#kylo

GUH! I DUNNO!?

Experiment 438

Chapter 12

The room was bright. White walls, white floors, and a silver metal examination table to which 438 was strapped. She was no older then 4, her small body shaking with fear as the scientists carefully examined her. They did these checks routinely, taking blood and checking for any signs of deterioration. One of them held a clipboard, carefully writing down observations as the others spoke in medical and scientific terms that she didn’t yet understand. “Everything looks stable, 438.” The woman scientist who seemed the kindest of all the lab staff reassured the trembling toddler. She was still cold, never comforting, but she was also never cruel, which 438 appreciated. “Just one more thing, and then you can return to your room.” 438 crunched her brows in confusion. She was a creature of strict routine, and this was not part of the routine. “We are just going to look at your foot. Stay very still.” 438 couldn’t see, but she felt one of them take hold of her ankle. On instinct, she yanked, her breathing picking up in that panicked way it always did when they upset her.

The woman moved closer, resting a reassuring hand next to the girl’s arm, careful not to touch. “You are okay, 438. Deep breaths.” Suddenly, the feeling of something metal being shoved against her heel took over her senses. Her eyes blew wide, and she tried her hardest to sit up, but the restraints kept her in place. The pressure of the object on her skin grew, the grip on her foot tightening to ensure she wouldn’t move it at the wrong moment, and pain began to bloom through her foot. “I don’t like that.” 438 whimpered, shaking her head hard as she tried to keep herself calm. No one responded, which wasn’t surprising.

A sharp sound rang out through the room before a brief moment of silence. 438 took a hard breath in, the agony she hadn’t been prepared for shooting up her leg like fire. A scream, so loud and piercing that some of the men covered their ears to protect themselves from the shrill noise. The air inside of the room shifted, the tension tangible around them as the pressure began to build. Surgical objects and sample tubes filled with blood shook on top of the table, chairs scraped their way across the ground, and the durasteel restraints that held the small girl down cracked as they were torn apart by the invisible power.

“I SAID I DON’T LIKE THAT.” 438 shrieked, scrambling off the table. Her uncoordinated form hit the ground hard, and she scampered to the corner farthest from all of them, pressing her spine into the crease of the wall, big dark animalistic eyes locked on her surroundings as she waited for them to rush her. “ALL YOU DO IS HURT ME. YOU’RE BAD.” The sound of the examination table scraping and moaning as it crumbled in on itself rang through the room. 438 grabbed her foot and turned it over to examine where the pain radiated. There was a mark, a small bloody mark in the skin of her heel, an angry purple bruise already forming around it. One man, face cold and unbothered despite the terrifying power the child was displaying, slowly crouched. He tilted his head ever so slightly, the corner of his lip curling just enough for 438 to notice. “I apologize, 438. My intention wasn’t to hurt you.” She hated the way his voice sounded, how his volume and tone never changed. It unsettled her.

He stood and took two slow steps closer. She tensed beneath his gaze, her fingers releasing her injured foot and clawing into the wall as if she was trying to become part of it to get away. She let out a low warning grunt, a warning not to come any closer, but he didn’t seem to care. “It’s for your safety, 438.” Another two steps, these making her chest rise and fall rapidly as her eyes searched for an escape route that she couldn’t find. He was close now, closer than she wanted him to be, but he held his hands up to show her he had nothing. Nothing to poke or prod her with, nothing sharp, nothing shiny, which did nothing to calm her racing heartbeat. He reached out a hand, his palm hovering an inch above her head, and then he did what she least expected. He brushed the soft fur at the base of her ears ever so slightly. She flinched at the contact. They never touched her, and when they did, they always wore gloves, but he was touching her with no barrier between them. She could feel the warmth of his fingertip, and on instinct, she almost leaned into it. The man let out a breath that almost resembled a low chuckle.

“It’s only a tool, 438. Now we will always be able to find you.”

438 shot straight up in her nest, gasping for air like the dream had been holding her head beneath water. It wasn’t just a dream, it was a memory. She had fallen asleep propped against the wall after hours of trying to decide what to do. She knew it had to come out, but she couldn’t tell the knights. She couldn’t risk what them finding out would cost her. She finally had a place where she wasn’t afraid, where she wasn’t punished, and she couldn’t risk that being taken away if they were to think she had been hiding it on purpose. That she had been trying to lead the scientists to their sanctuary. No. That couldn’t happen.

