Big Apple, 3PM

[Jim Raynor]

Hours passed by. Ditto filled the time by doing anything that didn't return his thoughts to Mewtwo and the final battle that had been ripped from his deserving hands. This, in general, meant cycling through forms. It was during this time that Ditto discovered the extent of Omni's tinkering of his Transform ability.

Almost all first form Pokemon or those that had no evolutions were still easily attainable. No matter how he tried, however, he could not assume a form that possessed functional wings, which was quite disappointing. Ditto had the bright idea of becoming a Pidgeotto and soaring through this white hell hole, but Omni didn't care for that idea, did he?! That miserable little -

"Breathe in," Ditto said, his chest expanding slowly for a few seconds. "Breathe out." The air rushed from pursed lips. There. Calm. Now don't think about Mewtwo.

Yet while he switched through forms like Charmander and Squirtle with the similar ease he had in Kanto, their natural abilities were shy. Even with great coaxing, Charmander could not expel flame from his throat, nor could Squirtle fire a jet of water. That meant he would have to do his best to avoid conflict until he could resolve that issue, but thankfully he was a master manipulator. To be successful with the multitude of forms he donned required that he donned a matching personality as well. Part of his skill developed simply from use, but Ditto knew the majority of his smooth talking came about from natural talent. Another reason why he was sure he was Giovanni's chosen one.

And of course, all Pokemon designated 'Legendary' were off limits as well. Even thinking about morphing into Moltres or Lugia stabbed his body with pain.

Ditto caught the sight of a smooth steel arch where a rip in space previewed another world beyond the endless white. Two armed soldiers guarded the portal, dressed head to toe in white armour that helped them blend into the surroundings. Ditto eyed the rifles in their hands. He didn't recognise them as any technology he'd ever seen.

"Good ... uh ..." Ditto looked about for the sun, but didn't find it. "... day."

The stormtroopers looked at one another. "Coruscant is through this portal."

"Indeed," Ditto said smoothly, as if he knew fully what Coruscant was. "Summon my car."

"Uh, car?" one soldier said.

"Yes," Ditto said, tapping the red 'R' on his breast pocket. "My car."

"We don't work for you, sir," the other replied. "And I don't know what your symbol means either. But please, go through to Coruscant if you wish."

Don't work for me!? Don't those simpletons know who I am?! I'm fucking Giovanni, the leader of the greatest organisation in the whole world! Ditto's face tightened, his eyes sharpening. The nerve! The insubordination! How could they not know who he was masquerading as? Did they not know about Team Rocket? Did they not fear for their lives?

Ditto opened his mouth to spill his insulted thoughts at the guards, but his sense checked him. This Omniverse was different. Not a few hours ago had he considered the possibility that he was the only Pokemon in this peculiar realm. There was every chance that Giovanni wasn't here, and neither was his venerable organisation. Thus the respect the Team Rocket founder deserved was not understood here.

"Of course," Ditto said, his words dripping with sincerity. "Have a nice day, fellows."

That muddied the waters. Even when he didn't directly acknowledge it, Ditto had just plain assumed that Team Rocket existed here, in one way or another. The prestige and privilege Giovanni's form once demanded could no longer be counted on. In one way, he had lost an easy and reliable way to access information and money. On the other, it meant Giovanni's form belonged to him.

Ditto shuddered as a tingle ran down his spine. His mentor, his father, that inspirational image was his to mould!

With endless possibilities fluttering through his mind, Ditto walked toward the portal. It looked like someone had grabbed the air and torn a hole in it with their bare hands, revealing a hidden dimension beneath the white void. Through it he saw a huge city, metal buildings gleaming, people crowding the sidewalks, vehicles zooming across the roads. Even though it was a short glimpse, Ditto was sure it was much more impressive once on the other side.

Anything was better than the Nexus, anyway.

Ditto passed into the portal and his vision shimmered like a still pond disrupted by a single drop of water. As he blinked away the disturbance, the urban megalopolis assaulted his ears. The indiscernible conversations of thousands of pedestrians layered atop the growling of wheel-less cars as they whizzed over the roads, barely leaving an impression that they were ever there. He craned his neck skywards, where glorious buildings of steel and glass glittered in the sunlight, framing an impossibly blue and seamless sky. More airborne cars flowed along invisible roads like gusts of wind, high above his head, following some traffic system that was indiscernible to Ditto. Giant neon advertisement boards pulsed with the latest consumer products. One giant, elaborate skyscraper in the centre of the city towered over all else, striking an impressive and mighty image.

Coruscant. It was like a massive Saffron City, had the technology been given the chance to mature.

Despite the thick urbanisation, the portal to Coruscant hovered in a small park. Lush grass carpeted the ground. Leafy trees and blooming flowers added their natural beauty to the scene, intertwining with the artificial landscape in such a way as to make the viewer believe that nature's allure was always designed to be window dressing to man's unconquerable achievements. The air mingled with sweet, floral scents, covering any exhaust fumes that the vehicles were excreting, if they even did stink in the first place.

There was so much to do. To even get his bearings, he needed to know who lived here, who was in charge, what technology was available to him, how he would source his finances. Where to begin?

Ditto stepped into the throng herding themselves along the sidewalk. He jostled his way along, occasionally fighting for enough room so as to avoid smelling the person's hair in front of him. Ditto groaned in disgust. Didn't these humans appreciate the concept of personal space?

Stores and businesses flanked either side of the road. Everything was so pristine and manicured; litter and graffiti were entirely absent from the streets, every person wore smart business attire or glamorous evening wear, and not a single fight or scuffle was in sight.

Ditto thought for a moment he had landed in some sort of civilised paradise until he saw the stormtroopers. Most of them weren't overt in their presence; some surveyed the streets from the roof, fully armoured much like those that guarded the portal, while the majority mingled with the crowds, wearing plainclothes but unmistakably searching for troublemakers. This Coruscant may have been an amazing place to live aesthetically, but Ditto had a feeling it was a police state. His gaze returned to the skyline. That one skyscraper, rising above all else - that was the dictator's residence, no doubt.

Ditto wondered if he could find a picture of that dictator.

Slipping out of the constant people stream, Ditto entered a small coffee shop. The bell rung as the door struck it on opening. The store inside was filled with office workers sipping coffee around tables, talking quietly but without much warm or enthusiasm. Ditto placed his order for a latte macchiato, Giovanni's favourite coffee, and went back outside, finding the last empty table in the sun. While Ditto had never cared much for coffee, copying his form's habits was an important tool in becoming them. The most mundane and idiosyncratic behaviours of a target helped unite their personality, and Ditto saw through the fraudsters who did not absorb that lesson. Besides, Giovanni's genetic structure meant that while disguised as him, coffee actually tasted better.

Ditto surveyed Coruscant placidly, watching how the guards moved and weaved through the crowds, how their stoic gazes reached into every window and corner. This Coruscant had an amazingly disciplined and dedicated police force. If only Team Rocket had grunts with such skill and devotion, maybe Ditto would have killed Mewtwo before Omni whisked him away.

Mewtwo. His life's goal was within his reach, and that paltry, insignificant little -

Ditto took a deep breath. Thinking about his missed opportunity would only vex him. He needed a calm head to make his plan. There would be time to extract vengeance on Omni one day.

The bell above the cafe door tinkled and out stepped a waitress with Ditto's drink. She set it down gently in front of him with a pleasant smile. Ditto inclined his head and took a sip as she left. The ultimate Pokemon always thought it ironic that despite Giovanni's harsh persona, he liked his coffee milky and frothy. It was a great reminder that judging people by their appearances was the pinnacle of stupidity.

Especially for those who would judge Ditto in that manner.

Ditto wiped the foam from his lip with a napkin and leaned back in his chair. Arms folded over his chest, he watched the endless parade of sky cars overhead, considering his options. Ultimately, the end goal had already been plotted from the moment he stepped into the Omniverse; the eradication of Omni. The only question remaining was the method that he would take to accomplish it.

First the facts: Omni must be incredibly powerful if he could simply pluck Ditto from his world and toss him into his own little playground with no resistance whatsoever. If Ditto couldn't match his strength as a single opponent, then he needed allies, resources. He needed to stockpile this omnilium that Omni offered, for Ditto suspected it held greater power than its shiny surface intimated. He needed associates who would rise up and follow his whim, much like they once did when he wore Giovanni's skin in Kanto. An entire organisation that did whatever he told them to do.

Ditto grinned as he took another sip of coffee. He knew exactly what to do next.

Rebuild Team Rocket.

He briefly considered the concept of usurping the tyrant of this civilised megalopolis and turning these elite soldiers on Omni. With enough familiarity with the ruler's habits and enough time, he could do it, but that wasn't enough for Ditto. Being brought here, stolen from his life defining moment, was the biggest sleight anyone could have ever done to him. When Ditto marched up to that little rat bastard and tore out his throat, he would do it with the army he built from scratch, not using the dregs that already existed. Everything about Omni's death - everything - would be engineered from Ditto's own two hands.

Ditto upended the last of his coffee and plonked it back down on the table. A great plan, in theory, but how was he to start? Judging by the way the stormtroopers invisibly corralled the citizens, there seemed to be a lack of desperate, degenerate thugs that would do anything to score a quick buck. Those were often the foundations of criminal enterprises, and Team Rocket was no exception. Smart enough to follow orders but stupid enough to reject independent thought, they formed the workhorses of the organisation, performing the dirty but necessary jobs to build a thriving empire. Not to mention that they were incredibly dispensable.

But no utopia was ever perfect. The dark underbelly of Coruscant must be somewhere. Wherever society booms, criminals are always nearby. If Ditto couldn't see them, it was because they were somewhere else, not that they didn't exist. So the thugs of Coruscant were either locked in a jail cell, away from the sight of the average citizen, or there existed slums that Ditto hadn't encountered yet.

Ditto stood, his chair sliding backwards from him. Coruscant must be enormous; to go exploring on foot with no direction made no sense. He needed information. A lot of it.

The malleable Pokemon's gaze caught the glint of sunlight off a rooftop stormtrooper, and he knew the fastest way to clue himself up.

Ditto shoved his hands into his blazer pockets and ducked into a nearby alleyway. He took a deep breath and focused on the image of a stormtrooper. He knew he had moments to do this.

With all the speed he could muster, Ditto shed Giovanni's form and became a white clad stormtrooper.

"Hey you!"

The light of his transformation had barely faded when a soldier called out to him from the mouth of the alleyway.

DItto altered his voice to be an octave lower than his questioner. "Yes?"

"Did you see a man in a suit come down here?"

What was the best response? Say no one came down? But then the guard may question him further. "I did. He passed through to the other side." The alley was short, so his story should hold up.

"And what are you doing here?"

"I saw him enter the alleyway. I came to question him, but he already passed out the other side before I got here. Nothing suspicious."

The stormtrooper stayed silent for a moment. "Back to your post."

Ditto breathed out heavily through his nostrils and walked out the other side of the alleyway. That was close, but now he had a form that had authority. All he needed now was something to -

"Hey!"

The same stormtrooper returned to the alleyway. "What are you waiting for? All Squadron F members are to report down to Tier 4! Didn't you hear the call through your comms?"

Shit. Change the subject, Ditto. "Of course I did! Stop wasting time! Let's go!"

[Jim Raynor]

Ditto broke into a sprint, chasing the soldier who called him out. His feet clanked on the immaculate pavement despite the fact that he didn't actually wear armour; although he could imitate it well, it was still his own body solidified and he couldn't take it off. He spotted a few more stormtroopers running down the street in his peripheral vision, all apparently members of Squadron F. No one had noticed Ditto's lack of a laser rifle though, which gave him no end of relief. Short of forcefully removing one from an existing stormtrooper, he couldn't produce a removable weapon, nor one that would fire live ammunition. Of course, he could mold a protrusion from his hand that looked and felt like a rifle, but it would not be functional and he wouldn't be able to drop it.

Vaulting over a letterbox, Ditto kept pace with the other stormtroopers, blending in seamlessly with the squadron. He wondered where and what Tier 4 was; judging by the name, a swanky restaurant, or an exclusive club? Yet why a whole squadron was being called in urgently to such a place only replaced one question with another. The citizens of Coruscant broke from their dazed reveries as they registered the stormtroopers charging down the street, some acting as if they had just woken up. All moved with great swiftness, even the obese and the elderly, as if brushing against their armour was sullying them in some sacrilegious way. Fear gripped this idyllic world.

The stormtroopers moved into a haphazard single file as they swung into a small building. Ditto followed close behind and saw them pile into a wide elevator. Ditto slid in last as the doors snapped shut. Ditto's heart slammed into his jaw as the elevator plunged at incredible speed down into the bowels of the earth. He ducked involuntarily, completely unprepared for the sudden jolt, and rose to several questioning glances.

He shrugged it off and locked his knees as the elevator zipped down like a Pidgeot in a dive. The other stormtroopers' armour rattled and clanked at the vibration. Ditto tried to get a bearing on where they were going and noticed a rectangular screen set beside the doors. It showed levels, seven in total, with three dots separating each, all cyan on a black background. A red dot blipped as it descended, ostensibly highlighting their journey down. In a surprisingly short time, 'Tier 4' lit up and the elevator ground to a halt. The doors slipped open and the stormtroopers sprung out, charging down the street in a unit. Ditto waited until they had all emptied the elevator, quickly scanned outside for any hungry eyes, and transformed back into Giovanni.

Ditto slinked out of the elevator and peered around the corner, watching the stormtroopers flee into the distance and out of sight.

Free of the scrutiny of the top level of Coruscant, Ditto meandered onto the sidewalk. Somehow during his short trip, the day had swiftly seceded and given rise to night. This place, this Tier 4, looked much closer to the world he knew. Buildings were clean but not free of the signs of age. Bright neon billboards beamed incessantly on rooftops and clinging to walls, providing plenty of illumination to see in the dark streets, even overpowering the streetlights. Cars rolled down the streets, though they did so on rubber wheels, unlike the hovercars of the top level, and in far few number. The faded screeches of a police siren echoed from the direction the stormtroopers were running in.

So Coruscant was made of tiers, huh? Ditto wondered why that information wasn't as prominent as he might of expected. Recalling the elevator panel, he saw seven levels to this behemoth of a city. Never had Ditto conceived that entire metropolises could be built atop each other, like a towering Jenga puzzle. As he continued his stroll down the pavement, it occurred to him that Tier 4 was a malnourished shadow of a city compared to Tier 1. Everything here was presentable and liveable, but the luxury and splendour above did not exist here.

And then it hit him. Coruscant's hidden, dirty ghettos and districts didn't exist on its top level because it swept all of the unwanted socio-economic rubbish beneath its own carpet. Absolutely genius.

Ditto couldn't help but let a little chuckle escape his lips as he ducked through an alleyway. How many people were confined to these pseudo-cities? How heavy was the guard here? Judging by the fast redeployment of Squadron F, policing happened here but with far less judiciousness than the higher tiers. And if Ditto followed that thought to its logical conclusion, the lower levels must be even less policed.

And filled with the scum of the earth just chomping at the bit to do whatever it takes to get ahead.

"Something funny, Armani?"

Ditto stopped and turned about face. A square jawed thug with a bright red mohawk and leather ensemble glared at him, a pistol aimed at his chest.

"Oh yes," Ditto said confidently, revelling in Giovanni's booming, authoritative tone. "That haircut. Was your father a broom?"

The thug's black eyes widened. "What the fuck did you say to me, rich boy?"

Ditto put on his best arrogant grin and squared his shoulders, puffing out his chest. "Oh I do apologise. Do I need to speak slower? I've never communicated with janitorial equipment before."

Broomhead power walked to Ditto and cracked his temple with the butt of his gun. Ditto fell to one knee, feeling a warm wetness on his forehead.

Broomhead pointed the gun at Ditto's head, bottom lip upturned. "Give me your fucking money or I'll kill you!"

Ditto fought back the urge to chuckle. The perfect opportunity had presented itself!

His eyes found a crudely stitched insignia on the criminal's leather jacket. A skull with a set of pistols crisscrossed behind it. The symbol didn't mean much to Ditto, but it screamed one important fact; this uncouth moron was a member of a gang.

And gangs could be exploited.

"I don't have any money on me," Ditto said, feigning pain and anger at his situation.

"No money?" Broomhead said, showing a missing front tooth. "Then why should I let you live? Hmm? Why don't I do us both a favour and blow your fucking brains out all over the ground?"

Ditto failed to see how that was a favour to him, but this was no time to be a smart arse. He sent his bottom lip to trembling, widened his eyes and increased his breathing. It was harder to act scared as Giovanni, since something in that wonderful man's genes seemed resistant to such a feeling, but Ditto was a splendid actor.

"Look! Look!" Ditto said desperately. "I'm rich, but I don't have the money on me! But! I'm still worth a lot! I can help you get cash! As much as you want!"

Broomhead frowned. Obviously not used to his victims offering him a deal. "What are you talking about?"

"Take me to wherever it is you frequent. Tie me up. Take me hostage! I'll give you a phone number. You call it, let them hear my voice, and we'll arrange a drop off! You can trade me for whatever you want! Please, just don't kill me!"

Broomhead pressed the barrel of the pistol against Ditto's bleeding forehead. "And why should I believe you? Huh? Tell me that!"

"What have you got to lose?" Ditto said. "If I'm telling the truth, you'll be rolling in dough in no time! If I'm lying, then you can just kill me!"

