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damned_institute2011-04-29 11:07 am
tightsofmight) wrote in damned_institute2011-04-29 11:07 am
Day 56: Bus 1
Previously, on Peter Parker's Sucky Life:
Pain, pain, fourth wall bulldozing, fire and pain, and teeny useless swords.
Yeah, so Peter wasn't feeling so hot today. It was a marked improvement on waking up after getting shanked by Grell, but this was in no way a good morning. They had all made it through the basement trials and got their dinky rewards, but man did they pay a hefty price for it. All of them. (Scott and the others had to fight robot raptors? What the hell...) Peter rose from his bed oh so delicately and with much wincing, thanking whoever it was that carried them back to bed every night for putting him belly down on his mattress.
His back, oh god. Peter seethed and hissed and grunted in pain. It felt like it was scabbing over, and the bandages yanked at the tender skin with every minute muscle spasm, every move he made. Cripes. Better his back than his arms or legs, but still. It was going to make things so difficult if they got stuck in Doyleton all over again.
Brainy was so thoroughly wrapped in his blankets on the other side of the room that Peter couldn't make heads or tails of his current state. But he'd stayed in the whole night, right? He should be fine.
Sometimes he just needed extra convincing of that. Considering the guy's track record and all.
From the sounds of it, this Aguilar guy wasn't changing too much of the routine. Being field trip day, Peter had wondered how the new man in charge would handle it (or how General Lieutenant Burger would, apparently). If he planned on letting them out at all. The announcement squashed that theory, and so did the orderly tromping in with a second-hand change of clothes. The burly man passed him the goods without so much as a word, stomping right back outside to wait behind the door. Guess they weren't going in military gear.
...Orderly? Peter pushed the door open again after performing the hastiest change of clothes he could manage in his state, peering at the man. That guy was in an army uniform yesterday. He remembered him. His buzz cut was uneven and he had a pointy old mole on the back of his neck.
"Uh. Are you going incognito?"
He was suddenly on the end of such a pointed look Peter could swear he was talking to Nick Fury. If Nick Fury was white and still had both eyes. "...Right. Okay. Lead the way, hombre."
So undercover it was. The people of Doyleton didn't know this was a military operation. Briefly, he wondered what the advantages of revealing that to the townsfolk could be, but then he remembered how they'd all up and morphed into the living dead at sundown. Put to rest any usefulness they might have had. They were just puppets, the same as the rest of the creepy crawlies in this hellhole.
Though that did beg the question as to why you would have to hide your secrets from puppets in the first place.
He was bequeathed with the usual paper bag lunch and packet of coupons, though he was still surprised to find himself a $15 gift card in the mix. Intercom Dude wasn't kidding about that?
He had money?
...What would he even do with money in Doyleton? What was fifteen dollars and worth buying that wasn't a gourmet burger? Peter boggled at the card as he clambered onto the bus. He'd never gone through the town with any inclination to window shop, so he couldn't even say what was available. He might actually have to look around. Even something simple might be a big help.
The orderly-formerly-known-as-Private-Dwight followed him on tucked a pillow into his seat for him. "Sit down. And don't do anything stupid. You'll heal a lot faster if you don't agitate it."
Peter fidgeted, but quietly settled into the pillow. This was kind of awkward. "Um. Thank you. I deeply appreciate your concern." The man nodded, and was gone.
Peter was the only one on the bus so far. The emptiness was kind of creeping him out.
[Reserved for Harvey Dent. WHY AM I TOP POSTING EVERYTHING YOU JERKS.]
Pain, pain, fourth wall bulldozing, fire and pain, and teeny useless swords.
Yeah, so Peter wasn't feeling so hot today. It was a marked improvement on waking up after getting shanked by Grell, but this was in no way a good morning. They had all made it through the basement trials and got their dinky rewards, but man did they pay a hefty price for it. All of them. (Scott and the others had to fight robot raptors? What the hell...) Peter rose from his bed oh so delicately and with much wincing, thanking whoever it was that carried them back to bed every night for putting him belly down on his mattress.
