#Lab rats & drones

[heyitschartic]

I would have really loved to see what would happen if String Theory had survived Gold Morning. What do the Wardens even do with her running around except appeasement? There are a lot of countries getting close to war with Gimel, and she is essentially a nuclear detterant all on her own. No one wants to kick the country with a woman who can boil your seas. Permanently moaning, complaining, and insulting Dragon, except this time, she can't just ignore her since they're working together. More importantly, the second she got out of lockup, she'd go hunting down what happened with the egg Lab Rat had, and I'm sure she'd manage to find Chris.

Cannot imagine how horrible she would be as a bitchy aunt, there to permanently rub it in Lab Rat's face that she survived and all he has left is this teenage sorta-clone. They would absolutely despise each other. Would be a much more interesting conversation when Vicky goes to investigate his living situation though.

[011sfootstool]

lab rats & drones chapter one

[triocat]

Night wings!

(This is what DD are called in this AU)

Current day

They are named after how they commonly kill their prey

In the past

Bonus CYN!

[sugardronezz]

A few whiboar doodles as I’m try to figure out her loreeeeee

[lab-trash]

So this is in my junior cosmetology classroom

And I have no idea what it is, but it reminds me of the LEMP.

[hemipenal-system]

cyberpunk doesn’t have enough alterhumans in it in my experience. they gotta get on that. swap some brains around into other bodies or use a wireless connection to control another body like a puppet or something

you go to buy guns and the street rat arms dealer you’re meeting with is… a german shepherd. hmm. interesting. well, her brain is human, and her body is a synthetic lab-grown one she got put into, complete with titanium teeth. except for some minor computer interfacing electrodes, she looks just like the real thing. it’s freaky.

that rat perched on your contact’s shoulder is the real contact. she just hired someone to work as a decoy because she’s in danger - and when the decoy gets sniped from a tower across the street, she scurries off into a sewer, completely unharmed.

birds aren’t government drones. don’t be ridiculous. birds are government spies.

your target for this hit isn’t even an animal. she just got more arms for the fun of it. she wanted to look like this and this way she can use 6 knives at once

the underground fight club you go to ramps up the drama by putting fighters into weaponized biomechanical bodies grown in-house. you’re watching a grizzly bear with steel wool fur rip apart a massive bipedal bull with saws for horns. unregulated combat sports are fuckin wild in this district

[kalpeavaris]

oh whats that? Murder Drones Dragon!AU? Yeah?? Anyways I had a little blackout today and uh... doodles this... here you go. I even have a lil concept for it, teehee. Maybe I'll do more with it besides these doodles.

Anyways, lore drop time!!

In this AU, Dragons are a mammal-based species living on Copper-9, a habital planet similar to Earth (think Proxima Centauri b but Copper-9), where the humans had set up camp in the 3050s to study the species of dragons, which they had done for a long time. Due to the dragons high level of intelligence (on par with that of humans and exceeding it) as well as their similarities in DNA and being both mammals despite the dragons lizard-esque appearance.

Now, in this AU there's no Solver (not as virus, seperate entity or smth like that) but instead there's just Cyn. Cyn is the result of splicing human & dragon DNA, creating the first successful hybrid of both species. The experimentation around hybrids was kickstarted by James Elliott after losing his daughter Tessa in her 20s to cancer, wanting some way to revive his daughter or potentially even clone her with DNA that might help her live longer and healthier (since clones usually also experience a similar fate to their donor). Cyn was the result after many failed attempts and embryos that died off or were barely alive for a few hours/days, and combined a good appearance of the dragon donor and Tessa.

She is however, like other clones, her own being - but being treated as both a "replacement Tessa/daughter" to the Elliott family as well as being constantly used as a 'lab rat' has droven her really bitter. And who can blame her :')) Her body and mind both aged way faster than the usual human, attributed to both her dragon DNA and that of Tessa having been extracted in her early 20s. She's witty, sharp-tongued and prone to violence, which has brought the labratory responsible for testing at edge with Cyn being there.

You see, dragons in this AU all have a pre-destined element they can control to some extend, and they grow into learning how to control this power. Some can breathe it, some can use it similar to how element bending in Avatar worked, some can alter the state of said element through touch or even telepathy. Cyn can control every element to a molecular level, though the 'downside' is that she has to physically touch it for the time being and cannot use telepathy, which doesn't lower the incredibly level of a threat she's posing to basically anyone in her vicinity.

Killing off every human lab worker in 3054, she essentially takes over the lab and becomes her own entity, which is the "Absolute Solver" in this AU. Since Cyn's DNA was also used to inject "willing" test subjects like other dragons and humans, her abilities were spread, which includes Nori - who later passed on these genes and abilities to Uzi. Yeah, Cyn and Uzi are basically somewhat related in this AU. She's her grandmother... to some extend?? I guess?? PART TIME MOTHER???

N, V and J already exist in this AU and they're all workers for the Elliott family, similar to the OG. J is their secretary and was in a secretive relationship with Tessa, which makes the whole ordeal of Tessa passing & a clone being created (which is on the look out to kill people for revenge, whoops) a very emotional affair for her - and she has grown incredibly bitter over this. N & V are her younger siblings, and with N being pretty much the goody two shoes and V prone to spontaneous arson, trouble is pre-programmed.

N & V are both responsible for seeking out so called "wild dragons" (dragons that refused to integrate themselves into human society and argue that their sapient status means they shouldn't be working in such degrading manners, which slay, fuck capitalism and colonization) - and on one of their hunts in 3071 they meet Uzi, the daughter of one of the largest dragons ever known to both socities... and after initially being afraid of her they quickly learn she's quite... well... she's coming after her dad. Uzi however keeps them at bay, and intruiges both N and V with her demeanor, who agree to not harm anyone if Uzi in response shows them "her way of living".

It's not all fleshed out but it's coming!!

some tidbits I'm just gonna toss here:

-> Uzi's thumbs were amputated as a hatchling since descendants of Cyn's DNA were all born with 4 fingers & 1 thumb, while other dragons usually only have 4 fingers. To hide that Uzi's one of Cyn's descendants, Khan and Nori decided it'd be best.

