Chapter Text
“You got this one?” a nurse called, her voice cutting through the hallway like thunder.
She was bossy and technically held no higher authority than anyone else, but everyone adored her, so she got away with it. They’d nicknamed her Joy, a fitting title for someone who somehow stayed relentlessly upbeat, even while elbow-deep in blood.
“I got it!” Secret Agent shouted back.
The sharp ring in his ears hadn’t faded from the last gunshot. His pistol was still warm in his grip as the anomaly crumpled to the floor, just as grotesque as every one before it. A pair of steady footsteps approached. The Head Nurse walked in, unfazed by the carnage. Everyone called her Smokey. Partly because of the gray fur dusting her face, but mostly because she constantly smelled of cigarettes after a long shift. Secret Agent wasn’t much different. On shorter days, he carried the clean scent of a new car, but whenever shifts dragged on, he’d end up outside in the parking lot beside Smokey and Joy. None of them talked much. They’d simply lean against the wall, smoke curling into the night while music played softly from someone’s phone. By the time they went back inside, he smelled like smoke, too.
“I’ll get this one,” Smokey said evenly. Her tail swept lazily across the tile as she stepped into a spreading puddle of crimson without hesitation. She bent down, hoisted the limp body over her shoulder, and Secret Agent lifted the lid of the industrial waste bin for her. Together, they dumped the corpse inside with practiced ease.
It was always quiet.
The hospital rarely accepted new staff, insisting that fewer people meant fewer mistakes—and fewer questions. Everyone knew the routine. Everyone knew what happened here. Everyone, including the doctor. Dr. Harlow always managed to find something small to praise. Whether it was the careless disposal methods, the lack of paperwork, or the casual way everyone treated the horrors they dealt with daily.
The peace between the workers always lasted until the familiar, unsettling tap of hooves echoed down the hallway. It was the end of another shift. Joy padded back into the check-in room, sweat dampening her furry forehead. Her eyes flicked toward Smokey for only a second before she quickly looked away the moment their gazes met.
“We’ve got someone who wants to join,” Dr. Harlow announced, holding their suitcase in a tight grip. Silence settled over the room. Eventually, Secret Agent, the nurse, the head nurse, the psychologist, and the secretary were all gathered around. The others had already left or were out back.
They all stared at Dr. Harlow.
Secret Agent was the most confused—he was the most recent hire. He’d been a doctor too, before it became clear that he spotted anomalies quicker than anyone else, had faster reaction times during attacks, and eventually he was given a gun, a scanner, and a higher-paying job. Agent looked up and the fur along the back of his neck stood on end. Behind Dr. Harlow lumbered an enormous rabbit. Their ears drooped awkwardly against the sides of their head, their mouth hung open as they drew in loud, ragged breaths, and the thick dewlap around their neck looked almost suffocating. Agent could’ve sworn something shifted beneath the loose skin. His stomach dropped. Every instinct screamed anomaly.
“Agent,” Dr. Harlow called, his blue surgical mask muffling the words. “You’re the newest member of the team, so I’m sure your training’s the freshest… in your mind. Or… something along those lines.”
He gave the rabbit a firm pat between the shoulders, nudging them forward. The Intern stumbled a step.
They were huge.
Taller than anyone Agent had ever seen, broad enough to block the doorway, yet every movement was wrong. Too stiff. Too hesitant.
Not human.
Definitely not normal.
Like watching something trying very, very hard to imitate a person. Agent’s eyes snapped back to Dr. Harlow, searching for some sign that this was a joke.
All he saw were two lifeless, uncaring eyes staring back at him.
“…Err… yes, sir,” he managed.
Soon everyone filtered out after introducing themselves one by one. Then, it was just Agent and Intern. The room settled into silence, broken only by the distant hum of fluorescent lights. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and hay. Agent figured the hay wasn’t from the hospital. He glanced over.
Intern had wandered to a shelf and was inspecting a stapler with the same intensity someone might reserve for an unexploded bomb. Their fur stuck out in uneven clumps, tangled with bits of straw and dust.
They looked like they had never been brushed, much less bathed.
“…So,” Agent finally said, tearing his eyes away from them. “What’s your name?”
Intern’s ears twitched. “The Intern.”
“No, I mean your actual name.”
“Intern,” they repeated, a low growl rumbling in their chest.
Agent waited for a second, hoping it was a joke. It wasn’t. “…Right.”
He decided not to push it. Besides, the building still had to be closed for the night. “Come on.”
Intern followed without another word. Agent started with the basics. He showed them how to sweep without sending dust into the air, how to mop in long strokes instead of splashing water everywhere, and why the mop bucket had two compartments.
