There's Always A Light (AU Story)

[shneiderman]

For Dennis

I'm sorry we never got to have that game of crib.

I hope this will make up for that.





Prologue: Precipitation

They were late. It wasn't like them to be late, they were almost always here by now. Even on the rare occasions that they were tardy, it never stretched past half an hour. She stood in the barren concrete yard in front of her school, underneath the roof's overhang to shield herself from the hammering rain, gripping her undying hope that her two favorite people would appear at any moment. She had a warmth in her stomach like a soothing campfire, as she thought of the terrifying fictions her father recited some nights; they were always best on rainy nights. His stories were absolutely blood-curdling, enough to make her lose sleep some nights, which she figured was why he didn't often tell them during the week. One of her favorites was about several friends reminiscing of an ominous and disturbing luau from their youth, only to discover it may never have existed at all. Despite how intimidating his stories were, there were fewer things more exciting than that sort of fear; the kind she felt with her family. The man himself and his wife should've been here by now, though, and it was this thought that doused the campfire within her like the rain. She was now beginning to wish she had adopted her mother's patience. The young girl was often befuddled when others did things like extend a middle finger at other drivers on the road, but was always comforted by her mother's optimism. "We just need to keep looking ahead," she had said during one such an event. "As long as we can focus on what's right, we can get wherever we want to go,"

They would be here at any moment. They would return to their humble home at the end of the golden beach, prepare some hot chocolate, and take in another delightfully gruesome tale. It was destined; nothing could prevent it. She held onto that truth, knowing in her heart that any doubt was a creation of her own wild brain. Rain was a rarity in this country, though once in the comforting warmth of her own home became a welcome departure from the beautiful and typical sun. She peered through the blindfold of rainfall that stretched on for eternity, hoping to catch a glimpse of her favorite people's approaching vehicle, blue like the tranquil sea that neighbored their home. There was nothing, however, but a small parade of flashing red lights, accompanied by a series of sirens attempting to drown out the sound of the crashing rain. She thought nothing of her findings for a whole minute, and then her eyes widened in a realization more stomach-turning than any description in her father's stories. Though she lacked an umbrella, let alone a proper raincoat, the young girl darted out of the overhang's protection and after the parade of lights. She possessed no particular talent in walking or running, yet they were still actions of enjoyment for her, thus the two blocks she travelled were child's play for her. The true challenge awaited at her destination, where she found the most appalling and unbelievable sight anyone could witness, as the red lights now surrounded a large, metallic mess in the middle of the dampened street. One half of the mess was a sickly, pale green, while the other was blue like the tranquil sea that neighbored her home.

[shneiderman]

Chapter 1:
Birth

I

The soldier darted down the endless hallway as quickly as his booted, two-toed feet would carry him. He could feel the warmth of his panicked breath on his spearhead-shaped face, thanks to the tough, metal helmet that encased it. His gloved palms were sweaty as all six fingers gripped his yellow blaster in terror. He forced his brain to think of reaching the nearest intercom, and report to Captain Gantu to send for backup, and not of the intensity of the violence he had witnessed beforehand. The intercom had barely entered his line of vision from around the corner, next to a large, circular door, when his armored neck was gripped by a furry, yellow antenna splattered with some dark crimson. Though the plates of armor had been upgraded many times of the years to be impervious to such chokeholds, the electricity that delivered his painful death was something the Federation has not yet found a counter to.

"Private Disken, was it?" The 221st of currently 625 monstrous 'Experiments' began, placing a three-toed foot on Disken's idle back, speaking with what he heard as a strong Cockney British accent. He rested an elbow on the same knee, and used a clawed hand to scratch behind his ears, which were like small, yellow plates. "Well, Dis-Ken-t get any worse for you, can it, eh?" His football-shaped head stretched an evilly satisfied smirk, until something from behind called for the attention of his sky blue eyes. It was the sound of his ally's feet slapping the floor again and again. "I nearly thought you weren't coming, 624,"

"I nearly thought you'd run off and done everything yourself," 624 sarcastically retorted. Her dark pink body slowed as she approached 221, scratching the end of her long ear with one of two soggy, red hands, and her two similarly multicolored antennae dangling neatly behind her oval head. She rolled her black eyes when 221 called her a slowpoke. "Hey, cork it, Mister Icanfly." She playfully elbowed him in the side. "Let's just get behind this door and see if everyone else has gotten there yet." She gestured towards the door by the untouched intercom.

