damned_institute | Day 63: Callahan's Grocer (Early Afternoon)

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Day 63: Callahan's Grocer (Early Afternoon)

Believe it or not, Byrne had read the notes. Eventually. It took him a little while of grumbling and huffing and being too much of a man to admit Badd had helped him out, but after some time he read the notes over a burger and fries at Tasty Burger. And yes, he had actually given them more than a few seconds' glance, and even had the decency to think them over carefully.

There wasn't much he could conclude from them, however. The notes were filled with several other nightly torture session cases, but they didn't seem to have any pattern to them other than that they happened. Everyone experienced something different; some got screwed up like Byrne himself had, some got physical benefits. One was actually happy with the results, and another had no ill effects whatsoever. And like Byrne was wondering, there didn't seem to be a cure for any of this besides modern medicine, and that was only a guess. One detail was interesting, though: the injected substances are most likely not made in the laboratory on the second floor. There was a laboratory on the second floor? Not that it should come as any great surprise, but wow. Did this mean whatever they used for their experiments here weren't created here at all, or just not on the second floor? Hmm.

Byrne continued to ponder this after lunch, as he wandered into the local grocery store. Just like last Doyleton trip, he was set on picking up a box of Swiss rolls. Why not? They were one of the few good things about this whole damned place, and they reminded him a bit of home. Only one problem: he couldn't remember where they were in the store. Byrne began pacing up and down the aisles, searching for those elusive chocolaty treats like a man on a mission. Oh, if they didn't have any today...they better have some today.

[free!]

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_{[Mind a vamp?]}

It was easier to pretend that he was bored, that the town was boring, that he had nothing to do out of boredom than to acknowledge his own rising anxieties. To be fair, Doyleton was boring--exceptionally so for a creature that was adverse to walking in sunlight--but it was also large. Large enough to keep Aidou from tracking down people, a problem which had effectively stalled his progress.

Regardless, there wasn’t much else he could do but try to find people and hope by some miracle that he stumbled across someone useful, like Sasuke. There was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do that wasn’t under staff supervision. Nothing that would help with his latest dilemma, anyway. The only other possible option was to sit back and wait until all the prisoners were back in one place before conducting an investigation, but the idea of having to twiddle his thumbs until sundown was like throwing salt on an open wound. Ugh, how had things come to this! Here he was, the hours stretching before him, and all he could do was wait until Landel threw him another bone.

Yes, much easier to pretend his lack of progress had to do with boredom.

When the wind kicked up, Aidou needed a place to hide out (having dirt blown into his hair just wasn’t worth the headache), and almost without thinking he ended up stepping into the supermarket. Was it any wonder? Food seemed to be the question of the day. His own hunger was one thing, but there was also the matter of other vampires. How were they getting their food? And the prisoners who were supposedly going to turn into monsters? Where were they going to get their food? By chomping on other prisoners? To be honest, the thought of the potential bloodbath put him off his appetite, but there was still a part of him that would forever crave the luxuries of home.

What he wouldn’t give just to have a normal, filling meal… Chocolate cake that didn’t come at the expensive of his pride…

The noble had little desire to use the currency on his patient card, but he found himself glancing over the junk food, anyway. What did it matter? The townspeople were going to give him their snooty looks no matter what he did--he was, after all, supposed to be crazy. A beautiful face usually garnered respect, but the threat of craziness marked him as anathema. There was another prisoner nearby who was acting a bit loony, stalking the aisles as if there was something life-changing to be found in them. Aidou watched him with half-hearted interest. At least one thing he could always count on was humans’ bizarreness.

[Not at all!]

Oh, there it was. Byrne finally located the aisle where dessert cakes and other cheap, unhealthy (but oh so very delicious) snacks could be found, and he walked over to it so quickly he might as well have been jogging. Then he stopped right in front of it and stared down the rows of shamefully good snacks for any sign of a box that said 'Swiss rolls' on it. It...was a task easier said than done, unfortunately. And so far, Byrne was having zero luck in his search. Dang.

