Chapter Text
A ringtone breaks through the silence of the night. Soft and pleasing, yet paradoxically loud and grating, this noise wakes the sole occupant of a sparse but lived in bedroom.
A young, barely cognizant man opens his eyes to fumble around his bedside table for his square framed glasses. Trying to both wipe the crust out of his eyes and reach for the device currently interrupting his - admittedly poor - sleep, Marcelle stifles a yawn.
Staring blankly at the device, he recognizes the number, but not the caller. What could the company want at this ungodly hour?
Despite it not being wise to keep any corporate affairs waiting, Marcelle can't help but wonder what could they even want from him this late into the evening. It's not like he's had much to do aside from simple administrative tasks after they -
Deciding to cease that particular train of thought before it began, a simple swipe of the finger picks up the incoming call as he twists around in a vain attempt to untangle himself from the cocoon of sleep.
"Good evening, Handler Marcelle Lewitt," an unfamiliar female voice sounds out from the speaker. "This is Research Officer Hadley Simmons, We have confirmed touchdown with your assigned subject. E-513 is alive and well-"
"What?" he blurts out, suddenly more awake than he's been in the past week. "She's-"
"Handler Marcelle, please hold your comments until after I have finished giving the news."
In his state, he knocks over a few miscellaneous objects onto the floor trying to lunge out of bed. Even though he could almost feel the admonishing glare of Research Officer Simmons at his 'unprofessionalism' through the phone, he didn't particularly care at the moment.
"As I was saying, the Experiment has been returned alive, and we are holding it for questioning. We request your presence as its Handler, for it is being difficult with us. Please report to Holding Wing 5 immediately."
Despite the multiple extremely worrying choice phrases in that sentence, Marcelle doesn't delay and stumbles out of bed to get dressed in to more appropriate attire.
"Uh... Sor- my apologies, ma'am. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for alerting me about thi-"
Not hearing anything from the other end, he checks the screen. Disconnected. Of course.
...
Evie...
Where have you been?
The Experiments. They're a "mix of fox, rat and human DNA." according to rumor. Nobody Marcelle knows has any familiarity with how they were initially made, what in the world the Company was doing with them, nor what the corporation's plans for them were, yet they still exist and are still being produced to this day.
The species as a whole average out to be slightly shorter than humans, and are covered entirely in black fur. The only exception to this is the lower third of their tails being a bright orange. They possess a facial structure similar to species in the order rodentia and canidae family, but with three vestigial cartilaginous 'nubs' or horns pointing backwards out from the back of their skulls. Not possessing external ears, they instead have sheer holes that are similar to the ones found in the aves class for hearing. Four clawed fingers on their hands and digitigrade legs with pink pawpads on their feet. Bright orange eyes would often stare back at Marcelle as he made his rounds before he was assigned to his singular Subject, E-513.
Thinking of Evie brings back unpleasant memories of her being suddenly tasked to an 'expedition' to some far off planet. After all that time building a rapport with her, bonding with her, taking care of her, it's mind boggling that the Company is willing to throw all of that effort out the window on seemingly a whim for something they didn't even deign to disclose any details of. Any and all of his protests and inquiries amounted to an effort similar to talking to a stone brick wall. Throughout the five months that she's been away, she's barely left Marcelle's thoughts.
...but Evie being 'returned alive'? For 'questioning'? What the hell was Simmons on about?
Somehow managing to forget his wallet inside, twice, Marcelle locks the front door to his loaned property from the Company as he steps out into the dead of night.
And what did she mean by being difficult? The Experiments in general could vary wildly, but he knows Evie. He knows that painfully shy, yet still polite Experiment. He knows how reserved she is, and how she'd never be intentionally antagonistic, especially towards the other researchers. He knows this because - even with her being standoffish towards almost anybody that tried to talk to her - she would only ever truly confide in a very select few. He, himself, was one of them after all.
Having prepared as much as could have with such little information provided to him, Marcelle steps into his vehicle, mind awhirl with endless possibilities as to what has happened to Evie.
Closing the door behind him after unlocking it with his identification card, Marcelle steps into the Holding Wing proper. As he moves past the security checkpoint, a blonde woman approaches with quick strides - as if perpetually in a hurry.
"Handler Marcelle? I am glad you were able to come by promptly on such short notice," She starts walking away. "Follow me, if you would."
Mildly perturbed by the unprofessionalism but having put up with much worse in his time, he falls into stride next to her and tucks his identification card away.
"Ma'am... uh- could I ask you about Evi- Subject 513? Is she okay? I didn’t get much information on where she’d get sent off to. Is... How is she? You said she was 'being difficult'?" Marcelle inquires as they take a dizzying route through the building. It's strangely quiet and sterile, even at this hour.
Fluorescent bulbs overhead hum as their steps echo down the hallways. "Yes, the subject is proving uncooperative," Simmons replies. "It has not disclosed to us what it has accomplished during its mission, despite our clear orders."
His mind blazing - half with worry for Evie and half for ideas on what this 'mission' consisted of - Marcelle barely notices that they've already arrived at the holding room.
Simmons glances at him, motioning towards the door. "Well, take a look for yourself. It is in remarkable condition, especially compared to the other subjects. Do assist us in getting it to talk, yes?"
"...Yes ma'am."
With a troubled adjustment of his glasses, Marcelle anxiously opens the door to the holding room and feels a burst of cold air that raises his flesh. The first thing he sees is Evie.
It's her. It's her, she's here, but...
...
Evie is staring back with wide bloodshot orange eyes, glistening with unshed tears. "...Ma-" Her breath hitches.
"Marcelle?" she breathes, barely audible over the ventilation.
