Chapter Text
“Oh Syringeon~! You home~?” A sing-song jovial voice called out, and that was enough to make the frown on Syringeon’s face go deeper.
The fuchsia colored Mutant narrowed his eyes, debating if he had time to pretend to be too immense in his work to hear Bittergiggle’s voice calling out, or whether he should just chase the jester out himself just to get some peace and quiet.
He was leaning towards throwing the sharpest object around him to scare the jester off when Bittergiggle’s face appeared around the door frame, the grin half of his face growing wider when his miss-matched eyes landed on the four-armed surgeon. “Syringeon! There you are, old buddy!”
“Go away, Bittergiggle. I’m not in the mood fer any of your jokes.”
“Aww, but I came up with a really good one this time!”
“Bittergiggle–”
“It’s one I’m sure you’ll get a real kick out of!”
“Bittergiggle–”
“I promise you’ll–!”
“Bittergiggle.” Syringeon hissed, narrowing his eyes at the jester while activating his tools.
“… one joke for an entire year of none?” The jester offered meekly.
Syringeon glared at Bittergiggle, before sighing and turning off his tools. “Fine. ONE joke.”
The grin on Bittergiggle’s green side grew and he eagerly began to tell his joke. “What do you call someone when they stick their arm between a door?” He waited, though Syringeon didn’t bother to answer. “Armless!”
The surgeon groaned as Bittergiggle let out a series of giggling fits at his own joke. “Terrible. As usual.” He said as he turned away from the door. “Now leave me alone. I’m busy.”
“… um, Syringeon?”
“If yer goin’ta say another joke, I’m goin’ta clock ya right in the jaw.”
“I-It’s not a joke. I promise no jokes after that one, remember?”
“Ay, fer a whole year.” The surgeon kept his back to the door, searching around his desk for something. “Carol! Bring me batch eight from sector E!”
“R-Right. Um, well, funny story about that joke, you see–”
Bittergiggle didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Whatever Syringeon was looking on the desk, he found it and pressed it. The doors swiftly closed, locking Bittergiggle out on the other side.
The grin half of his face dropped as well as his frown half deepened as he stared at the door. “… well that was just plain rude.” He sighed, looking down at the severed snake arm in his hand.
In all honesty, perhaps he should have shown Syringeon the arm first. That certainly would have caught his attention, though Bittergiggle wasn’t quite sure if he’d help.
The surgeon never really got along all too well with Bittergiggle. Even when he wasn’t telling jokes, Syringeon couldn’t stand being in the same room with him for an hour. Bittergiggle wasn’t sure what he did to make Syringeon hate him so much.
He wasn’t sure what exactly he did to make everyone dislike him. Was it his jokes? Or was it his personality? Or did they not like the way that he dressed?
What was wrong with being fashionable? He was a jester, he was supposed to look like one. They shouldn’t care about all the little details or extra features he added to his clothes! … Maybe he should cut back on all the extravagant details and designs?
Be a little less flashy and showy? Would that make people like him a little more?
Maybe. Maybe not.
People were just so hard to please these days.
His frowning half deepened even more on his face, lifting his detached arm up and wondered what he should do with it. He didn’t want to toss it away. He would much prefer to have it back on his body where it belonged.
The little face smiled innocently at him, as if it didn’t see the problem of being severed from his shoulder that was still dripping Givanium on the floor. He should probably find something to stop the flow before he lost too much of the stuff.
Taking a random hallway, Bittergiggle looked around for anything that he could use to stanch the flow. A towel or some bandages might do, and he was sure Syringeon wouldn’t mind or notice some items going missing if they weren’t Givanium related. While he was at it, maybe he could find something to reattach his arm. It couldn’t be that hard to stick it back on with the right tool in hand.
“Now where does he keep supplies at?” Bittergiggle mumbled, poking his head into rooms. Syringeon had to keep his supplies close for his operations and experiments. There was no way he would let his lab go into a complete disarray, even if the floor could use a few scrub downs here and there.
His searching finally became fruitful as he reached the end of the hall and found boxes filled with medical equipment sorted inside. “Bingo!” His grin half grew wide, stepping inside the room and began searching for anything that could help.
The arm was getting a bit in the way, so he set it down on a table and continued looking through the boxes. “Bandages. Bandages. Bandages. What the heck even is this thing? Bandages. This doesn’t even look medical. Bandages. Bandages…” Both halves of Bittergiggle’s face went into a fine flat line as he pulled out a human skull from the box.