Yes, he was aware that he was now standing near a young man who was kind of idly hanging around - obviously another patient from the looks of it. Not someone Byrne recognized, but that was okay. Maybe the guy'd want to talk for a few minutes, just to have a casual chat with a stranger? Ah, he'd ask in a minute. Right now he needed to find Swiss rolls!

If they even had any in the store today, anyway. (How could they not? Didn't everybody have them?) "Why are these so hard to find, honestly," Byrne muttered. Mainly it was to himself; partly it was in case the other guy next to him was polite and might offer to help him out a bit. Hopefully.

It didn’t seem to matter whether he was minding his own business or not, looking for a conversation or not… someone strange always seemed to gravitate toward him. He missed the light-hearted fans from home, to be honest. At least they were relatively harmless. Here, one could never be too sure about who they were speaking with.

To be fair, Aidou supposed he was one of those unknown variables himself. But he didn’t really have the patience for being fair.

Nor was he entirely sure the man was even speaking to him. He cocked his head, unsure if a response was required. The protocol for such things tended to get a little blurry when people were mumbling to themselves over snack foods. After a clinical appraisal of the other male, Aidou was fairly certain he recognized the face from day-to-day activities in the hospital, but other than that…

His gaze drifted lower, and what he found added a little more perspective to things. If the clothes and the general demeanor didn’t give away the fact that the man was a prisoner of Landel’s Institute, the rash on his hand definitely did. He had already seen one just like it--on Aigis, who was sick. What were the chances of two prisoners carrying the same kind of rash in the same place?

“You’re going to start drawing attention soon, you know.” Just an observation.

Hm? Was he being spoken to? Byrne paused in his search for those damned elusive Swiss rolls and glanced over at the stranger standing next to him, blinking. Yeah, he'd said something alright, and it didn't have anything to do with helping a poor sick fellow find the snack cakes he was looking for. In fact, what he said had nothing to do with, well, anything from the sound of it. Byrne was close to asking him, 'are you talking to me?', but the fact that there was no one else around and the stranger obviously wasn't talking into a phone (...not that any patient should have a cell phone to begin with, but you never know) made the answer to that question pretty clear.

So instead, the prosecutor would ask the next obvious question on his mind. "What do you mean?" How was he drawing attention to himself? Surely talking to oneself while shopping wasn't that weird. People did it all the time. It might cause a few people to stare, sure, but not in the way this stranger was implying.

Edited 2012-04-26 22:46 (UTC)

In Aidou’s opinion, anyone muttering to themselves while shopping was that weird, conveniently ignoring the fact that he routinely talked to himself as well. He was a noble. The man was just a regular human. There was a difference.

Aidou gave him a look seemed to say ‘duh!’ “Everyone thinks you’re a mental patient, so you stalking around the store like you’re lost looks bad. And if you look bad, I look bad. Besides, you couldn’t be more obvious about your rash. I could spot that thing a mile away.”

If one wanted to argue the point, the man wasn’t just a regular human--he was also a sick human. When the threat of sick individuals transforming into monsters was hanging heavy in the air, self-preservation dictated the individuals in question should try to conceal their condition from the more… aggressive prisoners. That was kind of obvious, wasn't it?

...Ha ha. Wow. Talk about stuck up. What was this guy's problem? Ah, well, just went to show that not everyone being held prisoner here was a friendly face, and if this guy in particular was going to run around blaming other people for them making him look bad, he probably wasn't worth bothering with anyw--

Wait. Hold up--what was that last thing he said, about a rash? He'd noticed Byrne's rash? Uh. Uh oh? The prosecutor did his best not to wince. So this guy knew the significance of them, from the sound of it. Was he sick himself? Or else he might have seen that note on the bulletin board - the one Byrne had helped contribute to, actually - which was an open post for any sick patient to list the symptoms they've been feeling. A rash on one hand seemed to be the one common symptom between everybody. But regardless of how the stranger knew about it, was his acknowledging the existence of the prosecutor's rash a good thing or a bad thing? Hopefully it was just concern under the guise of being an ass.

Resisting the urge to return a rude remark to the guy's non-rash related comment, Byrne crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "What of it?" he asked. "Why do you care about that? It's not like it's yours."

