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Intern lingers in the office, his weight leaning lazily against the desk, his gaze softening as the coffee machine gurgles to life, its rich aroma curling through the air like tendrils of steam. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he listens to the symphony of his coworker’s banter, jokes sharp as the edge of a freshly printed spreadsheet, laughter warm as the golden hour light spilling through the blinds.
The Nurse leans into the Secretary’s space, her fingers splayed around a photo like it’s a fragile secret. The image shimmers with static, a green cat with ears like jagged crescent moons and bright red three eyes, one too many, all of them gleaming with horrible violent intent written all over its orbs, staring back at them. She throws her head back, laughter spilling into the air like wind chimes.
“It’s like they’ve given up entirely!” she cackles, shaking the photo. “These things are hilarious, Secretary.”
Secretary exhales, a sound half-amused, half-exasperated, his lips curling into a grin. “Funny for you," he teases, nudging the nurse’s shoulder. “Imagine how I feel when they just waltz up to the desk and slap their forms down like they're normal.” His mouth curves into a bit of a smile, matching Nurse's humor, the kind that turns even the most mundane moments into little pockets of joy.
The intern soaks in their laughter like sunlight, his attention drifting from the chorus of voices to the hypnotic rhythm of the coffee machine. His gaze follows the slow, deliberate descent of droplets into the cup, each one stretching time like taffy; why is it taking so long? His fingers tap restlessly against the wooden desk, a staccato rhythm that betrays the quiet storm beneath his skin and bones. He longs to weave his voice into their tapestry of jokes and jabs, but the memory lingers, sharp as a paper cut: the way their smiles had frozen mid-air the last time he tried, polite and distant, as if his words were an unwelcome guest at their table.
Nurse straightens, pulling away from Secretary with a grin that’s all teeth and mischief. “Next time some creepy-looking anomaly slinks up to your desk,” she says, her voice a playful challenge, “you call me over so we can laugh at it before we tase it.” The words wrap around Intern's head like a promise, and a taunt.
A sting pierces his chest, a quiet, aching thing, like frost would bite tender plants leaves. He swallows it down, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Would they do the same things to him if they knew?
The intern’s gaze remains locked on the coffee machine, but his mind is adrift in a sea of want and exhaustion. The rhythmic drip… drip… drip of the coffee falls like a countdown, each drop hollow and mocking, each second stretching his sanity thinner than parchment. His fingers dig into the desk, knuckles whitening, as if he could anchor himself to something real and something solid.
Beneath the surface, a knot of hunger gnaws at his stomach, a living thing with teeth, twisting and tightening until his vision blurs at the edges. His ribs press against his skin like bars, his body a cage of need.
Starving.
The word claws its way up his throat, bitter and desperate. His stomach cramps, a violent protest that leaves him breathless, his body betraying him in slow, agonizing waves.
He clings to the pain, the hunger of being, anything to ground him in this moment. His mind spirals, a dark carousel of thoughts, and in the haze of his misery, a single, shameful wish slithers in: If only someone would just… feed him. The thought is a knife twist, a secret so ugly it burns.
“Intern!”
The voice snaps him back like a rubber band, and he jerks his head up, blinking like he was surfacing back from within deep waters. Secretary stands there, arms crossed, his expression a mix of amusement and mild confusion. The intern’s face splits into a grin so wide it feels like sunrise, his relief tangible as he straightens up, shoulders squaring despite the invisible weight that remained coiled in his gut like a snake.
Secretary tilts his head, studying him with a fond and confused look. “Huh. Didn’t peg you for the spaced out type,” they comment sternly, though their tone is gentle. “You’re usually so… here.”
They wave a hand dismissively, as if to brush off the oddity, but the intern just nods, swallowing the groan that threatens to escape as another pang lances through his stomach.
“We’re clocking out,” the secretary continues, “all the patients are checked in, the moon's setting, and it’ll be time to hand off to the day shift soon.”
A beat of silence. Then, the intern’s voice, soft but hopeful: “Does that mean I won’t be alone?”
The secretary blinks, their head tilting slightly, as if the question is as perplexing as a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Yeah,” they say, deadpan. “That’s what I just said. The day shift is coming in next.”
Intern's ears, round, ever so soft and expressive things, flick downward just a fraction, as if weighed down by the gravity of his own thoughts. Hunger. It’s a living thing now, coiled in his ribs, gnawing at his insides with relentless patience. He nods, forcing his voice steady despite the hollow ache in his throat. “I’ll stay a bit longer,” he says, “I’m feeling restless.” The words taste like ash, but they buy him time.
Secretary had only offered a curt nod, already turning away as they call out their goodbyes to him and Nurse, who waves enthusiastically before bustling off to tend to her patients. Intern exhales, his shoulders slumping like a marionette whos strings had just been snipped. For a heartbeat, he lets the facade drop. His ears droop lower, his spine curling inward as if to shield himself from the world. Then, with a sharp inhale, he digs his nails into the table, the pain a fleeting distraction from the emptiness clawing at his stomach.
Intern's mind was a mess, a sharp whirlwind of frayed edges and jagged thoughts of satisfying his hunger. He counts every breath to escape his nostrils, every smile he delivered to his superiors with the hidden hunger behind it, every carefully measured word he delivered to them designed to make them happy and proud of him, how much restraint it took to not shatter. To remain the good coworker he wanted to be, the good intern, the one who doesn't unravel or snap. How much it costs to keep everything buried within him.
The question slithers in like a blade looking to cut. If they knew, if they saw the cracks, the slight twitches when he's antsy, the way he breathes deeper than them, the way he's sensitive to photos and cameras, how much he likes coffee, trembling hands. Would they soften? Would they ease up and be a bit kinder to him, just a little, if they knew who he really was? What he really goes through and endures to not snap?