Wordlessly, he set the skull back in the box and pushed it away. With some slight hesitance, he went back to looking through other boxes, hoping he wouldn’t find any more disturbing surprises waiting for him as he searched.
“Where are the bandages? Ugh! There’s got to be something useful! Come on Syringeon, where do you keep the bandages?!” He huffed, searching through the last box. “You’ve got to have a towel here at least!” He let out a small snort, feeling compelled to kick something at this point.
Just then, something moved in the corner of his eye. Bittergiggle jumped, but relaxed when he saw it was only just a towel being held out to him. “Oh, thanks!” He said cheerfully, taking the towel and pressing it to his wound.
“Don’t mention it.”
Bittergiggle froze.
Slowly, he turned his head, finding Syringeon standing behind him.
Frowning with a displeased look in his eyes.
“… Hey Syringeon!” Bittergiggle said, with a little too much cheer in his voice. “Funny seeing you here! Not that you wouldn’t be here since this is your lab and all… so, uh, how’s it going?”
The surgeon gave him a firm stare.
“… okay, if it’s about the joke from earlier, I was being serious about not telling you anymore for a whole year. Not that I would even think to visit you for an entire year, you are a very busy Mutant and all that, and I know how much you don’t like to be disturbed from your work and normally I wouldn’t think to do so… under normal circumstances, b-but, um,” He motioned to his shoulder, smiling shakily on half of his face. “C-could you patch me up? Just this once? Please?”
Syrigneon stared at him.
“… no jokes for two years?”
A moment of silence passed before Syringeon huffed and motioned Bittergiggle to follow.
The jester’s grin grew genuine as he followed Syringeon back to his lab, grateful that he wasn’t being turned away again.
“A part of me really doesn’t want to know, but I have to ask just so I don’t wreck my brain over all the possible scenarios you could have possibly done to end up like this.” Syringeon said as they entered his lab.
“Well, to make a long story short, it’s not the greatest idea to stick an arm through a hole in a door.” Bittergiggle said as he sat himself down on the operation table. “Especially when the door is surprisingly fast when it opens and you’re not fast enough to pull your arm out in time.”
“And just why would you be sticking your arms in places it shouldn’t be in?” Syringeon question, adjusting the lights above the table. “You normally aren’t dumb enough to do somethin’ like that.”
“The button was on the other side. There really wasn’t much of a choice besides breaking them down.” Bittergiggle said with a shrug, though he winced at the action when his shoulder flared in pain. “… thinking back on it, a dislocated shoulder would have probably been better than… this.”
“Maybe.” Syringeon agreed, adjusting the light to the proper angle. Satisfied, he turned his focus on Bittergiggle’s shoulder, pointing at him with one of his tools. “Take off your shirt. I need to see how bad the damage is.”
“From the pain I’m in, I can only guess how bad it is.” Bittergiggle said as he unbuttoned his shirt. It was a bit difficult to manage with only one arm, even when Syringeon helped him out in the end, but they managed to free him from the article of clothing in the end.
Bittergiggle frowned at the ruined shirt, grimacing at the large stain of Givanium dripping from the fabric. He especially frowned when he saw the hole where his arm should be, and the teal green liquid that stained his purple fur. He was going to need a bath to clean this up.
Bittergiggle HATED baths.
“Oooh.” Syringeon hissed, looking at the wound with a mild of curious fascination, a smudge of irritation, and… was that the smallest hint of… concern? “That does look bad. Very bad.”
“Bad as in bad but fixable? Or bad and unfixable?” Bittergiggle asked in concern as Syringeon examined the wound.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” Syringeon said, poking at the wound carefully with one of his tool hands. “I would say this would be simple if you still had yer arm to reattach with, but I might have to sew it up close just to stop you frem losin’ anymore Givanium.”
“M-My arm? It’s back in the storage room.” Bittergiggle quickly pointed, not enjoying the idea of losing his arm forever. “The one I was looking through for bandages.”
“Really? Well that makes thin’s a bit easier then.” Syringeon looked over his shoulder, addressing a Givanium Citizen standing off to the side. “Go to storage room T and grab me Bittergiggle’s arm. And while you’re there, grab me a few empty vials and syringes.”
“Vials?” Bittergiggle parroted as the Citizen left. “Syringes? W-Wha-why do you need those? A-Aren’t you just going to reattach my arm?”