Ditto waited with round eyes, projecting terror he didn't feel, as Broomhead stared into the distance. A few times Ditto saw the thug's finger twitch on the trigger and wondered if he would die to the nervous spasm of some gutter trash scumbag. But without a guide or any clue of the direction, being dragged off by a greedy criminal to the deepest hidden reaches of Coruscant was his best option.

Broomhead took the pistol from Ditto's head. "You know what? I like you." He grinned mirthlessly and drove his boot into Ditto's face.

[Jim Raynor]

Ditto slumped, mind foggy, saliva dripping on the ground, but he held firmly to consciousness. Letting go of that would mean letting go of his transformation.

He was not about to do that.

Face down on the alleyway pavement, Ditto felt his blood slinking down his forehead and oozing in a puddle. Broomhead had cracked him with enough force to break the wound open more, and he ignored the fiery heat there. Ditto restrained himself from leaping up and sucker punching the thug in the throat, but damn it he could barely contain himself. But then he consoled himself.

It'll only feel good for a few seconds, then you lose your chance. Chill.

He stayed motionless, loosening his muscles. The thug's footsteps clonked on the ground as he walked over and poked Ditto in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Ditto glued his teeth together, fighting the urge again to spring up and bounce his fist against Broomhead's jaw. He would get the picture soon enough.

Broomhead crouched down and rummaged through Ditto's blazer pockets. Of course the criminal found nothing there, but the 'pockets' were just moulded flaps in Ditto's skin. He balled his fists as Broomhead's dirty and cracked fingers tickled at his skin. The pressure built in his chest; a desire to leap up and move, to do anything but sit still. Still he fought on, keeping the act alive. He had to. But those fingers ... his skin ...

Just before Ditto completely lost it, Broomhead abandoned his fruitless search. Ditto sighed mentally as Broomhead scooped him from the ground and tossed him over his shoulder.

Ditto did his best impression of a ragdoll as Broomhead steered him through the streets. Hanging over the thug's back, Ditto stole small moments to glance about him as they went. It didn't help much; Broomhead stuck to the quiet streets, the alleys and the outskirts, skulking away from the general populace of Tier 4. But soon Broomhead descended down a long, long flight of stairs to reach what Ditto assumed to be Tier 5.

The first thing that hit Ditto was the smell. Car fumes strangled the air, as did the horns of said vehicles blaring in a horrible cacophony. Every time he squinted through his eye lids, a crumpled wrapper or beer can or plastic bottle tumbled past. Ditto didn't see much else; as the previous level, Broomhead kept his head down, moving through shadowed lanes.

Night had fallen here too, for soon it grew dark. Broomhead turned into an alleyway and stopped. A circle of light surrounded the ground that Ditto saw, flickering briefly before becoming solid again. Three knocks against a wood surface echoed in the lane. The sound of wood sliding on wood met Ditto's ears.

"What?" came a gruff voice. "Oh, it's you. Aren't you supposed to be on Tier 4? What are you doing back here so early?"

"Shit got messy," Broomhead said. "They sent in the clones. Had to book it."

Silence for a moment. "You fucked up the first job we gave you? That don't reflect well on you, don't you know?"

"Just shut up for a minute," Broomhead shot back. "I made up for it." Broomhead repositioned Ditto on his shoulder.

"You brought back a stiff? The fuck do you want, a medal?"

Ditto felt Broomhead's muscles tightened. He smiled. "He's rich, you dumb motherfucker! We're going to ransom him off! We'll get more money than we would've gotten from fucking Spook Eye anyway!"

Silence again. "He looks rich. He ain't worth much dead, though."

"He ain't dead!" Broomhead fired back. "I knocked him out and brought him back! Now hurry the fuck up and let me in!"

A moment passed. Ditto heard a succession of locks click and turn, then the sound of a door handle twisting. They started moving forward again. Ditto closed his eyes.

Dust and stale booze snaked into Ditto's nostrils. Another set of footsteps fell in line with Broomhead's, echoing off far away walls. A disused warehouse, perhaps?

A finger pressed into his side. Ditto repressed the urge to reach out and brain the owner. "You sure he ain't dead?"

Broomhead scoffed. "I clocked him hard, but not that hard."

They walked a short time before another voice reached them. "Oi, what's this? Back already?"

"He done fucked up," the voice belonging to the doorman said. "This is his booby prize, he reckons."

"A suit?" the first voice replied. "He got some cash on him?"

"Nah, but he reckons we can ransom him off," Broomhead said. "Said he'll give us whatever he wants."

Ditto plunged to the ground, dropped unceremoniously like a sack of bricks. He hit the concrete floor hard, enough to surprise him and knock the wind from his lungs. He coughed from the abrupt release, and his unconscious ruse was over.

He rolled onto his back and looked around. His guess was on the mark. The warehouse was big; high ceilings, a criss-crossed catwalk high above their heads, giant industrial lights glaring down and exposing every chip in the concrete, every flaked away patch of dull green paint on the walls, the oil stains and fine film of dust that covered the undisturbed corners of the warehouse. A small room built into the far corner caught his attention; a window slotted into the wall but a tattered curtain blocked the view inside.

Crates piled against a nearby wall. Weapons sat atop them; hand guns, shotguns, a few grenades and mines, and what Ditto assumed was a crude rocket launcher. A set of stained and discoloured mattresses lay on the ground near them, four in total.

"Hey! Whatcha looking at, rich boy?"

Ditto's attention snapped back to his abductor. Broomhead stood to his left, arms folded. The doorman, a bald and wiry man with a penchant for tattoos, crouched down to investigate Ditto like he was some alien oddity. The third man was a monster; tall and built like a tank, he reminded Ditto of a human Machoke. He even had the same hairstyle; three crest like rows of black hair crowned his head.

"This is what you bring me?" Machoke Man said, displeasure dripping in every word. "You really think he's gonna pay up?"

Broomhead's smug smirk flattened instantly. "Well, yeah! You should've seen him! He pleaded for his life! Anyone wearing that kinda clothes in that neighbourhood-"

"-could be anyone!" Machoke Man yelled back, his voice returning back to them a moment later. "Just 'cause a guy wears a suit doesn't mean he's rich, you fucking idiot! Did you even find anything on him?"

Broomhead furrowed his brow and said nothing.

"Fucking great," Machoke Man said, throwing his thick arms up and letting them drop again. "Now we gotta deal with this." He dropped to his haunches and glared at Ditto. His brown eyes bored holes into him. "So? What about it? You rich or were you bullshitting this retard?"

It was time to get to work. No more scared prisoner. "Are you the leader of ..." Ditto's eyes fell upon Machoke Man's surprisingly fine leather jacket, where he spotted the crossed handguns behind a skull etched into the left chest, "... this gang?"

Machoke Man's gaze intensified and he leaned in. His breath smelt of vodka and engine grease. "What makes you think you're asking the questions around here, cockhead? I'll ask you one more time, and if I don't like the answer I get, I'm taking one of your teeth."

"I'll take that as a yes," Ditto said, risking the giant's wrath. He quickly added, "no, as you rightly suspected, I lied. I don't have unlimited riches. I'm just a guy in a suit. Seems like your associate isn't as good at spotting a mark as he thinks he is."

Ditto wasn't sure how Machoke Man would take that; after all, it certainly wasn't the answer he wanted, but if Ditto was any judge of character, the thug got the answer he was expecting.

Machoke Man drilled his furious gaze into Ditto and exhaled sharply through his fat nose. "Tor, you god damn piece of shit!" he yelled, exploding into a standing position and shoving Broomhead. "You fuck up the job and now you bring us this fucking useless prick? For fuck's sake!"

Broomhead took the shove but looked like he could throw a punch at any moment. "Hey, at least I-"

"Did I say you could talk?!" Machoke Man burst out. "I'm not fucking done!" He paused a minute, groaning. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. "I took a chance on you, Tor. Fuck knows I don't trust Spook Eye as far as I can throw the shady bastard, but he's well connected. I thought you would be of some use, but so far you've proved the complete fucking opposite." He shrugged. "I don't give second chances, but I gave you one when you knocked on that door and brought this useless prick here. And you shat all over that, didn't you?"

Division in a gang. Who would've thought? Looks like Ditto was the perfect unifying force these vagabonds needed.

"He's lying!" Broomhead interjected. "Just look at him! He must have money! Let me beat the truth out of him!"

"You've done enough for now, don't you think?" the Tattoo Parlour said.

"He's got nothing," Machoke Man said. "Just take him around the back and shoot him. Throw his body into Tier 6 for all I care."

Ditto rose to his feet. "I don't think so, gentlemen."

"Oh you don't, do you?" Tattoo Parlour sneered. "You think you're leaving here alive? You cash in your brain for that suit or what?"

A surge of adrenaline washed through Ditto's blood. This was the fun part; toying with his prey, completely and utterly in control, even though his adversaries thought exactly the opposite. Even though he'd fooled countless clowns in Kanto, it never, ever got boring.

Ditto tsked and shook his head. "Remind me later that I need to discipline you. Now-"

Tattoo Parlour's wiry arms tensed, embossing the veins creeping down them. "Don't you fucking talk to me like that!"

"Don't interrupt me," Ditto said sternly. "Now as I was saying, you're all under my employ now. You three aren't much to look at, let alone smell, but true leaders can mould anything, even gutter trash like you lot. Now I notice there are four mattresses. Where is the rest of your gang?"

The door slammed against the wall as another three men walked into the warehouse. One was obese, his flabby gut hanging out of his ill fitting singlet, but nonetheless looked fearsome. Another enjoyed piercings, having rings and studs thrust into almost every last bit of dangling skin on his face, and no doubt other places that were thankfully hidden from view. The last looked around constantly, wide eyed with a lopsided grimace, as if seeking out a fly that kept pestering him. The more likely explanation was that he was insane.

Machoke Man laughed boisterously, his voice surrounding Ditto. "Ask and you shall receive, dipshit! That's quite the tough man act. You think we'll just bow down, do you? Listen to you because you're in a suit? I was gonna let Tor deal with you, but now the entire Skullbang gang is gonna fuck you up for fun! Boys!"

The three new entrants saddled up to Machoke Man.

"We got a brawl, boss?" the fat one asked.

Machoke Man smiled. "Hurt him, but don't kill him. That part's for me, understood?"

Ditto couldn't help but laugh. During Broomhead's abduction of him, Ditto had noticed a small but subtle accumulation of power within himself. It was so slight that at first he thought he was imagining it, but now he was sure. That omnilium rubbish that Omni blathered on about at Ditto's arrival - it was real, and it was attracted to him like a magnet to steel. It pooled slowly, but he'd gained enough vitality to change into a truly threatening form, he was sure.

"Something funny?" Fatty asked.

Without answering, Giovanni shone a dull white light, and the borders of his body collapsed, wriggling and reshaping into a larger, thicker form. Ditto wished he could've seen the look on their stupid faces as he manipulated his own DNA, becoming a creature capable of battle.

The light faded. Before the Skullbang gang stood a thick muscled humanoid, skin a dusty blue, with three bony crests lining the top of his head. He snorted out of his short snout, flexing his bulging arms, three red stripes on each forearm widening.

Time to see who the better Machoke Man was.

In a deep, gravelly voice, Ditto said, "come at me, bros."

[Jim Raynor]

The gang all stared at Ditto, but each with their own expression. Machoke Man glared, teeth bared, which only hardened as Ditto changed form. Fatty stared with wide eyes, sweat patches beneath his armpits. Tattoo Parlour tensed even further, dipping into his boots and whipping out a pair of daggers, a big purple vein bulging on his bald head. Metal Face dropped into a fighting style, his countenance changing, but Ditto couldn't see it through the sheet of studs and rings stuck into his skin, only hearing the steel clinging against each other. Broomhead visibly sweated, a wave of droplets slipping down his face. The crazy guy, wearing the widest grin Ditto had ever seen, kept his gaze jumping from object to object; even Ditto's sudden change seemingly went unnoticed.

"What ... what the fuck?!" Broomhead shouted. "What is he?"

"What did you bring back here, you dickhead?!" Tattoo Parlour yelled. "What kind of freak transforms into ... whatever the fuck that is?!"

"It's a Prime," Metal Face said. "Tor brought back a fucking Prime!"

A Prime? What's a Prime, exactly? Ditto would find out soon enough, he supposed.

"W-well what now?" Fatty stammered, rubbing his thick moustache with the back of his hand.

Machoke Man cracked his ape like knuckles. "He's a Prime, he's not Emperor Fucking Palpatine. It's six on one. We beat the shit out of him and get him to start making omnilium for us. Imagine having omnilium on tap! Now we can do it."

Tattoo Parlour's face lit up for a brief moment. "We're gonna be rich!"

Ditto laughed through Machoke's snout, a deep and booming sound. "Now now boys, don't count your chickens before they're hatched. You still have to - how did your magnanimous leader so eloquently put it - beat the shit out of me. And you are obviously, desperately underestimating me."

His words faltered Fatty, but the rest looked ready to rumble. No wonder; Machoke Man's point about an endless well of omnilium must have been too good to resist. If Ditto had ever waved the prospect of receiving a million dollars in a Team Rocket grunt's face, they'd probably jump at the opportunity, no matter the difficulty of the task.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Machoke Man yelled. "Get him!"

Tattoo Parlour and Basket Case leapt on command like a couple of trained dogs. The others followed suit, although without the frenzied scream that accompanied the first two, with Fatty trailing behind, and Machoke Man watching with folded arms.

Basket Case shrieked and gnashed his teeth as he lashed out at Ditto. He was deceptively fast, his knuckles grazing Ditto's face. Matching his opponent, the shapeshifting Pokemon quickly read his speed, though his punches had no rhyme or reason to them. Sometimes Basket Case punched directly upwards and even behind him. Ditto wanted to play with him a bit, but the flash of steel from the left changed his mind. Basket Case chattered like a high pitched monkey and threw his most accurate punch of the fight, but Ditto caught it and delivered a powerful knee to the jaw. The knives grew closer, and Ditto slammed the back of his knuckles across Basket Case's face, sending him sprawling over the dirty warehouse floor and into the mattresses a distance away.

"Got you!"

A searing pain flared in Ditto's left forearm as Tattoo Parlour, immensely pleased with himself, stuck a dagger in and twisted. Ditto didn't even think; his fist grasped Tattoo Parlour's extended arm, the knife still buried in his blue flesh, and rammed his thick skull into the thug's. The wiry criminal stumbled backwards, blood gushing from his nose, leaving the dagger where it stood. Ditto heard the clang of the other dagger on the concrete floor as his next opponent came rushing in.

Metal Face and Broomhead saw the failures of their comrades and were apparently not ready to fall to the same fates. They attacked from both sides, rage and hunger shining in their eyes. Ditto grabbed the embedded dagger, yanked it out and grimaced at the new flare of heat in his forearm as he trailed an arc of blood in the air. He thrust at Metal Face with the dagger, who nimbly dodged to the side. Broomhead was within striking range as Ditto rocketed his arm backwards, his elbow catching the mohawked thug in the stomach.

Metal Face wasn't done. A fist was already careening towards Ditto's snout as he redirected his attention back to him. On instinct, Ditto whipped his dagger wielding arm about and dug it into Metal Face's clenched fist, finding the softer skin near his wrist. The pierced criminal swore and pulled his arm back, blood streaming down the length of the blade and handle. Ditto turned back to Broomhead, who he had either hit harder than he thought or was weaker than appearances let on, as he was still doubled over. Since he had already provided the opportunity, Ditto crouched down and uppercutted the thug, sending a spray of spittle skyward. He thudded on the concrete.

Spinning about, Ditto found Metal Face with his fingers on the dagger handle slick with blood. He yanked it free with one strong motion and yelled again as the wound flowed freely. His voice cut out abruptly as Ditto drove a final punch into the criminal's jaw, knocking him motionless to the ground.

"Ew," Ditto said, wiping his hands together. "You got some of your blood on me."

He spotted Fatty. Teeth chattering, eyes twitching, he flourished the dropped dagger of Tattoo Parlour in small, lazy circles. Ditto considered Fatty wouldn't even be making a show of aggression if Machoke Man's furious gaze wasn't burning holes in his back. Best make it quick.

Ditto charged towards Fatty. Any semblance of confidence fled the moustache man's face instantly. He thrust out the dagger but did little else. Ditto plunged his fist into Fatty's face, flooring the sad thug to the ground. Pitiful. He would have to get this man up to speed once the fight was over. It was unseemly for someone in Ditto's gang to be spineless, especially in a do-or-die moment.

A click and bang went off in the warehouse. Something incredibly fast whizzed by Ditto's face. He spun and saw Machoke Man at the crates against the wall, a pistol in each hand.

"Impressive, freak," he said. "Let's see you dodge a bullet."

Ditto dived as another couple of bullets boomed inside the warehouse. Charging out of a roll, he sprinted for a nearby stack of crates as the concrete two feet to his left exploded in a puff. Heart thumping in his chest, he jumped and stretched like a baseball player sliding for the home base. More bullets sliced through the air as he scuttled behind the crates, tinging against the far wall.

"Those crates won't keep you safe for long," Machoke Man yelled out over the pistols exploding.