"Lucky I got Disken when I did, huh?" 221 began, as he and 624 forced the door open like a sheet of paper with their own brute strength. "Nearly made it to that intercom. You think soon they'll start having their radios communicate to people on ships other than the one they're on, that way people won't end up in poor, old Disken's situation?"

"Disk—oh, that guy!" 624 shook her head in amusement at her own confusion. "Yeah, well, it'd sure be smart on their part, but it'd make it more of a pain in the rear for us, wouldn't it? Having waves upon waves of backup just constantly coming at us." They each chucked away their severed portion of the door. "Not to mention Captain-Needle-In-A-Haystack-Gantu,"
"Honestly, if that giant sod did pop up, we'd at least have a shot at offing him,"
"Touche, 221. 621 would be through the roof,"
"No, no, he'd have Gantu be the one through the roof,"
624 chuckled. "Anyway, ladies first." She bowed flamboyantly.

"…Aren't you one of those?" 221 responded, not amused, as they both entered the short hallway that now lay ahead.
"Oh, you noticed?!"
"Yeah, so why are you insulting me by calling me a 'lady' if you're one?"
"Because…Shut up,"
"So are you calling 149 a lesbian?"
"Hey, what strange little interests you and 149 partake in in private is your own beeswax,"
"Well, she waswith 177 before she was with me, you know?"
"I do now, not that I feel richer for it..." 624 then received a small jolt when 221's head was suddenly graced with the impact of a falling, metal ceiling tile.

"Ooh, sorry, hun!" A southern voice called from above. Another friend, dark green and a head that made her allies' look a little too short and a bit chubby, crawled out from a hatch in the ceiling as though it were on the ground; her feet clung to the ceiling. She then dropped down almost immediately, landing perfectly on her feet, and went to stroke 221's head gently. "You OK? I didn't hit ya too hard, did I?"

"Nah, just a bit of ceiling, nothing major, babe," 221 reassured her. "Could you kiss it better, though? Just to be safe?" He lowered his noggin down to 149, who rolled her dark blue eyes before going over it with her tongue.

"Bullseye, 149!" 624 joked.
"You been teasing my sugarcube, 624?" 149 responded.
"…Maybe a little,"
"Good, might teach the big baby to toughen up, so he doesn't need his 149 to kiss his booboos better!" She grabbed 221 in a headlock, noogeying his furry head.

"Aw, but I thought you liked licking the sugar off your sugarcube," 221 joked, one of his bloodied antennae coiling around 149's ankle like a playful serpent. As the couple wasted time, another, larger Experiment dropped from where 149 had. He was of a lighter shade of green, like an olive, and appeared the size of one if the others were like crumbs. Where his left hand should be, instead there was a metallic, cannon-like device.

"We've disconnected all forms of contact to anything outside this ship. We won't have to worry about anyone using an inter—" 150 landed perfectly on his feet, though when he looked up, he was both confused and annoyed to see what 221 and 149 were doing.

"Uh, kids?" 624 clapped her hands, and the two embracing Experiments looked up, 149 maintaining her headlock, and 221 still with his antennae still hugging 149's foot. "See, we still need to get the, uh, the thingy, in the, uh, the place." She lazily gestured towards the door in front of them. "150, could you?"

"Hm?...Oh! Sure!" 150 had still been distracted by the embracing, though once he was back in reality, his cannon hand split apart to release a set of metallic fingers, wet with some blood, which punched the door out of the wall like a hole-puncher through paper.

"Thank you!" She chirped, shooting her thumb straight into the air, and beaming like the sun at 150, who gave but a shy shimmer of light back. "Alright, let's see if 300 and 621 have made it yet!"

"You know I'm seven years older than you, right?" 149 called back, as she and 221 pulled out the hole in the door.