Intern copied everything with eerie precision. They never asked why something was done—only memorized exactly how he’d done it.
“Trash goes out last,” Agent explained, tying off a bag. “Otherwise you’ll track dirt back inside and have to reclean.”
Intern nodded.
“You don’t eat anything you find in the break room fridge.”
Another nod. Intern picked something up.
“And if Doctor Harlow labels something with their name…”
Intern stared.
“…Definitely don’t eat it.”
Intern slowly lowered the yogurt cup they’d quietly picked up from the counter.
“…Good.”
They continued through the building. Agent pointed out light switches, supply closets, emergency exits, and where the first-aid kits were kept. Intern followed so closely their shoulder nearly bumped into him every time he stopped.
“You don’t have to stand that close.”
Intern immediately took three exaggerated steps backward.
“…Little too far.”
One careful step forward.
“…There.”
Intern stayed exactly there for the rest of the training, measuring the distance each time Agent moved as if it were a rule that could never change. It was strange. They behaved like someone who’d never been taught anything before. Secret Agent finally shut the shutters and turned to Intern.
“Did you ride with the Doc up here?”
“Yyyes.”
Intern spoke while moving to the side and looking at Agent, their eyes narrowing and blinking at him.
Secret Agent disliked that look and flicked his tail in distaste. Intern noticed. They immediately fixed their face. Agent didn’t like how fast they were being memorized.
“C’mon then. You can ride home with me,” Secret Agent said, grabbing his keys. He held the door open as Intern slowly trudged past him.
“Where do you live?”
Intern stopped. “Live?”
Agent blinked. “Yeah. Where do you live?”
Intern tilted their head, one ear slowly rising.
“What do you mean?”
“Your… home.”
A pause. “The doctor said I’ll stay in the hospital roo—”
Intern didn’t get to finish. Agent stared at them for a long moment, his expression flattening.
“No.” Intern blinked.
“No?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“But Doctor Harlow—”
“Doctor Harlow also thinks letting a new hire sleep in a storage room is OK.”
Intern looked genuinely confused. “It has a bed.”
“That is not the point.”
Agent sighed, rubbing his face. He had spent the entire evening teaching Intern how to properly hold a mop, how to use a trash bag, and why they couldn’t lick random objects they found on the floor. And somehow, the biggest thing he had to explain was that they deserved somewhere to sleep.
“Come on,” Agent said. Intern followed. A few minutes later, they were standing beside Agent’s car. Intern stared at it.
“What is that?” Intern peeped. Agent looked over his shoulder.
“…A car.”
“It moves?” Intern asked, looking confused.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Agent paused. “…That is what cars do.” Intern stared at the vehicle like it was a strange creature waiting to attack. Eventually, Agent opened the passenger door.
“Get in.”
Intern hesitated. “Is it safe?”
“Yes.” Agent looked at them.
Another pause. “Promise?”
Something about the question made Agent’s expression soften, just slightly. “Promise.”
Intern climbed inside.
Agent buckled them in after they struggled with the seatbelt for almost a full minute, then walked around to the driver’s side. The entire ride was quiet. Intern pressed against the window, watching the world pass by with wide eyes. Buildings. Streetlights. People walking home. Everything was new. Agent glanced over, deciding to break the silence.
“Never had a house?”
“No.”
“Never had a room?”
Intern thought about it. “The hospital..”
Agent tightened his grip on the steering wheel, confused and agitated. “That’s not the same thing as as a ROOM.”
“Why?” Intern looked at him. Agent didn’t answer right away. Because he didn’t know how to explain something so simple. A room was somewhere you existed. A home was somewhere you belonged. Nobody should belong to or exist inside of a hospital room.
The car rolled to a stop in the driveway of Agent’s modest one-story house, he killed the engine and pocketed the keys. Intern hadn’t moved. They were still pressed against the window, breath fogging the glass, staring at the house like it might swallow them.
“We’re here,” Agent said.
Intern blinked slowly. “This is yours?”
“Yeah.”
“All of it?”
“All of it.”
Intern’s ears rotated forward. Their gaze swept across the porch, the small garden bed flanking the front steps, the single lantern light buzzing beside the door. Something shifted in their expression. Not quite wonder, but close. Like they were trying to understand what they were looking at. Agent got out. Intern fumbled with the seatbelt for a few seconds before remembering the button on the side. They climbed out and stood on the driveway, paws hanging at their sides, completely still.
“Come on,” Agent said, walking up the steps.He unlocked the door and pushed it open. The porch light flickered once inside, a familiar, comforting hum.
“Watch your head.” Intern ducked unnecessarily and stepped inside. They froze. Agent watched them from the kitchen doorway as Intern stood in the entryway, turning their head inch by inch. Their nose twitched. Their ears swiveled. They took one step forward, then stopped, like the floor might not hold.