“Yes. AND while you’re here, we can finally get to work on some of the missed checkups you’ve been skippin’ out on fer the past two years.”
Bittergiggle winced, boxing in on himself as Syringeon gave him a look with those brown eyes of his. “O-oh. T-Two years, h-huh? H-hadn’t noticed.” He chuckled nervously under Syringeon’s glare, wishing the floor would just swallow him up now.
“M-hm. Likely story.” Syringeon said, just as the Givanium Citizen returned with the requested items. “Thank you, Carol. This will do.”
“Carol. Carol.” Bittergiggle narrowed his eyes at the Citizen, studying them head to toe. “Wasn’t the name of your assistant Sharon?” He asked. “And what happened to them?”
“The last assistant was Arial. And they’ve been moved to the lower sector of the lab.” Syringeon answered, readying a syringe. “Don’t be given’ me that look. You’re past overdue fer a health check and you know it.” The surgeon huffed at the terror on Bittergiggle’s face, rolling his eyes as the jester stared at the needle.
“I-I-I-I know that! It’s just–” Bittergiggle hissed, moving away from the needle as Syringeon moved it close. “… I… don’t have the best memory with… needles.”
“I know, lad. I know.” Syringeon gave his knee a small pat, almost in a way that could be called sympathy. “We’ve all been there before. I know all too well what you mean”
Bittergiggle made an odd noise, turning his face away from the needle. He let out a quiet hiss of pain as he felt the needle stick into his body, his hand gripping the rim of the table, digging his small claws in as he felt the small tool draw out his Givanium.
A shuddering sigh left his lips as the needle pulled out, and Syringeon, in a surprising out of character moment, gave Bittergiggle a small pat on the back.
“I know. I know.” Syringeon almost had a pitying look in his eyes, yet it didn’t stop him from sticking another two syringes in the jester and filling them with Givanium. Once all three were filled, he transferred them over to vials and handed them off to Carol. “Take these down to lab B. Make sure they get properly labeled fer testin’ later.”
“Testing? For what?” Bittergiggle questioned.
“The usual.” Syringeon shrugged as Carol walked off with the vials. “Normally for deformations, mutations, changes, and a number of other thin’s that might pop up. Givanium is an interestin’ thin’, and there’s no tellin’ what possibilities could pop up out of nowhere–”
A crash sounded out in the hall, interrupting Syringeon and startling Bittergiggle.
“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!”
{Me? You’re the one who ran into me!}
“I RAN INTO YOU?! YOU RAN INTO ME! NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID! YOU MADE ME DROP IMPORTANT VIALS FATHER ENTRUSTED ME TO GET! LOOK! MOST OF THEM ARE CRACKED! YOU KILLED SOME OF OUR FUTURE SIBLINGS!”
Syringeon let out a sound that was a mix between a growl and a sigh, one of his eyes twitching as the shouting continued in the hall.
“… more infants?” Bittergiggle spoke up. “You’re planning to make more Givanium Infants?”
“And what of it?” Syringeon turned his glare on the jester, who held up his hand in surrender.
“Nothing! I just… don’t you already have plenty of them around? Why have more? What’s the point of making them?”
“First of all, it’s none of your business.” Syringeon regarded him with a cool glare. “YOU TWO! STOP ARGUIN’ ALREADY AND GET BACK TO WORK!” He yelled towards the door and the voices outside went quiet. He turned his focus back on Bittergiggle. “Secondly, I like havin’ somethin’ to care fer down here. The Infants might not be much use, but I like their company. Tweak them enough and they become the only thin’ keepin’ me sanity in check.”
“Is that their only purpose?” Bittergiggle asked.
“Well, no. Some of them have certain genetic programmin’ while others don’t. I like to think that, given the chance to grow and learn, they might perform tasks better than others when they’ve grown into maturity. It’s a trial and error process, but the work speaks for itself in the end.”
Bittergiggle stared at Syringeon for a good moment before nodding, catching sight of a different Givanium Citizen walking by the door with a small crate in their arms passing by.
For a moment, he thought he saw some Givanium dripping out from the crate.
Syringeon was sure to have a fit about that later.
“Alright, we’ve wasted enough time chit-chattin’.” The surgeon spoke, grabbing Bittergiggle’s severed arm from the table. “The quicker we get this done, the better. I don’t want you spillin’ out your Givanium all over my floors.” He held up the limp appendage, making a face at the snake puppet hand. “This hand of yours still disturbs me.”