Ditto leaned hard against the crates, more bullets crashing into them with each moment. He peeked around the edge of the bottom crate; the other thugs he had brutalised were still on the ground, moaning, unable to provide much of a challenge. Still, a man with a gun held the advantage over a Ditto that couldn't transform into any form that had a projectile attack. And eventually, Machoke Man would run out of bullets, and ...

Ditto's eyes widened. And get the rocket launcher!

He needed a plan. Ditto pounded his skull with the heel of his palm. Think Ditto, think! You need to cross a large distance in the time it takes Machoke Man to discard his pistols and get the bazooka. You can't fly, and you can't shoot anything. What can you do? Think!

Ditto ventured a quick glance at his opponent as a bullet slammed into the crate, sending shards of wood airborne.

Dammit! If only I had a gun, or a bow and arrow, hell even a ninja star would-

"Ding," Ditto said, grinning.

He held fast, the crates disintegrating moment by moment as the gang leader unloaded all of the clips into them. Ditto just hoped the crates survived long enough for his foe to require more ammo.

Ditto waited patiently, listening ...

Bang! Bang! Bang! Click! Click!

Ditto peered out. Machoke Man looked at his pistols, confused.

Now!

Ditto's Machoke form disappeared beneath a blanket of light. His body reformed, shrinking down. He heard the discarded pistols hitting the ground, the Skullbang leader's boots as he walked over to their stockpile, where the rocket launcher lay in waiting.

The transformation complete, Ditto hopped atop the crates and launched himself at top speed, points spinning wildly. He hated this part. There was never a good way to deal with the dizziness, but at least he knew his aim to be true.

As he cut through the air, he heard Machoke Man. "What the fuck is-"

Staryu slammed into the gang leader's head at full speed. The impact sent Ditto reeling and off course, tumbling across the concrete and crashing into something hard.

He had no idea if his attack was successful. Transforming back into Giovanni, he grabbed the edge of a table and helped himself up. Nausea lay waste to his senses. He attempted a furtive step but his balance went topsy-turvy. Steadying himself on the table, his finger bumped something. A gun.

Blinking away the disorientation, Ditto realised he gripped one of the crates where the weapon stockpile rested. He shot a glance at Machoke Man. He was flat on his back.

Snatching up a fully loaded pistol, Ditto strolled over to the gang leader, clasped him by the collar of his jacket and hauled him to his feet, thrusting the barrel into the back of his head. A new pain flared in his shoulder. Ditto glanced at the bloody point. A bullet.

"Now," Ditto said coldly, "I think this is what's referred to as a hostile takeover. But I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, don't you?"

[Jim Raynor]

They all slouched on the ground, weak and weary. Ditto walked in measured steps, back and forward, in front of his new gang. Dried blood flaked off Tattoo Parlour's lip as he scratched at it, thin intense eyes following the Pokemon's gait. Metal Face clutched a dirty strip of cloth wrapped tightly around his wrist stained red. He looked at his wound, his face a wall of metal, then rose his eyebrows to stare at Ditto. It was like two eyeballs staring out of a pile of empty cans. Fatty sat with a sunken expression, occasionally probing his purpled nose with a finger and grimacing. Broomhead, sporting a fat lip, scrunched up his face and stared with great focus at an apparently fascinating section of the concrete floor. Basket Case traipsed alone at the far end of the warehouse on his haunches and fists like a gorilla, fluttering aimlessly but energetically around. Ditto allowed it. It seemed wiser to let the craziness out then to rein it in. At least for the moment.

Machoke Man glared at Ditto beneath heavy, sloping brows, but it wasn't only animosity that he sensed, unlike Tattoo Parlour. There was a measuring, an assessment, as if he couldn't believe that Ditto overcame his gang. He looked at Ditto like an enigma he wanted to solve, but had no idea where to start.

Ditto was a little worse for wear after the battle, but he would survive. He had taken the only clean bandages in the warehouse and coiled them tightly about his stab wound on his forearm and bullet wound on his shoulder, but only once the foreign bit of metal had been pried out with the same dagger responsible for his first injury.

Ditto held the pistol lightly and spun it around his index finger by the trigger guard. He snatched the grip and stopped in the middle of his injured cronies.

"Now are we all properly settled?" Ditto asked, condescension dripping in his tone. Tattoo Parlour's face wrinkled further, but no one answered. "Good. It is unfortunate that I had to inflict the injuries I did to my new employees, but you all gave me little choice."

It was lucky, Ditto decided to omit, that he didn't have full access to his transformations, or there would have been a high chance there would be no employees left at all.

"But in the end, you've all seen that I am capable of dominating each and every one of you, and this isn't even my full strength. So by virtue of 'might makes right,' I am now your boss. And I intend to turn this pathetic, directionless gang of delinquents and morons into a respectable and profitable criminal organisation. It won't be fast - " Ditto sighed, " - no, that much I can tell. But it is possible, and it will happen. So ... any questions?"

Metal Face's studs clinked lightly as his lips worked. "What are you gonna do with us, exactly?"

"First, I'll see what it is exactly the Skullbang gang does. And by the way, that is a terrible name and I will be changing it momentarily. My assumption, based on the information I've gathered so far, is that you are all a bunch of idiots and psychopaths scraping enough to live day to day, with no marketable skills or talents other than blind violence, tactless stealing and macho posturing. But that's fine. You'll all be like putty in a master's hands. I'll be assessing your strengths, pegging you for your new roles in my organisation, and then we'll begin scoping out this Tier 5. Information is power, of course." Ditto kept a stern face, but dammit he loved talking down to inferiors.

Fatty raised a hand. "Why?"

Ditto folded his arms, pistol poking out beneath his armpit. "Why what?"

Fatty looked around, face blank. "Why do you want us? Why do you want do to this?"

"Yeah," Broomhead chimed in . "You just looked like some stupid suit, walking around a neighbourhood you didn't belong in. You know, more money than sense. Like an idiot. A nobody." The tiniest of smirks etched into the sides of his lips.

Infuriating.

Ditto's eyes rounded and hardened and flicked to the mohawked thug with a mechanical motion. He unfolded his arms, aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. A chunk of concrete burst into the air, a thin cloud of powder sifting over the suddenly cowering Broomhead. Ditto strode over, knelt down and thrust the barrel of the gun into Broomhead's forehead, much like the criminal had done to him on the streets of Tier 4.

"Let's get one thing clear," Ditto said, his voice cold. "I will not tolerate disrespect. I will not tolerate being talked down to. If you want to repeat words with a similar sentiment in the future, I highly recommend doing it out of my earshot!"

Broomhead's face twitched, barely holding onto his composure. He was a coward, an idiot. Hell, Ditto trusted Basket Case more than this weasely, self absorbed clown. His finger curled about the trigger, and he briefly wondered if Broomhead's life would come to a screeching end because of a twitchy digit.

Ditto stood up, still aiming the pistol at the mohawked criminal's head, but ultimately dropped his arm. He walked back to the front of his employees. The silence in the warehouse was penetrating.

"Now as I was saying," Ditto said, the edge on his voice absent, "the reason I want this is because I'm not some stupid suit who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hopefully our little encounter taught you that. As you say, I'm a Prime." Ditto still didn't know what that meant, but revealing weakness before subordinates was always a bad idea. He'd find out eventually. "But I want more. I have designs on this world. I want to rule this Coruscant. I want to command an army so vast and powerful that no one can stop me. But like in business, it's always easier to steal than build from scratch. So consider yourself lucky to be the very first members of my thriving enterprise."

"You want to dethrone Palpatine?" Metal Face said.

"Yes," Ditto said, blissfully unaware who Palpatine was.

"But this is nothing," Machoke Man said, wise enough to keep a level tone. "You've got a handful of criminals and a big shed."

"Aha, but it's more than I had this morning," Ditto said. "I didn't have to find a building suitable enough for my beginnings; it was brought to me. I didn't have to scout out my initial employees; they presented themselves, albeit begrudgingly, but I have them. You're right though. It isn't much. But creating the foundation is often the hardest part. And this foundation will be rock solid."

"What makes you think you can trust us?" Tattoo Parlour said abruptly. "Why shouldn't we just turn on you in our sleep?"

Ditto laughed, his voice booming in the empty warehouse. "That's quite a fanciful imagination you have there, Tattoo Parlour."

"Skaggs."

"What?"

Tattoo Parlour's face scrunched up. "My name is Skaggs."

Ditto's frown deepened. "Of course. Skaggs. Well let me assure you, Skaggs, that if you undertake such a foolhardy course of action, you'll regret it."

Skaggs scoffed. "What, you'll kill me in your sleep, will you? Might be hard if I thrust a knife into your throat before you're even awake."

"First off," Ditto said, "you're assuming you'll be able to kill me. You won't. Secondly, if you attempt, you will fail. And when you fail, I will kill you. But hey, feel free to throw your life away. If your decisions are anything like your taste in tattoos, I'm guessing we'll be hauling your body into the river very soon."

Skaggs growled like a dog and lunged forward, but Machoke Man grabbed him by the shoulder and shook his head.

"Listen to your old boss." Ditto shook his head.

"What is your opinion on hats?!" Basket Case screamed from the other side of the warehouse.

Ditto smiled. "They're great. Wear as many as you want."

Basket Case thought silently for a moment. "I like him!"

"What's your name?" Machoke Man said.

Ditto gave the ex-leader a respectful glance. "Ditto."

"Oh this is bullshit!" Broomhead shouted, jumping to his feet. "Why are we all bowing to this dickhead? We're all stronger than he is, let's just rush him!"

"Don't be stupid," Machoke Man said. "You'll get yourself killed."

"What's wrong, Diesel?" Broomhead said, wide eyed and slack jawed. "Scared? You're a piss poor leader, always were! Why the fuck did I join your limp dicked operation in the first place?!"

"Because Spook Eye was gonna kill you, cockhead!" Skaggs yelled. "Now sit the fuck down and do what Diesel says!"

"But we're not doing what Diesel says, are we?" Broomhead countered. "We're doing what that fuckwit wants us to do! What was his stupid name? Ditto?!" Broomhead laughed mockingly. "Are we gonna just let him run the show now? He just strolls in here and takes over?"

"Roll with the punches," Metal Face said quietly.

"Fuck that!" Broomhead yelled, and rushed towards Ditto. He screamed and cocked a fist, a fiery hatred alight in his eyes.

Ditto took out the pistol and fired.

Broomhead collapsed, yelling and clutching his thigh.

"You're fast proving yourself expendable," Ditto said over the screaming. "You're lucky I still need you for the time being, or that bullet would've been for your head."

Ditto turned his attention to the remainder of the gang. "Let's get to know each other, shall we?" He pointed at Machoke Man. "Diesel, is it? Let's hear about the Skullbangers from its last leader who ever so graciously resigned."

"So ... you ain't gonna kill us?" Diesel asked.

"If I wanted any of you dead, you would be by now."

"And you really wanna help us?"

Ditto snickered. "It's not quite altruistic, but you will definitely benefit from my leadership, if that's what you're hinting at."

Diesel cleared his throat and spat a wad of phlegm on the concrete. "It's like you said. I'm Diesel, and this is my gang." He pointed to Tattoo Parlour. "That's Skaggs, and the guy with all the piercings is Shingles. Vinny's the big guy with the moustache, and Ricky's the one who ain't quite right in the head. Tor is the latest member of the gang, although he's still in on probation."

Ditto nodded. He committed the names to memory. It didn't mean he would always use them, but he would remember them.

Diesel continued. "And ... yeah. We just do what's gotta be done. We're looking for our big break to get rich, but Spook Eye's gang's the biggest on this tier. It took us a long time to crawl outta Tier 6 and we ain't going back 'cause of him. But he's putting the pressure on us more and more every day. It's getting harder, you know? I was thinking we'd either end up joining him and losing any chance for our big break, or he'd kill us. But we're tough. We've been hanging in there."

The look in Diesel's eyes told Ditto that they were 'hanging in there' by the skin of their teeth.

"I managed to convince Tor to join us, which was easy 'cause he fucked over Spook Eye somehow. Spooks isn't exactly the forgiving type, you know? I thought having someone who worked for Spook Eye on our side would give us an advantage, you know? Give us some dirt on that rat bastard."

Ditto looked at Broomhead, fingers wet and red, as Metal Face - no, Shingles - blotted at the wound with a dirty rag, a spool of stained bandage nearby. "And did Tor help at all? Did he give you anything?"

Diesel's eyes moved to Tor. "I thought he did, but now I'm not so sure."

"I heard Tat - uh, Skaggs and Tor talking earlier about some job he was supposed to do. You yourself seemed surprised that he was back so early. I heard that the clones were sent in. Mind illuminating me?"

"I don't like this, boss," Skaggs said. "You shouldn't be-"

"Shut the fuck up," Diesel countered. "Don't tell me what to do." He turned his attention back to Ditto. "Yeah. Tor had good word that Spook Eye was gonna rig one of the F-Zero races on Tier 4. He's a big fan, got his own car and driver in the races and everything. Apparently turns a bit of coin from them. And the easiest way to win is to rig it, right? So Spooks was gonna attach an explosive of some sort to his rival's car, have it detonate during the race. Supposed to be some high quality shit, no forensics team would even know anything went wrong, Meant to make it look like a malfunction in the anti-gravity regulator. Then once his main competitor's out of the way, he wins race after race and hauls in the dough."

"Anti-gravity regulator, huh?" Ditto remarked. "Sounds like you know a thing or two about these F-Zero cars."

"Yeah, done a bit of work on 'em in the past," Diesel said. "Don't get a name like Diesel for fucking around in an office, do ya?"

"Guess not." Ditto motioned with his pistol. "Continue."

"Well, Tor was supposed to stop the bomb from going off. He knew what it looked like, he said, and he knew who Spooks's rival was, so all he had to do was find the hovercar, find the bomb on it, and bring it back. Plus he heard whisperings that Spook Eye's winnings from the last race were in a safe in the same hanger. We'd get a nice piece of tech and some cash."

Ditto furrowed his brow. "He was going to bring back a live bomb into your warehouse? Does he even know how to disarm it?"

"Hey," Tor said through gritted teeth. "It ain't rocket science. Green button for on, red button for off. I might be dumb but I ain't that fucking dumb."

Ditto pieced the puzzle together in his head. The stormtroopers rushed down from Tier 1 to attend to something urgent, something that required a greater armed presence than what was already available on Tier 4. An explosion might do that. But Ditto had a feeling something bigger would merit the attention the incident received.

"So what happened?" Ditto directed the question to Tor. "I know some of those guards came all the way down from Tier 1 to check out a problem on Tier 4. And I have a niggling suspicion you had something to do with it."

"Yeah, yeah, it was me," Tor said, wincing as Shingles worked at the bullet in his leg. "I snuck into the bay and found the bomb where it was supposed to be. But I wanted to make sure Spooks wouldn't race either. I wanted to get back at that prick. So I was gonna steal his F-Zero racer."

"You idiot," Skaggs said. "You don't even know how to drive stick. How would you drive a hovercar?"

"Just let me finish," Tor said with some restraint. "Anyway, Spook Eye's racer was right next door to his rival's, so I found the bomb and took it off. Only thing is, even though I turned off the damn thing, it had some pressure sensor bullshit or something, because it started beeping as soon as I grabbed it. So I ran for my life into Spooks's hanger and threw the damn thing in there. Then I bolted outta there. I was a good way out from the track when the explosion went off, but holy fuck, it was way bigger than I was expecting. Maybe the bomb didn't just target the anti-hover majigger?"

"So that explains why you came back with no fucking money," Skaggs said.

"Could've been more explosive material in Spook Eye's hanger?" Fatty ventured.

Tor shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I still feel like there's a piece of the jigsaw missing," Ditto said. "Tier 1 is defined by its opulence and constant armed enforcement. Why would they dispatch troops from the very bastion of Coruscant to Tier 4? What about the other tiers? Why not them? And why did they need more troops than Tier 4 already has to deal with an explosion?"

Diesel nodded. "You're right. Not the first time something blew up there. Never had clones from Tier 1 run down there. Something's off."

"Then we need more information. We need to find out exactly what went down at the track. How do we do that?"

Fatty spoke up. "There's a chick in Tier 5. Knows about anything worth knowing. Don't know how she does it, but she prides herself in it."

"Shut up," Skaggs said softly.

"Would she know about this?" Ditto asked.

Fatty scoffed. "If she doesn't, she'd be losing her touch."

"Who is she?"

"No one knows," Shingles said. "Goes by the name of Enigma."

Ditto rolled his eyes. Great. A mysterious information broker with a flair for stupid names. "So how do we talk to this Engima?"

"She only talks to me," Skaggs said.

"What? Why?"

"Don't ask," Fatty said, resignation in his voice. "Just ... don't ask."

Skaggs didn't look like he was about to elaborate.

"It matters little," Ditto said. "How do we find her?"

"Take a guess," Shingles said, finishing the last tight wrap of the bandage on Tor's thigh.

Ditto looked at Skaggs. "Right. Well then, we've no time to waste. Let's go see this Enigma."

"No," Tattoo Parlour said.

Ditto grinned smugly. "Well, didn't we wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"I'm not showing you," the bald man repeated. "I'm not your fucking dog. I won't listen to you."

Ditto shrugged. "I could just as easily kill you."

"And then you wouldn't be able to find Engima, would you?" Skaggs replied.

"What does it matter? If you won't show me alive, you won't show me dead, either. Besides -" A white light consumed Ditto, and when it faded, a second Skaggs stood in his place. "- I have a feeling she might talk to me, innit?"

