“I see you’re awake, dear girl. I’ve been impatiently poised and ready to come introduce myself to such a marvel as yourself.” The heavy accent is foreign, almost like the Queen of England that I’ve heard on television in the orphanage, and I screw my face up at the man who strolls in towards me, smiles weirdly as though eyeing up a special gift someone has left for him by surprise. I’m momentarily taken aback by the almost caricature way he has of talking.
He’s in his older years with greying fluffy hair, glasses, and a balding head. His midriff is round and portly, which makes his white lab coat look restrictive and emphasizes he’s wider in size than in height. I can tell the second he walks in that he’s not wolf; I mean you would never see a wolf in this bad a physical shape and we definitely do not go bald. Grey over time, but none of that human aging flaws like developing weight or saggy bits. Definitely no losing hair. Wolves stay in their prime until they cash out past the hundred and so years we live for, and this guy looks like he’s maybe hitting human sixty at a push. He has a striped, baby blue shirt on, a peek of green braces, but a dark red polka dot bow tie that just adds to his peculiarness.
I just stare at him pointedly; eyes steeped in mistrust and give him no response.
“Quite.” He says absurdly for no obvious reason as his eyes travel up and down me in the most disturbing way. I’m definitely being sized up for some sort of alien autopsy. Either that or he’s lost in his own head and marveling at some wonder that has him smiling like a weirdo.
“Where am I?” I blurt out boldly, not really caring about polite and friendly given my current predicament, and the fact this asshole has me lassoed to a bed, while Willy Wonka style bobbing nearby. My spine is agony at the point of that damn dart, and it feels like I’m black and blue all over. Only just beginning to feel my fingers and toes and despite starting to regain some alert, I feel like I’m not quite here fully yet, and this still has an aura of dreamlike to it.
“Oh, of course… silly me. How rude and utterly awful. Let me introduce myself first. I’m Doctor George William Robert Adams, I’m the resident chief scientific officer at this facility, and you my dear are our guest. Sadly, we did have to take some measures for both our safety and yours, given that like my acquaintances, you seem to possess a certain wonderful gift, but it’s a temporary arrangement until we become better acquainted. I hope you won’t hold it against us, that without knowing your character or purpose for trespassing on our doorstep, we acted hastily in a precautionary manner. And your name is?” It’s a whoosh of ridiculously precise, queen’s English in an exaggerated and somewhat foolish sense. I’m at a loss. I didn’t think people actually talked or behaved like this, let alone ones who survived living among the aggressive, low patient, temper driven, wolf kind, like me. He’s a little absurd.
I blink at him, stupefied at that whole upper crust, marble mouthed, mass of weirdness, that came out of him. He seems like some eccentric Mary Poppins type character, and I’m sure I might still be high from whatever they darted me with. I stare right back at him blankly, dropping my head back on the semi flat pillow underneath it and say not a word.
“I know, I know…. You must be thinking the absolute worst after Mr. Deacon took you down with an elephant dart, and they carted you in here and trussed you up like a Sunday roast on an oven sheet. Truly, we don’t mean any harm, we would just like to ascertain who you are, where you came from, and exactly what you were doing snooping around this rather top secret and out of bounds facility. A boring informality before we can be more hospitable. Please don’t hold it against me.” He raises his brow at me, still smiling like a demented person and removes his glasses to clean them on his coat, only breaking eye contact for a moment before returning them to his face and renewing that creep smile. I’m starting to wonder if this one is a sandwich short of a picnic and maybe this is what happens when you live in a box underground and don’t see the sun for prolonged periods.
“Passing through. I have no idea what this place is and no interest in it.” I point out blankly, not really willing to elaborate, but it only gets a strange hmmm noise in return as he nods at me.
“I see. Except the little issue with that is, you were very clearly caught on our surveillance, snooping around, and checking Tyron’s truck out, before high tailing it into the forest. Oopsy. I believe you, but they don’t, which is rather disastrous. May I add though… wow, just wow, I’ve never seen, literally ever, in the real flesh and bone myself, an actual pure and full white furred wolf. It truly was a remarkable sight, not to side-track the main point and negate the seriousness of your current position, but I just had to put that out there.” He raises his palms in a quirky little jazz hand movement that perfectly times with the happy wide eyed, lifted brow thing he does. The dude is strange.
Who the hell is this guy, and did he swallow a thesaurus in his formative years? He sure takes the long way to say anything and it totally throws you off. I honestly can’t tell if this is a tactic to disarm you and pull information, or if he really is a conversation starved oddball and tends to offload. Maybe he’s just weird, he has the whole odd outfit thing down to a T for being a weird one.
I’m also shocked to be told my fur is now fully white, although I did have hints and suspicion it was turning that way, but he just solidified the fact for me. It’s not like I’ve had a mirror, or an ability to take my head off and use it to look at my full body when turned. No idea why my turning white is happening, and I wonder if mother experienced the same thing. A flaw, just like everyone said it was, maybe some kind of disease that spreads.
“I thought he might have food.” I add, eyes darting around the room past him as I continue to come back to the land of reality and start looking for something useful to help me get out of these straps. Trying up muster up the will power to turn again, but nothing happens. Something is seriously screwing with my abilities and this individual doesn’t seem like an imminent threat. Unless talking you to death is possible. My nerves are quickly dissipating in his presence.
“Oh, so you’re hungry. Oh lord, how thoughtless of us. Well we can do something about that can’t we. No need for us to be rude and inhospitable. It makes perfect sense you would be drawn to a manmade building in search of supplies in the center of this green utopia if you were out here lost. I just would like to know your name for a start, and possibly where you originated from, and maybe, if you have any more friends lurking out there. A pack, a mate. Someone who might not be very discreet about the whereabouts of our sensitive location. I know it’s a bothersome formality, but they won’t let me feed or untie you without it.”
I ignore him completely, too occupied with the why of the fact I can’t seem to muster any kind of ability, and even my strength is no more than a regular human. It’s beginning to frustrate me, as I can now move my toes and feet, and rotate and wriggle them to test the strength of the straps. My strength and speed I have even in human form, is absent.
“What have you done to me? Why can’t I turn?” I snap it at him aggressively, temper rising as it really sinks in, but it isn’t helpful in terms of ability at all. I hit him with a pointed look under lowered browns and his happy little face drops to an almost impressed ‘oooh’ look.
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