A silent whine of sadness claws its ways up his throat and escapes now that nobody's near to hear him. He doesn't want to hurt anybody, he never has, he tries so hard to make sue he never does, to make sure he appears normal and sane. He never asked for this fate, he never asked to be turned into an anomaly, a thing out of place amongst the others, a stain that's ugly and is to be wiped away. His fingers dug into his palms, claws biting into skin, a silent scream to snap out of all this negativity..
His thoughts spiraled in the air like a storm, a chaos of longing for relief from the hunger and exhaustion, but he knows what he'll have to do to satisfy the hunger. He obviously would never in a million years eat one of his coworkers, and there were no anomalies in the hospital. Secretary made sure of it. Maybe a Mimic, but it would transform in front of Nurse, and Intern obviously can't just eat it in front of her. His vision blurs, tears almost well up, until a moment..
The abrupt sound of a chime bell lingers like a held breath, suspended in the air. Welcoming him, presenting itself to him, like a Christmas gift.
An orange rabbit with a coat the shade of a setting sun limps into the hospital with their curled tail adorned behind them. Intern's nostrils twitch. The rabbit's ears reciprocate the same twitching motion as they glance around the semi-empty hospital that bustled with little to no energy. Their gaze lands on Intern and they hesitate for a moment, shoulders tensing, their voice barely reaching higher than that of a whisper. "Sorry.." they say, nervously. "Are you guys closing up now?"
Intern blinks, his senses narrowing to the faintest trace of something other clinging to the rabbit's fur, a scent like ozone and wildflowers, something that didn't belong, something wrong. Out of place surely. His pulse quickens before his head landed on the word. Anomaly. Or how it instead registered to the hungry Intern, meal. But before he could overthink it, he's on his feet, crossing the room in a few quick strides.
He leans against the desk before immediately forcing himself upright to straighten as if the motion was accidental, his posture shifting into something more casual, like you'd expect of a hospital Intern who's about to ring you up. More normal, a bit of performative nervousness.
"We are," he says, a smile forming on his face. He didn't have to force this one, he was practically over the moon. He finally had a meal, and it was standing right in front of him, in such an unlikely moment, too. "but we can certainly take in one more patient! No skin off our backs!"
"Are you.. sure?" the orange meal responded. "I'd hate to bother your Nurses,"
"Nope!" Intern almost growls, although it plays off as just insistent selflessness due to the orange rabbit's obliviousness. Adapting to civilization gave Intern abilities that other anomalies didn't have. If Intern was face to face with one, he'd know, but they wouldn't. "It's never a bother! I'll just sign you right up!"
The orange's anomaly's lips curved into a shy and polite smile as they set their papers down on the desk for Intern to stamp. Intern catches the smallest flicker of a twitch from the orange rabbit, a muscle spasming, a limb trembling, before they school their features into stillness.
Intern's pen hovered over the forms for a fraction of a second too long, his fingers pressing down with unnecessary force and pressure as he tried his hardest to shake off the pit of hunger in his stomach, the drips of saliva forming in his mouth that he had to force down. He told himself to be patient, if he rushes this, he'll mess it up. His throat worked itself overtime swallowing against the flood of saliva rising in his mouth, thick and desperate, trying it's hardest to lubricate his throat for the meal his stomach couldn't wait to digest. One more hour, he told himself. One more patient, it's been a day, but felt more like an entire lifetime of hollow gnarling at his bones, of his body screaming for something, anything to fill the void, the absence in his gut.
"So, what's the reason for your visit today?" he asked the orange rabbit, proud of how steady his voice was.
The anomaly's reply was only a lazy shrug, all nonchalance, likely didn't have an answer ready, he thought. "Oh, you know. Typical check-in stuff. Figured I'd stop by."
Intern's ears twitched, betraying his focus before he can cool his features. Intern forced himself to move forward, to saunter toward the camera that overlooks the medical halls. His stomach twists and turns, a serpent of want and dread coiling tighter with each step he took. Nurse is still there, with the last two patients, fixing them up before it'll be time for them (and her) to leave, before Intern will be alone with this patient. His pulse hammers in his throat at the thought that he might not get this anomaly alone. The thought is a spark in a dry tinder, and for the first time in a few hours, his hunger was less of a growing ache and annoyance and more of a true promise. A lifeline to him. But what if he was too late?
The orange rabbit's ears flick forward toward Intern, their golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they studied him as observed his slightly frantic behavior with all the pacing and insistent checking of the cameras. "You doin' alright?" they ask, voice soft, but coated with (performative) concern. Intern always thought it was funny and slightly cute when anomalies would ask his coworkers questions like that, really trying their best to blend in.
Intern's response was automatic and fast, nothing less of a reflex that had been carved out of years of conditioning from his environment. "I'm fine!" he responded, too quickly, and too bright; "Just, a bit restless tonight. You know?" The lie sat like ash on his tongue, but he forced it down, smiling at his prey.
The coffee machine chimed with completion, a sharp sound in the quiet and tense atmosphere. Intern snapped into action, ringing up the anomaly patient, snatching a photo with the click of the Animal Corp issued camera sitting on the desk. The flash was a tiny explosion of light that made the anomaly flinch, their body tensing up like a drawn bowstring. Their eyes shifted for a moment, Intern caught.