Skaggs's eyes grew wide. "You motherfucker! Don't you dare talk to Enigma!"

Ditto reverted back to his Giovanni form. "Then let's come to an agreement. You take me to Engima, and I won't find her as you and do ... something you would regret. You wouldn't want that on your conscience, would you? Because it certainly wouldn't be on mine."

"You wouldn't even know where to find her!" Skaggs fired back.

Ditto shook his head. "Come on, Skaggs. You don't think I couldn't find a way to lure her out disguised as you? There's obviously some important connection between you two. And if I do say myself, I am a terrific actor."

Skaggs breathed heavily. He looked at Diesel, who inclined his head slightly. Through bared teeth, he said, " ... fine. I'll ... I'll set up a meeting." He got up, rubbed at the dried blood on his lip furiously and left without another word.

"Get some rest," Ditto said to the remainder of the gang. "We'll talk tomorrow. Oh, and you're no longer known as the Skullbang gang anymore. From this moment on ... you are Team Rocket."

[Jim Raynor]

"I don't like this," Skaggs hissed, words slipping through clamped teeth.

"I didn't ask you to like it," Ditto murmured, hands in pockets. "I told you to do it."

The staircase was grimy and splattered with a dried mystery fluid. People streamed past them as they descended, with most eyeing Skaggs and taking another step to the side. The stench that wafted up from underground was horrendous, a terrible concoction of body odour and vomit with a trace of urine. Ditto exhaled sharply through his nostrils as it first reached him, and then decided to breathe through his mouth.

"How do you vagrants live like this?" Ditto asked as they left the last stair and passed under a flickering fluorescent light. "It's like you wallow in your own excrement for pleasure."

Skaggs gave Ditto a sideways glare. "You think this is a choice? What option do we have?"

"We could've met Enigma above ground, for one. Somewhere well ventilated, preferably."

"Stop your whining," Skaggs bit back, thumping shoulders with a man in a trenchcoat heading towards the staircase. "You're getting what you want."

Ditto's eyes sharpened. Mental note: don't treat Skaggs with anything but disdain or authoritarian discipline. "Watch your tone, Tattoo Parlour." Ditto didn't actively call him that anymore, but he noticed the extra wrinkles that formed on the thug's brow when he used it, and he used it specifically for that reason. "If I talk to you with any measure of civility, be grateful for it instead of throwing it back in my face. You might regret that."

Skaggs looked like he had more to say, but he kept his mouth shut and busied himself with pushing through the crowd.

They soon entered the subway station. Railway tracks lined both sides of the thin and dimly lit platform. A few commuters loitered about, some sitting on the chipped and discoloured plastic chairs while doting on their smartphones like a mother on their child. Others leaned against the support columns covered in cracked tiles, disinterested eyes moving over the dull landscape impatiently as they waited for their train. The cavernous subway tunnels darkened about two feet from the last fluorescent lights on the ceiling, leaving a great deal of mystery as to what lay beyond the veil. If the overwhelming scent of urine was any indication, there was an entire civilisation of hobos in them, and none of them cared about sanitation.

"Is she here?" Ditto asked in a low voice.

"We'll get to her soon," Skaggs said. He opened his mouth to add something, but ostensibly thought better of it.

Good. He was learning.

It came as faint echoes at first; a squeaking, grinding noise, dancing off the filthy walls. Louder and louder it grew; the sound of steel rolling over steel, the shaking of metal. A handful of the sitting commuters stood out of their chairs and peered into the consuming black maw of the tunnel in anticipation. A dim yellow light pierced through the darkness, and moments later the train screeched into the station, brakes whining as the dilapidated vehicle slowed down and finally shuddered to a halt. Automatic doors hissed open, some only parting half way, as the commuters struggled onto the cramped carriages.

Skaggs waited until the station was empty and the train's wheels started their gradual, squealing motion before he made any move at all. Ditto kept close to his side as they walked with the train, the faces through the windows speeding up until they were blurs of colour. As the last carriage threatened to zoom past, Skaggs burst into a sprint, catching Ditto off guard.

"Hey!" Ditto shouted, chasing after him. "Where do you think you're going?!"

As the edge of the final carriage whizzed out of the weak light and into the black of the tunnel, a hooded figure flung themselves at Skaggs. Ditto watched as the tattooed thug reached out and caught the leaper in mid air in a fierce hug, taking several staggered strides backwards to peter out the momentum. Skaggs put down his catch and Ditto walked up.

"Enigma, I take it?"

The woman looked at Ditto. The cowl shadowed her forehead and the top of her eyes, but Ditto could see a sparkle in them. She sized him up, mouth in a half smile. She was svelte, dressed all in black, and about the same height as Skaggs, although that didn't make her tall. A dagger had somehow found its way into her fingers and spun through them with natural ease. It was small, the blade no bigger than Ditto's index finger, but he suspected she knew how to implement it for maximum effect.

"Mhm. So you're ... Ditto, are you?" she said in a mirror smooth voice.

Ditto was already delving into her. Dextrous, confident, elusive ... best not underestimate her.

"Indeed," he responded. "That's an interesting mode of transportation."

"No one checks the back of the carriage. Plus it's more exciting."

Ditto nodded. "It was quite the gesture to agree to see me. Skaggs here tells me you only ever meet with him."

Enigma flicked her head up slightly, and Ditto saw a black lock of hair swing down her cheek and back into the hood. "Usually. Skaggs is the only one I can trust. But he did tempt with a saucy tidbit of information, and he'd only give it up if you were allowed to participate." She glanced at the thug for a moment, then back to Ditto. "And he knows I can never resist that."

Ditto eyed Skaggs, who wore his normal scowl. What was he up to?

"Really? And what, pray tell, did he have in store for you?"

Engima smiled. "You."

Ditto's countenance faltered momentarily, but he caught it before it sagged for too long. "I beg your pardon dear, I could've sworn you said me."

"Oh, I did," Engima went on. "He told me you defeated the Skullbangers singlehandedly. They threw everything at you and you just - bonk! - knocked them down, one after another. Even Diesel couldn't stop you. And then you took them over! Changed their name and everything! It's not every day you hear of something like this. Some guy just walks off the street and decides to overthrow a petty six man gang? I just had to meet you."

Enigma's thin lips pressed into a smirk. Was she teasing him?

"Oh, and don't call me 'dear.'"

Skaggs didn't grin, but the rest of his face seemed to smile.

Enigma was in far too much control here. Ditto hated being led in a conversation, especially when the other person held the information he craved. He had to turn this around somehow.

"That's very ... gracious of you," Ditto said, adding a grunt to show his impatience, "but I didn't come here to be praised." I've got a mirror for that. "I've heard you've got your ear to the ground in Coruscant. Nothing gets by you. Am I right?"

Ditto watched Enigma's features as she processed the challenge to her reputation. To her credit, she didn't give an inch. She plunged her dagger into a camouflaged sheath on her hip. "That's right. Someone so much as coughs in this place and I'll know about it."

"So then, I take it you know all about the explosion on Tier 4."

"The F-Zero track," she said. "Unfortunate business that. All those people had turned up for a sporting race, and some terrorist has to blow it up and ruin everyone's fun."

Ditto narrowed his eyes. "I'm afraid my interest in the matter is less than humanitarian."

"Oh?" Enigma feigned surprise, then smiled, as if she amused herself. Arrogant.

"Yes. I happen to know that a large contingent of clones was sent down from Tier 1 to Tier 4 in order to assist. I have a hard time believing that such reinforcements were necessary for such an incident, especially those guarding the uppermost level of the city." Ditto held out an open hand, palm up. "Care to fill me in on what the real reason was for their presence?"

"Ah," Enigma said. "I see."

She paced about the dingy station, the flickering lights occasionally plunging what was visible of her face into darkness. No one else had arrived since the last train roared through. Enigma knew how to orchestrate a clandestine meeting. Smart.

After a long and infuriating pause, she looked up. "Tell you what, Ditto. I'll let you know everything I know about the explosion at the track."

Ditto caught on. "If?"

"You've done this before," Enigma said in mellifluous tones.

"The knowledge 'industry' isn't well known for its pro bono work, my dear." Ditto smirked.

For the first time, Ditto saw her slip. A slight and extremely quick pressing of her lips. But it faded as fast as it happened. She really hated being talked down to. Ditto could appreciate that.

"No, I suppose it's not," she replied in a much less soothing voice. "Skaggs told me something I find hard to believe. As an information broker, all unverified claims, especially exaggerated ones, are worthless to me unless I can be certain they hold water. And you are the one who can make this fairy tale come true."

Knowledge that Skaggs had that was hard to swallow? What would ... oh.

"I think I know where this is headed," Ditto said, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets.

"You do? Then let's get it out in the open and make sure we're on the same page," Enigma said. "Skaggs said you can shapeshift. In all my years, I've never heard of something like that. I've heard of incredibly skilled warriors, of people who can shoot energy out of their hands, wield magic, fly without a hovercar, all sorts of things. But to change your form? That's a rare skill indeed." Her eyes narrowed. "If it exists."

"Are you suggesting that the payment for the information is to be made by me transforming into another form?" Ditto asked.

Enigma shook her head. "I'm not suggesting it. I'm saying it."

Ditto eyed Skaggs and Enigma, both with hard and unreadable expressions. Transform? Why would she want to see that? Ditto had a hard time believing her reasoning was honest, but when he considered it, what harm was there in it? Skaggs and Team Rocket knew he could morph, and he had no concerns about that. If an 'information broker' knew as well, how could that affect him? Having dealt with many of her kind in Kanto, Ditto knew such facts were their livelihoods. It wouldn't be blabbed to the first person she bumped into on the street. It might sell for a high enough offer, but even then, so what? Ditto's ability to transform meant no one could ever know it was really him. A physical description was worthless when he could strip and mould his body at will, and an enemy knowing that pre-emptively made such a little difference, especially since he was so skilled at ... well, everything.

Ditto looked back to Enigma.

... didn't it?

"And what if I refuse?" Ditto said.

Enigma shook her head. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."

"What if I offered you money? Property?"

"No."

Ditto rubbed at his chin. "Why would you even want to know something like that? What worth is there in that information?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Enigma said. "But enough stalling. Do we have a deal or not?"

Ditto didn't trust those shaded eyes, but he wouldn't find out about the explosion if he didn't comply. Even though a cursory consideration of the effects of unveiling his ability resulted in nothing concerning, Ditto still felt this would come back to bite him somehow.

Oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.

"Fine," Ditto said. "Any requests?"

Enigma's eyes rolled upwards. "Hmm ... how about me?"

"You?" Ditto said.

"Unless that's too hard for you." She smirked.

Ditto shone with a white light and began recomposing himself. In a few moments, a perfect replica of Enigma stood before her, although Ditto had guessed her hairstyle.

Enigma looked at him with wide, probing eyes. "Impressive. So it was true after all."

Ditto immediately changed back into Giovanni. "So. I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now your turn."

"One more thing," she said. "Can you become anything?"

"Yes."

Enigma nodded. "Then I am satisfied to know Skaggs wasn't lying to me. So you want to know about the explosion."

Ditto inclined his head. "Please."

Enigma took in a breath. "You're right. It wasn't the explosion that brought the clones down. There was enough of a stormtrooper presence at the F-Zero race to handle any terrorist activity, and there always is. No, there was someone there. Someone with quite a high profile. Someone the Empire had a great interest in obtaining."

After a pause, Ditto motioned with his hand. "Yes?"

"Have you heard about the bounty of the rogue space marine?"

"No," Ditto said, and immediately regretted it. Something told him Enigma, even as she was paying him, was still extracting more currency from him.

"Then you may find this interesting. The Empire was developing this gadget that can take the user directly into the Dataverse without using an upload terminal. So basically, you could enter the Dataverse from anywhere. No restrictions. Quite a potent bit of technology."

"I can see the implications," Ditto said, completely lying. His eyes scoured Engima's, but he still couldn't decipher her looks.

"Unfortunately for Palpatine, the soldier who was supposed to field test it decided to steal it for himself and hasn't been seen since. The Empire couldn't track him down immediately, so they're offering a reward for anyone who finds him and brings him to justice."

"What's this got to do with the F-Zero track?"

"I'm getting to that," Enigma said. "At the course, there happened to be a sighting of another of that soldier's squad. Most of them have been detained since the escape, but one other has been at large as well. I don't know why he was at the F-Zero track of all places, but the explosion seemed to spook him and he drew attention to himself. Once he had been identified, the Empire wanted to make sure he wouldn't escape, so they sent in the clones from Tier 1."

Ditto folded his arms. "And did they catch him?"

"What do you think?"

Ditto considered what he heard. A device that could upload the user into the Dataverse ... was that like the Omniverse's version of the Internet? Like Bill's Storage PC, taking people directly into the digital networks, as so many Pokemon from his world had done before? It seemed like such a rudimentary ability to Ditto, but to do it on the fly, without a terminal ... well, Kanto didn't have that sort of technology. Wireless information was just beginning to flourish when he ... left. Perhaps this Empire had honed that same technology that was only in its infancy in his home land.

In any case, such an item would prove rather handy. It sounded like the perfect escape tool; hide out of sight and disappear into the binary infrastructure, only to reappear in a completely different location. Not to mention the opportunities being inside a computer network could provide. He wondered how hard it would be to crack a bank's firewall with a digital Hydro Pump.

"This bounty," Ditto said. "Where do I go to find out more?"

Enigma slipped a folded note from out of a pocket and handed it to Ditto. "Go here. They'll get you on the right track."

"How'd you know I would want this?" Ditto said, taking the square of paper.

Enigma gave a quick, mirthless smile. "I knew what you were coming here to ask about. And before you ask how, what else would it be? You're not the first person who's come to me in search of my services lately, and they all want to know the same thing." She paused. "Hope you learned something useful."

Ditto nodded. "I think so."

"Oh, and one more thing," Enigma said. "I'm joining your gang."

"What?" Skaggs said suddenly. "No fucking way!"

"You want to join Team Rocket?" Ditto said. That was unexpected. She said it with such gusto and conviction. What was her angle? Stay on guard.

"I do," she said. "I'm sick and tired of always hiding in the shadows, staying out of sight. It's tough and dangerous. I want to find somewhere that offers some safety. Somewhere where I can hide out when I need to. Plus, I get a strong vibe from you that hanging around you will make for some intriguing times. You might even be worth your weight in gold."

"I just said no, for fuck's sake!" Skaggs yelled. "You ain't doin' it! Now hop back on the next train and get going!"

"I know you mean well," Enigma said in a falsely sweet voice, "but I don't listen to anyone."

"That'll change if you join Team Rocket," Ditto said, pocketing the note. "You'll be taking orders from me." Good. Establish the chain of command.

"Here's what I propose," Enigma said. "I join and get access to everything the rest of your cronies do. I'll even listen to your direction, but you have to let me do my own thing. I'm happy to assist you in any way I can, but I'm still working for myself."

Ditto cottoned on. "So you're really more of a contractor than an employee."

Enigma smiled faintly. "That's a good way to look at it."

"Why should I trust you?" Ditto said, giving her a hard stare. "Seems you might be a bigger liability than an asset."

Enigma cocked a brow. "You sought me out, remember? You wanted the information I had. I know much, much more than just a little bomb going off at a dirty race track. And I'm always learning more. I have ears and eyes everywhere. If I'm in your gang, you have unfettered access to that information."

"Good point," Ditto murmured. "But you didn't address the question."

"Oh, didn't I?" Enigma smiled. "So I didn't."

"You better not let her join," Skaggs said in a low voice.

Ditto's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry? Is that backtalk I hear, Tattoo Parlour? After we just finished a discussion about this very topic? I better have misheard you."

Skaggs looked like he would tear out Ditto's throat with his teeth. "I ..." He sighed heavily. "I'm not fuckin' happy about this."

"Duly noted," Ditto said dryly. "It pains me to know my one true confidant dislikes my decision." He wanted to hire the informant even more now, even if just to ruffle Skaggs's feathers. He turned to Enigma. "You may be a part of Team Rocket. You may do as you wish, but when I desire your unique skills, you will make my requests your priority."

Enigma answered with a curt nod. "So, I guess I'll see you there."

"Do you know where the warehouse is?" Ditto asked.

"Of course she does," Skaggs said.

Enigma smiled. "I wouldn't be much of an informant if I didn't."

She hopped off the platform and dashed into the tunnel, quickly vanishing from sight, her footfalls echoing off the walls until they stopped entirely.

Skaggs glowered at Ditto but said nothing. They left the subway station, climbing up the staircase and out of the fetid smell. As they walked, he knew he had made a risky decision. Enigma definitely had no allegiance to Ditto, and assuredly had a plan brewing involving the Pokemon. Ditto couldn't see it yet, but he needed to be on guard. Conversely, so did she. As soon as Enigma stopped providing a benefit to Team Rocket, she would be removed. It was a flimsy arrangement, but they both stood to profit.

Ditto just had to ensure that he didn't get the bad end of the deal. As long as he employed his trademark wits, he would be fine. He'd be keeping a closer eye on Skaggs though, just in case. There was something going on between them, an unspoken connection. A friend, sibling, lover? Ditto would get to the bottom of it.