-> N, V and J were labgrown dragons created in the 3050s, which the humans used to create in order to integrate them into human society easier... and exploit them as low-wage workers.

[pomegranatelifethis]

A Slice of Chaos

The Hall of Justice loomed like a futuristic fortress, all sleek metal and glowing holograms. You, however, were sprawled across a plush couch in the lounge, a bag of Doritos propped on your stomach, crumbs dusting your hoodie. At sixteen, you were the Justice League’s resident wildcard—a high school sophomore with powers you barely understood and a work ethic that could generously be described as “nonexistent.”

“Shouldn’t you be in the training room?” Diana’s voice cut through the crunch of your snack. Wonder Woman stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her lasso glinting at her hip. She was all regal poise, the kind of woman who could probably bench press a tank and still look flawless.

You grinned, popping another chip in your mouth. “Training’s overrated, Di. Besides, I’m strategizing.” You gestured vaguely at the empty soda can on the coffee table. “Hydration plan, see?”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Love you too!” you called as she shook her head and walked off. You were pretty sure Diana had a soft spot for you, even if you drove her up the wall. Most of the League did. It was your charm—cute, sweet, and just naughty enough to keep things interesting.

The lounge was your sanctuary, a place to dodge Batman’s endless drills or Superman’s earnest pep talks. You were a meta, discovered a year ago when you accidentally levitated your entire math class during a particularly boring lecture. The League scooped you up, promising to train you to control your telekinesis. Problem was, training was *hard*, and you’d rather be napping or raiding the League’s industrial-sized fridge.

A shadow fell over you. “Y/N.” Batman’s gravelly voice was unmistakable, like someone gargling asphalt. You didn’t even look up, just waved a Dorito in his general direction.

“Hey, Bats. Want one? Cool Ranch, your fave.”

He didn’t take the bait. He never did. “You skipped combat training. Again.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes. “I was gonna go, I swear, but then I remembered I had this super important… uh, snack inventory to do.”

His cowl didn’t budge, but you could *feel* the exasperation radiating off him. “Your powers are raw. Uncontrolled. You’re a liability until you master them.”

“Liability’s a strong word,” you said, licking cheese dust off your fingers. “I prefer ‘chaotic asset.’ Sounds cooler.”

“Get to the training room. Now.”

You groaned, flopping back dramatically. “Fiiiine. But if I pull a muscle, I’m blaming you.”

💢💢

The training room was a high-tech nightmare—holographic drones, shifting obstacle courses, and enough sensors to make you feel like a lab rat. Flash was there, zipping around like a caffeinated hummingbird, while Green Lantern floated above, smirking as he conjured a glowing green punching bag.

“Look who decided to show up!” Barry called, skidding to a stop beside you. His red suit practically vibrated with energy. “Thought you were gonna ditch again.”

“Blame Bats,” you muttered, tying your messy ponytail tighter. “He’s got a sixth sense for my laziness.”

Hal landed, dismissing his construct. “Kid, you’re gonna give Bruce an aneurysm one day. And I’m gonna laugh.”

You stuck out your tongue. “Rude. I’m a delight.”

The session was brutal. You were supposed to levitate a series of weighted spheres while dodging drones, but your focus was shot. One sphere wobbled, then crashed into a wall, setting off a blaring alarm. You winced, shooting Barry a sheepish grin as he zipped over.

“Maybe try *not* breaking the equipment?” he teased, ruffling your hair.

“I’m a work in progress!” you shot back, but you couldn’t help laughing. Barry was like the cool older brother you never had, always quick with a joke or a snack run.

After an hour, you were sweaty, grumpy, and ready to bolt. “This is child abuse,” you declared, collapsing onto a bench. “I’m reporting you all to… someone.”

Clark appeared, all earnest blue eyes and farm-boy charm. “You did better than last time,” he said, handing you a water bottle. “You just need to focus.”

You took the bottle, eyeing him suspiciously. “Are you *always* this wholesome? It’s unnatural.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “Eat something substantial after this, okay? I saw you with those chips earlier.”

“Snitch,” you muttered, but your stomach growled, betraying you. Food was your love language. Pizza, tacos, ice cream—you didn’t discriminate. The League’s kitchen was your personal heaven, especially since Alfred occasionally dropped off trays of his legendary cookies.

💢💢

Later, you were back in the lounge, this time with a plate of leftover lasagna you’d sweet-talked Cyborg into reheating. Victor was a softie under all that tech, and you knew exactly how to work your charm.

“You’re gonna eat us out of house and home,” he said, but there was no heat in it. He was tinkering with some gadget, his cybernetic eye glowing faintly.

“Worth it,” you mumbled through a mouthful. “This is, like, Michelin-star level.”

A blur of motion, and Barry was beside you, snagging a forkful of your lasagna. “Yo, this is good! Vic, you holding out on me?”

“Get your own!” you swatted at him, but you were laughing. Moments like this—goofing off with the League, no world-ending crises—made the whole “hero-in-training” thing bearable.

Until the alarm blared.

“Unknown energy signature detected in Metropolis,” J’onn’s calm voice echoed over the intercom. “All available members, report to the briefing room.”

You groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “Can’t the bad guys take a day off?”

Diana appeared, already in mission mode. “Y/N, you’re with us. Observation only.”

You perked up. A mission? No training, just watching the League be badass? “Sweet! I’m in.”

Batman’s glare said he didn’t agree, but you were already bouncing after Diana, lasagna forgotten. Sure, you were lazy, maybe a little too fond of snacks, but you were part of this team—chaos and all. And who knew? Maybe you’d accidentally save the day.

Or at least snag some post-mission tacos.

The briefing room buzzed with tension, but you were already daydreaming about the food truck you’d hit up later. Whatever this mission was, you’d survive it. You always did—with a smile, a quip, and a bag of chips in hand.

[seat-safety-switch]

Although the Pizza Hut brand still occupies parts of this world, it no longer stands for what it once did. You'll be hard-pressed to locate a sundae bar, glittery sticker dispenser, or red cups made of translucent acrylic – of which I can assure you were once "bottomless." The only thing left are the disaffected, stoned teenagers taking the orders. That, and the Personal Pan Pizza: more than any other, a symbol of North American culture.