"Oh, seven's not so grown up!" 624 joked back. She turned to an uncomfortably silent 150. "Hey." 624 gently nudged her pensive ally to get his attention. "You OK, bud?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm just…I'm fine, don't worry,"
"You sure?" Her voice lowered to something of a whisper. "Because based on what you were saying earlier, you don't exactly seem 'fine.'" No response, just the same glum, pensive look. "Why don't you talk to her about it when we get back to base? At least she'll know, and she won't be accidentally making you feel left out,"
"…I could try; I guess…I don't have the way with words that she does. I might just sound like a hopeless romantic,"
"Well, at least try. You really shouldn't let this bubble inside you more than it already has. We all need to stay focused on our goal, I don't want you to get distracted,"
"I know, I just…I just want to find the right words for it, is all,"
"Maybe try saying something like—"
"No, no, I want it to be my words she hears,"
"Oh, yeah, that's OK,"

"There we are!" 221 chirped when the door was completely removed. "Onward, then!" The four Experiments marched confidently to the finale of their mission.

"Don't worry." 624 jumped onto 150's shoulder and ruffled his hair. "You'll get through it. I know you will,"

"Oh, so you two are allowed to muck around, huh?" 149 called back.

"Hey, at least we're not on the verge of creating a mini-Experiment on a Federation ship," 624 retorted.

"SIT BACK DOWN!" The Experiments had grown used to this one's fury. They found one of the darkest shade of green, with white fur on his head a shape similar to a Mohawk, which sat just above a pair of dark, thin antennae, nothing like what 624 and 221 possessed. He had a second pair of arms below his usual one, each one gripping a yellow blaster of some sort, from pistol to rifle. He wore a sort of thick belt on his back, between the three dark, disgusting spikes that protruded from it, which held several other blasters he was not currently using. Experiment 621 forced a standing guard back into his previous kneeling position with the butt of his yellow rifle. He then began slowly pacing across the row of five kneeling guards he had somehow assembled. "Now, you're all going to sit there while I take this thing away from you." He pointed a clawed hand towards the long, red, cannon-like machine in the middle of the room, smoking from its barrel and surrounded by shelves upon shelves of other weapons. "First person who tries anything stupid gets to be target practice. I might even use your new cannon, assuming it can singe through that armor." His threats were heard to the guards as little more than alien gibberish, yet his furious tone was enough for them to understand him. 621 turned away, ready to lift the weapon from the ground, until he saw his four allies. "Oh, good, you're here. I've found the cannon—"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," 221 joked. 621 was unamused.

"I've found the cannon," The angry Experiment continued. "So if you could help me in getting it back to our pod,"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." 149 and the others each wrapped their hands around a portion of the cannon, but before they could lift it, they were interrupted by an uncannily familiar voice, and an even more familiar figure approaching.

"Oh, good, you're all already here," Someone who was the spitting image of 621, aside from being even more bloodied than any of the others and his hands with death grips on his firearms, approached them from behind one of the many shelves. "Good work, 300." He said when he saw the cowering guards.

"I should hope so," The first 621's voice was now one as deep as an abyss. His body now shifted into a huge, dark green blob, with little more features than ominously glowing yellow eyes. "This batch has heard stories about you,"

"Seems like it." One guard stood up to run in the opposite direction, only to have 621 shoot him perfectly in the back. The green Experiment stuck the blaster back in his gunbelt as the guard fell to the floor, and all the others whimpered. "Anyway, I've activated the ship's suicide procedure, but it won't go off for fifteen minutes, so we've plenty of time. We'll be able to get this thing back to the pod, maybe use it to 'burn any tissue', as they describe it, that might turn up, assuming there's any left."

"Oh, yes, you and your gun fetish, 621," 149 muttered, as everyone hoisted the cannon up, though 624 and 221 wound up being the only ones needed to support it. "Had yourself a little run-in, did you?"

"I handled it," Was the grumpy and immediate reply. "As I'm sure you all handled your respective ends,"

"Leave him alone, 149," 624 whispered to her. "Come on, you know he's having a difficult time,"

"Ah, yeah, right," 149 responded in an equally quiet tone. "Sorry,"

"Oy, what's comin' first?" 221 impatiently called. "The Grand Councilwoman and Gantu popping up, or us draggin' our cute little asses out of here?"

