damned_institute | End of Night 64: Head Doctor's Office

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End of Night 64: Head Doctor's Office - 3rd Floor

While it wasn't uncommon for patients to black out at the end of Nightshift, a select few would have a wrench thrown into their normal routine. Rather than waking up bright and early in their typical bed, they would find themselves propped up in a comfortable leather chair.

The room itself looked like an office straight from the 1950s – almost cozy, in fact. None of them would recognize the oak table in the middle of the room, or the two bookcases, which were neatly arranged with all kinds of texts and books. Between those bookcases, though, was a picture of the Institute, framed with wood that perfectly matched the rest of the room's décor.

The knickknacks scattered across the bookcases -- staff photographs, a golfing figure made of business cards, and some prestigious-looking awards – didn't seem out of place for a regular office, either. The desk itself was the centerpiece, and was obviously well-used. That wasn't to say it was messy, exactly, but the inbox and outbox resting on top of the glass-paned surface were stuffed with a variety of paperwork and envelopes. Though most of the room looked old-fashioned, the keyboard and two flat screen monitors contrasted with the rest of the office.

These things would probably escape the notice of most of the people visiting this evening, though. After all, anyone who woke up in this office would be treated to the sight of a man peering through his oval-rimmed glasses as he leafed through some folders. Although his face was distinct enough for anyone who'd had the opportunity to see the Head Doctor in person, the small microphone sitting just inches away from him said volumes about who he was.

As soon as the patient awoke, the man looked up, offering an unexpectedly amicable smile. After closing the folder, he set it down next to the outbox and leaned back in his seat.

“Ah, good evening,” he greeted as he pulled the glasses from his nose. “I've been expecting you. You've been brought here because I thought you might be interested in making a deal, so let's discuss things like gentlemen, shall we?” Nodding toward the newcomer, he chuckled. “Take a moment to regain your bearings if you need it. I realize this must be a bit disorienting.”

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Loki woke, looking at an unfamiliar ceiling. He quickly sorted through his recent memories and gritted his teeth, sitting up. But the situation was even more foreign. He paused, looking around the room, assessing the situation quickly.

Oh, but he was angry. Very, very angry. He was back in the hideous uniform, his magic had once more been warded to the point he could barely feel its presence (though thankfully he wasn't entirely empty) and he was now well aware of how he'd been controlled. He hated it.

But Loki was also a superb player of the game. Faced by someone who was either his captor or an double for the man, he smiled, and it was pleasant. Politics had always been Loki's game in Asgard, lies and prevarication. He could play that game even there, and pretend that he didn't want to snap this foolish mortal's neck.

The motion unhurried, he rose to his feet, smoothing down the front of his hideous shirt with one hand. "Good evening," he said, and even bowed for good measure, the motion of a Prince acknowledging someone of lower station. "And what precisely did you have in mind?" He smiled, allowing some slyness to creep into the expression. "I'm always prepared to make deals."

Loki's situation was a bit different from the other patients meeting with him this evening, so the Head Doctor was glad to see he was willing to cooperate. Of course, he wasn't naive. Most patients in his shoes would undoubtedly want to slit his throat if given the chance. But such details never bothered the Head Doctor before -- and besides, it wasn't like he intended to give anyone the opportunity to attack him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Martin Landel said as he rested his elbows onto of his desk. "A lot of people here blast their way through walls, hack and slash at whatever's in front of them, or generally leave a giant mess with their name written all over it. But you're not like that, are you?"

He smiled as he carefully studied Loki. "Your performance tonight was simply superb." To emphasize his point, he offered a quiet, brief applause. "Watching you was like...watching an artist. Or I suppose 'a god' would be more accurate, wouldn't it? But I can tell what you do is sophisticated enough to be considered an art, and I'm a man who can appreciate that. That's why I handpicked you to meet with me tonight."

With that, the Head Doctor leaned back in his chair. "So, tell me -- how would you like to instigate a little witch hunt? Naturally, you'd be rewarded for your efforts."

[Jansen.]

"A lot of people are fools," Loki said carelessly. "The vast majority, actually." He smirked. "I do my level best to not be a fool."

Performance. Oh, but that word made him want to snarl. That smug little mortal was just itching to have his skull crushed. But Loki had little doubt that could be easily prevented, and he refused to humiliate himself by even making the attempt. The fact that Landel was even speaking to him as something approaching an equal meant that he had an advantage, here. He had something the man wanted.

Play the game.

So he smiled and gave the man a bow with obvious mockery to it. "So glad to entertain. And yes, god would be much more accurate."

Loki began to wander slowly around the room, looking over the walls and furnishings with an almost bored expression on his face. "It depends upon whom is being hunted, and what the reward on offer will be."

Edited 2012-07-19 21:06 (UTC)

"I'm sure you're aware of the recent rash of symptoms going around the institute," Landel pointed out. Yes, of course he was. Aside from some of the patients who had just arrived, there was no way he wasn't familiar with it. "Some of these patients will turn into creatures, and I'm curious to know what it would take for people's panic to become...palpable."

After all, the possibility that he could witness other patients giving up their humanity in other, voluntary ways was too interesting to ignore. But if some of these "traitors" wanted to have their own fun, he wouldn't exactly stop them, either.

"In other words, I'd like for you to use your talents to turn the patients against those who are unwell," the Head Doctor continued. "You can use whatever methods you'd like, and can even get your own hands dirty if it suits you. But, for the purposes of this current study -- this experiment, if you will -- I want to see how many patients might lose their lives during such a scenario, and what kind of fear the upcoming transformations might inspire."

It was an ambitious project, unlike any he'd undertaken in the institute's recent history. But that was what made it so interesting to him!

"Now, as for your payment..." Landel's lips twisted into a knowing smile, as though they were sharing a private joke between them. "I'd be willing to permanently grant you a portion of your powers of illusion in exchange for your cooperation. In fact, as a sign of my goodwill, I'll even give them to you in advance so you can use them to further your mission."

