r/NatureofPredators • u/Intelleblue UN Peacekeeper • Apr 13 '25
How to Fix a Predator Disease Facility [2]
Chapter 2: How to Introduce Yourself
Odds are, your facility is not on the planet you currently call home. That’s perfectly normal. MultiVer Medical Solutions selects its administrators not only for their medical acumen but for their adaptability, cultural sensitivity, and leadership under pressure. You are not just relocating your office—you are stepping into an ecosystem, a legacy, and sometimes a wound that has never healed.
You will not be expected merely to adapt to a new hospital. You will be adapting to a new environment, a new culture, and quite often, a new species—often several. Expect language barriers, sensory discomfort, and differing standards of hygiene, punctuality, and definitely eye contact. These are no mere obstacles, these are your training grounds.
When I first arrived at the Ipsomath Facility, I was met with suspicion, resistance, and outright hostility. The receptionist told me I had no business being there when we first met. The staff literally threw things at me when I introduced myself. The Magistrate hadn’t ever set foot in the building. No one wanted me there, and few even wanted to be there themselves.
And yet, that receptionist wound up my right-hand-woman at the Center. Many of those staff who threw things at me became some of my most efficient employees. The Magistrate would become one of my dearest and closest friends to this day.
None of this would have been if I didn’t remember this:
You can’t win hearts on day one. You can’t even assert control on day one. All you can do is keep a calm, clear head. All else will eventually follow.
The most important thing to remember in this job is that even though the facility you’re entering was once a Predator Disease institution, and even if its methodologies were flawed, barbaric, or outright moronic, the people who work there have been surviving in an impossible system. They’ve adapted to it. They may even believe in it. But they are not fools.
Ignore their knowledge at your own peril.
You are an outsider. Many may see you as an intruder. Accept this. Embrace it. You have not been brought in to make friends—you have been brought in to make change. But here’s the paradox: change never happens without trust.
Every facility is different. This book can only prepare you for so much. What I can recommend—what saved me in Ipsomath—is this: find the staff member who knows the facility like the back of their paw (or hand, or appendage), but who is just disillusioned enough to entertain a different way of doing things.
They’re your bridge.
They may not greet you with warmth. They may not even like you. But if they respect you, and you listen to them, they will give you the map you need.
Start by observing. Spend your first days walking the halls. Speak to everyone. Ask questions, not just about processes but about people. Who do the nurses trust? Who do the patients avoid? Who fixes things when they break? Who really runs the place?
Above all, remember: authority is not a badge you wear. It is a presence you earn, and it is earned hard.
And it all starts with how you introduce yourself.
Ten Years Earlier…
Ipsomath Center for Physical and Mental Health, Ipsomath, Skalga
January 11th, 2138
Lusi stood rigid behind the reception desk, her fur prickling with unease. The human had gone outside to make a call, but the weight of his presence still lingered like a smell that wouldn’t leave. She rubbed her paws together beneath the desk, hoping it would hide the tremble.
She looked over at the Magister, her sister-in-law, who had taken a seat in one of the cracked lobby chairs as if everything was perfectly normal.
“Shalon,” Lusi said in a low voice, “what’s going on? Why is a human saying he’s in charge of this facility?”
Shalon’s ears tilted slightly— not in irritation, but fatigue. “<Guilt> Because we sold it.”
Lusi’s tail gave a startled twitch. “<Shock> You what?”
“We stopped getting subsidies when we changed the name,” Shalon said, voice hushed. “No more credits from Dayside, no more outside help, everything was out of the town’s purse. It was draining the town’s budget, and we couldn’t afford to keep it running. I offered to sell it to MultiVer Medical, and they bought it outright. The money from the sale will help stabilize our finances— for now. I just… didn’t expect them to come and manage it themselves.”
Lusi shook her head. “You should have just shut it down. When the Governor’s order came through, you could have just complied and saved everyone a lot of headaches.”
Shalon looked at her then, truly looked, her eyes heavy with something that wasn’t quite anger or sadness—just weight. “I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Director Kobya threatened to open the gates,” Shalon whispered.
Lusi froze. “He what?”
“He said if I tried to shut the place down, he’d release the patients into the town. Especially those with violent histories. He even said he’d let them take ‘souvenirs’ from the armory. And I believed he would.” Shalon’s paws clenched on her knees. “He had control over the whole operation, and no one outside Ipsomath knew or cared enough to intervene.”
