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good-chimes · 1 year

Text

THE H.T.G.Y. FILES

Project team notes: Vat growth stage has been successful. Please note project is titled Human Tactical Ground-unit Y (H.T.G.Y.) and this is the only designation that should be used. Lab technicians who continue to use slang term hotguy will be written up.

Senior researcher CUB-135 has been called in to consult. Please give him access to all non-sensitive files.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Well, hello there!

CUB-135: Hi. How’s it, uh. How’s it going?

HTGY: How’s it going? Huh, that’s the first time someone’s asked me that. Wait a minute. I know that one. How’s it going. Oh, oh, I got it. It’s going great!

CUB-135: …Cool.

HTGY: Yeah. Yeah. Isn’t it great to be alive and awake? How’s it treating you?

CUB-135: It’s magnificent.

HTGY: [laughing] Magnificent. Oh, I like that. Who are you, my friend?

CUB-135: I’m a consultant. Cub-one-three-five. The project team dragged me in because I wrote the genome.

HTGY: Consultant…. So you’re the one who does their thinking for them, huh?

CUB-135: [surprised laugh] Yeah.

HTGY: Well, I’m telling you, they need it. Buncha people prodding me to see if I can stand up! You can just ask that, can’t you? A man’s gotta have space, Cub. A man’s gotta do things under his own steam.

CUB-135: Yeah, I guess. Yeah.

HTGY: [conspiratorial] Here’s a question. Got a lot of things in my head, Cub. The ol’ memory’s all messed up. I’m new, right?

CUB-135: You’re new. That’s right.

HTGY: I thought so! How new?

CUB-135: Uhh… three days? Three days and two hours.

HTGY: Thank you! Finally. Can’t get a straight answer out of anyone here.

CUB-135: …you want your genome notes?

HTGY: Boy, do I! What’s a genome?

CUB-135: Uh. Okay. Let’s see what we can do. I need some files. A lotta files.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Oh, we have to stop.

CUB-135: Yeah?

HTGY: That noise means I gotta be somewhere.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Just more prodding and check-ups, I guess. Can’t take long. Come back, okay? I'll be here, at least I guess I'll be here. I've been here all the time so far. Tomorrow?

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Alright. Tomorrow.

DEATH COUNT: 1

Project team notes: First trial (subject vs two skeletons obtained from Lab 2E spawner) did not meet expectations. Subject (H.T.G.Y.) is slow to grasp the basics of hand-to-hand combat despite neural implants. Speed below benchmark. Precision poor. Regeneration not fast enough to alter outcome of combat.

Although a disappointing start to the project, there are promising leads in some areas. Combat abilities expected to improve through repetition. Deficiencies in combat conversely allow better collection of regeneration data.

Subject observation: when returned to room, subject spent six hours seated and unmoving. Scheduling next test for tomorrow.

[CUB-135 OBSERVATIONS]

note to self, find a way to phrase: ‘he was a project for faster injury regeneration, you fucking amateurs, nothing in that genome makes him magically good at fighting’ in a way that doesn’t include the phrase ‘you fucking amateurs’. difficult problem.

going back in. this one will be less fun.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, it’s Mister Does-The-Thinking! Cub, hey, Cub!

CUB-135: Hey.

HTGY: You’re looking serious today. What’s up?

CUB-135: I’m good. I’m good.

HTGY: That’s what I like to hear. Can’t have the big-brain guy down in the dumps.

CUB-135: How was yesterday?

HTGY: Ohhh. Yesterday, Cub, yesterday. I don’t think I’m that good at fighting. There were a lot of very unhelpful skeletons, Cub. A lot of them! Really mean! I think it’s going to be regular. I am not looking forward to that.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Any chance you can make it, y’know. Fewer monsters? They hurt.

CUB-135: Sorry, man. I don’t set the tests.

HTGY: Naw, I didn’t think so. You don’t look like a guy in charge.

CUB-135: Is that right?

HTGY: You’re just, you know [hand gesture] … laid back. I like that about you.

CUB-135: Uh.

HTGY: So. Cub. Cub, Cub, Cub.

CUB-135: …yeah?

HTGY: I’ve got this thing in my head. The sky.

CUB-135: The sky? Like… all of it?

HTGY: I dunno! You people put some pictures in my memories when you made me, I think. Horizons, clouds—I know they’re made of water, but how does that work? I saw a bit during the fight and it was kind of grey? Talk me through clouds, Cub. You’re good at explaining. And the rest of it! Where does it stop? What’s above it?

CUB-135: Oh, dude. Let me tell you… let me tell you about space.

To: +Team_Members_HTGY_Project

From: CUB-135

Y’all,

I looked at your trial notes. Project lead asked for my thoughts. My thoughts:

- inefficient; - could get the same regeneration data from tissue samples; - waste of skeletons.

You want to find another way. The combat unit thing was doomed from the start. If you want a supersoldier you should start over with a ravager.

have a real one,

Cub

Project team notes: One-month project milestone. Consultancy from CUB-135 has started to be more of a problem than an asset. Unfortunately he is the only one who understands how to process the regeneration data so assistance remains necessary for now. Upskilling of team analysts in progress.

Test continue. H.T.G.Y. has been given a variety of weapons and results range from abysmal (sword) to mediocre (bow). Subject has so far lost to every creature put in front of him. If the combat goals of this project are to be met, a better training regime will be needed.

On a separate note: great interest from sponsors in mid-combat regeneration data. A variety of tests has been requested.

New data storage links: EXPLOSION (creeper) – File CR93; FIRE BURN (wood) – File FR02; FIRE BURN (other) – File FR03; BLOOD LOSS – File IN20; VENOM – File VM07, UNCATEGORIZED – UN45-UN51.

DEATH COUNT: 23

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: You know what the problem is?

CUB-135: I can guess?

HTGY: I’m so bored.

CUB-135: Okay. Didn’t see that coming.

HTGY: I’m so bored. Honestly, I’m bored most of the time. Except when I’m getting killed, which isn’t great either. Or when you’re here—you know I appreciate you, Cub, you’re a great guy, don’t get me wrong. But you’re only around every couple of days, and it’s the bits in between.

CUB-135: Mm.

HTGY: Can’t you clone yourself, or something, and leave one here?

CUB-135: Nah, outside my specialism. Hm. You talked to Mumbo much? Mumbo’s always around.

HTGY: The lab system?

[null]: Hello. Can I answer a query?

HTGY: Oh, hi, Mumbo. Yeah, I’ve talked to Mumbo. But let’s be honest, he’s not much of one to start conversations. I can never think of things to ask.

[null]: What I can communicate to subjects on this level has been restricted by administrators.

HTGY: See?

CUB-135: Get him to show you… I dunno. Cat videos. Space stuff. Forests. They won’t have locked that down.

HTGY: Forests. Yeah! Okay. Mumbo?

[null]: I’m allowed to show pictures of forests. How’s this?

HTGY: Look at that. So green. So many trees! How close is that picture from here?