His back, oh god. Peter seethed and hissed and grunted in pain. It felt like it was scabbing over, and the bandages yanked at the tender skin with every minute muscle spasm, every move he made. Cripes. Better his back than his arms or legs, but still. It was going to make things so difficult if they got stuck in Doyleton all over again.
Brainy was so thoroughly wrapped in his blankets on the other side of the room that Peter couldn't make heads or tails of his current state. But he'd stayed in the whole night, right? He should be fine.
Sometimes he just needed extra convincing of that. Considering the guy's track record and all.
From the sounds of it, this Aguilar guy wasn't changing too much of the routine. Being field trip day, Peter had wondered how the new man in charge would handle it (or how General Lieutenant Burger would, apparently). If he planned on letting them out at all. The announcement squashed that theory, and so did the orderly tromping in with a second-hand change of clothes. The burly man passed him the goods without so much as a word, stomping right back outside to wait behind the door. Guess they weren't going in military gear.
...Orderly? Peter pushed the door open again after performing the hastiest change of clothes he could manage in his state, peering at the man. That guy was in an army uniform yesterday. He remembered him. His buzz cut was uneven and he had a pointy old mole on the back of his neck.
"Uh. Are you going incognito?"
He was suddenly on the end of such a pointed look Peter could swear he was talking to Nick Fury. If Nick Fury was white and still had both eyes. "...Right. Okay. Lead the way, hombre."
So undercover it was. The people of Doyleton didn't know this was a military operation. Briefly, he wondered what the advantages of revealing that to the townsfolk could be, but then he remembered how they'd all up and morphed into the living dead at sundown. Put to rest any usefulness they might have had. They were just puppets, the same as the rest of the creepy crawlies in this hellhole.
Though that did beg the question as to why you would have to hide your secrets from puppets in the first place.
He was bequeathed with the usual paper bag lunch and packet of coupons, though he was still surprised to find himself a $15 gift card in the mix. Intercom Dude wasn't kidding about that?
He had money?
...What would he even do with money in Doyleton? What was fifteen dollars and worth buying that wasn't a gourmet burger? Peter boggled at the card as he clambered onto the bus. He'd never gone through the town with any inclination to window shop, so he couldn't even say what was available. He might actually have to look around. Even something simple might be a big help.
The orderly-formerly-known-as-Private-Dwight followed him on tucked a pillow into his seat for him. "Sit down. And don't do anything stupid. You'll heal a lot faster if you don't agitate it."
Peter fidgeted, but quietly settled into the pillow. This was kind of awkward. "Um. Thank you. I deeply appreciate your concern." The man nodded, and was gone.
Peter was the only one on the bus so far. The emptiness was kind of creeping him out.
[Reserved for Harvey Dent. WHY AM I TOP POSTING EVERYTHING YOU JERKS.]
no subject
There was a wave of sympathy smashing into Peter all over again. Harvey's life had to suck. And here he was, whining endlessly about a titchy old burn on his back. It almost urged him to say something, to try and figure out what had happened to the guy and say sorry for even thinking half this stuff about him.
Yet something told Peter an apology would only get him backhanded clean through the window. Harvey wasn't a hugs and cuddles kind of guy.
"Well, that's a bit foreboding," Peter muttered, brows furrowed in concern. "If each part of the basement is worse than the last and we're on the final test, then we're kind of...doomed. This is the last part of it, right? Only three halls?"
To his count, they should be on the last leg of the journey. Barring any secret entrances to be found inside the ballroom or either hallway (and he wasn't going to put it past Landel at this point), there was only one place left to go. As much as it felt like they were running the maze like the perfect little rats Landel - Aguilar wanted them to be, it was the single source of real progress that Peter had made in the entire time he had been here. Nothing else felt like an accomplishment. They were even getting little prizes for it; weapons for wishing trolls. The proverbial cheese in this maze of theirs. It was insulting, yeah, but...Peter was at a loss for anything else to do. He still waffled over whether getting to the third floor was possible at all.