"It's been made painfully obvious, yes," Loki said. The way the man crowed about it nightly should have let anyone with ears in on the plot. He crossed his arms easily over his chest, looking both regal and bored somehow despite the ludicrous uniform.

"Ah, I begin to understand." He ran a finger over his chin lightly as he thought. He didn't particularly want to make enemies of the prisoner population, not when he was in such a weakened state. And he liked a few of them, though the rest could twist for all he cared. But when he executed Landel and took over the realm, he'd much rather be greeted as a liberator rather than a despot.

...though despot was still much better than nothing.

"It's really a favor to yourself," he remarked. "Since that will stir up panic much faster than me sneaking up behind people and shouting, 'boo.'" He tilted his head, considering the offer. It was tempting to have the powers back, but also dangerous. He would have to be extremely careful that no one would know he could do such things, or he would be the obvious target.

Unless... oh, that would be an interesting avenue to explore. Something to think about later.

"If I'm to get my hands dirty, I expect more than a pittance of power back, power which will achieve your ends quite nicely, particularly now that it's no longer a secret weapon." He smiled slowly. "I tire of being one of the sheep. The setup you have here interests me. It's nicely twisted. I desire greater involvement."

Well, he couldn't exactly rely on subtly if he wanted everyone to be aware of what was happening. Some of the patients here were incredibly dense, after all. But Martin Landel had studied his options carefully, and was more or less pleased with the group he intended to speak with tonight.

It was true that granting Loki's powers in advance was as much for his own benefits as for the patient's. They both had things the other wanted, so he hoped they could reach a mutual understanding, even if the Head Doctor privately understood how much this man hated being here right now.

"Fair enough," he said as he met Loki's gaze. "How about something on par with what you demonstrated tonight, then? Granted, it would be unwise for me to give you full reign of the hallways -- you understand, I'm sure -- but I'll even explain what limitations you'd be dealing with so you won't have any unpleasant surprises later."

Landel plucked his glasses off the desk and idly turned them around in his hands. "For example," he continued, "I could grant you the ability to create up to two images at a single time. Each illusion will probably last...oh, about two minutes before you would likely need to recast it, and you'd be able to cast an illusion up to twenty times in one night. It's very limited compared to what you're used to, but you should realize that this is much more than I typically offer anyone."

Loki smiled pleasantly enough, even as inwardly he seethed about being limited, about being offered his own abilities back as if they were some gift he ought to be grateful for.

"I see. And why might that be? Simple respect for my... achievements as an artist?" He slowly approached the desk and sat down, crossing his legs neatly, hands clasped lightly over his stomach. Some trick of his body position gave the impression that he was lounging rather than just sitting, like a king on a throne.

"And what of it once this particular adventure is done? You said my reward is to have that small whiff of power back permanently. Presumably you think to utilize me further." One eyebrow tilted up slightly.

"Respect, and a sincere desire to continue watching you work with whatever medium is available to you," Landel answered with a smile. "Although, I suppose it doesn't feel like work when you enjoy what you're doing. That's something I like about you."

And that was one reason why he'd brought him here. After all, if everyone dragged their feet, then the results were bound to be lackluster.

As for what came after, Landel shrugged. There was no reason to delve into future projects when they had so much to look forward to with this one. "Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to see how this little idea pans out first, hmm? Either way, I have faith that you'll find ways to put that power to use even after all of this is finished. As far as I'm concerned, that's enough of a reason to let you hold onto them."

Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on the desk again. "Of course, you should know I'm usually not one for advanced payments. If I give you these powers before our little project is finished, it's under the assumption that you'll make use them. That means I'll be holding you to certain...well, 'expectations' is such a demanding word, don't you think? Let's just say I don't want to be disappointed."

So he was to be entertainment for the mortal, it seemed. Well, Loki supposed, it was enough of a place to start, if he'd caught the man's interest in such a way. It was a foothold, and he could decide how best to utilize it from there.

He'd feel a bit disgusted later that the man found a quality to like in him. Landel came across quite loudly as a megalomaniacal sadist. While Loki had his own streak of cruelty that he utilized without a blush, he was no sadist, and disliked the quality immensely.

Loki nodded along with the man's words as if they agreed totally. Let the mortal think he was so shortsighted and mean as that. It only benefited Loki in the end.

"Well, yes, I do my best with what's on hand." He raised an eyebrow. "Demanding as it might be, but let us call a thing for what it is. You intend to punish me if you find my achievements not up to your expectations, I take it?"

"In simple terms, yes," the Head Doctor responded with another smile, though it wasn't tinged with the sort of cruelty one might expect, which probably made it all the stranger. "After all, it certainly wouldn't be fair to the other patients if I made this offer and didn't expect you to pay up if you don't meet your end of the deal."

Thankfully, he knew how to keep the rules simple. "I've chosen five of you for this task," he explained. "Seeing as that's the case, at least five deaths isn't too much to ask, hmm? You don't even have to get you own hands dirty if you'd rather not destroy your reputation. Scaring other patients into doing it for you is perfectly acceptable as well. That's why I'm mostly thinking of this as a witch hunt."

"Oh yes, you do always seem quite concerned with fairness," Loki drawled. Such an explanation was pure theater, and they both knew it. Perhaps the man just liked knowing he had an axe hanging over the heads of those beneath him. Loki had no intention of letting him think he was at all bothered.

"That seems a fair enough requirement," Loki continued. While he preferred to keep his hands clean, he had no problem doing what was necessary; either way that didn't need to be stated. "However, before I can agree to the conditions, I would need to know precisely what punishment I would face upon failure. Shouldering unknown risk for dubious reward is the act of the desperate or the foolish, and I am neither."

The Head Doctor couldn't help it if life wasn't always concerned with fairness. When it came to making deals, though, it was just bad business to let one person get away with something no one else could. Besides, extra conditions gave him something else to observe, which he certainly couldn't complain about.

Naturally, though, Loki wanted to hear more before committing. He'd expected nothing different. "Of course," he replied with an easy smile. "If you don't succeed, then you will be faced with the prospect of being immune to healing magic."