"None cuter than yours, lightnin'," 149 joked, making him turn scarlet.

"Patience, 221," 300 scolded gently, as he knew his tone and gaze were already capable of attracting attention from his comrades. "You do recall the last instance when you were too hasty in your duties,"

"Yeah, yeah," The electric Experiment muttered, as he scratched his nose uncomfortably. Almost immediately afterwards, one of the cowering soldiers snatched a random gun off the nearest shelf, and fired at 221's foot. As the Experiment dropped to the floor, his cry of pain harmonizing with the clanging of the dropped end of the cannon, 621 drew his own blaster and shot the foolishly brave guard in the face. After that one fell motionless to the floor, the other three quickly followed suit when 621 decided to give them a similar fate. "PATIENCE, HE SAID!" 221 shouted in agony, gripping his ankle, and his foot coated in a sickly, green wound. "YOU MIGHT HURT YOURSELF, HE SAID!"

"Hey, it ain't 300's fault, buzzy!" 149 quickly knelt by 221, and tried to help him to his one good foot. "I mean, did you really need to have a right foot?!"
"Yes, hardy-har, my little honeypot," Through clenched teeth. When he was vertical again, he held his hands out as they transformed into thin streaks of golden energy, levitating him off of the ground.
"You sure you're OK to fly, 221? I really don't mind carrying you!"
"Nah, thanks, I—NNF!-…I can do it…"
"Alright, well, if you feel like you can't go any longer, just fall and I'll catch you. OK?" She held her arms outwards, even though her ally did not seem likely to fall soon. "C'mon, guys, let's get goin' so 10 can look at 221's foot,"

"That was a plasma gun, wasn't it?" 150 inquired, as he took 221's fallen end of the cannon, with everyone following them towards the exit.

"Yes, it was," 300 answered. "The Federation's still stocking up on them..." He noticed 621's eyes narrowing when he mentioned the event.

II

"Alright, let's get ya to 10, now," 149 said hurriedly when the group had returned to base, shaped from the outside like an enormous, metal basket, nearly the same color as the blackness of space. The combined, bustling voices of their 616 allies created a close echo of gibberish. With 221 in her arms, she carried him quickly down the grim, grey hallway after the small docking bay, ready to turn right to the medical wing. 624 and 150 followed after her, while 621 removed his gunbelt, and 300 approached a miniature screen on the nearest grey wall.

"We have returned, Doctor Jumba," 300 said to the screen, which quickly displayed a plump, indigo image, sporting four eyes across his face. "The ship is ashes, and the weapon that singed 601 is on our pod; 621 and I are about to put it in the armory. Unfortunately, an enemy's plasma weapon got 221's foot. He is being taken to 10 right now, so at least we can expect him back with us before long,"

"Excellent work, 300!" Jumba replied enthusiastically, speaking with a thick Russian accent. "Oh, and make sure 221 knows I told him 'get well soon.' Yes, let's hope 10 can have him back on that foot before too long. He is our best medic, after all,"
"He's our only medic, sir,"
"Yes, well, he's such a great one, why stress him with another,"
"Because there's no need for divided work just yet, sir,"
"Anyway, anyway, your latest assignment only further displays the Federation's taking advantage of their newfound knowledge of your plasma vulnerability. Since the incident, it seems we're getting more and more injuries every other mission, and it's becoming increasingly inconvenient,"

"Increasingly..." 621 muttered coldly and near silently, his back to Jumba and his body focused on punching in an unlock code to the armory.

"Indeed." 300 heard his ally like an owl, though he said nothing, as he knew too well it was more than justified. "Please forgive my inquiry, sir, but what are the chances of the 626th or later of us having immunity to plasma?"

"Actually, I'm quite glad you did 'inquire' that, 300!" Jumba was suddenly ecstatic again. "Very next one who comes down to your end, shooting plasma at him will be like drowning a Silurian,"
"Well…" 300 gave a smile to some good news. "Much more useful than 625, then. Perhaps that taxing assignment on Welker Industries will prove worthwhile. When might Number 626 be sent over here?"
"Oh, soon, curious little one." Jumba leaned shortly and awkwardly to his left as he spoke. Though 300 retained his warm smile, the disguised intensity of his eyes noticed the quadruple-eyed face turn a small shade whiter. "Should help to prevent losses like 501 and 502,"
"Yes, I would—"

"Or you could've just not killed them!" 621 sternly called back before storming into the unlocked armory.

