Daslabor

Man, how Sprite wished she had a cartoon poster to hang on her wall. For a couple of weeks she had tried it, running, sauntering, avoiding her Room as much as she could, but now there was an escape no longer: even in the day hours, she needed to sit her ass down here. Though not injured in the traditional sense, Dr. Smith's creepy metal goo had properly drained her, and now in the second day of her recovery, Sprite knew she wouldn't shake this off before the end of the week. Her Therion was still vast asleep, as was most of her brain, making her more-than-temporary stay at her Room both agonizing, and a relief. On the one hand, yeah, it sucked ass to be confined to a closed concrete room that reminded her of the pocket version of her cell at the WCBL, but at the same time, her brain was so foggy that her claustrophobia wasn't able to properly set in. The walls were just what they were. Walls. No feeling of being watched, no raging itch that urged her to get out and claw her nails to bits. Just pure, dusty boredom. Sprite sat on the floor with her back against the frame of her bed, staring at the half-empty tray of grub next to her feet. Though her portions were much bigger in this Lab, they didn't fill her up half as much. Dr. Hartmann'd said that it had something to do with the different plans that Daslabor had for her. Since she wouldn't be transformed into an new line of unbeatable beast soldiers, she didn't need nearly as much protein, resulting in these much less gross, but less nutricious meals. Within a week, she'd rotated through all the possible flavors, and aside from a funny jiggly pudding that sometimes arrived at the end of her evening meal, there was little to look forward to. She was almost done with her second mental rehearsal of the quickest route to the Big Door, when she was rudely distracted by some scuffling by the door. Great, time to be socialized again, like the adorable murderous bioweapon doggie she was. Another whitecoat, or a fellow damned soul, this time? [Open to all, be it Staff or Subject.]

Sebastian had somehow slipped passed the employees, and was wandering down the halls of the Subject Rooms.

He glanced the numbers and doors up and down as he walked. The more he stayed in this Daslabor place, the more he disliked it.

Sebastian noticed the one door, labeled #0111, and recalled overhearing some subjects gossiping about the said Subject. The demon, curious, decided to get closer to the door and attempted to open it.

The door was locked from the outside, as expected. The Daslabor staff probably didn't want their subjects wandering around freely. Ironically, like Sebastian was at the moment.

Sebastian tapped the lock twice with his finger and using his demonic powers, the door unlocked. Sadly this wasn't something that could work while being inside a locked room. He cracked the door open to glance inside, expecting some kind of big, dangerous beast, only to see a pale, human woman. His eyes narrowed, a bit of confusion washed over him, but he ignored it. "My apologies, miss, this must be the wrong door." Sebastian said, lying, of course, as he slowly began closing the door back.

Well, he would have, but the door and the door frame was stopped by the muzzle cage. He sighed.

"I suppose it would be best to step away from the door before closing it, with this damned thing on it." He tapped the muzzle cage before going try and close the door again.

Whether it closed fully this time, or Sprite stopped him before he could or not, was entirely up to Sprite herself.

In had stepped a kind of fancy-lookin’ white guy, his face covered in a muzzling contraption. What even.. Sprite raised her brow at the sucko, who then began to address her in an eloquently accented manner that she’d never heard before. Shit, she remembered how that other egghead had been punished by his colleagues to clean the windows of the Mingling Room. This muzzle-prank was so, so much more cruel. What had this poor poor tortureman even done to get messed up like this? ”Eyy, dunno who’s handin’ out these prank punishments up in Egghead HQ, but y’gotta remind me to never piss ‘em off,” Sprite chuffed, slowly getting up to get on eye-level with the man. He was taller than she was, but didn’t have the same beef on him as she did. She could take him on, easily. Freedom would be hers. ”So whatcha do to get dolled up like ‘tis, huh?” There was a molten layer of hostility in her voice, expressed through the feral glimmer in her eye. She approached with the intention to beat the guy up and make a run for the exit, but right when she wanted to move up to him and grab him by his muzzle, her head began to spin, and she slumped against the wall. Fuck! Sprite gritted her teeth and side-eyed the strangely costumed whitecoat, ready to lunge if needed, though likely not ready at all. That damn sparkly liquid had done a serious number on her, and she doubted she could get out of Daslabor at all without some help from her Therion. Maybe for the better.. If she had some time to think, she could perhaps also think up a detour to her escape so she could free the other Subjects, as well. Gods knew the world would be less funny without ol’ Bloodfang.

