Guinea Pigs of Floor B3

Slater now found himself sat on a large white couch in the center of a lounge area inside the room he had, until recently, just stood outside the door of. The smoke had been cleared out at this point, but a distinct tinge of ash still accompanied every other scent. At the other end of the couch turned at a ninety-degree angle, Blitz was laying down with the headphones around his neck now moved to his ears, his head bobbing along to whatever melody Slater couldn’t hear. As for the other new acquaintance of his, she had vanished to the kitchen a couple of minutes prior. The fear of more smoke appearing was certainly present, but Slater simply kept himself seated in his reserved position, trying to take up as little space as possible.

The interior was overwhelming to the boy who had, until this very moment, never stepped foot in any home one would consider ‘luxury.’ The large multi-sectioned couch he now sat on was only the beginning; all sorts of furniture and appliances that could only be described as high quality were in every corner of the room. Lamps of peculiar shapes, brightly colored rugs, television displays, and shelves filled with books of all kinds. Not that Slater could imagine these people actually reading them. To him, this was the manifestation of every rumor or story he’d been fed over the years about how those on the High Levels lived their lives.

Breaking that thought process though, was the woman from earlier, returning with a plate in hand. She slipped past Blitz, placing the plate on the ottoman in front of the couch, directly in front of Slater, before taking a seat in a nearby chair.

“Considering this is your first time here, I wanted to make sure you at least felt welcome. Help yourself.” Her hand extended, indicating to Slater the substance before him was intended for him.

‘Substance’ being the key word. While the smoke did not give Slater high hopes for whatever the dish was, whatever it was supposed to be was completely impossible to tell from the charred color and shriveled up shape. Slater’s finger served as his tool to investigate, with a series of pokes and prods, but even feeling the texture did nothing to improve his confidence in putting what he could only assume was a biological weapon inside his body.

“I’m not that hungry right now,” Slater lifted his head to lock eyes with the woman in the chair, realizing he lacked critical information on her. “Uh—“

“Oh, I apologize.” She lifted her hand to her breast. “My name is Charlotte Charlton, for the last three years I’ve been a member of the Secret Police force here in the Eastern States—”

Slater listened to her introduction, until he noticed the hand she had placed on her chest. A dark green glow came from the backside of her hand. Looking at her other hand to make sure something wasn’t off, he didn’t see a green glow, but instead an icy blue one. His eyes shifted between the two, trying to make sense of it. The glows seemed to be coming from some sort of pattern, but from this distance he couldn’t quite make them out.

“—But you can ask me if you have any questions, make sense?”

The boy’s attention was brought back. In truth, he had many questions. Especially regarding the symbols on her hands. However, the topic seemed too intrusive to start with, so he defaulted to his previous train of thought.

“You guys are pretty set up here, how do you afford all this stuff?” The best way to keep things in his favor was to get them to talk about themselves, he figured. He couldn’t let himself forget, even if he was being accommodated, Slater was still in unfamiliar territory.

Charlotte’s head gave a mechanical swivel, looking around at the decorations of the lounge room.

“I guess I had forgotten how odd it is to find people living like this… Truly, we are blessed to be—“

“Oh, cram it! We’re not blessed in the slightest.”

The previously laid down Blitz had now sat up and turned towards the other two, with his headphones now once again around his neck. He stood up and cracked his neck, trying to ease the tension of having all the attention on himself, put his hands in his pockets and walked to the edge of the room. He stopped as if remembering something important, turning his head back at Slater specifically.

“You might as well know, if you’re gonna be stuck here with us; The only reason you’re here is because you’re some asset to the government. They either want to study you or use you as blackmail. You probably know which already. The only reason we live like this is so they can fatten us up and keep us happy.” He shifted his eyes back and held his head, making a self-loathing snarl. “We’re just their damn guinea pigs…”

Blitz left the room in silence, walking down another hall in the large living quarters, leaving the other two to pick up the pieces of the shattered conversation.

“Sorry about him, he’s always been a bit thorny.” The unexpressive woman’s face showed a fondness which became her most pronounced emotion yet. “I still remember when I first got here, he didn’t say a word to me for the first two weeks. It took Lupus intervening himself for him to do anything.”

The sound of the door sliding open caused the two to turn.

“What did I do this time?”

An old man stood in the door frame. His mild-mannered voice painted the expectation of a reserved, sweet elder, but what Slater saw instead was quite the opposite. A well groomed snowy mustache curved above his mouth, covering most of it. Despite his age, the top of his head also was adorned with hair. Short as they were, he still had impressive flowing white locks combed over and groomed to fit the professional look of a military man. He had a slender build, but even so, the distinct outline of muscle was apparent, even under his thick, dark gray military uniform. Various medals adorned the outfit in ribbons of red and glimmers of gold. Slater was unsure whether it was to invoke a sense of respect or fear, perhaps even both.

“Welcome back, Director.” Charlotte’s fond expression continued through her greeting.

The old man’s head lowered in an affirming nod, entering the room. His steps echoed for a few seconds, before he stopped, spotting the boy on the couch. His stride shifted, now approaching Slater.

His only response was a shudder. I don’t know what it is—No, I do… His thoughts echoed off the walls of his brain. The only thing coming out was sweat from his brow. This guy, the way he walks, the way he carries himself… It’s like a thug from back home. But, more focused and… He gulped. Bloodthirsty.

The kindly gentleman extended a hand with a smile.

“You’re Slater, I presume? Allow me to welcome you to your new place of work. You can call me Director Lupus.”