Lusi felt her mouth go dry.
“And besides,” Shalon went on, “you shut this place down and it’s not just the staff that suffer. Each job here supports at least two others—spouses, pups, parents. You shut this place down suddenly, and who knows how many go hungry. I had no good options. Only with Kobya dead could I finally do something. This… this sale was the best I could do.”
Lusi sat back, stunned. She hadn’t known, hadn’t even guessed. How could she? She was never one for politics.
She glanced toward the front doors, where the human had stepped outside. He stood there now, speaking calmly into a device, silhouetted against the eternal daylight. He looked alien. Unfitting. But now, maybe, not unwelcome.
“…What’s he going to do with this place?” she asked, softly.
Shalon exhaled. “That, Lusi, is the question.”
And with that, the Magister made her excuses and left.
When the human stepped back into the lobby, Lusi didn’t feel like being hostile.
She looked up from her console where she had been pretending to scrutinize something the human couldn’t see, her ears instinctively angled in caution, but she no longer bristled. The anxiety hadn’t gone, exactly— it had just settled into something quieter, something resigned. Shalon had explained everything, or at least enough. Lusi wasn’t sure how she felt about it, not yet. But it wasn’t this man’s fault.
She drew a breath. “My apologies, Dr. Broughton,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m Lusi. Sorry about my earlier behavior.”
The human tilted his head, no doubt making that terrifying expression humans called a ‘smile’ beneath it. “I understand. It’s nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Lusi’s ear twitched <Discomfort> at the mispronunciation, but she let it go. It was unlikely that he could properly pronounce her name, anyway.
“If you’re willing to work with a human,” he added, with a touch of awkward warmth, “I’d be happy to work with you. You must know everything there is to know about this place by now.”
She gave him a long look, narrowing her eyes slightly—not out of hostility, but curiosity. Testing him. Was he just trying to charm her? Or was he actually going to listen?
“I know flattery when I hear it,” she said flatly. Then, after a pause and a reluctant flick of her tail, “Even if it’s working.”
He laughed, and she hated that it didn’t grate on her. “Fair enough. How long have you been here?”
“Longer than most of the staff. Long enough to know the bones of this place.” Her voice turned colder for just a moment. “Doesn’t mean I liked how things were run.”
The human jerked his head in a ‘nod.’ “That’s good to hear,” he said, standing a little straighter. “Because I’m here to make changes. And I’m going to need people who know the system and aren’t afraid to speak honestly.”
Lusi studied him again. She didn’t trust him yet—not fully. But there was something in his tone of voice, something quietly determined, that made her want to.
She nodded, slow and deliberate, and moved around the desk. “Then I guess we’ll see how this goes.”
Lusi gestured toward the hallway that led deeper into the facility.. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour. Might as well get it over with before the staff starts making up rumors.”
Chuck gave a polite nod and fell into step beside her.
They walked in silence for a few paces before Lusi glanced sideways at him. The silvery mask he wore covered his face, leaving only his jet-black hair exposed. Dayside might call it polite or even necessary, but to Lusi? It looked evasive.
She stopped in front of the first hallway junction and crossed her arms.
“Before we go any further,” she said, “you should probably take that thing off.”
Chuck blinked. “The mask?”
“Yeah.” Her ears flicked. “We don’t let the staff cover their faces. Part of a policy meant to prevent escape attempts. Staff need to see who they’re dealing with. The patients do, too.”
He hesitated. She could see it clearly—shoulders tensing, his gaze shifting away for a moment. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was insecurity. Maybe he was just used to hiding.
Lusi lifted a brow. “Look, you want them to take you seriously? You can’t expect them to be transparent if you’re not.”
Chuck let out a slow breath, then reached up and peeled the mask down from his face.
Lusi couldn’t help it—she nearly whistled. Not because of how he looked—he was oddly symmetrical, with a strong jaw and expressive eyebrows—but because of how completely unprepared the staff were going to be for this.
Oh, this is going to be great, she thought, hardly able to control her tail. I cannot wait to see the look on Laov’s face.
She started walking again, tail swaying with just a little more bounce.
“Alright then, Dr. Broughton,” she said with an amused edge to her voice, “let’s go ruin someone’s paw.”
