Chapter Text
There is screaming coming from inside the lab.
Well, Tubbo thinks, screaming is the wrong word. He’s never been very good with words in general, but precision is important, and this is certainly not a human scream. It’s, echoey, ethereal-- no not quite. What’s the word? Eldritch.
Which is of course, ridiculous. Tubbo is a man of science. Of logic. He doesn’t believe in monsters.
But still-- there is the screaming.
It’s Friday, which means paperwork. As he clicks his way through fourteen pages of basic lab reports and sorts files, he tries to reason it out. Maybe it’s a piece of machinery. Maybe it’s a recording of some kind. In half an hour, the screaming is gone, but Tubbo’s hands are shaking a little as he files away the last few bits of paper, and submits the reports to the company website. He gathers up a clipboard and pen and shoulders his way into the main lab. It’s not busy in here, except for the hum of various projects and computers scattered across the long too-bright room. Everything here is white; floors and walls and ceilings, the smart lab coat Tubbo wears. He’s proud of the coat; DreamTech doesn’t take many interns, and he’s younger than most. It’s even got the company logo and his name embroidered on the front. It’s smart, professional. It makes him feel like a real scientist.
“Mr. Underscore,” says a voice behind him. He jumps, and almost drops the clipboard. “I assume that’s for me?”
He turns. There he is, the head scientist himself, Dr. Clay. He’s wearing a white surgical mask (Tubbo’s never seen him without it) and it makes him look as blank as the rest of the facility. The only thing that creeps through is his eyes, quiet and green. Tubbo avoids looking at them. “Yes! Uh, yes sir,” he shuffles over the clipboard and lets Dr. Clay flip through it, sign his name on the appropriate documents.
“Good job,” the Doctor says and Tubbo feels himself swell with the praise. “At this rate, you’ll be doing proper lab work next week.”
“Yes sir, ” Tubbo babbles, trying not to let his delight slip through and break his attempt at professionality. He’s going to say something else when he hears it again. That scream, the one that makes the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. It’s coming from the far end of the lab, through the door marked authorized employees only.
Dr. Clay doesn’t look startled. He’s just annoyed, judging from the set of his eyes, and that exasperated sign. “Are they starting without me? Dammit. Sorry kid. Have a good weekend.” He claps a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder and briskly walks over to the far door, scans his badges, and slips in. Tubbo catches the sheen of something-- glass?-- and it is slamming shut.
*****
He dreams about the sound. In the dream, he’s doing something with one of the large holographic monitors on the far side of the lab, when the screaming starts again.
I know that voice, he thinks, even though he doesn't, and without meaning to he’s walking over to that steel door. He doesn’t even have to scan his badge, he just slips through and stares.
There’s a glass box, and in the glass box is a mouth, and the mouth is screaming and screaming and--
Tubbo wakes up gasping. Fuck. He checks his phone-- 3:36 AM. “ Fuck. ”
Tommy’s online. He sends him a DM.
Tubbo: What’s up bug man?
Tubbo: *big man
Tommy: BUG MAN??????
Tommy: Playinj Minecrft whats up
Tubbo: i had a nitemare
Tubbo: something wierd happened at the lab
Tubbo: Somethinh is hirt
Tubbo: hurt
Tommy: ???????
Tubbo: Forget it
He drops his phone on his chest and blinks away the echoes of light behind his eyes.
When Dr. Clay had welcomed the new interns he’d given a speech. Tubbo had lost interest halfway through but he remembered the beginning. If he was into tattoos he’d probably gotten it as one. It’s not a degree that makes us scientists, he’d said. It’s not age or experience. It’s not even brains, though they certainly help. He’d paused for the appropriate amount of laughter. It’s curiosity. Being a scientist simply means wanting. Wanting to explore all those nooks and crannies of the universe, having the drive to do whatever it takes to find those answers.
Tubbo has never forgotten.
And so, next Monday, he repeats having the drive to do whatever it takes to find those answers, to himself as he swipes Dr. Notfound’s keycard as he’s leaving the building for the evening.
Having the drive to do whatever it takes to find those answers, he tells himself as he wakes up at five in the morning on Tuesday and takes the tube to the DreamTech Genetics Lab. It’s dead empty, except for the security guard at the desk who only gives him a passing glance. The lights, motion-activated follow him into the lab.
Fuck the law, he tells himself, as he walks in, white coat and tennis shoes, and uses Dr. Notfound’s card to go scan through the door marked “authorized employees only” I’m a scientist.
If he gets caught, he’ll be screwed. But.
But Tubbo and curiosity go hand in hand.
He can practically hear Lani scolding curiosity killed the cat.
“Yeah, but satisfaction brought it back,” he says and walks through.
