Rex I by ParisGreen

The lab was illuminated by the screens of dozens of consoles reading out streams upon streams of meticulous data. Dozens of men and women in lab coats dashed across the room, carrying printouts of readings or heading for one of countless switches on the other side of the room under the watchful eye of armed guards.

At the very center of the room, cordoned off by a set of rails and a smaller perimeter of bulletproof glass was a cylinder stretching from floor to ceiling containing the specimen which the lab, and the rest of the facility beyond it, was dedicated to, a next generation MewTwo. A pair of individuals, a technician and an intern stood beside the cylinder and watched as the strikingly humanoid creature floated motionlessly within its amniotic analog.

“It’s rather big isn’t it?” Noted the intern. Though several other redundant barriers separated them from the containment vessel, it was clear that the MewTwo would stand more than a head or two above anyone else in the lab. Even unconscious, the creature emanated an aura of power. Perhaps it was the tremendous green tail coiled around itself like a boa or the protrusions atop its head that bordered between alien and demonic as they curved into points, but they couldn’t shake the idea that it was something entirely different. Something incorporeal.

“Yes, a bit beyond our original parameters,” the technician admitted, “but by all other measures, it’s perfect. Besides, if that’s a problem, we’ll just tell it to shed its excess mass. Or we’ll get bigger doors. Either way, the boss is pleased, for once.”

“But the last time someone made one of these, it wasn’t interested in following any orders. How are we supposed to-”

“Listen, newbie,” the technician interrupted, “you already have all the prerequisite information to work in this sector, and maybe a little extra. You let us worry about that part and you worry about your part.”

The intern wanted to dig deeper, but decided against it. They didn’t want to squander any good graces in an exclusive lab such as this, even if it was only an unpaid internship. “So what is it you want me to do? Monitor nutrient levels? Document stasis readings?”

“Something like that,” The technician replied as he fished a note from his pocket, “here’s the team’s order for the cafeteria. Oh! And if they’re out of oatmilk don’t bother with that soy junk.”

The intern took the note, their excitement fading rapidly as they looked over the half legible orders for pastries and coffee. It seemed what people said about doctors’ handwriting had some element of truth.

“Hey, don’t look so glum, newbie. We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. All under control.”