It was no good to make a deal he knew Loki wouldn't want to take. After reviewing what he knew about him, though, Landel was confident that the terms would sound manageable to a god such as himself.

"How does all of that sound?" he asked, and he tilted his head with obvious interest.

Loki mulled that over. He hadn't needed that sort of help yet, and was good enough in a fight that he hopefully wouldn't unless he made a truly stupid mistake. He tapped his fingers on his chin. It was a tic he could explain away easily enough as well, should it come to that.

"Acceptable," he finally said. "We shall see how this game runs its course, then."

At least it was an interesting bit of play.

The pale and dark child staring at him faded to nothing as the setting shifted to change. A familiar sensation, one learned quickly through the past weeks, but it was no bed to claim him, daylight streaming in, when his eyes opened. No. The room itself instead seemed nearly a head master's office in a prestigious school--the picture of the building on the wall to cement the image properly. The item out of sorts in this scenario came not even in the man sitting across from the boy, but the way the other presented himself. A completely different aspect than the one presented last.

If there was to be surprise from the shift in settings, from the man called Landel sitting before him, it was not to come from Albedo. This was all just a game--to Albedo, and to this man especially, the one who held the deck of cards fit to crumble. The only item that spoke differently was--

Nigredo.

--His brother, but his waveform had muted, unconscious, alive, somewhere. Albedo blinked slowly, reformatting his mind. Instinct would have him call for his brother's location before all else, but Albedo, of all around him, was no idiot. Games and plots were a hobby, and it would be no different here. No different.

So, as before, the question remained-- Why was this face being shown now, such a stark contrast from the personality shown in the coliseum? For a moment, Albedo considered clones, but placed it to the side. More than likely, it was only that the man wanted something. A deal. And from Albedo? It was a surprise enough that Landel had deigned to speak to him near personally on the intercom, calling back to the subject of Doyle during the coliseum, but what use could be had for a muted regenerator touched by a god, when here there existed unique creatures in spades?

...Or that is what he would have questioned, had he been anyone else. Three times now, he'd regained both his method and his madness, his abilities and aptitudes, since they'd been lessened, and two of the times for the beck and call of this man. So, now then. What was the game to be played?

The boy leaned back in the chair, comfortable and at ease, and gave a sharp grin, edged and dark. "There's no need to woo me like a lover with all that talk." Both knew that Landel had edges and could use them. The camaraderie offered was more an unnatural state. "If you wish something from me, speak it. There's no need for either of us to play coy at this level of our intimacy." Albedo raised his eyebrows, prompting openness, but there was an added level in the expression; a mockery, but if it was at the man for his movements on the board, or self-mockery for Albedo moving to offer a skip in the steps--there was no assurance of either.

There was no denying that this patient had stood out over his time here. Landel had always known that there was no point in underestimating children. He'd heard the scandalized whispers about how it was wrong to have young people brought here along with the adults, but there were some children who had the potential of ten full-grown subjects. He wasn't one to discriminate.

And Albedo, well... he had shown himself to be quite the interesting choice, between his performance while under Special Counseling and the skills he'd used in the coliseum fight. Yomi truly hadn't stood a chance, had she?

Of course, the truth of the matter was that this boy didn't need to have his mind altered to be capable of what Landel was asking, and that was one of the reasons why he'd been called here tonight. Yes, the Head Doctor had picked out his subjects carefully...

As usual, Albedo stood out with his response, causing Landel to laugh and shake his head. "You're quite the character, aren't you? Well, in that case, I'll cut to the chase." He set his glasses down and intertwined his fingers on the desk. "I can only imagine you've noticed the illness that's running through the institute like an epidemic. I want some of those patients targeted and eradicated. Do you think that's something you'd be capable of?"

[Court.]

Quite the compliment, those words, and Albedo only smiled further, something quiet and nearly pleased. In truth, it didn't matter what this man thought of him, or what things he asked-- Albedo's mind had only shifted to prioritize on his sibling, who he had sensed once more in the basement before coming here. And now. This. All too aligned really.

And the subject at hand. Straightforward as could be, something that could be appreciated, except for one certain little fact. Nothing else mattered really. He'd torment whoever if there was something amusing to be had. The boy's head tilted as if in humor--it was instead, a careful movement, a necessary act. It was too bad, really. He'd almost enjoy this, but for that one aspect. "Something I would be capable of? Why, I'm scandalized you would even think that--"

He shrugged loosely, amusement wiping from his expression as his bright eyes stared. "Think that it's beyond me, that is. For me personally, or elsewise? You said 'targeted'-- That usually denotes a group. I'm not one to play well with others." A magician of words, yes, but he'd grown past his weapon days of working with others. Still, there was--

The boy crossed an ankle over a knee, waving a hand as he continued his little monologue. "Regardless, you have to know that I don't care what happens to those people, but there's a little problem with this scenario you're presenting. My brother." Because Landel must know. Who exactly was affected. "If your little virus is actual, my brother is one of those you wish me to eradicate."

It went unsaid. There was an absolute denial of that aspect.

Oh, Landel knew all about Nigredo, as it was impossible to know a thing about Albedo without also being aware of his brother. There was supposed to be a third one, of course, and even a sister -- but Rubedo hadn't functioned well here. If the Head Doctor remembered correctly, "Junior" was living with a family who was taking very good care of him, not that he was interested in sharing that information with Albedo now.

No, it was better to focus on what was here in front of him, and that was that Albedo had a sick brother.

"Not all of them need to be taken down," he remarked as he stood from his chair and started to pace. "I suspect some of them will self-destruct due to their own hero complexes, and others will find a cure. There's five of you who I'm calling here tonight, but there's no need to work together either."

It would be pointless to try and get a group of sociopaths to work as a team. Not that all of them were as unfeeling as Albedo, but they all had something that could move them to turn on their own kind.

