#// uhuhu this was supposed to just be a sketch 'cause it's not actually that interesting

[californiatowhee]

waiting for his husband to pick him up after work

bonus domestic nonsense:

[k0meetta-blog]

.ﾟ☆Star-Kissed☆ﾟ.

@wayfaringmagpie

“Come on, I told you that your name is Einar Pekkanen and that we found you abandoned and helpless with nothing but ripped clothes and the barcode imprinted on your neck. Why would you question me, son?” Son. It felt odd to be called like that by the scientist of the laboratory, the one who was commanding around all the other scientists and students, the one who was his adoptive father and the one who saved his life ---- grimacing some, the red-head’s intense eyes moved to the side and looked off to the distance, blinking as he pondered about the words spoken just now. Son. For some odd reason, his stomach twisted and turned around with nausea, displeased with the explanation. “Einar.” The man before him attempted to catch his attention back, his voice stern and ambiguous. “I wish I had the answers for you, to give your mind peace and to help you understand your origins. We don’t need to know what alien race you have within you in order to respect and love you. You’re a smart boy.” -- “I’m not a boy.” -- “Smart man, then. Either way, there is no need for me to explain to you how none of this matters.” ---- “Not to you, obviously.” As he turned around to walk back into his room, he merely heard the old man scold him by calling out his name another time, speaking in a human language which Einar wasn’t capable of understanding (it sounded very Nordic and hefty, but that’s about it), the freckled male then opened the door of his lab station by operating a button next to the door, which caused it to slide open left and right, closing behind him after he entered. 

A heavy sigh leaving his throat, lips, he gritted his teeth a moment before sinking into his chair by the desk, staring at the wall before him. Just what am I? That thought kept racing through his head, the more he was haunted by those dreams, nightmares. Everytime, he’d find himself in a huge test tube, filled with an odd liquid, almost slimy, but once he opened his eyes completely and looked down on himself, he had the arms of a nightkiller -- sharp scythes instead of hands, his heart rate increasing which was monitorised by humans, scientists, and they’d gather around him, ogle at him and observing him like a zoo animal, taking notes and discussing instead of helping him; it was tiring to have this repeat every single night (or more so day, for he tended to be more and more nocturnal the more he kept working in this lab), but the ginger told himself that those were just repressed feelings due to working on the slimes and the nightkillers, it had to happen eventually, something like burn-out-syndrome, right? Pekkanen leaned against one of his hands which was propped against his desk to massage his temple, grabbing the mouse with his other and operating his computer to open a file. “It makes no sense.” The man muttered to himself, moving his hand in order to rub against the tattoo which was on his neck while reading the numbers on that genome sheet. This was clearly his name on there, and it was clearly the results that he extracted from his own blood work (which he also did on himself, not wanting to cause any suspicion by asking another scientist for the favour) ---- and those were clearly his numbers; Einar Pekkanen, 55 % human and 45 %... “How would I have the same numbers as those nightkillers? It must be a mistake. Perhaps it’s an alien race similar to nightkillers... unexplored and not categorised into the system.” As he kept conversing with himself, he opened his notebook in which he scribbled everything he noted down about nightkillers during his research in order to become a proper scientist; perhaps having to deal with mutation as a first semester was kind of tricky and hard, but his ‘father’ had high expectations and saw the intelligence level in him from the very start. “The creation of the nightkillers. Sounds like a cheap novel.” He mused as he flapped the pages -- sketches of the slime and nightkillers, names for their organs and body parts, behaviour, food, ---- “Mating behaviour; Nightkillers are aggressive in nature towards any other race except their own. They do not attack one another when put into the same room, however when faced with another monster or alien, they growl at and attack said creature instantly. Nightkillers have very rare mating seasons, and when they do, the males will flaunt and show-off in front of the females, almost pushing themselves onto them in order to gain their attention. There is no known observation of a nightkiller mating with any other race than their own.” 45 % nightkiller? This was clearly a mistake. He had to dig deeper and find out about similar genomes, similar races----

“Einar. We need you to do the night shift tonight and keep an eye on the recreation room in the west wing. I did it the last two nights and I need some shut eye.” A blond female -- human -- barely entered his room as she started speaking, something about her voice was not menacing but more so degrading and haughty, almost as if she was talking to one of those so-called lab rats; this was nothing new to the lanky tween, not even averting his gaze towards her as she spoke, let alone giving her any attention with his body language, he merely hummed lowly. “’We need you?’ I see, I see... I suppose, you have permission from Väinö?” -- “Yes, I asked Mr Pekkanen.” -- “Alright.”

