Ok, so this is a oneshot for now...if anyone really likes it, I may write more.
I OWN MIMIC AND CARLOS
I don't own MR...though I wish I did.
The tired looking old Hispanic man ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, before placing a shiny silver key into a matching shiny silver knob. He gave the key a well-remembered jiggle and twist, causing the lock to click softly and let the janitor in. A cleaning-cart followed the man in and the door closed behind them.
He knew the room well, as it was on of the few that weren't in use, and therefore his favorite. He liked the quiet after cleaning all the rooms' filled moans, growls, and screams of dieing experiments. He pushed the cart ahead of him into the darkness, expecting it to glide to the middle of the room unhindered. But instead, there was the clank of metal hitting metal followed by a high-pitched squeal of a frighten child.
He quickly reached over and flicked the switch. The room filled with light and soft hums of the florescent bulbs. This room, like most of them, held a steel desk full of equipment, a large computer, and a examination table on the left side. The right side was for dog crates. The stark white walls and the white tile only added to the sterilized feeling.
Sure enough, his cart had bumped right into a newly added dog crate. Inside was a little girl that looked as if she had just woken up. Her big gold eyes were clouded with a mixture of sleep and fright as she eyed the old Hispanic and the cleaning cart that had bumped her cage. Her wispy red hair framed a pale but lively looking face.
"I'm very sorry Chica, for frightening you like that. This room has been empty for the last two years."
The man started to clean without a second glance at her. He didn't expect an answer back, but figured that a soothing voice might keep the little girl quiet. Most of these kids couldn't talk. Plus, he had spoke in Spanish, since his English was terrible at best. So when the girl spoke back…in Spanish, it was almost enough to give the man a heart attack.
"It's ok, the big people just put me here. Why did you call me Chica?"
He whipped around and walked over to the cage, his eyes almost crazy.
"Little Chica speaks Spanish?"
"Nooo, I speak the same as always….I learned from another group of kids."
She spoke honestly. It seemed that she thought she was speaking English. Well, it would be wrong to tell ITEX about this. They would just torment the poor girl even more.
"Chica is a….It's a nice way of saying girl…since I don't know your name."
The girl paused, thinking..then spoke while pointing to the clipboard that hung on the side of the cage.
"Well my experiment number is on there…or they sometimes call me Polly, then they laugh like something is funny."
The man reached over and looked over the clipboard. It was in English…but he could decipher most of it.
Expm: #AHP24057
Age: 4y, 6m
DNA Hybrid: Human to Yellow crowned Amazon Parrot
Life Span expected: 12y
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.
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(At bottom)
Notes:
Seems to dislike eating meat.
Has poor night vision, virtually blind (further experimentation needed for study and possible improvement surgery)
Has exceptional vision during the day. (Exceeds experiments with raptor DNA)
Feathers are close to waterproof
Experiment seems to have trouble at staying warm in low temperatures
The man made a disgusted sound as he dropped the clipboard back against the cage. He had never talked with one of these kids before, but already, he disliked the way they treated this girl. She wasn't a thing…she was a person. He reached down and open the cage for the girl. The whitecoats were long gone, so no one would see the few hours of freedom that he would grant to her.
"Well, my name is Carlos. And I belive that we shall come up with a name for you. Ok little Chica? Polly is a bad name…a mean one too."
The fire haired girl climbed out and clung to Carlos's leg with unbounded happiness. Her green multi-colored wings were a bit to big for her petite body, but it just added to her cutness that was quickly melting the old mans heart.
"Yay! Yay! I get a name! A name!….oh, Carlos? Why do they call me Polly?"
"Because it's an old joke about parrots, that all they say is 'Polly wanna cracker?'…and you have parrot wing."
When she frowned at that Carlos bent down and picked her up, giving her the first hug she probably ever had. The little body tensed agaist his, then slowly hugged back.
"What do parrots do?"
"Well, they can learn to talk and mimic human phrases."
