Profile
Age: 24
Species: dragon/pixie mix
Race: Russian
Background: Born to Russian tourists who were stranded in California when the outbreak happened, Redrim had little chance at survival, and when an illness left his lungs failing before he was four years old, he was all but doomed. His parents managed to get him to one of the walled cities and plead with the entry guards to make an exception to the years long wait to get in so their son could get medical attention, they were told that the labs were taking in refugee children, but they would have to leave. He was taken in, and his parents are presumably dead in the apocalyptic wastes outside
Unfortunately, Eskaton Labs are not the benevolent organization they are believed to be, and are always in need of disposable subjects which are so easy to obtain from outside the protected walls. Redrim was one of many taken in to become lab rats for developing a cure for the virus, but due to his abnormal intelligence and interest in the tests they were running, he was moved to a training program to serve as another biologist in the labs handling the darker aspects of their work that city born scientists would be too likely expose to friends and family
He spent his life there, exceptionally intelligent and standing out among his peers, but still with all the rights and autonomy of a test subject. His wings were removed to make handling him more convenient, and he was addressed by his serial number until he proved his worth as a researcher. He lived as both a scientist and a lab rat, to the point where the roles blended together for him. He would examine and dissect and dispose of other people, while at the same time undergoing countless surgeries and samplings and all manner of live drug trials. Yet Redrim was praised for doing both well, and came to see himself as a tool to be used for the glory of discovery in any way that may be
Dr. Hawk, the head overseer of the lab that approved of his training, allowed him to be used this way since it made him a perfect tool that could not be a risk to security, but did not foresee his disturbing singular focus and lack of social tact to backfire when Red brought up an issue. He had found discrepancies in research that lead him to believe the Virus was man made, and “coincidentally,” that day Redrim was given an emergency test for the virus, and tested positive despite them having no reason to suspect it. Now infected, he had to be euthanized, but instead he fled the compound with some of his research and one of the genetically engineered guard dogs. He managed to escape the city, and made his way to an abandoned hospital a few miles outside of it
The town right outside the city, the result of thousands of refugees waiting to get in to the only safe haven on the west coast, turned out to be a good source of test subjects. He may be on the run, but he is still determined to find a cure and prove himself useful, and to do so he has been picking off people little by little to get what he needs for his research. By now the townspeople know and dread the thing that comes at night to steal people away, and only the guard dog who came with him knows that under all the armor and weaponry, he is slowly coming undone
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Physical: 5’6 and skinny, visibly ill at all times and never without dark circles under his eyes. He has various scars on his body, some from injuries in the field, but most from corrective surgeries or experiments at the hands of Eskaton Labs or his own. His hair is currently uneven from regrowing after he shaved half to stitch up a head wound, and he dresses for utility when he leaves his lab in tough clothing, utility belts, boots, a reinforced helmet and chest plate built to support his breathing and a device which lets him quickly inject himself with various substances. When in his lab, he keeps his lab coat and harness, but otherwise wears what can only be described as the only clothes terrible enough to be rejected from a thrift store donation pile. He has a red tail, pointed ears, a long tongue, sharp teeth, slitted red eyes, and small horns. If one were to look close, it is clear that he used to have wings and patches of scales that any dragon should have, but they have been removed, and the thick black nails are claws kept filed painfully short. Due to an illness as a child, his lungs are in terrible shape and he requires medications and an oxygen tank, and because of his current infection with the FNCD virus, he’s sickly pale and his scleras are a jaundiced yellow. He has thankfully few symptoms at the moment, but keeps a close eye on himself to track its progression. He is often (if not always) dirty looking. As a professional he keeps his work areas and hands sterile, but he is clearly greasy and with flecks of blood, chemicals and debris on him
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Psychological: he sees himself as not quite a person, but a living tool to further the pursuit of knowledge. Having been praised for his intelligence and work, as well as his body’s utility in research, he believes that the best he or anyone can be is useful, even if it damages them beyond repair. His natural neurodivergency that gave him an excellent capacity to focus on his work but abysmal innate social skills was only reinforced by a life of being pushed towards his research and refused any opportunity to have normal interactions, and now he struggles to carry a conversation with anyone but colleagues in his particularly gruesome field, as well as empathizing with others. He understands that the people he experiments on are upset and in pain, but his only idea of comforting them is his insistence that this is helping a greater cause and that their biology is interesting because that’s what makes him feel better. He genuinely cares for people and does not want them to be hurt or sad, but is so disconnected from how regular people work that he seems uncaring, if not outright sadistic. Red is also quick to submit to anyone who asserts control over him. Since he is subhuman in his own eyes and comfortable in that familiar role, he is happy to obey someone who gives him orders or even harms him because it was the way he lived in the parts of his life that he considers the happiest. He will allow or even cause any harm to himself that he thinks will further his work, or that he thinks those above him want. Since getting the virus, his mind has been even more twisted than normal. Between the memory loss, mild psychosis, and paranoia it causes, he often forgets that he is not in the labs, talks to old colleagues that aren’t there, and from time to time has tried to kill the guard dog after forgetting it and being disturbed by its heavy genetic modification. The guard is intelligent however, and knows to stay away during these episodes and to return only when he is back to his normal levels of instability. He has also gotten much more afraid of how the sickness effects his body, to the point of causing himself harm as he files down his claws well past where they bleed and removing any new scales that appear as they are signs on progression. There are times when he is very lucid. These are few and far between, but on occasion a particularly bad panic will leave him extremely aware that he is unwell and none of what he does or has been done to him is right, but soon enough he slips back into the comfortable ill mind that he has come to function quite well with. His work is never done, and even when he forgets what he’s looking for, the bodies continue to pile up
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