"Hm, 621's still pulling through it," Jumba said softly. He found 300's gaze had returned to him, now frigid, though his body seemed as calm as a lake. "It was a precaution, so if something happened like what eventually did, they could at least have a final victory over the Federation for you!"
"I know why you programmed them that way," 300 began, his tone like a whip, cracked for attention as opposed to harm. "621 doesn't agree with it, and that's to be expected, especially considering how that 'final victory' could only come close to killing Captain Gantu,"
"Yes, yes, of course…" Jumba was pensive with a porky hand on his chin for a moment. "Speaking of which, I'd best return to work, now. Keep an eye on 621, if you could,"
"Two eyes." 300 was low and soft. "It's the least I can do for him." He glanced down the ajar armory door, which displayed a sight of 621's back, and his Mohawk-shaped head fur hiding behind his neck.

III

"10, ya got a sec?!" 149 called hurriedly into the medical ward after she'd bolted past it's door.

"OH! Crud!" A voice only so squeaky on certain occasions jolted in response. "I'll be right back, 258!" A bright green figure with a trunk for a nose came darting down the lengthy strip of egg-like beds, only three of which were inhabited "What's wrong, 149?!"

"My foot ticked off the wrong guy," 221 cracked through clenched teeth, sweating despite his brief moment of wit.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I see!" 10's clawed fingers seemed to be caught in a melee close to his stomach. "Can you climb onto this one, over here?"

"Sure, sure, let me just..." 221 attempted to mount the closest bed by himself, though 149 seemed to have to help him with lower body once his rear was in place.

"Right, now, 149, think you could go to the front and get me the blue cylinder on the shelf?" 10 requested, as he inspected 221's wound, his fuzzy hands hovering over it like vigilant doves.

"Blue cylinder, got it!" 149 almost immediately darted for the shelf in question, positioned just by the door where they came in, and supporting a dark rainbow of metal, cylindrical containers. Just as she picked up the blue one, 624 and 150 darted into the room.

"He alright?!" The olive Experiment blurted.

"Y-J-Just hold on a second!" 10 stammered as 149 handed him the cylinder. He unscrewed it quickly and let a small amount of the similarly colored, creamy contents pour onto the remaining plasma. Like water down a drain, the boiling projectile began to dissolve at a reasonable rate. 10 gently rubbed the medicine in with a soft finger. "Right, you can talk to him if you want, while I get some bandages," He offered his temporary assistant as he scooted past her.

"That gloppy stuff workin'?" She asked softly, stepping next to 221 and scratching gently behind his dish-like ear.
"Yeah, I'm feeling some improvement...You weren't worried, were ya, babe?"
"Nah, I wasn't worried." She saw that 221 was faking a hurt expression. "Oh, quit bein' such a baby!" She playfully ruffled up the fur on his head.
"Ah, I can't help it, 149! Can ya really blame me?" His antennae curled around 149's waist.
"Well, at the very least, you're my big baby," She purred as she leaned in for a hug, her nose meeting his.
"Ow, ow!"

"Sorry, sorry!" 10 stammered, looking up from his bandaging of 221's foot, which he had rested on a short, metal block with a pit for the Experiment's heel. "I just need you to hold still for a moment,"

"Yeah, your guys' sexy time is getting in the way of 10's work," 624 added.

"Aw, put a cork in it, 624!" 149's friendly smile and tone showed that there was no offence taken or intended. "Ya can't really say you don't expect us to do all this mushy stuff, can ya? You might find a new Experiment coming down one day, and you'll wind up muckin' around with him,"

"Well, after our last new arrival, I'd take anything," 624 muttered. Not long after, the door was flung open once more, surprising 10 enough to send a thin, crimson streak flying out of the end of his trunk. "Oh, speak of the devil,"

"WOAH, 10! Save the lasers for surgery, eh?!" In marched a brown-ish yellow creature, with ears like a dog's, teeth like a dull walrus', and a gut like a balloon ready to burst. "Hey, get me a sandwich goin', will ya?!" He spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

"I-In a bit, 625!" 10 called back, nearly finished his work.

