Title: The Pikachu Project

Rating: PG - 13 for some violent content and language.

Summary: Pikachu was one of the first successful genetically engineered experiments by Team Rocket, and, under some unusual circumstances, is now trained by Ash Ketchum. Follow the story of what started it all.

A / N: This is a fanfic based around the theory that Giovanni is Ash's father, as was said in the stage show, Pokemon Live. Also, much of the reference is taken from the Japanese CD Drama. And, I refer to Pikachu as an "it" but I am aware that Pikachu is most likely a "he." Read and REVIEW please!

Disclaimer: I swear I don't own a thing, really…. The only things I own are my plastic Jessie and James dolls held high up on my T.V. for easy hero-worshipping access.

"Its powers exceed its evolutionary level…" -- Meowth, Ash Catches A Pokemon

The Pikachu Project

By: Tear22

Chapter One: The Beginning of The End

"Pikachu?"

A number of Team Rocket scientists stood crowded around an operating table, pushing up against each other in an attempt to see what they had created, their ink pens beginning to stain through to the clipboards placed shakily in their bloodstained gloves.

"Pika?" the creation in question murmured, the cord tied around its neck making it increasingly difficult for it to breath.

At the sound of the Pikachu's small squeak the scientists immediately began writing, completely unaware of the fact that the Pokemon was indeed trying to escape. As its vision began to restore, it became aware of the people around it, immediately wrapping his tattered tail around its small body in an attempt to shield itself from any harm. It started gnawing slightly on the straps that held it down to the cold metal of the operating table, leaving small indents where its sharp teeth grinded against the elastic material.

"Sir," one of the members addressed the lead scientist, lightly tapping him on the shoulder. "The Pokemon," he said, pointing to the struggling Pikachu.

"Don't worry," he replied, giving the other scientist a casual flick of his wrist. "It's much too weak to possibly use an electric attack. But just to be on the safe side," he said, walking over to one of the nearby counters, "we'll put it to sleep." He pulled out a needle from one of the drawers, proceeding to inject the needle containing an aqua color liquid into the Pokemon's skin, leaving the injection to immediately take effect. The Pikachu slumped over, its fur rising and falling in ragged breaths.

"But Dr. Craig, sir," another member of the team protested, "shouldn't the Pokemon be awake to study?"

"No matter," he replied. In response to the other member's raised eyebrows, he added, "We just needed to make sure that it wasn't going to die," he said, pointing to a heart monitor that had started beeping rapidly when the Pikachu had first awoken. That indicated that this creation wasn't going to be like the rest of their failed attempts to create the Pokemon the Boss had been so insistent on.

"Speaking of which," he said, looking over his wire rim glasses to see several large body bags piled up in the corner of the laboratory. The stretched, bloodstained cloth covered up dead Pikachus, leaving several of the Pokemon's limp, gagged tails to poke out from under the red tinted fabric. "I think it's about time to take out the trash."

With this having been said, he proceeded to yell out "Grunt!" at the top of his voice, his loud tone being somewhat unexpected since he had such a small frame. And in a matter of seconds, a Rocket Grunt appeared by his side, surprisingly enough having had been allowed to stay in the laboratory throughout the experiments.

"I need you to take those failed experiments to the incinerator to be disposed of."

"But, sir –

"But nothing, Eric. Take the Pokemon to the incinerator. Now."

"Yes sir," the Grunt replied, lowering his head in defeat as he began to sling the body bags over his shoulder, stumbling slightly as he exited the laboratory.

"I hate this job," he thought, the dead Pikachus' foul odor making him wince slightly as he made his way to the incinerator, stumbling under the weight of the lifeless Pokemon.

Being the Grunt that "took out the trash" had made him rather unpopular among the Dan'in and he often was the first to have food slung at during the occasional food fights that would break out among the Grunts at the Team Rocket Headquarters cafeteria. Eric was often avoided at HQ's because not only did he dispose of deceased Pokemon, but humans as well, and he was frequently picked on for not only being the person felt responsible for getting rid of so many member's partners, but also because he technically was underage.

Being scarcely the age of ten, the only job the Boss felt suitable for him was to dispose of the dead humans and Pokemon. He also was slightly scared of not only the incinerator, but also the people that inhabit it. More than a dozen Rockets seemed to live at the incinerator, repeatedly attempting to jump in the fire to save their dead partner, even though their partner was very well burned more than a year ago. Many of them looked as if they hadn't eaten in quite sometime, and their hair messily stuck to their sweaty, pallid faces from the heat that emitted from inside the incinerator, which resembled a large laundry shoot from outside in the hallway. Eric half wondered why these Agents hadn't already been sent to the Rocket Asylum, seeing as they were unfit for any job the Boss might give them. He also didn't especially like seeing the sane ones either. Everyday he would have to try and console at least two mourners, and at times would have to open a body bag so they could give their final farewells, the dead member's pale fingers being wrapped around tightly to the mourner's. Eric had even learned somewhat of a priest's blessing, having had frequently been asked to bless the dead person, or rather what remained of the person's flesh once having been thrown into the fire.

As he reached the incinerator, he realized Margaret was there again, having had lost her partner a little over two weeks ago. She had been visiting the incinerator since her co-worker's death, and had seemingly been slipping away just like the regular visitors.