Sitting in that uncomfortable metal chair, he can see she's been hurt. Terribly so. She has a scar across the bridge of her snout and alongside her right cheekbone that carves a path through her fur, revealing the gnarled, orange flesh underneath. His eyes lock onto what looks like a poorly scarred over gunshot wound-
The chair Evie is sitting on gets knocked down onto the ground with a resounding clatter as she practically leaps out of it.
"MARCELLE!"
She dives at him with a full body tackle, knocking away the chair, colliding with the table and sending the both of them backwards, fresh tears now visibly streaming down her snout. Marcelle's back hits the wall from the sheer force behind the jump as Evie drags both of them to the ground.
"Oh... oh my god... Marc..."
Marcelle sits there in shock, reflexively wrapping his arms around the black furred missile turned keening wreck.
"Please... don't... I- I... please..."
Staring down at Evie - who's currently trying to crawl into his skin - he can see even more injuries down her back. A chunk, taken out of one of her 'horns'. More scarred cuts trail down her back.
"P- please... never..."
Gently caressing the fur on her back, Marcelle feels the horror and devastation that has been building within him swirl around and eventually settle in his skin as cold as ice, making him sick to his stomach.
"Handler... I..."
Evie's choked sobbing and semi-understandable babble devolve into non-verbal whimpers, whines and stilted gasps as she weeps into his midsection.
Her arm... - remaining arm... his mind disquietingly notes - grips onto him so hard that it nearly bruises. The claws on her hind legs clack continuously against the tile floor as she constantly tries to push herself further into his chest.
Marcelle cradles her the best he can with their position on the floor. "Oh god... Evie, what... what happened to you?" he whispers to her. On closer inspection, he notices that despite her coat appearing extremely disheveled, she doesn't appear to be in physical pain. No dressings of any kind to indicate injuries that are still healing and in need of attention.
"Where's.. Where did... your arm?..." He can barely think, seeing her like this. Placing his hand across the top of her head, he can feel her shaking. Feeling something that he doesn't expect, he brushes his fingers across a patch of makeshift fabric covering one of Evie's orbits.
"Your eye... Oh honey, your..." Marcelle does the best he can to reassure her. "You're safe now... you're here. I- I'm here."
He startles as a cough sounds out in the holding room, breaking his focus. He trails his vision up to see a severe looking gray haired man seated at the far side of the room watching them indulgently with an empty smile. The tag across his coat reads 'Senior Researcher Brennan'.
"Yes, yes. You're happy to see it," he continues on without regard, organizing a sheaf of paper that must have gotten jostled when Evie bumped into the table. "Now, we have far more pressing matters to attend to. Please, take a seat next to the asset and help it answer our questions, then we can discuss rehoming it with the other experiments."
They want to what? Marcelle nearly decides to raise hell right then and there, but the shifting, mewling weight in his arms makes him reconsider. He'll save his arguments for later, after he can leverage more information out of them.
He gently gathers up the shivering bundle of fur and limbs that is Evie, soothing her as he stands up off the floor and carries her to the only chair that isn't currently occupied or toppled over. As Marcelle sits down and settles her in his lap; she still doesn't relinquish her death grip on him.
The interrogation - which was conducted in alternating turns of intense questioning between Senior Researcher Brennan and Research Officer Simmons - takes a grueling amount of time. Some of the questions that were asked don't even make sense to Marcelle. Just what in the hell are they looking for down in that damned planet?
The whole time, Evie never stops trembling. She never responds to any queries outside of Marcelle himself asking the questions directly, and only then replying in hushed whispers back to him.
As the researchers confer with one another, Marcelle takes another look at Evie, who has her eye closed and her head tucked under her his chin.
"I would like to request that you don't rehome her with the other Experiments."
"What?" The pair of researchers turn over to meet Marcelle's eyes.
"As her assigned Handler, I would like to request that you don't rehome her with the other Experiments," he reiterates with a hesitant edge. "I would like to take direct custody of her."
"This is highly unusual." Brennan responds, throwing an inscrutable glance towards Simmons, then towards the papers in his hands before staring down an uneasy Marcelle. "Can you clarify on why you believe this is necessary?"
Marcelle nervously messes with the fabric of his pants. "Given her displays of asocial tendencies, rehoming her with the other Subjects will only prove detrimental to her wellbeing," the man rebuts. "...and for the Company's interests in the other subjects. There is nothing to gain from disrupting the main group of Subjects with the reintroduction of E-513, especially in her current state."
"What is stopping us from simply assigning a new Handler to get it compliant again?" questions Simmons, idly tapping her pen against the table.
"Reassigning Ev... Subject E-513 to a new Handler could prove to be a drain on company resources," Marcelle gestures to the Experiment currently positioned on his lap. "I can already get her to easily cooperate with orders, while she won't be as willing to follow somebody she doesn't recognize."
Another look passes between Brennan and Simmons. They start whispering to each other, and Marcelle can only barely make out partial phrases.
"-it's mutism-"
"-onresponsive to stimu-"
"-got our informa-"
After a moment, Brennan gestures to Simmons who stands up to leave the room. "Very well. We will be 'washing our hands' of this one as they say. As its Handler, we will discharge the subject into your care effective immediately. I have sent Research Officer Simmons to fetch the required paperwork. See to it that this will not reflect negatively on the company."
"Yes, sir."
Closing the door to his vehicle behind himself, Marcelle shifts Evie to nestle more comfortably into his lap. Taking a deep breath, he looks towards the rising sun on the horizon as one hand taps the steering wheel to an unknown tune while the other is placed around the barely responsive Experiment curled up on him.
"I've got you, honey. I've got you..."
Not willing to start the car just yet, Marcelle takes a moment to internalize what the hell just happened.
"Breathe... just breathe..."
Marcelle doesn't know if he's talking to himself or Evie as he buries his face into the top of her skull and lets out a few tears of his own.