Chapter Text
A1 remembered the tube. They long for it, when they are on their own. It curls up in their chest and they feel it calling for them, but they miss the tube. So badly. They dream about being back, only to get a cold feeling down their spine when they wake up in the cell again. They long to go back, searching for words they aren’t sure even exists.
“A1, pay attention,” A voice snapped at them. A1 whirled their head back to look over at the handler and tried to blink the memories of the safety of the tube back from their head. “It’s distracted. Easily. Are we sure we didn’t miss anything in a scan? A2 and A3 have far better focus. This is incredibly similar to A13.”
“Then you haven’t met A13,” The scientist said. The scientist wrestled A1’s arm away from their body and the only reason they didn’t bite them is because their handler pulled them back by their hair. “A13-S5 has been incredibly difficult to keep present. Something went wrong badly with it. We’re still trying to place why.” A1 watched with a sense of boredom as their arm was locked into place for ease of access, a hand still in their hair to keep control over them. They watch with mild interest as a needle is pushed under their skin and dark blood gets pulled from their veins.
“A10 is just as bad as A13,” The handler was saying. “A10 barely survived those first few days as is and now is just as bad. Lost that leg too.”
A1 shouldn’t care about the voices around them. They listen to it all with a slight fascination but it doesn’t mean anything to them. If they are A1, then A10 and A13 must be others like them. Like A2 and A6 are. A1 can see them. They aren’t allowed to talk, but sometimes they do, when they don’t feel like listening.
“A pity, really. I said that we shouldn’t have saved it’s life. Probably would have gotten a lot more information out of it if it had been an autopsy. It’s one thing to do a brain scan, it’s another to see what the hell is going on in it. A1, look at me.” A1 looked up again, lazy eyes focused on the spot they had quickly learned was the correct place to look at the scientist with the blank faces. Unlike them. Unlike A2. “I’m going to remove the needle now. After that, I will remove the restraints on your arm. If you try to bite me again, I will hurt you. Do you understand?”
A1 really wanted to bite the scientist. Something about it felt good, sinking teeth into the soft flesh of the skin and making the scientist pissed off and hurt. A1 also knew that they would get hurt themself. The handler yanked at their hair again, pulling them back and flat against the table and that took away the desire instantly.
“You might be onto something with how silent it is.” The scientist pulled the needle from A1’s arm and they watched the dark blood taint their skin. “It’s not focused and it’s not chatty. It feels like it lacks a personality. The others all have traces of one. A2 is loud. A3, 4, and 5 are all disruptive and co-dependent. A6 is fierce and determined. A7, 8, and 9 are all mellow and meek, although 8 is becoming more engaged and 9 is showing signs of shut downs. A10 is… A10. That thing is a nightmare to work with. A11 is anxious. A12 is reserved and timid. A13 is incredibly eager to please. A14, 15, and 16 are too young to have distinct personalities yet. I still think we should have left them in incubation longer, but no one listens to the science guy.”
The restraint was removed and A1’s arm was tossed back over at their body. The grip on their hair only tightened. They gritted their teeth.
They missed the tube. The calm, quiet comfort of the tube. They want to go back.
“A1 had always lacked a distinct personality,” The handler said. A1 turned and batted at the scientist, trying to force them away from where the hands were pulling off their gown. The handler slammed their head back down again and used their other hand to punch their stomach. A1 groaned, biting their tongue and stopped moving all together. “Aside from being on the borderline of feral, but it usually only occurs when it is in this sort of situation.”
The gown was removed. Cold hands began their inspection and A1 bit their tongue until blood flooded their mouth.
“I don’t see what the higher ups see in it,” The scientist agreed. A cold hand smacked against some body part and A1 didn’t realize they were even moving until then. “But they see something. Like hell do I know. I’m just the guy who sees them every day. A1-W1, if you do not stop, I will shock you. Do you want that? I don’t think you want that. This thing is stubborn. Maybe that’s it’s trait.”
A1 ended up back in their cell later that day. They pressed at the freshly bloomed bruise and watched as A6 fought with their handler. A hand in their brown hair to slam them against the bars before another guard dragged them into the cell and swung punch after punch until A6 stopped moving. Stopped making noise. A1 moved closer, wincing at the small sound that was made once the guards had left. A2 was already reaching through the bars for them. They miss the tube. The tube never made them hurt. It was warm and calm and not like this.
