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It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
He had a plan! Get in, complete the objective, get out. It was supposed to be simple. He was better than this, smarter than this.
All it took was a single millisecond, a miscalculation on his part. It had been a long time since he had a mission that required exiting his mech. He infiltrated the facility, crawling through the vents until he found what he was after: a cold steel room full of cages. It was easy to forget how big he really was, compared to what he “should” be.
The little ones would never understand what he had done for them, the short, horrible life he had saved them from. He wasn’t certain what sort of testing they were being sent off to, and in hindsight, he wished he had done more research.
Before he could make it back to his mech and evacuate, he was captured. He was flung into the same sort of cage from which he had unleashed a hoard of tiny, regular hamsters. The man who did it mumbled something about his weight being roughly equal to the amount registered by the ones he set free. The cage went into a crate that was quickly sealed shut, and all Hammond heard for the next twelve hours was the sound of movement.
Shuffling, chatter, the sound of machines scanning bar codes. Just like that, he was back in his own worst nightmare, enroute to some hellish facility that would use him like a labrat.
But that was fine. The Lunar Colony wasn’t equipped to contain someone like him, so what chance did some place expecting regular hamsters? He would escape this place just like he’d escaped Lucheng.
After an endless expanse of time, the crate finally stopped moving. Hammond heard the sound of rending wood as it was torn open. The light was too much to bear, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. A pair of hands removed the cage from the crate and placed him on a surface. He rubbed his eyes and blinked, getting used to seeing light again.
Once he could fully see, he wasn’t quite sure what to think.
He expected… more people? Maybe he expected someone he recognized. But there was only one single stranger staring at him in a clean, white lab coat. He recognized that the person was a scientist. Female. A bit older by human standards.
Her hair was short, slicked back against her skull with a single stray flourish falling back over her forehead. Her eyes were attentive and sinister, each a different hue. She looked confused, presumably because whatever plans she had to torture a few dozen test subjects were shattered by his presence.
“Funny, I don’t remember ordering someone else’s leftovers,” she said.
Hammond resisted the urge to visibly take offense to the comment. Right now his plan was to pretend to be simple. He was already out of the crate—if he could get this woman to let her guard down and leave him alone for a while, he could figure a way out of the cage and be on his way in no time.
But she wouldn’t leave. Annoying.
She stared at him, eyeing him up and down. She spent a bit of time lingering on his eyes, no, on his forehead. There was a prominent silver hexagon sticking out of his head, Hammond wasn’t ignorant of it. He just didn’t appreciate the humiliating ritual of someone staring at it and, presumably, trying to piece together how far it penetrated his skull.
“So you’re the thing that apparently replaced my entire shipment of hamsters. How exactly does that happen?”
Hammond said nothing. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He understood English and a few other languages, he just couldn’t speak it.
“You’re much larger than an ordinary hamster.”
This scientist was clearly stupider than most. Not only was she stating very obvious things, but she was talking to something that wasn’t responding back. Out loud.
“You’re useless to me like this, you know. There’s no progress to be made by experimenting on an outlier.”
That was…relieving, Hammond supposed, if a bit insulting. Why was her first instinct to insult him, anyway?
“But I can fix that,” she said, walking over to a counter and picking up a syringe. “Just a few injections and I’ll have you back down to normal size. I’ll get that troublesome hunk of metal removed, too.”
There was an involuntary surge of panic Hammond felt in his chest. He eyed the glint of light rebounding off the tip of a needle and it was enough for him to throw out all reason.
He could no longer appeal to this woman’s ignorance, he needed to appeal to her mercy.
All he had was body language, without his mech. Oh how he missed his mech. As intelligent as Hammond was, he could not erase his basic nature. The mech was meant to smother all the pitfalls of being born a hamster. No longer small, vulnerable, potential food for a dangerous predator, with his mech he was massive, powerful, and well-armed. He never had to worry about being picked off by something bigger than him. But now…
He waved his arms in front of himself and shook his head. No! No! No! Came out as very high-pitched squeaks.
His panic wasn’t chaotic, it was calculated. He was making several thoroughly human gestures, something that required intelligence to do. That was what he was banking on, now. He was hoping the realization that he was intelligent would be enough to inspire mercy in the scientist.