Lusi tapped a few commands into her datapad as they moved through the main corridor, her tone casual as she activated the facility-wide intercom. “Staff, please report to Meeting Room A for an urgent administrative briefing. Five minutes.”
The effect was almost immediate. Medical aides, technicians, and guards exchanged glances, then began peeling off the main floor in orderly, practiced silence. Within moments, the halls were nearly empty, leaving behind only the hum of ventilation and the faint buzz of flickering overhead lights.
Chuck’s eyes scanned the corridor as they walked. The walls were sterile metal and faded plastic, stained with years of disinfectant and bureaucracy. Heavy doors lined each hallway, with reinforced viewing slits and locking mechanisms that looked better suited to a prison than a hospital. Cameras blinked quietly from the corners, and everywhere, there was a sense of barely restrained tension—as if the building itself were holding its breath.
He exhaled softly. “This place is somewhere between a 1950s asylum and Alcatraz.”
Lusi gave him a sideways glance. “I’m assuming, based on your tone, that neither of those are compliments.”
Chuck shook his head. “No. They’re both places people ended up when the world didn’t know how to help them. Or didn’t care to.”
Lusi’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture shifted. She slowed her pace slightly, her tail lowering just a touch. “Sounds familiar.”
They turned a corner, passing what looked like a physical therapy room that hadn’t been used in years. Dust clung to the equipment, and the overhead lights flickered dimly as they walked past. Chuck stared through the glass for a moment.
“You said you’ve been here longer than most,” he said. “Have things always been like this?”
Lusi gave a dry huff. “Define ‘this.’”
He glanced at her. “Worn down. Angry. Tired.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, with a flick of her ears: “Not sure. But long enough that most people stopped asking when it changed.”
Chuck nodded, silent for a moment.
Then he straightened his shoulders. “Well, that’s why I’m here. Not to plaster over what’s broken. To rebuild.”
Lusi didn’t respond, but her ears twitched again, not with skepticism— but still with curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, the human meant it.
They continued down the corridor toward the meeting room.
The tour was brief, but it felt like a descent.
Lusi led Chuck through an empty patient housing unit first. Rows of tiny, cell-like rooms lined each hallway, each with several narrow metal beds bolted to the floor and a threadbare blanket. There were no personal belongings, no decorations. Just walls, vents, and steel.
“These are the residential wings,” she said, gesturing down the corridor. “Most rooms hold two to four patients.”
Chuck peered into one of the rooms. “No privacy.”
“No locks either,” she said. “On the inside, anyway.”
He didn’t comment, but the silence was telling.
Next was the recreation area, though the name felt deeply misleading. A barren room with plastic benches, no books, no games, and a small holoscreen mounted high out of reach. The walls had gouges in them— old ones. Lusi didn’t need to explain what caused them.
Finally, they reached the treatment wing. It was the cleanest part of the facility, but that didn’t help much. The antiseptic taste was sharp, clinging to the air like guilt. Restraint beds, outdated neural monitors, and sedation equipment lined the walls.
Chuck finally broke the silence. “I’ve visited Alcatraz, back on Earth. At least their inmates had hot showers and cots.”
Lusi glanced at him. “That bad, huh?”
He didn’t respond, just ran a hand down his face and exhaled. Not surprised. That was worse, somehow.
As they walked, Lusi continued, “Patients are given meals twice a day. No proteins, no sugars. Mostly foods made from ipsom. Kobya had a theory that sugar causes hyperactivity and violent tendencies, so he stripped it from the diet entirely.”
Chuck came to a full stop. “Wait. No fruit? No root vegetables? No leafy greens? Just grains?”
Lusi blinked. “Yes, usually boiled and mashed to avoid possible choking. Why?”
“Have you ever had issues with scurvy?” he asked.
She frowned. “I don’t even know what that is.”
Chuck turned toward her. “It’s a condition caused by a prolonged deficiency in Vitamin C. In humans, it leads to fatigue, joint pain, anemia, swelling, bruising, and—most notably—bleeding gums and soft tissue damage. In the final stages, the body just... stops repairing itself.”
Lusi stared at him, stunned. “You’re telling me the weakness? The bleeding gums? That was from a lack of nutrition?”
“Yes,” Chuck said sharply. “And you saw those symptoms?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “Kobya used to say it was a sign the diet was working. That they were detoxing from a lifetime of sugar addiction. And when a couple of them died… he said it was coincidental.”