"If you succeed and five of the infected end up dead, then there will be a reward," he teased, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked Albedo up and down. He'd made sure to pick out things that would be hard for them to resist.

A cure. Cute. That had been hinted about previously, and here it was, from the mouth of the man himself. Still, it nearly meant nothing but a possibility-- Albedo knew well enough that the promise of treatment meant nothing in actuality. Hadn't that girl taught him that? A shudder fled through him at the thought, and he ignored it all the same.

There was much more and many to be discussed after all. No need to bring the dead into the talk of those still yet living. Even if not for much longer.

The boy leaned forward, bringing a hand up to frame his face, tapping fingertips on his cheekbone. "You're speaking of illness and cures. Isn't the reward obvious, then? You're asking me to bring about others' deaths for my brother's life. And why not just kill them with your own power? Isn't that within your means?" An obvious yes, but Albedo understood further in this at least. He giggled lightly. "Except if you killed them, you'd be setting yourself up as the villain. And since Doyle's been gone, you seem to have shirked that role; playing instead the part of the well-meaning jailer. If instead, other patients rose to strike down those who succumbed... Then you would have unrest and distrust within instead of without."

The hand on his face gestured to the man in question. "Am I wrong?"

It was true that the obvious choice would be to offer Nigredo a cure as Albedo's reward, but that was almost too easy. Landel liked to think he wasn't that predictable, though he'd been called plenty of things over the years and was more or less immune to badmouthing by now. The point was that he'd made it a little more complicated than that.

Albedo was asking some interesting questions, but he also managed to answer them for himself, and it was nothing that the Head Doctor could deny. He knew there was a reason that he'd picked Albedo, and it was because he had a strong idea of how these things worked.

"Exactly," he said after a pause, smiling at the boy almost as if he was proud. "There's no need to get my hands dirty at this point, and I need to figure out who I can rely on to get the harder jobs done." Not all of these patients were really cut out for this, after all, but anyone who could set aside feelings for a greater purpose was worth keeping an eye on.

"So, are you interested?" He tilted his head at Albedo, though he already had an idea of the response he'd get.

The boy waited until the man was done speaking, grin showing around the edges. "Au contraire; the question is not if I'm interested." He gave a shrug of allowance, before continuing. His nerves jangled against each other, in anxiety, in excitement. There was no question that this scenario claimed itself as fun, except-- Except the child hadn't forgotten that this man could bring back abilities at whim, sort life and death just as equally, and Albedo wasn't sure which he feared more at this point: Nigredo's life in this man's hands, or the possibility that this man would give back his regeneration in full, which would strike from from his brother's side all the same.

Playing to suit a role, therefore, came as something all too known. Far too necessary. "It's not a hard job at all, unless the time frame is further constrained than one would assume. But all of that is near meaningless-- I'm like to know your offer before sealing myself to the deal. Of course I'm interested, but what shiny things--" Nigredo's life, Nigredo's protection, his own dear soul. "--are you holding up as incentive?"

That was what it came down to, of course, but Landel had prepared carefully for this. He wouldn't have called these five patients up here if he hadn't known exactly what he was going to say. He wasn't fond of making a fool of himself, or of anyone who made him appear that way. It was why people like General Aguilar and his dear departed friend Doyle earned so much of his ire.

But this had nothing to do with them, and he calmed himself as he considered Albedo's question and laid it all out on the table. "What I'm offering is... protection for your brother, though maybe not in the way you considered." He knew that a cure was obvious, but that was so boring that he'd rather go with something else. And in the end, this reward would do them better in the long run.

"As I'm sure you know, there's a shield of sorts around me that prevents attacks of any kind." None of the patients he'd called here had tried to break through it so far, which spoke to how level-headed they were. He had no intention of dealing with hotheads. "There would be one instated for your brother at night, although a much more limited one. But he'd be shielded from at least one unexpected attack per night." If the boy was stupid enough to get himself in trouble more than once, then that was his problem.

To some, the offer given could be a weak one, and Albedo himself would have thought as much before. But the boy had been here for nearly a month now, and from the things encountered from both, the offer was actually more than what he would have thought. More and less both, but when it came down to it, it could be enough. These things shifted and settled into his mind, cemented with purpose.

The melodic speech and off-beat humor ceased without prelude, and the bioweapon stared, violet eyes bright. One did not merely say yes to devils or men--the night could vanish like the tales of mortals dancing beneath a faery hill. "So there are five people that are ill to be disposed of. Only five," he clarified, as if checking the facts. "Is there any bonus to going over the amount of five?" Any further guarantee of safety that could be managed.

"And it's factual that there is a cure to be found somewhere?" He had no expectation to be hold anything on the details--the fact of its existence would do enough. The boy mulled over the largest point. "And when would payment occur? On the first death, or the last?" It was Nigredo now, who was in danger, who was also a target to the other people in this little group. If it was possible to contact some, to trade information and weapons as a guarantee, that would be the best scenario, but all in all, the least likely one. If it was possible to have that protection sooner rather than later, Albedo would breathe easier. Slight, but easier.

Suddenly, Albedo dropped any theatrics and got straight to the point, which Landel certainly didn't mind. He had five people to talk to before morning came, after all, so he needed to make these conversations as brief as possible.

But he was glad to see that the boy had some ambition, seeing how he was asking what would be offered if more than five were killed. "I didn't have any bonus prizes in mind, so I wouldn't suggest you overextend yourself," he said after a pause, smirking slightly. "I admire your determination, though."

Asking about the cure was interesting. That cure was the biggest obstacle to these five patients, so it would make the most sense for them to avoid it at all costs. Still, things could be turned around in different ways, and Landel couldn't forget that Albedo's brother was sick. "There is a cure, yes. I'm not dangling that over people's heads for no reason," he said with a shrug. "And payment would occur once the fifth sick patient died."

Quite the doctor, trying to kill off his patients. Landel knew the irony in that, but it wasn't as if he cared.