Without any further exchange of words, the woman left and Einar cracked his neck as he leaned back on his chair. “Cunt.” He muttered, feeling slight aggression rising in his belly as he thought of her and how she was no exception ---- all of them treated him poorly. The mutt, as some called him behind his back, but oddly enough too scared to say those exact words into his face. “Cowards, all of them.” Slamming his notebook to close it, he deleted the files of his experiment on his own blood work, making sure to not leave any trace behind for Väinö to find it. Mostly not after the conversation they had today.

As he stood up from his seat, he grabbed some paper work and extracted essences from various monsters and aliens ---- while he would have to do the night shift, he could keep himself busy with his personal research on stems and their effect on humans. “Might as well, right?” Einar spoke as he looked into the computer screen, chuckling deeply. The excessive amount of talking to himself was getting out of hand, but one could only be this lonely in a science station full of humans who did not want to have any social interaction with him unless it was necessary. “Yes, I’ll test the effect of the agility essence. Perhaps infusing it into the slime would be interesting. They’re quite slow and annoying, and perhaps it would have a nice effect cloning them with the essence also? Imagine, a fast slime snail chasing after those humans, uhuhu... joy...” As he already exited the room, some scientists passed him and merely observed the man having a conversation with himself, but he did not mind ---- they were just going to their rooms to get some rest for the night, while Einar had to stay awake and make sure the breeding nightkillers would not have some emergency situation; or rather, that they would not break out. However, the precautions took on these creatures in those test tubes made it nearly impossible for them to break out ---- something more severe had to happen for them to actually be a threat outside of their breeding spots.

But it did not help that Pekkanen kept having those nightmares, no, images of them scattered all over this lab, attacking the scientists and mauling them to death; one part of his brain is telling him that he was merely paranoid and needed to calm down, the other part however did every kind of research in order to have a backup plan (also called plan B, obviously) in order to make it out alive. His interest for these stems was surely born out of curiosity, but it eventually developed into more of a survival instinct, something like a hunch.

“Day 26.” The red-head said after grabbing his dictaphone (which was merely a microphone attached to his ear, which he activated with a hand gesture. “Nightkiller breeding station seems to have almost reached its final spurt; west wing test tubes, incoming check.” Entering said west wing, the freckle face eyed the glassy tubes, growing nightkillers inside, breathing and living, but unconscious yet ---- almost like fetuses in a mother’s womb, right? But how would he know... “Limbs reached their limit of growth; strong rib cage, no armour needed. Small movements visible now and then.” Touching the glass, he observed one of the creatures closer, blinking at them. “Colour variations visible due to various slime genomes and DNAs used; various types visible too. Most frequent seems to be the ice type...” As he kept talking into his microphone in order to summarise his observation and his research on those mutants, Einar eventually made his way to the west wing surveillance room, taking a seat in front of a variety of screens which showed videos of the surveillance cameras of the multiple rooms all over the science lab in which the nightkillers were kept in their breeding tubes. Hours of boredom and reading into his notes, writing and peeking at the screens in front of him, he started his microphone once more.

“Day 26. The migraines are getting stronger, I doubled the last dosage of sumatriptan, one step further and it is a lethal dosage. Morphine could be an option, but I’m tired. No sleep. No appetite. It’s noisy, too noisy. I never heard of migraines like those before. Perhaps those are signs of schizophrenia? Hearing voices, noises, they talk, but I don’t understand... unknown language. They’re in my brain... they’re inside...” Taking a breath, he looked over at the tubes of essences which he lined up in front of him, as neatly as possible. “Is this the alien genes in me? Plausible possibility for bipolar behaviour depending on the gene pool. Possible tendency for schizophrenia due to the wrong gene pool mixed together. Uncontrollable outbursts of anger, anxiety, paranoia, nausea, depression; Need to raise the endorphins probably? Lithium... lithium...” He clicked his tongue as he kept pondering, watching the screen before him as if it hypnotised him. “Benzodiazepine... benzodiazepine... sleep... can’t sleep... sleep... can’t sleep.” The more he stared at the screen, the louder the noise in his head had gotten, but instead of being aware of it, Einar merely took it in.

