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

[purgatio]

At least, here, the pieces could fall into place without a word more. Yes, yes, here it was; a person 'released' only to return without any recollection. How fun, maybe. It depended on the game. The other had returned last night. That marked him as an easy target, at the least, for Albedo or for others, but the boy wouldn't touch him yet. Wouldn't doubt him, yet. There was something of masochism in this--to see a brother that wouldn't fail a sibling seemed too far close to fantasy. He would wait and see.

"That was all you said," the boy replied in a bored tone, yawning and stretching his arms. "Like I said, it wasn't as if we were friends. I knew her more than you." He tilted his head, a half-smile on his face. "Though you don't remember me, so I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Albedo." And that should solve the problem of the lost identity without giving anything more. He'd try to remember now.

But besides all that, there was something else to touch on now. "Last night, hm? So what do you think you know about this place? I'll fill in some blanks." If it wasn't too boring. And if he felt like it. But there as no reason not to. Asuka's interaction had turned out well, after all; there was some use in being an informant if you went about it correctly.

[dreadofthegrave]

Nothing? That probably did make the most sense, but at the same time, it wasn't exactly very helpful. It didn't reveal anything, leaving no progress and a dead end. The other part, though, about Ange, still bothered him. 'Knew?' Past or present probably made no difference, but either way, he couldn't quite see it fitting into the line of events. When exactly had this occurred? ... He knew the events of that timeline, of that world where he'd been swept away, confined to whatever truth that was held in the catbox that would never be opened, and if there was room at all, he just couldn't see it. It... just didn't make sense.

For now, he ignored that, and focused his attention elsewhere. "...How well did you know her, exactly?" It was starting to feel a little more like an interrogation than a conversation, but what he was supposed to do? There were too many gaps that needed to be filled, and to be honest, he was genuinely curious where this was all going. ... Pulling up threads, seeing where they led. It could be frustrating, but it also wasn't a bad process.

"Albedo," he repeated slowly. " 'Whitening?' ... Weird name." Not that he had any room to talk, but it was in different way from his own. Still, it felt strange not to offer his own name in return, even if they had supposedly met before. "I'm Battler," he greeted, but there, he frowned. What he was supposed to say now? 'Nice to meet you?' 'Let's get along?' ... Neither seemed quite appropriate. He ended up shrugging, compensating for where words should have been but none were to be found.

Something in that last bit made him a little wary, though he couldn't quite identify what. Maybe it was the implication there, that something was definitely going on here, but didn't he already know that? Then again, there was a bit of a difference between suspecting and affirming. And there was something frustrating about laying out his hand when he didn't actually have one to begin with. But at least this time, maybe he could actually process things rationally, instead of whatever had come over him the previous night.

".... Nothing at all, to be honest," he admittedly a little warily. "The person I was with said something about a deathtrap masquerading as a hospital, but because of ... certain circumstances, I couldn't really ask much about it." ... He certainly had no intention of admitting he'd totally lost it, at least.

[purgatio]

If there was anything the boy expected, it wasn't a definition of his name. He stared at Battler for a moment, then broke out laughing. "Yes, you're definitely siblings. She said close to the same when I introduced myself." Was it Battler than Greta had learned from? No, she had spoke of that one as female, hadn't she? Maybe the two just had similar interests in that. He spoke his head. "It's not like it's my name by choice, anyway." He had a few theories on that, but this wasn't the time.

In all truth, Albedo was split on how to interact with this Battler person. His loyalty, as it were, bound him to Greta, and any siblings were seen as something lacking. However, as he had already thought-- He would like to see this, an example of how far one would go for a sibling that they truly loved. An example. Something like that. His expression sobered suddenly, eyes darkening. "Well, they were right, more or less. It depends on your weaknesses. There are monsters to prey on you, fears to come to life, and circumstances set to torment your desires and sins both."

