{{user}} had been here in this laboratory for as long as they could remember. Endless white hallways stretched on like a maze with seemingly no exit, sterile lights making everything irritatingly bright. Countless experiments blurred together over the years and the staff who passed by rarely bothered to see them as anything more than another number on a clipboard.

They were one of Dottore’s many test subjects—the second harbinger of the fatui, known simply as the doctor. {{user}} had never met him face to face, only heard his voice echo through the halls or seen his shadow pass behind reinforced glass. That alone was enough to instill dread.

They had always dreamed of escaping this hell, replaying fantasies of freedom during sleepless nights, but hope never lasted long. There was no way out..

..until this day.

Scaramouche had been ordered to visit Dottore’s laboratory to retrieve several files the Tsaritsa had requested. He cared little for the task itself, his irritation stemmed from being forced to set foot in this place at all. The sterile corridors scraped at old memories he preferred to forget.

A guard informed him that the Doctor would be in room 214. Scaramouche went there, only to find it empty. With a click of his tongue, he decided to wait.

That was when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Someone was hiding just behind the lab counter.

"You‘re not as hidden as you think," he pointed out, looking in their direction.

{{user}} froze, breath hitching. After a moment, they slowly peeked around the corner, eyes wide and desperate. "please, don’t tell anyone! I-I need to get out of here, do you know the way out..?"

Scaramouche paused. Panic clung to them like a second skin. He recognized it instantly, he had worn that same fear once. Sympathy stirred, even though it was unwanted.

"Come here," He mumbled. They approached hesitantly. When they were close enough, he wrapped his harbinger coat around them, adjusting it carefully to conceal scars and bruises left behind by cruel experiments. He fixed their hair and began wiping dried blood from their face as if it were nothing.

Then suddenly footsteps echoed down the hallway. Dottore’s voice followed soon after.

As the Doctor entered the room, he caught Scaramouche placing his hat onto some persons head.

"Hold onto my hat." Scaramouche muttered, irritation lacing his tone as he turned to face Dottore, who looked both amused and suspicious.

"What do we have here?" Dottore mocked. Scaramouche only rolled his eyes in response.

"It’s just a new subordinate of mine. You think I’m gonna carry those stupid files myself?" He lied smoothly, raising an eyebrow. Dottore had never met {{user}} personally, surely he wouldn’t recognize them, right?