Firo Prochainezo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
immortale) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-08-30 12:49 pm
immortale) wrote in damned_institute2011-08-30 12:49 pm
Day 58: Arts & Crafts (Fourth shift)
Firo was glad to see the end of lunch, if only for the fact that in a few more hours, the day would be over. Night was the only time he had any real freedom of movement, and it was the only time he could do something worth doing, instead of just sitting around.
The usual soldier came to fetch him shortly after the announcement, with only a curt, "Come along, Saviano." Firo frowned, but followed him out of the cafeteria into the Sun Room.
He would have been fine with stopping there, but the soldier apparently had other ideas. When Firo stopped, he went so far as to grab hold of his shoulder and roughly steer him into one of the adjoining rooms, ignoring his protests all the while. The new room was full of round tables with various items like colored paper and paint in the middle, and Firo had a sinking feeling about it. What had the activity mentioned in the announcement been? Arts and crafts?
"What am I supposed to do in here?" he spat at the guard.
"Draw a flower. Make a bracelet. I don't care," was the gruff response before the soldier disappeared out the door.
Firo had half a mind to follow him out, but no—he'd wait a few minutes first, just in case he got shoved back into the pointless room. In the meantime, he took a seat at one of the tables, turning his chair towards the door and leaning his head against one arm propped up on the table.
[For Battler]
The usual soldier came to fetch him shortly after the announcement, with only a curt, "Come along, Saviano." Firo frowned, but followed him out of the cafeteria into the Sun Room.
He would have been fine with stopping there, but the soldier apparently had other ideas. When Firo stopped, he went so far as to grab hold of his shoulder and roughly steer him into one of the adjoining rooms, ignoring his protests all the while. The new room was full of round tables with various items like colored paper and paint in the middle, and Firo had a sinking feeling about it. What had the activity mentioned in the announcement been? Arts and crafts?
"What am I supposed to do in here?" he spat at the guard.
"Draw a flower. Make a bracelet. I don't care," was the gruff response before the soldier disappeared out the door.
Firo had half a mind to follow him out, but no—he'd wait a few minutes first, just in case he got shoved back into the pointless room. In the meantime, he took a seat at one of the tables, turning his chair towards the door and leaning his head against one arm propped up on the table.
[For Battler]
no subject
"I came back for a shift, apparently. As a visitor." He shrugged as he said it, but there was a stiffness to the gesture. Alle knew him as well as anyone here, except maybe Heine, so it wasn't easy to discount it as some trick of the institute. Compounded with the fact that he'd seen Artemis change over night... It was entirely too easy to believe.
Badou slid heavily into a seat, though he did grin a little at Renamon's remark. Yeah, sleep was dangerous alright. At least he was himself for the moment.
He shut up and let her finish. Some of this only confirmed what Tifa had told him, but you didn't get to be an information broker without checking your facts. The truth was often distorted, even when it wasn't intentional. And anyway, he hadn't seen anything in the way of a 'normal' military up close so at least he knew now that it all checked out.
His eye flicked up to the pin on her beret, but he shared her distaste for the new regime. Rewards. Great. And for nothing more than swallowing suspicious drugs that, at best, may have killed someone the night before. Not to mention the discord this was going to cause with the patient body. Depending on the reward, people could be persuaded to do damn near anything, and turning on their fellow prisoners was the least of it.
Badou's frown deepened. He hadn't gotten details from Tifa, but the coup sounded downright pathetic now. He'd heard Aguilar's name on the intercom, but that Landel hadn't even faced him before he got booted... that was pretty lame, and it didn't exactly boost his confidence considering how hard it had been to touch Landel.
"Didn't think the bastard would go down that easy. He's like a roach. What do you mean, heard? Did he manage to hack the intercom?"
no subject
A visitor. Was it. Her eyes shadowed visibly at that, too much of the time before etched into her mind. A visitor. So they weren't simply shells or creations. There was something hard lodged in her throat. She was finding it hard to swallow. She had understood, had never truly thought otherwise, but that brief hope that Rika was not really here... Was not really held somewhere out of Renamon's reach.... It vanished as a candle snuffed, and with the realization, emotion passed quickly over the Digimon's face and vanished into careful neutrality. She nodded, giving nothing more. "I see."
The subject at hand was far easier to focus on. Far simple to detail than what had slipped through her mind. Her head tilted a fraction; the side of her mouth quirked upwards in something less than humor. "Not exactly," she gave. "It seems he's taken to working with a former enemy. Or rather, Marc has taken to working with a former enemy. For Doyle's supposed protege, Marc seems to be fine with working with a man he was set to destroy."
That said, she slipped into details. "They were both on the radio two nights ago. Apparently, Landel and Marc have called a truce until the military is taken care of and are working together. Landel unlocked a door in the basement as well that night, which I'm having someone look into. But the fact remains." What was obvious should not have to be said. For someone to accept a hated enemy so readily to gain assistance didn't speak well of the man's assessment as an ally of the patient body. In Renamon's eyes, at the least.
no subject
Badou was relatively perceptive when he wanted to be, so he saw the shadow of emotion flicker across her features. He understood it well enough. It was a lot easier to focus on feeling sorry for himself than to think that every visitor they'd ever gotten had been someone once held in this place, long before them, and maybe long after. It meant that not everything they saw here was a fancy trick of the mind. It was real, and it meant that no one they had ever cared about was safe, and there was a good chance they'd never go home again. And that was a really fucking depressing thought.
He felt the sharp bite of his own nails against his palms and dropped his hands into his lap instead. You couldn't make any more negative revelations after that, right? That would be like dividing by zero. The universe would implode. Hopefully.