CUB-135: Kinda nearby, I think. Looks like a research shot from where they caught the spiders. Lots of the wild subjects in here came from close by.

HTGY: Amazing. Hey, Cub, can you get them to take me to a forest? Tree training! Beat the spiders in their own home!

CUB-135: Why not? I’ll ask.

HTGY: They’ll say no. But it’s good to think of it out there.

Project team notes: Six-month project milestone. Useful data continues to accumulate. HTGY has improved with bow and crossbow, and survival rate has risen to one in ten encounters.

Unfortunately, a new issue has arisen in subject cooperation. Most tests are set up to incentivize survival, making attitude irrelevant. However non-lethal tests require participation, which has previously been forthcoming from the subject, until yesterday when he refused to participate at all.

CUB-135 seems to have a rapport. Suggest he talks with subject to encourage better attitude. This would be the first useful thing CUB-135 has done in weeks.

DEATH COUNT: 97

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. What’s up.

HTGY: Oh. Hey.

CUB-135: Not feeling it today?

HTGY: I knew it. I know why you’re here. I know why they sent you to talk to me.

CUB-135: Try me.

HTGY: It was a cat, Cub. I’ll take the fights. I’ll take the training machines, they break half the time anyway. I’ll take the spiders and the skeletons and the creepers and the fact I know way too much about what my bones look like. But I’m not shooting a cat! I don’t care if it’s safe target practice. I’m not doing it!

CUB-135: Yeah. Okay.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: So what do you wanna talk about today?

HTGY: You’re not gonna try and convince me?

CUB-135: Naw.

HTGY: Cub, I’m not shooting anything that’s not trying to kill me.

CUB-135: Yeah, I know.

HTGY: You know?

CUB-135: I read your test notes. I can guess.

HTGY: Aw, you read my test notes? You care! Don’t pretend you don’t, I can see through it.

CUB-135: What can I say. You’re an interesting guy.

HTGY: I knew it! Oh, hey, Cub, you know what? I came up with a new name for myself. What do you think—[dramatic hand gesture]—Scar.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Cool, right?

CUB-135: Scar. Yeah. It’s cool.

Project team notes: CUB-135 entirely unhelpful. Schedule escalation meeting with bioprojects lead.

[message log start]

Lead (bioprojects): Well, you got what you originally wanted. You’re off the HTGY project.

cub-135: wait, what?

Lead (bioprojects): You’re no longer permitted in the labs on that level. I need you to turn in your badge for reprogramming.

cub-135: oh man

cub-135: here’s the thing

cub-135: i lost it

Lead (bioprojects): You lost your BADGE?

cub-135: yeah i’ve just been following people through the access doors

Lead (bioprojects): That’s against all policy. I don’t think that’s even possible. How do you get lunch?

cub-135: cheat code on the cash register. up up down down A B.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re not funny. Find your badge and turn it in to get your HTGY level access revoked.

cub-135: oh yeah. i’ll get to that.

Lead (bioprojects): You’re lucky you’re good at your job.

cub-135: just trying my best here, man

Lead (bioprojects): No interference. If the team complain to me about you again, you’re getting demoted to junior lab tech. Leave the project alone.

cub-135: sure boss.

cub-135: you got it.

[Lead(bioprojects) has disconnected]

Project Team Notes: Eight-month project milestone. Sponsors pleased with regeneration data. Two papers have been published to modest but positive reception.

After period of progress with HTGY’s survival rates in combat, improvement has levelled off. Subject appears to have less energy for reasons that are unclear. Random observational checks found subject watching cat videos at all hours of the day. Changes in diet and test structure have been tested to no effect. Rest time has been experimentally increased.

DEATH COUNT: 167

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: Hey, Cub! Long time no see!

Cub: Yeah, sorry, man. Some admin bullshit.

HTGY: Your badge looks different.

Cub: Made it myself. How’s the tests?

HTGY: Oh, let’s not talk about those. You know what, I actually decided I’m not going to remember something if it’s not worth it. All the fights are the same and they keep doing them. So! I’ve been thinking. Cub. Cub. I want a cat. Can I get a cat?

Cub: …

HTGY: Just a little one. I’ve seen some options. Mumbo has pictures.

Cub: Dunno, dude. I can try. Might be tricky.

HTGY: [sigh] I guess you’re right. It…wouldn’t be happy, would it? Yeah. We can’t have that.

CUB: Sorry.

HTGY: No, no, it’s all right. I don’t want to make something unhappy. It was just a thought.

CUB-135: What’s on the screen?

HTGY: [brightens up] Oh, this? Dude, I wanted to show you this! Mumbo has this drawing program where you can build houses. This is my idea for a forest house. I think you could do it with three kinds of wood and you could have, you know, all these trees over it. What do you think? I mean, I know we’ll never see a forest. But imagine it in your mind.

CUB: … You know what, my friend, you’re really something.

HTGY: Why thank you. You could say the same of yourself—come on, Cub, don’t be shy. Take the compliment!

CUB-135: I don’t—

[silence]

HTGY: Don’t what?

CUB-135: [abruptly] I dunno how much more I can take.

HTGY: …

CUB-135: I—what am I even doing? What are we doing? There’s nothing to change. There’s no way to change anything.

HTGY: … You could get me a cat.

CUB-135: I can’t! I can barely get around the access readers! I can’t even get into the project files! Ten years of research and I feel dumb, Scar, I could solve everything until I couldn’t. What would you do if you weren’t in here? Man, that’s such a stupid question. I don’t even know what I’d do if I wasn’t in here. My references are gonna be shot. Maybe I should have paid attention to something else, maybe I should have done anything else—

HTGY: I’d like to see some forests.

CUB-135: Huh?

HTGY: You said ‘what would I do’. I’d go and see some forests.

CUB-135: …

CUB-135: Forests, huh.

HTGY: Anyway, that’s not going to happen, so I guess we don’t want to waste time on it! They need you here. And you guys need me here. Right?

CUB-135: …

HTGY: Right, Cub-one-three-five?

CUB-135: Y’know something, Scar? Sometimes I think you do more thinking more than you let on.

HTGY: Huh? Naw. Why’s your badge gone red?

CUB-135: Oh shit. Shit. I gotta go.

[message log start]

cub-135: listen boss

cub-135: first you bump me off the HTGY project, and now i’ve just had my name taken off the ravager patent. that’s my own work.

cub-135: this keeps happening. it’s not okay.

Lead (bioprojects) : CUB-135, for the last time, this was what you signed up for. It’s the same for all researchers. You have to put the time in while you move up the ladder.

Lead (bioprojects): Have you just noticed this is how the whole laboratory works?

cub-135: oh

cub-135: i’m noticing

cub-135: i’m noticing lots of things about this place

Lead (bioprojects): Good. If you have an issue, focus on your work and get promoted.

cub-135: yeah, see, actually

cub-135: if nothing changes, i’m going to leave. and i’ll take all my intellectual property with me.

Lead (bioprojects): Hah! Check your employment papers; you’re on a 10-year contract. It’s watertight. And even if you could get out of it, you’re banned from taking paper or data chips out of lab grounds.

cub-135: yeah?

cub-135: okay.