"Sorry!" he blurts out, already backpedaling. "Photos are just a bit of standard procedure now. Animal Corp told us all to take them of anyone who comes in for a check-up." His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but his mind was elsewhere. On the grainy, blurry mess of a photo that laid on the desk. Just as he suspected, just as he smelled . The anomaly's discomfort and nervousness was practically a living thing, radiating off of their disguised body in waves, eating at Intern. He was afraid that the anomaly would get too nervous and just snap instantly, transforming right then and there, lunging at Intern, biting his arm, which would alert Nurse who would come fast and chase them off. And he'd lose his meal.
He had to act fast to ease the anomaly of their discomfort. Intern coughed. "Sorry, don't mind that," he lied. "This camera is really low quality. They should send us a new one already. All the photos, so grainy!"
Intern registered them into the PC system and pressed the button on the printer to begin printing out the nametag, then picks up the photo, holding it out to the anomaly patient almost apologetically. The rabbit did not take kindly to it, no anomaly ever did. Their ears had flattened, their tail curling inward defensively almost like question mark, and the air between the two grew heavier, charged with unspoken frustration on both ends, for different reasons.
The badge clattered out of the machine with a metallic ping, the name "Aiko Yamamoto" glaring him up in stark black letters on a blue nametag. Intern snatched the badge up, pressing it into the anomaly's paws with a smile that felt like a betrayal to his own exhaustion and anticipation. "Here you go!" Intern chirped, the words too bright and cheerful, and he cringed at them wondering if it was giving his facade away. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm sure the procedure feel a bit.. invasive."
The rabbit's form hadn't budged, unhappy, unyielding, but they smoothed over it regardless with an awkward and ever so stiff smile. "Thanks," they had murmured, already turning toward the hallway desperate to exit the atmosphere that made them feel so.. watched over. " "I'll be in Room 7."
As soon as they had rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight, Intern moved like a man possessed with will. He no less than lunged for the coffee machine like a starved animal, his hands shaking as he yanked a mug from the stack (didn't even know if it was his own stack or someone else's) and slammed it beneath the dispenser. The machine whirred to life quickly, and he couldn't wait, he didn't. He poured, the dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim threatening to spill over any second now. He lifted the beverage up to his lips and drank, relishing the sanity it bought his mind. Scalding his tongue, burning his throat, in a way that felt like it should have hurt, but it didn't, so he did't care. He chugged it, the heat a lifeline in his storm of hunger.
A thought had slithered into the Intern's mind in that moment, what if Barney comes by and wants some coffee? He'd have to wait three whole minutes for another cup. Barney would be pissed, and Intern didn't like upsetting him.. he was his friend. But he couldn't bring himself to care, his sanity was just a fraying thread at this point, dangling by a single trembling fiber threatening to snap a release his cannibalistic instincts.
Intern's heart was a drumbeat in his throat as he sprinted back to the monitors to check, his breath coming in sharp and incredibly uneven gasps. The screens flickered to life and his eyes locked on the medical halls. Nurse is done, both patients attended to, but only one remains in recovery, with him. The last one was in the East Wing, leaving the West Wing empty and dark, all his..
A shiver ran down his spine, not from the cold emptiness of the hospital after most of his coworkers clocked out to finally go home and sleep through the sun rising, but from the thrill of it. This was it, finally! . His shot, all his, his moment, he didn't hesitate. He bolts from the office's corridor, past the door, his paws pounding against the linoleum, his mind already racing ahead to the west wing, to the promise of food, to the thought of satiating his hunger. Then,
“AH!”
The scream had torn through the air like a sharp knife, and Intern froze, his body locking up mid-step. Nurse stands there, her hands flying up in front of her face, her eyes widened from the shock. "Ah- sorry, Intern!" she wheezes, laughter bubbling up despite the adrenaline and scare. "Haha, you're kinda scary when you pop out from behind random doors like that, ya know? I thought you were an anomaly!" her voice is breathless, her grin sheepish but bright and true.
The intern’s chest heaves, his pulse roaring in his ears. Close. Too close.
The word anomaly spun around in his mind like a broken record, like it was just a cruel joke wrapped in a whisper. "Wouldn't that be funny if true?" he forced out, his voice hollow and brittle. "Haha! Are you clocking out now?" he asks, the words automatic, his mind already elsewhere, set on the east wing, on the last patient, and the thing waiting for him in the west wing.
"Yup, I am." Nurse chirped, her voice bright as she playfully shoves Intern's shoulder, her fist light but jarring against his bones. "See ya tomorrow! Well- err- not tomorrow. We work nights, but y'know, see ya soon, that's what I meant!"
She flashed the rabbit a grin over her shoulder and she sauntered off, her steps light, carefree. He wondered how she did it sometimes, with such a stressful job! The moment she was out of his sight, his fingers pressed lightly and softly into the spot she hit, the warmth of her touch lingering on his fur like a brand. A flicker of something unfurls in his chest, hope? Warmth. The thought coils through him, fragile and nice. Maybe they enjoy my presence more than I thought, he thinks. Maybe, if they knew the truth, they'd understand. Nurse treats him like a younger brother, he muses, the idea both comforting and all too suffocating.
But then, a door creaks open in the east wing. The last patient was exiting, fully recovered. The west wing was empty, alone, with an anomaly waiting, arms crossed, probably thinking they're about to eat Intern. They had no idea it was about to be the other way around, that was his meal. The realization slams into him rough like a freight train. His pulse had spiked, his vision tunneling, no more time. The next shift employees could arrive any second, he has to move, now.
-
Intern slipped into the west wing section of the hospital, his breath shallow, digits brushing against the cold and scratchy metal of the doorframe entering into the chamber he just trapped his meal in, grounding himself in the moment. His gaze then flicked upward, locking onto and scanning the camera that was placed securely above the door. A flicker of static escaped and pulsed from the camera's glass eye, alive yet incredibly blind. Electricity leaked from its seams like a dying breath, a telltale sign of an unworking camera, a system down, unplugged, unseeing, that wouldn't record his actions. Perfect for him, what a lucky bunny he was.