Nothing Albedo didn't expect to begin with. But there were reasons to cover one's options, and at least with this, he had the word of this man to fall onto it. As much as it was worth. But there were similarities held in the transcripts of earlier nights that Albedo had read, and for that reason, he believed that the man had no reason to lie outright. There was further amusement in guile, in the setup of games, and there was no elegance in lying so haphazardly. The boy could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, but it was no near something like a habit.

Albedo's head twitched slightly--the smallest of nods given, acknowledgement quiet and assumed. "I don't see why I can't play your game, then." He laughed once, then smirked up at the man. "You do interesting things that I can appreciate, even in the position given to me. So I'll play the role of mercenary and manipulator for you." He inclined his head in a mocking sort of bow. "Do let me know if there's any other games we can play, hmm?~"

So that was one more down. Landel's lips curled into a smile, but he'd known from the beginning that Albedo would probably agree. With everything settled between them and a confirmation given, there wasn't much else to be said.

"Time will tell on that point," he said. "For now, focus on this, and if you do well we'll see about the future." Landel was also shocked that Albedo seemed to have some amount of respect for him. It took quite the character to be able to acknowledge that even while a victim of it.

"Sweet dreams," he said as a closing statement, and the next thing Albedo would know was darkness, just like the end of any other night.

This world just had no respect for the laws of chronological order! One moment Facilier was in the midst of another horrible night, then within a blink of an eye, timeless darkness would take over, followed by the unexplained rearrangement of finding oneself in a bed the next morning. Yet even this spastic pattern was unexpectedly abandoned when the usual sensation of waking up beneath a layer of bed sheets was replaced by a more upright position upon a comfortable chair. The feel of the leather arm rests and the sounds of shuffling paper nearby jerked Facilier back into full alertness, causing his lanky body to twitch slightly on the spot as his violet eyes fluttered open.

Yet another bizarre chapter in this dream-like world... For a moment, Facilier thought he actually was dreaming, as the whole scene before him reminded him of childhood nightmares of being sent to the principle's office for falling asleep during class, but was further damned by being caught snoozing before the principle himself!

But the man before him was no principle, but far more powerful and terrible. Facilier was quick to recognize the man's hair and face, after all, he was there to witness Martin Landel get dragged away kicking and screaming by soldiers during his first day in captivity. And just as Landel's apparent normality betrayed his true power, so did the total lack of magic of any kind in his office. Facilier had expected the control room of the Head Doctor to be similar to his Voodoo Emporium back at New Orleans. Yet instead it was just an extra pompous office. No talismans, no spirits, no magic. Nothing extraordinary at all. Just a set of expensive furniture, loaded bookcases, more of those televised vision boxes, and a.... golfing figurine? Facilier almost groaned at the sight; his captor just another one of those loathsome rich fat cats!

The Shadow Man straightened up and crossed his arms, remembering just in time to halt his habit of straightening his hat and adjusting his coat as he was still clothed in the institute's undignified uniform. Despite the disadvantaged position Facilier woke up to, he remained calm and confident in his posture. Any hint of confusion and uncertainty was hidden behind an expression of critical appraisal of his host and surroundings. It didn't take long for Facilier's sharp mind to evaluate Landel's greeting; this wasn't a dream, this was a business meeting.

"Good evening indeed!" he answered, bowing his head slightly with an insincere smile. "Y'all got yourself quite the abode here, Doctor Landel!" he added with another glance around the office. Knowing he was dealing with a powerful figure like the Loa, Facilier kept a respectful stance in check, but not without letting some of his festering distrust of the other man seep into his tone. "Last time I saw you, things weren't exactly as dignified... Congratulations on getting your little mansion back!" he added with a sarcastic smirk.

"Anyways, I'm no stranger to the business of deals," Facilier said, uncrossing his arms and folding his boney hands together upon his knee, "So tell me, what is it that you desire?"

Landel remained still, but his polite expression spread into a proper smile as he stared back at Facilier. The man's glibness did him no favors, but that was part of his charm, was it not? He had shopped through his patients carefully, and talent at times came with certain costs. Annoyance was certainly the least of his write offs. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. And the Head Doctor had a lot to gain, so he ventured. But first, he needed to thank his sarcastic fan.

"You know, there are times when I question my motivation and then loyal patrons like yourself come along and blow all my worries away!" A delighted laugh came from the Head Doctor as he clutched his chest to contain himself. Oh, patients thought they were so cute, and they were awfully correct. But there were more important topics to discuss besides this passive aggressive stand off. The patient seemed eager enough to get under way.
Folding his reading glasses between his fingers, he carefully slipped them in his shirt pocket as he responded to the man's question. It seemed Facilier was already stealing his lines. "Oh, I desire many things!" The Head Doctor replied pleasantly while he placed his hands loosely on the lacquered surface of his desk. "But I believe what I desire from you will be what you desire from me. I think it will be a—How do you say? —Yes, a mutually beneficial opportunity for us both.

"Tell me, Doctor, I am sure a man in your field must have noticed the sudden outbreaks that have been cropping up in my poor, patient population... Well, it would be a terrible waste of an opportunity not to test a few new variables, one of which I would like to be you—If you agree, of course." A few pieces of paper were gathered and stacked together before he continued. "I am curious to see just how far my lambs will go to protect themselves from infection. Fear produces the most imaginatve murders." The last few words were whistfully uttered as Landel looked through the voodoo doctor for a moment.

"This is where you come in. I want you to stir the pot, invoke fear and paranoia in the healthy to exterminate the infected. The 'how' is up to you--Oh, and do try to be creative. I only give out gold stars for originality."

[Claire]

The Shadow man remained calmly seated at Landel's laughter, his false face unchanged except for a slight narrowing of his eyes and an unpleasant curl in the edges of his lips. Facilier had dealt with tough customers before, but this meeting was a whole new flavor for the witch doctor, and it was a very bitter taste indeed. He could feel his ego twitching at the subtle insult, and he knew an angry retort accompanied by his more aggressive methods of persuasion would be in order to remind those just who was boss here. But such action was not possible; the Shadow man was no longer at the near top of his game here, instead he was trapped beneath the mercy of a mere mortal man with enigmatic powers and elusive explanations. Doctor Landel wanted to talk over this like gentlemen, did he not? If that was the sort of game he desired, Facilier could play that too.