[cub-135 has disconnected]

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

CUB-135: Hey. Scar. Scar.

HTGY: Cub! What’s with the doohickey? It—oh, wow. That just zapped the light. Amazing.

CUB-135: Mumbo, lock transcript.

[null]: Transcript locked.

CUB-135: Okay. So. I made this thing to hijack the redstone gate down by the Drowned spawners on Lab 3B. It screws up the signal so you can get through. There’s a reservoir behind it. I put in a bubble elevator that will take you up outside the walls. I’ve got to stay behind to take out the cameras while you do it. Then I’ll get out with the evening shift.

HTGY: Wait, so I just take this and run? What if they find out about you?

CUB-135: If you do that I’m screwed, man. So don’t tell them.

HTGY: Yeah?

CUB-135: …Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You could turn me in.

[silence]

CUB-135: Maybe you should. Yeah, all right. I guess, just—oh.

HTGY: Relax! Anyone would think you’d never had a hug.

CUB-135: …

HTGY: My friend. My friend, we are going to see some forests.

[AUDIO TRANSCRIPT]

HTGY: The speed! The precision!

CUB-135: Whew. Man. You did nearly drown.

HTGY: What’s important here is that I didn’t, because I am an elite escape artist. And you got out too, so I guess we can share the title.

CUB-135: We’re not far enough to say that yet. I’d bet we’re still in range of the lab systems.

HTGY: Details, details.

CUB-135: You’re bleeding.

HTGY: Oh man, I know, that was from the last test. It doesn’t matter.

CUB-135: Give me that.

HTGY: Fussy! What are you, a grandpa? Ow.

CUB-135: If you don’t stop and let me fix it you’re going to lose that finger. And I can’t grow it again when we don’t have the redstone vats.

HTGY: You were never this fussy before.

CUB-135: Yeah, well. Who even did it?

HTGY: I don’t…

[silence]

HTGY: Huh. Cub, you know what, I don’t…remember.

HTGY: Hey, though. Who everything filed and stored like a nerd? Who needs all their memories where we’re going? We’re getting out! Onwards!

[silence]

HTGY: Cub. Cub.

HTGY: Don’t look like that.

HTGY: It wasn’t your fault.

[silence]

CUB-135: Scar, I dunno what I’m doing.

HTGY: I’ve never known what I’m doing.

CUB-135: [laughs] You are…something, my friend. You are something.

HTGY: We don’t know what we're doing. And that’s amazing. Because aren’t you excited to find out?

Author's note: Hey, thanks for reading to the end! There's a better formatted version of this on Ao3 under username glossyblue. I've got a lot of this au but thought this stood alone well enough that someone might enjoy it. Hope you enjoyed, have a great day.

#convex #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #lab escape au #fic #glossywrites

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carrotkicks · 11 months

Text

*toxics his relationships*

#doodles #doodle #analog horror au #listen im just unreasonably obsessed with the plot bunny of chuuya not actually escaping the lab #somehow coming to genuinely see N as his father #even though he's just being abused and manipulated all the time #and eventually gets rescued from that place much much later in life #who's gonna write the 'chuuya stays with the lab' storyline????

361 notes · View notes

cryptidsofwakemoor · 8 months

Text

Chapter 2 - Burger Burglar

After escaping the lab, Matchstick runs into a new challenge: trying to find enough food to sustain his furnace of a stomach.

~*~

Mystic

...

...…

Something was tickling his face. It was persistent, and poking through the muddy dreams he'd been wafting on.

Oof. And that pain in his gut had come back, mildly nagging at his insides. What was that? It wouldn't go away, either.

Fluttering his eyes open, he was greeted by the sight of the earthy den he'd fallen asleep in. Sunlight was starting to trickle down through the entrance, teasing at his cheek.

Or- maybe that was the red and black bug he saw, poking up at the edge of his vision. It was small and round, and shiny in the morning light.

Spooky

...Buh.

Had he fallen asleep...?

And- damn it, what the fuck was touching his face? He blinked, and caught the movement of the small creature out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he breathed in a dry gasp and brushed it off, scooting his butt away from where he'd been seated. Shit, what the fuck was that thing?! He couldn't see it now, because it had gone flying somewhere, so he was left sitting still for a few moments with a feeling of unease.

Grrrghghlllll...

...And what the fuck was THAT? The sunlight shining in through the entrance lit the burrow just barely enough that he could see nothing else was in here with him, save for whatever that tiny thing was, but he was pretty sure that thing couldn't growl like that...

He waited and listened carefully until he heard it again, a low gurgling growl coming from- from... himself??

The fuck?

Was he dying or something? He felt like shit... His stomach especially, and now it was making worrying sounds... This hole in the ground was safe, but that wasn't gonna do him any good if he fucking died in it!

His mind raced as he tried to think of something he could do about this. His stomach had felt like this the night before, too, but it did seem at least a little less pressing before he'd slept... His thoughts wandered back to him eating those loaves of bread, it seemed to have helped a bit... In fact, he kinda wished he'd grabbed some when he escaped, but he hadn't thought to do that at the time...

His glowing tongue slid out and licked at his dry lips. Yeah... He wished he had more... But damn it, that human was gonna chase him if he went back for the rest of it.

His eyes slowly wandered back towards the light filtering in through the entrance. There had to have been more food out there, right...?

He found himself torn, not wanting to leave and expose himself to danger again, but there was also nothing in here to help distract him from the nagging feeling in his stomach... He huffed out a breath, and reluctantly began his crawl back up to the surface. He poked his head up from the soil, squinting at his surroundings as his eyes had to readjust to the light. The coast seemed clear enough...

Okay. If he could find some food close enough, he could just come back here whenever he needed to hide again. Maybe that'd work...

Mystic

...It didn't take long before something that smelled delicious tempted at his senses. What was that heavenly aroma? Mmm... he didn't have the adjectives to describe it, and it made his stomach complain worse than ever.

It was definitely harder to keep hidden in the daylight. He was very acutely aware of the fact that he had no camouflage, now that the cover of night was gone. Whatever the scientists had done to him to give him this lava blood and charcoal flesh, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Don't be seen. Don't get caught.

Getting to the edge of the treeline again was easy. Figuring out where the smell came from, even easier- he could see an establishment not too far away that had some sort of fire box visible through a window, with patties and slices of red and brown material sizzling away. The rich smell had to be coming from that.

But actually getting over to it... that wouldn't be so simple. It was across one of those strips of black ground, where metal boxes with lights had zipped along and almost hit him. Those had to be vehicles of some sort, right? He'd overheard conversations among the scientists talking about something called 'trucks', used to move things around. Including him, on rare occasions.

Stomach growled again, demanding.

Spooky

He swallowed, staring at that building with an intensity that felt like it should've been able to bore holes through it, had that been one of his abilities.