Her eyes shifted slowly over to Cardo’s tool crate. A utility knife she had examined ten times over sat at the top on the right side, the metal of it glistening in the low night cycle lights like it was calling her name. She stood, body tense with hesitation, but she forced herself to walk. She made her way to his workbench, checking her surroundings every few seconds to ensure no one was watching. Her ears stood at attention, listening for any tiny noise that would indicate that one of them had awoken, but no sound came. She reached down and snatched the blade, clutching it to herself, her heart pounding against her ribs with nervousness. “I will put it back,” she whispered to herself, like she had to say it out loud just to reassure herself.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening made her jump in horror. She ran back to the nest like she was being chased, anxiety pulsing through her veins. She quickly shoved the stolen item beneath one of the furs and tried her very best to look like she hadn’t just committed a crime. From the hallway, Kuruk appeared, brows creased, hair tousled, T-shirt clinging to his muscled form. He made his way over to his star map table, taking a heavy seat on the stool that sat next to it. His eyes shifted to 438, her big eyes locked on him, her form sitting rigid like something had just shocked her. “You okay, bunny? You look like you saw a ghost.” She swallowed hard, trying to adjust her body language to read as more calm, failing miserably. “I’m fine,” she replied, her tone unconvincing.

Kuruk narrowed his eyes at her, but after a long moment of silence between them, he sighed. 438 was strange. They never knew what they would get with her, and they were learning to just let her be. “I couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled, that oh-so-familiar grumpy expression returning to his features. “If I’m bothering you, I can go back to my room. Take a shower to clear my head.” There was a moment of stillness between them. The shower. That’s just what she needed. That small glass box with the water to wash away any evidence. That’s just what she needed. She shook her head hard. “No. I’m not bothered.” She shifted again, trying to think of a way to ask to use his refresher without it sounding strange.

Her hands moved to her head, her fingers scratching at the fur that lay at the base of her ears. “Actually, I think I need a shower. I feel dirty.”

Kuruk paused, hands hovering over his work. She had never asked to shower before, especially not in the middle of the night cycle. She did it willingly to satisfy the knights, but that was about as far as it went. “Do you want me to stay in the refresher with you?” he asked. “I don’t have to do anything. Just stand there.” She shook her head, almost frantically. She needed to go alone. She had to keep her secret. “No. I can do it.” Another pause, then Kuruk nodded once. “Okay.”

Her answer surprised him more than it should have. He had observed her starting to seek him out when something upset her. It wasn’t something he would ever admit, not to her, and certainly not to his brothers, but he’d grown quietly proud of that fact. But if she wanted to go alone, he wouldn’t argue. “You can use mine. Towels are in the cabinet.” And with that, he was once again focused on his map. 438 slowly slid her hand beneath the furs, pulling the small knife into her palm, tucking it carefully into the fabric of her clothing. She stood, trying to act as normal as possible, and scampered out of the common room and into the hall. She scrambled to Kuruk’s room as if he might catch her at any moment, but no footsteps followed.

She made her way into the refresher, the cold black tile beneath her feet sending a wave of cold up her legs. She closed the door behind her, hurrying to start the water, hoping the sound of the trickling would drown out the booming thud of her heartbeat racing inside of her chest. Her eyes fell to stare at the utility knife. It looked sharper now in this lighting, the glint of the metal sending another wave of anxiety through her. “Get it out. Destroy the tracker. Put the knife back.” She kept quietly repeating those steps to herself over and over in a loop as she pulled her clothing from her body. She tossed it in a pile before carefully stepping her way into the shower.

She stood beneath the warm water, letting it wash over her back, hoping the soothing sensation might calm her. It didn’t. She slowly sat herself on the tile, pulling her foot toward herself and running her fingers over the already sore spot, reminding herself exactly what it was she had come in there for. “Get it out. Destroy the tracker. Put the knife back.” She didn’t realize it, but her voice was trembling, her hands too, so hard she thought she might lose her grip on the blade. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She had to get it out. She had to be successful. Taking a long breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself. This pain couldn’t be any worse than the pain she had felt in the lab.