He let out an exhale, the sound a quiet and excited whisper against the sterile and cold air, and he took a step into Room 7. The baby blue curtains had been peeled back like the room itself was gasping in anticipation, but when his eyes landed on the anomaly in bed, he quickly realized that they peeled them back themselves, likely nervous. Intern wondered if the anomaly was somehow aware of Intern's hidden motives, or that Intern was also an anomaly.. Surely not, though. The orange anomaly lay sprawled across the body, their fire-colored body curled like a question mark, arms crossed over their chest, their thumbs twiddling nervously in waiting. Their claws sharp as surgical tools glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights of the room that occasionally flickered. But it was their eyes that arrested him, wide, gold-flecked orbs that brimmed with confusion so raw. They landed on his and the anomaly seemed to soften up.
But once the anomaly realized that Intern was by themselves, no other presence in the deep hospital, they once again tensed up. Their head swiped from side to side, scanning their surroundings. They lifted themselves up to see out the door, sure someone else would come, but no. "...You're gonna be the one to treat me?" their voice rough like gravel underfoot, but the tremor beneath it revealed something else, almost like fear, like they just had a wrench thrown in their plans or they were wondering if this was gonna go the way they thought it would. "What- are you understaffed or something like that?"
Intern tilted his head, the motion slow and deliberate as he thought of what to do next. The cream-colored bunny practically had everything he needed in his hands right now, he didn't want to blow it, ruin it so to say. A question posed not so much to the anomaly but to himself. I guess you could put it like that, he thought, the words curling in his skull like smoke and he couldn't help but curve a smile across his face. "Yes, he answered aloud to his meal, voice steady despite the storm inside him. He wasn't gonna blow it, he was gonna play it cool. Make them feel relaxed, trick them into letting their guard down, then he'd swallow them up like a python. "I will, but don't you worry your little head. It's not like I'm gonna kill you, it's just a heart scan, and Nurse taught me a lot about this stuff!"
He crossed the room, stepping over to his food laying in the bed to set them up with some of the devices and whatnot, his steps deliberately soundless on the linoleum tile. When his hand brushed against the anomaly's fur, something inside him virtually burst. A geyser of excitement erupted within his chest, fiery and passionate but so violent it stole his breath. His stomach lurched, a traitorous flip of adrenaline that left him pretty lightheaded. God, he was so excited. Not just eager but fully ravenous in the way a starving man would salivate at the sight of a freshly cooked feast all for him. His fingers trembled nervously with the weight of so much excitement as he reached for the monitor, the cords and the machines, to hook them up to his "patient" for what they believed was about to be their heart scan. He imagined the wires sneaking around the anomaly's limbs like hungry snakes tightening when they'd thrash. Maybe the cords would then tear at the anomaly's skin, causing them to have to submit to Intern's teeth and drool. Maybe it'd anchor them and keep them from resisting. They nearly shuddered in ecstasy at the thought.
"This procedure will go by as quick and as painless as it possibly can!" he promised, the lie smooth and unbothered as oil on water. His voice didn't waver and his hands didn't shake, he maintained his composure. He noticed the anomaly soften but he could sell something lying beneath them: this anomaly thought they were about to have a meal. Little did they fucking know, right? That's what made this so exciting.
His face turned to the heart monitor, its screen blank and lifeless as ever. He noticed his reflection in the glass, and for a moment, forgot what he was about to do, and stared at it, let himself be entranced by it. Look at you, he thought to himself, slightly angry but more so numb than anything else tracing the lines of his face with his gaze. The face he had been forced to wear like a second skin for a while, stitched onto his bones against his will like a mask. The face that marked him as something other and something that would be seen as wrong on multiple levels in the eyes of his peers, the people he loved most.
A pang lanced through him, very sharp and very sudden. He just missed the old him, the one who hadn't needed to consume others to survive, even if it was a mercy to both the creature and to his friends, the ones he considered as family, even his coworkers who didn't like him, he imagined they'd think much more highly of him if they knew how many anomalies he took care of. But beneath the grief, revulsion, something flickered inside him. A stubborn ember of warmth and enthusiasm, a feeling of unshakeable belief that he could still help, that he WAS helping, by doing this and feeding on the anomalies, he was sparing others, one less monster to hurt someone. Sparing the anomalies too, as he knew first-hand that this life was hell. They were animals who needed to be put down.
A tear had priced at the corner of his orb, hot and traitorous to how he knew he should have been feeling. His spine locked, a shudder rippling through him so violently his foot began to tap nervously against the tile, giving his mental state away, a staccato rhythm against the floor, like a metronome counting down to something inevitable. The anomaly caught on..
Intern forced himself to turn back toward his food, their golden eyes wide and unblinking as ever, waiting on something, waiting on him. His stomach lurched and growled, desperate for food, Intern's nails digging into his palms forming crescent moon shaped markings.
The anomaly's gaze then locked onto Intern's lack of a tangible expression, it was blank. Something in there felt dark, sadistic. The contradictions there froze them solid as the anomaly read what the cream colored rabbit was feeling. Sadness, excitement, two emotions that typically wouldn't co-exist, yet swirled and danced in Intern's stomach and head like ink in water. The anomaly's breath hitched and stopped in their throat, their ribs constricting around themselves like an invisible hand had clamped around their chest in absolute fear. Their fangs bared instinctively, a wet gargle-sounding snarl tearing free from their throat, the green drool preparing in their mouth, though the moment their claw had twitched toward him, the reality of their situation settled in like a tidal wave caressing a sandy beach.
