A small sigh escaped the one T-Ech had come to know as Whiskey or "W-23". He'd taken a bit of a bruising during the last time they'd been let out of the room for training purposes. It had been three months since the last mutant smeet had come into this world of padded walls and empty hallways with many unknown noises and that smeet had angered the one that trained them, "the controller" as the mutants referred to her in their language of growls and hisses.

Zulu, as the youngest was known by, was also the smallest of the smeets and she tended to take the brunt of their tall trainer's temper when it reared it's ugly head and Whiskey had decided to attempt to stop them this time and had sunk his teeth into her leg, earning himself several good kicks to the side and face until he released, mouth drenched in blood and a more deranged look than usual on his face, one of aggression and hunger for the metalic taste of the blood.

Their controller had passed out from blood loss not long after and had been nonchalantly dragged away by Kaz while their vortian caretaker, Tin calmed down the smeets and wiped Whiskey's mouth off with a napkin she had stuffed in her pocket during her lunch break.

She favored the smeets over contact with her co-workers because they were tough, relentless little creatures that refused to break under the pressure put on them. They were built to be disposable killing machines for the battlefield to replace irkens with PAKs. Dogs, so to speak, that no one would care about if and when they dropped dead so long as they managed to kill something. Easy to make and easy to train, unfortunately as the lab workers had found out the hard way the last one was not so true.

The smeets held a fierce hatred for those who barked orders at them and that hatred manifested in a stubborn unwillingness to follow instruction and marked amounts of hissing and spitting at their trainers as well as many, sometimes fatal scratches and bites. They were picky and choose carefully whom they listened to. Unfortunately the trainers never caught on to the fact that a steady voice and even temperament was best for coaxing them into cooperation...

Whiskey curled up in the blanket pile on the other side of the room and closed his eyes, not noticing when T-Ech crawled over, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. She poked him gently, wondering what exactly he was feeling, guilt was not what she felt when she'd bit their last trainer or Kaz who had been lucky enough the bite hadn't left a deep wound. Just a predatory lust for the blood of those who treated her like dirt.

He swatted her hand away with a whine only to snap his eyes wide open when the other smeet curled up against his side instead of leaving. T-Ech patted his head not knowing much about comforting others, though despite her lack of experience her fellow mutant cracked smile and hugged her with a tired purr of thanks as she returned the gesture. Slowly, slowly they both drifted off to sleep to dream of the wonderful stories Tin told of the outside before she left them to go to sleep...