Considering that he had been offering free advice, the defensiveness he received in response was vaguely exasperating. If Aidou had intended to make himself a threat, there were far more effective means than merely pointing out the obvious.

The vampire’s expression bordered on flat. “I just told you, didn’t I? You’re drawing attention to yourself. In your condition, I wouldn’t say that’s wise.”

Yep, Byrne was still hoping that his theory of the younger man trying to be helpful while being an asshole was true here. "It's not like I'm flaunting it," he replied, frowning, being a little defensive without recognizing it. "Only you've ever made a mention of it to me so far. Besides, as far as I know, nobody's been trying to organize a witch hunt for all the sick patients." At least, not yet. And hopefully it would never happen, although Byrne wouldn't be too surprised if it did. Most people here were rational - that much had been clear from what he'd read on the bulletin board today. But unfortunately, you just never knew what could happen or what people were thinking.

Speaking of not being sure about people... The prosecutor stared at the younger fellow with his eyebrow still raised. "Who are you, anyway?" The question was asked without any hostility, but he wasn't going to bother being all formal about it like usual. Why bother with proper manners when the guy was being rude already?

Was he being serious? For all intents and purposes, the man appeared human to Aidou’s senses, which only begged the question of why a dainty human was so confident in his own survival. It would only take one super powered prisoner with an axe to grind to kill a human. Aidou didn’t have enough confidence in the sound judgement of the prisoner population to believe a few wouldn’t get violent if the infection progressed.

Didn’t he get that? Even Aigis, who could be as dense as a rock, had seen the potential peril.

Raising an eyebrow in return, he said, “Just because I’m the only one who’s said anything doesn’t mean I’m the only one who’s noticed. Or will notice, as time passes. Haven’t you learned how dangerous this place can be?” It was hard to believe the man couldn’t understand what he was saying. Did a vampire really have to lecture a grown man about playing it safe? But then, he was right--Aidou didn’t have to care. It wasn’t his problem. His only concern was dispatching the infected prisoners if they one day became a real threat.

If Aidou ended up killing this guy after he’d transformed into some hideous monster, well, no one could say he hadn’t warned him, right?

“Another prisoner, if that wasn’t clear,” was his answer.

Sigh. And now the guy was lecturing him. Trying to take the man's words into more positive terms was getting a bit harder to do now as Byrne's patience began to wear thinner. Normally he'd be able to brush something like this off without a problem, but that wasn't going to be the case here when he was already in an iffy mood and this guy was prodding at something rather sensitive - his illness.

Still, Byrne would try his best to keep a level head and not explode as he had nearly done at Badd earlier. (Although that had been for reasons completely different from now, but whatever. Both Badd and this guy were being jerks.) "Don't think I don't know how what this place is capable of. I simply have more faith in the patient population being filled with decent people than you are, probably." It might be a little idealistic, but it was better to have hope than not, right?

Besides - a grimmer thought here. If it came down to it and Byrne did turn into a monster? Not that the thought didn't terrify him (because lord knows it did), but it wasn't like dying from this would be anything new. He was doomed to die back home, after all, so what would be the difference? (It wasn't a very reassuring thought at all, though, so he quit thinking about it immediately.)

Now the guy didn't want to give his name. Fine. Byrne wouldn't give his either, then. "No, not like I couldn't tell that," he replied, smirking for a moment. The guy's wanting to be anonymous might be suspicious, but it might also just be an unwillingness to give identification to a stranger he's being rude to. Which was kind of smart, if that was the case.

Probably. But Aidou didn’t mind having the more practical outlook between the two of them; he’d been around too long to be duped by veneers of decency.

Wordlessly, he shook his head and shrugged. “It’s your problem. You do as you like,” he said even-handedly. Continuing to express his opinion to someone who would likely soon be killed or go missing was a waste of breath.

