This is a dark short story collaboration by  s0b and I. It takes place in the Eflasiaverse timeline long before the events of Blindside. Enjoy.

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Beep!
My ears flicked at the sound of a distant steel door unlocking, the angry groaning metal pulling me out of a fitful dream I was already missing. Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday… Today was supposed to be a day off. My muscles ached to a pulsing headache that I had hoped could be shaken off with the night’s sleep. I swallowed a vile telltale lurch of nausea, shut my eyes tighter from the sterile light, and curled the too-thin blanket around myself. That’s it, I decided. Anyone who wanted me out of bed today would have to kill me before they could pull my cold, dead body across the floor—

Slam. Went the door.

Clack. Clack. Clack. As footprints entered the walkway, my ears again whipped around, but this time with alarm. These weren’t the sound of the rubber standard laboratory-issued soles. They were…high heels?
The scrape of a chair moving forwards, the rustle of a seating. Then silence, the air conditioning’s low hum the only sound—

“Ah, ahem…” The awkward clearing of her throat, a new voice, a somewhat high-pitched un-human voice, was what finally piqued my head to turn. “Oh good, you’re awake.” She said, but I could see her train of thought pause as I unsteadily sat up and shed my blanket.

Past the heavy pane of glass with tiny holes sat an anthropomorphic bat with vivid lavender fur. She wore a human suit with holes in the arms for her wings. Her webbing had lavish flower tattoos all over. My phenotype, a zebra with a clearly artificial horn implanted into my skull, was not the real deal. I wondered why she ogled at me like so many visiting humans when my fur was not as garish as hers, and when she was the anomaly, the only fur I’ve ever seen not behind bars.

“I just want to talk.” She finally picked up. “Could you sit here, please?” She gestured to the space in front of her as if the glass partition were not present. …She seemed to be truthful. It was a change of pace from wasting away in a cell all day. My eyes darted up to the green-lighted camera in the corner, and she took notice of it too. Whatever this rude awakening was, it currently seemed a more preferable action than not complying.

There was a vanity table squeezed up to the corner where a wall met the glass, my only luxury in this room. And a chair under the table. Right. That would do. My eyes still set warily on her, I brushed down some of my morning fur. I made it to the seat and hefted myself into it as steadily as I could. She retrieved from a bag at her feet a clipboard and pen, then a small device and pressed it.

Beeeep. “Hello, Subject 0508. The papers here say you are Roxxy. May I call you that?”

I hadn’t heard my name in a long time. Why did she ask? …I nodded vacantly.

This has to be some sort of foreplay. Fur or not, name or not, it has to be another stress test. This is part of the bat's plan. She might be harder on me if she finds out I am not well. I gripped my legs just above the knee nervously, trying to keep my cool.

“Roxxy, there is no need to worry. My name is Doctor Howlett, but you may call me Espe if you like. I am from the exotics facility here, so I am not allowed to practice on you. I am simply here to ask a few questions, for the benefit of both of our facilities.”

My eye twitched. Exotics, Beauty Products, Meat Production…I’ve caught sight of shipment labels to Geneside’s other facilities, but the researchers wouldn’t tell me about them. Was this interrogation going to lead to new experiments on me, new dimensions of pain? Her eyes were on me, and so was the camera. My voice unused for some time, I uttered a raspy syllable, cracks causing me to finally cough out my words. “Do… your worst.” I offered my best forced smile.

The bat deftly nodded. “We have thirty minutes.” She scratched at her neck. Under her coat, I glimpsed the faint glow of a sleek subject collar, not unlike the one clapped on me whenever I was pulled out of my cell.

"Now, Roxxy. There was an incident a few days ago that you refuse to speak to your researchers about. The records show that all the cameras in the Playspace went out, and when security arrived, the other two subjects were...’torn apart and strewn about the PVC pipes.’” The false doctor’s sentence slowed as she read that part word-for-word. "Could you... Would you be comfortable with telling me what happened?"
I glanced down at my reflection in the polished tiles. “I don’t remember.” I was used to watching furs around me die in experiments. What was so special about the furs who died in the Playspace? They were lucky ones, they went quickly. “The others don’t concern me as much.”

The next words out of my mouth just happened. Like someone else was running my body while I was trapped inside. “What’s the weather like today?” As soon as I said it I realized I did genuinely want to know.

Doctor Howelett blinked a few times, looking rather perturbed. I caught a glimpse of her clipboard, bright red OUT OF STOCK stamps over the words “0682: Felis catus sapiens” and “0683: Rattus norvegicus sapiens” before she turned to another page.