In Italy, where hard-working chefs stole the idea for the pizza from visiting space aliens, they decided that a pizza should be shared. Sure, they are often capable of being eaten solo, and the owner of the restaurant would be extremely pleased if each member of your party slammed their own pizza down before ordering a flotilla of liquor, but the way they are enjoyed best is to give a couple slices to your friend. This means you have to compromise on toppings, of course, which is a concept alien to those of us raised on lifted Powerstrokes and fuzzy VHS tapes of air show disasters.

Not so with the Personal Pan Pizza – you get what you want, and to Hell with everyone else in the dining establishment. As well, Pizza Hut gets to charge a little extra margin on each pizza, their shareholders laughing all the way to the bank. You're happy, they're happy. Maybe the guy (your stepdad?) paying the bill at the end of the night isn't happy, but he can get a Personal of his very own.

Nowadays, this humble concept of individuality is becoming abandoned in favour of collectivism. No, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those radical psychopaths who films TikTok videos about overthrowing the government from the front seat of his pickup truck. Pretty sure all those dudes got blown up by drones a couple weeks ago, and replaced by exact body duplicates grown in a lab. What I care about is being able to get a good paint colour on a new car.

Nowadays, everyone worries about resale value. Back then, nobody freaked out about choosing the optimal toppings to keep their lease payments low on their pizza; that would have been an insane thing to say. The pizza was for their enjoyment, and it was meant to be used up. Maybe the crusts got left behind and stolen by a rat. That rat is me. What I'm trying to say is: please order your new hybrid Lexus in bright green, so that I can drive it in thirty years. Don't be so selfish.

[zyart-jpg]

“404: Not Just a Gremlin”

Pairing: Wooin Yoo x Reader

Summary: He thought you were just a dude that supplies him drugs.

Tags: Genderbender, Suggestive, Drugs mentioned, Clubbing, Alcohol usage, Reader is a storefront runner, COMEDY I SWEAR I TRIED

A/N: im unemployed, yall!!!!!!!!! finally have freedom ;D

It wasn’t clean work, never claimed it was.

But it paid well—and you were damn good at it.

You weren’t out pushing pills or mixing chemicals in some underground lab. You were behind the screen. Rerouting transactions, scrubbing trails, keeping the network alive. Fake storefronts, crypto wallets, ghost accounts—you knew the supply, the runners, the paths.

Call it what you want. You called it business.

Tucked behind flickering monitors in your busted old PC bang, you ran a quiet little empire. To outsiders, it was just a gaming café—cheap rates, sticky keyboards, and the constant drone of teens yelling over gunfire and lag.

But to those in the know? It was the pickup point. Dealers came in, grabbed their box, left. No names, no faces. Easy.

You? Just the owner. Quiet, forgettable. Exactly how you liked it.

Well—almost.

“Heya~”

There it was—the downside.

“How’s my favorite manager doing, huh?”

You didn’t even look up. Hoodie low, fingers typing. Just sighed loud enough for the dramatics to hear.

The duo was already leaning over the counter like they paid rent. The shorter one—trademark smug grin, lollipop in mouth—popped it out just to talk more shit.

“Still giving me the cold shoulder? You’re breaking my heart, manager,” Wooin whined like a brat who didn’t get his candy.

You stood, grabbed the box from the back shelf, dropped it on the counter without a word.

Wooin Yoo: Club rat. Dealer. Professional pain in your ass. Somehow turned pestering you into a nightly routine.

He picked up the box with a grin. “Thanks, bro. You’re the real MVP.”

“Shut your ass up and scram,” you muttered, sliding back into your chair.

“Cold as ever.” He clicked his tongue. “Seriously, what do you even do in here all day? Jerk off to code?”

You didn’t look up. “Yeah. And you just ruined the climax. Thanks.”

He laughed, slapping the counter. “You’re such a freak. I like that about you.”

“Overdose already,” you mumbled.

“See? This is why we vibe,” he said, tapping the lollipop against your monitor. “Mysterious, hostile, probably sleep-deprived—you’re just my type, bro.”

You finally glanced up, just enough for your eyes to meet his.

Flat. Bored. Unbothered.

“Flirting’s not gonna get you a discount.”

Wooin grinned. “Didn’t say it was. Just sayin’—if I swung that way...”

You raised a brow. “If?”

He blinked. “Wait, are you flirting back now?”

You leaned in slightly, deadpan. “Do you want me to?”

He blinked again. Laughed nervously. “Okay, kinda scared. Kinda intrigued. Can’t tell if you’d punch me or kiss me.”

“Flip a coin,” you said, already turning back to your screen.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, staring a little too long. “I swear, you’re the hottest gamer goblin I’ve ever met.”

You didn’t correct him.

Let him think what he wants. It's easier that way.

–

Clubs were a balm for his messed-up soul—no doubt about it.

Let the bass rattle his bones, let the lights blur his thoughts. Scope the room for someone pretty, slip a tab or two, maybe end the night tangled with a stranger. That was the rhythm of nightlife—the kind he lived for.

Morality? Please.

He was never gunning for sainthood—where’s the thrill in playing it safe?

If he wanted a quiet life, he wouldn’t be out here pushing pills for fast cash. Hell, he wouldn’t have split his tongue, pierced half his damn face, or carved himself into someone society couldn’t swallow.

So yeah—look him in the eye and see if he gives a damn.

And speaking of things he does give a damn about—

There she was.

Perched at the bar, legs crossed, skin glowing under the wash of neon. Pretty. Effortless. Bored enough to be dangerous. Just the kind of trouble he liked to chase.

Wooin slid in beside you with the ease of someone who’s never been told no in a way that stuck. Elbow on the counter, lollipop tucked between his teeth like punctuation. Confident. Lazy. Dangerous.

“Hey,” he said, voice dipped in syrup and sin. “You look like you need something sweeter than whatever’s in that glass.”

He caught the sideways glance you gave him—sharp, bored, and unimpressed. Your lashes barely lifted, and yet that one look rolled straight through him like you’d already read the script and hated the ending.

He smirked, unbothered.

