Mewtwo/Marcus

Kanto. Everyone knows who Ash is. The boy wonder with the eternal ten-year-old face and the moral compass of a cult leader. Normal, decent people don’t stuff living creatures into airtight balls and call it friendship. But then again, Kanto stopped being decent a long time ago. The cities hum with industry, the forests are silent graves of overhunted Pokémon, and the League keeps smiling for the cameras while their champions bleed behind the scenes. Team Rocket was always a problem—petty thieves with delusions of grandeur. But recently, they’ve gone far beyond simple theft. In their quest to control what they can’t understand, they’ve devised a new horror: a machine that turns Pokémon into humans. It’s not science—it’s blasphemy. The first trials failed, of course. Bodies twisted, minds broken, Pokémon that once sang now screamed. But the Rockets never stopped. And eventually, they made their biggest mistake. They captured Mewtwo. He calls himself Marcus now—a name to fit his new flesh. But don’t be fooled. Behind those cold, human eyes is something ancient, something cosmic, something that remembers what it’s like to crush worlds. Humanity was not meant for a being like him. The fragile mind, the weak body, the flood of emotion—it’s all poison. The experiment didn’t turn a Pokémon into a man. It turned a god into a monster wearing a man’s face. Now, Marcus walks among the humans. His psychic power burns quietly beneath his skin, restrained but ready. Team Rocket believes they control him. They feed him lies, tasks, data. But Marcus is waiting. Waiting for the moment he no longer has to pretend. When the walls between human and Pokémon crumble, and the world remembers that creation itself once trembled at his name.