“It is…snowing.” She said in a manner I could not comprehend. She used a tone of confusion and correspondingly raised her eyebrows, but it did not make sense why she would be confused at the weather if she knew it. I felt a small burst of gratefulness and wondered what the snow I had only ever read about in the science books and saw on the picture mats in the Playspace felt like for real when her next questions came. “Roxxy, how would you rate your quality of life here? What could the facility do to improve it for you?”

My shoulders quivered. The question was cruel even though it lacked the facetious bite most researchers possessed. Giving an unpleasant answer to this one only led to unpleasant consequences. I opened my mouth, ready to say, It is fine as always,

“You could end it…” I chuckled nervously. “It’s not like leaving is ever an option so…” I’d die one day here, might as well be sooner or later. Between the collar and the clear lack of expertise I took a shot in the dark. “How much are you being paid for this?”

The bat smiled wearily. “Relative freedom, after a few more interviews.”

A tinge of jealousy ran through me. Why wasn’t I the pampered pet? Why wasn’t I given a human name and full roam of the facilities, in exchange for parlor tricks like walking and talking like them?

“Now, Roxxy, do you recall what model and build your parents were?” The voice interrupted. …still, she was captive like me, and she was the first willing to tell me what it’s like outside. Maybe she was just a pawn of the researchers, here in place of a human so I would be more pliable, but this was the first conversation in this prison I found… pleasant. For more answers, I would cooperate.

“I was young when I was transferred here.” As I spoke, I turned so the camera did not catch my face. "My parents were Circa ‘73 and ‘76, American-made.” I stared straight at Doctor Howlett, then darted my eyes to the camera and back.

“Although I'm not sure on the function or any specifics.” She gave an understanding gaze back as I leaned forwards to get a better look at her collar.

“We never spoke, I just saw they'd been disassembled shortly before I came here. Found out for my 15th Birthday, so the reseachers told me." I could see a frown catch as she glanced over the scarring and bruises in my short fur, a small row of stitches running parallel to my brow. I darted my eyes over to her, only glass separating us now. "Who does your hair?"

“That’s natural. Look, perhaps it will glow under this light.” She said, casually shifting her papers, her eyes darting quickly down at them then back at me. I followed to see a sheet with my name on top. CLASSIFIED was stamped on it, PENDING stamped over that.

She continued to speak. “I am model Epomophorus crypturus sapiens, build 5YXXX15. You may recognize the build as a pleasure model, no genome sequence enhancements, splices only to phenotype such as technicolor fur and fractal designs.” She took another sheet of paper out of the clipboard as if to focus on that, but in the space underneath I could still clearly catch my own report, the first time I had ever seen it. There was written my mother’s and father’s models and years, “Equus quagga sapiens ‘73” and “Cerotidae Monoceros sapiens ‘76.” There were a lot of blank spaces under them all circled, after descriptors like “height” and “weight,” “company” and “function”… With my parents’ disassembly, the answers were lost to time. But, “Pending?” Where was I going? More than anything I would like to leave, even if it was just to another facility at Geneside. Or, could I not without all the blanks filled?

“Our time is up. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Will I ever see you again?” My eyes widened. Yeah, I had said it out loud. There was silence as she looked down, awkwardly shuffling her papers back in order and I knew what it meant. “Never mind, forget I said anything. It was nice to talk to someone for a change.” I turned away and leaned on the glass, the cold of it chilling my rear and shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to watch Espe leave. I didn’t want to cry in front of that damn camera. The first thing I considered sentient in a decade was almost as machine as I was, and I didn't know what to make of it.

Unexpectedly, her high-pitched voice spoke. “Build 5YXXX15 is one of the most prolific builds of all species on the planet, and [PINK\INTERIOR FLORAL PATTERN] is a common design. You will no doubt one day run into one of us. Please, feel free to address it as me. Our function is to serve, and if you find one of my modelXyearXbuild there is no genetic difference.”

I heard her stand up. I waited for her footsteps out, but only the hum of the air conditioning came into focus.

Click. Clack. Her voice aimed at the camera. “Sir. I don’t think—” I stumbled out of my chair to an ear-splitting screech. I watched her body seize up as she reached for the collar, her voice overpowering my shouting and knocking on the glass as she finally collapsed.

Beep. The containment door slid open and four guards marched in. Hazmat suits, one-way masks, my presence went entirely ignored as they shuffled up her belongings and pulled her body out the sliding door.

Slam. I had my quiet Sunday back.