“Damn, rolling your eyes when I haven’t even misbehaved yet?” he chuckled, teeth flashing as he leaned a little closer. “That’s cold, ma.”

The bartender slid over a glass of whatever he always got—he didn’t look, didn’t need to. His focus was locked. There was something about the curve of your jaw, the way you leaned against the counter like you owned the night. 

Familiar. Too familiar.

His smile twitched, just slightly.

He took a sip, studying you from the rim of his glass.

“Have we met?” he asked, tone still smooth but a shade more cautious now.

You turned to him slowly, all deliberate grace—like you had no reason to rush, like time moved for you. Hair slid off your shoulder as you tucked it behind your ear, revealing a discreet earpiece that gleamed under the bar’s chaotic lights.

Wooin’s gaze dragged over you, and yeah—he’d smash. Obviously. Silk slipping over skin like a whisper? lips painted that deep, cruel red? You looked like trouble in the prettiest packaging, the kind of girl who walked away with a guy’s pride in her purse. 

But something tugged at the edges of his mind.

The way your eyes narrpwed. The tiny sigh that escaped you. That look of exasperation like you’d known him all your life and were already tired of his shit.

His smile faltered. Just a flicker.

He squinted at you, the light shifting overhead. Shadows rolled across your face and for half a second—something clicked.

His stomach dropped.

No way.

It couldn’t—

“Shut your ass up and scram, Wooin,” you muttered, not even sparing him a full glance.

His jaw practically hit the floor.

��Manager?!” he half-shouted, then slapped a hand over his mouth as a couple at the end of the bar turned to look.

He leaned in closer, eyes bugging out, voice dropping to a frantic whisper like it was state secrets he’d just uncovered.

“No fucking way—you’re a chick?!”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle you didn’t pull something.

“Wow,” you muttered, flat and unimpressed. “Sexist and stupid. What a combo.”

“Holy shit,” he exhaled, practically vibrating as he stared at you like you’d just sprouted a second head—one he was weirdly into. “You’ve been hot this whole time? And you never said anything?!”

You cocked a brow, already exasperated. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I mean, I just—” He gestured vaguely at your face. “I always thought you were, like... some dude...or a gremlin in a hoodie. You always looked like you hated daylight and happiness.”

You sipped your drink. “Still do.”

“Yeah, but now you’re—fuck, you’re, like—dangerously hot.”

You turned fully to him, resting an elbow on the bar as you looked him over with deliberate slowness. “And you’re still wearing that ugly-ass yellow glasses and thinking it’s a personality.”

He clutched his chest. “Oof. Brutal.”

“Accurate.”

He let out a laugh, grinning even wider. 

“I can’t believe this. All this time, I’ve been annoying the hell out of you thinking you were some grumpy little dude with carpal tunnel and a porn addiction—”

“And I let you think that,” you said, tilting your glass toward him in mock cheers, “because you’d never shut up otherwise.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or turned on,” he muttered.

“Go with turned on,” you said dryly. “You’re easier to handle when you're distracted.”

He snorted into his drink, then leaned in, eyes gleaming now—not with shock, but curiosity. Interest.

“Okay, but, like—real talk. You always this hot under all that fabric? Or did you do this just to mess with me?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His gaze dipped—subtle, lingering, not even pretending to hide it now.

“Actually,” he said, his voice dropping a touch lower, warmer, “yeah. I really, really would.”

The air between you thickened—less banter now, more charged. More aware.

You raised your brow again, but your smile was slower this time. 

 “Wooin.”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“You’re staring.”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I am.”

Silence. Or maybe not silence—just that kind of hum that fills the air when things shift. When tension stops being playful and starts becoming something else.

You looked down at your drink, then back up at him, eyelashes brushing your cheeks as you spoke.

“My shift ends in twenty,” you said. Casual. Measured. But not vague.

Wooin’s smile twitched, then grew into something unholy.

“Cool,” he said, leaning back with a lazy stretch. “I was just about to ask if you wanted to keep talking somewhere less... flourescent.”

“Oh?” You sipped, slow. “And where would that be?”

He shrugged, eyes glittering.

“I dunno. My place has softer lighting. Warmer... atmosphere. Fewer strangers.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. 

“Sounds sketchy.”

“Only mildly,” he grinned. “But I’ll even throw in a second lollipop and let you bully me the entire night.”

You laughed into your glass, shaking your head—but you didn’t say no.

Didn’t have to.

You just said, “Twenty minutes, then.”

And Wooin, already victorious, tapped his glass to yours.

“Worth the wait.”

MASTERLIST

[fancygremlin]

I love how Warren, Gordon AND Clive are character foils of one another. Interestingly, all three of them is assigned the colour gold. The colour implies relevance… which contrasts pretty well how they are viewed or treated by the other characters.

Warren is the “golden egg”.

He is the most important asset Overhead ever obtained and YET— despite all that, he is not treated like a person... he barely classifies as human by the people working at Overhead. In most instances, people talk for him, over him, and as if he’s not even in the room... and no one (except Gordon) seem to find that bothersome. At the start of the podcast he is set to follow a trail of breadcrumbs to return to the Red Valley Research Facility, which led him to discover that everything he thought he knew (his wife, his co-workers, his job, EVERYTHING) was fake. Overnight, his life was ruined and everyone was treating this event as if they managed to pull off a surprise birthday party for him (there was even cake! Oh, how lucky!). He later drives a scalpel through his own hand and people are worried for maybe a minute about him before they decide to use the self inflicted injury as a fantastic opportunity to test the pod’s potential benefits for medical urgencies. Warren is dehumanised and reduced to nothing at every turn, even before taking part to the project.

Warren is seen as nothing more than just a "fun" science project. Comparing him to a lab rat would be too kind, because that would imply that the people carrying out the experiments care about his wellbeing and are tracking his health (mental and physical) and ensuring his safety at each and every step of the way. Instead, he is simply viewed as nothing more than a test tube, a petri dish, a limited stock of valuable cells to routinely freeze over and thaw.

Gordon has a car that he lovingly calls the “golden bullet”.

