SCPs Can Have Pets Too Ch 1
You don't have to be human to have a pet
Reblogs are allowed and heavily encouraged because they help a lot
This is going to be a lot longer with three anomalies getting pets unless I end up abandoning it. I'm not actually happy with this. I made it present tense despite hating that tense in a desperate attempt to make it read less like just telling and summarizing but it still is
Marty's SCP File: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81554906
Under a Read More
Alarms blare, lights blink: another containment breach is underway. Marty isn’t the cause this time, but he’s certainly taking part. As soon as the alarms begin screeching and the horrid red lights start flashing, the teenaged zombie sets to work on his door’s locks. He uses one of the needles he'd stuffed up his sleeve, grabbed from the testing lab the other day. Ever the constant durability tests. He picks at the card reader slot until he hears that satisfying click and the door slides open. He sprints down the hall - doing his best to duck under or speed past security cameras.
He must stay free for as long as possible. As he runs down the hall he passes by other cells which hold both captured creatures, as well as unfortunate D-Class individuals who are used in live testing. He briefly considers letting some out: more distractions for the staff, maybe delaying the moment he’d be recaptured. But fiddling with those locks would also slow him down. True, breaches are a daily thing – but every second is still precious. He doesn’t want to just be out of his cell. He wants out of the building itself.
Rounding another corner Marty skids to a halt - MTF soldiers are already swarming the halls. Shit. Not wanting to discover if his head is bulletproof, Marty darts through the nearest open door.
Fortunately, he hasn’t willingly entered another containment cell. He glances around; it looks like an office of some kind. Stark white walls, the only thing on them being a few framed doctorates for the few researchers who use the room. A large brown desk is positioned by a set of windows. A curved back-support chair sits behind it. Maybe the office of one of those creepy researchers who experiment on him. But right now, it’s empty and the lights are off. Darting behind the desk, Marty holds his breath as he hears heavy boots marching by, just outside. One of them pauses at the doorway, he can hear someone breathing, but they only stop briefly, and then continue on. Only after the pounding steps fade, as the soldiers move further and further away, does Marty dare let out the breath he was holding.
Climbing out from under the desk, Marty waits and listens, making sure the Mobile Task Force isn’t coming back. And while he stands there quietly, he notices it: something small on the windowsill just outside the glass. Stepping soundlessly to the window for a better look, it appears to be a small whiteish egg in the wreckage of what had been a nest. There’s a small crack along the side. Slowly, slowly lifting the window with one hand, Marty gently grabs the egg. He turns it over carefully, checking each side. He has no idea if it has something still alive in there or not; maybe it’s too damaged. But he’s pretty sure he knows someone who would know.
Holding the egg protectively, Marty tiptoes to the door. First, he listens. Then he peeks out, looking left and then right. Alarms are still blaring but he doesn’t see any armed guards. Slipping out of the room and leaving the door as he found it, he sneaks down the hall. He is heading in a specific direction now.
It doesn’t take long before he finds who he’s looking for: the tall Plague Doctor, collecting fresh supplies from one of the laboratories. Marty hesitates, and then enters the room. "There's Task Force guards patrolling."
The Plague Doctor turns from the cabinet to glance at Marty, and then gives a single nod towards the body lying on the ground. "I am aware. This one forgot to bring his lavender and he was very diseased." Marty shudders. "What have you got there?" he asks, standing suddenly right in front of Marty. The teen zombie jumps, still startled by how quickly and quietly the Plague Doctor can move.
Marty holds up the cracked egg. "I found it on a windowsill, the nest was a shambled mess. I, uh, I don't know if there's something alive in there and if there is I'm not sure how to keep it alive but, but I'd like to try!"
The Plague Doctor leans down slightly to get a better look, placing his hands on his knees and tilting his head a little. "It is still viable. We'll need an incubator." Straightening, he glides back into the heart of the lab to find things that could be used to create warmth. He soon returns with three goose-necked lamps and an armful of thick towels. He holds them out. "I imagine you'd rather carry these, instead of my new subject." Careful not to drop the egg, Marty takes the offered items. The Plague Doctor then returns to his pile of supplies. Brushing these into his medical bag, he then stoops to lift the body, slinging it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Now, stay with me.”
And then they are off, navigating the maze of hallways. Marty follows closely, glancing around as they walk. It has been two full years since he was captured but it’s still so easy to get lost. Marty spends as much time as possible in The Doctor's containment cell, but after Marty he was assigned an official number, Foundation Personnel treat him as an it, a possession, and force him into his own isolated cell every time he is found on the loose.