“I see,” she stopped before reaching him. “So you’re smart enough to deceive me, but not quite smart enough to see an empty syringe for what it is.”
She smiled. In an instant, Hammond’s fear was replaced with annoyance. He held a single digit on his paw up at her, hoping the message got through despite his lack of fingers.
The woman didn’t seem to be offended. If anything, she was even more intrigued.
“Fascinating. So in addition to being inordinately…large, and intelligent, you’re also capable of making obscene gestures.”
He didn’t like the way she phrased that. Was she calling him fat? He was the perfect size to bite that sharp nose of hers clean off her face, if only he could get out of this cage.
He tried to tell her as much, but what came out was a series of squeaks and chitters that may as well have been gibberish to her.
“Hmm,” she put one slender finger to an obnoxiously pointy chin. “You know, I would love to have a look at that brain of yours.”
All that bravado evaporated in an instant. Suddenly all Hammond could think about was being on a lab table again, a mask to his face, something to make him sleep while someone took a scalpel and-
No! NO! He rattled the bars of his cage. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d sooner die than let this ghoul cut him open. The cage shook. It shuffled closer to the edge, closer and closer. Maybe the fall to the floor would be hard enough to—
A human hand slammed the cage back down to the counter, the curious two-toned eyes of its owner glaring down at him as his tiny heart hammered against his chest. The scientist grinned, the sort of vile look a human only gives when they know how powerless you are.
The human clearly reveled in it. She kept that same, cocky smile as she picked up Hammond’s prison and carried it away.
He jumped from side to side, looking for any weak points, any way to free himself, but there wasn't one. This wasn’t an ordinary cage, it was more sophisticated than that, and he couldn’t find his way out in time to do anything.
The world around him darkened, the cage sat on a platform that slowly moved into a silvery grey tube. He could hear the whir of motors, something spinning all around him.
“Oh relax, would you? I have a CT scanner for a reason.”
The words passed through his head but didn’t register. It wasn’t until he saw the scientist staring at a screen outside the device that he understood what was happening.
It was a noninvasive scan.
Well, “noninvasive” was a misnomer. The images the scientist was looking at were of his brain, which he didn’t particularly appreciate. Still, she gathered them by putting him into the scanner, and not by cutting his head open, which was a relief.
“Interesting. So you really do have the capacity for language, among other things.”
Yes! Of course I do! I can understand everything you’re saying, you moron!
But it didn’t really matter what he thought of her, because all the human heard was:
Squeak, squeakakeek ssSQUEAK!
The scientist nodded, her brows raised as though she understood him. She couldn’t possibly understand him, could she? She removed him from the scanner and placed him back on the counter.
Hammond looked around the lab. Beyond the palpable amount of potential torture devices, deadly chemicals and terrifying machines, he spotted something useful - a whiteboard. It was one of those old, simple ones, no electronics, just a flat white surface and squeaky markers.
He wanted it.
He squeaked loudly and raised his arms over his head, waving. It got the scientist’s attention, her face scrunched as she watched the hamster dance about his cage and wave.
Hammond pressed his hand against the bars of the cage, slapping it twice before curling his fingers to point at what he desired.
By some miracle, the scientist followed his gesture out of the cage. She pointed to the whiteboard herself and looked back at him as she walked over to it.
“You want this?” She asked, picking up one of the whiteboard markers and toying with it. “I’m afraid it’s far too big to fit in your cage.”
She smiled. She knew this much was obvious, but didn't offer any solution—namely the simple one of letting him out. But Hammond could read between the lines. He didn’t need to prove he could write for her to know full well he was just as smart as she was. If his actions weren’t enough already, she already confirmed it by scanning his brain. No, she knew she had an intelligent creature as a prisoner, and she was keeping him that way anyway.
He didn’t hide his annoyance well. He stomped his paws on the bottom of the cage and slapped his forehead. He brought his palms together in a simple, compacting gesture, communicating the obvious: find a smaller version, then, nimrod.
‘Nimrod,’ of course, would be a generous translation of the various colorful names Hammond squeaked under his breath.
She found this amusing. He could tell by the way she dared to laugh at him.
Hammond could tell now: this woman was an entirely different kind of evil than the scientists at Lucheng. Dr. Chau and her ilk were thoughtless, their cruelty merely a consequence. But this one seemed to actively revel in tormenting him.
