Chapter Text
Harley was tired.
He was really tired. The day had started out badly: endless reports, a meeting, and a results analysis. Thank goodness they hadn't forced him to perform an operation between sunset and sunrise. If there had been any alternative, he would have left the facility.
However, he had to continue working. Even after an hour-long brainstorming session with Leith, and after answering a thousand questions from Preston. The only remaining task was to talk to the most uncooperative experiment in the facility.
- The tin can hasn't shown any signs of life for a couple of days, - Dr. White remarked with a nervous chuckle, making sure the microphone was turned off and the experiment couldn't hear them. His anger could be quite... destructive. - Maybe it's finally dead.
- That's not possible, - Harley snorted, adjusting his glasses. - He's just biding his time.
The room was quiet and dark behind the large glass window. Only two of the six light bulbs were functioning, as the Prototype had knocked out the rest a couple of months ago. Replacing them was inconvenient and dangerous, so Harley had simply given up and let the experiment stay in the dark if that's what it wanted.
However, 1006 had been quiet for the past few days. If Harley didn't know better, he would have assumed the experiment had finally accepted its fate. It was a shame, as 1006 could have been a valuable asset to the factory.
- It's amazing how a creature as large as this can hide so well, - White muttered, squinting to make out any part of the experiment. - It was originally a Jack-in-the-Box, wasn't it? Whoever decided to attach arms to it must have thought it was a great idea.
Harley sighed. Bruno White was a talented young scientist, but he sometimes asked too many questions.
Nothing. Maybe one day Sawyer will turn him into a real scientist.
- Pierre ordered it so that he could help in the lab or the factory like the others, - Harley replied dryly. - Well, after he managed to tear himself away from his box.
- And things didn't go according to plan?
- As you can see.
White nodded and fell silent. Sawyer looked at his desk. The "creative" mess followed him to almost every workplace (except the operating room), and this one was no exception. Now, in addition to the transcripts of conversations with 1006, there were other papers scattered about. In theory, some of them could be useful in establishing contact with the Prototype. No... Knowing him, they definitely would be.
Harley turned on the microphone.
- So... The entry code is 24469. Experiment 1006, the Prototype... Still silent and motionless. Refusing food and water... Physical indicators are normal... - After clearing his throat, he raised his voice slightly. - Um... 1006, do you have anything to say? - After setting aside the template sheet, Sawyer looked up at the glass. Somewhere in the darkness, he was hiding. The Prototype was listening and observing. Remembering. Harley knew this. He remembered how the experiment had promised to study the doctor in return. It wasn't that the threat was tangible... More like curious.
- Let's do this, - Sawyer said, rummaging through the notes he had brought with him. These weren't standardized reports; rather, they were observations that the doctor had made for himself. Behavioral analyses were interspersed with Harley's personal thoughts, complaints about colleagues, or more mundane matters. It was a mix of diverse topics. - I'll read you about 1007's progress, and you'll talk to me. Okay?
There was a moment of silence. White, still not fully aware of the drama that had unfolded here, cast a questioning glance at Sawyer, but he didn't pay attention. For a moment, he thought that the Prototype had put his pride above "her." But no...
- OK. - a familiar voice rasped from the darkness. White, who hadn't expected this, gave a slight start, and Harley barely suppressed a chuckle. Just as he had thought.
Well...
"March 2.
Out of curiosity, I visited 1007 today. The experiment still refuses to talk to me or the other scientists. When she doesn't know she's being watched, she acts like a normal little girl (Note: she seems to enjoy drawing. I've caught her several times painting the walls of her cell with markers. I've given her paper, and she no longer touches the walls).
I've asked her again what she thinks about the other experiments, the lab staff, the department heads, or the children from the orphanage. Almost all the names don't elicit any reaction or cause a slight aversion (I haven't mentioned my own name). Elliot is an exception. Despite her reluctance to engage in meaningful dialogue, the name of the founder causes her to become slightly upset, attentive, or calmer, depending on her initial mood. It seems that she cherishes any memories of him. Interestingly, she doesn't react to "Oliver."
After finishing reading the excerpt, Sawyer frowned slightly. He didn't like thinking about Elliot. Both the doll and the jester were living (or not-so-living) reminders of him, but in the case of the Prototype, this feeling had almost faded. As for Poppy... Perhaps it was because she resembled him enough even in life, at least according to the photographs. As a result, Harley tried to visit her less often.
