Chapter Text
It's ironic- meeting with a "mad" scientist on a dark and stormy night. Especially when you already know it's going to be a strange evening.
You'd noticed a job listing in your local newspaper that sounded interesting: "Specimen needed for (optionally) non-invasive study. The time spent will be brief, and compensation will be awarded, based on further discussion." It was labeled as being a Misc. position being offered by Gizmonic Institute (a known place for shady goings-on), with "Only one session necessary" underneath the blurb (no specification of whether or not you'll survive). And thus, a few days and a couple phone calls later, you ended up standing in front of the very strangely-shaped building; debating with yourself whether this was really worth it. Before you could move, one way or the other, a voice called out to you from around the corner of the tower.
"Hey. Heeeyyy... You- the one standing there like some kind of lawn ornament."
You turned and saw a white-haired, jovial-looking fellow staring directly at you. "I assume you're referring to me?"
"Look don't take it personal. You're the one that called about the job listing, yeah?"
"Yeah. And you would be?"
"A potential boss-slash-colleague, that's who. Follow me if you still want the job." He turned and started to retreat behind the corner.
"Uh, we're not going in the main way?"
He stopped and looked back at you again. "Oh no. Uh, what we do is specialized. You don't have to go through them in there- you just gotta talk to us."
You pondered your options: go inside and talk to someone there, forget the whole thing and go home, or follow this strange dude to the back/side. It took you a moment as you were thinking to realize that your legs had already started propelling you to follow the white-haired man. So much for backing out...
Apparently, your new workplace might consist of a series of radioactive caves. You had voiced your concern about the mass of radioactive waste warning signs at the basement's entrance, but the white-haired man attempted to assure you those were merely to keep out unwanted snoops. He could not as easily dissuade you, however, from the several knocked-over barrels of glowing green sludge in one of the alcoves. Despite these 'warnings', you followed him to a particularly large open area, where a disheveled man in a green lab coat stood over a small cafeteria tray. You couldn't see what exactly it was he was working on.
Your escort cleared his throat, causing the other to turn and face you while quickly covering the tray.
"Ah, I see you found them before they went inside."
"Yeah, I caught 'em just before they were gonna go in."
"Good. The last thing we need is Gizmonic intervening in our work."
Upon hearing more of the unkempt man's voice, you could identify him as the one you spoke to on the phone. He'd said he was a doctor of some kind, and his name was one of those weird job-names; something like Carpenter or Tailor. At present, however, you were more concerned with the fact that these guys did not apparently work for (or with) the main institute above. You were really starting to have second doubts about this all.
"So," the 'Doctor' started, as he turned to face you. "You must be Y/N. I'm Dr. Clayton Forrester- the one you talked to on the phone. The... 'Man' that brought you in is TV's Frank."
"Just Frank is fine."
"He's a bit of a nuisance, but he does make a mean plate of nachos."
"It's the blend of cheeses I use: cheddar, mozzarella, and coconut."
Your head was starting to spin at how nonsensical these two were (or maybe it had something to do with the ever-increasing radiation poisoning. Who knows.) "Um... About this job..."
"Ah yes, good. So this will be a single two-hour session, I can pay you 50 bucks at the end of it. All you gotta do is watch a bad movie with us, under the influence of a mind-altering substance."
You knew it. Immediately you can envision the giant needles, the smoking liquids, and whatever (limited) confidence you had left in this project went flying out the window. You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked to see the Doctor had come much closer to you.
"No need to worry- this particular substance is naturally composed, and should have minimal lasting effects."
"He means weed!" Frank shouted from a large bin of VHS tapes in the far end of the cave.
Oh. Well that changes things for you. "So it's just plain weed? You're not putting anything with it?"
"No, not yet. I need a controlled test with it before I can start experimenting with other drug combinations."
"Oh. Um... If you don't mind me asking, why are you conducting this particular experiment?"
The Doctor and Frank shared a knowing look before the former could answer. "We have an... On-going experiment involving the watching of cheesy old films, and how they impact emotional behavior. We were wondering if the marijuana would contribute anything to the dynamic."
As simple as that answer was, you were still quite puzzled by this entire situation. Before you could continue, however, some kind of alarm sounded within the cave.
"It's time to send him another movie, Boss!"
"Yep. You got the tape Frank?"
"Right here. But..."
Forrester looked directly at Frank, "What?"
Frank gently grabbed Forrester's sleeve, angling them away from you. "Are you, uh... sure about this? Right now?"
"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"With the new hire here?"
Forrester paused before turning back and walking to within inches of you. "Forgive me, but we have business to take care of. Can you come back in, say, a couple hours? We can go through the paperwork for the job then." Before you could respond, he's pushing you back toward's the basement's entrance. "Why don't I call you when we're ready, hm?"
"Uh... Sure?"
"Splendid. See you then." He gave one last guiding push before abandoning you halfway down the tunnel.
You're not quite sure what you've just gotten yourself into. Here's hoping you can weather the storm...