(A/N: next chapter is up! Read about my apologies and all the other stuff at the end of the section!)

Light On The Mayo
by The Great Red Dragon

Chapter 4

A while later, 625 sat on the floor of the teleporter room, feeling more stressed and harassed than he was used to. His fingers were sticky and tacky, his feet were cut, and the sweat that constantly dripped off his brown and into his eyes aggravated his to all extent as he tried to glue the lid of the teleporter back together.The process was miserable, which was exactly how he was feeling. Muttering light curses under his breath, his dark expression mirrored by the dim lighting, as he tried repeatedly to somehow piece together teeny-tiny shards of the glass-like material (some of which he had made even smaller by stepping onto), some of which were by now only in fractional size.

"…Stupid…make me do all the work…sitting here, working my butt off, while he's out there, doing who-knows-what…"

He grumbled and complained to no one in sight, and his mind drifted into a state of dullness…so it wasn't long before he cut himself sharply on the finger.

"OUCH!", he shouted in both pain and stress, and hid his finger in his mouth.

He cursed some swear-words (although they were rendered inaudible by him sucking on his finger) and stood up violently. He limped over to the openable window (remember, he cut his feet), and climbed onto a nearby chair. He flung it open with a blunt gesture, and shouted out into the jungle;

"Why don't you fix that stupid lid?! See if I care when Hamster-wheel turns you into sushi! I hope he uses salt so you'll shrivel up faster!"

And with that, he slammed the window.
He knew very well that nobody (especially Gantu) could hear him…and he even knew (just subconsciously at the moment) that he didn't mean what he had just shouted…even though it gave him a momentary vent of his frustration.
He jumped down from the chair and kicked it. It fell over with a clang, and a pang of pain in his toes. He shouted some more exclamations, but decided against trying to punch anything. Instead, he turned around and stomped (as best he could) out of the room.

It was a short while later, and 625 was in the rec room. He had passed the main chamber without a care, and had gone straight for an armchair…where, under the cushion, he found a cheese, potato-salad, and roast beef sandwich. Upon biting into this odd combination, it had the same, instantaneously effect that someone might get by drinking a fresh beer – relief.
625 'hmmmed' peacefully as he felt his stress melt away, and chewed-up condiments went down his throat and into his stomach.
He enjoyed this sandwich immensely, and ate it very slowly, with his eyes closed. Like a long-lasting point of pleasure, the feeling held until he had swallowed the last bite…and then, he felt so much calmer.
Now that he was clear-headed again, he sought out a washcloth and the first-aid kit in the bathroom. He washed and scrubbed his hands free of the dried glue, and washed his cut foot with the washcloth. He then applied a role of bandage-wrap to the small injury, and smeared disinfectant over his palms (it was unknown to many that he was very well-informed about first-aid).
He considered going back into the teleporter-room and resume his repair-job…but it seemed like such a hassle, and his favorite TV show was about to come on…besides, Gantu probably wouldn't be back so soon, anyway…
So he sat down comfortably in the armchair (keeping the sandwiches warm at the same time), grabbed another sandwich in one hand, the remote control in the other, and settled into a 'snooze-time', where the entire world revolved around the soap opera and the cheese-and-honey-mustard.
It was his own personal paradise.

Time passed, and so did the television show. As the credits rolled, 625 sat cozily in the armchair, looking very lazy but comfortable as well. With his eyes only halfway open, a once-bitten sandwich in his hand, and a careless strand of saliva hanging from his lower lip, he looked halfway between being drunk and being in a coma…but, of course, this wasn't the case; it was just 625's feeling of ultimate comfort.
He had dropped the remote control, and he didn't want to get back up to retrieve it…but, considering that what followed his show was a program less-than-desirable, it was pretty much the only choice for him. He slothed out of the seat, and wiped the drool from his mouth as he did so. He grabbed the remote, and jumped back into the chair with a grunt. Then, with a well-trained finger, he began to flip though the different channels in search of something good;
"…Junk…trash…garbage…compost…"

625 heaved in exasperation, as though he were a wrongfully-unsatisfied foreman. There was absolutely nothing good on; nothing to sir his interest…unless he would've included the cartoon channel (but he was still wary to admit it to himself).

"Always gotta do things by myself…", he complained to himself, and got back up again.

He moved over to a shelf that held video cassettes. It was a strange fact, but Gantu kept a very wide array of movies in his ship, even though he never watched them.

"Better for me, then", 625 would think, as he thought to himself now, and scanned the shelves for something that was worth his time.

