Chapter Text
In hindsight, they should've known it was a bad idea. When isn't it one? Who the hell provokes a Scarecrow and expects no consequence?
The van shakes side to side as it speeds over bumpy terrain—the windows revealing just how fast their surroundings are going by.
"I have someone who will love to meet you." The man in the front seat shouts to them.
"... Why?"
The man shakes his head. "You'll see. He's a kooky man, but he's promising."
The building is huge, and BL/ind's logo is on the front but.. slightly different.
"Come with me." The man—who must be mid-thirties or older, considering the greying in his beard—beckons them to follow, and for whatever reason they follow.
Maybe it's curiosity that inclined them to follow him through the building, but once they're hit with a pungent stench they worry about being the cat curiosity killed.
Inside the room it looks like a dog pound. Metal cages line the hall, going as far as they can see before it's too dark.
Groans of agony and animalistic growls alike reach their ears—making the hair on the back of their neck stand up.
They take in the entire room. Even the stench of fresh blood, the sound of horrible screams, and the claw marks in the floor.
"What is this..?"
The doctor in front of them stops moving forward. "Do you want to see my work?"
They know well enough they look afraid, but instead of shoving the man away to make a run for it, they nod hesitantly. "Yes."
The man nods, and begins to walk again.
Nothing could have prepared them for just how much more pungent the stench is as they proceed, and definitely not for what they see inside the cages.
Eyes stare back at them, their pupils dilated—perhaps in fear, and some shove clawed hands out between the bars, reaching for them.
No..
They reach for the doctor, the fear turning into anger and resentment. So much so they're unsure how an animal feels an emotion so strongly.
Others shove coyote-like snouts in between the metal, their cries made louder as they echo throughout the hall.
"... Do you experiment on animals?" They ask, afraid of what the answer may be.
There's a breath—possibly a laugh—from the man, and he turns around to face them. There's a large, proud smile on his face as he holds his arms out to gesture at the monsters.
"They were all human, like you. Isn't this beautiful?"
The monsters scream in agony anger, their attempts to tear this heartless man apart only growing stronger as he says this.
"Shut them up." He barks at an armed guard, and they wonder if he's trying to frighten them even more.
"Yes, sir." The guard locks eyes with one of the monsters, his hands almost trembling as he raises the barrel of his gun to align with its head.
The monster doesn't try to move away before it goes off, and they fall forward.
Bloody.
"Oh fuck.." Party mumbles, a hand over their mouth as their stomach churns at the sight. Every other scream quietens down until it's dead silent—and they can see the eyes of former humans, possibly even former citizens, look at them in fear.
"That's been taken care of. Now, shall we continue?" He smiles, and they can finally read the man's name tag. The handwriting is neat, spelling out "Dr. Bowman".
"Yes.. please." In case the Witch can reach them here, they pray that whatever is past this prison of horrific experimentation is better and less gruesome.
"Good. Let's move on." Dr. Bowman turns on his heel and continues down the hall, the eyes all following him like they're seeing through him. Staring instead at the things he's done to them.
These people.. some could've seemed younger than them just based on the glint of hope in their eyes as they watch them.
Those ones don't focus on the man who hurt them this way, but instead on the person they pray will set them free.
"Hurry along. These monsters have nothing of importance the way we do."
"I'm coming." They take a quicker pace, just wanting to leave this place.
The next door creaks under the weight of Dr. Bowman shoving it open. As they walk, it feels like his composure seems to melt away into a strange elatedness.. like this is his dream come true, rather than a nightmare that would wake someone up in a cold sweat.
"Why..?"
He cuts them off before any more of the question can be asked. "Because I'm helping people. Do you know what happens when you mix together DNA from different desert animals?
They swallow hard. "What happens?"
"Well.." He smiles wider—almost ear to ear at this point. "You get a bio-weapon that's made to withstand the harshness of the desert killjoys like you live in."
"What?"
Dr. Bowman sighs, seemingly taking that as a wrong answer. "You don't get it, do you?" He wipes his gloved hands against his coat, like he's wiping figurative blood off his hands, then beckons them again. "Follow."
Without saying a word, they follow this man again. They know they shouldn't. They know they should run away. But they don't want the same fate as the monster they'd watched get murdered.
"Look around, now."
Party does so, now seeing the flat tables that surgeries are done on. There's dry blood on most, like sanitation isn't a priority. Or maybe there were more people made into monsters. Bio-weapons.
"What's-" They're cut off by someone grabbing the back of their shirt and shoving them towards a table. A table rattles on its wheels as it's pushed toward the table as well. Metal tools clink together when it stops abruptly.
"Did you think this was just a generosity? Just a simple tour of my department? I thought you were smarter than that." He grabs a scalpel, and a syringe of something they can't identify. "No one gets to leave to tell others what they've seen. Lie down."
Party shakes their head and tries to fight back, but they're pinned to the operating table—leather straps keeping their arms and legs down. "Let me go!"
"That's not in my plans for you. Don't worry, this'll be over soon."