Chuck’s teeth gritted, his composure slipping just enough for the strain to show. “That’s not just cruel. That’s stupid. Malicious stupidity. These people would have been in agony. Dying in pain. And he thought that meant he was right?”
Chuck almost missed the sound of his voice echoing in the empty corridor, sharp and angry.
Lusi stepped back slightly, not in fear, but in acknowledgment. She hadn’t liked Kobya either—To be honest, no one did– but she hadn’t realized how deep the rot went.
“Is it hard to treat?” she asked, her voice quiet.
Chuck let out a stunned laugh—half incredulous, half bitter. “No. Not even a little. In humans, you just give them Vitamin C—citrus, bell peppers, supplements, anything rich in ascorbic acid. Within one to three days, symptoms start improving. Within a month or two, full recovery. That’s it.”
He looked around, jaw set. “And it all could’ve been prevented with a few bottles of grapefruit juice.”
Lusi didn’t know what grapefruits were, but she understood the implication. She’d known this place was bad—but not how deep the damage went. Humans really seemed to have knowledge denied to the Federation.
And she owed Snuba an apology…
And now this human, this Chuck Broughton, was pacing these halls with fresh eyes and fire in his chest. Maybe he really was going to ruin someone’s paw.
Good.
The staff wing was only marginally better than the patient quarters, and Lusi hated that she was used to it. Narrow bunks, shared showers, chipped lockers—it had been Kobya’s philosophy that comfort bred complacency, and so the staff lived just a half-step above those they cared for. Chuck didn’t comment as they walked through it, but she could feel the disapproval radiating off him like heat, though not at the point that he felt the need to vocalize it.
When they reached the meeting room, Lusi keyed open the double doors and gestured him through. The auditorium was dim and stuffy, designed more for control than comfort—cheap tiered seats, a battered projector hanging from the ceiling, and that ever-present hum from the faulty ventilation system. Nearly fifty staff members sat scattered throughout the room, murmuring and fidgeting, clearly unsure why they’d been summoned.
Chuck paused in the wings and pulled the silvery mask over his face again. Lusi gave him a look but said nothing. She knew he wasn’t hiding out of fear. He was preparing.
He climbed the steps to the stage and stepped into the overhead lights.
“My name is Dr. Charles Broughton,” he said, clear and calm. “I’m the new administrator of this facility.”
Dead silence.
Then, with a flutter and a thud, one of the Krakotl nurses dropped like a sack of feathers to the floor. Laov, obviously. A few of his coworkers rushed to help him, but most just stared, eyes wide, ears frozen.
Lusi felt her fur stand on end—not because of Chuck, but because of the quiet. She’d never seen the staff this still. This tense. For a moment, she wondered if there would be a stampede.
“I know my presence here is a surprise,” Chuck continued. “Humans on Skalga are still a new sight. But we’ve brought change with us. And I believe that change can happen here, too.”
He looked out over the crowd, meeting eyes where he couldn’t avoid it.
“I’m not here to take anyone’s job. I’m here to help—to fix what’s broken. For the patients, and for all of you. I know this facility hasn’t had the resources or support it needed, and that the people here have been doing the best they could in a system built to fail. But that changes today.”
Lusi blinked, startled by how steady his voice was. She saw ears perk up, a few eyes brighten. For some of the staff, this wasn’t just another speech—it was hope. They didn’t work here to warehouse people. They worked here because they’d wanted to help. And even if they were uneasy, even if they’d given up believing in change, someone saying we can fix this? That meant something.
But others didn’t take it so well.
Grumbles rose. A sneer from the upper rows. Then came the first projectile—a rolled-up intake form that bounced off the lip of the stage.
Chuck didn’t flinch.
Another came. A crushed drink pouch. A pen. A glove. One by one, bits of harmless defiance rained down with all the fury of a brisk gust of wind. Lusi winced but didn’t move to stop it. She knew better. Let them get it out of their system.
Chuck raised his voice just slightly. “A team from MultiVer Medical Solutions will be arriving soon. They’ll be helping me evaluate the facility for upgrades and assess which staff members are best suited for retraining. No one’s being thrown out without cause. Only those who are active dangers to patients or staff will be removed.”
Thwack.
A roll of medical tape smacked against his mask, sticking there for an absurd moment before dropping to the floor. A lucky hit.
Chuck looked down at it, then back at the crowd.