"Oh, c'mon, it'll only be a minute!" The plump Experiment persisted, before noticing 10's task-at-hand. "How'd you manage this, 221?"

"Uh, plasma..." The golden Experiment tried to hide his annoyance. "Whatcha want, 625?"

"I said; a sandwich, soon as 10 stops taking his own sweet time on your busted feet," 625 slapped a hand on 10's shoulder, earning a meek and high-pitched reaction.

"I'm sure your black hole-gut can wait for 221's 'busted feet,'" 149 sharply retorted.

"Oh, I don't know..." 625 seemed to be turning an unsettling crimson color. "C'mon, 10, finish up!"

"I-I'm nearly done, 625!"

"No, no, take your time, 10!" 624 called. Everyone now found her standing further down the row, as though she'd snuck away guilefully. Her antennae now seemed more concealed behind her. "You've got much more important things to do, don't ya?"

"You're, uh, you're bein' pretty smart over there, hotstuff," The porky Experiment's attention turned ominously towards 624.
"Being smart's good, though," 624 responded. being smart means you can think, and if you can think, you can think about how to respect your comrades and future co-governors,"
"Well, it'd be easier for me if my 'comrades' and 'co-governors' were a little nicer." 625 approached her now, his feet hitting the floor like heavy sacks of flour.
"And, maybe, just a teensy-tiny possibility..." 624 created such a size between her crimson and wet index finger and thumb. "That's 'cause you haven't put much effort into earning it,"
"Ah, I can start anytime!" His arms now wrapped uncomfortably low around 624's body. "No big deal,"
"Well, just a heads-up, I'd start right now if I were you." 624's annoyance was well-hidden underneath a peaceful mask.
"Oh? And what happens if I don't?" His bright, mud-colored hands tightened. Mere seconds later, 625 was tardy in registering a hidden third arm, prepared to chop at his collarbone. At the very least, without the chop's help, he was still able to stumble back, tumble over an empty bed, and hit his head on the hard, metal floor. 625's view could not display it, but 624 was giving an amused smirk, as the new arm returned back inside of her waist. "Alright, I've just about had it with you!"

"So have I!" 150 picked up 625 by a large tuft of brown fur on his back, letting him dangle like a furious, thrashing plastic bag. "You're getting a time-out, Mister Personal Bubble,"

"Put me down, you overweight trog! Don't make me report to Dr. Jumba!" 625 complained and threatened, thrashing his arms about, even bringing out two hidden arms of his own. He objected up until he was plopped outside the door, which was promptly slammed shut after him.

"Who's he calling 'overweight?'" The towering Experiment muttered, marching back to 221's bedside.

"Good on ya, bud." 221 held his thumb into the air.

"That's my boy!" 149 nudged her partner playfully on the arm. "See? You're not such a big softie after all!"

"Yep, I don't know why I ever said that," 150 muttered, turning red as 149 leaped on his shoulder to ruffle his feathery head fur.

"Hey, 150?" 624 called warmly. 150 looked down to find her offering him a ham sandwich, stacked neatly on its plate, as though designed for display instead of for eating. "I made this for you for fun and for something else, but now you could say it's for that just now,"

"Oh...Thanks, 624." 150 accepted the snack, unwilling to reference one of the initial reasons around 149.

"No problem, bud," The pair of pink antennae hovered over her head, balancing two more equally presentable sandwiches. "Just made a couple for you guys while the gentleman wasn't looking." She took the two plates in her hands, and then handed one to 221. "For our patient, who always works his hardest..." The next one was handed to 10. "And for our best medic,"
"But I'm your only medic," 10 replied, after using his trunk to create another hot streak to cut the cast free from its roll.
"Ah, well, even if we did have more, you'd still be the best." She playfully ruffled the circular fins on 10's head.

"Alright, whose funtime are ya after?" 149 wisecracked, making 221 chuckle, 10 turn bright red, and 150 turn his head, but nothing from 624.

