damned_institute | Day 64: Intercom, Evening

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Day 64: Intercom, Evening

When the cheery jingle sounded over the speakers, the Head Doctor could be heard humming a song that suspiciously sounded like pieces of "Superstar" from today's movie. Then, as if realizing people were listening, he abruptly cleared his throat.

"Good evening, patients!" he greeted after a quick recovery. "I do hope everyone had a pleasant day. And what better way to end things than with a scrumptious steak dinner? We'll be including fries on the side, as well as offering our usual assortment of water, milk, and juices. Of course, we also carry vegetarian options for those of you who don't eat meat. Enjoy!"

The intercom turned off, leaving the nurses to escort patients to their rooms.

((Please make all dinner threads under this post with your character's room number in the subject line. For updated roommate assignments, refer to the latest Lounge Post. Thanks!))

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That question struck Loki as even funnier, and he laughed unnaturally. "Oh, and how," he said, taking care to the form the words so he didn't sound overly drunk. He wasn't certain how well it worked, however, and it didn't even matter at this point. This was definitely not his previous roommate, and any chance he'd had of making a good impression was utterly gone, so he might as well not worry about it. "I think next time they tell me I've a visitor, I'll ask to glue pasta onto a bit of card instead."

He rolled over slowly to try to get a look at the young man. Nothing really stood out about him, though Loki did remind himself that it was the innocuous ones you really had to look out for.

Or for all he knew, the young man was actually a purple elephant and Loki just thought he was a man, because his head did feel incredibly strange. "Oh, I like this not," he said, covering his face with his hands for a moment.

Locke nodded at the explanation. He still felt bad; no longer for being insensitive, but for the guy's situation. even if he hadn't known Heine all that well, just imagining the same situation with any of his friends from back home was more than enough to sympathize.

I get it....I'm still sorry it happened." He wished he knew what else to say. He usually wasn't one to run out of words, but it wasn't like it was impossible. He ran his eyes over the food and his stomach twisted unpleasantly telling him that dinner wasn't likely tonight. Next his eyes found his journal, the corners of pages bent just as he'd left them, that was a small relief at least.

He couldn't think of a time since he'd arrived here when he wanted the night to begin; he just felt like an intruder in this room and there wasn't a place he could put himself in it that wouldn't feel awkward.

That wasn't much of a response, but Guy could understand that. A situation like this was just going to be awkward for the person not involved, and he wasn't going to dump more of his emotions into the conversation now that they'd gotten the basic explanation out of the way. He wasn't okay with what had happened, but he'd talk it out with someone he was closer to when he had the chance.

"Thanks," he said, because that kind of sentiment was appreciated, despite the fact that it didn't change anything.

It didn't seem like either of them would be eating tonight, and Guy didn't think he had the focus needed to work on making his sheath either, so in the end he took a seat on his bed and fought not to wring his hands. It was so bizarre to realize that he might never see Okita again, and with so much unsaid between them. Okita had kept a lot of things from him, and Guy had to wonder if any of it had to do with his disappearance.

If he'd pried a little harder and found out what was going on with his roommate, could he have prevented this? Probably not, but the idea that he had somehow not done enough was still hard to shake.

"Did I introduce myself?" he asked as he lifted his head, dragging himself away from those thoughts. "The name's Guy." He didn't want to start over with someone else, even if Locke seemed perfectly nice, but he didn't have a choice.

Nina was guided back to a different room than the one she woke up in. She wasn't sure why she was going to a different place this time until she found herself inside.

There was another girl there, and two dinner trays. But the other young woman hadn't eaten, which meant... she had been waiting for Nina? Nina felt both gratified and slightly guilty. Hopefully, the poor woman wasn't starving on her account.

The size of the other girl intimidated her slightly, but Nina still found a warm smile for her roommate. "Hello," she said, softly, with a kind of meaningful gentility too melancholy to be called sweetness. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

"I can't say I blame you," Edgar returned, his mind thinking along similar lines. While he had some form of military training, Edgar knew it was no good if Gren couldn't reach the creatures. Flying beasts were always tricky, and without a weapon or magic to bring them to the ground, it was just better to stay out of harm's way rather than staying for a losing battle. He'd be no good to anyone dead.

He paused before his next question. "Was it just the nurses who changed?"

