Oneshots! (Mostly Hermitcraft)

Watch Me Fly [Cub, Grian]

[POV: Cub, 1st person]

TW: brief mention of drugs, injuries, weapons, fire (lmk if any others)

WC: 3,139 (I got a bit carried away, sorry)

^-^

Experiment #169

Subject name: Grian Xelqua

Purpose: Assess whether stem cells from a bird can be successfully implanted and grown to support the weight of a human male.

Background: we began with small modifications to humans to enhance speed, hearing, smell, breathing capabilities, and vision, among others. More recently, we have been able to reduce the size of one of our own to that of a human for more accurate record keeping. The next goal is to assess the growth of new pathways in the body that allows the person to gain control and use of new limbs.

\o/ \o/ \o/

I resisted the urge to dash the tablet against the ground, once again reminded of what my job truly meant. I looked up at the twenty-foot tall giant in front of me, his size being the primary factor of awkwardness in our conversation.

"It's time?" I ask instead, making direct eye contact.

"Yes, young Cub. I trust you will remain faithful to the procedure so as not to endanger Experiment 169's life." I ground my teeth as I left, enraged at his discrimination against the human species. Although they were the closest thing we could find to unlocking Protoculture, many of my kind insisted on looking upon them as inferiors.

Of course, since we're a good three or four times their height, it's easy to fall into the mistake. I suppose I am the only exception, after numerous experiments met their end due to imprecision. As one of the more recent results, and the only pureblood of the Zentradi to be acted upon, I am honor-bound to serve the cause for reclaiming Protoculture and the space vessel.

I wish it were that simple. One of my many tasks was to infiltrate the human culture aboard the vessel to report possible subjects and figure out their inner workings. Shortly into my excursions, I discovered the humans were much more complex than originally thought. I found myself growing attached to the culture they had managed to form inside that metal hull.

It was easy to forcibly remove several members of the air force into the Zentradi ships at first. However, after several successful missions, I was caught and cornered by one of the humans I had grown attached to.

I sometimes wonder what it would have been like if I hadn't listened to Scar at the time. Always kind hearted, he volunteered to return to the mothership with me, endangering his own safety to see my perspective. Once Commander had concluded his experimental agility enhancements and we returned, he brought me into the networks of a secret force made up of the close friends of the taken. Slowly, we had been liberating those in the clutches of the Zentradi, with Grian, or "Experiment 169," being the final one.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I arrive at the door. The metal hallways of the interior of the ship were nearly impervious to regular blaster fire, something my friends and I had to take into consideration when we rescued the others. Luckily, the destruction of several ships containing captured pilots hadn't been linked back to me. Yet.

I sigh, kicking the base of the door, causing the metal to reverberate. I swear, everyone here is always forgetting my alteration. I should get a laser and cut me-sized holes in the commonly used doors so I can get around without bruising my toes and waiting for someone to open the door for me. Then again, the ship is built the way it is for a reason.