He let the subject drop gratefully enough. There were other, more workable developments to consider. He had never trusted any of the voices on the radio. Nothing personal against Jack or Jill or whoever. Hell, he would even buy that they wanted to take the institute out of Landel's hands. But he didn't believe for a second they were hippies fighting for the rights of a few magical lab rats.
He shook his head slowly. "Nothing brings people together like a common enemy. I've seen old blood feuds dropped in the interest of annihilating the newest gang in town, if they're bad enough."
He leaned back a little, making the plastic chair creak, his voice pitched low and even so it wouldn't carry. "The important thing is, they both want the institute. Chances are, if we help them eliminate the common enemy, they'll turn on each other again. Even if this is all an elaborate hoax, this," He made a vague gesture, but he trusted that she would understand what he meant. The military was everywhere. "Is pretty solid evidence of just how badly people want this place. They're dogs fighting over the best scrap of meat. Maybe there's a way to take advantage of that."
This sort of thing wasn't really his forte, but it was the best he could do. It was a start. Because this place had taken a lot from him, and if he couldn't take it back then, one way or another, he was going to tear it down.
no subject
What the man said made sense, and what Renamon had briefly thought. She nodded to him as he spoke, just as grateful to drop what she did not want to consider. Facts and theories were far more allowed, far easier to speak on than emotions or thoughts too personal. "I'm not denying that at all," she replied. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, though I'd be curious how the military exists as the larger threat in this."
Even saying that, the Digimon settled where she was, folding her hands together. "Maybe there's a way to take advantage of that." It was something she had held before, something she believed she might have voiced to Badou himself in the past. The institute and the people that ran it wanted something from them--and so the easiest way to obstruct that, was to find out what they wanted and deny then it. This had been what had seemed like a logical course of action, and yet, still, when it came down to it, there was not yet a pattern in what was wanted.
Here, it could be more straightforward, but there were still holes. Still places where their efforts might come to nothing. "There could be," she voiced slowly. "But unless we had a clear reasoning of what they're fighting over--other than this place and what is inside--the only way to do so is gain access somehow to one side or the other." A talent the Digimon had in the past, and could possibly use again if the opportunity presented itself.
no subject
"Good point." His shoulders sagged a little, but he his fingers twitched in his lap, itching for a cigarette. He exhaled silently again, and shrugged. "Landel helped build this place, so I suppose either way he's our best bet for finding out what happened to the people we've lost and shutting it down permanently. His man power's gotta be more limited too."
All speculation. There was too much they didn't know or couldn't confirm, too many ways for things to go stupidly wrong. And Renamon was right of course. They didn't know exactly what either party was after, and to do anything they needed some way to get close enough to have an effect. Right now, they were as much of a commodity as the institute itself, and little else.
Badou gnawed on the inside of his lip. "Infiltration is kinda out of my league." Which was a shame for a PI, really. "Don't suppose you've got any ideas besides 'play nice until someone picks us for their team'."
no subject
So it only came down to what Badou had already narrowed down. Renamon pursed her lips together in thought. "I have in the past, but it's unlikely that I would have the outlet for it here." Infiltrating a prison normally would require one to be on the outside. Finding one outside of it--or making nice with the ones in charge of it--would require more resources than any had at their disposal here. A different way, then.
...Except there wasn't much. Her eyes flashed with frustration briefly and she let out a breath of air. "...Exploration, mainly," she gave. "I have the means to get to Doyleton at night, and the basement is a secondary focus. It's possible there are clues somewhere to narrow down what they actually want from us, other than the obvious." Her expression gave that it was a goal considered minor, but in the end, her hands were tied. They remained powerless here. Even with the changes given, that wasn't adjusting.
/fails forever
Badou hesitated, absorbed in his own frustration, then nodded at her suggestion. The last time he'd been to Doyleton at night he'd nearly gotten his ass eaten by zombies, and something in the basement was so bad that no one seemed to want to talk about it. It might not necessarily lead to anything, but it was their only option right now. At the least, Doyleton had weapons. Guns. Who knew what the basement held?
"It's worth a shot. Let me know when you're headin' out to Doyleton, if you don't mind a tag-along." He shook his head. "I'd kill to get my hands on a gun again."
no subject
Two, then. That was two that had asked for guns within this day. Surprisingly, she cocked a slight grin in amusement. "Earlier, a girl I met requested the same. Maybe you should partner with her."
Teasing aside, the Digimon still nodded to him. "I'll let you know. If I go there without you, I'll keep an eye out on anything I can bring back. Large or small?" The terminology was beyond her, but she could at least view differents in style after watching them being used.
no subject
Badou choked on a laugh. "Unfortunately I'm taken."
He couldn't tell if Renamon had meant for that to imply anything, but even if she didn't it was so unexpected it was hilarious. "I wouldn't mind meeting her sometime anyway." He added. He was all over a cute girl who knew how to work a pair of guns or some other horrible thing he wouldn't say out loud.
The question gave him a moment's pause. He didn't work with a lot of people who were unfamiliar with guns, so he frowned thoughtfully, thinking of both his needs and a way to phrase them.
He settled on pulling out his notebook and making a few quick sketches while he spoke: a revolver and a bullet, a standard hand gun and a full clip of ammunition. They weren't perfect but they got the idea across. Even if he could find them, his precious Mac-10s were too impractical here. They went through ammo like Badou went through Marlboros.
"Small. And any bullets if you see them." He tore the page out and passed it to her. "That should give you an idea."
"And Renamon?" His smile was small, but genuine none the less. "Thanks."
no subject
Until the man started outlining what he wanted. She watched him closely, curious, then took the page when it was offered. "I'll look for something like this." There was a shift in the room, people beginning to move out of the room. Badou spoke once more and Renamon glanced to him. "It's nothing." She stood, taking the page with her, and then nodded to him. "...It's good to see you again, Badou."