Oh.
The wires were a beartrap they saw and deliberately stepped in, the machine was a drooling maw they saw and deliberately laid in. The trap was something they presented themselves to like a gift, they walked into this, and allowed it.
Their stomach lurched, dropping like an unstable elevator into a pit of their gut like a stone tossed so far down a well never to see the surface or sun again. The realization hit them like an over the top physical blow: the Intern standing over them wasn't an intern, wasn't an employee of this hospital, likely lied about everything else. He was one of them, an anomaly just like the creature he was standing over, not here to help, here to consume and leave nothing behind.
The horror of it was living, alive and loud, coiling against their skull, squeezing until their vision blurred at the edges in fear, anger, confusion, stress, everything they were feeling, made them feel like they had to move fast. Their breath came in ragged panicked gasps, their claws desperately scrabbling against the sheets as if the fabric had the ability to somehow save or free them from this reality they willingly opened the door to, willingly painted themselves with. But the wires held fast and steady, biting into their skin with every tug, and every twitch of their body sent fierce and extreme fresh waves of fire dancing through their nerves, painful as shit. Their muscles locked in agony, their mind screaming a single endless word: What is he gonna do to me now? They didn't want to stick around to fight out but the cords fought against their every move for an escape.
The intern moved and bent down over the anomaly like a predator who had just caught the scent of fresh blood in the air, and he pounced.
His grip closed tightly around the anomaly's struggling wrists first, fingers digging in with bruising and painful force. The bed shuddered and rocked beneath them, the monitor above wobbling precariously threatening to fall and break as the anomaly thrashed, their body jerking against the restraints Intern trapped them in. The wires screamed in protest, biting deeper into their flesh with every desperate and raw movement, terrified. One cord taut as a bowstring tore free from the arm with a wet ripping sound. The anomaly's scream tore from their throat, a sound raw and guttural, torn from the depths of their soul laced with agony and rage.
The pain was white-hot and almost caused their vision to blur for a moment if not for the instincts screaming inside of them to fight. Searing through their nervous system like acid. Their vision whited out for a single endless second, their body convulsing as the wire dragged through muscle and tendon with a disgusting squelch noise, that sounded oh so delicious to Intern. They couldn't, they couldn't-
Intern didn’t hesitate. He seized the newly bleeding arm, his claws sinking deep into the torn flesh like sharp dagger hooks. The anomaly's shriek was music to his ears, like a dinner bell being rung. He twisted deep inside, ripped and the arm split, not cleanly or mercifully but jaggedly, like tearing wet paper in half from the middle. Green blood gushed in a hot and thick rush, splattering the navy blue mattress they lay on. The intern's face and his chest were not safe from the splatter either. Intern inhaled the scent of it, rich and coppery and very alive with torment, and the sound of it, the wet tearing squelch of muscle fibers parting, the sickening pop of tendons snapping agonizingly, sent a shudder of delight through his soul.
He threw his head back in the air like a predator truly basking in and enjoying the sight of his prey. His mouth gaped wide and the skin of his face split ear-to-ear. Not just his jaw, his entire face, peeling back like the petals of a grotesque dangerous flower. Sharp teeth glinted in the light and reflection of the anomaly's tear-coated golden eyes, long and needle thin but they sent a message. Beneath them a tendril like purple tongue, slick and glistening, uncoiled like a snake slithering out from underneath its rock, ready to constrict.
The anomaly's blood turned to ice as Intern revealed his own form, similar to theirs, but not quite. He didn't waste a second as he quickly clamped his mouth down on the anomaly's arm, his teeth sinking deep into the exposed flesh like a vice, and how his tongue savored the taste, swiping around trying to get as much of it as he could. The fat and muscle gave complete way beneath his bite force, the texture revolting and absolutely delicious to Intern all at once. He began to feed, not with the low methodical precision of a surgeon but with the frenzied desperation of a starving man on death row having his final feast.
His head ducked, dove, ducked again each motion a blur of teeth and blood flying. He tore into the anomaly's shoulder like a rabid animal, his jaws working like a fast and dangerous machine, rending flesh from bone like it was a take apart and put back together toy. The anomaly writhed, their body bucking against the wires but the restraints held fast and unmoved. Another cord tore free from their skin with a wet rip and a pop, opening a fresh gash that leaked green blood. The anomaly's vision swam, their breath coming in broken sobbing gasps in agony and excruciating pain and terror.
Help, please, oh God please, but there was no help, no mercy, only teeth and hunger and the sound of feeding, a wet obscene rhythm that filled the room like second heartbeat. For Intern, it literally was. His stomach was finally full, the swirling and screaming painful pit finally filled.
In the anomaly's mind, there was only one possibility for escape, they had to fight, they had to. Their face tore open with a wet rending sound, skin split open like overripe fruit, revealing rows and rows of needle sharp teeth beneath, glistening with blood-tinted slime and pain filled tears. Their breath arrived in ragged sensations, desperate gasps as their vision swam in a haze of pain and anger. They threw themselves on Intern with the fury of a last-ditch effort attacking prey animal.
But Intern quickly twisted away, anticipating the attack, his body moving with the precision of someone who perhaps had already been trained to avoid capture, like someone who's been through this. He smiled like he enjoyed the extra chase. The anomaly snarled angrily at him, gargling slime and blood his way, however he remained unmoved. Their claws swiped at empty air trying to catch him, and in their desperation, they misjudged their momentum and pounce. They crashed into Intern knocking both of themselves off of the bed, onto the ground hard, causing Intern's body to roll before he managed to scramble back on his two feet. But the anomaly was already turning, their golden eyes glistening with betrayal and rage, yet whispering pleas to live.