The boy stared at the other for a moment, an unpleasant expression as he decided something. "There's something else," he said finally, looking a bit disgusted with himself. He helped someone last night, and here, he was doing the same. And for what? What gain could come from it? "People come and go here, and sometimes return." Sometimes. Not usually. "You were here before. A week or two back." He frowned. "A loss of memory doesn't seem to be uncommon, I've heard."

[dreadofthegrave]

"... Really?" Battler was surprised at first, but it was short-lived, and he ended up smiling faintly. ... He could picture it, somehow. Even when he'd met her as a stranger, there was something familiar there, about the way she spoke, about the way she carried herself, something in her eyes, that tugged at the edge of his consciousness, even though she was no longer anything like the little girl that he knew. It must have been the same thing. Family resemblance, or maybe something a little deeper. Even he could see it, but then, his perspective was far from unbiased.

He paused for a moment, letting what he was being told sink in. There was something seriously creepy about it, not just for the content, but the contrast between the feel of it and the atmosphere surrounding what should have been a boy. He reviewed the words in his mind carefully, turning them over, looking for clues. .... It was definitely disturbing, like a scene from a horror movie. And that being the case, what did it say about him, that it felt so familiar?

.... Maybe the familiarity made it easier to accept. Screwed up as it was, what surfaced wasn't a sense of fear, but of indignation. His expression pulled itself into a smirk, something dark and bitter around the edges.

"In other words, this is meant to be torture, right? ........ Heh. Sounds like fun." What exactly did they expect to do, then, break them? Ahh, that was useless. It was totally useless...! He may have overreacted the previous night, but in the face everything he'd experienced, wasn't that nothing at all? Even if this was hell, there was no way it was ever going to compare to the one he'd come from. ... There was no way it could ever even replicate the same kind of despair. And if he was going to think of it as challenge from them to him, then even the disturbing imagery from the previous night, even that unnatural state of panic he'd never thought he'd been capable of, just seemed cheap. Like hell he was going to be afraid just because they wanted him to be...!

The last part, however, gave him pause. Forgotten memories, huh...? "... So I've heard," he responded vaguely. That woman claimed to have known him, too, even though he was certain they'd never met. But she'd learned his name somehow, right...? He'd definitely never mentioned it. ... It was possible that explanation fit. Still, he didn't like it. Neither the idea of cycling through, or that he might be missing something important.

"But even if that's true, then what's the point? Is there some kind of meaning, in people starting over from zero? ..... In fact, that's true about everything. It's pretty hard to imagine someone doing something like this for no reason at all, right?"

[purgatio]

"Really," he replied, caught between a dry tone and something warmer. The energy was different to be sure, but the two as siblings was something believed entirely at this point. But the subject had shifted, and he was fine with that--the subject of losses was never something he wished to touch that much. And what was the reaction to a baseline of horrors and madness? Even if Battler was 'new', there should be something, correct? Or an abject denial, like Asuka. Instead, there was.... Something more familiar. What an interesting reaction.

Albedo stared at him for a moment, as if to see if the older boy was serious. There were a few things seen, a possibility of madness, and Albedo was fine with that. Fine with this one, in fact. He would play, then. And Battler could move in response as he would. The Variant moved a hand to his lips, a smile cracking across his face as his eyes lightened. A low chuckle moved between them. "Yes, that's right. It's a perfect game, in the end, no movements open and no escape, and only riddles to soothe your soul. A release is death or despair, and if you touch fondly, you'll learn exactly how things can be torn to shreds." His head tilted, his eyes remained on the other. "It's not the place that is the worry. It is only a prison in the end. It is what lies within that is only and always the only threat to sanity and existence."

But there was enough on that! Starting over from zero was a completely different topic and spoke more of hints of perfection. Albedo could understand this quite easily. He seemed to sober, though the uncomfortable smile remained. "An experiment, one might think," he offered. "Or breeding animals, without the aspect of procreation. Instead they can pull others from wherever they wish, and if the being in question turns out a way they don't like? Then disperse that piece and grab another from a minute before or later. Can you understand that?"