“What’s your problem against Philbert?”
“Philbert?” Syringeon gave him a bewildered look. “You named your hand Philbert?”
“I didn’t name it! The Sheriff did!” Bittergiggle clarified, appalled that Syringeon would think that he would name his hand such a name. “I wanted to name him Sir Serenity Serpent Samuel Simmons The Seventh!”
“… what?”
“… I lost in a game of rock, paper, scissors and Toadster picked Philbert.”
“Ah.” Syringeon nodded his head. “Makes sense. Alright, lay down. Let’s get Philbert back where it belongs.” He pulled a face as Bittergiggle laid out on the table. “Philbert. Who names a hand Philbert?” He grumbled as he got to work.
🧪
“Just clean up the mess, they said. Most of the vials aren’t even filled, they said. Our siblings should be just fine, they said. They’re not the ones in risk of Father’s wrath.”
Deep in the levels below the lab, a Givanium Citizen was growling to himself. He had been given an important task, one given to him by his father, and he did not want to disappoint him in the slightest.
Both in fear of his disappointment. And his anger.
The Citizen, who was giving the name Jotham, was currently sorting vials in a specific room. The room where every Givanium Citizen and Infant were created and breathed life into.
Jotham didn’t have many memories of this room, nor did he have a clue as to how his father created him and his numerous siblings. If he had to guess, the big machine in the back probably had something to do with their creation. He had never seen any new siblings pop out of it, but Jotham was sure that he and all his siblings came out of that thing at one point or another.
And he was certain that his father would have him repurposed when he found out that most of the vials in the box had been cracked.
Irritation and worry bled together inside Jotham, pulling out broken vial after broken vial from the box. Teal liquid slipped through the cracks of their tiny glass containers, staining the box with Givanium. If his father didn’t get upset over the loss of future children, he would surely be mad over the waste of Givanium.
Jotham swallowed uneasily, recalling when his father got angry with another Citizen over a simple mistake and used their body for a new formula to test on.
He could still remember their screams of agony.
When the last vial was taken out of the box, Jotham’s heart plummeted to his feet. Only five vials remained intact. Five vials out of thirty.
Five out of thirty potential new siblings.
Jotham panicked. Father was surely going to be angry about this! Only five vials out of thirty?! He would surely be angry that such a large number of siblings were lost! And the loss of Givanium!
Jotham groaned, holding his head in despair. What was he going to do?! Father had given him such an important task and he failed! He failed and twenty-five of his new siblings were dead! Gone! Oh why did Carol run into him?! Why did she have such issues against him?!
What should he do? Father would surely repurpose him! He didn’t want to end up as a new testing dummy or be put through numerous operations! He didn’t want to end up like Jim, Allen, Tiffy, Kamil, or Charlet!
He… he needed something to distract father. Something that would pull his attention away from his mistake.
But what? Father would always get immersed in his operations and his testing, but not immersed enough to delude his anger. What else was there to keep father’s focus away from him?
Jotham thought long and hard, looking around the room for anything that might help.
Then it came to him.
Infants!
Father loved Infants!
He partially made them every month!
Infants took up most of father’s work for hours on end! Especially the recently created ones!
Filled with a sense of hope, and maybe clouded judgment from fear, Jotham grabbed the vials and hurried over to the machine. It took some fumbling, and losing two more vials in the process of getting the machine to work, but Jotham finally managed to figure it out in the end.
It was alright! Three new siblings would be more than enough to distract father! He was always very attentive to newly created siblings for the first few days! And by then, father wouldn’t even recall his mistake!
Hopefully.
Feeling confident, Jotham now turned his attention to finding Carol and giving her a piece of his mind for almost ruining his task.
If Jotham had managed to stick around long enough, he would have spotted some words coming up on the screen of the machine. But being sure that his safety was secured, he didn’t bother nor care to stick around long enough to read what was being typed.
Genomes Detected
Vial 1: Homo Sapien, Bipalium Kewense, Stable
Vial 2: Homo Sapien, Bipalium Kewense, Stable
Vial 3: Homo Sapien, Thamnophis Sirtalis, Stable
Applying Givanium X Chromosome
Applying Givanium Cyan
WARNING
Additional Givanium Detected In Vial 3
Approximating Survival Rate Of Incubation
32.6%
Adjusting Givanium Levels For Stability Of Developing Fetus In Vial 3
Approximating Time For Fetus Stability
One Month