Chapter Text
Tubbo woke up early that morning. He was nervous, so he picked out his favourite socks and that extra-comfortable long-sleeve shirt with fat yellow and dark brown stripes. He went to shower, carefully undoing the bandage on his arm as he undressed. The markings were clear, like little red sharkbites by his wrist. They still looked raw. It’d be best to re-bandage them after he’d washed. He didn't take the large band-aid off his face before he stepped into the shower, instead letting the waterstream soften the glue that bound it to his skin, then carefully peeling it off.
After he’d washed and re-dressed, he applied some wound cream to the gashes on his arm and wrapped it back up in gauze to keep it clean. Then he stepped to the mirror. The slash on his cheek had healed, mostly. It wasn’t easy to spot the row of thin lines in between the burn scars anyway.
A cloudless New Years Eve. Technoblade striking a match and holding it out for him, lighting the little sparkle stick clutched between his fingers. Wilbur and Tommy waving theirs around, shouting about magic wands. Watching, wide-eyed and grinning, as the sparks shot out of the grey thing, showering his hand in golden light.
“No way you’ll stay awake until midnight!”
“Yeah I will!”
“Boys, boys. If you won't stop running around I’ll send you inside.”
“No!” “NO!”
“Then behave. And stand back a little, okay?”
Crunching of snow underneath heavy boots, rockets stuck upright to the ground. Hissing of a lit fuse.
Then. Snow a little too soft, thin, shallow, who knows. A lone firework rocket slowly beginning to tilt.
And the snap judgement of a child.
“I got it!”
“Tubbo, NO-!”
Red, white, blue.
Tommy had blamed Technoblade for it. It was his rocket, his duty to watch the children. He’d shouted and cried and hit Technoblade where he could reach until he’d tried himself out. Later on, with perspective given by age, Tubbo thought that maybe deep down Tommy blamed himself. If he and Wilbur had been calm and well behaved, then the adults would have had their eyes on the rockets. What Wilbur thought, that was anyone's guess.
Phil had said it wasn’t anyone’s fault, that it was an accident, and Tubbo had agreed. Tubbo had told Technoblade that he didn't blame him, which had made Tommy twice as furious.
Not that any of it really mattered, when all was said and done. Tubbo had gotten so used to the burn scars he barely even felt the eyes on his neck anymore, staring, questioning. Not much he could do, aside from dutifully applying skin cream every morning and evening, and turning up the music in his headphones each New Years Eve.
~~~
“Your specific duties will vary from day to day”, Draven explained as he led Tubbo through the biology wing corridors. “You will be installing devices to aid with experimentation, as well as improve safety mechanisms. We have done our best to keep the asset secure, but evidently the effort has not been sufficient.”
Draven stopped in front of a larger, metal door. It didn’t have the regular electronic lock. No, that lock was placed on a couch that stood along the corridor wall, wires spilling out and plastic casing marred with all too familiar scratch marks.
“I do wonder which will happen first: the lock being replaced or your key access being upgraded”, Draven said with a stiff sort of smile, and it took a couple of seconds for Tubbo to realize it had been meant to be a joke.
“Haha.” It wasn't a convincing laugh, but Tubbo forced it out anyway. Draven sighed, and pulled the door open.
“Good morning, Dr. Draven!” A woman explained, and Tubbo recognized her from a few days ago: she was the one who’d bandaged him. “Oh! And good morning to you too, our newest member!”
She offered her hand for Tubbo to shake.
“Ms. Judy O’hara- soon-to-be doctor, though, if everything goes well!”
“Should you need aid during your orientation, I am certain Judy will be more than happy to give you assistance”, Draven said, and she nodded vigorously. “Where is Ernest?”
As if summoned by his name being called, a man emerged from a side room. He was the last of the scientists Tubbo had seen the day of the incident.
“H-hello. Ernest Bayer. N-nice to meet you.” He didn't approach close enough to shake hands, giving a small wave instead.
“This is Toby Soot, the intern I spoke of yesterday. I expect you two to guide him well in his new position”, Draven said.
“You guys can call me Tubbo, actually”, Tubbo corrected, and for a moment, Draven pursed his lips into a line.
“Honestly, literally everyone calls me Tubbo. It’s like, if you say ‘Toby’, I might not even get that you’re talking to me.”
