Stepping into the 'cage' had seemed perfectly logical at the time. The subject should have been fitted with inhibitors, that should have been active and blocking any of its abilities. So when the urge came to strip off your labcoat and slip into the glass-fronted room you didn't question it. It couldn't have been the subject, after all.

And when you noticed that the inhibitors were either inert or just flat out missing, that was okay as well. You knew there was no reason for alarm, not even when the subject lifted you in an invisible grip and the doors came slamming shut. It wasn't until you were neatly curled up, wet and sticky and incredibly hot, that the psychic tendrils withdrew and left you to your own devices.

Something hard pressed against you from the outside, flat and wide, forcing you back against the spine of the subject and making your face press, uncomfortably hard, into the slick walls. It took you a moment, but now, a few seconds later with your mind clear, you realise what it is. The glass viewing screen. It's pressing its belly - pressing you - up against it, letting the others see your form, squirming inside of it. You know they can't save you now, that any attempt at rescue will just lead to more grisly fates, but you can't help yourself. Your screams for help are muffled by the flesh around your mouth but you scream regardless, and they can see it all...

All good Mewtwo backstories ought to involve a lab and a horrifying breakout, don't you think? :p

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