1006 remained silent, probably contemplating what he had heard. It's unlikely that he gained much new information, but Sawyer knew that the jester was grateful for even this indirect contact with 1007. It was an astonishing, almost charming form of affection.
Taking advantage of the fact that neither White nor the experiment was in a hurry to speak, Harley returned to the piece of paper. The information was not intended for their ears, but he found it interesting to reread what he had written. After all, these notes were a valuable tool for tracking the progress or decline of someone's thinking.
"...About the Prototype.
He's silent again. I understand why, but he should also understand that we have ways to make him talk. Although I don't want to use the stun gun, as Leith always gets angry when it breaks. It's expensive to fix, you see.
Today, 1006 finally opened his mouth. He ignored everything I said and asked, but just before I left, he asked what day it was. When I replied, 1006 muttered that it was "her" birthday soon. I'm not sure who he's referring to, but I have some suspicions.
Note: Quinn asked me to read a book with him in the evening. I should take him for a walk outdoors on the weekend."
As he read the last lines, the man almost choked on his own surprise. He had almost forgotten about his habit of writing down everything, whether it was personal or work-related. It was a good thing that these notes wouldn't be used later, and that White couldn't see them. The latter was engrossed in the movement behind the glass, as 1006 finally began to move.
- So what? - After blinking away the extra information, the doctor refocused on his work. Or at least pretended to. - Shall we chat?
1006 approached. Due to his size, every movement was quite noisy and eerie. Even in the dim light, Harley could see him a little better. It was the same as always. The same yellow, hate-filled, ring-shaped pupils, the same ugly mask, and the same unnatural needle-like fingers. There was nothing new.
- What do you... want to talk about? - Despite their different voices and intonations, the Prototype's words carried a sense of exhaustion.
- About you. About your feelings. What did you feel when we applied... How many?... Fifty thousand volts last time?
- ...Pain? - 1006 replied uninterestedly, almost defiantly turning his head towards the wall. - Nothing unusual.
Sawyer rubbed the bridge of his nose. Yes, it was clear that this was Ludwig. Unshakable stubbornness is a distinctive feature of their family. All three of them.
You could just give up and use a stun gun. Or fire. Or any other subject of intimidation. But for once, Sawyer wanted to try cooperation instead of coercion. They say it sometimes yields better results.
- Okay, I get it... - With his head down, Harley began to rummage through the papers. There were only a few desired records about 1007, but the Prototype wouldn't be interested in anything else. And Sawyer had plans to achieve at least some results today.
Help came from an unexpected source. Bruno, who had been standing quietly to the side, suddenly approached. He held an office tablet with a child's drawing attached to it. It seemed to be a poppy flower or something similar. Sawyer didn't need an explanation to understand.
- You'll get it if you answer the questions. - White said firmly, holding the tablet up for the experiment to see.
The Prototype bowed his head. Then, with a flick of his mask, he swiftly lunged towards the glass. There was an unpleasant sound as the experiment's "fingers" scraped against the surface. It was perhaps the only display of strength he could afford. Sawyer didn't even flinch, as everyone present knew the glass was strong enough to hold him back. Safety was paramount, wasn't it?
- Give it to me, - the Prototype demanded in Harley's own voice. It seemed he was starting to get angry.
- First, the procedure. - White replied. Placing the drawing on the table, he picked up the template. There weren't many questions, but for 1006, each one would undoubtedly be painful. Especially in this situation.
The experiment responded. Reluctantly, rudely, almost with contempt. Throughout the process, he kept his hand on the glass and his gaze fixed on the tablet, while Sawyer kept his eyes on the Prototype. Bruno once again took on the dirty work, leaving Harley to observe and analyze, and make notes.
However, he soon grew tired. The Prototype's responses were no different from those he had given three months ago, with the exception of his intense reaction to 1007's drawing. This, of course, was recorded. And yet... The doctor was hoping for something more interesting.
Having finally lost interest in what was happening, Harley once again buried himself in his notes. Here, for example, the day before yesterday...
"April 23.
Another experiment from the musical ruler failed. The result came out lopsided, crooked and mute. The freak was sent to Boxy. Only wasted time and materials.
