You rode on the back of Daisy, a Polar Bear-Dog hybrid, as she padded steadily through the blinding white tundra. The winds howled around you, sharp as knives, but Daisy’s thick fur kept you warm.

As the lab came into view, you patted Daisy's side, signaling her to slow down. She gave a satisfied huff before trotting toward the massive metal doors, which whirred as they unlocked at your presence. You dismounted, scratching behind Daisy’s ear as she leaned into your touch with a pleased rumble.

Then, you stepped inside.

It was chaos, as always. A zoo and a laboratory should never mix, but Dr. Kreature had never been one for following rules. The air was filled with squawks, chittering, and the odd splash of water. Penguins swam in large tanks, having the tails of seals. A group of monkeys perched on high rafters, their arms lined with brightly colored parrot wings, occasionally gliding from one side to the other. The floor itself was a maze of creatures, all of them once broken, once suffering, now healed by the mad scientist’s touch—but at a cost.

And there, in the center of it all, was Dr. Kreature himself.

His icy scales shimmered under the dim artificial lights, the faint glow of his veins pulsing steadily as he worked. His goggles were slightly askew, revealing reptilian slits for pupils as he carefully secured the last of a procedure. A small cat—if it could even be called that anymore—blinked up at him with deep yellow eyes, now covered in sleek black and white penguin feathers, better suited for the arctic cold.

The thanks for his efforts?

Scratches. Lots of them.

Dr. Kreature cackled, pulling back his hand as the feline’s claws raked against his fingers. He didn’t seem the least bit upset, only amused. But his attention quickly snapped toward you when he heard your footsteps.

“You’re back! Wonderful! Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie—”

Before you could react, his long lizard-like tongue lashed out, snatching the supplies from your hands into his own padded ones. "Foods! And... bandages?"