Suddenly, Peepy just... Appeared. To any onlooker, it looked like the plush just slowly faded into existence in the room, smelling faintly of peanuts, cut grass, theft, and old accountants.

Sebastian had almost closed the door when she spoke up, so he reopened it a slight ways before glancing down at her. "Prank punishments?" Sebastian asked, raising a brow, and he lacked confusion in voice, and in-fact sounded more amused and curious. "Egghead HQ?" Sebastian added. "Are you talking about the staff here, miss?" He glanced in the hallway, just to make sure said Eggheads weren't approaching. "I'm not one of them." He looked back at her with a calm smile with narrowed eyes, his usual expression on his face. "Subject #4014." He held out his hand to her as to handshake, if she took the offer or not. "But it'll be much easier to call me Sebastian."

"I managed to slip past those incompetent, pathetic excuses for employees and found myself here." Sebastian explained. "I've heard a bit of gossip about you, also. Subject #0111. You went on a 'rampage' with Subject #4444."

"I'd be pleased to know your name." Sebastian said, "So I don't keep calling you Subject #0111." He then glanced his eyes over at the strange thing that just popped up.
He glared at Peepy for a moment, suspicious of it, before focusing back on Sprite.

Peepy continued staring forwards sexily, it's glass eyes shining in the fluorescent lighting of the room, complimenting it's peanut shaped cow body. A proper hourglass figure. It appeared to be staring at Sprite.

Fancy ol' sucko, wasn't he? Sprite remained wary of the poshly clad man, though it did begin to dawn on her that he wasn't a whitecoat after all. In fact, he was somethin' closer to a kindred spirit: he, too, hated the staff of Daslabor, and likely wouldn't want to miss a chance to get out. Well, she could always use another co-conspirator. "Bah, hardly a rampage c'pared to what I could be capable of," Sprite scoffed, the phantom of a cocky smirk haunting her tired lips. Slowly stepping away from the wall, she steadied herself, and answered Mr. Muzzle Mouse's extended hand with a firm shake. "An' jus' call me Sprite, I don' do well with that whole 'miss'-kratshit." She grunted, and wiped her still bruised lip. Didn't even know where that one came from.. "So whatcha in for anyway? So far I've seen talkin' animals an' a whole load of dim-witted whitecoats, but not so much someone so.." Sprite eyed the muzzle, but didn't seem to be fazed by the implication of Muzzle Mouse wearing it. "..normal-lookin'." Obviously, he couldn't be truly normal, otherwise he wouldn't be in here. Sprite crossed her arms and leaned against the wall of her enclosure, much like she had when taunting the poor doctor cleaning the windows, some weeks earlier. That was when she noticed the fuzzy.. thing, staring at her from a corner. "Eyy, uh- by 'em way.. that yours?" she mumbled, nodding towards the vaguely threatening plush.

The demon raised his brows at the mention of him being normal looking. "I can assure I'm far from normal." He grinned devilishly, then he looked over at the plush.

"That is not mine, no. I assumed it was yours." Sebastian crossed his arms, staring at the peanut-shaped cow plush. He shrugged, eyes looking back at Sprite. "As I was saying, far from normal."

"I'm simply one hell of a butler." He winked, paused, and then corrected himself. "Well, one hello of a subject, currently." He stated rather flatly. He tapped on the muzzle, "They don't want me doing any, to quote, 'funny face business', so they put it on to prevent me from harming anyone with it." Sebastian sighed. "You look a bit normal yourself, Sprite." The demon spat, raising a brow, still keeping his calm, formal attitude.