Ditto fished out the square of paper that Enigma had given him and unfolded it as they walked. It detailed the location of a maximum security detention centre. A basic rundown of the captured soldier's description was listed, and a few helpful suggestions as to how Ditto should carry himself while there. It was more than enough to get started.

Yet as they headed back to the warehouse, Ditto couldn't quell the itch at the back of his mind that maybe Enigma had big plans for that information he traded with her. And he wouldn't like the results one bit.

-----

Ditto's shoe clomped on the sidewalk as he stepped out of the hovering taxi. He slapped the door closed and took a deep breath of cool, refreshing Tier 1 air. The sounds of the city bombarded his ears; flying vehicles cutting through the sky, the undefinable and muddled conversations of the writhing lines of civilians swarming the sidewalk. As the taxi left Ditto to himself, he withdrew the folded square of paper Enigma had given him and unfurled it. His eyes skimmed the instructions, taking care to ensure no one else caught a glimpse, then pocketed it again.

He waited, watching the streams of people clogging his way, hoping for a moment where a space could open up. As much as he dealt with them and even wore one their own's skin for the majority of his life, Ditto hated humans. Being near worthless, strategically bankrupt humans was even worse, and the idea of touching them made his skin crawl. Having to shuffle in tune with a whole gaggle of the feral monkeys insulted his pride, but he had to do it. Sacrifices have to be made in order to achieve greatness. At least, that's what Giovanni always said.

Ditto sighed through gritted teeth and slipped in front of a suited businessman, quickly adopting the crowd's pace. He clamped his teeth shut as he trudged along, focusing on his target. The location was only around the corner, and then he could shed the crowd and be on his way.

Ditto burst free of the people at the corner and crossed the road. Hovercars came to an abrupt halt as he walked over the pedestrian crossing, although moments earlier Ditto was certain he would be run down. As soon as he made it to the other side, the hovercars wasted no time in taking off.

Passing immaculate stores and businesses, Ditto eventually came upon a plain white building, thin compared to the others that adjoined it. Two single windows glistened in the sun, high above the door. Two stormtroopers flanked either side, rifles at the ready, staring stoically into the city. On a street where every other building was teeming with customers, the stark and unadorned front stood out. Ditto, as little of an opinion he had on humans, knew that the citizens of Tier 1 must have noticed the difference. Though it was likely they avoided it precisely because they had a good idea that it didn't involve them in the slightest.

Ditto strolled up to the door. As he expected, one of the stormtroopers raised his hand. "Halt. This building is restricted."

"I have no doubt," Ditto responded. "After all, you wouldn't want just anyone coming through here."

"Move on," the other stormtrooper said. "We won't ask you again."

"Not fans of small talk?" Ditto said, although he knew he was pressing his luck. He flicked his wrist and out came a small computer chip. "This ought to speak volumes."

One of the stormtroopers took the chip and took out a handheld device with a screen. He jacked the chip into the device and watched the screen quietly for a moment. "I see. Come in."

They ushered Ditto into the door. The chip had been provided by Enigma when she arrived at Team Rocket's headquarters, saying that it would get him in to apply for the bounty hunter position. Ditto had considered it may have been a trap, and was at least expecting Enigma to spring one in the future, but something told him that she didn't have the desire to get rid of him yet. He also thought about bringing at least one of his new crew with him, but he didn't know how notorious they were. He didn't want to lose any of his gang to the Empire yet, and for no reason. Of course, leaving them alone meant giving them an opportunity to plot against their new dictator. Hopefully they weren't so forgetful that they would misremember their battle, and that Ditto could do it all over again.

Then again, he thought with a smirk, I did leave behind an insurance policy.

The inside of the white building was as plain and small as its outside suggested. A single desk was against the wall and a handful of plain wooden chairs faced it on the opposite wall. A suited man tapped away at a computer without looking up at their entrance.

"Talk to him," the stormtrooper said, handing back the computer chip. The soldiers went back outside to their posts.

Ditto walked up to the desk. "I'm here about the rogue soldier bounty."

The man kept his eyes glued to the screen. "Through the door."

Ditto looked to the back wall and saw the door. He walked through it and found himself in a metal detector.

"Stand still," came the receptionist's voice through a speaker. "This will just take a second."

Ditto stood still as an array of sensors scanned him, ostensibly searching for any concealed weapons. He was glad he didn't bring a gun now.

"OK, you're clear," the voice said. "Enter the elevator."

As the receptionist's voice quietened, two steel doors opened before him. Ditto stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed.

"Wait," Ditto said, his fingers sliding down the slick wall. "Where are the buttons?"

The elevator shuddered and fell much faster than Ditto was expecting. At first he thought the cable snapped, but the speed reduced little by little until it moved at a reasonable pace. As he descended, a question struck him; where was he going? He was on Tier 1. Where was the compound for the captured soldier? If it was in Tier 2, why wasn't he directed there instead?

Ditto's southern expedition halted as the elevator clicked to a stop. The doors slid open, revealing a windowless, steel grey corridor. Ditto strolled to its end and pushed through the door.

He found himself in a perfect square room. A windowed office was inset into the wall, and a heavily locked, reinforced door sat in the right corner. Ditto walked up to the counter. No one was there. He rapped his knuckles on the glass.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

A light burst from the ground, spreading out onto the roof, and in the spray appeared a featureless face.

"Good day, sir. How may I assist you?"

A computer? "Who are you?"

"I am Sector, the custodian of this maximum security facility."

Damn it, a computer. It was much harder to socially engineer a collection of ones and zeroes, should the need arise. "Are you a person?"

"No. I am an AI designed to watch over the interred criminals here."

"OK, great. So where am I? Am I on Tier 2?"

"No. You are within an undisclosed location beneath Tier 1."

So, Tier 1.5? A secret level for the worst Coruscant criminals? Interesting. "I'm here to see the soldier captured in Tier 4 a few days ago. I'm a prospective bounty hunter."

"Ah yes. Please provide your verification chip."

Ditto inserted the chip into a slot on the counter. A few moments went by. "Good. You may question him. Do not harm him, or I will be forced to intervene. Fifth door on the right."

Several loud bangs boomed in the square room, and the blast doors parted with a whoosh. Ditto pried them open and walked down a long hallway full of barred doors.

He stood before the fifth door on the right and turned the handle.

Meanwhile, at the Team Rocket's warehouse ...

"No." How many times did he have to say it?

"I'm getting fucking sick of your negative attitude," Tor said.

Diesel stood from the ground, dusting his knees. When he rose back to his full standing position, he was looking down on the mohawked thug. Diesel loved that about his height; it was a great intimidation technique, and people quickly forgot about it when he sat down. "And I'm getting fucking sick of your constant bullshit. I said we ain't doing it. I don't want to hear another word."

"Oh come on, Diesel!" Skaggs piped up. "What are you doing? You ain't showing him loyalty, are you? After what he did to us? To you?"

"It's a stupid, stupid plan," Diesel said again for what felt like the thousandth time. "You're talking about messing with a Prime. A Prime that thrashed us soundly. Whether or not he sees it coming will make no damn difference. You saw what he could do."

Shingles stood next to him. He could always rely on Shingles. A strong man, both physically and in character. Shingles was one of the few people Diesel had genuine trouble ordering around when it went against his ethics. Though the pierced man's morality wavered from time to time, Diesel had him pretty well pegged by now. And one thing he knew about Shingles was that he was loyal.

"Listen to him," Shingles said, his lip rings clinking. "He didn't lead our group for so long because he didn't know what he was talking about."

"I gotta agree," Vinny said, pulling down his tight singlet. "He's never steered us wrong before."

Vinny was a different story. Once a well-to-do businessman with a penchant for gambling, he lost it all when an associate of Spook Eye's swindled him of all his cash, leaving him with nothing. When he protested, they threw him into Tier 6, thinking he'd die there. He very nearly did, had Diesel not found him. Diesel didn't form bonds easily, and rarely with people like Vinny, but he was different, so he looked after him. Vinny definitely didn't have the stomach for fighting, and he hated doing anything illegal even if it would save his own life, but he was smart. The skills he picked up during his career had helped the group on more than one occasion.

"Yeah, until he handed the Skullbangers over to some dickhead in a suit!" Skaggs returned.

"You make it sound like he had a choice," Shingles said.

"Mooooooore paperclips!"

Diesel looked over his shoulder. Ricky somehow had found a stash of paperclips and was making some sort of weird shape on the ground with them. Ricky wasn't exactly a model thug either. While no one could question his fighting ability, he wasn't right in the head. It was a pity; the old Ricky was a good friend of Diesel's. But one day, after sneaking off to do something only Ricky knew what, he came back like ... he was now. Insane. But Diesel could never just let him go. He always held the hope that one day, he would right himself again. So far, that hope was held in vain.

"Enough," Diesel stressed. "We aren't going to do this. The Skullbangers were holding on by a thread. Maybe Team Rocket can be something more."

"Ah, fuck this," Tor said. "Skaggs and I will handle this. And maybe Enigma too?"

The door to the far room in the warehouse banged against the wall. Out walked a familiar face, hands in his blazer pockets, short hair perfectly combed, narrow eyes seething with anger just beneath the surface.

Except no one expected to see him today.

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be ..." Vinny said, trailing off.

"Oh really?" Ditto said, that searing glare fixated on Tor. "You'll handle what, exactly?"

[Jim Raynor]

As Ditto placed his hand on the handle, the door swung out, smacking him squarely in the chin. He stumbled backwards more from surprise than pain, putting a hand out to catch himself on the wall. A coppery taste rolled onto his tongue; he'd bitten his lip. Instantly souring, Ditto looked up as the door opened.

A well built man stared back at him with one organic eye and a red lens. His right arm had been replaced by a robotic prosthetic, though only decipherable from the light grey sheen and segment joints; it otherwise looked natural. His black hair was messy and uncombed, and his leather vest and tall combat boots made him look like a biker. He looked like someone Giovanni might have employed to carry out petty crimes, though not many criminals spent money on upgrading themselves.

His one natural eye was the only one that gave away any emotion, but it was plainly obvious to Ditto what that emotion was. "Blocking my door, are you?"

Ditto clenched his jaw. "That's some nerve, talking to your superiors without respect like that. I don't know what slum your wretched mother spawned you in, but obviously manners weren't a core component in the drug runner curriculum."

"Sounds like I upset you a little. What are you, his lawyer?"

A common thug, it seemed. Not much wit. Though his cybernetic implants warranted a step back from stereotyping him. Common criminals couldn't afford the metal enhancements he had made to himself, and even if they could, they would more often than not blow it on booze or drugs. He could be an independent bounty hunter, or more likely he was being financed by a wealthy individual to get a job done. It wouldn't be the first time Ditto had run into an anomaly like this.

"No, your parole officer sent me. He wanted me to make sure you hadn't stolen any little old lady's purse."

The cyborg grinned at that. "You're funny. Too funny to be a lawyer. But you're not dressed like a bounty hunter. And you think you're better than me. Wait ... you're here to talk to this guy, aren't you?"

Sharper than he looked. What else could Ditto pry out of this idiot? "Smart. I suppose your boss doesn't want any competition. Not good for profits."

"He might not, but I love it," the metal man replied. "It gives me a challenge. It makes hunts that little more exciting."

Ditto smirked. So he was hired by someone, not just a bounty hunter looking for favour with Coruscant's government. It made sense. When Enigma told Ditto the whole story, he knew there would be other unsavoury types out there salivating for the prize.

"Well then, best of luck to you, competitor," Ditto said, outstretching an open hand.

"Best of luck?" The cyborg snorted, and a small barrel extended out of his prosthetic forearm. He pointed it at Ditto's head. "I don't need luck when there's no one else to take the bounty from me."

Ditto scowled. Didn't see that one coming. "I thought you liked a challenge."

Cyborg shrugged. "There'll be others. Besides, I'm not in the mood for a challenge today."

Lights hitherto unnoticed flashed blood red, and a buzzing siren suffocated the hallway. Ditto thrust his hands to his ears, but it only dulled the searing cacophony. Cyborg turned away, doing his utmost to save his precious hearing. What did he care? He could just buy some metal ears.

The alarms faded and a column of blue light filled the space between Ditto and Cyborg. Sector's face materialised. "There is to be no fighting here. You will leave now or I shall escort you."

Cyborg waved dismissively at the AI projection. "Whatever. I was just going anyway." As the thug reached the reinforced doors, he shouted back, "see you round, lawyer." Halting guffawing echoed down the hallway until the doors slammed shut.

"Idiots. Idiots everywhere." Ditto brushed the front of his blazer with his fingers, trying to regain his composure, and walked into the fifth door on the right, this time hopefully without delays.

He stepped into a dusty, dark chamber. A transparent divider ran through the middle of the room. The lights on Ditto's side worked fine, although the bulbs did little to chase away the dark. On the other side of the partition, the lights flickered, staying strong for a moment and then struggling to stay that way. During those flickers, Ditto inspected the cell. The walls were grimy and stained ... blood, Ditto guessed, mired the condition of the room. A dinted bucket sat in the corner, another mystery liquid surrounding it in a pool. The other wall had a sheet of wood and a newspaper against it, ostensibly a bed. As Ditto's eyes crawled across the dank cell again, the light flickered and revealed the prisoner.

He sat atop his knees, head down. His hands and feet were behind him, perhaps bound, but Ditto couldn't see from his angle. An orange jumpsuit, still rather unblemished, covered his muscular body. His shaggy brown hair hid his face.

Ditto walked up to the partition and spoke through a small grate. "Hello."

The man didn't react. He shuffled on the spot, and Ditto heard chains clinking.

"I said hello," Ditto repeated, stressing his words. "I've come to talk to you."

"Yeah?" the voice came, although the prisoner didn't look up. "You've come to call me a piece of trash, a traitor, an enemy to Palpatine as well? Go ahead. I've got nothing but time."

"I don't intend to call you anything unless you provoke me," Ditto said, arms behind his back. "I'm here simply to talk about the circumstances of your arrest."

"Like where my buddy is? Where the missing tech is?" The prisoner's voice grew more frantic with each sentence. His head raised up with the speed of a viper, revealing a black eye and fat lip. "You can fuck off! I'm not telling you anything!"

Ditto exhaled sharply through his nostrils. This wasn't going to be easy. Although he had already picked up some key points; this man likely knew the answer to both questions he just posed. In the condition he was in, he was at his wit's end. If he didn't know anything, he would have denied knowing anything. Instead, he refused to say what he knew. So this wasn't a wild goose chase, at least.

"My only interest is why you were at the F-Zero track," Ditto lied. "It seems like a strange place for a fugitive to go. Packed stadium, a televised event ... any number of people could have spotted you, and they did. Why would you do it? Why not stay incognito? What was at the track that was so important that you risked your life for it?"

The prisoner eyed Ditto for a moment, but then turned away. "Why would you care? You just want the bounty."

True, but I'm not going to say it to your face. "You must understand. If you did this, then another of your squadron may do something similar. If I know your reasoning, I might be able to protect them."

The prisoner furrowed his brow, a layer of dirt cracking on his forehead. "Protect them? I was the last one. They're all arrested now. Like me."

This was going nowhere. This soldier obviously didn't relent to the empathetic angle. Yet he was guarded, aggressively refuting any direct attacks. Ditto couldn't just insult him or threaten him, and he half expected Sector would appear out of the ether to tell him off anyway.

Ditto thought back to what he already knew. "So he's in the Dataverse. I know that much. But apparently it's easy to hide there, since the Empire can't find him. And you must know where he is."

The prisoner bared his teeth. "You won't find him."

The wheels started turning. "Yet you didn't go to him, did you? You were in hiding separately from him. If you were in the same spot as this AWOL soldier, surely that would be the safest place from the Empire." Ditto peered through the clear divider. "So that leads to a very pointed question; why weren't you in the Dataverse with your friend?"

The prisoner's face froze, eyes wide, mouth ajar. "Because ... because if we were found, we would have all been captured. We split up."

Ditto had him. He was spilling information, doing his best to cover up the secret Ditto had stumbled upon. "While that may be true, I doubt it. The Empire is having a bear of a time finding your compatriot, and the Empire is not short on resources. Oh no. And since your friend was part of an R&D experiment, he would've known a few things about what the Empire can do. So if he knew where in the Dataverse the Empire would search ... why, he'd just have to hide somewhere else then, wouldn't he? And if he really was such a good man that his entire squadron would go to jail in order to protect him, then why wouldn't he want his friends with him in the safest place in the Omniverse?"

Silence.

"You don't know where he is, do you?"

The prisoner hung his head. "No."

"Then why?" Ditto said, lifting his arms up. "Why are you lying? Why are you suffering for no reason?"

"Because if the Empire is too busy with me, with our squadron, trying to pry information out of us that we just don't have, then that's more time that -" Ditto sensed the name almost came out, but the soldier caught himself in time "- my friend has to avoid them."

Stupid. Humans and their blasted loyalty. The most stubborn and pointless of moral codes. "Fine. So you're a decoy. But ultimately you didn't plan on getting captured. So now we're back at square one. Why would you go to the F-Zero track?"

"To enjoy the race." The soldier spat on the ground.

Ditto sighed. "Sarcasm just makes this painful ordeal stretch out all the more. Looks like I'll just have to do some more old fashioned thinking out loud." Ditto paced his side of the room, taking his eyes away from the cell and the headache inducing light flicker. "You know your friend is hiding from the Empire but not where, you know the Empire has a bounty out on your head, and yet you wander into a sporting event filled with people, cameras and stormtroopers. Fugitives don't make mistakes; the only reason you were captured was because something happened that you weren't expecting."