"As far as I saw, yeah, that was it." But he could guess why Edgar was probably asking... it was hard to forget all those less than welcomed announcements involving the state of the patient population's health and what was in store for them. Gren had been trying to ignore all that as much as possible. He wasn't about to get caught up in some sort of witch hunt or whatever it was the man in charge seemed to have in mind.

"Everyone else seemed to be okay, aside from having to fight for their lives, anyway," he added with a grim sort of smile.

"You've heard of it, then?" the Scarecrow asked, getting excited about the prospect of meeting someone who had at least heard of his homeland. Of course, hearing of it and believing in it were two very different things. Many he'd met thought it sounded too fantastic to exist, that a place with witches and talking animals and where a strawman could be king was somehow out of the realm of believability. With his short life in Oz and his time at Landel's as his only experiences, the Scarecrow had no real basis for comparison of what could and couldn't possibly be.

Others had heard of the name, but thought it was all a part of the movie and only existed there. He had to admit that the one he'd seen certainly had been a good imitation of the real thing, but the very concept of people not believing Dorothy's story when she came back home didn't sit well with him at all. It may have been true that it showed people what Oz was like, but why make it all seem like some figment of her imagination? That her adventures and the friends she'd made weren't real? Had he not been told otherwise, he'd have wondered if the whole movie was something Wizard Landel concocted, some kind of elaborate ruse much like the Great and Powerful Oz had been. It certainly sounded like one of his plans.

Skulduggery was silent again as he tried to figure out how to respond. I've heard of the movie didn't really seem like the best way to proceed, especially if this guy really was the Scarecrow. Did he know he came from a movie? Or a book, possibly? Did his very existence mean that all works of fiction had their own alternate reality somewhere?

This was very, very strange. Not quite taking-on-three-dark-gods-at-once strange, but it came quite close. It was certainly the most interesting of everything Skulduggery had learned so far.

"Yes," he finally answered, opting for the safe answer. "It sounds like a nice place." Different versions of the story described everything in different ways, so he wasn't quite sure what else to say. "Only accessible by balloon or house-carrying twisters, I hear. Of course, this makes my first question more important. What language am I speaking?"

Though a smile crossed his face immediately as Skulduggery so perfectly described Oz— including how to get there as Dorothy had, which was something the Scarecrow filed away to ask about later— it faded with the confusion that colored him.

"Language?" That was right- Skulduggery had asked that, hadn't he? The Scarecrow had to admit he'd never really put any thought into what tongue he was speaking, or even how he'd learned it in the first place, given he didn't have a brain at that time. He'd just simply known. "I don't know, to be honest. The one I can understand, though I haven't met a person here I couldn't."

Alright, that fell in line with what Yomi had said. And while the original movie was in English, the actual language spoken in Oz had never really been made clear. Some kind of fantasy language, presumably. There had never really been a reason to think about it until now.

"You probably have a brain here." Skulduggery glanced back down at the steak in front of him, and then finally pushed it away with a sigh. He didn't really feel like attempting to eat it when swallowing some tea had nearly killed him. "I do, and I didn't before."

Speaking of brains, the headache that had plagued him all day was gone. The realization caused an instinctive rubbing of his temples, which somehow gave him an idea. "Do you understand this?" he asked in French.

"Good."

And that was good news... for the moment, anyway. He pulled his bag from his closet, pushing a few things inside; he left it mostly empty, as he wasn't entirely sure of the plans for the evening. There was never any knowing, truly- not when Landel always had a surprise or two up his sleeve. He knew that he was meeting Ryuuzaki- along with their mutual friend, which he assumed meant Nina. He couldn't be sure of the connection between the two of them or why Ryuuzaki had invited her along so soon. Perhaps he knew her from his world, or he saw some potential in her. Either way, it wasn't like him to invite someone without a good reason.

Worry crossed him, coloring his features minutely. As much as he knew he needed to keep his word and make the meeting, he couldn't help but wonder if he ought to be looking after Locke that night. It was true that his friend was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but with the infection and each bit of news about it becoming more and more ominous as the days went on, he couldn't help the concern that nagged at him. Tomorrow, he told himself. He'd get a hold of him then. For all he knew, Landel's cryptic messages weren't just a bluff to start a witch hunt. Ultimately, he needed to be prepared in the event the worst came to pass.

"I've got to say that all this talk of this... infection is wearing on me," he admitted, knowing he needed to get some of the weight off his chest.