The water poured over her, warm enough that steam had already begun to gather against the glass. She had been sitting there for several minutes now, her body refusing to cooperate with her plan, her muscles stiff with fear. Her fingers curled around the knife, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You don’t get to find me.” The words came out barely louder than the patter of the water hitting the ground, but she meant them more than she had ever meant anything before. She forced herself to move. The first touch of the blade made every instinct in her body scream at her to stop, but she didn’t listen. Tears mixed with the water running over her skin as she grimaced. She hated this. She hated pain, but if this pain bought her freedom, she would endure it silently and without complaint.

She dug the blade in hard, biting into her lip until she tasted copper to keep herself quiet. She dragged it across her skin, making an opening, her skin splitting with a waterfall of red following behind. She whimpered despite her efforts not to, the once-clear water swirling around her now a messy mix of water and her blood. She used her free hand to press into the wound, the feeling of her fingers pushing past broken flesh making her gag. She felt for a long moment before her fingertips pressed against the small metal object. There it was, buried deep from the years of healing. She grabbed onto it, pulling, trying to ignore the agonizing pain that shot up her leg from doing so, but the object didn’t budge.

“Come out,” she commanded, as if saying it out loud might make it move. But again, nothing. She went back to the knife, pressing it harder into the already broken skin, digging it toward the contaminant with all of her strength, biting into her arm. She could feel it beginning to loosen, now able to wiggle it slightly, the piece of metal giving way to her great efforts. She went back to her hands, grabbing desperately at it, yanking, twisting, doing all she could to displace it. 438 blinked several times, and suddenly the room seemed strangely dark. Her body began to feel heavy, her ears drooped against her head, and when she tried to reposition herself, the room tilted around her violently enough that she had to brace herself against the wall.

No. Not now. Not when she almost had it out. She reached for it again, but her hands wouldn’t cooperate, the blood loss making her feel weak and out of control. Her breathing grew frantic, the edges of her vision going black. 438 ripped at her flesh, no longer caring about being careful, no longer thinking about keeping the carnage contained. All of the composure she’d forced herself to maintain disappeared beneath pure animal panic. She gave it her best pull, her head snapping back as a scream tore through her chest before she could stop it. Her sight faded in and out like a radio losing frequency. She had to act fast. She knew if she passed out, if she fully lost consciousness before she succeeded, then she would face the consequences when she awoke. That couldn’t happen.

She sucked in a breath, mustering every ounce of energy she had left, and she flattened her hand, hovering it over the injury. The sight of it was gruesome, disturbing in a way that 438 didn’t have words to describe, but she didn’t care. She would cut off the whole foot if it meant never going back to those people. She closed her eyes and focused, remembering what Kylo had been teaching her. Control, patience, calm. She used the Force and pulled. The sound of the object tearing free entered her ears, and a blinding pain exploded through her. Another scream, this one so loud it could be heard through the entire hall, but after a moment, it was followed by the tink of metal hitting tile.

It was out.

438 reached out and grabbed hold of it, trying to wake herself back up so she could destroy it before the knights came running, but she never got the chance. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body crumpled against the shower floor, shaking for a moment before she went completely still, unconscious. The tracker lay in her palm. Outside the door, Kuruk had been standing nearby. He had heard her, and he was coming with a speed that seemed impressive for someone of his size. He made it to the metal door of the refresher and leaned in close, listening. But he heard nothing besides the shallow breathing of 438 on the other side. “Open the door, 438. What’s wrong?” He banged his fist against it hard, but there was no reply.

He paused, waiting for the moment that she would come to the door. There was a long pause of silence. “Bunny,” his voice was different now, no longer just urgent but also filled with a worry he didn’t like to show. “Can you please come open this door?” Again, no answer. He pressed his ear to the surface, listening. No sound, but something else.

@death-1ncarnate

{ @arlos-alive-again - ooc: roleplay starter upon ye! no pressure to respond of course and i hope you don't mind getting the same one i've used a few times 🥹 }

Wings sprouted out of Kylo’s back, a defense mechanism. He wasn’t expecting someone to be in the woods, especially in the part behind his house

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