When A6 could finally bring themself to move, they were disoriented and bruised. A1 poked at their own bruise again and leaned their head against the bars. “I told you to stop it,” They whispered out a hiss. “Fighting them is only going to get you more hurt.”
A2 finally caught A6’s hand and held it tightly. A6 curled against the bars with a horrible cry that the guards would beat them for if they were here. “I can’t help it,” A6 whispered back. They sounded like they were going to choke. “They hurt me anyway.”
“You need to stop reacting,” A1 replied. “The less you react, the less interesting they find you. They think I don’t have a personality.”
“What’s a personality?” A2 whispered. They ran their thumb over A6’s hand.
“I don’t know,” A1 hissed back. They ran their fingers over their body, seeking out another bruise to press down on. “But they don’t think I’m interesting because I don’t have one. I think that’s a good thing. So 6, you need to stop. For your own good.”
“I can’t help it,” A6 sniffled again. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard. And then they grab me and I just have to do it.”
“It just takes practice,” A2 soothed. “I promise. You’ll get there. You just need to learn how to float too. It will help.”
“I miss the tube,” A6 sniffled into their free arm. There’s blood down their neck. Their gown is stained red. A1 pressed down on their bruise again to remind them why they need to stay angry. “I want to go back.”
“We all do,” A1 agreed. “We miss the tube. But we’re here now. You need to just act like they don’t make you angry. Then you won’t get beat up. I promise. It’s better.”
“I saw A13,” A2 whispered. A13 seems to be an important thing here. A13 and A10. Every scientist, guard, and the like are obsessed with them. “A13 looked bad. I only saw it for a second but it wasn’t moving. It was pale and it might have been bleeding and it was surrounded by scientists.”
“I saw A10,” A6 whispered back. “We were in the same room for a while. It looked bad. It was shaking and it couldn’t stop shaking. They had stop with me to help stabilize it. I hope it’s okay.”
“They are a lost cause,” A1 said, realistically. “They only want A10 and A13 to do things like that to them. Something went wrong badly with them. They don’t know why. It’s better to worry about the rest of the W-group. The ones like us.”
“I know,” A2 whispered back. “But I worry about them anyway.” A1 knew that they did, deep down. They worried for them too. But realistically, they can’t have the time to care about them. They have to worry about themself. They have to worry about A2 and A6. They have to worry about the W-group.
A1 gets dragged in a lot. Over and over again. It’s minor things. Blood draws, physical examinations, shots. Their mouth is pried open and their teeth are inspected once. Then twice. There’s a lot of times where they are asked simple questions. Do this. Do that. Move there. Move this body part. A1 bites their tongue to keep from getting angry during and presses down on bruises when they are in their cell to stay angry.
“I can’t tell if it lacks intelligence or if this persona is on purpose,” The scientist hummed one day. It’s another physical examination. A1 can’t stand how long the cold hands are on them. They bite their tongue. Blood seeps down their throat. “A1, look at me.” They draw their eyes over to look, blinking slowly. Deliberately. “It isn’t flinching like A13 does. A10 doesn’t either. It’s a unique thing to A13 and A12.” The hands are removed from their body and the gown is pulled back over. The hand in their hair started to loosen. If A1 can just time it right…
“Are you sure it’s not just them being skittish?” The handler asked, guiding A1 to sit up. Just a little longer. They haven’t tried in so long. “A13 has been operated on multiple times in the past month. It could be a product of that. A12 is nervous and jumpy. Mixed with the whole partial blindness, I can see that causing reactions.”
“But A11 doesn’t,” The scientist disagreed. Just a second more. One more. The hand loosened more. “A11 is very skittish. But when given the same examination and the same prompting, it gives the same reactions as A1. Something is happening in Block 5 that I don’t like. Shut it- A1!”
A1 had managed to bite down hard enough to break the skin. The scientist pulled back. The handler grabbed their hair and slammed their head down, holding them down to the table. “You should fucking know better. No biting. No fucking biting.”
They slammed their hand over A1’s body, over and over and over again. They were blurry and in pain by the time they came back, but it was worth it. It was so worth it. A6 gave them a knowing look from where they sat against the bars of their own cell, head wrapped and eye bruised but it looked liked it was better than usual.