It had given him such tunnel vision that it was only after he started to step out from behind the tree that he noticed how busy it was around the building. A 'truck' rolled past, breaking his line of sight, and he noticed some people walking around and talking to each other- some human and some not. There were more 'trucks' too, some sitting still and others moving around. His breath hissed through his teeth at the close call, and he ducked back behind the tree before any of them could see him.

Shit.

How the fuck was he supposed to get over there?!

And... thinkin' about it, there were probably more people in the building too. Even if there were no people outside, he couldn't just walk in... His previously hopeful expression soured in jealousy as he saw people walking out with food in their hands. Like it was so fucking easy.

The worst part was knowing he was strong enough that he could just as easily take it from them, but that would draw way too much attention. And apparently, going off what happened the night before, there were guards out here, too...

...About that, though... If he couldn't walk in through the front of the building, what if there were more of those food boxes out back behind it...? If he ran as fast as he could, maybe he could make it behind there before anyone could get a good look at him.

Fuck it, worth a shot.

Waiting for another 'truck' to pass, he crouched low and sprinted across, ducking into the shadows behind the building. Aw, fuck... There weren't any big boxes, just some metal cans... Nobody else back here though, at least...

Since he had the chance, he decided to see if there was at least something in the cans, so he pried the lid off one of them and tore open the bag inside. It wasn't food, just various crumpled paper-like materials tumbling out, although some were soaked in grease, or some kind of yellow and red stuff. It certainly didn't smell as good as whatever was in the building...

Though given the insistence of his stomach, he was still tempted to see if these could be eaten...

Mystic

Hm... they had something similar in smell to what was coming through that front door. Not quite the same, but close.

Maybe...

Grabbing one of the waxy papers and inserting it into his mouth didn't yield the best results. Some of that savory smell was on the paper in the form of taste, but... above all, he was tasting the waxy outer coating on the paper, which melted in his iron-hot mouth. Ugh, it was gumming up his teeth! Didn't feel very good to swallow, either- he had to cough out a small cloud of smoky embers, as the paper went down as dry ash. Not very appetizing, in the end.

click-click

Shit-

He had to duck back into hiding to avoid being seen, as a door on the side of the establishment opened outwards.

Another daytime stranger in a stained white apron- not a lab coat, thank god- stepped out into the alleyway. Some sort of tall bug-like person? In their clawlike arms they had a plastic bag, similar to the ones found in the box last night. They stopped at the trash can, with the lid still dropped to the ground. Scratching at their head, the bug person grumbles and kneels down to pick it up.

"Damn raccoons," they grumble, holding the lid aside as they drop the bag inside. Once the lid is replaced on top, they take some sort of tethers from their pocket, and strap the lid down to the trash can with the camping rope. Dusting their hands, they go back inside, shutting the door with a click.

Spooky

They kept saying that word. The hell was a 'raccoon'?

Despite the first thing he tried in that can not being the most appetizing thing he'd ever put in his mouth, he still felt a sinking feeling as he watched the stranger tie the top down. Damn it... So much for trying anything else in there.

His eyes followed the strange man back to the door, which closed. He waited for a bit before coming back out, half tempted to try and go in there too despite the danger. Maybe if he was quiet, or fast enough, he could slip in and grab something, then slip back out...

He tentatively reached out and grabbed the handle he'd seen moving on the door, and tried to slowly turn it, but it wouldn't budge. Hm. Maybe he needed to turn it a little harder…

He kept trying to turn it until the lock busted with a loud enough POP that he backed off with a grimace, knowing someone probably heard that and walking in would be a mistake. Unfortunately, with the lock part broken, the door slowly swung open anyway. There was one guy who didn't seem to notice him at all- he had some weird device over his ears and was making humming sounds as he scrubbed some metal thing next to some running water. There was one other guy though- the bug guy from before was standing next to a surface covered in sizzling patties, and the door slowly swung open juuuust enough for them to make eye contact.

.....

Fuck it, guy already saw him.

The famished bioweapon darted inside and made a grab for some patties, completely unaffected by the heat of the grill. He managed to snag two and stuffed one in his mouth like a frenzied animal before making a break for it back out the door, not stopping even as he heard shouting behind him and a flat ended instrument of some kind was thrown after him, bouncing off his back.

His back was still wounded and it stung like hell, but whatever the fuck that food was tasted so much better than anything he'd ever had in his life that he didn't even care! Fucking worth it.

Mystic

The yelling and flailing of the bug person got the attention of not only the man wearing the strange device on his head, but also the passerby and customers of this establishment.

"What the hell was that?!"

"I don't know! Was that a kid, or-?"

"No, it was like a shadow! What the fuck!!"

The outcries of the people follow the kid even as he bolts away from the storefront, swallowing the second patty of brown stuff with wild abandon. God, it was so good! Nothing had ever tasted this delicious in his life! He'd eaten meals only rarely, as rewards for 'good performance'. This made those meals taste like utter garbage by comparison. Steam puffed out of his mouth, the sound of sizzling emanating from his own throat as his inner fire burned up the material. Was this what made that delicious smell? Setting fire to food?

It satisfied the rumble in his stomach, for now. The gurgle in his gut had receded.

Back across the black stone path, he was under cover again. Safe.

And right on time, too. The familiar whine of electronics passes by overhead. Camera drones. He dodged a bullet, there.

Spooky

He ducked back into the cover of the woods and headed back towards the burrow to lay low. One drone was too much for his liking, but all bunched together like that, it was too dangerous to blow any one of them up without alerting the others. He'd caused enough alarm for now, and now that his stomach was feeling better, he didn't wanna push his luck any further than he already had.

Hopefully those people would calm down once they hadn't seen him for a while...

Once he made it back to the burrow entrance, though, he crouched with a bit of hesitation, licking the remaining patty grease off of his hands in thought as he tried to savor whatever left of that taste he could.

Yeah, he could go back down there and hide, but... then what? He wasn't tired, and he'd just be sitting in a hole in the dark for hours and hours, probably until his stomach hurt again and he'd have to come back out anyway.

Maybe it'd be better to explore a little bit first? Get familiar with the area. That way if he got chased again he could have some kind of an advantage... Or heck, maybe he could find some food out here. Animals had to eat too, right? People food was risky, but it was so good... The thought of going back to eating what he'd been used to before kind of sucked after experiencing something that nice, but fuel was fuel.

Standing back up, he started to wander again, though was sure to steer clear of the direction he'd just fled from.

~*~

Previous | Chapter Index | Next

#stickman #stickman oc #cryptid oc #escaped lab experiment #lab experiment oc #cosmic fiasco #cryptids au #cosmic fiasco cryptids #original fiction #writing #rp format #fedoraspooky #mysticdoodles

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the-wandering-mage · 3 months

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Is the spider that bit Peter Parker his parent???