She surprised him, then, when she procured a small, portable whiteboard from a drawer and handed it to him through the bars of his cage, along with a marker.
He eagerly took both from her and sat in the far corner of the cage, slipping the cap off the marker and hurriedly jotting something down. He stopped, suddenly, eyeing the board and then the woman standing just outside his cage.
She watched him, transfixed, hands folded neatly behind her back. She was smiling, so enragingly smug about everything. Hammond looked to the message he’d written on the board and realized it served no purpose at all.
“Let me out!” simply wasn’t going to cut it. The scientist knew he was intelligent, she knew he was angry, she knew very well that he didn’t appreciate being locked in a cage. Lack of understanding wasn’t the problem here. So Hammond erased the message before he even showed it, wiping it away with the fur on his forearm.
He tapped the marker on his chin, thinking. He needed to approach this from a different angle if he wanted his freedom.
The scientist watched curiously as he scrawled something new, then turned the board around for her to see.
She looked… surprised. This was good, Hammond thought. It was better than being smug and power-hungry.
“My name?” She asked. She gave a shallow bow with that discolored hand held in front of her body. “Dr. Moira O’Deorain, of course. I don’t imagine you also have one, do you?”
Hammond spat out something insulting that she wouldn’t understand before writing an answer.
“Hammond? I suppose that works. You look more like a ‘Biscuits’ to me, though.”
He underlined the name twice before turning it back around to show her, which got a chuckle out of her, and more grumbling out of him.
“Tell me, Hammond, is it a burden, or a blessing?”
She tapped the center of her forehead, right where that hunk of intrusive metal rested upon his own.
He understood. This required some thought, however. No one had ever asked him what he thought of all this.
Hammond had been told what it meant, why it was needed, the pokes and prods and experiments that killed his brothers and sisters while he grew and grew, becoming bigger, becoming smarter. He knew humans were searching for a way to help themselves, at the cost of animal lives. He knew he didn’t ask for this, but also knew he wouldn’t reverse it, if given the chance.
He wrote down an answer:
A good thing. But lonely.
Dr. O’Deorain nodded. “Well, perhaps I could’ve cured you of that, if you’d left my shipment intact.”
Hammond chittered angrily as he scrubbed the whiteboard clean before scrawling something new.
No. No more experiments, no more like the hamster. And no more using hamsters!
She shrugged.
“Very well then. I can’t say it would be of much benefit to my cause to make more of you, unless…”
She got in close to his cage, eyeing him up and down. Hammond glared back.
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in working as my lab assistant, would you? Those tiny hands of yours would be perfect for some finer tasks.”
Hammond grumbled.
Not assistant. Overqualified.
“Really? Not even if I have food? I am certain there are at least three types of cheese currently in the break room fridge.”
Overqualified. He underlined it again, and added: Experienced engineer.
“Really now? An engineer?”
She seemed to think it a joke, at first, but then she reconsidered.
“Then you may be of use to me yet. The tedium of mechanical things is the one area I am lacking in. Would you be able to help me solve an issue I’ve been having?”
Hammond saw his opening. He was surprised at how easy it was. Was all he needed to get out of this situation a simple trade?
First freedom, then snacks. Then yes.
Hammond’s freedom came without much fanfare at all. Moira unlatched the cage and then backed off, her hands up. She seemed determined to prove she meant no harm. After all, if what Hammond had said was true, she could use him.
And she did exactly that. She explained the trouble she was having with an invention of hers. It looked to be a backpack that acted as a weapon, with conduits to each hand. She wanted the firing mechanism on the right one to work more efficiently, and seemed impressed at how quickly he got to work.
She left him to his own devices for a while, returning with generous amounts of food. He didn’t miss the way she looked at him when he ate.
Hammond knew exactly how Moira saw him. He was a novelty, amusing and cute. She enjoyed watching him work (and nibble on snacks) the same way a child might enjoy watching a monkey peel a banana at the zoo. Over time, however, the tasks she asked of him became more challenging. As she trusted him with more, the way she looked at him changed. The novelty wore off, as did the condescending way she spoke to him.