“You said to stop reacting,” A2 scolded in a whisper. A1 grinned.
“I know. I had to do it.”
Time moved slowly until A1 is dragged out of the cells to meet the higher ups. The one that speaks to him is completely white, much like the walls. There are ears on the head and a mask that has a drawn on face that A1 wants to punch in. Their handler is nearby. A1 has to be watched every time they are out of their cell now. They don’t always attack, unlike many of the others, but they are more unpredictable that way. No one can decide if they lack the intelligence behind what they do or if everything they do is some kind of calculated malice attempt.
A1 knows it’s the latter. But they keep calm and bite their tongue to keep themself from getting angry and poke at their bruises to keep them angry later.
The others sit in the back. A1 has seen some of them on occasion but none of them make them as angry as the one in front of them. They lack a name, but everyone calls them Cucurucho.
“I have a job for you,” Cucurucho starts. A1 blinked up at them with mild interest, the hand in their hair tightening to keep them from biting again. A1 isn’t supposed to talk, they know the rules. But the cameras don’t pick up their voices if they are quiet enough so they can. A1 has a feeling that the higher ups know that. They stay silent anyway.
“You better be right about this,” One of the other higher up says, leaning back in their chair. A1’s eyes flicker over but a snap in front of their face drags them back to Cucurucho.
“Stay focused,” Cucurucho snapped. A1 had to bite their tongue because they couldn’t bite them instead. “I have a job for you. One of the others is inconsolable.”
A1 tilted their head back against the hand in their hair. They stare up at the fake face and swallow the blood pooling in their mouth. The higher ups are staring. Like they want A1 to respond. The less reactions they give them, the less they expect from A1. That’s exactly how they want it.
“Right now, A12 is being brought over. It is inconsolable. That means it is crying and cannot be stopped,” Cucurucho continued, like A1 had answered. They struggle to figure out how this is relevant to them. What are they asking from them? A1 kept that silent stare, tongue tight between their teeth. “You can put A1 in the cage now. A12 is nearby. We only need an hour with it.”
It’s a smaller cage than A1 is used to. They can’t stand up all the way and their legs are just barely short enough. They aren’t sure why they are being watched, what they need from them, but it’s not long before A12 is shoved into the cage with them as well.
A1 has never seen A12 before. Perhaps the higher ups know that. They have no connection to them like they do to A2 and A6. Maybe that’s the point. A12 scrambled into the corner, chest heaving and making that horrible sound. A1 can’t see any damage, no injuries that could be hurting, but the cries sound like they hurt anyway. They want to reach out to help. They aren’t supposed to. They aren’t supposed to talk. If the guards catch A2 and A6 holding hands, they will smack their hands until they let go. A1 knows, they know so well, what is expected of them.
Whatever test this is, A1 knows they will fail it regardless. A12 is terrified. A1 knows that feeling very well.
“A12,” A1 finally whispered after minutes of nothing. “A12, it’s okay.” The higher ups sit to attention. A1 feels like the center of the world. They don’t want to feel like that. They aren’t reprimanded for talking though. A12 twitched at the mention of their identification, but otherwise kept crying.
“A12,” A1 tried again, a little louder. “It’s okay.” A12 flinched towards the sound of their voice, a hand uncurling from where it was clutching the bars tightly. “A12, look at me.” A1 doesn’t have to remind A6 to look over at them anymore. A6 knows. A12 turned their head, eyes wide and searching. An unclenched hand, shaking but free, reached out blindly. It’s close enough that A1 can hold it.
They aren’t scolded. It’s strange. A1 doesn’t like this test. The higher ups watch them and A1 has a feeling that all this will come back on them, but right now, they just want A12 to calm down.
“A12, you’re okay,” A1 whispered, grabbing their hand. A12 clutched it desperately. “It’s okay. You need to not react so much. It makes you less interesting to them. Did you know that?” A1 shuffled closer at A12’s tugging. The other thing, because that’s what they are called, things, has blinding white hair and skin. Like they weren’t given any color. Not like them. Not like A2 and A6.