"They're pushing that pretty hard, aren't they?" He agreed. And 'pushing' seemed like the right word. There was nothing subtle about the psychological warfare going on there, which honestly made Gren wonder why they were doing it at all. Were they that afraid of the institute's prisoners working in unison that they had to play their hand so obviously?

"I'm not buying it. Whatever's going on, they clearly caused it, so pointing fingers at each other over it is pointless." If it truly became a matter of life or death, well. He'd see how things shook out, in that case. But for the time being, he wasn't about to take part in the games the head doctor was clearly trying to play.

"Agreed..." Edgar said, pausing in his work to glance over his shoulder. "Though I'm not sure all of the patients will feel the same way. It's hard enough getting people to work together when we're all being held captive as it is. I can't help but wonder what will happen if Landel isn't bluffing, and if some of us really are becoming monsters. Worse yet would be if our friends are afflicted..."

He sighed, knowing he was perhaps sharing too much, but he trusted Gren- the man had saved his life, after all. He was the private sort, but they were ultimately on the same side. At least he wasn't likely to share the information. He knew he held the same kind of confidenc for Ryuuzaki, but there were times he wasn't willing to divulge everything to the man, especially when it came to his friends. They were not just resources to be used, as Edgar felt Ryuuzaki saw people at times. He certainly acted like it.

The events of last night were such a blur that for a moment, the Doctor wasn't sure how to answer. He sat, inspecting his dinner briefly—the steak looked rather nice—before looking at Byrne once more.

"Well, same as you, really: I'm still in one piece, and that's something," he answered, managing a smile. "But I'd be just as happy not to repeat the experience."

If he were to admit it to himself, last night hadn't been that bad—dangerous, sure, but exciting nonetheless (once he'd made sure Donna was safe). He'd gotten out of it alright, Donna had, and Byrne had, but they were just a fraction of those who'd been thrust into the same situation. Had everyone gotten through? Had some people been injured? Were some maybe even dead?

Maybe thinking about Brainiac 5 was the better choice after all—marginally. "Though all things considered, I'm not sure which was worse: last night, or today."

"Oh, I know I have a brain here," he replied quietly, a hint of nervousness coloring his tone. He scratched at his arm again, wondering why it rattled him so- it had been a long time since the night they took him for his sleep study, and ages since he'd concerned himself over the clever little thing they'd implanted into his human brain. Perhaps it was Depth Charge's disappearance that renewed his discomfort with the entire event- his roommate had come to his rescue, after all. Then again, it might have been the illness his nurse kept telling him about. She did make it sound like whatever was wrong with his body was affecting his mind.

He was distracted until Skulduggery spoke again, this time in something he didn't understand at all. "I beg your pardon?"

"There are a few people who are probably only looking out for themselves, yeah." That was the unfortunate nature of people in general. Not everyone was interested in being much of a team player, though he personally found it foolish in situations like these.

"I don't know," he admitted, running a hand though his hair in frustration. "We do what we have to, I guess. It depends on if it's permanent or not." He wasn't that close to many people, and he hoped it wasn't something he would have to worry about, but he'd do whatever he had to if that situation arose.

Today? Today was bad? Not for Byrne, it hadn't been - or, well, it was bad, but it could have been worse. He still felt like shit and one guy he...sort of knew had been 'released' from the Institute, but it wasn't like beastly horrors had happened at lunch or anything. Definitely wasn't as bad as last night, not by a long shot.

So why would the Doctor be saying it was bad? Had Byrne missed something?

"What do you mean?" The prosecutor's polite smile changed to a mixed look of confusion and concern. "I didn't think there was much that could be worse than last night." Especially since another patient was mostly to blame for what happened. And those nurses, the birds, those dead bodies in the entry way--! It made him shudder just thinking about it.

"Well, I say 'worse'... It's is really all a matter of perspective, isn't it? It depends on whether you prefer danger or—..." The Doctor looked away from Byrne, staring at his steak for a few seconds before tilting his head up. "I had a... a visitor."

The Doctor wondered if he should elaborate. Surely Byrne had at least heard mention of the visitors—maybe even gotten one himself—but... Well...

He sniffed, and suddenly his demeanour was far more chipper than a moment ago. "Still, I suppose last night was the worse of the two after all—a lot of people could have been hurt. At least today was safer for everyone." Even if it may not have been safer for the heart.