Eventually, it had been long enough that Hammond no longer needed the whiteboard. Just as Moira was impressed by his expertise, he was impressed with her capacity for language. Hammond would squeak for a tool, and she would hand him the correct one almost every time. It took a bit of trial and error, a bit of learning, but she got there. His new friend seemed thoroughly fascinated by what she perceived as a new language.
Yes, friend. It felt strange to call any scientist, particularly one who experimented on animals, a friend. But Moira gave him cheese and potato chips and fun mechanical tasks, and did not poke him with needles. So she could be considered a friend, for now.
Hammond sat in a pile of treasures. A bag of salt and vinegar chips cushioned his back. A large plastic container of puffy, cheesy spheres sat beside it, opposite to a box of crispy chocolate biscuits. A flat package labeled “assorted cheese” sat beneath his rump. Truth be told, he was bloated enough right now to necessitate a break anyway, though he was done.
Moira had put the backpack on, the conduit he had fiddled with earlier now attached to that strange, veiny right arm of hers. Hammond had asked about it earlier. It was a result of laboratory testing, just like him, though Moira had done it to herself. He respected that about her, how willing she was to make even herself into a test subject. It was more integrity than most scientists had.
“Who would have thought I could have this fixed by a new colleague,” she said, quite satisfied, flexing her hand. “That saves me hours of work that could be better spent on other projects.”
Hammond burped, then squeaked out a question.
Colleague, not labrat, yes?
“Of course,” she said. “Why, without multiple specimens exactly like you, I can’t possibly hope to reproduce the results, so what good are you as a labrat?”
Ha ha. Funny.
“There is…one thing I would like to test, actually, if you are willing.”
Hammond put a potato chip in his mouth and snapped it in half before glaring at Moira, instantly suspicious. He hadn’t the foggiest what she had in mind.
It was a dull day for Mauga. No mission, no news, just another one of those days with entirely too much down time. Doomfist wasn’t even around to prank, either. He’d spent the morning playing video games, and now he was hungry.
He made a habit of asking everyone at Talon base if they wanted anything. It was to be “nice,” sure, but also to have an excuse to snoop and see if anyone else was up to something interesting. He already had Sombra and Reaper’s order. Now it was time to annoy his favorite doctor.
He tapped two fingers on the door to Moira’s lab and yelled, “Mooooira! We’re ordering from that panini place, you want anything?”
He waited for a response, which came a few seconds later in the form of a message through the intercom she had installed outside her lab for the express purpose of responding without having to open the door.
“I’m busy, go away.”
Mauga frowned. Moira almost always got something, despite her hatred of asking anyone for anything. She must be working on something interesting, and that meant he wanted to have a look.
Luckily, she had very little privacy when it came to other elite members of Talon.
He unlocked the door with a quick scan and made his way into the lab. He did his best to not hit anything sitting on the shelves—she always made a big stink if he messed anything up.
“Come on, this place is your favorite. You’re just gonna get mad if I come back without anything for—“
Mauga stopped talking and stared. Two pairs of eyes were glaring at him. One belonged to some sort of weird mutant rat. There was a tiny piece of carved black wood in the thing’s hand, hovering over a game board. Moira stood opposite to him, looking thoroughly enraged.
“What part of ‘I’m busy’ did not get through your thick skull, Malosi?”
He ignored the question and pointed at the strange creature twitching its nose at him.
“What the hell is that thing?!”
The rodent ignored him, looking at Moira and letting out a series of, admittedly adorable, squeaks.
“Really? After all this snacking you still need more?”
The creature let off another round of squeaks.
“I suppose that’s true, this would be hot,” Moira thought for a moment.
The thing squeaked again. Moira nodded. Mauga stared.
“Oh fine, if you’re getting something I suppose I will too,” she sighed.
Moira hastily scribbled something onto a slip of paper as the massive hamster on the counter seemed to dictate to her. Then she handed the paper to Mauga.
“Very well, we will be ordering after all. Thank you.”
“But—“
“That will be all, Malosi,” Moira said with a push.
He was more than strong enough to resist her, but Mauga’s brain was scrambled enough to simply allow her to direct him.
And so Mauga was shuffled out of her lab. He now had a slip of paper with two sandwich orders, and about a million questions.
Was she playing chess with a giant rat?
A big, heartfelt thank you to my friend gorlassar/g0rlassar for the art, which was done eons ago and that I always meant to write an accompanying fic for.