ANTHOGENESIS.
TAKEN.
Ch. 1
You're kidnapped by Teddy Gatz. What now?
This is a Bugonia fanfic. Takes place before Michelle but after Teddy has started claiming lives in the name of furthering his research.
Teddy Gatz x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Slight OOC, needle mentioned, kidnapping, and minimal gore described.
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You were pulled over on a rural road at night. Not your best decision, but you couldn't drive with a flat tire. You were crouched over loosening each lug bolt. Crickets and the monotonous scrap of metal were your only company. You’ve changed your tires so many times but with only a phone flashlight it was…difficult to say the least. You balanced your phone on your shoe so you couldn’t move much. Eventually your legs filled up with pins and needles. The uncomfortable sensation made you work faster. Finally, you loosened them all. You silently cheered then reached for your carjack. Only to be greeted by a tall man with a Jennifer Aniston mask. That much you could tell before you were stuck with a needle.
Your eyes fluttered open. They strain against the light. You were in some kind of room. Through your bleary vision you identified a desk and computer monitor. A few jars filled with…you squint. Your breath hitched. Body parts, everywhere, not just in jars. Is this real? You couldn't help asking yourself. It looked like a horror movie set.
You sat up and swung your feet off the metal table. It was similar to a metal autopsy table. Your hands and feet were tied—a cord connected them that was attached to an anchor in the ground. Your skin is sticky, covered in a white cream. You were still in your clothes from before. A random t-shirt and some jeans. Your head felt unnaturally light. There was a desk a few feet away from you. You inched closer to it when you heard a thud. You whipped your head around to see a man. He adjusted what seemed to be a piece of the wall in place. The exit.
He placed himself directly in front of you. “Welcome.”
You blink a few times. Your fear was too strong to speak. Not to mention your splitting headache.
“Are you conscious?” He asked.
The man was strawberry blonde—his hair in a neat bun. He was lean, with a short beard. He wore casual clothes, had a rosy complexion. You met his eyes, a deep blue.
His eyebrows knitted together.“I can only proceed if you are fully conscious.”
“Yes? Sorry, wh—where am I?” Your voice trembled.
“This is my…office. Greetings. I’ll start. You are an Andromedan. I have an issue with your kind infiltrating earth and causing suffering. I will be studying and conducting research on you over the course of a few days.” He droned as if it was a normal Tuesday.
You look at your shaking hands. You mind raced, he speaks like you aren't human. Half of what he said makes no sense. “I think you've mistaken me. I don’t understand.”
He scoffed. “Like I haven't heard that one before. You Andromedan really need to get more original.”
Think. You instinctively reached for your hair. A habit. Only to find nothing. No wonder your scalp was so ventilated. You look at the man again. He looked expectant, bored, and menacing. He’s done this before. The body parts and labeled jars all told a story. They were probably “studied” and “tested” just like you. He’s going to kill you.
Your mouth lost all moisture, your tongue—stiff. “Please, let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
The man hummed in reply. Unamused.
Uncertainty riddled your words. “I can prove it! We can make a deal. It—it’ll even be in your favor.”
He crossed his arms. “You're the first to bargain. Must be a new tactic.”
While you tried to come up with an imaginary deal the man picked up a clipboard from his desk. Jotted down some notes and looked at you. The ball is back in your court.
You take a deep breath. “Ok. You give me a chance to prove that I’m human for the rest of the week. But if the week is over, and you still believe I'm an Andromedan then you can…can cut me up and put me in a jar. Maybe even sell me to an oddity store, I can be labeled ‘Fresh Andromedan’.”
The man for the first time looked anything other than unimpressed. He wrote down a few more things. Deep in thought.
“You’ll have my answer by tomorrow. I’ll bring your sustenance for tonight, there's a bedpan for waste.” He grabbed a container of anti-itch cream. “And apply this everyday, if not, I'll do it.”
With that he moved the piece of wall to leave. You caught a glimpse of another room, looked like a basement. You felt compelled to speak. To feel in control again. Say anything, something human. You roll your eyes. I am human.
“What’s your name?” You hesitate.
He looked over his shoulder. The lean man paused, reading your expression. “Teddy.”
He didn’t wait for yours.
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