Edited 2012-07-09 13:06 (UTC)

A visitor? There's something Byrne hadn't heard about in a little while. Not since...wow, since the first and last time he'd spoken to Zex. And then the time before that was when he'd talked to Dr. McCoy about his daughter. Now the Doctor was mentioning it, too? (So only his roommates had ever had visitors that he could remember at the moment. Huh. Strange coincidence.)

"You, too?" the prosecutor asked; the concern was even more obvious on his face now. "I mean, I've never had one, but you're the third person I've talked to who's brought it up before." And even still, Byrne didn't know too much about them, or why they were around. What he did know seemed kind of fishy, though. Why would Landel bother bringing brainwashed familiar people here and then not keep them prisoner like everyone else?

Then again, why did Landel bother doing this mental hospital cover-up to begin with? When everyone here knew exactly what was going on?

Well. Digressing. Byrne could agree with the Doctor's other sentiment; both sounded quite bad, the visitor and last night, but last night meant everyone was in danger. A visitor just meant one person was screwed with. Didn't mean it didn't suck, but at least it wasn't lethal to them.

Edgar tried swallowing a bite of his dinner, but found it wouldn't settle in his stomach; the thought of one of his closest friends permanently becoming a monster had worn on him. It had crossed his mind enough already, but to hear it aloud made it much more real somehow.

"Do what we have to do..." he repeated with a sigh. He never liked the sound of that, but knew Gren was right. Worse was that if he didn't do something in the event Locke was transformed into a beast, he'd be doing them both a disservice, especially if his friend lost his mind as the nurses did and attacked someone. Locke wouldn't stand for innocents to be hurt, and neither would he.

Do what they had to do. Sometimes, there was no way to make the best of a bad situation. There was only the unfortunate position of controlling the damage as best as one could.

"I suppose we'll see," Edgar said quietly, his tone taking a turn for the grim.

"Is that what the doctors told you?" Skulduggery asked, his head cocked to one side. "Or did they show you?" Would there be x-ray machines or MRI's in a mental hospital? It wasn't a particularly important question; he could feel the organs inside him, even without the confirmation of medical photographs. But if there was any kind of clinic in the building, it would be worth looking into later. Just like the morgue, it might hold the secret to how he was brought back to life.

There were many times, upon setting out to try something, when Skulduggery didn't quite know what he was expecting until it actually came to pass. The Scarecrow's answer to his question was one of them. "Never mind," he answered with what he hoped was a smile. "Just testing a theory." He stood up, walked over to the bed, and sat down with one arm stretched straight out in front of him.

On the surface, making sure everyone understood each other seemed simple enough, but Landel seemed to be twisting it into something more complicated than it needed to be. The Scarecrow understood his English, but not his French - or probably most other languages. If Skulduggery had spoken French to Yomi, would she have understood?

"For what it's worth, I hope it all turns out for the best," he replied. He could tell by Edgar's demeanor that this was about more than just the overarching issue of patients being infected with something against their will. It was more personal than that, and he could only hope that whoever it was that his roommate was worrying about would be okay. He knew how hard it would be for him in that position, and could only consider himself fortunate that he wasn't forced to deal with it directly.

With dinner came an unexpected surprise: "You're changing rooms today, Joshua!"

It wasn't the first time he'd changed rooms, but unlike Muraki (whom he'd never seen again afterwards) Izaya was sure he'd seen Ryuuzaki even after waking this morning—so the reassignment couldn't have been due to his former roommate's removal (unless, of course, it had happened just this afternoon). Or, perhaps, Ryuuzaki wasn't to be a "former" roommate at all; there was also the possibility that they'd simply been moved as a pair to a different room.

His arrival at the new room proved that false. There, lying on one of the two beds, was the hulking form of one Snow Villiers.

How interesting.

Izaya barely acknowledged the departure of the nurse, so fixated on his new roommate was he. Was there a reason for this change? Not for losing Ryuuzaki's daily company, but for gaining Snow's. True, he'd taken an especial interest in observing Snow, but had that in turn been taken note of by the staff? Had this been arranged because of it? Did it have anything to do with Snow's little escapade yesterday?

After a moment, Izaya took a seat at his desk, eyes fixed still on Villiers. Really, he couldn't help but feel this was a peculiar turn of events—and one he could remark upon later, if the man awoke. For now, he had no intention of rousing the man.

Edited 2012-08-08 23:13 (UTC)

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Day 64: Intercom, Evening

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And this is why we don't tag things at 5:45 am

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Sorry this took so long!

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M4