The first thing he notices is that it’s not a very big room, only a fraction of the size of the lab. There’s a bunch of computers, and papers and x-ray prints and something Tubbo thinks are from CAT scans, all pinned up on a whiteboard on one wall.
That’s not the most striking thing here, though. What’s really interesting is that, on the far wall, there’s a shade, like the kind of canvas thing you’d pull over a window. There’s some kind of technical set-up there, a microphone and a few buttons. Beside that is a door, heavy steel.
He remembers the noise and the screaming mouth, lips, and too-large teeth, and almost backs out of the room.
But he has to know.
He steps across the room, and tugs at the shade.
It springs up and reveals a window of vaguely tinted glass and a room beyond. It’s even smaller than this one, square, with white-tile walls and a concrete floor. There’s a bench on one wall and a toilet on the other, and otherwise, it’s barren. It reminds Tubbo uncomfortably of a prison cell.
Except for--something. A bundle of black cloth and- hair? It’s in the corner, looking disturbingly like a pile of abandoned laundry. Feeling like a curious kid at the zoo, he taps the glass. Once, twice.
The bundle startles and sits up and Tubbo jumps because it’s a person. Except that’s not right either. The-- person?-- isn’t like anything he’s seen before, not even in a movie. Half the face is white, barren, bone-white, and the other is the color of ink, mottled oddly together. The hair, long and shaggy, is the same. And the eyes-- they’re like spotlights, one red and one green.
“What the hell?” Tubbo says.
The creature is staring, curling farther back into a corner. They’re wearing a suit of all things, though it’s ridiculously wrinkled and the coat is torn. There’s something gleaming around the neck, halfway hidden as the figure hunches his shoulders. Their eyes dark back and forth across the window, looking-- and of course, it’s one way. Whatever this is can’t see Tubbo, probably can’t hear him either.
Get out, he thinks, and then I gotta know.
He pushes the button next to the microphone and says, “hey.” They jump again and Tubbo almost laughs. “Sorry I wasn’t trying to, uh, scare you. But. Uh. Hi?”
They look up, hesitate, eyes sweeping, searching for him.
“Sorry, you can’t see me. I didn’t mean to wake you up or anything. I just-- oh shit, I’d better keep it down, if they find me here I’m fucking screwed.”
And the creature looks at him and says in a voice that is just a little more than a whisper, “I- who are you? ”
The creature can talk. The creature has a low voice, a pleasant rumble to it. The creature sounds young. The creature has an accent that sounds like--
“You’re American?” They- he?- stands up from the corner. “And oh my god you’re freakishly tall.”
“Yeah, I’m American. What else-- wait where am I?
“London, dude?”
A step forward. God, those legs are literally almost as tall as Tubbo himself. “Like, London, England? That London?”
“Yes? Wait did you not know where you were?”
The creature stiffens suddenly. “Is the doctor--”
“It’s just me,” Tubbo says quickly. “For now. I, uh, snuck in.”
“Who are you?”
He clears his throat, hesitates. He’d heard somewhere that you should tell fairies your true name or they’d...steal it? Or something like that. He wasn’t sure if the same rules applied to odd American monsters who looked vaguely like a package of oreos at a funeral, but better safe than sorry. “I’m Tubbo. I’m like, a summer intern. I--” he pauses and remembers why he’s here at all. “You were screaming. Last week. I heard you. That why--” he pauses, not sure how to rationalize what he’s done to stand here.
He watches as the-- the creature? The boy? reaches up and brushes his hand against the shiny silver thing around his neck. He’s closer now, halfway across the tiny room and Tubbo can see it’s a collar, thick and of some bright metal. There are a couple of blinking lights. It looks like it’s been pulled straight out of a sci-fi, but then again, so does this whole scenario.
The boy doesn’t say anything though, just takes another soft step forward. His feet aren’t normal either, tall, and padded. His ears are weird too actually. It’s unsettling, but the longer Tubbo stares the more familiar it feels. He doesn’t look dangerous. Just...strange.
He feels something heavy and uncomfortable settling between his ribs. He doesn’t have words for it. He’s never been good at the words. “You got a name?”
Too wide eyes, green and red. “I-- I’m Ranboo. Tubbo,” he says, and his voice drops another octave low and urgent. “Can you tell me the date?”
Tubbo checks his phone. “It’s April fifth.”
“Oh.” he looks away, hands clenched together. He’s breathing funny.
“Wait how long have you been here?”
“I--”
There’s a noise behind Tubbo. The ambient chime of a keycard being swiped. Of a door opening.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck--
“Mr. Underscore,” Dr. Clay says, perfectly calm, practically cheerful. “Could we talk for a moment?”