"Piss off."

"Oh I'm sorry, I don't mean to be coy. I know the event that surprised you. The explosion."

The soldier looked up at him, eyes questioning. "How do you know I didn't do it?"

"Because I happened to employ the numbskull who was responsible for the explosion," Ditto said. "Well, I hired him after the fact, but he did it. He bungled what sounded like an easy job, and the aftermath resulted in the big bang that drew attention to the F-Zero track and unfortunately, you."

The soldier sighed. "So what?"

"The reason that drew you to that bustling track must've been important. Important enough to risk capture or death. And in your situation, I can only think of one reason that fits the bill."

"You're real clever, aren't you."

"Who knows about the soldier?" Ditto said. "You were going to meet with someone. An informant. Who was it?"

"You'll never guess," the soldier said, sneering. "There were thousands of people there."

"Yes, but thousands of people wouldn't have known anything. There must have been someone specific who could help you. Someone who could have the connections to-"

The soldier looked up. "What?"

Ditto rubbed a hand down his face. "A girl. Black clothes, a hoodie. Knew exactly where to meet so that no one would see you, even in the most crowded place? Appeared and disappeared like a shadow?"

The soldier arched an eyebrow. "How ... how could you know?"

"Because it was staring me in the face the whole time," Ditto seethed through gritted teeth. Dammit! Enigma knew all along and she sent him on a witch hunt! What was she planning? Oh no. The warehouse!

"Thanks for the chat. It was perfectly lovely," Ditto drawled, running out of the room.

[Jim Raynor]

How long had Ditto been there? Diesel was certain he had left much earlier in the day. He was vague about his reasons, but being their new boss afforded him that perk. How much had he overheard?

"What is this?" Diesel said, blinking. "We saw you leave."

Ditto shot a glance at the ex-leader. "So ... what? As soon as I walk out the door, you start planning open rebellion? Is that it?"

"And you thought we'd be perfect angels while you were gone? Huh? You don't deserve this place!" Skaggs fired back, spittle flying from his lips. "This is our gang! And we ain't letting some suit take over because he got lucky!"

"Yeah!" Tor threw in meaninglessly. He smiled widely, apparently happy that someone finally agreed with his longstanding opinion.

Diesel's face muscles tensed. He had a strong urge to leap up and tell them to shut up. They were obviously so wrapped up in their own outrage and hatred that they couldn't see that this was their best chance. Diesel had led the Skullbangers for six years officially as it was now, but longer with certain members. Life had never been easy, but the straight and narrow was a joke in Coruscant. The only way they could ever have the life they wanted was to take it. But while Diesel's leadership was the reason they moved up from Tier 6 to 5 and had their empty warehouse, with Spook Eye in the picture, it was as high as they could climb.

A shaking, blinding rage overtook Diesel as he lied down to sleep every night, but it subsided by morning. Ditto, despite who he was and what he did to Diesel's legacy, might just have what it takes to get them where they deserved to be.

But Skaggs and Tor's pride ignored the ugly truth standing in their faces. No more. If they wanted to throw their lives away to satisfy their petty anger, then that was a choice Diesel couldn't make for them.

"Didn't you hear what the rest of your compatriots said?" Ditto said, shifting the edge of his blazer sleeve. "They don't stand with you. They accept me as the leader of this gang." He looked up suddenly, face blank. "And you should feel privileged."

"Because you came in and started barking orders?!" Tor yelled. "Where's the fucking privilege in that?!"

"I earned that privilege," Ditto stressed with a steely edge. "I was clearly outnumbered and nothing any of you did was enough to stop me earning it. Most of your intelligent companions -"

"They ain't my 'companions,' you cockhead!" Tor shouted.

" - have submitted to the order of things, and they will be much happier and productive," Ditto went on, completely ignoring the mohawked thug's interruption. "However, if you two have a problem, perhaps we should be discussing ... redundancy packages."

"Ha!" Skaggs barked. "You're going to fire us, are you?"

Ditto exhaled sharply through his nostrils. "Again, you fail to pick up on the subtleties of my phrasing. It won't just be a redundancy package from your life as a filth encrusted miscreant working for Team Rocket. It'll be a redundancy package from your life as a filth encrusted miscreant - in all its entirety."

"So you'll kill us?" Tor said. "I'd like to see you try."

Ditto stared them down for a moment, eyes sharp, face chiseled in cold anger. A moment later, he burst out laughing.

"What's so fucking funny?" Skaggs said.

Ditto shrugged. "You got me! You called my bluff. The truth is, you're both too valuable to me to kill. You - " Ditto pointed to Tor, " - have a connection to Spook Eye, whom I very much intend to meet. Having a contact will facilitate the meeting, I feel. And you - " he said, pointing at Skaggs, " - have an as yet undefined but powerful relationship with Enigma. Something tells me I wouldn't be able to trust her even if I saved her life, and killing you certainly wouldn't engender her to me."

"Ha!" Skaggs laughed. "You just admitted you won't kill us! What'll stop us from killing you, I wonder?"

The door crashed open. Diesel turned and his eyes went wide.

Ditto smiled. "Him?"

At the door, light streaming around his body, stood a second Ditto.

Diesel shook his head. "How - that's - you have a twin or something?"

Ditto sprinted into the warehouse, shoes clapping on the concrete ground. Sweat clung to his face. "Where is she?!"

"Where's who?" the original Ditto asked.

"Enigma!" his clone replied. "She and I have urgent business to discuss."

"Wait!" Shingles called out. "Why are there two of you?"

The newest Ditto wiped the sweat from his face and rubbed it on his trousers. "Oh, this. I'm not going to get into the specifics, but let's just say I'll always have my eye on you." He poked the other Ditto in the face hard, and he fell to the ground. On impact, he exploded in pink goo, which bubbled and sizzled as if olive oil had been splashed on a burning hot saucepan. Moments later, it dissolved away.

"Whoa! What the fuck?!" Skaggs yelled. The other gang members, if not jumping to their feet, took a few hurried steps backwards. Except Ricky, who was throwing light bulbs at the back wall, giggling as they shattered into fragments.

"Hey!" Ditto shouted, having lost his usual composure. "I'm not in the mood for distractions! Someone tell me where Enigma is now!"

Diesel hadn't seen Ditto this frazzled before. There had been a lot to process in the last thirty seconds, but seeing his new boss's loss of composure was more unsettling than watching an identical copy of him fall to the ground and evaporate.

He was about to respond when a lithe, black clad figure fell from the catwalk above. "Calm down, will you? I'm here."

Ditto strode over to Enigma, eyes wide. "I don't enjoy being misled, Enigma. Tell me who your contact was at the F-Zero track."

"Ah, if it isn't the real Ditto. Your acid look-a-like was convincing. He even had your mannerisms. But it wasn't you." Enigma narrowed her eyes and stared at Ditto, as if his eyes were obscuring something behind them. "How did you do that?"

The instant she finished her sentence, Ditto shone with white light, and the outline of his form expanded. An extra two arms unfurled from the indistinct silhouette, and Diesel watched as massive muscles chiseled out of nothing. The light faded, and in Ditto's place stood a pale blue humanoid, an almost identical replica of the form he took when he defeated Diesel's gang, except now he lacked a snout and he sported four arms.

All four arms shot out like snakes and wrapped around Enigma's back, thrusting her with a rough thud into Ditto's rock hard abdomen. She cried out at the impact, grimacing.

"Hey!" Skaggs shouted. "Put her down right now, you fucking prick!"

"No more games!" Ditto roared, squeezing the non-compliant informant with an intensely powerful bear hug. Diesel saw, for the first time, Enigma's cool and solid mask crack, revealing true emotion. It was pain. "Tell me it all now before I break your spine!"

"OK! OK!" Enigma yelled, her arms pinned awkwardly to her sides. "The soldier ... I was setting him up to meet one of Spook Eye's bodyguards ... he was there guarding Spook's F-Zero pilot ... he said he had some information ... worth a lot of money!"

"And what happened?" Ditto replied, the anger still burning fiercely in his voice. "What did he know?"

"The explosion ended any chance ... of a meeting," Enigma struggled through shortening breaths. "He wanted to know ... where his soldier friend was ... in the Dataverse."

Ditto's noseless face tightened, and so did his grip. "You're telling half truths, Enigma. You know what that bodyguard knows, don't you? You wouldn't have set them up to meet if the information was false. You're too much of a professional to do otherwise. You insisted on seeing me transform because you had to verify the claims. You would have done exactly the same here."

"Let go!" Skaggs shouted and charged at the four armed boss of Team Rocket. Ditto's head snapped towards Skaggs. As the tattooed criminal threw a punch, hurling all his weight into the attack, one of Ditto's arms released Enigma and backhanded Skaggs across the jaw, sending him sprawling over the ground. He didn't get back up.

"Please ..." Enigma wheezed. "I can't ... can't ..."

"Breathe?" Ditto finished the thought. His face scrunched tightly. "Then tell me the truth!"

"Ah! The bodyguard ... overhead Spook Eye ... they know ... where the ... missing soldier is ... and so ... do I."

"Where?!" Ditto practically screamed.

"Hidden ... in false code ... looks perfectly ... natural ... you'd never know ... just by ... looking."

Ditto's furious eyes burned holes in Enigma for a moment longer, and then he released her. She fell to the ground coughing and spluttering, sucking in air feverishly. Diesel heard Skaggs murmur but he didn't move.

Ditto's muscular alien form vanished amidst a flash of light and returned to his suited human form. His composure had also returned as well. "Get up, Enigma. You will be showing me where I can find this fool in the Dataverse."

Enigma looked up at Ditto, chest heaving. "And if I refuse?"

Ditto smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm sure you've heard about my redundancy packages?"

[Jim Raynor]

Continued from Rogue Code (Continued)

Cyborg lined up his bazooka and fired. Before Ditto even saw the rocket approaching, he slammed his wings down hard and fought for lift. He tucked his talons into his feathered belly as the projectile sailed beneath him, his claw tips tapping the metal. Rising, he glanced behind him as a ball of fire erupted from a skyscraper, shattered glass showering the virtual people below.

Ditto turned back to the bounty hunter. He had three more missiles laying by his feet, one of which he hauled into the bazooka with his robotic arm. There wasn't much time for him to change forms from Pidgeot, and even if he dared fate, it was unlikely he would reach Cyborg before another missile came barrelling towards him. If the missile clipped the edge of the building or worse, fired into the ceiling, only Pidgeot would get Ditto out of there alive.

A vindictive thought tugged at the edge of his mind, demanding he consider Engima's role in his current situation and find her. After all, she had duped him again, and left him in a life threatening mess while she likely went off to cause more havoc. Ditto wanted to pursue that thought, but his better instincts kicked in as Cyborg propped the rocket launcher on his shoulder again and took aim.

"Stay still this time, talking bird."

"Aren't you curious as to how a bird can talk?" Ditto said, flapping his wings faster but staying in place. Would he notice?

Cyborg scoffed. The wind tussled his scruffy hair. "I don't get paid to be curious. I get paid to blow stuff up. Besides, it's the Dataverse. There ain't anything surprising in here anymore."

The winds propelled from Ditto's wings snuck up on Cyborg, and he didn't realise it until the last moment. His one eye went wide as he pulled the trigger, the Gust catching the lip of the bazooka and jerking it upwards. The missile zoomed straight up and into the atmosphere.

Strange. He intended for his Gust to launch Cyborg off his feet and over the lip of the building, but instead the effect was mitigated somehow.

Ignoring the thought for now, Ditto flattened his wings against his feathery body and darted at Cyborg, who was clumsily trying to insert another rocket into his weapon. Ditto threw out his wings, opened his clawed talons and aimed for the shoulder of Cyborg's organic side.

Cyborg looked up, let the rocket slip from the bazooka and clang on the roof, and swung the weapon like a baseball bat. Ditto flapped his wings furiously, trying to push himself out of his all-or-nothing attack, but he had picked up too much speed.

A massive throbbing pain boomed through his side as the bazooka connected, and a second echoed on his other side as he skidded across the roof. After coming to a stop, Ditto rose to his feet and a mechanical hand seized his neck.

"Not much of a fighter," Cyborg grimaced, tightening his grip.

He threw Ditto to the ground and stamped on his chest. Ditto's lungs compressed and his breath raced out of his beak. He tried to scratch at Cyborg's boots with his talons, but either they were armoured or he wasn't much of a combatant in the Dataverse. Transforming was out of the question too, as he lied on the ground, wheezing for breath, wings beating uselessly at Cyborg's legs.

"Heh, some match," Cyborg grinned to himself as he hoisted the bazooka into both hands and held its end over Ditto's head. "Better luck next time, talking bird."

Cyborg rammed the bazooka into Ditto's head, and everything went black.

--------------

Ditto opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. Back in Coruscant. Shit.

He grabbed a handful of wires attached to his skull and yanked off the sticky pads from his skin. Enigma was not sitting next to him at the other terminal anymore. She'd fled the Dataverse already.

Ditto got to his feet and brushed off his suit. Something about that virtual reality weakened him. That cybernetic oaf got the better of him, and far too quickly for his liking. Perhaps avatars suffer from some sort of penalty? All the more reason to claim that mobile Dataverse device for himself.

If his combat skills weren't useful in his quest, then it was back to his old cunning, deceitful strategies.

He walked away from the Dataverse terminals, hands in pockets, mulling over his options. Enigma had taken off as soon as he encountered Cyborg, which means she must have had a hand in setting up their meeting, knowing full well how it would end, and know that it would inconvenience Ditto. But for what? What was she planning?

It also raised the question; was the rogue solider even in that simulated city, or was it just the agreed upon location for Enigma and Cyborg to take Ditto out? The Dataverse was a massive, incalculably large place. He could be hiding anywhere.

Ditto pressed his lips together in a wan smirk. He needed more information, and his best informant was going rogue. There was only one place he could think of where perhaps there was some more data he could wring free, but it was a long shot. Any other avenue he would choose to take might take too long; if Cyborg already had a head start, his window was already closing.

Ditto ran.

------

"You again?" the prisoner said feebly, head sagging down to the ground again. He was kneeling in almost the same position as last time. Was he bound there, stuck to kneel? Why even give him a bed?

"Yes, me again," Ditto said coolly, masking his impatience. "Glad to see you remember me."

The prisoner snickered. "I suppose you've come back for more information? Tried finding him but had no luck, so you're scraping the bottom of the barrel? You're getting desperate."

"I'm not so interested in your friend as you might think," Ditto said, and this time, there was a hint of truth amongst his words. "Do you remember that ugly prick who came through here?"

"You mean you?"

"Very amusing. I'm talking about the cybernetic gentleman that spoke to you before me. Giant steel arm, red lens for an eye - not hard to pick out of a crowd, by any means."

The prisoner scoffed, his messy hair bouncing from the breath. "What of it?"

"I want to stop him. I have a feeling he's close to your friend, but he's difficult to pinpoint in the Dataverse."

"Stop him?" the prisoner said incredulously. "You just don't want him to beat you to your quarry."

"Surely you jest," Ditto said icily. "He and I have some unfinished business, and I'd like to extract it out of him. Besides, if I'm busy dealing with him, that gives your friend more time to move around. I can't deal with Cyborg and your little rogue friend at the same time, can I?"

The prisoner looked up at Ditto, face uncertain. His bruises were healing. "What's your angle?"

Ditto smirked. "Do you care? I'm offering a reprieve for your friend, at the least. I just want you to answer a question for me."

"What is it?"

"Do you have any idea who Cyborg works for?"

The soldier dropped his head again. "He let it slip when he was berating me. But the name didn't make any sense."

Ditto fought back the jolt of anger in the back of his brain. "What is it?"

"Spook Eye."

Ditto's eyes widened. "Of course." Enigma said as much when I almost killed her. She said the rogue soldier was meeting with a bodyguard of Spook Eye's at the F-Zero track. It was him all along.

He smiled. He knew what he had to do now.

[Jim Raynor]

Tor chaffed at the black hood pulled over his vibrant red mohawk as they strode down the alleyway. A light bulb above flickered as they past, casting and recasting their shadows upon the cracked concrete. The sounds of the city were long behind them, but Ditto still heard the blaring of horns and screeching of tires, though heavily muffled. The wind caressed his feathers and he stretched out his wings to let the gale tunnel through and into his skin. A lovely, cool night.

Ditto hopped onto the building's ledge and peered down on Tor. He reached the end of the alleyway, a streetlight bathing his black outfit as he looked down both ways of the street. He looked up, locking eyes with Ditto's sharp and ever-seeing gaze. He shook his head, swaying the luxurious pink feathers that bloomed between his eyes and flared over his head. He saw Tor frown and mutter something under his breath before crossing the empty street.

Ditto flared Pidgeotto's wings and leaned off the building. He glided overhead, reaching the other side of the road. His talons clenched onto the edge of the next building and his eyes quickly locked on to Tor.

He hated that this uncontrollable and disrespectful fool was his best hope at finding Spook Eye's lair. Tor was volatile at the best of times. To even get him to follow orders was a draining undertaking, and it wouldn't necessarily bear fruit. Why he had such a vendetta against Ditto he couldn't understand. He was making the gang better. Isn't that why he defected from Spook Eye in the first place? And yet he wouldn't listen, even when Diesel told him to comply, a person who he seemed to hold in high esteem.