"Oh, nothing makes me more happier than to source of comfort for your insecurities, Doctor Landel," Facilier replied, giving out a series of hollow chuckles of his own while his eyes remained narrow against his twisted smile, "As the Head Doctor of a mental institution, I'm surprised you even needed that! But I digress! Let us move on to business, shall we?"

As he listened to Landel's proposal, Facilier leaned his elbow upon the armrest, resting his cheek in his hand with an impassive expression as his long finger placidly tapped against his temple. Yet the more Landel spoke, the higher Facilier's eye brows arched, and for once a true smile curved his lips. "Well ain't that the most twisted request I've heard yet!" Facilier exclaimed, his impression of his captor tilting away from downright disgust to begrudged admiration. So the Head Doctor hexes his own prisoners and then just watches them kill each other off? Not the most efficient plan to extermination, but it was an amusing one nonetheless! It was a shame that they weren't working together on an equal level instead (or at least 60/40 sort of level in Facilier's favor...), but for now he had to work with the cards he had been dealt with.

"So y'all want me to sic some wolves on them poor sheep of yours while you just stand about and watch? Don't want to get them hands of yours dirty, am I right?" Facilier laughed. "My, you make the most terrible shepherd! You ought to be fired!"

Once his chuckles died off, Facilier's smile faded slightly as the conversation approached the topic of payment. "Rest assured, I do find your plan truly amusing, but there's just a little problem with your delightful proposal..."

Getting back to the more serious business at hand, Facilier leaned forward in his chair and returned Landel's stare. "As you probably know, I'm already on a 'mutually beneficial' connection with another employer..." he explained, "At least a certain group of them from the Other Side, whatever makes most sense to you," he hastily added with a little wave of his hand.

"You see, it would go against the ethics of my business to work with another employer, 'specially one who's behind the loss of my very freedom and other things..." he said in a darkened voice, "Whatever payment you are willing to give me, it had better be a good one before I can even acknowledge your offer."

Landel's response to this game of theirs was an amused chuckle. "As a shepherd, I prefer to call it... Tough love." Truly, these patients would learn that the things he did to them, he did out of love for a greater purpose to which they would all inevitably serve. And on that day he would be a proud father.

"Ah, yes. How perfect of you to bring them up..." For it was a topic that the Head Doctor would need to breech sooner or later. "From one business man to another, I am certainly the last man who would want offend any ethical sensibilities, yours or your friends on the 'Other Side'. However--" Sitting back in his leather chair, the fine-quality furniture creaked under his weight as he leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. "--I am simply too intrigued by your work in your, shall we say, specialized field not to broker, so let's cut to the chase, am I right?" His grin and laugh certainly said he was.

"It can hardly be called a business deal any longer now that you can't even use the gifts the 'Other Side' has given you. Seems rather stacked in their favor--But I digress, excuse me. What would you say to placing that business deal back on equal footing, and all it would take is a few well-placed scare tactics and a few negligible deaths--Something you seem to excel at."

Facilier's arched eye brow twitched. Tough love... Just what exactly did Landel mean by that? Had he gathered up all his prisoners to punish them or to train them? What was the purpose behind it all? Was some form of sadism involved? The Head Doctor's remark was another precious piece to the puzzle but it was too small to reveal the whole picture. Facilier bit back the urge to inquire more into Landel's foreboding statement. From the impression Facilier received over Landel's elusiveness towards the population of his institute, he knew this was a very delicate situation, and blurting out such questions so soon during their first conversation would not work in his favor. If he could remain on good terms with Landel (or at least the best terms a captive such as himself could bear to have with his captor) then perhaps he could earn the privilege to learn more...?

"Well, technically speaking, you stole me from my employers, and I'm quite sure they're not too happy about it," Facilier replied with a crooked smile. As a matter of fact, his entire soul had become the Loa's property the very moment Tiana destroyed his amulet. In a sick sort of way, Facilier had Landel to thank for saving him from such a fate... "If me working for you offends them in anyway, I have a feeling you'll be the one who has to face them, not me. Just a little warning for y'all..." he darkly added with a small twist to his already unpleasant smirk.

"But I see where you're getting at here..." Facilier said as he leaned back in his seat and rested his large foot upon his thin knee. "You want to give me back my gifts in exchange for the slaughtering of your sick little lambs..." The Bokor's eyes slowly grew wide with greed. "How much y'all be willing to pay me? A price for each dead sheep? Or a whole paycheck to cover them all in advance? Tell me..."

"Warning taken," Landel said before getting to the nitty gritty of their contract. It was too bad Facilier was so seasoned in these tricky business deals; it made slip ups all the harder to implement. Alas!

"I would be agreeable to loaning your gifts back to you during this little experiment. It should make this witch hunt all the more enjoyable to watch! But I expect a little more than just some clever hocus pocus, as I'm sure you can understand." The Head Doctor paused for a moment to make sure the patient was listening to the catch. "I need at least five deaths before I will guarantee to return your gifts to you permanently. Any less and you may have to kiss your new and improved shadow friend good bye. Granted you do not have to be responsible for all five of them. It would be a treat to see groups of paranoid patients take out some of their own--Of course, if you want to be the one doing the killing, by all means." The man's laugh was more bright and wholesome than it should have been.

"On that note--!" He returned his seat back up straight and leaned over his desk as he watched. "Let's talk about what will be returned to you, shall we? Yes, I think we shall! I will loosen the collar on that delightful shadow of yours! It is free to roam the nights just as long as you can. Now then, it will only be as physically strong as you are, so bear that in mind when you are trying to beat, dismember, or strangle someone or something--Or however you enjoy utilizing those final moments! I leave the choice up to your judgment, of course!