He is always shoved in the background, belittled and treated poorly by his colleagues. He receives the most hostile comments from the people around him... quite routinely, too. When he worked at Overhead, he was considered as nothing but a corporate drone. Clive calls him "stillwater" to demonstrate how inconsequential and invisible he was to the company. Later, when he becomes the archivist at Red Valley, he is described as a man-child and treated like he has zero brain functions (he even gets called Igor, in reference to the character of the Frankenstein movie), he is made fun of constantly. No one expects anything of him... and Gordon internalised this, too. No one sees his importance, and as a result Gordon doesn't either. In reality he IS the one at the heart of the story: he was researching the seed vault way before anyone else, he is the one that records everything and subsequently provids the material that sacks Bryony, he is the one that explores the secret tunnel to aid Aubrey's plan and he is Warren's lifeline and only safe space while he continues to go in and out of hypersleep. He is the ONE person that helps Warren realise he doesn't deserve the harsh treatment he had to endure.

How fitting that Gordon, a character that struggles to find their purpose and their usefulness, is not even directly tied to the motif himself... his car is. And how interesting that the car is only lovingly referred to as golden, when in reality it is just coppery in colour.

Clive is the "golden boy".

He is at the front of the Kontinue project, and yet, no one really takes him seriously. He hires assistants for the project putting more importance on their appearance, rather than their qualifications. He dresses up in expensive clothes and suits to show how important he is to the company, only for the actual relevant people to not care what he thinks. During the meeting with Malcolm and Hester he was talked over, ordered around, treated more like a waiter than the important R&D person he is supposed to be... and I can't tell if he actually doesn't see this, or if he is refusing to face this reality. Bryony was fired because she was too smart for her own good and too dangerous, Clive was kept on the Kontinue project because he is being promised status and relevance, if he keeps doing what he is being told. He routinely threatens people, and still he never commits to the extremely graphic (and creative) threats he throws around: he is not the one that used the gun that one time, it was Bryony. After he is shot in the knee, his “get well soon” card is bland, generic and unsympathetic. No affection or warmth was being conveyed from his co-workers, despite the fact that he has been referred to as “the man of the hour” on multiple occasions before. And most importantly… he is recovering (seemingly) all on his lonesome. Just a Blue Sky to keep him company, while eating sad ready-meals and microwave lasagna. Where are his beloved wife and kid?

Clive is all appearance and no substance, all bark and no bite.

These characters seem to not be quite enough to classify as gold, they may be pyrite, or fool's gold instead:

Warren is the pyrite from which a lot of gold can be extracted. However, once all the gold is gone, he is going to be tossed aside, as his value is limited to and tied solely to its gold contents.

Gordon is the pyrite that was found by people who only see value in gold. No matter what, the people at Overhead will never appreciate the properties and qualities and uses of pyrite when they are so hellbent in digging and mining for gold.

Clive is the pyrite that is trying so hard to pass as real gold and wants to be treated as just as worthy. He is able to fool people for a bit, but pyrite might shine as brightly as gold and share some qualities and properties... but he'll never be the real deal... and some people might have started to notice.

[reflections-of-mobius]

[ @familylightfox || Plotted an event!]

How far could he walk....how far could he run, before he found someone to take out this unending rage on?

Shadow wouldn't dare exact revenge on these strangers- passersby who gave him a wide berth, several utterances of 'それは何ですか？' and soft gasps. Quiet, panicked exhalations followed by quickly side-stepping his frame. All these humans--- they were all scared of him. As they had every right to be. He was an alien. A thing, to them.- No more worth existence than a lab rat. The one thing he'd ever been to nearly everyone on this rock, save those select few.

The few who were gone.

He would have his revenge. It didn't matter who he'd have to tear apart, the lives he would leave broken in his path. He would have it. Burning, searing, the loss so fresh, intermixing with the old and coalescing into nothing more than a ball of fury deep in his chest.

An ear pricked, hearing the screech of car tires as rain poured and tried to soak clear through his fur and quills. Orange-red hues slowly drifted, only to snap the moment they caught sight of a familiar logo.

G.

If they wanted to pick a fight, all the better. Hopefully, he could get at least one to tell him what had happened. What had become of his Sapling. Why did he feel Walters was responsible? Red flashed with energy, sparks and errant crackles of electricity dancing between his quills. They zapped the water that dared touch him.

"....if you won't leave me alone...the least you can do...is be of use to me." How long had it been since they died? Who dared take what little joy he had left in this world? The powering-up of various weapons filled the air as citizens yelped and ran- none wanting to partake in the incoming fight. He needed information- and these drones would give it to him.

One way or another.

[triocat]

Lab Rats AU!

Khan, Lu, Nori and Yeva!

[fjsjjgnnfjdjf]

Size allergy (8/?)

Hehe... Hello? 😅

It took a lot more time than I would have liked to update again, it took me a little while to start this chapter, but now I'll be back with a little more constancy ✨

I'm still planning to make more drawings of this story, I even have plans to make a little cover, but everything in its time 😊

Now we'll see Splinter's point of view, the poor man can't have a day off from his children 🐁

English is not my mother tongue, if you see an error, please feel free to comment.

---------------------------------------

For 13 years of experience taking care of his children, Splinter sometimes thought it was a miracle that none of them had had anything happen to them by now, and this time was no exception. He had been wandering from one place to another after the strange discovery he had made in his youngest son's room, still not knowing what to do, it always happened to him with these things; he didn't know if he should stay and wait for his children to appear, if he should go out to look for them, if he should look for clues or if he should call someone... Everything was always very confusing with his children and he had a hard time making a decision. 

Meanwhile, he kept wandering around the lair, even thinking if he had done something wrong during the training that (for some reason) would have made his children feel bad; he discovered that the tank was still in the lair, which missed him more, maybe they went out to watch a movie? Although they used to give notice when they did that. At one point, he passed by Donnie's lab and, guessing that maybe he had something to do with all this, he wandered in to see if he could shed some light on the matter. 

To be honest, he didn't know if what was there was either incredibly suspicious or the most mundane, “With purple everything is a mystery” he thought to himself. Then he noticed his son's computer, maybe one of the security system cameras recorded what happened with Mikey's gun and maybe it would give him a clue as to where his kids are. However, luck was not on his side, the device asked for a password and obviously he didn't know it. 