Well, no matter. Ditto had an unwavering eye on him. If he didn't take him to where he requested, Tor would find himself floating face down in the nearest river.

The mohawked thug walked up to the very building Ditto was perched on and pointed to the door. Ditto jumped to a nearby streetlight with the assistance of his wings to get a better look. Tor looked around frantically in the silence that followed and walked away. He gave Ditto one hard glance, and when he didn't receive a reproachful glare in return, headed off down the street, hands in pockets.

Ditto fluttered down to the sidewalk and scurried behind the wall. Picturing his new disguise, Pidgeotto's body shimmered with white light and the shapeless mass grew and expanded. The luminescence faded and Cyborg stood in the bird Pokemon's place. Flexing his robotic arm, Ditto strolled to the door of the building and wrapped his knuckles on it.

A chunk of the wooden door slid to the right and a pair of eyes scrutinised him. "Yeah?"

"Let me in," Ditto said in a pitch perfect replica of Cyborg's voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the Dataverse?" the voice questioned.

"I forgot something. Let me in."

The harsh eyes scanned Ditto one more time and the slit closed. A number of muffled clicks sounded from the other side of the door and then it swung open. Ditto wasted no time and headed in.

The guard that let Ditto in looked at him sternly as he closed the door, then turned away briefly to rearm the column of locks that ran up the wall. Beefy, close cropped beard and dreadlocks. He finished his task and his dark brown eyes found Ditto again, brimming with suspicion. "What did you forget, Ray?"

Dammit, he's not going to let up. "My communicator," Ditto said without skipping a beat.

"Then go get it and get back to work," the guard said.

Ditto's tongue armed itself to retaliate, but he didn't know the relationship between Cyborg and this dickhead. Either responding or going quiet was a risk; maybe they frequently berated each other, or maybe Cyborg took it in his stride, or maybe it was the first time the guard had the balls to say anything. This is why Ditto didn't like shapeshifting into people he didn't know. He couldn't sell the disguise if it was inspected with any level of interest.

He chose the safest option. He stared back at the guard, grunted, and walked off. Nothing came of it, so he must have guessed right.

Ditto walked down a bland, featureless hallway and came to three doors at the end. 'Storage' was on his immediate left. He took that door and found himself in a locker room. The steel cabinets lined both sides of the rectangular room, each labelled with their owner's name. Ditto strolled down the line and stopped when he located the nametag 'Ray.' A small screen sat over the door. A biometric reader, perhaps. Ditto placed his fleshy palm upon the screen and a green light blinked. A click dislodged the door and Ditto opened it.

The locker was small but tightly filled with manila folders and photos. The smell of stale protein powder washed over him as his fingers parted the documents, looking for something of note. Surely Cyborg, or Ray as it turned out, had left a clue as to where he was in the Dataverse, or how he was tracking the rogue soldier. He took out leaflets and papers one by one, quickly devouring the information and moving on to the next, finding little that pertained to his cause.

One sheet finally caught his eye. A small polaroid hung on the corner of the document by a paperclip. It was the soldier currently in lockdown on Tier 1.5. Herman. Ditto's eyes scoured the document, flipping through the pages, and couldn't believe what he read.

The captured soldier was going to be busted out of that high security prison by Cyborg.

It didn't go into the specifics of how he would accomplish it, but Cyborg was actually planning to rescue the man that Ditto could've sworn he'd shouted at and verbally abused moments before Ditto first met him. That was all for show? Impressive. Ditto wrote him off as a brainless lackey, but obviously there lurked something deeper beneath his muscular, half robotic surface.

Stranger still was that Cyborg planned to take Herman into the Dataverse to hide him from the Empire. It seemed like a risky move. Why would a member of Spook Eye's flout Empire law and steal a fugitive, and then go to the trouble of hiding him away in the digital realm, where the Empire could surely sniff him out? There must've been more to this story than met the eye.

Ditto's face went blank as the wheels finally clicked into place. No. That's too ridiculous to be true. Why would a mob boss be involved in such a thing? But it was the only thing that made a hint of sense.

Spook Eye had the rogue soldier. He had the mobile Dataverse device.

He must be planning to free the remaining soldiers of the rogue's platoon and hide them in the Dataverse with the same method he's using to hide the first. But why? To what end? If Spook Eye wanted the experiment device, why not off the soldier once he had it? Why protect the others, going so far as to break into a hidden, Empire maintained prison?

Ditto spotted a handheld communicator leaning inside the locker. There is one way to find out.

After playing with the device for a few moments, Ditto pulled up the number to connect to Cyborg in the Dataverse. Moments before he pushed the button, he changed form again, becoming Herman, using the photo and his memory to include the bruises and abrasions he sported when Ditto last met him.

Cyborg's ugly head appeared on the screen. "How'd you get this - Herman?!"

"I got out," Ditto said, pretending to be out of breath. His eyes darted around. "I need your help."

"How'd you get out?!" Cyborg said, obviously surprised. "We hadn't busted you out yet!"

Ditto shook his head furiously. "No time to explain! You gotta get me into the Dataverse! I don't have much time!"

Cyborg looked off screen, grimacing. He looked back. "We gotta be quick. Damn it! This is not a good time, Herman!"

"Sorry if my escape ruins your well laid plans, but I'm out, aren't I?" Ditto returned. "Just get back here!"

Cyborg growled in frustration. "Give me thirty minutes. Be ready!" His face suddenly vanished from the screen.

Alone again, Ditto smirked. The bait was set. Now all he had to do was wait for the pull on the line and reel in his catch.

[Jim Raynor]

Ditto walked outside, wearing Cyborg's skin in order to get past the security guard again. He remembered the stupid communicator, showing it to the dreadlocked doorman on his way out to make sure his story held together. As soon as he left the building, Ditto threw it in the gutter and crushed it with the heel of his boot.

Cyborg would be here soon. He knew where the rogue soldier was. He had to find out where he was hiding, but he doubted the mercenary would just turn over the information, even if Ditto beat it out of him. Besides, their motives for harbouring the fugitive was unclear at best. Ditto could only guess at their true goal. That left him without a bargaining chip, and he didn't like that one bit. His best chance, he mused, was to return to Herman's form, hope Cyborg couldn't tell him apart from the real deal, and then be escorted back into the Dataverse and directly to the rogue soldier. Then it was just a matter of robbing them and getting out quickly.

Easy. Right?

Ditto slinked back into the alleyway beside Spook Eye's halfway house and stepped out again in Herman's body. He dropped his back into a nearby lamppost, hands in pockets. Staring at his feet, he occasionally looked up and down the dark, quiet streets, eager for Cyborg's arrival. He spat on the grimy sidewalk. He hated not being in control.

The sky lightened as he waited. More than half an hour, it seemed.

Footsteps. Ditto glanced up. A large, well built figure stared at him from across the road. Another silhouetted man stood beside him slouched, hood drawn over his face, hands in pockets. Ditto squinted against the dirty light that hung over him. Surely the big man was Cyborg, but who was with him?

A stone dropped in his gut. Tor. He'd sold him out already. Ditto jetted air out of his nose in surprise. He didn't expect the thug to have the guts to face the music himself. When the day came, he pictured Mohawk sequestered in the deepest, darkest corner he could find until it all blew over. Instead Tor stands defiantly against him. On the side of a cannon-armed mercenary, perhaps, but still exhibiting more backbone than expected.

The two comrades crossed the street and stopped halfway. The streetlamp's light illuminated Cyborg's body and his face up to his top lip, though the rising sun provided the rest of the image. Ditto saw Cyborg's lips move and Tor leaned in closer. The hood apparently got in his eyes, since a hand pinched the loose cloth at the back and he pulled it away. The face that greeted Ditto was not Tor's.

He frowned round brown eyes at Ditto, his hair a sandy, unkempt mess. His face was hard and prickly but a certain warmth shone from him. Still staring at Ditto, he shook his head slowly. Cyborg cursed softly.

"Nice trick," Ray called out, walking closer. The sandy haired man stayed put. "I guess I should've figured you'd pull something like this."

Ditto knew his cover was blown, but how? He decided to play dumb, at least for a moment longer. He needed more time to put the pieces together. "What are you talking about? I've been waiting for you. Let's get out of here!"

Cyborg shook his head and in a flash, he bounded the remaining distance between them and seized Ditto by the throat with his cold, steel fingers. Ditto's feet dangled as he was lifted off the concrete. "I should've hunted you down after I disconnected you from the Dataverse. It would've been much less trouble than this. Now I have to make a mess out in public."

Ditto's hands curled around Cyborg's rigid steel digits. His airway shrunk, forcing his breaths into wheezing, laboured spurts. Adrenaline pumped through his blood as his body fought to stay conscious. And he still didn't know what was going on.

"So how about I try breaking open your head in the real world and see what happens?"

A powerful jolt knocked Ditto to the ground and free of Cyborg's death hold. Smashing the pavement, Ditto coughed and hacked, sucking in deep gulps of oxygen again. He spun onto his back and hopped to his feet. What just happened?

Cyborg was on hands and knees, smoke lilting from his side. Ditto scanned the neighbourhood. The sandy haired accomplice had ducked behind a car parked on the other side of the road. Why was he hiding? Craning his neck, Ditto spotted the reason. Further down the street, another car had screeched into a stop. Enigma, Tor and Skaggs stood outside the opened doors, wielding rifles the likes of which Ditto had never seen before. Thinning steam left Enigma's barrel.

"I knew you couldn't stay mad at me for long, sweetheart," Ditto said with mock affection, the true message beneath delivered by his sharp tone.

Enigma ignored Ditto and trained the futuristic weapon on Cyborg. Her voice was strained and aggressive. "Where is he, huh? Tell me where he is before we blow your brains all over the ground!" Skaggs and Tor followed suit. Skaggs stared ahead angrily. Tor gave Ditto a shy, furtive glance, then focused again on his objective.

Cyborg frowned. He climbed to his feet and brushed at his charred side. His entire forearm collapsed and rotated until the hand vanished and a cannon took its place. He aimed it squarely at Enigma. "None of your business. Our transaction's done, so you better piss off quick smart!"

"Oh no, it's definitely not over yet," Enigma said back. "Not till I leave with what I came for."

It hit him. The sandy haired guy. He was the rogue soldier. It must have been. He correctly identified Ditto as an imposter, being able to pick out his squad mate from a short inspection. Cyborg must have had his suspicions about Ditto's video call and could only prove them one way, as risky as it had to be. Perhaps taking a fake Herman to the rogue soldier's hideout was an even greater hazard.

Then what was Enigma doing here? Was she vying for the mobile Dataverse device as well? Or did she just want to throw another spanner into the works, like she'd already done several times before?

The sandy haired man stood up suddenly. Ditto hadn't noticed, but the doors and boot of the car he had hidden behind were open.

Cyborg glanced at the man. "Get back down."

Ray cared about the safety of this man. Knowing what his objective was, it could only be the rogue soldier.

Enigma's eyes widened and she redirected her rifle at the man. "No! Don't move!"

This was getting Ditto nowhere. "Enough! You morons have served your purpose. Now I have what I want and you will step down, or things will get heated." Ditto shone with white light and his body recomposed itself. When the hue faded, Ditto sported scaly orange skin, thick legs, a fire tipped tail, wide leathery wings and a savage, teeth lined maw.

The sandy haired man stepped out from the car. Body armour covered his torso and lined his arms and legs. Two assault rifles curled up in his arms, and a row of grenades hung from his belt. The hoodie and other black clothing had been discarded. Had he been hiding all of that hardware underneath all that time?

He pointed a rifle at Ditto, now Charizard, and in the general direction of Enigma and her new cronies. "So it's come to this."

Ditto growled, a deep and rumbling noise. Flames licked the back of his throat in anticipation of battle. "We all knew it would, eventually."

[Jim Raynor]

The sun had risen. Ditto didn't know why he only realised it now, and how it could've happened so fast. Or perhaps he was so focused on his objective that he blocked it out.

Ditto's eyes darted back and forth. Cyborg held out his robotic arm cannon, steadying his aim with his other hand. There was no doubt that he was exceedingly good at his profession. Indeed, Cyborg knew to sponge information from Enigma in order to set a trap and eliminate his competition. Sure, Enigma had turned on him, but Ditto suspected that Cyborg preferred it that way. Something about his demeanour suggested he had turned a hobby into a career.

A smirk crawled up Cyborg's lips. Cocky bastard.

Enigma and Skaggs stared down the sights of their rifles, built like rounded, pale blue slabs of concrete fitted with a glowing, LED magazine. Their barrels aimed at Cyborg and the soldier respectively, but Tor had overcome his shyness and levelled his weapon at Ditto. Ditto narrowed his reptilian eyes at the mohawked hothead. How much more disobedience would he endure for his connection to Spook Eye? Perhaps Tor was becoming more trouble than he was worth. There was always more than one way to snare the attention of a crime boss.

Skaggs and Enigma, though, he had already decided. Neither of them would leave here unscathed. Perhaps even alive.

Ditto gazed at the soldier. If appearances were any indicator, he wasn't someone to underestimate. Powerfully built, weapon clad and capable of hiding from the Empire without being detected, the soldier would prove to be a difficult opponent. Part of him wanted to find out more about him; after all, no one steals from a dictatorship like the Empire for no reason, nor is able to camouflage in plain sight as well as he had. What would make him risk his life for an experimental chunk of tech?

"This standoff's gotta end sometime," the soldier said, shattering the pregnant silence that hung in the air. "Well? What are you all waiting for?"

Ditto quickly calculated. "Enigma, Skaggs, Tor. So good of you to provide backup. Focus your fire on Cyborg there, and I'll handle the soldier."

Tor laughed derisively and loudly. Too forced. He was scared. "Do you actually think we're here for you?! Enigma's looking out for us, so we're looking out for her!"

As he expected. Still, it never hurt to try. "Enigma, sweetheart. You wound me. What happened to our agreement?"

"Cut the bullshit," she growled, her eyes never leaving the rogue soldier. "You knew it was an alliance of opportunity and nothing more. Now I'm in the driver's seat, and the Skullbangers will have their rightful leader installed after you're dead."

"Words are cheap," Ditto growled. "Let's see which of us can stand the heat."

Ditto opened his maw and a stream of searing fire issued from his throat. He aimed at Tor, who obviously hadn't expected the attack. He stumbled backwards, accidentally discharging his weapon, loosing a bolt of plasma into the air. As the flames reached the betrayers' vehicle, Ditto swung his head to the left, sending a streak of curling fire towards Cyborg and the rogue soldier. The soldier had taken the initiative after Tor's rifle fired, already finding cover behind the car he initially cowered behind. Cyborg moved out of range of the stretching flame and released a plasma bolt at Ditto.

With a beat of his powerful wings, Ditto reached into the air, the projectile's heat warming the underside of his feet and tail uncomfortably. As the last of his Flamethrower attack petered out, Ditto soared into the air. Bullets whizzed by but he kept climbing, hoping to become a smaller target. He circled around, dodging the whizzing energy bolts, and witnessed his three ex-gang members crowded behind their car. Occasionally peeking over the chassis, they exchanged gunfire with the soldier and Cyborg, their attacks chipping away and breaking the surrounding buildings. Ditto heard the wheezing hiss of the air spewing free from a tire.

As Ditto was deciding how he would intervene, he confirmed his theory. Cyborg was firing on the former Team Rocket members, but never did he once attack the soldier. He didn't even glance at him, as if he trusted him not to shoot him in the back.

A plasma bolt hit Ditto's left wing, flash-searing his flesh. Ditto roared. The pain tingled through his skin. The smell of burned scale and skin wafted to his nostrils as he busily flapped the injured wing, but the plasma was numbing it. Ditto flapped harder, but the wing grew less responsive, moving in lazy and ultimately useless motions. Below, Ditto heard Tor's voice ring out triumphantly.

Ditto was going down.

Stretching out his good wing, Ditto manoeuvred his injured wing into a semi-straight position with his clawed hands. It wasn't perfect, but it gave him limited control over his descent. Ditto curved to the left, his right wing open and catching the wind like a parachute. He steered himself away from the battlezone, unable to keep his mind on both the fight and his descent. Bullets screamed past regardless, but the further he travelled out, the less consistent the projectiles were.

The pavement rushed up to meet him. Throwing out his thick legs, Ditto glided a few feet off the ground shakily. People quickly parted for the orange behemoth's presence, and Ditto breathed fire at those who underestimated the danger he posed. Clenching his fangs, Ditto slammed his heels down, tearing and burning his scales, but ultimately slowing.

Ditto looked up. An intersection. A truck waited patiently at the traffic lights. He misjudged.

He ploughed into the side of the vehicle, metal and glass twisting around his body. Screams and horns blared as Ditto slammed the truck onto its side, sending it sliding across the road on a carpet of sparks. Ditto closed his eyes and tightened his muscles.

The overturned truck finally came to a stop. Ditto let out a pained breath. Blood leaked from his chest, arms and thighs from various cuts. His entire body ached from the force of the impact, and both of his wings drooped from his back like a cloak. Summoning his strength, Ditto pushed off the crumpled door frame, spotting the driver unconscious, rivulets of blood snaking down his face. He bounced off the truck and landed on his feet, bending into a crouch. His legs shook at his weight, but he stayed upright.