Intern dodged again, just barely this time, and the anomaly's claws once more grazed nothing but air, their jaw clamping on nothing but the empty space Intern created between himself and his defiant meal. The anomaly knocked him against more appliances once again, and the idea struck him like lightning. God, these anomalies are so fucking stupid sometimes. They need to stop teaching me new ideas, he thought to himself as his head hit the IV bag rack. The idea struck him like lightning, struck him.. like how he should strike this meal, and teach prey animals that they're on the bottom of the food chain for a damn reason.
He seized the rack, his movements frantic and desperate to reclaim what he worked for. He slammed it down on the anomaly's head rough and hard. The impact was nothing short of absolutely sickening, a wet crunching crack that echoed through the room like a gunshot fired at maximum velocity. The anomaly's skull split and stuck open, forest green ichor gushing out in a thick streaming torrent coating the ground in numerous puddles filled with brain matter chunks. They croaked, their body convulsing, their limbs twitching near lifelessly as the wires still attached to their skin and flesh and core ripped free with a wet sucking sound setting their body free to fall. Green blood dripped rapidly from the tears in their flesh, pooling on the floor and creating mirrors for Intern to see his own form painted with, absolutely adorned in their misery.
For a single sickening and fleeting moment the anomaly had sat up, and their bloody hand reached for Intern. The cream rabbit squealed and jumped back, having thought that they finished the job efficiently.
Claws unsheathed and glistening with their own blood and Intern's handiwork, they hooked onto his gray hoodie, pulling him forward. Intern's stomach lurched at the smell and sight as the anomaly's claws tore into his flesh, giving him a taste of his own medicine. The monster split him open in a single, brutal motion, leaving Intern gasping for air in agony. Green blood, his blood, coated their claws, their hand and their wrists, dripping onto the floor in a steady rhythmic drip, drip, drip.
The anomaly opened their mouth once more, but this time not to fight. Their voice broke through barely above a broken whisper, their breath ragged as ever and their eyes wide and filled with something even worse than just pure physical pain. "You're also one of us, aren't you?" they gasped out. "We're the same, are we not? We're the same! We could satisfy both of our hunger easily if you just help me instead! You don't have to-"
Intern froze dead in their tracks as the word sliced into them like a blade, his claws hovering over the anomaly's head still gripping the IV rack so rough they felt their paws were turning purple. His stomach growled, a demanding sound that had echoed throughout the room. His hunger was a living and furious thing at this point, clawing at his ribs for total freedom, screaming at him to feed and disregard whatever his snack was saying in a desperate attempt to free themselves from their fate, but his hands wouldn't move.
A laugh bubbled up from his throat, arriving sharp and bitter, like he was trying to laugh something off, or like the anomaly had just said something totally funny. But nothing was funny here. "N,No," he stammered, his voice cracking under pressure. "We're nowhere near the same. I'm doing this so no one has to suffer like I already do, I, I'm good!"
The anomaly's breath hitched in pain and confusion, their chest rising and falling in shallow and desperate gasps. They coughed a wet choking sound trying to understand what Intern was replying, but they couldn't understand him. They couldn't understand what it was like to try and remain civilized in a body that was constantly trying to drive you to do terrible things. Green blood flecked their lips, their voice reaching weaker volumes.
"But, we are the same," they rasped out. "You're bleeding green too.. are we not made of the same flesh and blood? Why-"
Something inside Intern immediately snapped, like a twig someone put far too much pressure on. He yelled, "STOP!" his voice raw with anger yet laced with denial. "Stop TALKING about it! I don't wanna know! I don't wanna be like this! I don't wanna be like you!"
His hands moved once more, propelled by emotion this time rather than instinct before he could even think of stopping them. The IV rack came down again, crashing into the anomaly's skull with a wet and final crack. Their head lolled backward unnaturally like a marionette with its strings cut. Then its head fell hitting the hard tile with a loud thud and sickening splat. The skull split open, bone fragments scattering like shrapnel in a battlefield, green ichor and mushy chunks of brain matter oozing out in a grotesque parody of childbirth. The coppery scent of blood and victory filled the air, thick and cloying, and Intern's stomach heaved. He nearly vomited at his own work.
For a long moment, he just stared. The anomaly’s body was nothing but a ruin, at this point. Green blood had successfully gushed full from every wound, every crevice that Intern was the artist of, pooling on the sheets and dripping onto the floor. Intern's hands could only tremble at this point as he reached out, his claws brushing against the anomaly’s lifeless fingers. He wiped some of the green blood onto his own face, the texture slick and warm against his skin. He licked it off as an appetizer before his full meal, his stomach then growled again, a reminder.
A demand. He pattered his feet out of the room and checked the hallway for confirmation that the building, his personal restaurant, was empty. It was silent and alone, as it was before he went for the kill.
Satisfied, he crept back into the room, his paws sinking into the mess that he and he alone had created. He dropped to his knees frantically, his claws digging into the anomaly's flesh and blood. He split their face open again, peeling back the ruined skin that he alone destroyed and scooped up chunks of muscle and fat shoving them into his mouth greedily. The taste was wrong and admittedly disgusting, coppery bitter and alive, but he didn't care, he fed.
His hunger was that of a ravenous beast and it demanded to be sated by any means necessary. Once he was finally done with his food, he wiped the blood and innards from his mouth with the back of his hand, a small wet burp escaping his lips. He patted his hoodie down that had been coated in guts and blood.. he'd have to clean that later. He patted his soft stomach lightly, as if soothing a fussy child who had eaten too much and was now struck with a stomach ache. The room was practically a slaughterhouse, patient bed ruined and the floor was slick with blood and ichor he spilt.