"Nobody's," The pink Experiment was calm; her warm expression was hardly moved by the crude remark. "625 barged in demanding a sandwich, and I got the idea to make some for the other three guys that actually deserved it, just for shits and giggles, you know? And Earth ones, 'cause I know you guys like those ones,"

"And they're the only good ones," 221 added.

"True, true..." 624 muttered. "Ever tried an Irken sandwich?" 624 held her nose between two bloody fingers.

"Aw, well that's sweet of you," 149 replied to her earlier statement. "None for me, though?"
"You told me you try to keep skinny, though," Was the sincere response. "You said it makes you all light and stealthy,"
"Ya couldn't offer me something, at least?"
"Alright; would you like something to eat, 149?"
"...Nah, thanks...I don't wanna have more than I oughta,"
"...And you say I'm cheeky,"

"I've gotta say, you two are superb at entertaining the bed-ridden," 221 cracked through a mouthful.

"Well, least we can do for the slacker getting some time off," 149 cheerfully joked back, taking a bite out of the back end of 221's sandwich, at the same time as he took another.

"Oh, for Pete's sake..." 624 muttered, rolling her eyes, but smiling nonetheless. "Bunch of kids, eh, 150?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," 150 chuckled, trying his best to play along. "They keep on going, you might have to use your hypno-song thingy just to keep them still around the rest of us,"

"...Ooooooooooooor I could not..." 624 replied, friendly yet stern at once.
"Oh, sorry,"
"It's OK, bud." 624 playfully nudged him with her shoulder.
"No harm done, right?" 150 only smiled in response.
"...C'mon, eat up." She gently tapped his belly twice, whereupon his massive jaw took away half of the sandwich. 624 turned to 10, and found him nibbling softly away at his sandwich like a rabbit. "How is it, 10?"

"Oh...It's delicious, thank you," 10 seemed as though he'd been yanked from some unsettling land just above his head.
"Something on your mind?"
"...It's, um..." 10 found his friend leaning in, allowing him to continue at a comfortably decreased volume. "...625 was touching you again,"
624 sighed softly before continuing. "Yeah, he was,"
"I hate when he does that to you; he knows you don't like it. He hardly ever does it to anyone else, just to you. Why does he do such...Insensitive things to you?"
"He's just the kind of person who wants a lot, but doesn't want to work for it. He just thinks he should get it right away, and he gets all cranky when nobody gives it to him,"
"Hm...Our Uprising isn't like that, is it?"
"No, no, of course not. The Federation are a bunch of selfish trogs, and we're working each day to stamp them out, so we can make it the way it should be.
"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense,"
"...Right, well, 150 and I should wash up." 624 stood up, gesturing to 150, asking if he was going to stay. After wiping crumbs from his chin, 150 responded by moving up with her. "Oh, and 10?" She turned back, a hand playfully rustling the appendages on his head.. "You're not just our best medic, you're also a great friend." With that, she left a reddening 10 and headed with 150 to the exit. "Get well soon, 221!"

"Thanks!" The bed-ridden Experiment called. "Try not to miss me too much!"

"Oh, it'll be hard; you're the most fun to tease." Then the door was shut, and the three Experiments were left to themselves.

"...Right!" 10 stood up straight and clapped his clawed hands together. "You'll just stay here for a while, 221, and I'll clean the blood off of you and check on your foot regularly to see how it's doing,"

"Oh, really?" 221 cheekily began. "I thought you'd just be checking on it for your own reasons." He received a chuckle from 149 and a shy smirk from 10.

Cheeky remarks, flirty quips, and kind reassurance was passed amongst the three Experiments. The focus of their conversation prevented them from noticing an unfamiliar figure passing down the column. His body was much like that belonging to 621 and 624; he even had the pair of small antennae and three back spikes of the former. His fur was the same blue as the planet Earth's dark ocean. His tall ears flowed past the top of his head's back, and notched near their ends.

"Hey..." The creature said when he had finally reached his three predecessors. They were all silenced, and turned to the new arrival. They had heard the voice of a boy, though they knew it would quickly become the voice of a man. "I'm the newest one..." The creature continued, less timid than 10 but more so than 150. "I'm number 626..."