Though the trip went without incident, Edgar was completely exhausted by the time they returned. The cold weather had provided him some relief from the sweltering heat that radiated through him, but his illness still left him more fatigued than he'd ever admit. There wasn't to say there weren't positive points throughout the day, namely the part where he discovered that Natalia was still around. No, he wouldn't wish a prolonged captivity- especially one at the Institute, where specialized experimentation was on the regular schedule- on anyone, and while Guy had implied that her being released and brainwashed was the best hope for her, Edgar couldn't accept it. She had spoken so adamantly of her people! To be robbed of one's self, especially when there were people counting on them... unless there was a chance their memories could be returned, it wasn't much better than death.
He set his tray on his desk (how tragic that he'd been ill all day, and therefore without much of an appetite- the pink sludge had made a return), eyeing the box of possessions for a moment. All of his equipment- the scavenged goods, the items from Edward March's box, and the bag he'd purchased in town- were all present. Thus far, Aguilar had kept his promises. It was strange to think of him as more reliable than Landel in any way, though Edgar wasn't sure which of the two heads he preferred. The Head Doctor, while his aims had been mostly unclear, had seemingly given the weaker patients some form of a chance; the General was aiming to weed out those unfit for survival, and held a much tighter grip on the patient population. Personally, he found Aguilar's directness to be the marginally better option; however, he couldn't stomach the casualties that were inevitable with the military's methods.
In the end, it didn't matter which of the two was the better head of the institute. The patients were prisoners- no, test subjects for some project, running through the maze and giving their all in a bid to be allowed to live. All were pushed to their limits, but for what end? It was one thing to have soldiers and specialists battling within the building, but what of the civilians? And of the children? Not everyone was capable of protecting themselves- it left those without such training at a disadvantage if they didn't find safety in numbers. Then again, that might have been one of the aims: to see who would work together, and who would go alone.
They didn't have all the answers, but it was clear that both Aguilar and Landel were vile beyond words.
With no sign of Gren, Edgar flopped onto the bed in a heap, turning onto his back, making no attempt at feigned composure. Though he closed his eyes, he was listening for the door to open. He needed to make sure his roommate was all right, relatively speaking... or still at the institute at all. A rattled sigh escaped him; the frustration just kept mounting.
M16
He set his tray on his desk (how tragic that he'd been ill all day, and therefore without much of an appetite- the pink sludge had made a return), eyeing the box of possessions for a moment. All of his equipment- the scavenged goods, the items from Edward March's box, and the bag he'd purchased in town- were all present. Thus far, Aguilar had kept his promises. It was strange to think of him as more reliable than Landel in any way, though Edgar wasn't sure which of the two heads he preferred. The Head Doctor, while his aims had been mostly unclear, had seemingly given the weaker patients some form of a chance; the General was aiming to weed out those unfit for survival, and held a much tighter grip on the patient population. Personally, he found Aguilar's directness to be the marginally better option; however, he couldn't stomach the casualties that were inevitable with the military's methods.
In the end, it didn't matter which of the two was the better head of the institute. The patients were prisoners- no, test subjects for some project, running through the maze and giving their all in a bid to be allowed to live. All were pushed to their limits, but for what end? It was one thing to have soldiers and specialists battling within the building, but what of the civilians? And of the children? Not everyone was capable of protecting themselves- it left those without such training at a disadvantage if they didn't find safety in numbers. Then again, that might have been one of the aims: to see who would work together, and who would go alone.
They didn't have all the answers, but it was clear that both Aguilar and Landel were vile beyond words.
With no sign of Gren, Edgar flopped onto the bed in a heap, turning onto his back, making no attempt at feigned composure. Though he closed his eyes, he was listening for the door to open. He needed to make sure his roommate was all right, relatively speaking... or still at the institute at all. A rattled sigh escaped him; the frustration just kept mounting.