He should clean it, logically, because leaving evidence of his crime isn't a good idea if he didn't want to be caught. But every second more that he'd spend in the hospital was a second closer to being caught. He cursed the circumstances that forced him to do this, uttered an apology, not just to the universe, but to whoever would have to scrub this absolute mess from the floors, walls, bed and their mind. A prayer, a plea for forgiveness.
Then he slipped out of the room quietly, his paws squelching in the blood, his stomach still aching and still hungry. He forced himself not to gag as the image of what he had just done replayed in his mind. He should have felt better, satisfied, but he didn't, he forced himself not to gag and to keep his food that he worked hard for down, and he told himself that this was necessary. He told himself he'd feel better later, he always does, because he does this constantly and he hadn't been caught yet.
~ ~ ~
The morning sun had clawed its way over he horizon, casting long skeletal shadows across the gravel coated parking lot of the Animal Corp Hospital. A sleek black coated shiny sedan rolled up to a stop in front of the building tires crunching over the chalky gravel driveway. The car's engine died down with a quiet sigh and for a moment the only sound one could hear was the distant chirping of birds, present in the moment, ignoring the rot hiding within the building they perched atop of.
Head Nurse stepped out first, their heels clicking against the pavement as they adjusted their button-down uniform. They turned to the security guard, who was still hunched over in the passenger seat meticulously rifting through his bag. His fingers pressed over a sleek dark-blue taser, checking the charge before tucking it back into its holster with practiced ease. A holstered gun (that secretly only shot out rubber bullets) rested at his hip, its presence almost an afterthought. A few spare magazines, a flashlight and a security camera completed the ensemble. The noises of him rummaging through the bag made Head Nurse nearly smirk.
"So, you're like, actually sure about working overtime." Head Nurse asked, their voice light but laced with something sharper, like a tease. They tilted their head, studying him with an amused smirk. "Need I remind you? You're a nightshift guard for a reason, you're not exactly a day person, haha. Imagine if some little kid gets lost and needs your help to find their mommy and daddy. you'd absolutely traumatize the little shit."
The bluish-gray cat scoffed, slamming his bag shut with more force than what was necessary, powered by irritation before taking the bag and stepping out of Head Nurse's car. "You know the day-shift security guard quit after some 'injury on the job', right?" he spat the words out like they were rotten, air-quoting the phrase with a sneer. "They called me up and went, hey, we're forcing you to do this or we're cutting your pay in half."
Head Nurse grinned at the answer, tossing their keys back into the front seat of their car. "Well, all things considered, good luck. And just remember to pay me back for gas money on time.. or else!" they said, teasingly. With that they hopped back into the car, revved the engine and sped off before he could retort. Security rubbed his face, groaning as he turned toward the building.
The early morning light was wrong, at least compared to what he was used to. Too bright, far too sterile, too alive compared to the quiet and cold darkness that he had adjusted his life to. Like the world had flipped upside down, he was used to the dark. The moonlit skies and the quiet hum of the hospital at night and the screens of the cameras, empty and still, but dawn was for people who wanted to be awake this early. He wasn't one of those people.
He adjusted his cap, squinting against the sunlight and cursing it under his breath. He mad his way to the hospital entrance, the automatic doors sliding open with a quiet whoosh, and as expected, he was the first one there.. as usual. A hollow sense of pride had flickered in his chest, always the first, but it was quickly drowned out by the familiar weight of exhaustion that swallowed him whole. He pauses for a second, thinking about how proud he used to feel about being the first one there, but now it just feels like another thing to resent. His bones ached, his eyelids heavy as lead. Two years of this schedule, of being up at night for this shitty graveyard job, had carved him into something that didn’t fit the daylight world. His body didn’t get the memo that it was supposed to be awake during daylight hours, and it showed. The lack of sleep had carved deep grooves under his eyes, and his reflexes were slower than they used to be, but they were decent enough to continue getting the job done. He prided himself on his reliability and his consistency.
He walked into the office, his boots thudding against the linoleum tile, and immediately noticed the monitor on the wall. Three of the cameras were down, again, as usual. To no surprise to him..
A curse slipped out past his lips, low and bitter. "Of course," he muttered, shaking his head. "Why would Animal Corp fix them, or God forbid replace them, when they can just let them rot? At least that's free!"
The glow of the hospital's dying lights flickered as he stepped out of the check-in office, his boots scuffing against the tile in a rhythm that communicated exhaustion and resignation, three cameras down, two still clinging on, one of them his own just being freshly installed n front of the check-in. A snarl twisted from his throat out into the cold air as he cursed Animal Corp for their greed, their laziness, their refusal to do absolutely anything beneficial for the sake of the employees. They'd rather cut corners until the bones of the hospital croaked and groaned under the weight of the severe neglect they were subjected to. It was a fucking hospital, for sick people, it was supposed to be safe! What safe environment doesn't even have working security systems??
The main lobby had loomed ahead in front of Security, its broken bulbs attached to the vaulted ceiling dimming and flickering light that made Security's eyes sting and burn ever so slightly. Above the double doors the camera hung like a broken down star, its wires writhing sparking and spitting electricity in jagged rows that hissed against the wall like a nest of angry wasps who just had their nest disturbed. He dragged a stack of metal chairs lined up in the lobby to serve as the waiting room beneath it, their legs screeching against the floor with a noise worse than the camera spitting electricity. Security climbed up on the chairs, the acrid tang of failing and slightly burnt metal stinging his nostrils as he reached up to wrestle the dying machine into submission until it worked the way it should. "Two more," he muttered, the words hollow against his throat.