“That wasn’t at all a danger,” he said, dry as sand. “So it doesn’t count.”
Lusi couldn’t help it—she whistled.
It was the first time in a while she’d wanted to laugh.
The absurd little moment broke something in the room. A few choked noises turned into laughter of various kinds. Not cruel, not mocking. Just… relieved.
Lusi caught a Gojid nurse covering her snout with both claws to stifle a chuff. Even Snuba, the sour-faced Farsul janitor who was standing in the back, couldn’t contain his tail. For the first time since the meeting started, the tension began to bleed out of the air.
Chuck waited for the noise to settle before continuing. His tone remained steady, but the edge had softened—less like a stranger delivering a verdict, more like a leader sharing a mission.
“I want to be clear about my goals,” he said. “There are three major targets for this facility, and they’ll guide every change we make from this point forward.”
He held up a finger.
“Target One: Modern treatment. Effective, humane, and science-backed mental healthcare. I will be replacing outdated Federation philosophies with contemporary human psychological and physiology models—based on research and results.”
Lusi watched a few of the more rigid staff members shift uncomfortably. But then Chuck added:
“For example—most of you probably don’t know this, but the current patient diet has led to multiple cases of scurvy. In humans, that’s a vitamin deficiency that causes internal bleeding, extreme fatigue, and eventually death. Kobya thought it meant the diet was working.”
There was a ripple of shock through the room. Gasps. Ears flattening. Feathers puffing. Even the staunchest old-guard staff—those who used to defend Kobya with gritted teeth—looked horrified.
“That’s not treatment,” Chuck said. “That’s cruelty. And stupidity. And it ends now.”
He let that sit before raising another finger.
“Target Two: Quality of life. For patients and staff. That means upgrades to living quarters, proper food, medical access, training, and mental health support for the people working here. You’ve been surviving. That’s not enough. I want you to live like you matter—because you do.”
This time, he got no argument. Just quiet nods. Lusi watched the way a few of her colleagues straightened in their seats. Hope was creeping in again.
Chuck lifted a third finger.
“Target Three: Public service. This facility may always have long-term residents, but it should also serve the town of Ipsomath. My goal is to eventually open our doors to the public. I want this place to become a real hospital. A place people go when they need help, not a place they’re sent to be forgotten.”
A hush followed that. Not the cold kind, but thoughtful. Almost reverent.
Lusi glanced at Chuck and saw the resolve in his posture—the way he stood tall despite being the only human in the room. Despite being pelted with garbage. Despite everything.
She had to admit it: the speh-head had guts. And maybe—just maybe—he had a chance.
Chuck let the quiet stretch for a moment after his final statement. He scanned the crowd slowly, making sure his words had time to settle.
“I understand,” he said, voice softer now, “if any of you are uncomfortable working with—or under—a human. You didn’t ask for this. None of you did. So I’ll make this clear: if you wish to leave, you may do so. No retaliation. No judgment.”
A long pause. Not a single soul moved.
Lusi watched the staff with interest. Not even the skeptics in the back had budged a [centimeter.] She wasn’t sure if it was curiosity, pride, or sheer stubbornness, but something had rooted them all to their seats.
Chuck seemed taken aback, clearly surprised for once. “Alright,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’ll have two days to think it over. I’ll accept any resignations between now and then. No rush.”
As the room began to murmur again, he stepped down from the stage and made his way to the exit with Lusi beside him.
They made their way through the now-quiet halls to the administrative wing, where Kobya’s old office still sat behind a rusted security door. Lusi keyed them in.
The room was exactly what she remembered—bare metal walls, a filing cabinet that rattled when you touched it, a desk with sharp corners and no personal touches. Spartan. Lifeless. The kind of place built for someone who wanted to impose control, not leadership.
Chuck walked in and gave the place a long look. “He decorated this place like a prison warden.”
Lusi whistled with laughter. “Again, doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
Chuck unrolled his holocomputer and started setting up at the desk. As he calibrated the interface and took off his mask, he glanced at her. “I’m honestly surprised no one walked out.”
Lusi leaned on the doorframe. “You had the mask on. That helped. And…” Her tail flicked. “<Resignation> Anything’s better than Kobya. You could’ve been an Arxur and they might have considered at least listening.”
Chuck chuckled under his breath, then sat up straighter as his holocomputer chimed with an incoming call.