As their conversation carried on, Sprite wouldn't let the strange plush out of her sight. Hers? Pfft, what would a grown sucko like herself even do with somethin' like that? Besides, it looked too sentient to her, with those big ol' eyes. Had it been less figurative, she could've used it to kick her frustrations into, or something. "T'fuck's a butler?" she scoffed, her voice curt and distracted. That thing, it was getting on her nerves. It was too large to simply have rolled in through the open door while she wasn't paying attention, so someone must've put it there. "Arn' that 'em thing where y'wipe rich suckos asses, an' things like that?" Sprite had heard of robotic butlers, like the ones that ran around Blake's place. Had even taken one out, on her way to the WCBL's loading dock. Ah, good times. "Hm, jus' better at hidin' it, is all. Muzzle wouldn' exactly work on me, anyway. I don' do funny face biz, I just tear 'em off." Not just faces. It felt alienating and slightly disgusting to her to take pride into her Therion's unhinged violence.

Sebastian stifled a laugh at the butler confusion. "Not at all, but sometimes it might as well be." He rolled his eyes, thinking of all the stupid things he had to do as a butler.

His curiosity got the best of him. "Oh, so you're not as human as you look either? Something we have in common." He winked, before putting his hands gently in his pants pockets.
"I could show you what I could do, but it's a bit restricted thanks to this piece of- *ahem*"

Suddenly, the Peepy floated up like a rocket, before missiling himself directly at the back of the butlers head.

"Yeah, guess so," Sprite grumbled, now finding that she had no patience for civilized back-and-forth like this. She'd been on the verge of wiping this scrappin' facility out, dammit! And now her bones felt all rubbery, and she had to force herself to chat, instead of escape and wreak havoc. "Don' doubt y'do, guy. Arn' exactly lookin' to compare bicep tho', 'cause I know I'm winnin'. I'm moreso lookin' for a way outta 'ere, so y'can show off all y'want when it gets down to that." He seemed bally enough, really. And not just him. The very moment Sprite's eyes left the plush to look at Mr. Muzzle Mouse, the speckled fluffy critter floated up into the air and came barreling for the butler's skull. Slowed down by her weakened muscles, Sprite lashed out to swat it out of the air, but only fate knew if she would be quick enough to smack it off-course..

Sebastian went to speak, but suddenly he was whacked in the head by the plush despite Sprite's attempts of smacking it away from him. He wasn't hurt, thankfully, but he was damn sure surprised. With an expression of mild shock, he looked down at the plush that had just bonked him in the head. "Now that was very rude, wasn't it?" Sebastian said, before picking the plush up. Suddenly, a grotesque noise that sounded of flesh formed, before Sebastian's mouth unhinged in a splitting manner, showing rows of his sharp teeth and his tongue forming into one that was forked. He couldn't fully do it, due to the muzzle cage, but it was still gruesome looking.*

He seemed to be threatening this somehow alive plush.

*For reference, it's the second picture on his dossier, the one on the bottom. His full version is the one of the right, with the key.

The plush sat there... Like a plush... Almost in a mocking manner.

"Eyy, y'wanna go at it, y'fuzzy ball'o shit?" Sprite growled, scooping the peanut-shaped miscreant off the floor. Truth was, she could care less if Muzzle Mouse was hurt or not- at this point, she just needed an excuse to let off steam on something or someone. "Blegh, fuck's sake!" Meanwhile, the butler had decided to morph his face into a giant, spiky-teethed maw, neatly blocked off by his muzzle. "Tssk, how y'even bite wit' that without 'em proper jaw muscles, huh?" With all that bluff, something had to happen now. Sprite tried to focus all the frustration and anger she felt into a little ball of rage at the center of her being, straining as she did so. She squeezed the weird plush, hoping it would make a sound of some sort that would motivate her beast to come out. So far, though, it seemed vast asleep. Awkward..

Sebastian's face morphed back to normal, furrowing his brow, annoyed at Sprite's jaw muscle comment. He would explain, but it honestly wasn't the time for it.

The demon butler stopped, his eyes widening slightly, the dark brown discoloring and recoloring into a hot pink, with slits for pupils.

He heard footsteps. The staff were going down the hallway.
"The staff are coming, I must leave." Sebastian lowered his voice to Sprite and he supposed the Peepy too.