“Ugh... Why do they always make everything so complicated?” he grunted to himself, as he tried to guess what the password would be. 

Of course, he had no luck, and after five tries the computer locked up. He grunted again, wondering if maybe it would be better just to wait for them to come back. 

“Splinter?” a robotic voice was heard from behind him. 

At first, he was startled, but as soon as he saw the purple drone hovering in front of him, he returned to his look of annoyance at the earlier situation. 

“Ah... You're just the drone in purple...” he wrinkled his nose, thoughtfully “What was your name again...?” snapped his fingers “Shelly?” 

“Shelldon” corrected the drone, he seemed puzzled by the rat's presence “What are you doing in Donnie's lab?” 

“Uuuu... nothing important” he waved his hand indifferently, when an idea occurred to him “Wait, if you're the robot in purple, then you have access to the lair's cameras, right?” he pointed out with some enthusiasm. 

“Unfortunately, Donnie took that feature away when he upgraded me to version 10.2” he replied with some discouragement. 

“Of course...” Splinter commented frustrated “And do you know the password to his computer?” 

“Removed in version 5.8” after hearing another annoyed grunt from the rat, Shelldon decided to ask “Why do you want to know that?” 

“Ughh... Things you wouldn't understand...” the drone kept looking at him and Splinter sighed, “I'm not losing anything by telling him” “The boys aren't in the lair and I want to find them... I have a bad feeling” 

“Oh! For that you should track their phones!” he exclaimed, and before even the rat asked him if he was able to track them, the drone projected a map above him, marking four bright spots; one blue, one purple, one orange and one red. 

“Wow...” he said with surprise while noticing something peculiar on the map “Wait... Why is red so far away from the others?” the point that marked his eldest son was considerably far away. 

“Oh... It looks like the others are still in the lair... Raph is apparently out of town” Shelldon replied without noticing Splinter's nerves. 

“What?!” he exclaimed upon hearing his eldest son's location “That's not true!... I've already checked the whole lair!” he raised his arms, melodramatic “None of them are here!” 

“So, they left their phones... Donnie left his here” commented the drone pointing with one of its propellers to the genie turtle's work table, indeed, there was his phone. 

Well, this certainly meant that something was wrong (if the previous signs were not enough); his kids could leave without their weapons, they could leave without their equipment, hell! Splinter would bet they could even leave the lair without their masks, but they would never leave without their phones, they were practically addicted to those devices. That only one of his sons would come out with it was to mark the situation as event of the century. 

Luckily, he knew Raphael's position, probably if he found him, he would find the rest of his sons. So, he left the lab, preparing to go out and look for them. 

“Where are you going?” Shelldon exclaimed, following him. 

“To look for my boys” he said as he grabbed the keys to the turtle tank and headed for it. 

“Are they in trouble?” he asked curiously. 

“I hope not... Although if not, they will be with me” he commented the last thing to himself. 

“Oooh... Can I go?” excitedly flew the drone around Splinter's head “I can be the new Donnie!” 

“Ummm... I don't know, purple won't let you out?” he raised an eyebrow at the drone. 

“No” he complained “But that's because he's boring and a party pooper!” he exclaimed in annoyance. 

Splinter sighed a little as he thought for a second. It was true that the little robot was irresponsible, though it was also true that Donnie was boring. Besides, how could he follow the map if he didn't have him or understand his son's technology?, he looked again at the robot, who seemed determined to get out. 

“Hey, I guess it's no problem” he said, standing up, the robot fluttered with joy “But stay close to me! Purple would tear me apart if anything happened to you!” he pointed firmly. 

