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turkeyinnovember · 6 months

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lab rats pt1

By the time Curt woke up, he found his spine aching from being left on the couch for… Damn, God knows how long. He blinked off the haziness and let himself roll off the couch, barely catching himself on the carpet with his knees.

An elbow that landed on the coffee table hit something- a glass. The water inside splashed out and soaked his sleeve. He didn’t have a habit of keeping water on the table, though at the same time he didn’t have a habit of sleeping on the couch.

He reached for the water, ignoring the neon sticky note on the backside while he drank, the faint taste of dust prompting him to question just how long he had been out for. With the cold water setting in his system and his mind clearing up, he was left with no choice but to recall what he’d done moments, hours, or even days ago. Curt pursed his lips and spun the glass around to read what he expected to be — and is — an uncomfortable reminder of what he does.

‘thank you agent for your hard work, the subjects have been successfully detained. meet in 304’

Curt could almost snicker at where the director had run out of space to write and had to squish the letters together, but he didn’t have the heart to. Or maybe he was still woozy from the sedative. It wouldn’t make sense for him to feel bad for them.

Regardless, it’d be a good idea to do as he’s told.

But something… He whipped his head around to stare at the camera in the corner, almost visualizing it flash red. He finally gave up after it remained motionless, though he promised to himself that he’d get someone to remove the camera.

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After so long of being under disguise, dressing back in the suit felt almost strange to him. But, almost ironically, that foreignness was more familiar to him with the frequency of his missions— they weren’t a big organization.

Still, the halls of the building were familiar to him, the near manic look of the research team was just as before he left, and that corner with the scratched wall was familiar. He’d been here since he was a teenager and this is his home, he reminded himself as he pushed open the door to 304.

There she was.

She’d transformed the security room into a livable space, insisting on monitoring the entire building by herself. Only rarely does she ever leave to physically direct important processions. Perhaps she didn’t trust many people, perhaps she just liked being in control.

Curt would hate to have to admit that he was at least a little afraid of her, it was especially ironic after growing up together and creating this entire scheme. Maybe distance was put between them the second she assumed her position as the lead of the organization and head researcher, and he was technically just an employee of hers. Maybe he was even viewed as more a pawn than anything else.

Even though this started as their project and he didn’t care any less than she did.

“How was the sleep, Sleeping Beauty?”

Damn, well, he’s been in here for less than two seconds and he already wants to leave. “Not bad, considering I’ve been sleeping for three days.”

“Yeah, we extended the dosage a little.” She waved her hand dismissively, “I wanted to make sure they were the first things you’d see!”

He stepped forward with the invitation, glancing over her shoulder at the security screen and cringing despite fully expecting to see the four. They were still out cold, tossed over the floor without much care despite bunk beds prepared for them. He wasn’t sure why that ticked him, it was expected for the personnel to treat them like this. The four no longer wore the clothes he last saw them in — now a uniformed, prisoner-like outfit — and they were decked out with sedative collars and location tracking bracelets. He recognize those and even assisted in the production.

“It took a bit of time, you know,” She watched the still screen with unreasonable interest. She glanced at him, only then realizing that he wasn’t settled and dragged out a chair for him. “Oh come on Curt, sit down. …it was hard to run all the tests within the time the first dose could provide us, so we had to extend it. Don’t take it to heart.”

“Well, thank you then.”

She ignored the taunting tone and continued, “Not that we don’t trust you, I mean. Of course we recognize your ability to locate and rule out those who are and aren’t serpents, you are exceptional in your skill with a three out of four accuracy, yes, but after nearly eight months all you gave us was that you limited it down to these four.”

Suddenly, she spun to face him. The grin at her lips now dragged out into a snarl and her eyes narrowed. “And what was that shit with using your birth name?”

“I don’t recall any policy against it,” Curt rolled his eyes, “I’ve told you I recognize one of them from college and it’d be easier that way. Besides, I didn’t think it concerned you.”

“How does it not concern me?” She scowled, “You get caught by the police and were all gone! If you want to die, don't fucking drag me with you!”

A figure on the screen moved and Curt immediately shushed her. It seemed confused, before scrambling to wake the others.

She clicked her tongue and turned back, tweaking the focus and zoomed in while increasing the volume with her other hand.

“This is..?”

“Livestream, yeah.”

The silence between them pursued with the two concentrated on the screen. As the volume increased and camera adjusted, the audio grew clear and every movement of the four was transferred onto the screen.

“Yo, what the fuck is this?” Christian hissed, glancing around the room. His chin had sprouted uneven bits of stubble and some of his hair fell out of the ponytail. He drummed a finger on the floor, radiating a mix of anxiety and irritation.

“Yeah Ivan,” Den tried to brush her bangs back, uncomfortable with the absence of her hat. “What’d you do this time?”

“Why is it me?” The man replied half heartedly, glancing around the room and scratching anxiously at his new collar. “What kind of asylum did we get arrested to?”

“I feel like we kind of need one anyway,” Unlike the others, Kristine never even attempted to pick herself off the floor. She lay on the ground with an air of pessimism as she loosened her braid and picked out the wilted flowers.

“Goddamn,” Ivan held a hand out, checking the dried petals after she dropped one there, “How long have we been here for?”

Christian climbed up and walked towards the door further in the room while Den turned to the closer one.