It was then that he noticed something. At first, it was just a simple twitching in his ears…he realized that he had been hearing it almost the whole time he had been watching TV, but not paid any attention to it. But now, it was growing more persistent. He wasn't sure what it was…but managed to distinguish it between whimpering and type of incoherent jabbering.
At the moment, it wasn't anything he fretted about; a movie seemed more appealing than investigating a strange noise. He popped the cassette into the VCR and settled back into his chair, intent on continuing to wring the lazy entertainment.
But it turned out that his enjoyment would be a bit…'imperfect'.
The longer he watched the movie, the louder the noise seemed to get (or, he simply couldn't ignore it as much anymore). He only wanted to turn the volume up so much, and only wanted to stick one earplug into his ear (so he could still listen to the television). But no matter what he tried, the whimpering sounds kept their intent, and by then, 625 didn't have to guess from where or who they were coming from.
The Experiment handcuffed to the pole seemed to be somewhat uncool with his situation…and 625 was actually kind of annoyed, considering that no other Experiment had ever made such a racket (he then considered they had been stowed away behind the glass of the teleporter).
But he didn't know what to do if he decided to 'take action'. He had no idea how to deal with a crying Experiment…and besides, Gantu had ordered him not to go near him.

…Then again, Gantu had also ordered him to stay on the job…

He pondered the matter as he chewed another sandwich, and the solution seemed quite simple: go into the main chamber, confront the Experiment, ask him politely to go on with his business a bit more quietly (if he's difficult, bribe him with a sandwich), and go on with the movie-watching.
625 decided it was foolproof…then again, he didn't have much experience in plan-making, and Gantu usually got his (plans) messed up…so 625 thought it would be a whole lot less difficult for him.
He moved out into the hallway, towards the main chamber. Once there, he peeked around the corner cautiously before going in, as his view was no longer occupied by Gantu's massive bulk.
The Experiment clamped to the pole was a bit smaller than he was, and he was a lighter, more yellowish orange than he was. His head was somewhat rectangular; it seemed to extend more sideways than it did vertically. The fur around his eyes and belly were a lighter color.
He looked nothing short of distraught, and even worse. He was clamped to the pole in a way that couldn't have been comfortable: the cuffs were locked so low that he had to rest heavily on his knees, and his second set of arms that protruded from his back had been painfully positioned against their joints, over his head. They were bent the wrong way, and it looked as if it was hurting him a lot.
His face was turned, so 625 couldn't read his expression. He then noticed that the noise he had been hearing seemed to have grown quieter as he had come closer…either that, or…something else that he didn't want to understand at the moment.
He stepped out from behind the corner with enough noise to alert anybody to his presence, but the Experiment didn't seem to notice him at all. 625 then broke another rule of Gantu's and called aloud;
"…Hey!"

The Experiment didn't respond.

"Hello…!"

No response.

"…Hey, I'm trying to watch something in the back, so could you maybe?..."

He tried addressing the Experiment more times, but all without effect. Even when he raised his voice, his head still remained turned, and the incoherent whimpering continued. He eventually tried to make out what he was saying, but was only able to make out a few muttering words here and there.
Carefully, he began to move around to face the character. He didn't move or make any attempts to continue to conceal his face, convincing 625 that the Experiment wasn't aware of his presence. He moved a bit further around, just close enough to see his face.
The Experiment's face was turned down, and was hidden partially by the shadows, but that couldn't hide what he was obviously feeling. His eyes, naturally light, were darkly-rimmed, and his face was tear-stained. The rim of his mouth was shining with inconsistent saliva, and his nose was running. His bound hands were positioned right by his mouth, and his continuous whimpering was keeping the stainless metal fogged. His tears flowed over the dark patches under his eyes, wetting and re-wetting the soft tissue. He made no attempt to clean himself; his trance-like state was occupying him fully.

625's first mental reaction was; "Ewww…".

It was his given logic that made him come to this 'conclusion'. After all, all of the other Experiments that Gantu had managed to capture hadn't acted up like this, so what was this guy's problem? Was he some kind of wimp?
Whatever the reason was, he wasn't really interested; he only hoped that the Experiment would snap out of it long enough to get the picture that he should shut up.

"…Hey!", he said once again, louder than before.

Still, there was no response.

"Hey, wake up!"

Nothing.

Before continuing any further, 625 realized that this probably wasn't going to have much effect. Instead, he reached out and prodded the Experiment with one finger.
The Experiment's eyes draped open slowly, and 625 backed up a bit. The Experiment's eyes were bloodshot and watery, taking away from a purple pupil. His gaze was the incarnation of agony, but overall, he looked beaten and confused. His face rose to 625's, and his eyes caught 625's.

"…You awake?", 625 asked, and quickly persued his question.
"Listen, I'm trying to watch something in the other room, so could you maybe keep this down?"

The Experiment then spoke in a sob that was dry from his draining spirit.

"Please…", he begged in a voice barely distinguishable from a simple whimper.
"Please, brother…help me…"

This caught 625 off guard. He really didn't prepare on being addressed, and certainly not a topic such as this…but his silence gave the Experiment another chance to beg him.