“It’s… quiet,” Intern said.
“It’s a house. They usually are.”
Intern looked down at the welcome mat. “What does that say?”
“Welcome.”
They stared at it for a long time. “…Oh.”
Agent set his keys on the counter and tossed his jacket over the back of a chair. Intern flinched at the movement, then quickly corrected their expression when Agent glanced over.
“Okay,” Agent said, rolling up his sleeves. “First things first. You’re not sleeping in those.”
Intern looked down at themselves.
Their clothes—loose, ill-fitting scrubs Dr. Harlow had given them—were stained with dust, straw, and something Agent didn’t want to identify. The fur beneath was matted in clumps.
“Do you have… other clothes?” Agent asked.
Intern patted their pockets slowly, as if checking for the first time. They pulled out a single bent paperclip and a dead moth. They held both up for Agent to see.
“…No.” Agent exhaled through his nose. He walked to his bedroom and dug through his dresser. He found an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring. They’d be too small for Intern’s broad frame, but it was better than nothing.
He came back and held them out.
“Here. Bathroom’s down the hall, first door on the left. Shower first, then put these on.” Intern took the clothes with both hands, holding them like they were made of glass.
“Shower?” they asked.
Agent paused. “…You know what a shower is, right?”
Intern’s silence answered that. “Okay.” Agent rubbed his face and walked down the hall. Intern followed at their measured distance—exactly where they’d been trained to stand. Agent pushed the bathroom door open and reached inside to flip the light. The fluorescent bulb buzzed to life. He turned the faucet. Water sprayed from the showerhead, steam curling up almost immediately. Intern recoiled, pressing themselves against the doorframe.
“It’s just water,” Agent said. Intern’s eyes were wide. Their ears had flattened completely. “It won’t hurt you. See?” Agent held his hand under the stream. “Just water. Warm water.” Intern watched his hand for a long time.
Then, slowly, they reached out and touched the water with one finger. They pulled back. Touched it again. Let it run over their palm.
“…Warm,” they said quietly.
“Yeah. That’s the point.” Agent grabbed a towel from the shelf and set it on the counter. He pulled a new bar of soap from the cabinet and placed it beside the towel. Then he grabbed a bottle of dhampoo which was half-empty—and set it next to the soap.
“Soap. Shampoo. Use both. Lather, rinse, done.” He paused. “Don’t eat the soap.”
Intern was looking at the bar of soap. Their gaze lingered a beat too long.
“I mean it.”
Intern looked away.
“Get undressed, get in, wash off. Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Agent turned to leave, then stopped.
“And lock the door if you want privacy.”
“Privacy?”
Agent hesitated.
“…It means nobody comes in. You get to be alone.”
Intern processed that.
“…I’ve been alone.”
There was something in the way they said it. Not relief. Not sadness. Agent didn’t know what to say to that.
“Just… take the shower. Yell if you need something.”
He closed the door and walked to the kitchen. He could hear the water running. Then a loud thud. Then silence. Then the water again. He started making a sandwich.
About twenty minutes later, Intern emerged from the bathroom. They were soaked from the ears down, the too-small shirt stretched tight across their shoulders and the sweatpants rolled up at the ankles. Their fur was slicked flat against their body, and without the layers of dust, straw, and grime covering them before, they looked… different. Younger, maybe. Softer. Their fur was actually a warm brown underneath everything Agent had mistaken for dirt.
For a moment, Agent didn’t recognize them. Then he noticed they were still holding the towel. Not using it. Just holding it.
“Did you dry off?” Agent asked.
Intern blinked. A pause “…No.”
Agent sighed through his nose. “Come here.”
Intern immediately walked over. Too quickly. Almost like they’d been waiting for permission. Agent took the towel from their hands and started drying the fur around their ears. Intern flinched at first, their ears twitching back in surprise, but they didn’t pull away. Instead, they stood completely still, watching him with wide eyes. Too still. Like they were afraid that if they moved, he would stop.
“You know most people dry themselves after a shower,” Agent muttered.
Intern stared ahead. “I am not most people.”
Agent paused. “…Fair.”
He continued drying their ears, carefully working through the damp fur. Intern’s expression remained blank, but their ears slowly relaxed, lowering from their tense position.
“There,” Agent said finally, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Better.”
Intern reached up and touched one of their ears, feeling the difference.
“…It’s different.”
“What is?”
“My fur.”
Agent shrugged. “Because it’s clean.”
Intern looked down at their paws. “Clean.” They repeated the word quietly, like they were memorizing it. Agent didn’t comment. Instead, he placed a plate with a sandwich on the counter.