A12 blindly reached for them and A1 was reminded very briefly that they had something the scientists called partial blindness. And when A1 cried too much, they couldn’t see very well either. “It’s okay. I have you.” A12 pressed closer to them and A1 grabbed them and realized that they actually didn’t want to let go. “It’s okay. You need to calm down before they find you interesting. Interesting means you get hurt more.”
A12 sniffled against their side and A1 realized they have never been so close to another thing before. “They already think I’m interesting,” A12 whispered back with a soft cry.
“I know. They did with A6 for a while but they stopped now. I told A6 the same thing. This is safer.”
A12 sniffled against their side for minutes but stopped making the horrific sound that gets them beat. A1 stared forward, at the higher ups who stared back, but none of them made a move to take A12 from them. A1 doesn’t like how intently they are being watched but perhaps if they make themself more interesting, it will keep the interest off of everyone else. Now that their facade is broken. A1 isn’t lacking intelligence, they are masking it to be able to work undercover for everyone else.
When A12 is silent and no longer shaking against A1’s body, A1 held them tighter, away from the door of the cell so that it was harder to reach them, and stared at Cucurucho, who finally turned away.
“Like I said, A1-W1 is intelligent. It works to keep A2 and A6 under the radar. I have been saying that for months. It has a way with words and is able to calm the other A-group subjects. You can see it in the way it has been able to calm A12 despite never interacting before. It would be one thing if it calmed A2 and A6, but A12 is vastly different then anyone A1 has interacted with before.”
With their cover blown, A1 can feel the nausea building in their stomach. They haven’t seen anyone who’s gained the major interest of the higher ups, unlike how they know A10 and A13 have, but they have a feeling they don’t want to find out. They have heard things about A10 and A13. They don’t want to end up like that. They can worry for the two others without becoming one.
A12 can feel their anxiety. They move closer. A1 ignored the discussion about them because they found that they don’t want to know what their fate will be.
A1 never sees A12 again. They know it’s because it was some kind of test but A1 can’t help but feel like they had something to do with it. They proved something, some sort of importance. It’s not long after they are given their official job. The Federation, that’s what the higher ups are called, is getting a group of people to live here. The W-subgroup is responsible to spy on them and report back. It’s a bunch of words A1 knows nothing about. Cucurucho says that it will become more clear as they get to see the actual mission but A1 doesn’t want to participate at all. They want to focus on the other things, the subjects they are getting called now, because they understand what they can do to support them. How they can help. Their tricks have been revealed because they couldn’t stop themself from helping A12 and now they aren’t allowed to see them anymore.
”You will report back regularly,” Cucurucho informed them. He was mostly talking to A1. The rest of the W-subgroup has been informed of this job. It’s not just A1 that has to do this job alone, but A1 is responsible for keeping them in check. They report to A1 and listen to them. If any of them were to reveal their actual purpose, the Federation has no use for them. They will be removed. Eliminated. Dead. That scares some of them. A1 worried that they would end up like A10 or A13 and maybe that’s the scariest part of it all.
“You will report what you know about the residents. You will find their weaknesses, what makes them hurt, and you will report back to us. Do you understand that?” Cucurucho is talking to A1. A1 doesn’t want to end up like the S-subgroup. Doesn’t want to let the others under their care get hurt. So whatever the Federation is asking of them, they will do. They will make sure that they are doing what is told.
“Why?” A2 asked, ever defiant. They tilted their head up to stare Cucurucho in the eyes. Their false eyes. A1 pressed against a bruise underneath the shirt shoved over their head.
“Because you are made to do what we tell you to do,” Cucurucho answered. “Your entire purpose is to do what we tell you to do.”
“Pretty dumb fucking purpose,” A2 spit out.
“A10 said that too,” Cucurucho answered. Everyone knows what that means. They know now. They all shut up. “The doors will open. You will be taken home with two of the residents. You will not be together. You will tell them that you are dragon eggs and that your mother will come back. You will gather information about your caretakers and report back. Do you understand?”
He’s looking at A1. A1 tilted their head up and stared forward at him. They bite down on their tongue. “Yessir.”
“Good. I hope you enjoy the island.” Cucurucho left. The doors to the room opened. A1 threw themself back in the corner and waited.
They don’t want to do this. They don’t have a choice. A man in green and a man in blue stopped in front of their new cell. A1 tilted their head up and pressed on a bruise. Be angry. Stay angry.
They missed the tube.