“Yes! A trip outside!” exclaimed the drone as it entered the tank behind Splinter, disregarding his warning “Booyakasha!” 

~~~~~~ 

Raphael was still somewhat asleep, when a slight tremor around him woke him up; at first, he was disoriented and didn't know where he was, until he saw Mikey's giant face (he was still asleep) and the memories of the night before hit him like a truck. He sat up and tried not to make too much noise when again the slight tremor stunned him; turns out it was his phone, Draxum was calling him, then he remembered. 

“Oh! Draxum... I'm sorry I didn't write you, I forgot” he spoke low, trying to avoid waking Mikey. 

“I thought you would forget” he said with an exhausted sigh “How is Michael?” he asked quickly. 

“He's fine now” at that, he activated the camera to show the yokai the half-sleeping face of his younger brother “He grew more times yesterday, but after that he hasn't felt pain again” he placed a hand on the latter's face to show the difference in size. 

At that, the box turtle started to wake up, noticing his little big brother in front of him with the phone, a bit disoriented. 

“Raph?” then yawned slightly. 

“Mikey... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wak...” he started to speak, but the yokai interrupted him. 

“How are you feeling Michael?” asked the yokai, the turtle wrinkled his face to see whose voice it was and when he saw then he smiled slightly. 

“Barry? Hello” he greeted and looked at him curiously “How are you?” he yawned as he said this. 

“He's asking how are you” Raph explained to his little brother who was still shooing his own sleep. 

“Oh... I guess I'm fine” he answered vaguely. 

“Have you been feeling any aches or pains?” he asked “What is your current height?” 

“I haven't been in any pain after yesterday” he answered more clearly now “Mmm.... I don't know, but I can see over the trees if I stand up” he pointed upwards. 

“The trees?... Where are you, Raphael?” asked the yokai with some annoyance in his voice. 

“Oh... Well, Leo sent us to Todd and...” as he was explaining, his phone vibrated again. 

It was his father! The snapping turtle almost panicked, and quickly cut off the intrusive call, to see Draxum again. The latter looked at him strangely, Mikey also looked at his brother with some suspicion. 

“What was that noise?” demanded the adult. 

“N-nothing... This phone sometimes fails hehe” he laughed nervously. 

“...Anyway” he answered after a moment “If you haven't felt any pain after hours, that means you're done growing... And from what I see, the fairies sprayed you many times” from the phone screen it could see how Draxum was looking Mikey (or at least his face) up and down and saw Raph, probably mentally comparing their sizes. 

“Yes, Donnie told us that yesterday” he looked away somewhat uncomfortably, but quickly returned to a smile “But I'm fine, my brothers and Todd are taking care of me” he said optimistically. 

However, the mention of Donnie upset Raph; realizing that the position his little brother was in was not the same as when he fell asleep. He began to observe the ground around him, there was no presence of his shrunken siblings (which only increased his paranoia), not realizing that Mikey and Draxum were still talking, while he was fidgeting with the phone engrossed in his fears. 

“RAPHAEL!” Draxum's authoritative voice snapped him out of his panic spiral “What's wrong with you?!” he demanded after seeing the camera stop shaking. 

“Raph...?” Mikey said cautiously as he saw his brother stare at nothing; seeing that he didn't react, he gave him a gentle nudge with one of his fingers.  

This seemed to wake the snapping turtle from his trance. 

“Ah!” he exclaimed, getting his brain working again, he gave a feigned smile to the yokai watching him “I'm sorry Draxum, but I have to go, I'll call back! Bye-o...”  

And with that, he hung up the call, if anything Draxum managed to say, it went unheard. 

Before Mikey could ask Raph what the hell was wrong, Raph came out of the little hole he was in on his arm and started circling around him, not taking his eyes off the ground. 

“Raph, what's wrong?” he didn't understand what was going on, he moved slightly, but his brother threw himself on him (figuratively) as if trying to stop him from moving. 

“MIKEY!” that scream was louder and more distressing than he thought, it scared him a little “Don't move!” Raph realized he was scaring Mikey, but he was scared too “I can't find Leo and Donnie!” 

Mikey blanched, seeming to share the idea his older brother had in his head, he almost seemed traumatized by his own imagination of what might have happened. No, he didn't want to believe it, he strongly denied it. Raphael continued to search the surroundings of the huge box turtle, looking for any sign of his shrunken siblings, praying he would find nothing of what his paranoia was making up. After many turns and checking to make sure nothing was crushed, other than the pillows and sheets, he looked over at his little brother, who seemed on the verge of an anxiety attack. 

“Calm down Mikey...” he wanted to try to calm him down, approaching his arm and giving it a caress. 

“D-did you find them?” he stammered in fright. 

“No... But I assure you they are not crushed” that brought some relief to both of them “I'll look for them... You'd better not move too much yet, maybe they're still nearby” 

Mikey nodded, feeling a little helpless as he watched his brother carefully walk away while he searched. As he tried to calm himself down, he felt something strange; he had been trying to ignore it since the early morning, thinking maybe it was his body resenting the change in size, but this was different, only his stomach hurt, he didn't want to think about that now but the pain didn't stop. 

Raph felt a new tremor, but this time it was coming from the giant turtle; seeing it, he realized that Mikey had both hands on his belly and had a slight blush, he knew that this problem would come sooner rather than later, but why just now? 

“Really?” he complained to himself with an exasperated tone of frustration. 

“Sorry” the boy seemed embarrassed by his body's reaction to hunger.  

Raphael felt like he literally couldn't handle it all, miraculously he didn't end up letting out an annoyed scream, just holding it in because he was still trying to be the big brother in this whole situation. But it just WAS TOO MUCH; their dad is looking for them, Leo and Donnie are missing, and now Mikey (who is the definition of huge) is hungry. 

“Snack Cakes!” he exclaimed, wishing someone or something would help him with all these problems. Prologue Previous / Next

[lefthandofscaevola]

Really like the theory that the tempers mdr is balancing are gemma’s and they've been slowly deleting her personality as a prototype for more subdued worker drones. Partly because it explains why known regularguy mark s. figures so critically into cold harbor and his “freshman fluke”—his subliminal knowledge of and intimacy with her mind gives him the ideal tools to destroy it. And partly because I think the saddest possible scenario is not that “we're killing people down there” but that this is what it takes to neuter even one person to brain-death—years of work, years of sifting and binning and degrading. Lumon religious philosophy is all about these vast factory-floor hives of interchangeable labourers but what if the individual mind is so distinct and intricate it took someone who loved you to break it down.

The wellness sessions also serve a dual purpose if she is the real lab rat—she is essentially learning to recognise and root out or punish the tempers in others. It puts cobel’s comments from season one that she was “trying something new with ms. casey” and that “the light of discovery shines truer upon a virgin meadow than a beaten path” in a different light. Monitoring helly wasn’t so important as seeing how gemma would respond to a very heavy dose of woe and malice—which ultimately she can’t handle. hence, the testing floor.

To complete his orpheus trajectory I think the real twist of the knife now would be to make mark’s reintegration propel him over the finish line with the file. Despite the work being abjectly evil one of the most stressful parts of this season is somehow still how little progress they’re making towards their quarterly deadline—but that could change if a refiner were suddenly working with real, conscious knowledge of the data. The last evidence of the person your wife is/was is in those numbers. but don't look.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any RPGs about being an unethical mad scientist or being a mad scientist's creation? Like creating an orangutan with buzzsaws for hands, a horribly mutated two-headed crocodile, grafting a rocket launcher onto a demon's back, giant biomechanical monstrosities, etc.