Curt watched the director hum to herself as she clicked a few buttons and another monitor lit up. He leaned back and saw Den poke her head into the bathroom and meet his eye — not literally, but through the camera —

“What the fuck, there’s a camera in the bathroom?!”

For perhaps the first time since Curt was able to befriend her, they had enough — as Kristine would put it — physic bond to synchronize a sentence, though the conditions were strange. He would have believed the echo from the monitor was his imagination if it hadn’t been for the weird look the director shot him.

“Unfortunately yes,” She sighed, “There’s vents and mirrors in the bathroom, you know? Can’t risk them trying anything when we’re so close.”

He made no comment.

“Yo, that’s kinda weird!” Ivan squeezed past her and climbed on the countertop to face the camera, saying something else that Curt didn’t quite catch with his attention now on Christian.

He knew the guy had a fiery temper, though over the years he’d gotten much more reserved… supposedly. He shuddered at the strength he used to tug at the door handle. A moment passed when he finally relaxed and pressed his forehead to the door, eyes still glued to the door knob. He seemed to sigh and took a few steps back… Only to jump-kick the door instead.

He’d worry more for the door if he hadn’t known how much money went into the quality and security of this place.

Hearing the noise, Den and Ivan rushed to join the two by the front, while the director radioed a few commands to the armed forces waiting outside and connected her microphone.

“Please refrain from attempting escape, subject seven.” She announced, the speaker captured their attention and the questions poured at once.

It was the usual procedure. When he had time to stay in the foundation, he was often invited to watch the director negotiate with the subjects and personnel. So, he wasn’t sure why his heart suddenly surged with fear when she leaned into the microphone.

She seemed to know though.

With the same hand, she switched off the microphone and turned to him, “How much do you want to tell them?”

“Me?”

It was rare for her to ask for his input. He didn’t really care what she told them, though there usually is a script for the information the subjects are allowed to have. She seemed to believe that her ideas are superior to all others and they’d only ruin her project. Although, Curt feels like he understood why his opinions matter now.

He felt guilty.

As expected, she didn’t actually care about his answer and cleared her throat as soon as the four quieted down. “This is,” she glanced almost tauntingly at Curt, “Michelle speaking. I am the director of this organization…”

He wasn’t ready and somehow she seemed to know that. He couldn’t have her telling them he was behind this and she seemed to know before he could. He wasn’t ready for them to know he betrayed them.

Please, he almost whispered. But instead he just wrapped his hand around something behind him. It felt like a mug.

“How about we let someone else tell you more details? Introducing my right hand man,” She turned, grinning at him. Curt stared back blankly as he adjusted his grip. He couldn’t control his face to make any expressions, or make verbal threats for fear of his voice getting caught on mic. His nerves felt as if they were hanging by a thread and he swore he’d kill her right there on the spot the second his name came out of her mouth.

He blinked and decided to act first.

Kicking off the chair, he dashed for the mic. Side-stepping Michelle while twisting his torso to face her, his left hand shot in front for the power switch and the right with the mug was raised high in the air, threatening to strike had she made any moves.

He relaxed his shoulders the second he felt the switch flip, though the blood that rushed his ears muted the click he expected. He didn’t consider lowering the weapon as he protected the mic behind his back and glared at the woman. He could hear the four in the cell start to discuss the crashing sounds he had made, moving from the mic he muted the monitors.

“What the fuck?” She cursed at him in some type of whisper-yell, though an almost humored smile was present in her tone. Curt hated that. She too, had pushed off her chair and stood up, causing Curt to tense again. Sensing this, she raised both of hands in the air and stepped back, “You’d go this far? I mean, they'll know eventually… Whether they guess it or I tell them.”

“Shut up,” Curt huffed, he scrambled in his mind for a suitable, appropriate answer for this situation, but when it came up blank he just choked back plainly, “How about you just shut the fuck up? Alright?”

Distracted, he failed to notice her shift in position as she lunged forward at him and kicked him to the floor. He coughed as he collided with the wires on the floor, allowing himself one second to stabilize before he climbed up and chucked the mug as hard as he could at her head. Expecting the projectile, Michelle moved at high speeds and threw the chair she sat on earlier at him while the mug missed her by a few inches and crashed into the wall.

“You’re cleaning this shit up.” He heard her say.

“Shut up.” His ribs ached.

He heard chairs being dragged and someone flopping onto it. “You are also going to be the one that tells them.”

“Why?”

“Why they have to know? ‘Cause I hate you, and I want to see you suffer, Curtis.”

“Why do I feel bad for doing this, my job, why do I feel guilty?”

“Why are you asking me, aren’t you in therapy?”

“What’s different about them? This hasn’t happened before.”

“You know what else hasn’t happened before? You using your real name.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michelle.”

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Subscript Notes: i'll post this onto ao3 when i grammer check and revision and all that jazz also sorry for not being on tumblr more school's been so fucking busy im just draggin out and waiting for easter break at this point constructive criticism and stuff r welcomed btw final draft will be on ao3 anyway

#good day folks #uhm #this is the au i was talking about #opposite of soup's scp au #this is like the third time ive rewritten the first chapter so let me know if anything is confusing #i have a habit of assuming people have knowledge of something #recreyo au #recreyo fanfic #ivan animated #frugal aesthetic #kfel #curt richy #cypherden #lab rats au

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