There was a faint, very peculiar sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. It got louder the more he listened to it ---- almost like a siren, it changed and shifted, eventually sounding like an elongated screech, deep and dull, almost muffled, but it got louder and clearler, and louder---- once he realised that he had his eyes closed, Einar opened them slowly. Did he sleep? No good! But to him, it was no shock that he was asleep, or to wake up, more so he felt his blood run ice cold once he heard a scream from the hallway outside from the west wing, almost as if someone was fighting for their life. “Hah?” Jumping in his chair, he must’ve sunken in and fallen asleep on the desk, sleepy eyes searched the monitors and saw that the west wing breeding station was empty ---- the nightkillers have escaped. “Wha-- how... how... how?!” A loud thud against the door, he was thankful that this one could not be opened with a sensor ---- one needed a keycard which he bore on himself, staring in fear at the closed door as he heard the familiar growls and screams of the mutants, accompanied with the gurgling sound of someone choking on their own blood, his imagination running wild as he tried to picture what was going on outside. “Day 26...” He spoke in a mutter into his dictaphone, shaky hands searching for the stems and essences all over the desk. “Outbreak. Nightkillers’ aggressive nature is showing.” While he attempted to speak as calmly as possible, the pleading screams and noises on the other side of the very closed door which kept him alive were recorded as well, one would suggest that Einar was in utmost shock at the moment, but he was not sure if there was not a single hint of pleasure peaking inside of him while listening to those humans die in such an inhumane way. “Blood thirst is their main nature; predator behaviour, they may be hungry, similar to appearance of incredible hunger after hibernation, the hormones and metabolism are similar to the breeding station. But perhaps they don’t kill to eat, but kill out of pleasure. Need more evaluation on that.”

Finding the invisibility stem he built on, ogling the needle, Pekkanen snickered. “Humans create the weirdest monsters, but we don’t need monsters when even the Gods and Satan turned their backs away from us; we aren’t good, we aren’t evil, we are abandoned and we are insane. No... not we... they. I’m not one of them. I’m not with them. They’re not me. How ironic and so pleasing to see the creation kill its creator. How Mother Nature keeps reminding us that we cannot play God. And how we cannot climb the ladder by pretending to be something that we are not.” Inhaling sharply then, he eyed the small window at the door. “They’re capable of seeing infra-red, hence the name. Nightkillers are nocturnal, their eyes are blinded by daylight and anything pretending to be daylight. They react to motions more so than sounds. Test number 268: invisibility stem used in order to avoid being spotted. This is the first time the invisibility stem is used on a hum... humanoid subject. Possible side effects will be listed.” With that said, Einar rammed the needle into his arm and released the substance into his body, unsure if it worked, but he couldn’t see his reflection on the window anymore. Picking out his keycard from the front of his robe, he opened the door and stumbled back due to the dismembered corpse falling into the room. He was right about the aggression level of the nightkillers ---- but he was still unsure just how they could have escaped.

Rushing out of the surveillance room, he made his way towards the exit, knowing the laboratory by heart, therefore he did not need to look around. Passing dead bodies and lurking nightkillers, ready to jump at anything and anyone the could lay their eyes on, Pekkanen would lie if he said he wasn’t nervous in the slightest. Sure, the terrible sight of blood and guts everywhere, the smell of death lingering, the smell of iron... it was heavy, but due to his scientific experience, he was not appalled by those things that easily. However, there was no sight of his mentor, his ‘father’ ---- did he escape? Most likely, he would be dead, right? But one would never know...

There it was! The exit! After passing all those nightkillers and all the other monsters that were freed with the outbreak, Einar became a little too euphoric and stormed towards the door, unaware that the invisibility stem wore off quicker than he thought ---- perhaps he had to double the dosage on a humanoid body? But it was too late already and one of the mutants jumped in his way to block the exit, tossing him to the ground and growling at him in a manner that saliva was spat all across his face. Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck!! Crawling backwards onto the tiled, white, sterile ground, away from the nightkiller before him, his turquoise eyes widened, already seeing his life pass right before him, seeing the motion of the scythe-like arm lunging towards him, however hitting the ground next to his head instead. The hovering body of the creature casting a shadow onto him. “P... playful nature... nightkillers... toy with their...p-prey? Almost like cat and mouse... right? Maybe lying down motionlessly will... bore them...?” While he kept going with his audio-notes of the scene which unfolded before him, he wasn’t aware of how the figure slowly but steadily moved away from him, almost as if it lost interest, but there was more to it than that ---- almost like a realisation that hit this murderous creature and made it stop. Weird. As it dashed off into the laboratory (perhaps in order to find actual prey?), Einar didn’t waste any more time and got up quickly, placing his hand onto the scan of the door in order to unlock it and escape this insane hell-hole. There were no words to describe the experience he just made ---- and he was less shocked about the death he witnessed and more so confused about being spared and getting out alive. 