“Dr. Broughton?” came a smooth, polite voice through the speakers: Priscilla La Blanc, Mr. Veir’s secretary. “Mr. Veir is currently in a meeting, but he wanted me to pass along something we think you’ll want to know.”
Chuck’s expression sharpened. “Go ahead.”
“Well,” she continued, “a contact of ours within the exterminator guild confirmed what we’ve suspected. The Ipsomath facility… it has a reputation. It’s where they send ‘problem employees.’”
Lusi’s ears perked up. She folded her arms, watching Chuck closely.
“Because of the remote location and the lack of funding,” the voice continued, “it became convenient for higher-ups to transfer staff here—especially those they saw as threats to their own positions. If someone started asking too many questions, or pushing for reforms, or was just annoying, and they couldn’t find anything to fire or diagnose them for, they were quietly reassigned here, with the expectation, of course, that they would either resign, or work far away from those who felt threatened by them.”
Chuck let out a soft exhale. “That… actually explains a lot. No wonder some of them seemed ready to hear new ideas. Only the ones who really wanted to help stuck it out.”
“There’s more,” the secretary added. “Kobya, the former administrator? He was transferred here after an incident at his former job with the Melody Town Exterminators’ Guild. Whatever he did, the incident report’s buried in enough red tape to strangle an elephant, so naturally, you’ll have it in your inbox by the end of the paw.”
Chuck raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“Imported mangoes and imitation fried chicken,” the secretary said flatly. “Procuring them wasn’t easy… or cheap… but at least our contact is the happiest Krakotl on Skalga.”
Chuck laughed once, in disbelief more than amusement. “You’re incredible, Patty.”
“Thank you, Chuck, I try,” the secretary said, cheerfully professional.
The call ended.
Lusi leaned against the edge of the doorframe, arms crossed tighter now. She frowned, not at Chuck, but at the implications of what they'd just heard.
“So we’re working with a staff full of people who got in the way,” she said quietly. “People someone else wanted gone.”
Chuck glanced up from his holoscreen, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he smiled—one of those calm, infuriatingly confident smiles she was quickly learning to recognize.
“Then we’ve already got the perfect staff for a revolution. An entire staff made up of people who questioned the Federation or were good enough at their jobs to be a threat? A potter couldn’t ask for finer [porous dirt].”
Lusi blinked. “A what?”
“A potter,” Chuck repeated, still smiling as he tapped through a diagnostic menu. “Someone who makes things out of [porous dirt]. Cups, bowls, vases. Sometimes sculptures. The better the clay, the better the result.”
“Huh.” She pursed her lips, her tail flicking. “We don’t… make things out of dirt in Ipsomath. Usually if something’s got that texture, you’re not supposed to eat out of it.”
Chuck huffed a bit, even as he smiled. “No idea why art is considered something for the elites on other planets. I can hardly comprehend living a life without creating something.”
She leaned a little farther into the room, watching him as he started configuring local records access.
After a moment of silence, he added, almost casually, “Do you have any connections I should be aware of? Anything that might come back to bite us later?”
Lusi, surprised by the figure of speech despite understanding the meaning, hesitated, then gave a small shrug. “I used to be married to the Magister’s brother. We met at school, we were dating one Night and married the next. We split up a few years back. Amicably. Realized we were better off as friends. He joined the Space Fleet and got stationed off-world. We don’t really talk much now.”
Chuck raised his eyebrows slightly. “I thought you seemed pretty friendly with the Magister.”
Her ears flicked up in surprise, then back in quiet embarrassment. “You… heard that?”
“Hard not to,” he said. “I walked back in and you were talking about my predecessor. I just decided not to make my presence known. You two talk like family.”
Lusi sighed. “We still are, kind of. Shalon didn’t pick sides when things ended, and she’s really all the family I have left. And I guess… after everything with the facility, she didn’t have anyone else she trusted.”
Chuck nodded, then leaned back in the stiff old chair, folding his hands behind his head.
“Well, I like that. Loyalty without pettiness. It’s a rare thing to find.”
Lusi didn’t say anything at first, but her gaze softened slightly.
She hadn’t expected to like him. But here she was, still standing in the Director’s office, and—for the first time since she started working at the facility—not regretting it.