"Comments, questions?" The Head Doctor waited patiently, a delighted smile stuck to his face.

"Five deaths you say? Sounds doable, 'specially if my powers are part of the equation!" Facilier was feeling increasingly amiable towards Landel's deal -- even towards Landel himself in a way. It meant going against his own fellow prisoners, but what did they ever have to offer him? Just meek promises of weakened powers and foolish beliefs of the "power of friendship", that's what! That wasn't what Facilier wanted! Most of them were just obstacles and possible threats to him anyways! To gain back his abilities and even a chance to climb up the ladder towards the "real" power of this world was far too impossible for the greedy Bokor to resist. He couldn't help but join Landel's laughter over their despicable plans. "I had not expected such generosity from you! Men of your stature would never bother to cast me even a sideways glance! You've made the right decision in approaching me with your deal..."

As soon as it was mentioned, Facilier's Shadow peeked its caricature of a head out from behind the leather chair. At this point, there was no need to hide, and just hearing about the possibility of regaining its powers made the dark entity squirmy with excitement. With his Shadow revealing its full form against the wall beside him, Facilier appraised Landel and pondered over his offer. What Landel described was the same as Facilier had before when he still worked for the Loa. It did bother him that the man sitting before him had such relative ease of access to his powers in the first place, but the opportunity to get some of them back was tempting... And as he warned before, if the Loa didn't like this arrangement, they can take it up with Landel. Simple as that.

"You've got yourself a deal, Doctor Landel!" Facilier exclaimed, leaping to his feet and stretching out a long hand towards the seated man. "I promise y'all get your little show and then some!" he declared as his grinning Shadow let out an eerie chuckle from behind. "Your poor sick sheep will be taken out of their misery in no time!"

Just like yesterday, Eugene woke far away from where he'd been, his leg neatly bandaged and his bloody gray uniform changed for a fresh one. There was just one thing.

This wasn't his room.

Eugene stared at the man sitting at the large, commanding desk in front of him. He didn't need to ask where he was or who had brought him here. As soon as the man began to speak, he knew. This was the voice that echoed throughout the halls day and night, alternating between offering taunts and menu options. So this was the guy in charge of the place. The one that had brought him, Rapunzel, and all of the other people here to run around and get hurt at night while seeking clues that he wasn't even sure even existed. This was Landel.

And he wanted to make a deal?

"Why?" Eugene asked eventually. "What makes you think I'd want to make a deal with you?" He was sitting up straighter now, despite heavily bandaged leg, ready to lunge forward and attack as soon as he could find an opening.

Ah, he'd expected that this one would take a little more convincing. The Head Doctor was fine with that, though, since he was confident he had the bargaining chip he needed to secure this man's cooperation.

"Maybe you should think about your position a little more, Mr. Rider," the Head Doctor answered before suddenly raising his eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sorry -- it's Mr. Fitzherbert, isn't it? But I digress."

Landel leaned back in his chair with the same mildly interested expression someone might wear if they were discussing the weather. "Maybe a better question is, what makes you think you wouldn't want to make a deal with me? Unless, of course, you don't care much about what happens to the lovely Miss Rapunzel. If that's the case, then I supposed I shouldn't even be wasting your time."

[Jansen]

Edited 2012-07-21 21:22 (UTC)

"Well, at least you've got my name right," Eugene drawled, scanning the room for possible weapons, escape routes. One of the awards on the desk looked heavy enough to do some serious damage to the good doctor's head, if it came to that. Eugene had never killed a person before; he preferred to lead a significantly less violent life of crime. But if he had to... "Honestly, the whole 'Mr. Bartowski' thing was getting a bit old. Why the act?"

Though, as someone who had spent his entire adult life pretending to be someone he wasn't, he really wasn't in a position to talk.

When Landel mentioned Rapunzel, he stiffened. Of course. Of course he would use her to get to him. In spite of himself, Eugene found himself taking the bait. He stiffened. "If you lay one finger on her I will..."

What? What would he do? What would he do against a person with the power to bring them all here and then watch them run around like rats in a cage?

The threat hung in the air, still incomplete.

"What makes you think my lovely staff is acting?" he asked with a tilt of his head. Then, after a brief pause, he smiled. "Well, I could spend all evening explaining our methods and why we're doing what we do, but I won't bore you. Besides, I'm sure there are more pressing things to discuss."

Which was obvious enough by the empty, half-formed threat thrown at him. Instead of laughing, though, the Head Doctor raised his eyebrows with mock surprise.

"Now, now, Mr. Fitzherbert," he said in an oddly paternal voice, "don't you think it would be better to avoid such a nasty confrontation in the first place? In fact, if you cooperate me, I'll even offer a way for you to help her."

Help Rapunzel? In spite of himself, Eugene was warming, just a little bit, to what the Head Doctor was saying. He knew it was a trap, of course. No gaoler would suddenly turn around and offer to make a deal with his prisoner out of the goodness of his heart. Especially not one as maniacally sadistic as Landel. No, any deal that Landel was going to strike would benefit him a lot and Eugene...not at all.

But what choice did he have? They had Rapunzel. If this was the only way to keep her safe...

"What do you want?"

He'd suspected Fitzherbert would change his tune once he heard a little more. The Head Doctor gave him a pleasant smile devoid of any cruelty one might expect from him. Of course, what he was about to say next would probably make his expression more unnerving.

"The terms are quite simple, really," he told him. "You're no doubt aware of the illness that's been cropping up among the patients, yes? People can behave in a variety of different ways in such a fearful situation, and I make it my business to study as many different outcomes as I can. I'm interested in seeing whether you can help stir up a little bit of a witch hunt against those showing symptoms."

Clasping his hands together, he rested them on his desk's glossy surface. "The only way you'll get your reward is if some infected patients die along the way. Get your hands dirty if you wish -- or not, if you'd prefer subtly nudging others to do the job for you. That's fine, too. I'm really not a picky man, Mr. Fitzherbert."

