Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

White was a color you had come to associate with tedium and monotony. That’s how you have always felt and what you have consistently seen around you: glass, white walls, and the pristine lab coats worn by the researchers. This was your job, your sole purpose in life. You have always been a lab rat. The lab rat, lost in a sea of clinicalness.  This was your reality, a dull cycle of sameness, where every day felt like the last.

For the past twenty-six years, your life had been reduced to a series of experiments designed to prove the depths of human understanding. Since the day you were born, you've adapted to your reality. You learned early on how to avert your gaze when the needle pierced your skin, trying to avoid the rising discomfort you felt every time it happened, and how to respond to the routine questions the researchers ask you after each new experiment. 

You've always been compliant. Compliance had been drilled into your brain by both the researchers and the expectations of your father. The best lab rat was always ready to get a new shot of whatever crap they wanted to shoot into your veins, ready to endure questionnaires through side effects, and test your body. You were eager to help with the research, bearing your last name like a trophy and behaving so as not to disappoint your father. You felt deeply satisfied helping your father with his various projects; you felt like your bond was deepening with each shot you took without complaining. Yet, he never shared the specifics of his work, leaving your mind to wonder if you were the key to saving the world or the possible cause of destruction. As time passed, the side effects of his mysterious research, both temporary and non, stirred an unsettling feeling in your chest. As each day passed, your uneasiness intensified, causing your connection to weaken until you withdrew into yourself, questioning the father you once knew and trusted deeply. 

And so you began refusing treatment. You turned down every experiment to the point where your father had to hold you down himself, which somehow made the researchers tremble, their nerves spiking for who knows what reason. It was dehumanizing to be held hostage by your own father. The relationship between you had soured to the point where he no longer looked you in the eye. In truth, you stopped meeting his gaze first. The only times you interacted were when he restrained you during the experiments, hissing curses and lecturing you about duty. 

«Behave, child,» He would say this every time to you, leaning closer to your face. His sunglasses, always resting on the bridge of his nose, concealed his eyes, but you felt his gaze on your skin like a burning laser.

Knowing you had the same eyes made your skin crawl with unease, filling you with a deep loathing for the very day of your birth. Those unsettling red irises, inherited from your lineage, felt like a curse rather than a gift. Every time you looked into a mirror, all you could think was how desperately you wished that this particular trait was the only one you hadn't inherited from him, the man whose shadow loomed over you, like a boulder ready to drop and crush you. 

After years of blindly trusting your life as a lab rat, confined in a sterile laboratory, the seeds of rebellion sprouted in your chest. Each thought of freedom felt intoxicating, flooding your mouth with a taste as sweet as honey, while a heavy weight settled in your chest, the perfect blend of exhilaration and dread. Every time you tried to sleep, images of the vibrant outside world danced behind your closed eyes. These scenes, visible only in faded photographs, seemed to call your name in a gentle whisper reminiscent of Succubi. The thought of experiencing real life, away from laboratories and far from your father, was tantalizingly close yet still so far away.

The plan turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated: the labs were packed with an imposing level of security, each corner decorated with surveillance cameras that loomed silently over your head. Their unblinking lenses observed every movement of everyone who dared to walk in their presence. You waited, patient and silent, studying the surroundings and treasuring anything the lab workers say thinking they were out of earshot. 

You were about to lose all hope until a conversation between two security personnel caught your attention. You overheard one of them recounting how they saw a suspicious man lingering on the outskirts of the city. His words sparked hope in your chest again, making your ears perk up in curiosity. 

«...he was seen on the outskirts, he's not one of us for sure.»

«And? Did you kill him?» 

«No, the boss told me not to. I probably should have, but he's too damn intimidating.»

