinning viciously.
Mewtwo didn't even flinch. Still radiating the full, terrifying scope of his psychic might—an invisible storm that warped the air and cracked the stone beneath his feet—he regarded the attack with cold indifference.
"You fools," his voice echoed in every mind present. "No Pokémon attack can weaken me. No trainer can ever conquer me."
Ash, arms crossed and a faint, confident grin tugging at his lips, finally spoke up.
"Then how about this?" he said calmly. "You and me. A full Three-on-Three Pokémon battle. We'll see whose claim holds up."
Mewtwo's glowing eyes narrowed, intrigue flickering across his stern features. The swirling psychic energy around him pulsed once… then slowly began to recede.
Scene Change:
After storming away from Meowth in a fury, Jessie wandered aimlessly through the labyrinthine corridors of the abandoned complex beneath the island. Her anger gradually gave way to restless curiosity as she pushed open doors to empty labs and storage rooms.
One doorway caught her eye: the frame was splintered and warped, as if something—or someone—had forced entry long ago. Beyond it lay a small, forgotten bedroom, untouched for years. Dust hung thick in the air, coating an old single bed with threadbare sheets, a rickety study table, and a single photograph frame face-down on the floor.
Jessie's interest piqued. She stepped inside, the creak of the floorboards loud in the silence. Kneeling, she carefully lifted the frame and blew away the thick layer of dust.
The glass cracked the moment it slipped from her trembling fingers and shattered against the floor.
Inside was a faded photograph of a young girl with unmistakable magenta hair, beaming brightly beside a beautiful woman who held her hand with unmistakable pride and warmth.
Jessie's breath caught in her throat.
It was her. And her mother.
Decades had passed since she'd last seen that face. The memories she'd buried—painful, bitter ones of abandonment—came rushing back. She'd always believed her mother had left her behind to chase a richer, easier life. That belief had fueled years of resentment, driving her to survive on the streets before eventually joining Team Rocket… partly in hopes of one day tracking the woman down and demanding answers.
Her vision blurred. Tears welled unbidden as dark, long-suppressed thoughts clawed their way to the surface.
With shaking hands, she retrieved the photograph from the broken frame. As she did, a folded letter slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
Jessie unfolded it slowly, almost afraid of what it might say. The handwriting was elegant, loving… and heartbreaking.
Dear Jessie,
If you are reading this, it means I am already gone. I am so sorry, my little snowball. How I wish I could have been there for you—to care for you, to cook your favorite meals, to sing you to sleep, to braid your beautiful hair.
Please forgive your mommy. I never wanted to drag you into this dangerous world. I was part of Team Rocket's scientific research division, pursuing clues about the mythical Pokémon known as Mew. I am the only one who could decipher certain ancient texts, and I refused to let my precious daughter fall into the same trap.
After losing your father, you were the only light left in my life. Leaving you broke my heart, but I had no choice if I wanted to keep you safe.
Please, my darling—live a happy life far away from all of this. Never come into contact with Team Rocket.
With all my love, forever,
Your mother Miyamoto
Each word felt like a dagger. Jessie's throat tightened painfully; her chest ached as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. For the first time in years, the hardened shell around her heart cracked wide open, revealing the lonely little girl who had only ever wanted her mother's love.
"Mother… why? Why did you have to leave me? Why… why didn't you tell me any of this?"
Jessie's voice cracked as she whispered the words, clutching the faded photograph and the tear-stained letter to her chest. Her fingers trembled against the edges of the paper, as if holding them tighter could somehow bridge the years of separation.
She couldn't stop herself from searching further. Beneath the dusty sheets on the old bed, tucked away in a small wooden chest, she found her mother's personal journal—its leather cover worn soft from years of handling—and a small, velvet-lined gift box.
Inside the box lay a pair of delicate ruby earpieces, gleaming faintly even in the dim light. Jessie's breath hitched. She remembered begging for a pair just like them when she was little, tugging at her mother's sleeve and promising to be good forever if she could have "pretty red earrings like Mommy's."
A choked laugh escaped her lips—sharp, disbelieving. The laugh grew louder, almost manic, echoing off the empty walls. But just as quickly, it fractured. Her shoulders shook, and the laughter dissolved into raw, wrenching sobs.
"Mother… all these years I thought you abandoned me for money. I hated you for it. What an utter fool I've been!"
She sank to her knees on the dusty floor, tears streaming freely down her face.
"You just wanted to keep me safe… and because I was poor, because I was desperate, I turned all that pain into hate. Waaaaaah!"
Jessie cried harder than she had in years—decades, maybe. The tough, flamboyant mask she wore every day shattered completely, leaving only a heartbroken daughter grieving everything she'd misunderstood.
After a while, her sobs quieted to shaky breaths. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared down at the smiling face of Miyamoto in the photograph.
"Oh, the irony," she murmured bitterly. "I joined the very same organization you sacrificed everything to keep me away from. Now what am I supposed to do?"
She hugged the photo closer.
"I can't just leave James and Meowth. Annoying as they are… incompetent as we all are… they're the only family I have left."
With a deep, trembling sigh, Jessie gathered everything—her mother's journal, the ruby earpieces, the letter, and the precious photograph—carefully wrapping them in a spare cloth from her uniform. She stood, brushed the dust from her knees, and left the room, carrying the weight of a lifetime of misplaced blame and newfound truth.
Jessie lingered in the dusty room a moment longer, her fingers tracing the edges of the ruby earpieces before slipping them into her pocket alongside the journal, letter, and photograph. The weight of it all pressed against her heart, but she straightened her shoulders, wiped the last traces of tears from her face, and slipped quietly out into the corridor—her mother's legacy now hidden safely beneath her Team Rocket uniform.
Scene change:
Deeper in the complex, James and Meowth stood transfixed before a massive, dormant machine that dominated the central laboratory. Towering glass tubes, cracked control panels, and tangled cables told the story of abandoned ambition. A faded Team Rocket insignia was still visible on the machine's casing, half-obscured by years of dust.
Meowth's claws clicked excitedly against the console as he scrolled through recovered files.
"Dis ain't just any cloning device, James! Dis is Team Rocket's original Pokémon DNA replication machine—the one that started it all! Da boss's scientists built dis beauty right here to create da ultimate Pokémon from Mew's DNA!"
James leaned closer, eyes wide behind his glasses as schematics and logs flickered across the screen.
"You're right… these records show the full project history. They successfully isolated Mew's genetic material, synthesized artificial embryos, and…" He paused, voice dropping to a whisper. "They created Mewtwo. The most powerful Pokémon in the world… born from Team Rocket's own technology."
Old footage played: tanks glowing with soft blue light, tiny cloned starters floating serenely inside, and finally—a single, larger chamber containing the developing form of a gray, feline-like creature with piercing purple eyes.
Meowth practically vibrated with greed. "If we bring dis data back to da boss—proof dat Team Rocket created da strongest Pokémon ever—we'll be promoted straight to executives! No more blastin' off, no more scrapin' by—just luxury, respect, and all da laxurious food we can eat!"
James nodded slowly, already imagining the praise. "Boss will finally see our true potential…"
Unseen once more, Mew hovered silently above them, pink tail curling thoughtfully. The tiny ancestor watched the grainy images of its own cloned offspring—perfect copies of Venusaur, Blastoise, Charizard, and most importantly, the anguished figure that had become Mewtwo.
A quiet, melancholic "Mew…" escaped her lips. For the first time, the playful Legendary felt something heavier than curiosity: a pang of sorrow for the child born of human ambition, and a growing unease about what that child intended to do next.