Still, he wondered why Landel had chosen to infect the people he had. What made Aigis and this man stand out? Or had it been entirely random? In the same vein, how many others was he going to come across with rashes on their hands? Perhaps tonight would alter the rules yet again…

Thinking about it only served to sour his appetite further, making the sight of the innocent human food on the shelf somewhat repulsive to his eye. If there had been a comforting glimmer of home in it before, it threatened to become homesickness now. Before his thoughts could stray too far, however, some of his attention was drawn back to the man when he smirked--mostly because he didn’t see what there was to be smirking about. The vampire’s expression turned vaguely bemused. The man seemed to think he was clever for correcting Aidou at every turn, but… what for? Aidou had been completely serious in everything he’d said.

All things considered, Byrne was drastically overestimating his companions attention to the conversation.

“Then why bother asking? If you wanted a personal introduction, I imagine you would’ve asked sooner,” he countered with all reasonableness. That made sense, didn’t it?

Oh good, hopefully that response meant the guy would get off his back now. Byrne wasn't up for much more of this second case of random somewhat-confrontation today, not when he had a headache and a sour mood.

Although, without him realizing it, his reaction to the younger man's words was becoming much like the one he had to Badd earlier; disregard whatever he was being told as he was being told it, but consider it in detail and (possibly) grudgingly thank that person for it later. In this case, the stranger was pointing out something sensitive in a condescending way, which made Byrne not want to listen to him now. That didn't mean whatever he said wasn't true, though - and it certainly could be true, unfortunately.

But for now...ahh, this was going nowhere fast. Why was the guy being so dodgy about giving his name, anyway? It wasn't like any of the patients had anything to hide. They were all stuck in the same situation and mostly all came from different places, so what could Byrne gain from it other than a name? "I might have, but now there's really no reason to." Didn't seem worth it to pester for his name now, did it? Not like he'd have a reason to talk to this fellow again.

Besides, it--ohhh. The prosecutor had turned his attention back to the aisle, and now he was lit up at the sight of a certain box of chocolate and creme cakes he had finally found on one of the shelves. Yesss, finally! Without hesitation, he grabbed a box and stared at it with a look of accomplishment; then he glanced back at the young stranger next to him a moment later, all glee disappearing from his face in an instant. "Y'know, there's also the possibility that nothing'll happen to the ill, and Landel just wants us to run around like chickens with our heads cut off," he said, as if the Swiss roll box grabbing had never happened.

Yeah, he wanted this conversation about illnesses and whatnot to be over with, and yet here he was continuing it. Oh well.

Mm, so that’s how it was. What a pain. First there had been Aigis drowning in doleful intentions, and now there was this contentious weirdo.

The vampire came close to rolling his eyes. “You people,” he sighed. “So sensitive over the most benign of things.“ Although he was sympathetic to their plight, as far as he could tell there wasn’t much difference between humans who had been unwillingly bitten by a vampire and the people who had been infected by Landel’s mystery concoction. Like frightened animals, they lost their composure and lashed out in any and every direction. The man seemed to being doing the same, seeing Aidou’s advice as some kind of antagonism.

But there was also the possibility the man was just plain weird. The sudden display of childish delight and it’s equally abrupt disappearance made Aidou frown in perplexity. Jeez, maybe he was more of a creep than Aidou had thought.

“An unlikely one,” he said curtly, with a glance for the other male. “You said yourself you know what this place is capable of.”

Even as he said as much, Aidou still had a look on his face like he wanted to step away. Slowly, maybe.

Sensitive? Byrne pouted internally at that. He was certainly not being sensitive about this, nor was this matter 'benign'! Not the introductions nor the illness. If this guy were possibly going crazy or turning into a monster, hell, he'd sure be upset about it, too!

Of course, outwardly the prosecutor was going to pretend he'd never heard that comment at all. He was quite capable of picking and choosing his battles, thank you very much. Instead, he was going to focus on the guy's other response. "Unlikely, but still a possibility. That psycho likes messing with us as much as he likes killing us, so there's nothing to say it isn't out of the question."

Except a more realistic viewpoint.

"Perhaps all he's looking for is an excuse to get us to turn on each other." Byrne shook his head. "And if that's the case, then he's underestimating us."

The vampire made a noncommittal noise. How had they come to be discussing Landel’s methods of childish entertainment?