That was all you needed to know. No one ventures in this city without being either completely mad or trained to do it. The window to your freedom has been opened by a gust of strong wind, and you just heard it come off the hinges. It was only a matter of time before a group of guards was sent to check on the curious man, and you knew you had to take the risk. You glanced at your bed, as if you could see through the mattress and spot the keycard hidden underneath it. You stole it months prior, and no one ever questioned you, thinking you were too weak to actually try to escape, but in reality, your plan was coming along. This mysterious man, curious or dumb enough to venture into Raccoon City, would be the perfect cover-up for your escape. 

One last glance at your room, one last goodbye before you never see it again. Exciting and dreading. 

The intercom crackled before yoir father's commanding voice boomed, filling the air. «Security, this is code 15-1. This is not a drill. Investigate immediately.»

Your heart pounded at his words, the gravity in his words stirring multiple emotions within you. Even more at how excited you were at the realization that the moment you had dreamed about and planned was finally coming. The thought was making you feel determined, but your stomach flipped at the thought of getting caught. There was a struggle within you, torn between your desire for freedom and your fear of the consequences. Still, you decided to act. There was no time to ponder now, and you had many years to think this through. 

You watched as dozens of guards scrambled outside, leaving the labs empty except for the cameras. Luckily, you had memorized every blind spot along the route to the exit. You waited for a handful of minutes, fidgeting with the keycard between your fingers, taking deep breaths, and repeating encouraging words to yourself under your breath. 

As you gently pressed the keycard against the pad, the door emitted a soft, reassuring click. A rush of anticipation surged through you, making your heart race in response to the moment's excitement. You looked around before stepping out and inhaling deeply. Outside of your room, the air felt immediately different. You moved cautiously through the corridors, glancing up every few seconds to check the cameras, quickly jumping from one blind spot to another. A sudden noise of gunshots startled you, nearly causing you to drop the makeshift knife you held in your hands right next your keycard. The intercom crackled again, and a shaky feminine voice alerted everyone that the infected had breached their containment and escaped from their pods.

You lunged yourself forward, rushing through the stark, white corridors, each step echoing against the sterile tiles on the ground, running as if your life depended on it. And it did, actually. You glanced over your shoulder repeatedly, heart pounding in your chest, sweat beading on your forhead, driven by an overwhelming fear of getting caught that clawed at your heart, urging you to move faster. Your vision was filled by a blur of white: walls, floors, even the ceiling, merged into one oppressive color that was meant to be calming, but in that moment, it was anything but. 

You ran and ran until your lungs ached. As you spotted the exit door, you decided to slow down to a jog. The outside world awaited you just beyond that door, and you had dreamed of this moment for so long. It felt like your birthday, but a billion times better. You found yourself wondering what the first image to greet your eyes would be. Maybe vibrant colored flowers, you thought. However, as you pressed the keycard against the pad, the heavy doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing pure destruction to your eyes. Before you lay a desolate wasteland of grey devoted to life. What lies before you is the aftermath of a war you weren't aware of: abandoned cars on the sides of the road, collapsed ruins of what could've been apartment buildings, patches of what had to be grass spots now grey and dead. The scenery felt humbling to your heart, even disheartening. 

You froze at that sight, feeling your shoulders slump forward. No, you thought, it can't be. 

What was in front of you was a pure disappointment, utterly failing to meet your hopes. As you surveyed the scene, a sense of dread washed over you. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself blaming your father for the scenery, wondering if he had purposefully chosen this place for his operation base. Deep down, that little girl who loved her father conflicted with your adult self, defending him at all costs. After all, why would he intentionally want this to happen? Perhaps it was just a coincidence that your home fell into such desolation.

You stepped outside the door, finally hearing it hiss as it closed behind you. You spun around, scanning your surroundings and squinting your eyes to study each little detail you could notice. As you inhaled, the smell of plain dust filled your nose, carrying a hint of something else you couldn't quite name yet. It was strange, it was scary. For the first time, you were truly alone. Even if this choice was yours, the solitude felt deep as you prepared to explore a world extremely different from the one you've seen in photographs.