“Eat.”
Intern picked it up. Immediately, they began examining it. They turned it over, sniffed it, and lightly pressed one claw against the bread. Agent watched for a few seconds.
“Intern.”
They froze.
“Food isn’t going to attack you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you studying it?”
Intern looked down at the sandwich. “Because you made it.”
Agent blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Intern’s ears lowered slightly. “I don’t know.”
The answer wasn’t sarcastic. It wasn’t an excuse. They genuinely didn’t know. They just knew that things people made seemed important.
“Just eat,” Agent said.
Intern nodded and took a bite. Slowly. Carefully.
Like they were trying to figure out the correct way to do it. After a moment, they swallowed. “It’s good.”
Agent leaned against the counter. “Yeah?”
Intern nodded.
“You make food.”
“Yes.”
“You do that often?”
“…Yeah.”
Intern looked down at the sandwich. “You make things.”
Agent looked at them. There was something strange about the way they said it. Not like they were complimenting him, but like they were discovering a fact about the world. Some people made things. Some people provided things. Some people cared enough to do things for others. Agent didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. He just finished his own sandwich. The two of them ate quietly. When Intern finished, they didn’t move right away. They stared at the empty plate, paws resting on either side of it.
“You’re done,” Agent said.Intern nodded. “Okay. Bed.”
Their ears perked up.“Bed?”
“Yes. Sleep.”
Intern followed him down the hallway. When Agent opened the spare room door, they stopped. It wasn’t anything impressive. Just a small room with a single bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and a window with the curtains drawn. But Intern stared at it like Agent had opened the door to something impossible.
“This is… mine?”
“Tonight, yeah.”
Intern stepped inside slowly. They touched the blanket first. Then the pillow. Then the mattress. Every movement was careful, like they expected something to disappear the moment they reached for it.
“It’s soft,” they murmured.
“Most beds are.”
Intern looked back at him. “Do you have one?”
Agent frowned slightly. “…Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I sleep there.”
Intern looked back at the room. Then back at him. “You sleep somewhere like this too?”
The question caught him off guard. “Yeah.”
Intern seemed to process that.
Agent had never considered that Intern might not have thought of him as someone who needed things too. Food. Sleep. A place to return to.
“Alright,” Agent said, pulling the blanket back. “Lie down.”
Intern obeyed. They lowered themselves onto the bed stiffly, arms folded at their sides, staring straight at the ceiling. Agent stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“No, you look like you’re waiting for instructions.”
Intern blinked. “I don’t know how to do this right.”
Something about that sentence made Agent pause. “It’s not a test.”
Intern’s ears twitched. “Ok.” Slowly, they relaxed. Not completely. But enough. Agent adjusted the blanket over them.
“There.” Intern looked up at him.
“Are you leaving?” The question was quiet. Their expression didn’t change, and their voice remained steady, but their paws tightened around the blanket.
“I’m going to my room.”
“Oh.” Intern nodded. Too quickly. “Okay.”
Agent noticed. The way their ears followed him. The way their eyes kept flicking toward the doorway. The way they were trying very hard not to look like they were waiting for him to come back.
They didn’t ask him to stay. Maybe they didn’t know they could. “…I’m not far,” Agent said.
Intern looked at him. “I know.”
But Agent wasn’t convinced they did. He reached for the light switch. “Light on or off?”
A pause. “…On.”
Agent nodded. “Alright.”
He stepped toward the door. Behind him, the mattress shifted slightly. Intern had moved closer to the edge of the bed. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough that they could see the doorway better. Agent noticed. He didn’t mention it.
“Don’t stay awake all night watching the door.” Intern immediately laid back down.
“I wasn’t.”
Agent raised an eyebrow. Intern went quiet. “…Maybe.”
For the first time that night, Agent almost smiled. “Sleep.”
Intern nodded. Agent left the lamp on and pulled the door mostly closed, leaving a small crack open. Not because Intern asked. Because he noticed. The house became quiet. A few minutes passed. Then, from the spare room-
“Agent?”
He stopped. “What?”
A pause. “…Nothing.”
Agent waited. Intern pulled the blanket higher. “I’m sleeping.”
“Okay.”
He walked back to his room. The door stayed cracked. And after a long while, when the house had settled completely, Agent heard the quietest whisper from down the hall.
“…Goodnight.” This time, Intern wasn’t asking what it meant. They were practicing it.
Obviously, as Agent lay down. That was an
anomaly, but anomalies didn’t.. stay. They dont Linger, They stayed for a minute and exploded into monsters who ate other people- they didnt care how things went or show emotions. If Intern was an anomaly, then why would they be so.. Passive?