“Alright then. Welcome aboard, Tubbo!” Judy said cheerfully.
Tubbo smiled. Being called Toby was something he wanted to nip at the bud.
After the introductions to the small team, Draven dumped Tubbo on Judy and went to do things more important than shepherding an intern. He got a brief tour of the facilities. There was an office type study with desks (one of which Tubbo claimed as his spot), computers, and a small bookshelf. The break room had a small kitchenette. However, it was much better equipped than a standard break room: in addition to the microwave, fridge, coffee machine and dishwasher, there was a small stove top and a collection of pots and pans.
“We need to make the feed for the asset ourselves, it's more precise control on the nutrients that we’d get with just pet food”, Judy explained. “Oh, and the top shelf of the fridge is reserved for human food, put your lunch there so it doesn't get mixed up with the other stuff.”
After that, the rooms began to differ significantly to what Tubbo was used to in the energy technologies wing. There was a large room with an operating table and other medical equipment, quite similar to what hospitals had. Adjacent to it was a proper laboratory, and a storage room with all sorts of machinery that got Tubbo excited. Observers, dispensers, repeaters, comparators- as well as ample wiring materials. Oh yes, he’d be able to make all sorts of contraptions with these.
Lastly, he was brought into the asset room. It was by far the largest, with some more lab equipment crammed to the side, a paper-covered desk, and a whirring computer. Draven was also there, making notes on some dials and meters installed into the wall. However, the rest of the room’s space was dominated by a brightly lit glass box, big enough to count as a small room itself. And in that box, curled up on a thin mattress, was the creature.
It looked as Tubbo remembered it, for the most part, messy long mane and wrinkled hospital gown and all. It’s eyes were closed, suggesting it might be asleep. However, it’s tail was slowly sweeping along the floor, back and forth, so Tubbo wasn’t sure.
What he was sure hadn't been there the last time was a thick collar around its neck, metal and plastic intertwined with synthetic fabric, a small led light glowing green. The collar was attached to a sturdy chain, the other end bolted to the floor.
Tubbo cautiously approached the box. He could see scratch marks on the inside of the glass, matching the one on his cheek. He gripped his arm, and only a moment later realized it was the bandaged one.
“Do not worry. That is ballistic glass”, Draven said unprompted. “It would have a better chance of breaking through a brick wall.”
“How’d it get out last time?” Tubbo asked quietly.
The moment Tubbo spoke, the creature's eyes flew open, and immediately fixated on him. It pushed itself into a sitting position of sorts, and Tubbo could practically feel it’s steady gaze looking him over. A shiver ran up his spine, he had an odd feeling, like he was being estimated. Judged .
For a heartbeat, their eyes met. The creature bared its teeth and hissed, before it’s gaze swiveled elsewhere.
“It managed to get through the door while it was open. Hence the new security measure of the chain; it’s short enough that it can’t even reach the door”, Draven explained.
“Could just build an airlock style door. Never have an open barrier, y’know?”, Tubbo said.
“Look at you, already earning your keep”, Draven said with a small smile.
“Should put in a mechanism that only one door can be open at a time”, Tubbo said, mostly to himself. “Airlock doors are pretty standard if you want to keep something in.”
(That was a trick he’d learned watching over Wilbur’s shoulder as he played The Sims. Wilbur’s houses had always seemed to end up with a painting dungeon or some such within an hour of starting a new family.
“It’s fun to watch them be sad”, Wilbur had said once. A little tidbit Tubbo promptly told Phil about, who then decided Wilbur had had more than enough computer time for the day and kicked him off the shared PC. And then Tubbo had gotten to play Civilization all afternoon. Hehe.)
“We had actually planned for you to install a toggle to the sprinkler mechanism”, Draven said. “The asset hates water. Should it breach confinement, activating the sprinklers should force it to retreat back to the cage. Speaking of-”
Draven strided to a cupboard, and took out a small spray bottle. “Here. You should have one with you at all times. Light sprizing shouldn’t damage the asset, but it will deter it from attacking you.”
“Oookay?” Tubbo took the spray bottle, and wondered where to put it.
“...I know, it looks a little silly”, Draven admitted. “But over-caution rather than under-caution.”