Maybe after they finished this, he should start exploring the second floor. There had to be a way up to the top from there. Though he had his webshooter, having only two shots left made him extra hesitant to waste one on trying to climb up from the outside. Without his powers, it would be clumsy work. Even clumsier if he tried to take people along with him. The webbing itself wasn't a worry, being that it could replace cable while still fresh (the threat of it dissolving after an hour could be a bit risky, though). But it was precisely because it was so useful that Peter didn't want to use it at all.
He'd be a lot more comfortable with finding a handy set of stairs. Scooby Doo his way around the second floor, leaning on things and pushing aside bookcases in case a secret passageway revealed itself. If it worked on television, it would work at Landel's. Peter wasn't sure there was much of a distinction between the two in the first place.
"I still can't believe there was a real live Sphinx down there." Peter shook his head with disgust. "It's like he just flipped through the mythology section in a library and sticky-tabbed everything he liked. Nothing about this makes any sense."
no subject
He was just as scarred and broken as that damn clown, and the fact that he had to compare any part of him to the freak caused a steady pain to build in his chest. He tried to breathe it out.
But the kid was still talking, and so Harvey tried to regain his focus. He still had some sort of life to live, as ridiculous and dangerous as it was. He didn't know if there was even much of a point left, and yet here he was. "Yeah, we should be on the final stretch now. But seeing how it's a coliseum, you can bet that we'll come out of it even worse off." Maybe the others could handle a few more injuries on top of what they already had, but could he?
He wasn't going to back down now, though. Even if what they saw in that coliseum turned out to be horrific, he didn't want to hear about it second-hand. He didn't have much to lose in the first place, so why not?
Peter's last comment was the one that stood out most in a way, though. Harvey gave a small, mirthless laugh and shook his head. "You just noticed? Nothing has made sense since the day I got here. Anyway, it was as real as you or me. Don't worry, I wouldn't believe it unless I'd seen it with my own eyes."
Though he had to admit, even he was getting more and more willing to accept hearsay here simply because he'd experienced such a large amount of impossible things firsthand. It was kind of depressing, in a way.
no subject
Peter groaned. So what would they be fighting this time? A glorified monster? Lions? Actually, real life lions would freak him out more than fighting one of Landel's inbred Lovecraft homages. Monstrosities could be found in New York by the spades, but Spider-Man had never faced a jungle cat before. Nor did he want to. The Discovery channel made it very clear that engaging a lion in combat was stupid.
"You might need something sharper than your crow bar, then," Peter advised glumly. "Personally, I am not looking forward to another beat down after getting flame-grilled last night." Couldn't they just face the Sphinx again? Peter had very little experience with riddles, but he was certain he'd be able to pull an answer easier than he could throw a punch at the moment. But of course, they had to go and do the easy part without him.
Jerks.
He snorted at Harvey's retort. "I had inklings." Well, the guy was gruff, but maybe it had been unfair to call him humourless. "I've...well, I've seen pretty weird stuff in my day, but the wonders of Landel's definitely takes the cake. Nowhere else can you get shot at by floating eyeballs."
If you were willing to settle for eyeballs still firmly nestled in their sockets, however, Peter could just direct you right over to Mr. Scott Summers.
no subject
"I thought about telling everyone that we're better off taking a night off to rest up, but I doubt they'd go for that." Even though they really did need to lick at their wounds for at least a little longer, he doubted that anyone would have the patience for it after all the effort they'd put in to get those two miniatures.
He had to wonder what weird things the kid had seen that hadn't been at Landel's, but he was guessing he didn't want to know. He'd seen some odd stuff himself, but nothing outside of the realm of believability. The Joker, Batman... they were just nuts. In fact, his own gaping wound of a face was probably the most unreal thing he'd dealt with before this place, which was depressing all on its own.
At that point, though, the bus jolted to a halt as they reached the snow-covered town. It seemed even more like it was out of a movie with this weather, but as much as he didn't want to deal with the cold, he wasn't going to spend the whole day cooped up in the bus. It wasn't even that warm in here, anyway.
"Well, looks like that's it," he said as he stood from his seat and glanced down at the teen. "I'll see you tonight." Whether he wanted to or not, they were going for it.