damned_institute | Night 71: Intercom, Mid-Night

In the dead silence of the halls, above the quiet murmurs of its inhabitants, and the electric charge of battle in the Sun Room, the intercom suddenly began to broadcast without preamble or the telltale sign of static that accompanied most of the Head Doctor's snide monologues.

"--t part of gently did you not understand?" The voice began as if caught mid conversation. It was not Landel. In fact, it was no one truly recognizable. Some random young woman having a clipped conversation with some other stranger.

"I heard. But I'm more concerned about efficiency here." After a moment of shuffling against the surface of rock and gravel, something heavy hit the ground with a gritty thunk. It left the man coughing from something suddenly afflicting him. "No wonder everyone died of black lung around here... Let's get out of here before--Shit, what if this place collapses?"

"If it hasn't after all this time, I hardly think it's going to topple over tonight."

"Yeah, but--"

"Dude, it's fine." There was a shuffling of shoes over the loose silt under the feet of the disembodied voices. "They'll find it, toppled or not."

"You seem pretty damn confident in them."

"Well, if they want a better way to communicate besides pen and paper, then yeah, I'd say they'll come out looking for what we can offer." Both voices remained silent, but their constant shifting and roaming was still being funneled into the institute until one of them finally continued.

"... Think that's good enough?" he asked, though as to "what" couldn't be exactly ascertained.

"Yeah, I think we've made out p--" And then, truly, the intercom went dead once more. The strange message was no longer being broadcast.