Day 55: Cafeteria

[tightsofmight]

A night spent inside his room had done nothing to ease his jitters. Peter couldn't stop worrying. Over Brainy, what he thought of him now that he knew about what he'd done to Grell, and where he was going for the night. If he'd be safe. If Indy and the others would be safe, trucking on down to the basement. (Not frigging likely, considering 'basement' was synonymous for 'giant ass doom pit'.) If that ominous intercom announcement had meant anything. Peter had spent hours staring into the dark after that, his stomach churning his supper into butter over the horrific possibilities. Whatever punishment that arose for the food fight was a mystery. It didn't seem to infect him, unless it was a particularly trying case of insomnia. No matter how badly Peter tried, he couldn't find the will to sleep. Much of the night had been spent making notations and doodles in his journal by flashlight, peppered with long stretches of staring at the dark.

Honestly, he'd rather be taking another crack at the Hall of Hallucinations instead of rolling around in his bed. Paranoia was his only company the whole night.

Morning felt like a blessing by the time it came. He wasn't sure when sleep had finally overtaken him, but as he blinked his way into life he couldn't help feeling a bit...off.

It was really quiet. Peter's face scrunched under the light, and he stretched underneath the covers. There was a zip of cotton on cotton, and his shirt half dragged itself out from under the belt.

His eyes shot open. Belt? The covers flipped back, and Peter gaped down at his form on the bed. ...Belt?!

What the frigging hell was this? Peter jolted to his feet, patting himself down. He looked like some kind of air cadet. There were freaking epaulettes on his shoulders (was that even what they were called?), boots on his feet and a beret on the dresser. A single pin was nestled into the front, looking freshly polished as it glinted in the light. Peter snatched the hat up and stared. Two letters were inscribed on the pin. Nothing more, nothing less.

"SC..."

Special Counseling? Peter's expression took a turn for the frantic. What else could it stand for? He tried to run through a few candidates, but nothing stuck. Nothing applied so neatly without being ridiculous, because it clearly didn't stand for Super Cuckoo or Spider Cadet. Was he supposed to wear this like some stupid badge of honour? God, just brand it across his forehead, why don't you? My name is Peter Parker and I totally snapped a guy's arm for Mother Landel's. Hail the Smiley!

Peter pressed the beret against his face and groaned into the fabric. This was it. They weren't playing games anymore. They were finally turning this into death match boot camp and sending them off to war. Shit. Shit he was going to be in the frigging army in some messed up alternate universe, and he didn't even know what the frick they were fighting against or why they were fighting. If they were pulling magical whatsits out of every book and TV show known to man, then who knew what wacky threat they were up against. Aliens? If it was aliens, he was quitting. He was going to curl up on the ground hugging a grenade and pull the pin. Just no. No. This was not happening. This could not be frigging happening.

Except that it was. The person who whipped open the door that morning wasn't the affably sour Nurse Rachel, but a hulking, thickly built man who looked like he consumed a toddler a meal solely to fuel his pecs. Peter couldn't even find the breath to argue as he was told to tuck in his shirt and put on his boots and come to the cafeteria. He left just as another soldier brushed past them to collect Brainy, and Peter abruptly realized that in his confusion he'd forgotten to check if the boy was okay.

Too late for that now. Peter tried to match pace with the burly man, fumbling to put his snazzy new beret on and watching with wary eyes as other patients were dragged by. Things seemed even bleaker as they hit the cafeteria. The buffet was empty. The scent of food was lacking. Soldiers packed along the borders of the room so neatly you would think they were part of a particularly tacky wall paper. And worst of all? Buckets. Mops and rags and brooms, all piled in the center of the room.

The lady officer's speech was entirely unnecessary at that point. Peter withered where he stood as she told them their duty. It was like a scolding from Aunt May, if someone gave her a gun and a license to use it. Except the joke only made things worse - now he just wanted his Aunt. The force of his loneliness bowled him over like a wrecking ball. He might never see Aunt May again. Peter's gaze fell to the floor and he clenched his fists.

Was this it? Was his life really over? Escape never seemed so far away.

There was no protest from him as they were sent to work. Ashen and queasy, Peter stumbled towards the cleaning supplies and selected a bucket and a rag. He couldn't even bemoan his lack of breakfast. His nerves were making it impossible to even think about food.

They needed to get out tonight. Everyone. Somehow...

[Lion!]

Comments

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

Zack? Sounded foreign, but that was pretty common here. And even if the guy seemed kind of weird, at least he seemed to be telling the truth, for whatever that was worth. Promising he'd be working in Neku's place if he could didn't do him much good though.