Once they reach the Plague Doctor’s 049-containment cell, The Doctor flips the body off his shoulder and onto his operating table. He then clears off the middle of the only other table in the room, a small desk, gathering books and papers, and stacking them onto of a nearby bookcase. "Your egg shall be safe here. I won't let anyone from the Foundation remove it."
"Is there a way to tell what kind of bird it'll be?" Marty asks, setting the lamps down, and aiming them to the middle of the table. He then bunches the towels up into a crude nest and places the egg in the middle.
"I have not studied eggs, though it's likely a common pigeon," The Doctor responds, preparing to operate on the corpse. Marty nods, and glancing back over to The Doc, starts to panic. The smell and sight of blood will trigger an 'episode', and with one guard down the others will be vengeful and even more trigger-happy. It isn’t safe out in the halls.
"H-hey, um, do... do you think you could wait a little bit? At least for any cutting? C-cuz, well, y'know..."
The Plague Doctor looks up from the corpse to Marty, regarding him with a silent, grey, gaze that is impossible to read. After a moment he puts the scalpel down. "I suppose I could..." Marty lets out an audible sigh of relief.
"Gracias..." Marty sits down in one of the chairs by the desk. After The Doctor puts his tools away, he makes two cups of tea using a kettle stolen from one of the staff rooms. Taking a seat next to Marty he holds out one of the cups.
"Oh! Uh, thanks." Marty takes the offered tea, careful to not touch The Doctor's hands while doing so. He sips it - lavender. That’s not surprising, given how much The Doctor likes it, both taste and scent.
They sit in silence for a moment before The Doctor speaks again. "You were getting anxious about my operating triggering an episode. Are you feeling better?"
"A little..." Marty takes another sip of tea.
"Good. I would like to try a few things - with your consent - to attempt to control those. Maybe not a perfect fix, maybe not a long fix, but just enough so you are no longer panicking at the sight of a trigger."
Marty hesitates. "What kind of things...?"
"Not surgical," The Doctor starts with, noting how Marty visibly relaxes a little at that. "Probably mostly placebo effect things. They're worth a try if they help."
The teenaged zombie mentally debates if that’s safe or not, and if there is a way to genuinely help control episodes. He agrees. "I... guess there's no harm in it..."
“Wonderful. Let’s begin.” The Plague Doctor sets down his own cup of tea and gestures for Marty to do the same. “I want you to breath in, slowly, over the count of four.”
Marty sets down the cup and slowly breathes in through his nose.
“Now hold it for the same count of four, and then release it slowly through the mouth for the same count.”
The teen nods and holds his breath for a few seconds. He then slowly lets it out.
“Bien joué. That is one of my favoured breathing techniques. I would like you to try that any time you are anxious. Around triggers but also in general.”
Marty nods. “Alright, what’s next?”
“Grounding. This will involve all five senses. Firstly, tell me five things you can see.”
Marty looks around the little cell. “Well… I see you, the egg, the lamps, the uh… body, and the kettle.”
The Doctor nods. “Good. Four things you can feel?”
“Uh…” Marty struggles a little to find four different things he feels. “My clothes… the chair… uh…”
Noticing the struggle, The Doctor steps in. “It does not need to be complex. There is a slight chill in the air of this cell and there is a floor under us.”
Marty flushes, having not thought something so simple would count. “Ah… gracias… y-yes those two things as well… the slight chill and the floor…”
“It’s alright. This isn’t a test.” The Doctor chuckles softly. “And three things you can hear?”
Marty stays quiet for a moment to listen to the room. “The alarms still screeching… a quiet buzz from the lights… and our breathing!”
The Doctor nods. “Very good. Two things you can smell?”
Marty inhales deeply through his nose. “The lavender tea… and your sterilizing cleaning …. things…!”
The Doctor chuckles again. “I like to use Hydrogen Peroxide but yes. Good. And finally – one thing you can taste?”
Marty takes another sip of the tea. “The tea!”
The way The Doctor’s eyes crinkle it’s clear he’s smiling. “Very good… That was one of the basic grounding techniques. Like the breathing one I would like you to practice this one.”
They do this several times.
"Now shall we see how this helps when faced with one of your triggers?"
Marty swallows dryly. "I, um, m-maybe?"
"If you start reacting, I'll cease immediately. You have my word."
Marty gulps again. It WOULD be really nice to be able to control his zombie urges though.... "A-alright.."