"H- Hello," she said, brushing away the darkened ash off her uniform. She had been peering in through the vent, and having to hold the hot metal of the incinerator's small door open for a number of what Eric guessed to be hours had left her white gloves a charcoal black color. Her pupils had been reduced to slits as she had watched the flames lick up a field agent that had been killed during a mission in the late hours of the previous night.

"Hi," he simply responded, beginning to stuff the body bags through the vent with some difficulty, one of the Pikachu's decaying tails nearly poking him in the eye. "How can you stand the smell all day?" he asked, shielding his nose and mouth with his hand as he started to cough.

Although several air vents had been stored throughout the large incinerator, much of the odor penetrated through the main vent, leaving an awful smell of burning flesh throughout the hallway.

She gave no response.

"It looks like Hell, doesn't it?" she asked, more to herself than anyone.

"I'm afraid I've never seen Hell," he answered, stuffing the last of the body bags in through the heated vent. As he finished, he took a rusted key out from his pocket and had begun to lock the vent, as he was supposed to, until a swift tug on his shirt caused him to stop mid-turn.

"Please don't lock it," Margaret pleaded, her eyes immediately beginning to fill with tears.

"I'm sorry," he said, beginning to pry off her sweaty hand from his uniform, "I have to. The Boss was already getting on my case last week for forgetting to lock it, and would surely be mad if I forgot to lock it again."

She whimpered slightly, but nodded her head to indicate that she understood.

"Why don't you go back to your room?" he suggested, giving her an awkward but comforting pat on the shoulder with some difficulty, seeing as she was nearly two feet taller than he was.

"Yeah sure," she sighed, starting to make her way down the hallway, but nearly tripping on Derrick's leg. He was sitting down with his back against the wall, taking in short ragged breaths as he slept next to the incinerator's vent, his head rolling to one side. He too had recently lost his partner, Kelley, and had so obviously, but against the Boss' wishes, fallen in love with her.

He didn't stir as Margaret embarrassingly placed his leg back in the position it had been, and continued on her way to the third floor where her room was located.

Once Eric got back to the laboratory, he was in for quite a surprise. Many of the scientists were sprawled out on the floor, clutching their chests and gasping for air. Apparently, the Pikachu had woken up, even under such a heavy dose of medication, and had caused a great amount of trouble for the scientists. Some of the tables had overturned, and several areas had been showered with broken test tubes. Some of the shattered glass had cut into the member's skin, leaving bloodstains the size of handprints on the tiled floor. Pikachu was found sleeping underneath the operating table, looking relatively pleased with itself.

"I can't believe that thing," Dr. Craig was telling Eric, having had previously flung himself into an awkward sitting position on one of the chairs. "It's incredibly powerful."

"Well, I'm sure that's what the Boss wants for his fiancé," Eric said, flinching slightly as he said fiancé, still finding the concepts of girls in general a nasty one.

"Yes, of course. Delia Ketchum, that blasted girl he's been after ever since his mother gave him the position," he spat, hanging his head over the top of the chair and allowing several strands of his black hair to fall in his face. "She's more trouble than she worth."

"I suppose so," Eric said, bending over to look under the operating table, finding Pikachu still sleeping. "Shouldn't this thing be tied up, or something?" he asked, noticing electric sparks still emitting from the Pokemon's crimson cheeks.

"Yeah," he panted, " but we're getting some rest before we try to experiment on it again. We've put in under heavier medication, so it should be fine for a couple of hours…"

Over the next few days, loud shrieks of various ranges could be heard from the lab as well as several pieces of broken glass were hurled throughout the hallways when Pikachu decided on using electric attacks, ultimately shattering any glass in the laboratory.

The funny thing was that Giovanni stayed clear out of the picture until several of his underlings along with the lead scientist brought the struggling Pokemon into his office in a cage, the bars surrounding the Pikachu looking well worn from the various tackle attacks it used against the bars while desperately trying to escape.

"Boss," the lead scientist spoke up, pushing his glasses up along his nose, "we have the Pikachu you wanted."

"Well," Giovanni said, turning around in his chair, "it's about time you got that thing to me. I'm giving it to Delia as a wedding present, so you better have not screwed it up," he said, mindlessly stroking the gold wedding band wrapped tightly around his finger.

"We can assure you that…" He stopped speaking, taking notice that Pikachu had started nibbling on his hand that held the cage, frantically trying to break his skin. "…It's in great shape."

"Good."

Giovanni's Persian that had been sleeping suddenly woke up, its black and cream-colored ears perking to the squeaking sounds coming from the cage. It got up and stretched, its long, razor-like claws digging into the blood red carpet. It walked over to the cage causing both Pokemon and human to flinch slightly as it raised its tail defensively, batting it furiously as Pikachu squeaked, lowering its yellow ears to obscure the Persian from view.

"Hmph, it doesn't seem too tough considering it's scared of a cat," the Boss remarked, immediately pulling off a pokeball from his belt loop. "How about I battle it to see how great of a shape it's really in? We can always heal it later."

"Uh… sure," Dr. Craig sighed reluctantly, following the Boss to the upper level of the Headquarters: The Pokemon Gym.

So, how did you like it all so far? Reviews would speed up the writing process.

Till the next chapter,

Tear22