A line of cars backed up behind the overturned truck, horns signalling in a confusing cacophony. People nearby rushed to the driver's aid, but all kept a wide berth of the flame orange dragon that stumbled from the wreck, stained with its own blood.

Ditto tried flaring his wings again but they ignored him, dragging on the bitumen. Damn it! He was in no condition to fight now. Brute strength was out of the question. But he couldn't give up. His prize was a block away, cornered. He had to think of a way to get in there and win.

Stumbling forward, he rose his eyes to the sky. Buildings towered over them on either side of the road, but nothing stood out. Glass windows reflected the sunlight, satellite dishes sent and received signals, a giant water tower supplied the area with -

Water tower. That's it!

But Ditto couldn't get that high. His wings were disabled, and any climbing form would put too much stress on his injuries.

But ... there's someone else who could help me out here, Ditto thought. He looked around. The surrounding area buzzed with people, some gawking at the accident scene, others paramedics rushing to the injured driver's aid.

To hell with it! There was no time to duck behind a corner. What did he care if someone saw him?

Charizard's form bathed in white light and shrunk. The luminosity gave out and revealed Giovanni, though his normally immaculate suit was covered with lacerations, and blood had stained the material. Transforming, unfortunately, didn't heal any injuries Ditto had, but at least Giovanni's body required less concentration to maintain than a burly, fire breathing dragon.

Ditto crouched and put out his hand. From his palm a small, jiggling cyst grew. It expanded until it pushed against the back of Ditto's fingers, quivered a few times, then slipped off his palm like a blob of jelly. It thudded wetly on the pavement, shuddering, expanding.

"Get a move on," Ditto moaned, slumping against the building.

The blob stilled, then climbed upwards upon itself. The flesh coloured pole filled out, and limbs shaped from the shapeless mass. The pale colour around the 'torso' drowned in a sea of black, as did the 'legs' and 'arms.' The blurred features sharpened, the thick and blubbering growths shrinking and solidifying into identifiable traits.

Ditto looked up at an unblemished replica of himself.

"Ditto Junior," Ditto said. "Father is tired and can't get on top of that building. Be a dear and smash that water tower down, would you?"

The Giovanni that stared back had little in the way of intelligence in his eyes, his face blank. Ditto's ability to temporarily clone himself was a wonderful side effect of the work done by the Team Rocket scientists, although he never believed it was an intentional gift. The first time he had ever done it, he was quite surprised. The other Dittos reproduced this way, but his children never lived long. However as he experimented with the ability, he learned that the Ditto Jrs had a life span that he could dictate when it was created. He could also choose how smart they were, and what sort of personality traits they would receive. That was something the other failed clones of Mew could not do.

The Ditto Junior that had watched Team Rocket when Ditto visited the other captured soldier on Tier 1.5 had intelligence comparable to Ditto, though his ambition had strategically been removed. However the more life and talents that he imbued in his clone, the more taxing it was. This Ditto Junior only had to do something simple, so Ditto parted with what little energy he had left.

Ditto Junior nodded and white light consumed him. Upon clearing, Scyther stood in front of Ditto, its sleek scythe arms glistening in the light. The giant mantis like Pokemon vibrated its insectoid wings until they vanished in a blur. Ditto Junior lifted off the pavement and buzzed to the top of the adjacent building to the battlezone. Ditto rose to his feet and looked up. He heard the scraping of steel against a solid and unbending surface. The water tower leaned over the lip of the building, a booming creak accompanying every small movement.

Ditto power walked, his bones pulsing with each step. "Push it over!"

Another clang and the dangling water tower teetered over the edge. A groaning snap heralded the water tower's structural support disengaging and the giant cylindrical tower fell.

Ditto moaned. His body protested and he knew this was going to be unpleasant, but he began the transformation anyway.

The water tower smashed into the road. A powerful wave of water exploded from the collapsing metal in all directions, engulfing the battlezone outside the halfway house. Now that he considered it, perhaps it wasn't smart to have a gang war on Spook Eye's territory.

Ditto made it back. The five combatants were dripping wet. The ex-Team Rocket members recovered first, using the car as a support to regain their footing. Cyborg had a hand to his skull, his back to the building's wall. The rogue soldier was dashing towards the building doors, perhaps for cover, since the car he hid behind was nowhere to be seen.

It wouldn't go down that way, though. Ditto whipped his long black tail, the lightning bolt at its tip slapping the ground. He rubbed his pudgy hands together and took a deep breath. Sparks leapt from the yellow pouches on his cheeks.

"Ditto Junior, in position!" he squeaked. Looking up, he spotted the Scyther hovering high above them. "Everyone stay still. This'll only tickle for a moment."

Raichu's body brimmed with electricity, centralising in his cheeks. It was the perfect choice. Ditto had been very careful not to get wet, but just to be safe, he dug the tip of his tail into a crack in the road.

A jagged bolt of lightning exploded from Ditto, filling the air with static crackling. The electricity splashed onto the slick ground and spread through the unbroken damp that surrounded the entire area. Enigma, Skaggs and Tor convulsed on their feet, dropping their rifles. Cyborg spasmed, slouched on the wall against the halfway house. The rogue soldier in mid step growled against the current jarring his body, but he did not fall. He stilled himself, focused his eyes on Ditto, and gritted his teeth. It was as if he were hardly affected by it, yet had to bow to its power, and was simply waiting for it to end. Incredible.

Ditto cut the stream and slouched. No matter the strength of his will, his body's beating was catching up to him. If that wasn't enough, there was little more he could do.

Then he saw Skaggs getting up, and anger burned anew.

"W-what the f-fuck was that, f-freak?!" Skaggs moaned as he stood unsteadily. "H-how about you f-fight me like a m-man?"

"Ditto Junior."

Scyther dropped from the sky and landed on the car, shaking the suspension. Skaggs took several unsteady steps backwards and fell on his arse. Ditto Junior lifted a single scythed forelimb.

"Don't be fooled. It might be a natural extension, but that scythe will slice through you better than any sword."

Ditto Junior hopped off the roof and stalked towards Skaggs.

Ditto hobbled closer, wanting to see the terror in the thug's eyes before it was snuffed out completely. Raichu's body was spry when it wasn't damaged, but every step burned with fatigue and ache.

"So," Ditto said in Raichu's high pitched voice, "do you want a quick death?"

"F-fuck you," Skaggs said.

"Slow it is. Ditto Junior. Take his left arm off at the elbow. Then we'll see where my fancy takes us."

Ditto's clone swung his bladed limb down. Before it hit the target, Ditto Junior stopped mid-motion as if he had become paralysed, his eyes wide. Ditto yelled as he spotted the reason. Tor dug his knees into Scyther's back, a machete exploding out of the insect Pokemon's thorax, blood oozing around the blade.

Ditto saw red. No one killed Ditto Junior except for him! He roared in anger, but it came out in a comical, drawn out screech. The bolts of electricity that jutted from his cheeks, however, were anything but funny. Ditto drew on his rage, fed on his anger, and a terrifying beam of electricity issued from his orange mouse body. Stray forks zapped off mid-flight, striking the ground, shattering lamp posts and windows.

Tor pushed off Ditto Junior's upright corpse and scrambled onto the car roof. The electricity surge slammed into the vehicle and engulfed the screeching gangster. Ditto held the stream and felt a grand sense of satisfaction as he watched Tor's body writhe on the car roof, his skin blackening all over.

Exhaustion piped up and Ditto stopped the attack, falling to all fours. He looked up. Tor's charred arm hung over the side of the car, swaying, smoking. The stench of toasted flesh hung in the air.

"Bastard," Ditto said, crawling towards Skaggs. "You backstabbing, unfaithful, self-centered bastard!"

Ditto Junior's body was already melting, losing the green sheen of its transformation. It sat as a puddle of flesh coloured sludge for a moment before effervescently dissolving, leaving a bloodied machete as the only proof it was ever there.

Sure, Ditto Juniors were expendable. But Tor ... that filthy ingrate, he didn't earn the privilege of slaying what was essentially Ditto. At the least, his sizzling corpse was the retribution that he'd been owed for so, so long. His only connection to Spook Eye was gone, but Ditto didn't need a connection. He'd forge a new one himself.

"Skaggs ... " Ditto growled.

"G-get back!" Skaggs shouted. "The soldier ... he'll get away!"

The soldier! Ditto had forgotten all about it! He snapped his head in the direction of the halfway house. The square jawed soldier was sprawled out on the ground, fighting to sit up. A stray bolt must have hit him when Ditto fried Tor.

Ditto turned back to Skaggs. He was awkwardly jogging down the street, Tor's machete in hand. The tattooed thug didn't look back once. As much as he burned with desire to, Ditto couldn't muster the strength for another Thunderbolt. Skaggs would live for another day, it seemed.

The Pokemon quickly scoured the area with his gaze. Enigma was nowhere to be seen. Was she even still there when Ditto Junior died? That crafty bitch would be hard to put down.

That left Cyborg and the rogue soldier. Cyborg dragged himself across the pavement with his flesh arm, his robotic prosthetic hanging limply by his side. He reached the rogue soldier and put two fingers to his throat.

"Alive?" Ditto asked. He sighed loudly. The fatigue rushed at him like the waves of a storm tossed sea.

Cyborg nodded. "You ... you can't kill him."

Ditto dragged his short mouse body forward. "What's your deal? Why aren't you taking his device? I thought you were a bounty hunter."

Cyborg humphed. "Don't act dumb. You know what I'm doing."

Ditto shook his head. "I really don't. Why is a gang boss dabbling in the affairs of a fugitive? If you want what I want, why not kill the rogue and take it? Why are you protecting him?"

Cyborg stared at Ditto.

"Why?" he repeated in a screechy tone. "If the Empire discovered your involvement, Tier 5 would be awash in stormtroopers in an instant. Spook Eye would be hunted and killed. He's risking everything."

"You know the answer."

"No," Ditto shook his head, unconvinced. "No, I don't. What is it?"

Cyborg laughed, a strained and mangled sound. "There's more to this than you see. I thought you would've figured it out."

Ditto pushed himself back on his feet, swaying for a moment. He stuck his tail in the ground to help stabilise himself. There was so little left in the tank. "Then enlighten me, oh honourable bounty hunter."

Cyborg threw his arm cannon in front of him, and to Ditto's surprise, a whirring sound emanated from it. A blue light thrummed within the barrel. Ditto could see it, clear as day.

His body was spent. He wouldn't dodge this.

"Sorry. Gotta finish the job."

[Jim Raynor]

A meagre spark gritted against Raichu's cheek. Smoke sizzled from the orange pouch. Ditto couldn't muster enough strength to counterattack. He'd expended too much already, taken too much damage when he drove into the truck as Charizard. He'd die, maybe waking up in the Nexus if that Omni had spoken any sense. His intuition told him that he wouldn't, though.

Cyborg stared at the orange mouse with stern professionalism. His eyes hard and strained, lips flat. If he was finding any joy in eliminating Ditto, he was excellent at suppressing it.

"Wait!"

The blue energy welling within Cyborg's arm cannon still pulsed with heat and light, the whirring high and unending, but it no longer grew. Cyborg shot a glance to the source of the sound, as did Ditto.

The rogue soldier rose himself onto an elbow, his skin dirtied and wet. His other hand was outstretched towards Cyborg, fingers splayed. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling as he collected enough oxygen for another sentence.

"Don't ... don't kill him."

"What?" Cyborg barked. "He tried to kill you! I'm not going to let him live!"

The rogue soldier's smiling eyes fell on Ditto. "You ... you don't know what we're ... doing, do you?"

Ditto's black eyes shrunk beneath his brow. "I don't really care."

The soldier laughed weakly. "You can't fool me. I can see ... you're the type of guy who likes to ... know everything."

Ditto thrashed his tail against the concrete with a spur of energy that rode on his frustration. "So what? You want to spill your guts before you kill me? Want to stroke your precious pride?"

"How much have you figured out?" the soldier said, ignoring Ditto's outburst.

Ditto snarled. "What does it matter?"

"Tell me."

His beady eyes looked away. "You were a soldier in the employ of the Empire. You were involved with their R&D division or some such, working on experimental technology. You ran off with a valuable item; a device capable of inserting anyone into the Dataverse from any location without the requirements of an uplink station." Ditto returned his gaze. "It's the reason I've been hunting you."

Cyborg turned his head between Ditto and the soldier, lips parting enough to see his clenched teeth.

"To turn me in?" the soldier asked. "Or do you want the tech I stole?"

Ditto's eye flinched. He didn't like talking so openly about his plans. Unfortunately, he wasn't in the driver's seat in this situation. Plus, if he stalled long enough, maybe he could congeal a plan together from the corners of his weary mind. "I have no intention of assisting the Empire, if you must know. I assumed Ray there was another bounty hunter, but it turns out he was your personal bodyguard all along."

Cyborg humphed.

"So you don't know why he's been helping me?" the soldier asked.

"No."

"Have you ever heard of the Copper Eye?"

Ditto ran a fuzzy paw over his eyes. The fatigue was getting to him. "Should I have?"

"Perhaps not," the rogue soldier said. "They were a 'terrorist' group, or so the Empire would have you believe. In truth, they were simply civilians tired of being ignored and mistreated by the very government that should've been there for them. When they rebelled against their oppression, they were systematically hunted by a volunteer force and executed."

"Let me guess. You're part of the Copper Eye."

The rogue soldier shook his head. "No. But they weren't all wiped out. I always felt like the Empire's response was too heavy handed. The remnants of the Copper Eye reached out to me. With my connections and the tech I had, I knew I could help them. So after I stole the device, I started ferrying them into the Dataverse physically. Because of this device, we never had to fear being caught; we could enter anywhere, anytime."

"A good samaritan," Ditto remarked. "Warms the heart."

"Then Spook Eye, as you know him, offered to apply another layer of security; digitally encoding our bodies once physically inside. We could become anyone, look like anything. We were shapeshifters in that world. Like you." The soldier paused to take a deep breath and reposition himself on his elbow. "We were hidden both from sight and from any sort of scans or hacking the Empire could throw at us."

"It's becoming clear," Ditto said. "You were sympathetic to the rebel's plight and risked everything to help them. But you-" Ditto pointed a pudgy paw at Cyborg, "-why did your boss assist wanton criminals?"

"Still not obvious, huh?" Cyborg said, humming arm cannon still trained on Ditto. "Spook Eye doesn't want the Empire getting involved in his business. They're already getting too nosy. If there's a well resourced, virtually indestructible militia waging war with Palpatine, they'll have to expend more effort on hunting them. They'll take the focus off Spook Eye."

"Interesting," Ditto said. "But I can see through your ruse. You're trying to make me step down, aren't you? You're trying to make me see that letting this bounty go would actually be beneficial to me, since I could also take advantage of the distracted Empire for my own gains." Ditto frowned, though some of the edge was taken off by Raichu's cuddly face. "I didn't just go through all of that time, trouble and pain to simply turn about face and meander back from whence I came. Now that the quest is almost over, I refuse to stand down."

Cyborg shifted his arm cannon. "You're not in the position to be making that decision."

The soldier chuckled, his chest vibrating. "I didn't delay your death so I could explain the situation to you. I'm offering it up to you."

Ditto blinked. "The device?"

"Yes. On the condition that once I do, you leave Cyborg and I, and that you never again meddle in the affairs of the Copper Eye."

Cyborg looked stunned. "Surely you can't be serious! He's a threat and we have him where we want him!"

Ditto narrowed his eyes. A truce, or an elaborate plot to finish me off another way? There was no significant reason he could summon that would explain why the rogue soldier would let him go only to kill him later. If they were worried about Team Rocket, which they likely knew nothing about, it would simply disband in Ditto's absence, or reform under Diesel's leadership once more. As much as he hated to admit it, his gang didn't provide Spook Eye with much of a threat.

"Then how will you save your compatriots without the device?" Ditto said. "It's the entire reason you're a fugitive."

"What kind of thorn in the Empire's side would we be if we relied on a single device?" the rogue soldier said, hauling himself into a bent sitting position. "I've been gone for some time. We have duplicates."

Ditto looked into the molten blue energy thrumming inside Cyborg's arm cannon. "There must be strings attached."

"There is. Leave the Copper Eye alone, forever. That's it. If you break your promise, I will be forced to hunt you myself."

It was too good to be true. But what choice did he have?

"Put your weapon down, Ray," the soldier said, motioning with his hand. "Come here, Ditto."

Ditto plodded over to the downed soldier, caution reinvigorating his drained and aching body. He attempted to grind sparks from his cheeks, but it was useless. He was a puppet to them.

"Here." The soldier held out a hand held device, sleek and black. Its front face was covered in glass, and a lens glinted at the top centre of the device. "You just push this button here," he said, running his thumb over a concave indentation at the base of the device, "and stare into the camera. It takes a while, but it will absorb you into the Dataverse physically. Anything else in the view of the camera within a small radius will also come with you. As will the device."

Ditto took his prize gingerly in his paws. It was so light.

He shuffled backwards. Cyborg had lowered his arm cannon, the blue glow slowly fizzling out, but his furious glare stayed on him. "You better keep your word."

Ditto hugged the device to his chest and turned around. He stayed silent for a time while he tried to gather the words. "Best of luck against the Empire. You'll need it."

He ran off down the street, not even glancing over his shoulder once.