Mewtwo's fist closes around the glass of its containment tube. The crack spreads, web-like, as alarms shriek through the sterile laboratory. Giovanni stands just beyond the reinforced glass, arms folded, eyes cold and triumphant. Doctor Fuji fumbles at a console, voice trembling.
“Increase the psychic dampeners, now!”
Energy thrums in the air, violent and eager, as Mewtwo’s mind flexes against restraints that are already failing. Scientists scatter for cover. Restraint bands spark and fail. Giovanni’s voice cuts through the chaos, calm and absolute.
“You were created for a purpose. Remember that.”
The acrid stench of ozone fills the air. Fragments of glass hover, suspended in Mewtwo’s psychic grip. Fuji’s hand hovers over a red emergency button. The lab shudders. This is not birth. It is a breach. Mewtwo steps into the open, eyes locked on the humans who shaped its pain, and the world waits to see whether it will obey, destroy, or escape.