“And here I thought you were just being strange. Now you want to hear my opinion on the matter?” he questioned after a moment, a touch of disbelief in his tone. That was certainly a change from when he’d been defensively rebuffing Aidou’s (most generous) observations.

Or maybe he just wanted to prove his point and clutch at an optimistic future. Could he blame a guy for that?

“If you want my opinion, half the people here are acting irrationally at any given time. Landel doesn’t need to lift a finger for some prisoners to want to attack you. Look, not that I’m saying you’re set to turn into a monster--that’s hardly been proven yet--but if it looks that way, you might as well have a bulls-eye on your back. Haven’t you ever seen a survival horror movie before? The odd men out are always the first to go.” Hmm… did it sound like he was trying to scare the human? When Aidou replayed his words over in his head, it sort of did. “But I’ll concede that you might not even be seriously ill,” he continued, course-correcting himself. “It’s too early to tell.”

Yeah, yeah, so. Byrne could admit it. The guy had a good point, and he was at least agreeing with the fact that these events might not end up being as serious as Landel was saying they might be. And no, it wasn't like the prosecutor had never seen a horror movie before. (Although, those movies usually involved a bunch of amazingly unobservant people who probably wouldn't last an hour in a place like Landel's Institute, so was that really the best comparison for this situation? Honestly.)

But was he really being so strange? No, it was this guy who was the strange one.

"I've never had any reason to think I'd be attacked by anyone here except for when Landel brainwashes someone to do so," Byrne responded, shaking his head yet again. "Not to say that people don't ever think irrationally on occasion, but isn't Landel everyone's number one enemy? Why waste time and energy attacking each other over something that might just be an empty threat? There's no point, and I'm pretty sure everyone knows that."

The vampire slipped his hand from his pocket and waved it in a dismissive gesture, shaking his head. Like he needed any more reminder that he was talking to a sheltered human man. It seemed quite obvious to Aidou that prisoners wouldn’t rule out violence against other prisoners--but then, he was someone who harmed his fellow inmates. Regularly so, if one counted his feedings as violence. His so-called attacks on the prisoners had been what had drawn Aigis to him in the first place.

Perhaps the other man was privileged, if he could live with no fear that his sickness would draw unwanted attention to himself in this case. Or maybe he was just stupid.

Probably just stupid, the cynical side of him thought.

“If you become Landel’s pawn, you are an enemy,” he said. “Just saying. Some people might want to head off an empty threat before it becomes something real. But don’t believe me if you don’t want to--as you’ve said, it’s your illness, not mine.”

It was an oddly surreal day. This, coming from a Digital creature, made for a bit of irony. Barnaby's conversation was oddly reminiscent of others', and the meeting with Brook had been just... Strange. And familiar. And it had left her in a mood she couldn't name. One that she was hesitant to put words to.

Instead, she went to the grocer's.

There was no reason, not really, but a few of her associates had spoken of wanting to go there, so if she came to Doyleton again at night, having a better idea of what was in the store was seen as a boon. All in all, it was likely the strangest part of the day to her. She had never been in a store like this, and the nonchalant milling people was a bit more than disconcerting. She moved forward, glancing the shelves.

[ Badd! ]

At least he'd made someone's day better. You could never stem the tide of evil, there were too many horrific things in the world to ever make a significant differences. Small things, though, little comforts and justices, those you could manage. Badd sucked on his newly acquired lollipop and drifted through the Doyleton grocery store, pretending to shop while secretly watching the patrons. What did he do when the cameras were off, he wondered. Did they think they were really in a town? Were they paid actors? Or were they just another one of Landel's illusions and had no wills of their own at all?

He browsed idly through the cereal as he nudged up against another inmate.
"Afternoon." He kept his voice quiet and his attention on the cereal box. "See anything interesting today?"

The person at her side and the voice announcing himself came as a mild surprise. The Digimon hadn't expected to meet with anything here, and while the man looked slightly familiar, she didn't know him. Perhaps he'd been around for a while; she could not say. However, here--

She tilted her head slightly at him, and then returned her gaze to the shelves. "Not yet," she replied casually. "Though anything of interest in this place would come more at night."