"Please…", he whimpered in a stretched-out moan.
"Please help me…it hurts so much…"

"…Uh…", 625 replied slowly.
"I-uh…I…can't really do that…"

The Experiment blinked his teary eyes and swallowed a sob.

"…Wh-why?"

625 groaned and sighed at the same time.

"Look, I can't let you go", he said.
"My partner told me that I can't let you go anywhere…as a matter of fact, I shouldn't even be talking to you. I was just watching TV, and you were…"

He looked down; the Experiment's sad gaze was slowing down his train of thought.

"Look!", he exclaimed, more forcefully than before.
"Gantu caught you, and you're gonna be on your way to someplace else pretty soon. I can't let you go, or I'll get kicked in the rear. If I let you go, cod-face will probably turn me into a basketball, and he'll just go after you again. It's a lose-lose situation every way you turn, so could you just…please be quiet?"

The Experiment looked back at him, with blank and confused eyes. He didn't seem able to process what 625 had just said; perhaps of the severe amount of stress he was in.
He blinked once, and for a moment his tears seemed to stop for a moment. He looked at 625, and asked in a quiet, sobbed whisper;
"But…why can't you help me?"

"Look!", 625 exclaimed loudly.
"I can't let you go! Don't you understand that? In a short while, you're gonna be on your way to the idiot called Hamster-wheel, unless this heroic cousin of mine and his little Hawaiian girl-friend come and try to find some place for you that you don't even wanna be in, so just be quiet and let me watch TV!"

It wasn't quite a rant, but 625 was out of breath when he finished. He couldn't remember ever talking to anybody so forcefully, and it immediately seemed wrong to him…but it seemed to have shut up the Experiment.

"…Oh…", he finally responded, and it was in his quietest voice yet.

He lowered his face and his head, as far as his position would allow.

"…Alright…"

625 then noticed that his shoulders had slumped greatly, as if he himself was depressed…which he then realized that he was. He didn't know if it was triggered by his unnatural outburst, or by the fact that he had been unnaturally agitated, something he thought was impossible, considering his easy-going style…
He realized that it wasn't the Experiment's fault.

"…Look…", he explained, for the third time, in a much lower and calmer voice.
"I can't let you go…because if I do, I'll get in so much trouble. If I could do anything for you, I would…but………oh; I can't really make you understand, can I?"

The Experiment didn't raise his head or make any response at all.
625 opened his mouth to say something, but stopped in mid-breath and turned it into a sigh. He didn't know what else to say, or what else to do…besides walk away. His conscience was screaming at him to do something else, but he didn't know what. He didn't know how to react to somebody's suffering, or even what real suffering was.
He felt fairly ignorant.
625 looked back up, and tried to tell himself that the matter was done. He tried to walk, but his feet felt like lead. So he shuffled away, with an iron ring around his neck so heavy it weighed his head back down; an iron ring of guilt and what-a-selfish-idiot-I-am. The Experiment said or did nothing; he wasn't even crying anymore.
625 hated himself.
But he did nothing more than walk away, back towards the rec room. He knew that he should look back, but it was too shameful to admit that he was too ashamed to; it seemed a pathetic excuse.
Without anything else he knew to say, he skulked back to the television and the armchair. He tried hard, for a long time, to get back into the mood of the movie…but it was impossible.

Some time passed, and 625 had lost interest in the movie; it had now ended, and the screen had gone loud and fuzzy. He had spent the last few minutes wondering why Gantu wasn't back yet, and what was keeping him. He considered that the new Experiment was giving him trouble; that was probably it. He sighed and shifted uncomfortably; he was bored. He had almost forgotten about his encounter with the 'prisoner'; it hadn't been intentionally, but his nature served a slow memory.
How was he now?
Out of the blue, his ears began twitching again. More alert than before, he perked up and listened for another unusual sound…and indeed, there was one.
Bang…
Bang…
Bang…
The sound was distant and echoing, and this time, he didn't need to guess who was making them. 625 jumped up from his seat and hurried back down the corridor, towards the main chamber. He only thought of what was going on now, and what the Experiment could be doing.
For the second time, he rounded the corner that lead into the chamber, and fixed his eyes immediately on the Experiment.
This time, he wasn't sitting quietly with his head down, and he wasn't teary-eyed.
His forehead and face were bruised, and trickled with blood; he had been repeatedly banging his head against the metal pole he was cuffed to.

(A/N: alrighty…I think an apology is in order, considering that I promised to update almost daily; there's never been a bigger lie told. I hope I can be forgiven…
625's nastiness towards 322 is definitely out-of-character, but it'll play a part later in the story; literally teaches him about compassion
Okay; see y'all soon!...
Hey…where is everybody?)