Experiment #12437: The Cat's Whiskers
Author's Note: William Barlette belongs to my online sis, Raphianna, who kindly agreed to let me borrow him :) Thank you, sis! Thomas and Friends belong to their owners, though the AU belongs to me and Raphianna, and Dr. Markus Holland belongs to me.
Enjoy!
…..
In a small and rural corner of England, stands a tall and imposing building of grey steel plates bolted securely together to make a structure not unlike a futuristic castle. Inside is a labyrinth of white, sterile corridors, with many men and women in white and blue uniforms bustling from room to room, wielding clipboards to their closely guarded hearts.
It is the only one of its kind in the otherwise plain and boring town it looms over; and those who work inside are scientists.
For it is a research laboratory. But it wasn't just any old research laboratory.
It was the Stanford Gage Research Centre, where many experiments were carried out daily, for many different purposes; medicine, cognitive and mental function, cosmetics, household cleaning… the laboratory covered everything in the three science branches of chemistry, biology and physics.
Based in room 758, was the greatest scientist that ever graced the Stanford Gage Research Centre; Dr. Markus Holland. As brilliant and intelligent he was, Markus was also a cruel man; he saw animals as 'drug runners' and would ignore cries of pain and misery. It made no difference to him if a newborn kitten or the last elephant in the world died on his hands; any failure in his experiments weighed more on his conscience than a cruelly manipulated death or torture.
Even now, he flashes an eel-like grin towards the resident in the chair in the middle of the room. It was a boy, no older than fifteen, strapped into the chair by his ankles, his wrists and his waist; and was struggling in vain to at the least loosen his bonds.
"Now, now, boy, stop squirming." Markus tells him, gently placing a hand onto the child's shoulder before forcing him into the chair with a dull thump. The boy groans, feeling the doctor's fingers dig into his shoulder.
"Now… you know why you're here, correct?" he asks in a sickening croon, pulling over an overhead light to shine it into his subject's eyes.
"…I… don't want to go through with it…" the kid whispers bravely but painfully, his voice hoarse and his eyes overwhelmed by the bright glare beaming down on him.
"Oh now, this is for the greater good of humankind." Markus replies. "You are special… so special…" he giggles a little, rubbing his hands lustily as he admires his handiwork, before pulling out an object, glinting in the mechanical gleam of the light.
"Just relax, little one," he says, stroking the pale arm nearest him.
Gagging, but unable to wriggle away, the boy watches with wide eyed horror as the syringe slowly makes its way towards his arm; and before he realizes it, his flesh is penetrated by a small prick.
It never mattered how many times he experienced this; he always felt a fresh wave of vulnerability and invasion hit him like a tidal wave.
Nearby, a 47-year-old man with red hair and blue eyes steps forward. "Doctor, please, I have seen enough," He orders, "Please let my son go,"
"Why, but Mr. Barlette, your son is a most unusual specimen. Why, there are very few people who have such features like young Thomas's. I merely wish to find out why this is so."
"But he is my son, and it is my job to protect him. Now please, stop." William orders, glaring at the doctor in defiance.
Markus hesitates, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he regards the engineer standing protectively next to the chair securing his son. "Well, I would hate to lose such a valuable opportunity such as this…"
"I had allowed Thomas to come here to find answers; but on the specific request that he would not be placed in harm's way," William growls quietly.
"And he isn't," Markus purrs. "Believe me, if I had it my way, Mr. Barlette, I would test his cognitive action to see if it is any different from a physically typical person; but he is too young for such action, regarding the ethics board," he spat in disgust.
"Now, I have here a small blood sample from Thomas, which I will run through to see if I can pick up…abnormal DNA, alongside the other samples I have taken." He says, before retreating to a storage facility to locate some supplies needed to carry on with his work.
William gasps in quiet shock, his ears burning at the thought of such a horrible man handling his son's DNA so carelessly. How could he have ever agreed to let Thomas do this?
'I must do what I can to protect my son,' William decides. He had had enough of watching Thomas whimper on the chair. He could understand why Thomas was upset, and he didn't blame him in the least; but his poor son should not have been treated so barbarically in the first place!
"Father… please, help me…" Thomas moans, looking up at his beloved father and guardian with sad, sky-blue eyes.
William's own cornflower blue eyes meet his son's, and he nods affirmatively. "I will, my son…" And with that, he fishes out a pair of pliers from his pocket, which he uses to gently saw through the leather straps securing Thomas to the seat.
Once the straps were cut, William quickly shuffles to the door, a supportive arm around Thomas as the daring duo make their escape from the room.
Thomas wraps his tail around his Father's leg, and keeps his tiny, pointed ears alert for any danger from the other scientists.