damned_institute | Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

Despite the rough start and the heavier snowfall, the buses managed to stay on route and on schedule. With minutes to spare, they arrived at the gates of Landel's Institute, back to the waiting arms of the military. All pretenses seemed to drop at this point, and the soldiers again took on their patented gruff exteriors. Patients were filed out of the buses in an orderly manner, eventually being escorted to their rooms for dinner in much the same. There, as promised by the personnel, well-behaved patients found their purchases among their returned possessions. A few even found new faces, though whether they brought as much joy as bought goods remained unseen.

The woman manning the intercom seemed to have missed the notice about the day's trip as her announcement remained no different from the usual. "Attention all subjects and personnel," she said. "Lights Out will commence within the hour."

A pause.

"I repeat, Lights Out will commence within the hour. All personnel: please report to your stations. The General will begin his address once preparations are underway. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

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"Dude, relax. I got this all specifically for dinner tonight," Scott assured Guybrush, his expression easing up some at the pirate's reaction. "Besides, I also got a stash of some other foodstuffs from the pantry last night. We'll have enough to last us at least a couple more days." He had a feeling the sugary stuff would run out the fastest, but even run-of-the-General-Mills cereals would be a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Scott grabbed their water glasses from the nightstand and brought them back over to the desk, quickly downing the contents of his own before opening the juice and pouring it into the now empty glass. "So other than being busted for, uh, not-actually-theft? How did the day treat you? Like..." Scott knew it would be awkward to bring it up, but he had to. He gestured toward Guybrush's ribs. "You know, health-wise?"

With the seal of approval from Scott, Guybrush dug into their dinner, giving a thanks that was muffled by a mouthful of banana. He swallowed the bite before a second attempt at talking.

"I'm better than yesterday, if that's any consolation," Guybrush noted, gingerly touching his nose. "I think the swelling has gone down, but I still look like I went for a ride through a manatee's intestinal track." His hand moved to his chest- he winced as he gave his side a tentative prod. "And my ribs still feel busted. But hey, don't worry. I've taken way worse beatings than that. Not to insult you and say you don't pack a punch, but at least it wasn't a grog machine you sent flying into me. Couches are marginally softer."

He took a quick bite of bread, motioning toward Scott. "But what happened to you? It doesn't look like you spent the night relaxing."

This was true. Grog machines did indeed tend to possess more mass and sharp corners than couches. Scott gave a nod at that, glad for that consolation, at least.

Then he was asked about his own injuries. Scott put on a grimace for a moment. "Ah, I just got into a fight..."

The grimace was wiped away quickly enough, though. "An awesome fight."

True, the fight hadn't felt so awesome at the time, but in hindsight, Scott had to admit, it was pretty darn brag-worthy. "We were in the basement last night, and we totally fought a pack of robot dinosaurs with laser beam eyes. It was totally sweet. We almost died."

"That fight does sound impressive," Guybrush agreed as he crammed another bite of bread into his mouth. The best kinds of fights were always the ones that left the the participants with a dramatic and marketable tale for later retelling and publication. Receiving a disfiguring scar for added proof of being in said fight was considered a bonus.

He swallowed the mouthful, catching onto something else: "This place has a basement?" He blinked, vaguely recalling mention of it on the board, but not actually giving the notes much thought; however, if there were robot dinosaurs with laser beam eyes down there, then it was probably worth a little investigation.

"Aside from the death-bringing, robotic reptiles, what do they keep down there?" he asked. "Anything good?"

"Uhhh, let's see," said Scott, sipping on his drink and trying to remember the things the others had told him about. "Apparently there's a Sphynx down there? And something hot and burny, not sure what. Whatever it all is, the sections apparently lead to some set of mystery doors at the end, that could either be hiding the best reward in the Institute or the ultimate booby prize," he answered. "As you might guess, I'm kinda hoping for the first one.

"The entrance is a trap door in the back corner of the kitchen freezer," he went on to explain. "If you ever want to go down there with your own group, I mean."

Edited 2011-06-22 06:12 (UTC)

"Dangerous monsters, hot and burny, and a mystery prize at the end?" Guybrush grinned. "Sounds like my kind of place. Well, maybe aside from the dangerous monsters and hot and burny parts. It's pretty hard to regrow a beard when you've singed it off. Trust me."

He fumbled with the juice box- it turned out that hooks just weren't made for opening cartons. "I'll have to tell my associate about it when we go out tonight. She likes running into danger with only her sword and the promise of a sack of gold for her bounty. She's not exactly a pirate, but I'm sure she'd enjoy facing a life-threatening situation for the chance at a prize of questionable value."

Edited 2011-06-23 20:30 (UTC)

Scott went in for the carton when he saw Guybrush struggling with it. "Sorry, should've left the cap off," he apologized quickly, unscrewing the cap and setting the carton next to Guybrush's water glass (Scott had downed his own water in between comments and refilled the cup with juice, obviously).

He listened to Guybrush go on more about his non-pirate-y associate for a little while longer, and went on to encourage Guybrush to seek out the basement sometime with his own group. The two continued to eat until the usual transition to nightshift began. At least, Scott thought, he had something relaxing to look forward to tonight. It was going to be a nice change from the norm.

Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

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Sorry for the wait! Backthreads are back on track now!

Sorry about the delay!

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Sorry for the wait! Hope this is an okay way to end the thread.