THEME: Mad Scientist’s Paradise

Hello, so I have a few games that seem specifically tied to mad science, but I also found some games about mutant animals that are a bit more focused on a post-apocalypse. I hope they are still close enough to what you are looking for!

Metamorphosis BX, by Tragos Games.

Metamorphosis BX is a post-apocalyptical MiniBX hack in which you'll roleplay a hybrid survivor in an ever-changing world in which a cataclysm fragmented time and space. It is light both in mechanics and tone, aiming to be fun above all.

This is one of the games where your strange mutations and abilities don’t necessarily come from mad science; but I think they could, if you wanted them to. This is a game that employs the use of roll-tables and gives your characters both benign and malign mutations, with different sized pools of different size dice for your hit dice. What is interesting is that you have a list of different dice pools on what is called your hit dice double-helix, aka HDDH - taking your highest dice from your dice pool every time you take a hit. This encourages your characters to end fights quickly, or avoid them when you can - and it also makes for a highly lethal game.

Mutants in the Now, by Julian Kay.

In the ‘80s and ‘90s, they ruled the streets, kick-flipping off of villainous faces and slipping into the shadows. Then, they vanished from the world of tabletop gaming.

But they’re back. And ready to KICK BUTT.

Mutants in the Now is a retromodern retake on the mutant animal role-playing games long past and left behind by licensing. Mutants fight to survive, thrive, and make the world better for themselves and humanity.

I’m not entirely sure what the origin of your mutation is in this game, and it seems that’s the point. The source of your mutations is meant to be a mystery, although big tech corporations, alien conspiracies, and psychic ninjas are all on the list of potential bad-guys. The game itself has a multitude of good reviews, with a lot of praise for the flexibility available to you at character creation, and a large amount of love for the random tables.

If this game sounds interesting but you want something a little less scienc-ey, you might also want to check out the Mutants in the Next supplement, which adds in cryptids, mythical beasts, and a post-apocalypse setting to throw at your characters.

CyberRats, by Alex Rinehart.

You are genetically engineered Operatives addicted to Biotech, a glowing gel that gives you superhuman powers. 

The world is being invaded by extraterrestrials known as Interlopers. You have been employed by a megacorp to ensure that the aliens don't win, and that if they are stopped, it's you who does it, and not some rival corporation.

Winning won't be easy. But it also won't be enough. The right corp must get credit.

Can you stop the aliens? Will you sabotage the military to steal equipment and defense contracts from your competitors? How many Operatives will you lose before you taste victory?

Cyberrats, an illuminated RPG.

Here’s a game all about being lab rats - literally! Cyberrats is a fast-paced shoot-em-up about genetically engineered rats addicted to the substance that gives them super-human powers, up against a terrifying alien threat. Your characters can be altered biologically, but also cybernetically, so I have a feeling rocket launchers and exo-suits are on the table here!

If you want to hear what this game plays like, you can check out the Cyberrats Radio Hour, a 30-minute episode full of alien combat and explosions.

Bio-Drones & Cryo-Clones, by ChrisAir.

Bio-Drones & Cryo-Clones is a 48pg biopunk facility-crawl for Mothership RPG, inspired by the body horror of Cronenberg’s The Fly and a twisted take on Metroidvania “save stations.” This zine is the first installment of The Sleeper Crew Adventures zine series.

PCs wake up in the Mountain Forces R&D Facility, dropped smack center into the plans of a scientist gone mad in her love for the dead despot that once owned the world. Players must gather clues, navigate NPC motivations, evade monstrosities before they Become the Mutants.

This is less of a gonzo scenario and more built for fans of horror, putting the player characters in a hostile lab environment and threatening them with a number of mutations as they try to find a way to stop the mad scientist big-bad of the adventure.

This isn’t a standalone game, but rather a module for Mothership, which is a game set inspired by Alien and has many, many different kinds of modules that you can run in many different horror scenarios. This module looks rather extensively developed, with printable maps, a set of VTT tokens, and art for all of the listed NPCs and Creatures. If you want a game full of suspense and horror, you should check out Bio-Drones & Cryo-Clones!

The UPLIFT, by Kurt Potts.

The Uplift is a tabletop RPG about cybernetically uplifted animal heroes saving the galaxy with superpowers! Think Guardians of the Galaxy, but you're all playing Rocket.

You awaken to find you are both less and more, you are both old and new.

You play animals who've been cybernetically uplifted by some mysterious company or lab. Through your adventures you may get the chance to learn why this was done to you, but by then it may not matter anymore. You're a hero and the galaxy needs saving.

Describe yourself in four steps, and let the GM describe to you the situation the crew finds themselves in. You roll 2d6 for pretty much everything you try, with modifiers for advantages and disadvantages. Each character will have one super-power that allows you to add a third d6 to certain rolls, to increase your chance of beating the difficulty score. You can risk personal injury or busted implants on a failure, and then spend downtime later to fix yourself up.

I like that the designer of this game took the basic rules of WSCA games and combined them with tools like clocks and downtime, which are commonly seen from Forged in the Dark games. It allows the players to deal with bigger setbacks during play, because you know you’ll have a chance to fix them down the road. That being said, you can still choose to die a heroic death if you still want to!

Science & Sabotage, by Live Real Press.

You are a team of evil mad scientists, hell-bent on creating a doomsday device that can bring the world to its knees.

Unfortunately, there is competition for the honor. You must finish your device before they finish their device. 

You don't have time to play fair.

This is a game where you actually get to play the mad scientists, rather than their creations. It’s built off of the famous Lasers & Feelings structure, so you just need a d6 or two to play. Race against a rival team of mad scientists to be the first one to destroy the world - or at least, to threaten the world with destruction. This is probably good for a single one-shot, or perhaps, if you want to combine it with one of the other games here, you might want to use this game as a set-up for the event that destroyed the world, or perhaps your scientists are instead racing to be the first to cause mutations on a global scale!

Blister Critters, by stillfleet.

Pick your favorite varmint, grab your dice, and roleplay as a cartoon animal on a radiation-blasted Saturday-morning show!

The humans are gone just like the ozone layer, and the world they left behind is overflowing with danger…

In this innovative and surreal game, you play as a small animal who can wield bizarre mutations called Blisters as well as physics-bending Nonsense powers. These strange abilities—artfully developed within the Grit System—will help you survive in a vast, cruel suburbia populated by fellow Critters and their feral counterparts, Beasts.

The sun will mutate you and give you special powers as you scavenge the piles and piles of loot that the humans have no more use for. The tone of this game is very much like a Saturday-morning cartoon, but you can also turn up the gritty dial and make it about the harshness of this new world if you want to. Blister Critters uses a number of different polyhedral dice, with larger dice assigned to traits you’re good at and smaller dice assigned to traits you’re… not so good at. Your character also has two pools that can diminish: Health and Grit, which represent your hit points and your energy respectively. Your Grit can be spent to power the special abilities given to you by your Blisters, so the course of gameplay will likely require balancing your resources as you work through various obstacles.

The Kickstarter has finished for this game, but you might want to keep an eye on it so you can see when the final product is published. In the meantime, you can also check out the Quickstart, as well as the entries to the Critter City Crawl Jam.