On a positive note, one of the employees managed to scare Leith half to death again (I don't know who it was, but I really want to shake that person's hand). Now there are posters all over the factory prohibiting such behavior. Paranoid bastard.
Note: Ritterman started his Tokyo-themed monologue again. I barely restrained myself from sending him and his cane in a much more familiar direction (I swear, one day this knocking will drive me crazy). I'll have to see if I can rearrange my schedule to avoid running into him."
Sawyer grimaced. Thinking about his colleagues didn't bring him any pleasure. Their sour faces were already haunting him on a daily basis, not to mention their reports. Was there nothing "positive" about these documents?
"April 20.
Quinn's performance on the Music Memory test improved slightly. He said he had worked hard to please me. To make me proud of him.
I'm already proud of him.
For his age, he has a good understanding of the sciences (or rather, their childish imitations). Maybe I can get him interested in neurosurgery when he's older. Quinn has repeatedly expressed his desire to be like me. I should discuss this with him next time we meet. If everything goes well, he might one day take my place. I'll unlock his potential, I'll teach him everything I know and more. If not... Well, Quinn won't go hungry. I'll prepare him for the trials of this world. Maybe then he can avoid his father's mistakes.
Note: I did it. I don't know how it happened. I applied for adoption. Greyber looked at me like I was crazy when I brought her the papers.
Quinn doesn't know yet, and I can't imagine how he'll react. I think I should tell him in a more relaxed setting, maybe next week."
Trying to maintain a neutral expression on his pale face, Sawyer set the paper aside. This... It was too personal. Too sacred. It shouldn't have left his office in the first place. He must have grabbed it in a hurry, which was a mistake when it came to relying solely on the dates of documents.
After taking a few seconds to calm down, Sawyer turned his attention back to White and 1006. By this point, their "interrogation" had reached its conclusion, and there was nothing left but to fulfill their part of the deal.
White looked back at his colleague. During their time together, he had learned to be wary of Sawyer's cunning and dishonest nature. Indeed, on any other day, Sawyer would have easily left the experiment unrewarded. But not today.
- Give him the drawing. - Harley said with a sigh.
White shrugged and fiddled with the damned shutter system for what seemed like an eternity, but eventually, the tablet was on the other side of the glass. The Prototype took it in his hands and examined it for a long time, almost affectionately tracing the contours of the drawing. "It's a pitiful sight," - the doctor thought to himself. To think that the only weakness of such a massive creature was its younger sister, who wasn't even related to it, and everything associated with her. It was foolish, incredibly foolish. But...
Didn't he and Quinn share a similar bond?
Sawyer shook his head to dispel the treacherous thought. No, it was different. It was completely different. At least because he and his son had a future ahead of them. The puppet and the jester didn't.
Suddenly, he noticed something. The prototype was no longer looking at the drawing, although he still held it firmly in his hand. He extended his other hand towards the glass, tapping it softly and rhythmically with his index "finger." Following the trajectory of his hand, the doctor realized that 1006 was pointing at a piece of paper. It was the same paper with the notes about Quinn.
Instinctively, something inside him tightened. With great effort, he maintained a calm demeanor and "accidentally" placed his hand on the paper, blocking the jester's access to further information. However, the tension remained. Regardless of how much he had seen, Harley detested the mere fact of discovery. The test subject should not know too much about their hosts' lives.
- That's enough for today, - he concluded the recording with a standard set of phrases and turned off the microphone. Then, rubbing his tired eyes, he turned to Bruno. - Let's end early, I need to take care of something. You can clean up here.
- The Playcare's naptime hasn't ended yet, - White warned, his eyes still fixed on some old reports. His voice was so casual that for a moment, Harley wanted to punch him. - Greyber will be..."
- It's none of your business where I'm going, White, - Harley responded with a sudden bristling and a menacingly quiet hiss. - I can handle it without your valuable advice.
The blonde doctor didn't respond. With a nonchalant nod, he returned to his work. However, Harley was no longer interested in paperwork.
He couldn't understand why this minor incident with 1006 had caused such tension. It was strange. He was behind glass. He wouldn't escape. He had no influence on his own life, let alone the lives of the scientists. And yet...
Harley needed to check on his son.