Like genetically speaking since they donated genetic material to him? 🤨 Crackfic idea 💡 Mama spider tries to teach her part human son how to spider but no matter how much she tries she just doesn't seem to be able to teach him how to spider. He can't seem to build a web right, hunt or catch prey right. She adapts though. She loves her son even though he's a bit different it doesn't make him any less of an arachnid or any less loved. At the end they learn the true meaning of what it is to be a spider and the true meaning of family. The spider lived AU nobody asked for but I hope somebody writes. 🕷️

#fanfiction prompts #please someone write this #fanfic #the spider lives AU #spiderman #spider man fanfiction #mama spider #spiders #peter parker #sometimes family is that mammal you bit after escaping a lab #yeah radiation!#peter parker learns to be a spider #spidery peter parker #peter parker acts like a spider

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chodoyodes · 1 year

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Merm au doodles

#merm au #chodo draws #doctor who #ninth doctor #ninerose #rose tyler #he is the only one that will let her get near him for tests and things #mainly bc she takes time to actually built trust and consent enough for him to touch her to communicate #and then is his mouthpiece for the duration of his stay in the lab leading up to the escape #rose is also just like super fascinated by him in general #I use eel looks but the real anatomy situation is kind of a weird mammal/squid/other marine creature dealie #doctor who au

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 6 months

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Since you want to pelt me with rocks like mark did sarah, what would be the alt AU’s Halloween costumes (humans and alts)?

Hell, bonus points for Lab AU and Monster AU too.

I Need substance my brain is dying <3

DGFHDSJKAGSB

I'll just do the humans cause I don't know if the alts would dress up for halloween (plus it makes my job a bit easier, cause i'll do the monster au too

Cesar: Vampire, probably. that or some sort of horror movie villain

Sarah: Zombie

Seth: Sheet ghost. no he's not putting effort into his costume you can't make him

Gabriel: Doesn't care for dressing up for halloween, but if they did, they'd probably have masquerade getup

monster au:

Mark: Doesn't care about dressing up either, though when he was younger he'd go as movie monsters

Cesar: H. he's a ghost now, but also when he was younger he'd go as whatever. something different every year

Sarah: Probably a ghost

Adam: Doesn't dress up for halloween.

Jonah: A cowboy or a pirate probably

Evelin: Zombie. (kinda obvious why.)

Dave: Dresses up as something different every year

Thatcher: Doesn't really dress up or celebrate halloween that much. can't look at werewolf costumes the same way anymore.

Ruth: Can't. really dress up. though she might be a little festive, changing the theme of the computer's screen to be halloween themed

Six: Doesn't dress up (ugly as is /LHHJ)

Gardener: a tree /j

#asks are neat #tmc alternate au #tmc monster au #I'd do lab au too but i'm unsure of what their costumes would be. considering post escape they're kinda. scared to go outside in public

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ishomieokay · 3 months

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Masks We Wear (Chapter 3)

Teen and Up. 2.4k, suicide attempt, canon-typical violence, ptsd, mental health issues, murder, description of a corpse, morally grey!john, unethical experimentation, child abuse, nudity, kidnapping, threats of violence. part 3/44. AO3 link. part 1, 2.

Right before turning eighteen, John Vogelbaum escapes the clutches of Vought. Always under the radar, he manages to live as a regular Joe for the next couple of years. Until one day, trouble comes knocking at his door in the shape of Grace Mallory. What does the CIA want to do with him, anyway?

Or, the one where Homelander is never born. A traumatized, socially-awkward John wanders through life trying to work out what to do with himself, and somehow becomes a member of The Boys.

Taglist: @discowizard88 Let me know if you want to be tagged!

He’d been performing a flight test, when the idea occurred to him. As he reached the stratosphere for the very first time, wind blowing hollowly around him and with the taste of ozone tingling on his lips, John thought wildly, what if I die? When the answer came to him, he found himself flying forward, way past the point required to finish the test. Although it was barely noon, he could see the sky around him turn increasingly darker.

Up ahead there were stars flickering, and even further, John got a glimpse of the sun. He wondered whether he’d actually made it so far up, or if he could attribute the vision to lack of oxygen. Oddly enough, the possibility of his untimely demise didn’t concern him much. Instead, he was picturing the research group down below, running around like headless chickens as they tried to figure out why their subject’s ascent wouldn’t stop the way they planned.

See what you’ve done? This is what you’ve forced me into, John thought, vindictively, and he could see Jonah Vogelbaum in his mind’s eye, screaming and pulling violently at the little hair he had left once he found out that the results of his eighteen-year experiment had literally been flown into the sun. And wasn’t it sad that he valued his own life so little that he was willing to end it just to spite his creator?

John kept moving forward, undeterred. His lungs were burning. The air was compressing around him, increasingly heating up the higher he got. His protective gear, a skin tight suit made out of spandex and leather, was beginning to disintegrate. His whole body itched. He risked a glimpse down and halted to a stop almost without realizing.

Everything was quiet. Earth receded below him as he drifted in orbit, and John felt nauseous and faint. He’d gone too long without air. As resilient as he was, he still needed to breathe in order to survive. The rush of adrenaline that allowed him to power through this journey that would have annihilated any other creature was fading, taking its toll now that he’d allowed himself a rest. Quite some time had passed before John realized that he was falling.

It all came to him in fragments. He wasn’t falling anymore. There was a deep itch spreading throughout his body. He felt impossibly cold, and yet the slightest movement left a scorching feeling on his skin. Something moist and rough dragged across his cheek, finally pulling him out of his slumber. John opened his eyes and found a German Shepard staring intently at him. It had just licked him.

“Get off me, you dirty mutt!” He shouted, swatting at it as he sat up. The dog yelped and backed away, lowering its ears. John rubbed violently at the foul smelling drool covering his face. He looked around, and realized he’d landed on someone’s barn. They would probably try to get a few bucks out of him, what with the man shaped-hole he’d left on the ceiling.

Uh, not if I’m gone before they get here, John thought stubbornly. It’s not like he brought a wallet along for the launch. He didn’t own one, as a matter of fact. His legs were still wobbly, though, and as soon as he tried to stand he fell face first into a pile of hay. John groaned. His vision was blurry, and there was an incessant buzzing in his head. He felt raw and sort of deflated, like a football that had seen one too many world series.

Right, so, not dead, he thought with a hint of derision, now what?

He imagined Vogelbaum would be unspeakably pleased if he ever found out that one of his subjects had managed to survive free falling to Earth from outer space. Vought's billion-dollar investment in his pet project had certainly paid off. John was so utterly indestructible, he couldn't even kill himself if he tried.

There were indeed repercussions to his ludicrous attempt, though. The pain he was experiencing was so overwhelming it was hard to focus. He wondered briefly if he had suffered internal damage, but a quick glimpse at his body through his X-Ray vision was enough to rule out that possibility. There would probably be bruising, though. At last, he stood up. Regaining the ability to walk was a relief, although faint and short-lived. As soon as John crossed the doors of the barn, he was greeted by the panic-stricken face of an old man and the end of a shotgun barrel.

“I don’t want no trouble, okay?” He said in a thin voice. “Not with a Supe. Just leave now and I promise not to call the sheriff.”