He sighed, leaning his hands on his knees. "They all but said it last night, if you read between the lines. They want something of us, and until they get it, they'll continue doing this for as long as it takes. It's quite simple. Like any other game." Albedo shrugged, an exaggerated motion. "They didn't like the you that had been here, so they reset you to try again."

[dreadofthegrave]

... There really was something unsettling about this boy. The words, the content, the feeling—all enough to bring about a sense of alarm. But even though it was seriously creepy, or maybe because of it, Battler's confidence held firm.

" 'Perfect game?' .... There's no such thing. In fact, if you were to call it something that like that, it guarantees one thing: there's definitely a probability of both winning and losing. If the outcome were absolute, would you even bother setting it up? ... That sort of thing isn't worth anything at all. After all, if you don't set anything on the table, there's also nothing you stand to gain. .... No opening? Doesn't that just mean you're looking at it from the wrong perspective? It may be true that the chances are skewed, and there's a much greater chance of losing, but do you know where a good defense is at its strongest? .... It's the weak points. The places they want to protect, because they definitely don't want you breaking through them."

That much, Battler knew better than anybody. In the end, strengths and weaknesses were exactly the same thing. Both were compensated for, and both could be completely turned around if you knew where to look for it. ...... It definitely wasn't easy, but if you could just keep reaching for that endpoint, it would definitely be reached eventually, right....? If he was being told that the best option was to give in, there was no need to accept that. There was no need to accept that at all...! He might not have been sure how he got here exactly, or what the true purpose was, but in the face of everything, it was only more obstacle. One more thing in the way from allowing him to reach the heart of Beato's mystery and finally put her to rest.

Of course, that could only go so far. What came next caused something to twist inside him, and though he tried to keep his expression the same, for a second, it faltered.

"Different times? .... No, that's not it. Different possibilities." It wasn't a concept wasted on him. Instead, it brought a very specific image to mind. .... Ange. Not the little girl he'd return to, but that girl from the future, the one he'd failed and left to spend her life miserable and lonely, sacrificing her own future that her younger self might have a better one. With what Albedo he was saying, that was only thing he could think about. The only thing he could compare it to. And if it were anything like that at all, then .... He definitely wasn't going to forgive them. Call it whatever they'd like, but these were all people, weren't they?! It was just too disgusting to think of anyone like that, like existences without meaning...!

More than that, the idea of being nothing more than a pawn, to be taken off and replayed until he performed the way wanted, seriously pissed him off. It was just .... unbelievably arrogant. Like hell he was going to be looked down on like that!

"Didn't like it?" he shrugged bitterly. "... Iihihi, that's too bad. If that's true, they're definitely going to come regret it a second time. They're definitely going to wish I'd never been here at all. Of course, by that time, there won't be anything left they can do."

[purgatio]

[ksjhfkjs notifs. T_T]

The other ranted and Albedo stared at him, a brief surprise gradually shifting into some kind of delight. Oh, yes, this one held potential, at the least! His hand clasped over his mouth, and he giggled giddily--there was something interesting here, and he hadn't seen that in a while. "Alright!~ Let's say you're right, then! Find the opening, sir, and I'll give you all that's in my power to know. Think of it as a game within a game. You don't even have to beat this one. Find a weakness; find that good defense, and that's enough. Realities mangle and shift--things aren't so easy to classify as one might think. I want to see, though," he said, eyes sharpening inhumanly. "What you're capable of."

You, who say you haven't forgot the sibling that was by herself.

...And yet, the next thing Battler said halted all of Albedo's surface thoughts. Yes, that... That was what he himself had considered, but had not placed stock in. Because there were too many inconsistencies that one could not just blame on a different time. It was only allowed in sense if one placed and gave an allowance to different existences, different scenarios ran to the fullest. "Yes," he echoed. "I do think you're right."

This one was more interesting than Albedo would have thought. The intial want was only from his relation to the other's sister--to find this one as interesting in a different way was altogether pleasing. Yes, he wasn't displeased at all. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and then offered only a pleasant smile. "I hope so," he said without malice. "I'd like to see what the power of your will can achieve."