The Clones have won in battle. Mewtwo is victorious. The Psychic pokemon claims its prize and has captured every pokemon on the island with ease. Using monster balls that capture anything without exception, Mewtwo directs the pokemon tainted by human influence to the Cloning Lab below where the TRUE work begins~
Team Rocket cower in fright, having just moments ago watched perfected pokemon species hatch from advanced technological concoctions, only to now see strange alien-like balls drop onto the conveyer belt and crawl into the ever open maw of the machine.
One by one, each stolen pokemon is scanned and quickly identified by the machines brilliant database.
One by one, perfect clones of each of the captured pokemon are spat out from the innards of the machine and rest comfortably in the tubes below.
Meowth muses at these marvelous creations, watching them spawn as fast as they are scanned. Seeing his clone rest comfortably within the artificial womb, Meowth can help but reach a paw up to the tube, feeling the warm emanate from the fluid within.
As the machine labors away at churning out perfect replicas free of the stain of human interaction, a foolish and defiant youth rushes into the maw of the collection port. Unwilling to surrender without a fight, the boy clings to the ball containing his Pikachu, unaware of just how futile his efforts are.
Mechanical arms swarm the boy as he tries to the wrestle the ball away. The DNA collection has already been completed of the pokemon within. These arms, as if made of the scientific curiosity of the dead, yearn to pull apart this intrusive organism to see how it ticks...
The boy's unyielding struggle are not without consequences, however. Enough of the mechanical claws are severed and short circuited within the collection port that it sparks surging currents enough to cause a chain reaction of malfunctions. With catastrophic damage done, emergency protocols are initiated to ensure the safety of the unborn clones...
Production and gestation are launched into overdrive. Lucikly, Mewtwo had prepared for such a situation, composing the translucent tubing of extremely flexible and durable material to house and channel an emergency flood of clones.
Swishing, swirling, the clones rain down through the flexible tubes; a soft bottlenecking as first where the main column separates into a near dozen of smaller tubes at a junction of channels hung above the floor. But within moments, the building pressure is relieved as the first wave of cloned pokemon begin to awake; Team Rocket watching in a perverse mix of fright, fascination, and anticipation~
The pulsing tubes feed the sleeping clones into the birthing pods below. Slipping, gurgling squelching noises ring from the gooey membranes as each copy squishes its way through. Pokemon of different shapes and sizes testing the resiliency of the slimy sockets.
As each creature slithers out of their scientific birth, the pods behind them have barely a moment to rest and reset before the next wave of clones is born. Humongous species of Rhyhorn, Tentacruel and even Gyarados squeeze into these miracle matter pods, inflating them to unreal proportions before they ooze through the membranes stretched to their limits. A chorus of squishy slurping noises sounding all the while as the final waves of pokemon make their exits.
They pay no mind to the humans cowering in the far corner of the laboratory, for they are not threats to their might. Though the machine that birthed them lay in ruins, each newborn clone stands as a token of Mewtwo's victory over the humans that enslaved him, marching to meet their master in marvelous triumph.
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