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Victoria

You know, I was expecting them to imprison me, but not to this extent. My strength is being sapped by all the tubes, needles, and wires attached to me. I can't even open my eyes. Fighting back isn't an option--not that I would get very far if I did manage to escape--but that's okay. I'm unconscious. I know that because I can see my spotted body suspended there, in that weird, gel-like blue fluid. A disgusting grey muzzle covers my own, within which a small transparent tube runs down my throat, pumping air into my lungs. I have on the same underwear from when I was 'captured' a month ago; they all refuse to go anywhere near my legs. I'm sure they've heard the stories. Other than the routine tests they perform on my body in the mornings, no one pays attention to me. I suppose this is a good thing--it lets me do whatever I want during the day, assuming I'm not too 'gone'--but I hate being ignored. Whatever. Soon enough they will all get what they deserve. But for now, I'll just watch.

"How is she?" Romix asks, staring at my body. He's the dickish fox in charge of this whole thing. I'm fucking great, I think to myself, thanks for asking.

"Stable," answers an otter named Bivik whose grubby little paws are holding a tablet with my vital signs on it.

Romix nods, placing a paw on the reinforced tank surrounding my body, "And there's no chance she'll wake up?"

Bivik looks at some other data on his tablet, semi-ignoring the question Romix always asks, "Not while she's in this state, no."

From my vent I'm hiding behind, I watch him walk around my tank, observing me like some sort of precious treasure he found and wants to preserve. Bivik follows, reading off my vitals to his tail-less boss.

"Heart rate."

"Ninety-three BPM. Average for a cheetah."

"Brain waves."

"Equal to deep sleep, sir."

Romix folds his paws behind his back, giving me a cold stare. I stare right back at him from behind this vent. His red-orange fur stands out against the chilling white walls and uniforms. Stop looking at me like that. One of my small feet slips on the ladder I'm holding onto when a worrying thought crosses my mind: what if he knows I'm not in my own body?

As I regain my footing, Romix stops staring at me and turns back to the large screen at the front of the room. Below the screen sit about ten or twelve scientists all working hard on what I'm assuming are the systems that keep me alive. I hate all of them, though I am grateful for their work. I'd be dead otherwise. That doesn't excuse all the terrible things they've probably done.

"How long has it been?" Romix asks, frowning at his wristband.

"One month since launch," Bivik answers, sitting down in a chair by the control panel in the center of the room.

"Have the Pets initiated Phase 2 yet?" His black paws seem to tamper with something on the bottom of his wristband. Watching him causes me to notice my own arms getting tired; this poor kid must not have that much stamina. Regardless, I release my left paw from the ladder and try to mimic what he's doing with this kid's wristband. Maybe he doesn't like these things either.

Bivik taps his tablet a few times, then passes it to Romix. "Not yet. The botanists need more time to finish their experiments."

"How much more time do they need?" Romix growls, swiping the tablet multiple times but not seeming to find his answer.

"There," Bivik gets him back on the right page. Cute, I think to myself, though I know they wouldn't call it that. "The leading researcher, Nim Phiron, has been making significant progress in the--"

"They haven't even started Phase 2 and they're calling this 'significant progress'?" Romix tosses the tablet back to Bivik. A short, high-pitched squeak escapes the otter's mouth as he barely catches it. Romix mumbles something under his breath.

Bivik glares at him, following him back to my tank. "Phase 2 was originally set to begin two months after launch. With the progress this researcher has made, the Pets are planning to push their other plans forward." Other plans?

Romix stops in place and perks his ears, looking up at me, "Do those other plans involve Ms. Thunder Thighs here?" I snicker to myself. Maybe I'll keep that nickname.

"I'm not sure, sir. They were very secretive about--" Bivik seems to freeze as well. "Wait, what are you thinking?"

Romix half-turns his head back to Bivik, "Bring the fluid levels down to eight. I want to try talking to her."

_ Shit_. This is bad.

"But sir," Bivik says worriedly, "it's dangero--"

"I know," Romix interrupts, "Do it."

I use the otter's hesitation as a head-start. I pull my face away from the vent and quickly search for a ledge or something to lean against. The whistling sound the tank emits when it starts draining rings through this long maintenance shaft. I can tell by the sound how far down this goes and... Damn, I gotta find something quick. The moment I spot a ledge I start to feel the cool air on my face and I lose feeling in my paws. The ladder slips out of my grasp, but I manage to hang on with my other paw. Then I start choking; they must have removed the tube from my throat. I try to hold my breath but my muscle convulsions are too strong. My mind jolts between bodies, and I can't hang on. My eyesight fails as I fall down the long, dark maintenance shaft. Fuck...I'm so sorry, kid.

"Victoria..."

"Victoria?"

"Victoria, can you hear me?"

"Victoria, wake up."

"Hey...did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I told you, sir. Reanimating--"

"I'm fully aware of that, Bivik."

"That 'thud.'"

"Victoria...? Is she even still in there?"

"No, I didn't hear anything."

"Sir?"

"Thought I heard something..."

"What is it, Fen?"

"I don't understand...she should be responsive..."

"Something happened, sir."

"Have you tried checking her brain waves?"

"For God's sake Fen, what is it?"

"Floor 35, sir..."

"Of course I fucking checked her brain waves! I'm not an idiot!"

"...we have a problem. There was an explosion, sir."

_ You bet your fucking ass you got a problem._