John blinked, tilting his head to the side. The words took a minute to register due to the buzzing in his head. Once they did, he realized that he was the cause of the old man’s fear, although he didn’t think he’d done anything to warrant such a reaction. Besides existing in his general vicinity, that is. Wherever he was, he guessed coming across a Supe was something of a novelty, and perhaps not the type to be glad for.

“Easy, partner. What’s got you so jumpy, uh?” John said, offering the stranger what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s all fine, I’m not here to cause any harm.”

He took a step closer, and the man quickly took one back. He wasn’t staring at his face but down. John followed his gaze and grimaced. He wasn’t exactly looking his best at the moment. Or perhaps he was. The man was right to fear him, in any case. No upstanding citizen would trespass into someone’s private property while shamelessly sporting their birthday suit.

“Right, I’m naked. I guess that’s got you feeling a bit spooked,” John said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I swear there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, though. So, how about you put that gun down?”

He moved forward again, and that was his mistake. The man went trigger happy on him, and fired. He wasn’t hurt, of course. It had taken a series of operations and a rather uncomfortable amount of tinkling with his DNA, but now John could say that he was effectively bulletproof. The doctors had tested that quite diligently. As it always did back then, the bullet ricocheted off him. Then it went through the old man’s skull, instantly killing him. He fell to the ground, so fast and abruptly that it took John a moment to understand what had happened.

He stood there for quite a long time, withstanding the bite of the scorching sun on his exposed flesh. The German Shepard had returned and was barking furiously at him for the audacity of killing its owner. John paid it no mind, knowing that it couldn't hurt him. Points had been made that there was nothing on Earth that could. Blood was steadily spreading through the ground. He realized then that the dead man had not been old, as he’d first assumed, but rather young and worn out by life. He chuckled.

Once he started, John didn’t stop laughing until the pain became unbearable, forcing him to his knees. There were tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. No matter what he tried or where he went, it seemed he could never truly escape death - that is, unless it was his own.

Once he was able to compose himself, John went out onto the highway and hijacked a car.

“Oh, would you calm down?” He said, giving the anxious-looking driver a stern look. “We’ve been over this, Kevin. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just take me across the state line and you’ll be fine . And for fuck’s sake, roll the goddamn windows down! This adrenaline stench’s killing me.”

There was likely nothing to fear in this sleepy small town in the middle of Louisiana. Had he been any less of a paranoid, John would have seen no issue in staying a day or two to figure out his next move. He hadn’t been in the vicinity for more than two hours and he’d already left a body behind, though. It was an accident, of course, and perhaps he was being superstitious, but it did seem like something he ought to pay heed to. There was an itch in him compelling him to move forward, to put as much distance as he could between his handlers and himself. He didn’t want to risk Vought tracking him down if they somehow figured out that he wasn’t dead.

“Right,” Kevin replied, licking sweat off his upper lip, “of course.”

John rolled his eyes but said nothing. His whole body hurt, and he could feel a migraine forming. Many times as he made his way through the cornfields a rush to the head left him feeling as though he were about to faint again, but he never did. Even if flying hadn’t meant further exposing himself to detection, he wasn’t sure he could do it in the state he was in. He spared a glance to the unlucky fellow that had been forced to serve as his personal chauffeur, and noticed that his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Perhaps he’d gone too far with the whole threats and blackmail business.

“So, you don’t happen to have any clothes I could borrow, uh?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest to suppress the need to cover himself. You would think that after walking approximately three miles under the scorching mid-afternoon sun he would become accustomed to being naked out in the open. As it was, John wasn’t even used to existing outside of a lab, let alone being as exposed as he was. It was a sensory nightmare, if he’d ever had one.

“There’s a bag on the back seat,” Kevin said, looking visibly relieved. It was probably getting weird for him too. John pulled a shirt and some pants out of the bag and was quick to put them on. The fit was abysmal but at the very least it was covering. He considered Kevin for a moment, and wondered if there were any questions he ought to ask before they parted ways. It wouldn’t be long for now, if the street signs were to be believed.

John still wasn’t sure what he would do, once they made it to Arkansas. He felt out of sorts and unable to formulate a plan. It wasn’t clear to him whether his exhaustion could be attributed to the fall, the lack of oxygen or a prolonged exposure to radiation. Perhaps it was the combination of it all. He just knew that he wanted to make it out of the countryside, away from the unbearable heat and the sharp, overwhelming smells of farming and pollen.

It doesn’t matter where you go, tiger. They’re gonna find ya, a voice murmured in the back of his mind, as he stared listlessly at the passing scenery. You seriously think you can survive without them? You ungrateful, spoiled brat! You're never gonna make it on your own. May as well go crawling back to daddy Jonah and beg for his forgiveness, while you still can.

Fuck off, John replied with a scowl, I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone, and especially not you. Leave me the fuck alone!

You just couldn’t handle it, could you? Homelander said viciously. Don’t know why I’m surprised, you’ve always been so weak. So fucking fragile. Vogelbaum didn’t give ya enough head pats, is that it? Is that why you’re running away with your tail between your legs, like the fucking pussy you are?!

No. John shook his head. His lower lip trembled, and he bit into it to try and hide it. No, that’s not it. Just- shut the fuck up!

You would’ve made a lousy hero, anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best. From here forward, we’re on our own, partner. That’s how it’s always been, isn’t it? Who would want you, but me? Not the doctors nor the tutors. Certainly not Vogelbaum. I mean, not even death will have you. How pathetic is that?

John could feel tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, and quickly blinked them away. It was the pollen, he told himself - the sharp brightness of the outside world that he'd so rarely witnessed in the past. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. The never ending turning of the Earth, the people moving about, the smell of livestock, the cars passing by. He could feel his heart racing, and suddenly he felt nauseous and unbalanced, as if he were about to fall.

Are you seriously having a panic attack right now? For fuck’s sake, John. I thought we were past this, Homelander said, and John swore he could hear him laughing. If his handlers did manage to track him down, they would drag him back to the lab by the scruff of his neck. They would put him in the Bad Room again. He needed to blend in. That meant concealing his powers and performing normalcy - speaking, living and dressing like a faceless figure in the crowd. He could probably pull it off. His tutors always said that he had a talent for acting.

You can’t escape your fate, John, said that soft, brutally mocking voice. You were created with a purpose, and you’re going to fulfill it whether you want it or not.

Belatedly, John realized that he was muttering to himself, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down. Kevin was staring at him warily. He clamped his mouth shut, forcing his body to go completely still.

I’m the strongest man in the whole wide world, John thought, rubbing his eyes, I can do whatever the fuck I want.

#homelander fanfiction #the boys fanfic #homelander #antony starr #homelander fic #homelander the boys #my babygirl #fine i'll create my own content #lena writes #john escapes the lab and joins the boys au

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background-noise-headache · 1 year

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Okay I need a little feedback--I'm writing a "Steve was a lab kid AU" that is also a "Steve is Joyce Byer's biological son and went missing when he was a kid" and is also a "Eddie and Steve were childhood friends (before Steve went missing) AU"

(With a side of No-Stancy-side-plot-because-fucking-no-let-them-be-friends and Barb-lives)

Do I do this insane thing with an additional "Soulmate AU, soulmates can write on skin" plot. Because I was thinking of that kind of Soulmate AU earlier this week and-- Wouldn't it make sense that the lab doesn't allow the children to have any markers or pens to write on themselves because it's a top secret fucked up illegal experiment? I also think there's no way they'd teach the kids to read if that's the case.

