Archive of Our Own ^beta

Needle. Shock. Scalpel. Blood. Pain, pain, pain. Cell. Sleep. Repeat.

 Over and over again until he could barely remember a time before. In that dark cell, warm colors fluttered through his brain. Colors which formed shapes of a house and people. Laughter, crying, hugs, fighting. He was human before he came here, that much he was sure. He had a name and those he called family. 

Now blue gloved hands handled him. With steely eyes and frowns permanently stitched to their faces. They poked and prodded, reprimanding him if he got out of line. They referred him as “It” or “Experiment 1217″. They didn’t think of him as human.

How could they? Not after that fateful night, the one where he convulsed on the ground. It hurt, the pain tearing at every fiber of his being. He thought he was dying. He wished he’d died. Instead he woke to find himself changed. Transformed into a different being entirely. Long spindly appendages and far too many eyes. 

He shrieked, the sound terrifying him even further. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like that of a monster.

He tried escaping in this new form. He thrashed and bit to no use. They knew what to expect, after all. They were the ones to do this to him. They neutralized him, warning him that as second attempt would result in termination. 

He hissed at this, too wounded to say much else. They left him alone for a few days, without food or water. In that time, he caved into his new instincts. He scuttled on his inhuman black limbs and weaved a new home in the corner of the cell. 

He laid there, plagued with dreams of a home forever lost to him. Of a man who wore a bowler-hat and carried a cane. The image brought an odd set of emotions. Anger at the man for trickery. Gratitude for what the man had done for him.

“You snake!” He yelled in once a dream as the man cackled at him.

“What? It’s not my fault you have a terrible pokerface.” 

“Why you–” He lunged for the man only to ram straight into a cement wall. For the dreams never lasted. They always ended with reality hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water. 

When they placed a goat inside the cell on the third day, he wasted no time. He devoured it, satisfying his hunger. The small part of him still human was horrified. The monster was satisfied. So were the scientists.

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating!” One exclaimed, writing something down on their clipboard, “It has taken well to the serum. We must thank our associate for bringing it to our intention.”

They ran tests on him. Dozens and dozens. Testing to see what scraps of humanity remained. Or perhaps testing to see if they could drain it completely out of him. Until he was just a monster, a being neither man nor beast. 

An old quote from something nestled in the back of his mind. Something about there being a difference between questioning if one could do something vs should one do it. Obviously, they only questioned the former and never the latter.

A man entered the cell now, light on his toes. He watched from the shadows, feeling the vibration of every step seep through his core. The man wore gloves. Not blue gloves. Yellow. He wasn’t wearing a white lab coat, rather his outfit looked like a maintenance worker. 

He didn’t understand. Were they testing to see how he’d consume human as prey? It had been awhile since his last meal.

He took a step forward, off his glistening structure, and the man froze.

“Virgil?” 

Colors swarmed his brain. They stung him like wasps, over and over again.

“Virgil! You nearly gave your ole pops a heartattack!”

“Terrifying?! I think it’d be terrific, Virgil!”

“Virgil, I assure you that there is a minimal chance of this resulting in a fatal injury.”

“Hey Dr. Gloom, it’s time for your daily vibe check up!”

“Virgil!”

He startled, finding his willowy limbs wrapped around the man. Almost tight enough to constrict the man’s breathing. Yet the man didn’t look panicked. A strange emotion flitted across the man’s face. Not cold or calculating. No, something was wrong with the man’s eyes. They leaked out fluid of some sort.

He looked closer, noticing something even more peculiar. The man wasn’t human. Not completely. Reptilian scales covered the man’s left side. One of the man’s eyes had a slitted pupil. The man was…like him. This was a test. Of course. They wanted to see how two specimens would react put together.

He growled, flashing his fangs in the man’s face. An intimidation tactic, one to show he held the upper hand in this situation. This invoked an odd stifled noise from the other. Perhaps one of fear?

But then the man spoke, and his words didn’t make sense to him. 

“They thought they could get away with this?”

The man sounded angry. Like the scientists when they threatened him with termination. Anger meant only bad things for him. He shook, unsure to attack or flee from the man. Would attack be the best option? Or would they be upset if he wounded an experiment of theirs?

Something soft brushed against the side of his face. A yellow gloved hand.

“Things are going to be okay now.” The man said, the words as soft as his silk.

He didn’t believe him.

“S-s-snake.” He hissed, eyes lightening with alarm at the action. They didn’t like him talking back. They’d rather him growl and snarl then speak words of defiance. Talking back meant punishment.

The man chuckled, clear liquid streaming down his cheeks, “I see you’re still one for creative insults.”

“You snake!” 

“What? It’s not my fault you have a terrible pokerface.” 

The man. The one from his dreams. With the bowler hat and old fashioned cane. 

“You,” He gasped, “y-y-you’re real?”

“Yes–” The man began, but it was all he needed to hear. 

A loud, guttural cry escaped his lips and he sagged against the man. Soon droplets of the clear liquid escaped his eyes as well. The man gathered his trembling form in his arms, gentle and secure.

“I’m here,” The man said, jaw clenched tightly, “and I’m never letting them hurt you again.”

And it was so.