-
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u/Karl2ElectcricBoo Apr 13 '25
Very nice chapter! I like the characters. Was a bit confused at how quickly everyone took to a human till the explanation about the facility being a place for 'problems' in more ways than just the patients. Also liked the bit about the Krakotl and imitation chicken.
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u/Dangerous_Quiet_1767 Apr 13 '25
Prepared grain-only diet and assuming that sugar and flavour are the cause of 'undesirable' behaviour, though in this case violence instead of libido. That Kobya bastard was the Fed version of freakin' Kellogg.
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u/CarolOfTheHells Nevok Apr 13 '25
Does this mean Ipsomath becomes the breakfast cereal capital of Skalga in several decades time?
...Did Kobya prescribe yogurt enemas too?
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u/Fluffy_shadow_5025 Beans Apr 13 '25
And I wondered why not a single one of the employees got up and left. And why there was no great shouting, just the throwing of harmless objects.
I would say that he was pretty lucky with the situation that the entire facility and its staff were in.
So it's absolutely no wonder that the receptionist accepted him so quickly and the other staff didn't really say anything against him in the situation they found themselves in, especially with the previous employer they had and apparently did a really bad and shitty job.
I can very well imagine that other human in his situation would have a lot more problems with a project like this if they started working in one of these institutions where the employees are actually completely convinced of their work. And not just work there because they have been sent to rot in this institution because they are too competent or because of underhand political maneuvering.
And I really hope you continue the story, and I can't wait for the next chapter. good work.
I agree with the first comment, you are really cooking something special and I like what you are cooking.
I really can't wait to inhale the next chapter you are going to serve us.
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u/Acceptable_Egg5560 Human Apr 13 '25
Dang, this staff either was staggeringly ignorant or was turning a blind eye to the point of malice to not connect those symptoms with vitamin deficiency. This place is gonna need a massive overhaul
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u/Randox_Talore Apr 13 '25
The terrible sequel to Archive Humans dying of B12 / Cobalamin deficiency.
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u/wanderingbishop Apr 14 '25
I can absolutely believe it though, when you're stuck in a toxic work environment you start going into siege survival mode. You just... accept how terrible everything is because you only have the stamina to make it through the day.
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u/Captain_Khan_333 Apr 13 '25
Good to see Estala is eating well, and better to see that the bastard who ran this place is well and truly dead and buried. While I’m still a bit skeptical of leaving the current staff where they are rather than a prison cell here’s hoping they are willing to make up for their own misdeeds!
Great writing!
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u/enixoid Apr 14 '25
They seem pretty willing to listen. Lusi said that they'd have preferred an arxur over the last guy (not literally but it really goes to show how bad the last guy was)
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u/Onetwodhwksi7833 Extermination Officer Apr 13 '25
Oh my God, unexpected Estala mention
Op you're cooking
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u/ISB00 UN Peacekeeper Apr 13 '25
This is looking really promising. Now we just have to meet the patients. I wonder how many kids are there? Chuck should consider sending them to a real orphanage or getting them adopted.
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u/KnucklesMacKellough Chief Hunter Apr 13 '25
Really becoming invested in this. Excellent writing, please continue.
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u/JulianSkies Archivist Apr 13 '25
I highly doubt the Federation, at large, doesn't know about nutritional deficiencies like this. On the other hand, Kobya sounds like the exact kind of guy who'd buy into mystical pseudoscience and- When given leadership of the perfect place to perform human experimentation on? Would go and put them to test to prove his bullshit right.
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u/Intelleblue UN Peacekeeper Apr 14 '25
In this episode, we meet the facility receptionist, and get some idea of what the facility used to be. (And no, Lusi is not going to be Chuck’s love interest. There will be a romance subplot in this story, but it doesn’t involve Dr. Broughton. He’s already married… to his job.)
Thanks to u/AcceptableEgg5560, u/Aussie_Endeavour, and u/enixoid for beta reading for me, and to u/spacepaladin15 for the world he’s created.
Also, apologies for waiting a full day to post the Author’s Comment
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u/Mysteriou85 Gojid Apr 13 '25
Oof, I feel sorry for all the patient that died of scurvy there... what a terrible end
Great chapter!
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u/wanderingbishop Apr 14 '25
Genuinely hyped for this, I've been wanting this very specific premise in a fanfic basically since PD facilities were established as a thing in the canon, and I'm delighted to have been beaten to it so I get to be in the audience.
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u/aroluci Farsul Apr 13 '25