And imagine that nobody has any idea what happened to young Steve, and then post-escape Steve tries writing to his soulmate for the first time in years and Eddie is like "holy fuck he's ALIVE??? I gotta find him!!!"

I don't know if I'll ever finish this fic or get it enough written to start posting it (I also have like three other ongoing AUs that I'm actively working on, but my brain is simmering with ideas that need physical form) so some feedback or someone to talk to about my projects would help a lot

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #I'm taking all my fave tropes and just smooshing them all together at this point #if you wanna know my other au ideas are-#Max and Steve are step siblings #Steve AND Robin are lab kids who escape and the reunite #another soulmate AU but with first words instead of writing on skin #talk to me about my AUs and let me go feral i guess #talk to me about your projects to if you want

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mukuberry · 2 months

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Ive been having milgram dreams again ^_^ they stopped for awhile but my last few dreams were milgram........ theyve been very selfshippy as well im so lucky 🙏

#kazuiloveposting #<- hes the focus of most of them ♡#i had this cool one where i was like. some mutant lab experiment thingy. and the entire world was this dictatorship #i managed to escape but kaz was one of the guards meant to keep me imprisoned. but i eventually convinced him to not turn me in #and we ran away together yay yipee yahoooooooo \^_^/ happy days. also the other prisoners were there ig #idk it was very cute ^_^ i keep thinking about it. fun au material................#i should develop it more..... thank u brain...................................#uhm. anyway goodnight :3 sleep well dear reader

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see-arcane · 2 years

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The Harkers are but the first example of the "would they be SCP personnel or SCP objects?" statement.

They are Both.

#they keep escaping containment and being helpful #they deserve lab coats at least #some nice nametags #Main Advisory: DO NOT INSULT/ENDANGER EITHER HARKER IN VIEW OF THE OTHER.#management will not be held accountable for what follows #jonathan harker #mina harker #scp foundation #dracula #dracula daily #monster au

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good-chimes · 11 months

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"Everyone underestimates me, oh, Bdubs, so adorable, so friendly, he’s gonna be just the nicest fella, and don’t get me wrong, I AM, I’m a DELIGHT, but I got plans. I got lots of plans. You’ll see."

-THE BIOCURIOSITY FILES - here on ao3

art and design by the one and only @bdoubledealing

#bdouble0 #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #ethubs #lab escape au #glossywrites

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dailyxisumavoid · 2 years

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[110] Doc is very passionate when talking about the labs

#I was brain rotting on this for so long #I almost forgot to post today haha!#I’ll give just a lil bit of lab lore #it’s where the infection started #they have people in the labs testing on this infection #Doc managed to escape the labs before becoming a test subject of sorts #because he was infected #welp that’s all for today #I sleep now #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #xisuma #xisuma fanart #xisuma void #xisuma void fanart #docm77 #docm77 fanart #hermit doomsday au #daily xisuma void

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cryptidsofwakemoor · 7 months

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Chapter 4 - Pond Paranoia

After being spotted too many times stealing food in the city, and the lab narrowing down his general location as a consequence, Matchstick has to lay low for a while. Thankfully, there is one other fairly reliable place he can go for food, but he might run into something unexpected...

(CW: brief old wound mention in the second paragraph)

~*~

Mystic

Scampering off into the woods, he's left with his bounty of- whatever this food was. A small armload of orange circles, and a handful of chewy pebbles. Did it matter what they were, exactly? It was food! And if he was really craving something else later, he could try digging in trash cans under the cover of night again. He'd have a much easier time scurrying away unseen while the sky was dark.

Odd, how strangely free he felt, now. Clearly, he wasn't safe, not by any means. But he didn't have that awful metal collar around his neck anymore, or those tube things hooked into his back. He could still feel one of them poking into the back of his torso, but it didn't sting as much anymore. The wounded area had scabbed up- he could feel the rocky, cooled magmatic texture that was the byproduct of his broken skin. Lava blood didn't clean up very nice.

...

Hours pass. The sun- at least, he thinks it's the sun, based on what information he was able to piece together from listening in on conversations at the lab and out here- was on its way down to the horizon. Once it set, he was free to go about raiding. The drone cameras would be docked. If Aria really wanted to try hunting him in the night, they'd certainly have a time of it, given his natural camouflage.

Spooky

Little by little, he was able to figure out the timing better.

The people would go away for the most part after it's been dark outside for a little while, and those few who remained were a lot easier to avoid. Turns out that empty den had been the best hiding spot he could hope for, because as the days went by he found he could sleep in there while it was light out without fear of discovery, and was relatively free to roam at night. And of course, he would take this time to go out and collect food, then squirrel it away in the den with him.

Granted, he had a hard time going completely without detection. If he wanted something that wasn't stale or rotting, he had to take his chances during the day. He discovered a sort of wooded area that people would sometimes go to that had flat-topped wooden structures that people would sit at and put their food on, and there were a few that were close enough to the treeline where he could snag something if they left it unattended. He usually did that around the time the sun would start to go down, if he woke up early enough. He was seen a few times, but was quick enough to flee that it wasn't like they could do anything about it.

He broke into a few buildings at night, too. Places where food was made, and other places where it was stored on big shelves. Locks weren't really a problem for him. Not nearly as pressing a problem as his insatiable appetite, anyway.

It didn't take long for rumors to spread around town of a strange shadowy creature that would show up to steal food. Grainy security camera footage of a silhouetted shape with two bright dots for eyes would emerge both online and on the local news, though some would decry it as a hoax to bring in business.

Still, needless to say, the number of drones increased in the area after that.

He had to lay low, and stay away from the town for a while...

Thankfully, there was always that place with the food cylinders on hooks. It was kind of out of the way, and it remained a safe enough place to go, though after he'd visited enough times the tree was kinda starting to run low on those spheres. Still, the food cylinders were as full as ever, and were quick to be replenished.

He ended up making that his main haunt for the next few days, after he quickly ran out of whatever stores he'd managed to gather in his den.

Mystic

Today, he was feeling a little bold. Instinct was telling him to stock up on food. He wasn't entirely sure why, but something about the way the air had begun to gather a chill, set off a small alarm in his brain. Somehow he knew more cold was coming, and that it meant less food.

Didn't help that if he was ever spotted, somebody nearby would yell 'it's the cat-man!', whatever a 'cat' was. It always resulted in people screaming or scrambling to get small devices he could only assume were more cameras, or weapons or something. The scientists in the lab frequently had similar objects they'd hold up toward him during or after testing. He never figured out their purpose. All that mattered was that they didn't cause him physical pain... he hoped.

