Castiel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
freewill) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
freewill) wrote in damned_institute2011-08-21 01:09 pm
Day 58: Men's Showers (Second Shift)
By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.
The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.
He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.
Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.
A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.
However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.
[To here.]
The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.
He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.
Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.
A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.
However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.
[To here.]
I have a feeling Gant won't notice his own drug affects during this conversation... xD;;
"Been running into troubles, eh?" Gant's voice was a bit more cautious this time, not nearly so jovial and teasing. He didn't want to get punched in the nose today, even if he was fairly certain Badd would get the worst of it from the soldiers if he did.
Keeping at least one shower's distance away, Gant stole the occasional glance over to the other man, trying to mind his own business but failing. Whatever could have set Badd off so strongly? Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed. "... Kid troubles, maybe?"
Gant remembered meeting with Kay, and her claim to Yatagerasu. Maybe she had a case of hero worship to the extreme and Badd was finding himself in trouble because of it. Wouldn't surprise Gant. He always figured Badd was softer than he let on. Probably didn't know how to deal with having to play baby sitter with all the spooks about.
What are his effects?
Badd stood up fully, his broad shoulders raised as if to make himself look even bigger. Gant was about his size, but Badd had a way of looming that made even suspects taller than him feel like he was the largest, scariest man in the room. His twisted scowl was flashing teeth.
"You know the only difference between you and the scumbags who run this institute? Right now you're not the one in charge. You played games with people's souls and people's lives, and you're as much a monster as they are. Skye thinks you might be worth saving...you're not." Back in Doyleton she had mentioned the possibility of averting Gant's fate after they averted Byrne's. She thought he deserved a chance. After years of that ice queen act she was still too soft inside.
"I've got more powerful fish to fry than you." Badd pointed at Gant, arm outstretched, eyes steely. "But you still have no business walking anywhere but up the steps of the gallows. You're a sick, twisted man beyond saving and the justice system only has one legitimate way to handle demons. If you're still alive at the end of all this or I run into you in the hallway when the guards aren't around to protect one of their own, I am going to personally murder you."
Not for the Skyes, and not for Gant's victims. They were all past help. But Badd wanted somebody's blood as retribution for Byrne's torture, and if Gant was just as much monster as they were he deserved to die as messily. Someone needed to bring justice to this place.
He hears threatening remarks from the people he's talking with xD
"Don't you dare bring Lana into this," Gant growled, determined to meet Badd's challenge. He squared his shoulders and leveled his eyes on the other man's, though he felt that without his glasses they didn't keep the full effect. He wasn't going to back down just because the dog decided to bare its fangs after all that howling.
"You always did get too caught up in the past to look at the big picture, or notice what lies ahead. Look around you, you balding nutcase! We're not back at the precinct any more, and we're definitely not in any courtroom. You think you intimidate me, like some punk new kid on the block?" He was feeling a bit cocky, having survived last night's drug test and knowing he was likely to get a weapon out of it. There was no fear of running into Badd at night, and he still felt reasonably safe during the daytime.
"You damn vigilantes are all the same," Gant sneered. "You think you have the right to go around judging me? Me? I've faced the accusations against me, faced 'em and for that got dragged here! I don't have time to deal with the chip on your shoulder, or that Shou kid's strange fascination with me, or Land--Aguilar's damn mind games." There was too much already to deal with; monstrous creatures, phantasms, brainwashed patients, torture sessions, pink gruel. So many more important things than an old grudge that did nothing but circle back on itself.
The past was the past, and there was no going back or changing things. If Badd didn't learn this someday, he'd be chasing after shadows for the rest of his life, however long that would be here in the institute. Gant wasn't going to let the old detective drag him down into the nightmares in his head. Even if the ghosts were also here amongst them, digging the past up like an unwelcome reporter on a crime scene.
So...he hasn't actually noticed it yet, I take it.
Wait a minute, that name was familiar.
Badd smirked, though the expression was more of a scowl than anything good-humored. It had taken a few moments to work its way through his anger-charged mind, everything seemed red today when it wasn't turning sickly cream. "Oh, yeah, that Shou Niikura wannabe vigilante. Seems to fancy himself a killer, doesn't seem to fancy you at all." And seemed to fancy Badd a bit too much but whatever, an obtrusive fanboy was better than a knife in the back. "He wasn't too happy either when I told him what you were. I'm not sure which one I'd lay money on at your age in a fair fight, if it's possible for you to even have a fair fight, but I'd be glad to sell tickets to him beating the smile out of you."
Niikura adored being frisky and mysterious, so Byrne still wasn't completely sure how much of what he claimed to be able to do was true. In his right mind Badd would have tried to talk him out of it. Someone's innocence shouldn't be stained so young, and murder was too large a choice for a child to make. But right now someone needed to be punished and he barely cared who, or what the consequences would be for such violence.
Nope! :) He is completely oblivious~.... so far
Placing a hand against the tiled wall to keep himself steady, Gant did all he could to keep calm. Sometimes a bit of madness seemed to shine behind his eyes when under extreme duress, and it was sparking there again, just as it had back when he had been accused of the Goodman murder. Only this time he wasn't going to leave smiling. There wasn't anything to smile about with this kind of conclusion. Not at all.
"So you're the one..." Gant's voice was low, barely perceptible, but he raised it again, accusingly. "You actually gave out that kind of information to a psychopath like Showy? That kid is serious! And you want to risk him actually doing one of his suicide murders?"
Covering his eyes with one hand, Gant did all he could in his power to calm down. God, he was glad there wasn't any sharp objects around, because who knew if his bad habit of stabbing meddlers would have reared it head.
.... Fine. Things would be fine. He had a weapon (or sure as hell had better after that damn drug test) and he would use it when necessary. But he wouldn't object to it "accidentally" discharging if he ever saw Badd at night... No. No, he couldn't do that, even if he wanted to. He had semi-promised Lana he had changed, so he would need to do all he could to keep to it. Still, it didn't mean he couldn't get back at Badd in a more indirect way.
"... Suppose I can only return the favor, then."
no subject
Badd was still not sure how seriously he was supposed to take Niikura. On the one hand he was a passionate teen and it was impossible to commit a suicide killing more than once--on the other hand, there were zombies here and clones were only slightly less ridiculous. So who knew what the self-proclaimed vigilante was really capable of? Either way, it was to Badd's benefit that he'd pitted the criminals against each other. Badd leaned against the cold shower walls and folded his arms, chin lifted defiantly.
In a better frame of mind he might have considered the possibility that Niikura might go up against Gant and lose. Murdering a teenager was certainly within his range of abilities. But Badd could deal with the entire world burning down if it meant that the monsters burned with it.
no subject
As it stood, he didn't have a weapon here, so the balding ex-detective would get away. This time.
Gant found himself chuckling, and even sounded a bit unhinged to his own ears. But who cared what Badd thought now? Maybe Gant was a little on the insane side by now. Landel's kind of did make one start questioning after a while. "You're delusional if you think Showy isn't one hundred percent serious. And you're more disgusting than me if you'd risk a kid's life in order to get back at a washed-up old man for just a tiny bit of satisfaction." Some might have said that Gant was no better, but at least he had never threatened a teenager's life. Sure, he got Ema into a scrape before, but that was different.
Turning away from Badd, but not completely away in case the other man decided to do something crazy, Gant started to vigorous work on washing his hair. The quicker he could get out of here and away from Badd's presence, the better.