"Mimic?"
"Yes, it means 'to copy'"
"Oh…I like it…Mimic. I wanna be Mimic."
Carlos quickly moved though his work, clean this cage, dust that computer, and don't let the steal door hit him on the way out. The whitecoats never did figure out why he started the work so fast four years ago. Never figured out why one of their experiments was happier, and worked through their poking and prodding with a smile. Or why she was stronger at flying then she should be, with the time she was given.
When he made it to Mimic's room, the first thing he always did was flick on the light, lock the door, and open her cage. Normally she would hop out and give him a cheery hello. But today she crawled out with a pained look on her face. When she jumped into his arms, he hugged her always. Though 'always' didn't include the blood that coated the back of her small dress.
"Little Chica, what did they do?!"
She buried her head in his shoulder and mumbled the response. When he pulled her away and raised an eyebrow that said 'you won't get out of it' she sighed and turned around. Her beautiful wings stretched to their full span, but it was all-wrong. Those damned whitecoats had pulled out her primary feathers, leaving the girl clipped and grounded. A few of the feather beds wept dark blood onto the clean white floor.
Sweat covered and dripped off the pale ten year old as she fought to hover in the air. Her body trembled while her emerald wing beat grew more and more labored. Her bear toes were only inches from the ground now, but her face said that shw was going to give up yet.
"How long half I been flying?" She ground out between gasps and shallow breaths.
"3 hours Little Chica, don't you think it's time to rest?" Carlos checked the stop watch and sighed unhappily. He feared what might happen if she continued to push herself like this. She was doing so good early, flying about the room. After 3 hours of no breaks she was reduced to barely keeping above the ground. He knew that she was trying to increase her stamina for an escape. But her skinny body could only take so much.
A groan broken through his thoughts and the elder felt his heart stop it his throat. His strong tanned arms barely made it out in time to catch the exhausted child before she hit the floor. She had collapsed from the strain, and looked unconscious.
"Mimic!" Carlos's voice was half a whisper, as if to not wake her.
" 'm ok…'arlos. Just tire'." She mumbled as she snuggled into his chest before going quiet again. Deep breaths told the man that his little charge was fast asleep, and probably wouldn't awake till morning. He placed her back in the cage, and murmured a gruff 'goodnight' before tucking the tiny sheet around her and leaving for the night.
"FLY MIMIC!! I TOLD YOU TOO FLY" Roared the old Mexican as he pushed her out the back door of his little cabin. The girl's feathers ruffled in a sure sign that she was about to argue once again. But he didn't give her a chance by giving her a good shove. These old bones of his could tell that trouble was coming.
She stumbled forward before jumping into the air. A glimmer of hope showed, as her strong wing beats didn't falter despite the weight of a backpack full of provisions. She turned around, about to say something but the sound erasers stalled her. Her face showed that she wanted to run, but also wanted to save Carlos.
He flicked on the flashlight and handed it to her. His face gave away nothing of his emotions. He was old and ready to die, and dieing for his cub was the best way to go. She took it from him and turned so her tears didn't show. Her speech was unhindered though.
"Never say 'goodbye'…only 'goodnight'." With that, she rose into the darkness, up away…free.
"Good my Little Chica." Behind him the front door burst open to revel five wolf like erasers and five more that were so beautifully prefect looking that you might want to cry. Expect Carlos, who wanted to rip their prefect model throats out.
One of the males stalked toward him with a predatory smile, while a petite fea behind him innocently played with a handgun.
"Did you know" the eraser drawled, "that stealing a wolves chicken dinner is a deadly crime. Tell us were it is or ITEX may consider Mexican food more to our liking." A course of laughter sounded behind the human wolf, which smiled to show off some really sharp teeth. Carlos growled out an answer that probably wasn't the best one.
"Did you know that you and your owners will never lay a hand on her again?"
The fea lifted the gun to chest level and pouted.
"Pity, I always prefered them fresh."
BANG