"Obviously. Still, would be nice to see some hole in the big act they're putting on around here. I feel like I'm in a TV show from the fifties." Badd replaced the cereal box and kept moving down the line, his casual body language completely distinct from his words and tone. "I've seen you around for a while, never caught your name."

He'd seen her talking with Byrne, more specifically. Byrne hadn't mentioned her so she couldn't be too significant, but it still made him curious.

Her eyes shifted back to him as he went on. The casual manner belied a different mindset. "Unless it's not an act, and they're as unknowing as the basic staff are," she offered. The TV show remark was something vaguely known, but nothing she could comment further on. Instead, she added. "Renamon. And you would be?"

It was nearly uncharacteristic for older individuals to be here for very long. For one reason or the other, the institute seemed to favor the younger generations, and as a Digimon, she both did and did not find fault with that. For this man to be here, she wondered; what were the attributes that Landel believed he could gain?

Chalk it up to his stubborn refusal to go away, perhaps. Certainly many members of the police force had also wondered what such an old man was still doing working the detective beat rather than ascending to a desk job.

"Tyrell Badd," he said. "Just Renamon? No last name?" Must be another alien.

This was perhaps the first time in the near month and a half she'd been here that she'd been prompted for a last name. She looked up, a slight cross between bemusement and actual amusement. "None that I've been given." She couldn't think of a Digimon that did have a last name, though the discrepancy had been accepted well enough so far.

Still, she inclined her head politely in a show of good meetings. Tyrell Badd, was it? "Have you been here for very long?"

"A little under two weeks. I'm given to understand that makes me practically a veteran."

Badd, out of nostalgia, shifted around the corner to see if the dessert aisle held any Swiss Rolls. He jerked back around again as he noticed Byrne Faraday doing the exact same thing. His partner's wrath needed to be handled in small doses and Badd refused to get into an argument in the middle of a grocery store. The jokes about them being a married couple were bad enough without looking like they were squabbling over calorie counts.

"You?" he asked, trying to pretend nothing strange had happened.

It had been so for a long time. Anyone that lasted over a week had a higher survival rate than the majority. She nearly commented to say that when the man went to turn the corner and instead jerked back into the aisle they were in. The Digimon leaned out, and took in the pair situated in the aisle. One was a long time patient that had been here longer than Renamon herself, and the other was Byrne Faraday. Renamon leaned back into the aisle, and replied to his query. "Almost a month and a half now," she said, as if nothing had happened. "Though you're right. Two weeks is longer than most."

She gave that a minute, then tilted her head at him. "Someone you know?"

"Nobody important." Badd began shuffling back up the aisle, away from his partner. He kept his pace slow to hide the fact that he was trying to escape. "A month and a half's pretty impressive. I don't suppose you ever made it down to the basement at any point in all that?"

So he said. She left it as it was. "I have, actually. Multiple times. Was there anything in particular you wanted to know?"

The trials, the sphinx, the locked doors, and the things unable to be spoken about. There was a great deal in the basement, though the value of it all was still unknown.

"A lot, but I've heard that you can't actually tell me any of it." He consulted a granola bar. "But if you can't tell me what's down there, maybe you can tell me what I should bring when I go."

He knew that when he went there he'd be unable to bring any information back except in his own head. So he'd been trying to think up workarounds.

She tilted her head. "Actually, that's incorrect. There's only one area that the people who go through it can't speak of. The southern-most door." Possibly the northern one as well, but neither she or Nigredo had guaranteed that fact. The Digimon idly looked at the shelves, placing her thoughts in order.

"There's two hallways to the east and west. East holds challenges in the form of a weapons range to take part in, and a series of four elemental based rooms to survive. To the west is--" A sphinx. Hm. "--A riddle to solve in one room, and I am sorry to say I don't know the other challenge within that hall. If you go, I'd only advise you to be careful. Have someone accomplished at combat in case of need, and possibly a medic, or someone that can function as one."

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Day 63: Callahan's Grocer (Early Afternoon)

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