But the hallway beyond him was a different beast entirely to be tamed, a place where the raw stench of spoiled meat and something far fouler curled around him, teasing him and clinging to his clothes, his skin, his throat. He told himself it was just vomit a patient had spilled, no blame to them. This place was disgusting. It needed a janitor beside that black cat who came in every now and then, calling themselves the maid. Just another mess to scrub away once he fixed the cameras. The east wing camera was easy, stacked chairs and then just a simple perfunctory twist of the base, a flick of the switch. But the west wing called to him like a siren's song, its darkness deeper, its silence far heavier and poisonous until his foot tapped against the tile with how unsettling it felt.
He had to go look, he had to see. He couldn't not see, despite the screaming inside him insisting to turn the other way.
The failing lights of the ceiling hummed to him like a swarm of hungry insects, their sickly yet faintly hypnotizing glow flickering against the air with an erratic pulse that nearly matched that of Security's. The air was thick with the scent of something absolutely primal, metallic, warm and cloying like a coin pressed against his tongue. It clung to his throat thick and suffocating and with every inhale the scent seemed to just swim deeper into his sinuses, rooting itself against his brain.
He adjusted the strap of his toolkit, the weight of it familiar and reassuring but even that small comfort failed to dull the edge of unease that gnawed at him. The hospital was never not a place of sterile order, beeping monitors and hurried footsteps, but today it felt like a corpse left too long out in the sun. His boots squeaked against the tile as he moved, the sound too loud in the oppressive and suffocating quiet.
He paused, tilting his head as he tried to land on the familiar scent. He would never admit this to anyone but he wished that he were a dog sometimes, so he would have an easier time at catching these unfamiliar scents. The blood.. it was blood, wasn't it? He knew what blood smelled like and this scent was unmistakable. He looked down and noticed dried crusts of brownish-red crust on the floor, between the tiles. It led straight into the heart scan room, a grotesque path of crimson puddles that grew even bolder and larger the further he got like it was beckoning him to come and see what lay within the room. His breath hitched.
The door stood ajar, a sliver of darkness gaping like an opened wound. He choked down his inner thoughts to turn tail and run, but he drew his weapon instead and chose to creak open the door, and a scent that was far more disgusting hit him almost immediately, worse than the whispers.
His pulse hammered in his ears intensely, a drumbeat of dread, every fiber of his training was screaming at him that he had to turn away, call it in, let someone else discover this and then lose their lunch and sleep, but what kind of security guard walked away from a room that leaked of carnage? How would he even carry on with his shift knowing something had to have been in there?
Swallowing hard as ever, he stepped a foot forward. His paw arched on the rubber gun strapped to his hip, the door groaned as it swung open, revealing a scene that would had haunt him long after the lights in the hospital already burned out.
The heart scan machine lay on its side beside the victim, its cables writhing like snakes that had lost their heads across the floor. The tips were coated with bright green, clear evidence that whoever they’d been attached to had separated from them unsatisfyingly. The body (or whatever was left of it) was glued to the floor beside the stained bed, his chest an absolutely pulverized ruin of nothing but crushed bone and ravaged meat, his ribs splayed open like the wings of a broken bird. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, seeping into the cracks of the tile floor, painting the walls in arterial green spray. His face was frozen in a display of pure agony and fear, eyes wide and unseeing and so, so lifeless, mouth clawed open in a silent scream as his jaw was stretched and clearly broken. His purple tendril tongue was stretched out on the ground lie all they could do in their last moments was howl.
Security saw this countless times, this was nowhere near his first. This was an anomaly, so at least it wasn't a normal patient that had died, but.. who would do this? The whole team already agreed that anomalies were animals who needed to be put down fast and painlessly. They didn't know who they were, what they were doing, only that they needed to eat. Who would mutilate it so viciously? Whoever did this was sick, he thought. Must have been another anomaly.
He shakily took out his flashlight, and shined it at the mess to see more intricately, in case there were any clues or something. All that unfolded before him were the same horrors in more grotesque vivid and disgusting detail, each glistening morsel of it standing out like a nightmare he was cursed with. "Oh God-" the words spilled from his throat and threatened to bring vomit with it too as he stared at the mess before him. Brain matter splattered across the tile and floor like discarded confetti from some unspeakable feast, glistening viscous and eaten. His stomach lurched, his vision swimming as his mind spiraled through the unthinkable: A patient, attacked, fought back surely. But who could be strong enough to do this? Anomalies aren't weak by any means. And why? Why the hell would anyone eat like this? Was it another anomaly?
His hand flew to his mouth instinctively before he had the ability to stop it, fingers pressed hard against his lips as if he could shove the horror back down his throat and forget about this. He hunched over, his body betraying him as his stomach twisted into knots so tight he feared they'd never unravel. Tears burned behind his eyes, he wasn't sad, but it was because of the violent display in front of him.
In all his years.. all his years.. he'd never seen anything like this before, not in this hospital, not in any place he'd ever worked. Nowhere. "Jesus Christ," the sentence was a prayer, a curse, a plea for mercy maybe. He retched, bile raising in his throat threatening to spill any given moment now. His claws dug into the tile as if he could somehow anchor himself to reality and that this was just a nightmare. His fur stood on end, every nerve alight with repulsion and disgust. Anomalies are fucking disgusting. The thought slithered through his mind, a mantra of sheer unadulterated disgust and anger. He wished more than anything that he could unsee this. That he could unfeel it, how unpleasant.
And worst of all, I have to clean this now don't I? he thought, wanting to spray vomit then and there.