Back to that house again- the one with the lawn of food cylinders. Right on schedule, they were refilled. Nice.

Spooky

By this time he'd figured out a way to carry more food with him. He'd emptied out a trash bag, and while he'd torn the top off of it while searching for food, there had only been paper trash inside it, making this one more clean of whatever gross sludge was in some of the other ones. And he could just hold the torn part at the top closed with his fist once it was full!

He busied himself with emptying some of the cylinders into the bag, and tossing in a few of the remaining spheres he could still reach up and grab from the tree. There were some more higher up, but he'd have to climb to get them... and he wasn't entirely sure how to do that. Eh, he'd deal with that later.

His attention was grabbed by a big cylinder full of those pebbles, hanging pretty close to the pond. Thankfully not too close to the point where he felt any danger of falling in, so like usual he just casually picked it up off the hook and tipped it so they fell out directly into his mouth, since his other hand was busy holding the bag, and he felt like having a nice little crunchy snack right now before heading back 'home'.

Mystic

...

....splsh

That- came from the pond.

He didn't remember seeing anything in the pond- ever.

A faint ripple passed over the still water as some fin frills broke the surface. They were swiftly followed by a head, sharp teeth bared in a grin.

"Alright, which animal is-"

The gleeful triumph- at having surprised what they thought was an animal- vanished instantly as their words choked with surprise. They drew back in the waters of the pond, staring with wide eyes.

"Holy-" their voice mumbled, that same voice that occasionally talked to the birds or themselves about eating a lot lately. It was the house resident- in the pond? How long had they been underwater??

"You're not an animal!"

Spooky

His eyes shot open wide and he froze with his mouth stuffed. He'd reflexively tried to inhale and a few pebbles got lodged in his throat as a consequence, threatening to choke him. Glowing tears springing up in the corners of his eyes, he forcefully swallowed the mouthful of mostly unchewed pebbles and lurched into a coughing fit, puffs of smoke spiraling into the sky from his mouth.

He'd dropped the cylinder in order to clutch at his chest as his coughing abated, though he eyed her warily as he backed away. Some of the contents of his bag had spilled in the confusion, but he clutched the remainder of his spoils and took off running, crossing the road and fleeing back into the treeline.

Mystic

The strange fish person jolts back a bit in shock, at the sight of him choking. They definitely weren't expecting some kid to be digging in their bird feeders, much less strangling on the peanuts!

When he bolted from the yard, the last thing he sees is the resident standing up out of the pond, hand outstretched toward him.

"Wait-!"

The voice is lost as he vanishes into the trees.

Pounding footsteps almost mask the volume of his heartbeat.

Were they chasing him? Why wouldn't they? They caught him taking their food!

...but- there hadn't been any anger. He didn't know what emotions were there, but at least he knew that anger wasn't one of them.

He makes it back to the den, heaving for breath past the aches in his throat from the singed shells of the pebble snacks. There wasn't a rustle of leaves or branches to indicate a hot pursuit. Whoever they were, they didn't follow him.

Spooky

Going inside, he plunked down on the ground with a rustle of discarded trash bags and food packaging, anxiety still coursing through his veins. Fuck, he was gonna fill this whole damn hole in the ground with smoke if he couldn't calm down...

He breathed in a big shaky breath, as much as his lungs could hold, and held it. He didn't know if this actually helped or not, but it seemed to make him feel better. He then let it out in a big woosh, which unfortunately contained more dark smoke, but at least after that he was able to breathe more normally.

Setting down the bag of food, he slid both of his hands over his head and let it fall against his knees, keeping his hands on the nape of his neck as he tried to think about what the hell he was gonna do next.

He couldn't go back to town yet, and even if that person hadn't seemed mad, he wasn't sure if going back there so soon was a good idea... If he did, he'd have to wait until it was nighttime proper, maybe they'd be asleep then.

But were they gonna still fill those tubes if they knew he was taking from them? They were trying to feed those little flying things, not... not him.

He had more time before he needed to sleep, but he didn't feel like going back out there. He idly tore open an orange sphere and tossed the bits of skin over to where the other bits were piled up, old and rotting. While the juice was kind of annoyingly sticky on these things, they seemed to help keep his mouth from feeling too dried out, and the juice was kind of a relief, as tart as it was.

A part of him wondered if he should've been trying to drink some water this whole time, but he wasn't sure, and wasn't about to try it with that pond. Especially now that he knew he could be ambushed there.

Fuck, it would've been nice if he had a manual on how the hell he was supposed to function... But he must've been doing okay so far, since hey, he wasn't dead yet.

He ended up going through the rest of the spheres he had left without really paying attention, as worried as he was about other things, and just sat there watching the entrance for a while until he felt tired enough to go to sleep...

Mystic

...

That night, he's plagued by a nightmare.

He was being hunted. He knew that already- but this time, they found him.

Branches crunched and smoked under his bare feet as he pelted through the woods.

Metal objects on cables, strings and chains flew from the darkness, trying to snatch his limbs and his torso.

One of them manages to nail a wrist. The metal clasp wraps around the joint, squeezing tight as the cable it's tethered to pulls tight, stopping his forward momentum with a painful wrench.

Another metal object cuffs an ankle, tripping him and throwing him off balance until he falls to the ground. His chin hits a rock, jarring his thoughts.

Finally, another clasps around his neck. It constricts, making it hard to breathe as he's tugged backwards like a disobedient dog on a leash.

"You're not getting away that easily," the ponytailed man threatened, the voice all too familiar even as he can't see him through the fog of the woods. "We've sunk too much time, effort, and money into you. Don't worry, you'll be worth the cost, soon. And after plenty more sessions of mental conditioning and training, I'm sure you'll come around."

Something sharp jabbed into the base of his skull.

He jolts awake. A rock on the floor of the den was poking him in the back of the neck, hard.

Spooky

Dizzied and panicked, he forces himself upright and slaps at the back of his neck with his hand, trying to feel for whatever had stabbed him. The phantom pain still radiated in his mind even as the actual minor pain of having rolled over onto a pointy rock faded, leaving him shaken and confused.

Despite his high body temperature, a cold wave of fear crashed over him, leaving him shivering and feeling a little bit sick to his stomach. He felt like he had to move, but couldn't get up, so he just crawled forward clumsily and fumbled about in the dark, mindlessly pushing the debris in front of him aside.

Despite knowing this place was safe, in that moment he didn't feel like it was. No drones were imminent, there was no clank of chains to be heard outside, nor electronic buzzing. Nothing but the faint whisper of a soft wind drifting down through the entrance tunnel. But what if they were waiting? What if they were waiting out there and knew he was in here and were just waiting for him to slip up and leave?

The paranoia that had crept up on him was paralyzing. He needed to run, but there was nowhere to run. He was already hiding, but it wasn't good enough. He needed to hide even more.

Unable to think of anything else, he went from pushing the trash away to scooping as much of it up as he could and covering himself with it, pressed up against the dirt wall and trying to stay as still as possible.

For the entirety of the next day, he didn't leave the den at all.

~*~

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