“Doctor Draven?” Judy piped up. “Has it gotten breakfast yet? I thought Tubbo could do that, y’know, so that-”
“It forms a positive association to him? Yes, that is not a bad idea”, Draven finished her sentence. “Unfortunately Ernest fed it already- although I suppose an extra treat wouldn’t do any harm.”
Draven gestured towards a cupboard. “There are apples in there. Take one and mark it on the nutritional sheet.”
Tubbo did as he was told, picking out a nice, juicy red apple. There was a hatch of sorts in the wall of the glass box, the kind that was closed on one side and open on another. Tubbo squatted down, popped the apple in the hatch and shut it, opening the inner side.
“Here you go, Ranboo”, Tubbo said. “Tasty, tasty.”
The creature went over to the hatch, it’s movements reminiscent of a cat, or one of those small, dexterous monkeys. Tubbo could see it hesitate, glancing back and forth between him and the apple. After a moment, it slowly picked up the apple and sniffed it. Then it began to eat, holding the apple with both hands, like a squirrel. Tubbo saw flashes of those sharp teeth, effortlessly cutting into the fruit.
“Ranboo?”
“Oh, yeah-” Tubbo stood back upright. “It’s just- Rainbow, Ranboo. And the project is about him, isn’t it? Though- what have you been calling him?”
“ It is referred to as the asset”, Draven said, cool and adamant. “And you should do well to do the same.”
“What?” Tubbo furrowed his brow. “You’ve had him for, how long? And you haven't even given him a nickname?”
Draven gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s- of course, you’re not of the field, you are unfamiliar with proper form. Allow me to explain. When conducting this kind of research, it is of vital importance not to anthropomorphize the subject, as it will inevitably create mistakes in the data. Say, if one were to offer the asset a plate of food and it refuse to eat, a poor scientist could draw the conclusion that the sudden hunger strike is due to spite, a mean-spirited action towards him specifically. He might not consider that the asset is perhaps ill, or that the food offered isn’t suitable to its diet.”
“As a more personal example-” Draven gestured to Tubbo’s arm. “You were bitten because of the survival instinct of a panicked animal, not due to malice. It’s not capable of malice. It’s not intelligent enough for that.”
Judy nodded along. “Keeping a professional detachment is important in all fields that handle living things, be it bacteria or xenofauna.”
“Alright, alright”, Tubbo said placatingly. “I didn’t think naming him was that big of a deal.”
He glanced at the creature, who was at the moment eating straight through the apple core. Tubbo was a little impressed on how cleanly it ate, no pulp or juice staining the gown it was wearing.
Tubbo furrowed his brow. “Why’s he got a hospital gown? You talk big about not humanizing animals, so why is he dressed?”
“That is a remnant from the previous team”, Judy explained. “It was given when it’s nature was still questionable, and now he throws a fit any time we try to take it away. At this point, it’s just easier to let him keep it. My theory is that it finds the sensation of fabric comforting- Although Ernest thinks it’s an attempt to wear armor.”
“Do not be thrown off by it. Zombies and skeletons will wear clothing, but that is merely instinctual. And mobs for certain aren't intelligent, let alone have human sentience”, Draven stated.
That was true. They didn't get mobs in the city, but they sometimes showed up by Technoblade’s cabin. Tubbo remembered his first time seeing a giant spider- and how Techno had casually sunk an axe right into its head. It’d been really badass.
“I’m not really surprised he wants to keep the gown. It’s not exactly hot in here- and he doesn't even have a blanket”, Tubbo said, mostly to himself.
“Why do you keep referring to the asset with male personal pronouns?” Draven asked, voice sharp.
“Is he not a boy, then?”
“We don’t know, really”, Judy interjected apologetically. “From what we know of endermen, despite the name, they don’t really fit into a male-female gender binary. Same applies to him- I mean, it.”
“And ‘it’ is the grammatically correct gender neutral third person singular pronoun.” Draven was visibly annoyed. “Why are you assigning it male?”
Tubbo shrugged. “Vibes?”
Draven looked at him blankly, for a moment. “You made the right choice pursuing technical sciences”, he said, and Tubbo felt like it was some sort of insult but heck if he knew what kind.
“Hey, hey, it’s a bit early, but maybe we should have a lunch break?” Judy said suddenly, tone a little too cheerful for the tenseness hanging in the air.
