Day 55: Intercom, Evening

[damned-intercom.livejournal.com]

Snow doubled in number as the day transitioned into the evening hours. Unfortunately, none of the patients were allowed the time to enjoy the weather changes. They were instead greeted by the telltale jingle of the intercom, signaling their cue to return indoors.

Once again, they heard the voice of a familiar female. She sounded unchanged from her previous announcements, her intonation as clear and as flat as ever.

"Attention all subjects and personnel. All subjects are to return to their assigned rooms for their evening meal. Lights Out will commence shortly after."

The woman paused, seemingly for effect.

"All personnel: you are to report to your stations. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

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[vstheworld]

"I'm pretty sure I already know the title of my autobiography by this point." No thanks to our old friend Mr. Fourth Wall, Scott thought with a wince. What had Other Matt said the title of his... his franchise was? Scott Pilgrim vs. the World? He could credit the vaguely unnerving extra-dimensional creators of his life (or whatever) with one thing at least - they knew how to perfectly encapsulate a life in only five words. "And anyway, I've still got a few things left I need to do to really impress my girlfriend. And that includes getting out of this craphole." As far as Scott was concerned, getting out of the Institute would be more than substitute enough for defeating the remaining evil exes. Gideon would be quaking in his cryptically-hinted-at boots if he'd had to spend a day in Landel's.

Scott watched Guybrush going for a box on his desk, and for the first time tore himself away from the dull gnawing of his own guilt to notice that a similar box sat on his own desk. Not just a box, either, but also a few longer objects that apparently hadn't fit inside the box. There was the burnt squeegee (which Scott supposed he really ought to chuck at this point) and his trusty aluminum baseball bat, as expected - and there one more object nestled between the first two that he didn't recognize at first. He shuffled across to the other end of the bed for a better look, and when his brain actually processed what he was seeing, his eyes boggled in his head.

"Dude..."

It was a sword.

It looked dull, even at a cursory glance, but a sword was still a sword, and thus a million times more useful than a bat. It was a broadsword, too. Not the kind of blade he had used most recently, but it still counted under his Longsword proficiency. The design was kind of Dragon Warrior-esque, with a chunky, fantasy-type hilt and angled guards. What was this supposed to be, Scott wondered. Was it some kind of reward for enduring SC? It was possible, considering they had already given him a freaking gold pin for it.

And then he saw the "^_^" symbol drawn in the faint layer of dust that coated the blade.

"Senna?" He picked the sword up gingerly, examining the little face. He couldn't remember exactly how big the girl's fingers had been, but they couldn't have been much wider than the lines that made up the symbol. Senna had said something about having more than one sword, right? But if this was one of those swords, then why was it—

"Oh hell no."

That was it. That was freaking it. There was a point where the constant piling up of bad things stopped dragging a person down and actually pushed them down through the core of the Earth, down, down, down until they came out the other side in a spectacular spew of lava and liquid rage.

"OH MY GOD. Guybrush, Aguilar needs to die, and he needs to die tonight," Scott declared, slashing the sword down through the air at his side (ignoring the fact that it was heavier than expected, making for a kind of awkward-looking slash).

Maybe he hadn't known Senna that well yet, but she had been a good person, damn it! Scott had been looking forward to working with her more, maybe getting to be better friends. But no. He wasn't going to get to see her again. Or Shinichi. Or Logan. Or Keman. Or anyone else they'd taken away. They were all getting shipped off to the front lines of Aguilar's War on Everything, or whatever the hell kind of battleground the Institute was preparing them for. Or something. Even if that wasn't what was going on, Scott was positive that disappearance did not equal anything good.