Weeks passed after the incident at the science lab number 8 on Mostichi -- Einar lost everything except his notebook, dictaphone and the essences he stuffed into his white coat. While he was running through the forest, he found an abandoned rifle next to a body. Of course, he took it with him, he never was taught how to use weapons, but he found out to be quite the natural on that. The shock eventually wore off, or so he thought, but Einar kept having nightmares of the nightkillers -- the same ones that haunted him even before the outbreak -- now, he wouldn’t find the answer to his questions at all. Without a science lab and a high-class scientist like Väinö backing him up, there was little to no chance to find out about his alien race ---- to find out about his background and why he exists, why he was abandoned, why he had to be adopted. Ruffling his messy red hair as he sat on a rock inside of a cave, hiding from the monsters that were all over the place; it seemed as if they spread all over Mostichi in such a rapid time. Now would’ve been the perfect chance to actually observe nightkillers in their natural habitat-- or as natural as it may be for creatures that were born inside of a tube due to mutated DNA. but nonetheless, it seemed as if they found a perfect part in this world, on this planet, just like all the humans somehow found their place and were able to inhabit this planet after leaving Earth. Of course, Earth was something Einar never witnessed with his own eye, unlike Väinö (at least the old man kept telling him about this place). But still, the freckled male had to be careful and cautious not to be spotted by the nightkillers; it was simply a freak accident, sheer luck, that he was not ripped apart by that mutation after his invisibility stem wore off... he was somewhat sure of that.

Eventually, his attention was caught by the sound of harvesting and muffled music. Sitting up as on the high positioned rock, he looked around curiously. Another human? The only ones he knew were the ones at the lab... and they most likely were wiped out. Right? Was he hearing things again? As he shook his head in order to tell himself to just ‘ignore it’, there was more of the harvesting sound. Gems. It was light and sparkly, and the music got a little louder, accompanied by humming. “Hello?” The ginger called out, hearing his echo bouncing off the walls as he waited for a response -- nothing. Grabbing his rifle out of the retainer on his back, he jumped off of the rock and activated his wing suit in order to land as smoothly onto the ground as possible. Long gone was the white scientist robe he was given to by Väinö -- his armour and overall dress up more so looked like the ones astronauts wore. Just to make sure that he would not be attacked, he put on his helmet also ---- but more so to stay anonymous from whoever was lurking around in the same cave as him. Perhaps this was one of the humans looking for him ---- attempting to murder him? Maybe they blame him for the outbreak!? After all, it was his night shift duty and it was his responsibility to keep everyone safe. It was only logical to presume that he meant the worst for everyone, just freeing those nightkillers and making it out alive of the laboratory. Master plan! But then again, he fell asleep and thus it must’ve been something or someone else...

After roaming the humid cave for any figure, he finally spotted someone. Just like him, they wore an overall, armour and a helmet also. By the looks of it, they owned a high level Mark Tool, they were able to collect multiple resources at the same time. Prospector? Probably. And the music clearly came from their direction too. Weren’t they scared to be jumped by some alien and killed? One had to be on high alert at all times, those nightkillers, tech hunters... hell, even regular slime monsters, they were everywhere and ready to kill. What a weirdo.

Having his rifle pointed at the figure moving and dancing around, humming and collecting, he had to make sure that they were no threat whatsoever. Slowly, Einar inched closer with quiet steps, not wanting his shoes to cause any echo and perhaps catch the person’s attention, startle them or -- worst case scenario -- make them shoot him right in the stomach or chest. The red-head found out that he was healing a lot quicker than others, probably due to his alien genetic make-up ---- but he was still not ready to risk ending up dead on the spot.