“...I don’t think I will be joining you at this time, but you two go on ahead and eat something. Afterwards, Toby can properly start work”, Draven said.
“Sure, sure”, Tubbo nodded. As they left the room he turned his head. The creature had finished eating and returned to sit on the mattress, looking after them as they went.
Tubbo gave a little wave. “Bye, Ranboo!”
Draven gave an annoyed huff but didn’t say anything, and Tubbo grinned to himself. So much fuss about not naming the research subject, but somehow not able to remember Tubbo didn’t want to be called Toby? Oh yes, the creature was Ranboo now.
The microwave beeped in the background as Tubbo retrieved his lunch from the fridge. The science centre did have a cafeteria, but it was closed for the summer as most of the people were on vacation. Tubbo had brought food from home his whole internship.
Ernest settled across him on the break room table with a sad microwave meal, while Judy sat next to him with a salad. Tubbo unpacked the little brown paper bag that contained his lunch, pulling out a hearty sandwich, an orange, a single chocolate chip cookie- and a little paper crane folded out of blue paper.
Tubbo smiled at the crane, and placed it on the table in front of himself.
“What’s th-that?” Ernest asked.
“Wilbur -that’s my older brother- puts them in our lunches sometimes. It’s like a good luck wish”, Tubbo explained. “He didn't get hired anywhere, so he decided his summer job would be ‘housewife’.” It was mostly true.
“Y-you have a brother?”
“Yeah, two. Wilbur’s the oldest, and Tommy and I are within a year of each other.” That was their best estimate at least. Who knew when Tubbo’s actual birthday was.
“I’m sure your mother appreciates the help around the house”, Judy said.
“We don’t have a mom.” Tubbo took a bite out of his sandwich.
An awkward silence, all but palpable, descended in the room.
Tubbo chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of water. Then he parroted his well-rehearsed spiel.
“So. Phil’s our dad. Wilbur’s mom died when he was a baby, and then Tommy and I were adopted. We were adopted separately from each other, though: Phil and Wilbur are the only ones blood related. And that’s why I usually call my dad by his first name.”
“O-o-o-oh...”
Tubbo ate another bite. “It’s super weird how much people freak out when a kid calls their parents by name. Seriously, it’s a stronger reaction than a kid swearing.”
“Haha, yes, it is kinda weird”, Judy said, the awkward tension slowly easing off. “So, why don’t you tell us a little about your studies?”
The conversation eased into regular small talk. Tubbo learned that Judy liked gardening, and that Ernest went swimming at least twice a week, and other such bits and pieces one learns when forced to make acquaintance quickly with people one doesn’t have that much in common with. Ernest was pretty withdrawn and Judy overbearingly motherly, but they were both decent enough people, and Tubbo had the feeling they’d get along just fine. The two were much more enjoyable company than Draven, that much was already clear.
~~~
There was a new one.
Not a White Coat, or a Green With Armor. The new one was with the White Coats, though, trailing after Rabbit, obeying Phantom. Maybe he’d get a coat later.
The new one was younger than all the others. Not that much shorter, but definitely younger, he could tell. That was good. Turtle could pin him down with pure body weight, but the new one? Unlikely. He’d be able to fight his way past the new one if it were to come to that.
He was curious about the scars. They splashed across his face, his cheek, maring the skin. Maybe that was what water burns looked like on humans? The pattern matched, roughly.
The new one returned (as White Coats always eventually returned) with tools and machine things. He didn’t approach the cell again, which was nice. He didn’t try to interact with him at all, just glanced at him every now and again. The looks made him uneasy, even if their eyes didn't meet again. He wished he’d stop. He wished they’d all just stop boring their gazes into him, stop staring , stop grating and dissecting and suffocating him with their eyes-
He settled on his bedding, arms wrapped around himself, and quietly observed from behind the thin veil of his overgrown hair. The new one dashed around the room, climbed ladders to tinker with the ceiling, sleeves of the yellow-brown striped sweater rolled back.
Bee , he decided. It fit well enough.
He didn’t quite know how he felt about the team growing. It was novel, at least, to watch and listen to someone new. But in his experience so far, things rarely changed for the better.
He laid down, turned his back towards the outside, and closed his eyes. He might as well rest while he waited for whatever fresh hell Bee would bring upon him.