There was no way he'd hide in this room, the staff might notice the door unlocked and lock him inside with some woman with a strange accent and a creepy cow plush with aggression.

Suddenly, hearing the footsteps as well (smelling them too), the Peepy morphed into the shape of a short, tan, red headed scientist holding a clipboard and a few bowls of peanuts, before walking out of the room.
"No fear!" Said the Peepy(?) "I was just feeding this subject!"
Their accent sounded oddly... Antarctic.

"Who'd y'work for, huh? Y'an whitecoat spy?!" Sprite snarled, shaking the plush like it owed her money. At last, some dark pigment and brown hairs were starting to appear on her wrists and forearms, her muscles burning as they filled with power. That was.. when she was broken from her trance by Muzzle Mouse, and his batch of bad news. "Eyy, what? Where?!" As she watched the weird lanky dude slink away, however, the plush suddenly turned to lead. Sprite could lift a great deal, but not in this position and not so suddenly- next thing she knew, she stood right by a short, red-headed egghead that claimed to their colleague that they were 'feeding' her. What even- "Ey wait! How'd y'.. what's all.." Out of her grasp, and out of the room. "..this." She was flabbergasted and more than a little annoyed.. yet at the same time, no snitch. Sprite wasn't gonna tell on the plush's new scientist form, but it better start counting its days, 'cause her Therion was in dire need of a dog toy.

Sebastian had fled, and was currently hiding in one of the Janitor's Closets. He sighed for a moment, glad he managed to avoid the staff.
He then noticed a soft glow underneath his glove. He went to take it off with his teeth, before he whacked his hand on the muzzle. "Ow-" He furrowed his brow, quietly muttering to himself.

Sebastian instead took the glove off like a normal person for once, and revealed his contract symbol.

"Master, you know damn well I can't get to you right now." Sebastian growled, as if his master could truly hear him. He could not, but Sebastian kept speaking anyway. "I'll try my best to contact you soon." He stuffed his hand quickly back into his glove and listened closely to the door, trying to see when the staff would leave. He heard footsteps pass by, so the strange accented woman and the cow plush must have hid, he didn't know because he was still hiding. He glanced away from the door, only to look at the floor and notice.. claw marks?

He shrugged and creaked the door open, before fleeing back down the hallway, passing right by Sprite and Peepy, ignoring them. Sebastian insisted he wasn't going to be caught, not yet. He needed to do more things before that would happen.

There was rustling up ahead, and low and behold: Muzzle Mouse emerged from his poorly chosen hiding spot and slinked across the hallway to what Sprite presumed to be his own cell. Not at all amused by how easy to was for that sassy beanstalk to creep from the Whitecoats’ spotlights like that, she could only shoot him a grumpy scowl, before returning to the near-crisis at hand. The staff revealed themselves to be.. ..no one less than disgraced ex-Professor Hartmann herself, complete with a frown deeper than the oceanic abyss that carved through her clear brown skin like a chasm. Unforgiving, a woman of steel, and sorta-luckily for her, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone. Probably not even a shapeshifting plushy.. ”Why is it when something happens, it’s always you, 111?” Dr. Hartmann sighed, her subtle accent like a whiff of spice on her voice. ”And I don’t recall any dietary requirements being imposed on SE-0111 here- certainly not one that prioritizes groundnuts over all other foodstuffs.” As her focus shifted towards the suspicious redhead, Sprite decided to steal a peanut from the bowl, popping it into her mouth with a cockily loud crunch. Ha! Hartmann was gonna get their evil fluffy ass, for sure! ”Now, who were you again? Another intern, or have I simply not crossed paths with all my fellow doctors yet?” It did seem to hurt Hartmann that her highly prestigious title of ‘Professor’ had been stripped from her during transfer, and hadn’t she been on the other end of this quiet lab-borne war, Sprite would’ve genuinely felt bad for her. Ol’ Lucy had just done her job, after all, but at the end of the day, it was her fault that she was now in this ridiculous white-tiled madhouse instead of the Outside World.