damned_institute | Day 57: Cafeteria

Edgar's charming company had raised Anise's spirits enough that not even the Head Doctor's voice could bring them back down. Besides, she was feeling pretty sure that Landel wasn't actually around. To begin with, it wouldn't make sense, and secondly, his announcements sounded suspiciously like ones she'd already heard before. While Anise wasn't very familiar with Earth technology, she'd seen the little devices in the Music Room that could play recordings of people's voices. This had to be something like that.

It wasn't long before Anise was escorted to the Cafeteria, and then to the section where edible food was being served. As she filled her plate with waffles, fruit, and sausages, she looked to the other side of the counter with a look of sympathy. It was hard to enjoy her own meals while knowing what the other patients had to suffer through.

She wasn't about to refuse her meals just out of guilt, though. Anise needed her strength for tonight. There was still a bit of a nervous twist in her stomach whenever she thought about what could happen down in the basement... but she wasn't going to back down. Not after promising her friends they'd go together.

With her tray in hand, Anise seated herself at an empty table in the middle of the room. She preferred to have company while eating, but it looked like she was one of the first patients there, so there was no one to sit with. Maybe if she minded her manners and tried to look her cutest, she'd attract someone handsome! Holding her utensils delicately, she began to cut her waffles into smaller pieces.

[For Battler.]

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Carter's bright grin and enthusiasm never flickered. "Guess it's a good thing we're all here together, then," he said. "I'd much rather just talk." War was war, you did what you had to, but it was so much better when they could all just have brunch together and get along.

Oh, right, official stuff. Carter sat up a bit straighter in his seat so he could deliver his resume. "I was a sergeant in World War II. I worked with this secret underground group that did espionage and sabotage work, along with a bunch of other stuff. My specialty's in making bombs. I used to be able to make them with stolen German equipment or chemicals, but there's nothing here I can really put to good use. I did blow up the Twin Pines with a molotov cocktail, but they built it right back up again so you can't even tell I did anything." He sounded vaguely disappointed about this.

"Yes, it's a good thing." Okita agreed and smiled, but secretly wondered if foreigners were a little too thick and that's why they didn't leave. Maybe they simply didn't realize Japan didn't want them invading like tatami mites in the rainy season. That would make sense, actually. They forced their way in and then thought they were guests and seemed thoroughly confused when their presence caused a civil war that was threatening to upset over 200 years of relative peace and prosperity.

Well, whatever it was, Carter wasn't from Okita's era. The words he used - sergeant, World War II, bombs, German, chemicals - were still foreign to Okita's ears and he had no idea what they were supposed to mean. Bombs he understood. A world war? Could the entire world go to war? That was a frightening prospect.

"That tends to happen. We watched several buildings burn and yet they were rebuilt with little damage. The same happens here." Which was both annoying and helpful at the same time. However, that didn't matter. What did matter was that Carter could make things explode. He could possibly help create things that could kill the soldiers upstairs so the room became more readily available. "What would you need in order to create bombs or at least something like what you used in Doyleton to ignite the Twin Pines? There is a room my group wishes to get to, but it is heavily guarded by guns and modern equipment that we are not used to seeing in the 1860s."

"That far back? Wow." Carter looked dutifully amazed. He'd assumed the man to be from Haseo's era, apparently he'd need to dumb this down a little. He put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

Of course it was always troublesome trying to make an incendiary grocery list. Bombmaking to Carter came so intuitively that he had trouble explaining the process to other people. "Well, a molotov's relatively simple. You get a glass bottle and you put something flammable in it, like gasoline or turpentine. Then you stuff some cloth in the top, light it on fire, and throw it. When it smashes the flame sets all the liquid on fire and it makes a pretty neat fireball. I used strong alcohol at the Twin Pines because that's all that was there, but I only had about half a minute and one hand to put the thing together so it wasn't very good in the first place." A small shudder ran through Carter as he thought back to that horrible night when he'd desperately tried to cobble together an explosive with shattered fingers and his own shadow lazily but unstoppably coming to kill him.

Right. Bombs. Happy things. Carter shook off his gloom again and refastened his bright smile. "Anyway, it's pretty crude and not that great at blowing up tanks--I mean, at big horseless wagons with armor on them, but it's pretty good with setting things on fire. Or people. What kind of equipment did you see?"

It was always so amazing to see people simply believe him when he spoke of his time period. To Okita, it was normal to think the world was crazy since he could see the proof with his own eyes, but he'd always thought others would have a hard time accepting him being out of place. It did happen on occasion here, but it seemed the more natural thing to do was simply...believe.

Carter leaned forward on the table and Okita watched him, continuing with his meal as the man spoke. A glass bottle and flammable liquids like oils or something similar was called a molotov - difficult name, but simple construction. Where one could find 'gasoline' or 'turpentine,' Souji wasn't sure, but he knew someone who might know. Asuka, Taura or even Yomi might be able to help with that. Or Yuffie if she were still around. She'd yet to speak up on the bulletin.

He watched as Carter fell prey to unpleasant memories only to grin like a boy again a moment later and wondered if there was something more to him than met the eye. That was fairly normal for most people, of course, but Okita couldn't help but ponder over just how similar he might be to other people. Did they ever guess what he was thinking behind his pleasant, unfaltering smile? Or did they simply take it at face value? He hoped for the latter. It made dealing with them so much easier.

"I believe we can find some of those things around the Institute," he said, following up Carter's explanation. He didn't know what a horseless armored wagon was supposed to be, but he assumed it was something like the metal deathtrap buses they had to ride in once a week. Setting people on fire, however? He understood that and could definitely get behind it. "They used guns, of course, but also this bomb that made a large noise and bright lights like magic. It didn't burn, however, and only made it very difficult to fight after that."

He'd still managed to stab the man in the head, however. He remembered that with more than just a small amount of pride. "Do you have any way of combating such a thing?"

Carter made a thinking frown. "I'd have to know what I needed to break. And I'm from 1943, they've probably got all kinds of new stuff I've never even seen before. A bomb that makes a loud noise and lots of light sounds kind of like fireworks, but that still explodes, so I'm not even sure that that'd be."

This requires a lot of thought. Improvisation was his specialty, and he'd made bombs before with chemicals stolen from the camp supplies, but it was at his best when they could get in some outside supplies. "TNT's really my favorite, though you usually have to plant it and then explode it from a distance with wires, or put it on a timer--that's like a little clock on it that tells it went to blow up." They had clocks back then, right? Carter hoped so.

Carter perked up suddenly, looking to Okita (Okita-san, remember it) with glee. "What about gunpowder? If I can get my hands on a bunch of that I can still make a pretty good bomb. I'm not used to targets that can see us coming, most of my work's with bridges and factories, but I'm sure I can work up a proper shell."

It wasn't just the bombs. He wanted desperately, achingly to be useful. That hug Claire had given him...he wanted more of that. People here could be cruel and rude, but there were ones who actually respected him. Even in the future, that was pretty amazing.

Day 57: Cafeteria

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My google history is very interesting right now.