He wasn't sure how he felt about sharing last night with the other people here. There was the obvious fallout to worry about if someone he'd try to Erase last night ended up being pissed with him (like that psycho with the ballpoint pen for instance) and even if that wasn't reason enough, Neku wasn't so comfortable talking about it. He'd mostly figured the guy would just let it go at hearing the night sucked. Most nights here sucked.

"At least you weren't trying to attack the other patients here," he said, letting the man draw his own conclusions from that.

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

While Zack was mainly focused on his conversation with Neku, that didn't meant that he couldn't let his eyes wander from time to time, and he soon spotted another pair of patients who were in the same position as him, made to stand and watch in shame. More than that, he recognized one of them as Lightning. Even though he was supposed to be on his best behavior at the moment, Zack couldn't resist the urge to wave over at her. So she had thrown some punches at the soldiers too? He had to admit he would have liked to see her in action, but he'd obviously been busy with his own fights.

He didn't know who the giant she was standing with was, but he looked nice enough. Too nice to be hanging around with someone as stony-faced as Lightning, for one thing. He wondered if it was that weather-named friend she had brought up before. Snow, right?

Though by then, Neku had spoken up again, drawing Zack's attention back to him. The comment the kid made was very cryptic. Was he saying what Zack thought he was saying? If that was the case, then he really had every reason to say that things "sucked."

Zack didn't want to assume since it could just be an off-handed comment, and so he decided to just address it as a general statement. "That's true," he agreed with a nod. "I've dodged that bullet so far. Not sure how I'd handle it if it did happen..." Seeing how he'd had to fight friends when he was in his right mind, not even being able to control himself could be that much worse.

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

He moved to the next spot on the floor, taking his time and appearing unhurried. The last thing he wanted to do was put actual effort into something like this.

But at least Zack seemed to get what he was saying. Neku wasn't proud of himself, not by any stretch of the imagination, but even if the same thing happened tonight, he couldn't be sure he'd be any better at stopping himself from doing it all again. That was the hard part. He'd been used and then thrown away and left to deal with the consequences.

"Yeah," he agreed blandly. "I thought I'd been flying pretty far under their radar, but last night would prove otherwise. I think I hurt a couple people pretty bad."

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Zack was pretty sure that everyone felt like they were flying under the radar until it actually happened. It was the sort of thing where you never really expected it to happen to you, even if you were just as likely to be picked as anyone else. If anything, Zack figured he was more of a target. He had put a lot of his time into learning how to fight and even kill when it came down to it, so he'd be a pretty good candidate. Choosing a kid, though? That seemed wrong.

Not that he was asking to be taken, but he was definitely prepared for it. Or as prepared as he could be, at least.

Still, if the kid was telling the truth and he'd injured some people, then that was proof enough that he'd been seen as both strong and valuable by the institute. It was troubling, but Zack had probably only been a little older than him when he'd joined the military. He was the poster boy for flying through the ranks at a young age -- or he had been, anyway.

"If that's the case, then maybe try to track them down and apologize. They probably don't blame you for it -- I mean, everyone here knows about it. But still, it might mean something to them if you take the time to apologize face-to-face, right?" That was how Zack would have handled it personally.

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

Apologize? Probably. Neku spent the next several moments intently scrubbing an invisible stain on the floor. It struck a chord with him and while he wanted to push the blame and say it wasn't his fault, he wasn't the one in control... it just didn't change the fact that he'd hurt them. Even if the sorry was only an I'm sorry you got hurt, there should probably be one. It just- it sucked and he was pissed and there was no one to take it out on except for the dirty floor beneath him.

"Yeah," he said after a few moments, with a slow nod of his head. There was a reason he kind of sucked at being the conversationalist. Usually this was where Shiki or Beat would pop in with a convenient change in subject.

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Okay, that wasn't the best response he could have hoped for, but all Zack could do was cross his fingers that his words had actually gotten through somehow. Neku was now just staring at the floor and more or less trying to act like he didn't exist, which only made Zack feel worse. No one that young should have to go through something so emotionally damaging. He'd been through his share of terrible situations at a young age, as had Cloud, and while they'd come out okay, they definitely had a few scars. It seemed like Neku was going to have some too, and Zack didn't like having to see it.

"Anyway... let me know if you need anything, okay? I might not be able to offer much, but I'm always willing to lend a hand." Even to a relative stranger. The kid looked like he needed a few people to rely on, and Zack almost had this instinct for taking people under his wing. Neku might not accept his help, but he could at least extend it to him.