Post by danishweasel on Dec 6, 2007 17:19:46 GMT -5
On the outskirts of Corvistowne, a lone building stood quite separated from the others. It was almost as if this particular structure had a reason to pull away from its peers. Certainly couldn’t have been because it felt high and mighty compared to the rest of the buildings there. No, this one was just as rundown as the others with some places “repaired” by nailing wooden planks over the holes in the roof or over the shattered windows. Mold and ivy covered the outside walls, concealing any paint, wood or stone that might be underneath. From the looks of it, the place was completely deserted.
The door was open just a crack, revealing what looked to be an old lab. The instruments – Bunsen burners, beakers, test tubes, pipettes, gas syringes, even a rudimentary fume hood – were present, though looked like they had hardly been used. Samples lined the wall on one of the counters on the opposite side of the room. Dust had collected on them and the labels had nothing written on them. Perhaps the original owner had left, leaving his instruments behind. Maybe the owner had died of old age and had no one to take over the lab. Maybe this was not a lab at all.
Down below the foundations of the laboratory, past tricks and traps and false entryways, was the real lab. Also, a black lab. A black lab with loud green patterns and even louder pink armbands. Paws to the table, she stood on her hind legs, delicately pouring a black-brown substance into a test tube. As delicately as she could, anyway. While the modified beaker possessed a cushioned, textured handle she could grip in her teeth, it was still difficult to pour precise amounts with a slight tip of the head. After putting the beaker down, she put her nose to the test tube, eyeing the amount. Satisfied, she nipped the test tube up and padded towards the fume hood. There stood a Bunsen burner, already lit and prepared, awaiting the new substance. Once again putting her paws on the table, she shifted her weight to the front, working her hind legs precariously up a small step stool. This, of course, was to get enough height to place the test tube in its stand over the burner without burning herself. And with the somewhat unruly mane that she had, that was a feat all to itself. Fortunately, the emergency shower was not necessary this time around. She watched the progress of the liquid as it changed from its murky brown color to a sickly orange.
“Just about…there!”
This time with a tan muzzle oven mitt, she took the test tube and poured it into a syringe similar to the way she had poured the contents of the beaker into the test tube.
“Now, to test…”
She trotted over to a set of cages. Six contained a bandersnatch each, all of which looked relatively well-cared for. The cages were clean, the food and water had been changed within the day. Still, they looked rather ill, though not all suffering from the same malady. One itched madly at its fur which looked like it had scabbed over in some places. One had glazed-over eyes, a runny nose, and had frequent sneeze spasms. Another seemed relatively calm one moment, and the next, went into a frenzy, baring its teeth and chasing its tail in circles. The one next to it looked a bit sluggish, but relatively fine. One was having muscle spasms in the back corner of its cage. The last, considerably older than the others, had a terrible lack of eyes.
“How are my little babies today? Oh, you’re looking better, Spotty!”
She took the key, which looked like a metal stick, from the adjacent wall. After placing the stick into the hole and completing the level, she clamped on and pulled down, opening the cage with the sluggish bandersnatch.
“Are you well enough to help Ataxia with her little tests today?”
The bander stumbled to its feet, wandered to the edge of the cage, and promptly vomited, almost hitting Ataxia’s armbands. She gently shut the cage with a forepaw.
“Guess not. How about you, Vortex? You’re looking feisty today.”
Vortex growled at the cage, biting at the bars. Ataxia opened the cage, somehow managing to avoid being mauled in the process. As she opened the cage, however, she wasn’t able to catch Vortex by the scruff and the bander was loose.
“Get back here, you little…Aaaah! Stay away from those!”
Ataxia bolted, syringe in mouth, after the renegade Vortex. The bander rushed under tables and stools with the scientist close on its heels. It was a miracle that only three beakers and nine test tubes were shattered in the chase before Ataxia pounced true and pinned the bandersnatch. Not wasting a moment’s time, she pushed the needle through the skin on its right forearm and inserted the chemical by nudging the back of the syringe with her muzzle. Vortex shrieked, muscles stiffened, foaming at the mouth. The fur and muscle that surrounded where the needle had been placed was rotting away at an accelerated rate.
“Oh, hush up, you big baby…It’s not so…Oh. Vaccine!”
She jumped up to the table where she had first been using the beaker and grabbed another syringe, this one filled with a clear liquid. Ataxia then hurried back to Vortex and gave it the vaccine. After a minute or so, the bandersnatch relaxed, still breathing, but the limb that was given the shot had all but rotted away, leaving nothing but its skeletal remains.
“Well…it could have been worse, right? Heck, that’s why we’re given four limbs.”
She nipped Vortex by the scruff, hefted it up, and placed it back into its cage, locking it securely.
“That fleshrot is still working too fast…Ah well. Hope I didn’t wake up the neighbors.”