Dr. Landel wanted him to kill people. Directly or indirectly, someone was going to have to die and there was no way out. The Head Doctor had their lives in the palms of his hands...especially Rapunzel's.

Eugene gripped the arms of the chair, white knuckled.

"You have the wrong criminal if you think I'm going to do that. Check your notes; I don't kill. Grand theft and petty larceny? Yeah, sure. But I never hurt anyone."

When he first cracked open his eyes, Izaya wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Instead of lying in bed in his room, he was seated--somewhat--in a chair, in an unfamiliar office. It wasn't Venkman's; Izaya was sure of immediately, before he started casting surreptitious glances around the room and definitely before his gaze settled on the man at the desk. He noted a microphone (intercom or radio?) resting nearby--and then the man spoke.

Intercom, then. Dr. Landel, he presumed.

Izaya straightened in the chair, listening quietly as the man from the intercom laid out his opening move.

How interesting it was to have been suddenly brought before Landel like this; Izaya had given more than an idle thought to the idea of asking how he might get in contact with the man who stood above all those who'd been brought together in this place. He'd thought before that, had he been in a position to offer something of value, Landel could be precisely the sort of man who could make use of Izaya's services--and now, here was the man in the flesh, talking about making deals. Izaya hadn't even had to go looking for him.

"Straight to business, is it?" he asked, ignoring the comment about regaining his bearings; the man before him was enough to help him focus. After a short pause, he smile and spoke again: "A deal requires something that both parties are interested in... Given your position, there's certainly a lot that you could offer, but I couldn't even begin to think of what you might want from me."

He could, actually. He could think of a lot of things.

Orihara Izaya was someone that Landel could have called on at any time and he likely would have reached some level of cooperation. That was the whole point, though. He was the one in charge here, which meant that it was up to him when he asked for help from these less savory characters. Izaya was no different from the others he'd brought here tonight.

The five of them stood out, of course, but he hoped none of them felt that special. In the grand scheme of things, they were still pawns. But if they got something out of it and had a good time all the while, would they really care? His guess was no, and his conversations had gone rather well so far.

"It's not all that complicated," he said in response, leaning back in his chair as he let out a sigh. One more of these chats, and then his work for the night would be done. Not that it ever really ended.

"I'm sure you've noticed the sickness spreading around through the patient body by now. My aim is for some of them to not survive the process. It would be boring if everyone figured out how to save themselves in the end, after all. So, with your reputation for spreading rumors and inciting hysteria, I'm sure you could instill some more panic in people, is that right?" He smiled wickedly and waited calmly from Izaya's response.

[Court]

The sickness? If he were honest, he'd actually heard more about the spreading sickness than he'd seen of it himself, be it from a lack of contact with those infected or else the hiding of symptoms by those same people. Just earlier tonight there had been talk of a cure, and Landel... Well, Landel was right. It would be boring if things turned out the same for everyone. It would be so much more interesting to watch if there was a variety.

"Well, well... You're certainly well-informed—not that I'd expect anything less. It is your 'hospital', after all," Izaya mused. His earlier smile lingered on his face, but any warmth was slowly draining from it. Landel's response had indicated that he knew exactly who he was dealing with—Orihara Izaya, information broker, not the 'Joshua Takahashi' that Venkman and the nurses had addressed—so there was little need for pretenses outside the game of feeling Landel out, of trying not to appear at a complete disadvantage.

He laced his fingers together, peering across the office at Landel.

"So you're interested in what exactly—starting up a little witch-hunt?" he asked, looking first for confirmation, to ensure everything was absolutely clear. If Landel wanted to stir things up and have a few casualties along the way, turning the populace against itself was certainly one way to do it. What Landel was saying he wanted from Izaya was something he would have considered anyway—spreading few rumors about the sickness, then spicing things up with a little panic to see what the human mind would turn to out of fright... "If I were to agree, what are you prepared to offer in exchange for my... services?"

"A witch hunt, exactly," Landel responded, nodding firmly. That was the exact term that he had used with some of the other patients, so he was pleased that Izaya had jumped to the right conclusion so quickly. Not that it was all that difficult to understand what he wanted here. He could only instill so much fear himself -- if statements were coming from other patients, it actually meant a lot more. And confusion would be the most useful when it came to turning people against each other.

"There are a few requirements. If you and the four other people I've spoken with tonight don't cause the deaths of at least five sick patients, then you won't get any reward." It was to show that in the end, they were doing a service for him, and he was the one who was truly in charge of this whole circus act.

As for the reward, well... It wasn't as if he was going to hold back on that, either. The sooner he showed his hand, the sooner he would have Izaya's true interest.

"What I had in mind as a reward would be that... I'm sure you've noticed by now, how when the good patients we call on to perform missions for us fail in their task, there's a punishment for all of you." It was a way to motivate those who were picked to actually get the job done, but it didn't always work. "If you succeed with this job, then you'll be exempt from all punishments."

He had a hunch that would work. Izaya didn't like feeling like he was just another part of the crowd, and this would distinguish him while also saving him some minor annoyances.

Izaya listened intently as Landel laid out the terms of what he was after. It was really quite simple when it came down to it: cause a few deaths and be rewarded for it. With five deaths and four other people beside himself having been recruited for the task, it even seemed easy... Only one death required per person.

As for the payment Landel was willing to offer... He couldn't say it wasn't enticing; after all, it was difficult to enjoy observing humans to the fullest when he couldn't maintain a distance from them. Maybe it hadn't been punishment for one of the missions, exactly, but the unpleasant memory of getting caught in the gassing of the cafeteria rose to mind at the thought.

"That's not a bad offer," he conceded. If he were to be exempt from punishments for such failures in the future... wouldn't it be fun to encourage people to fail them on purpose? "But before I decide whether or not to accept this job, allow me to clarify one last point. I'm sure there are many people here whose morals could be bent with the right amount of leverage," (and in fact, Izaya was counting on it), "so if I'm one of the five you chose to speak with, it's not necessarily a matter of looking for someone to carry out killings themselves. Keeping that in mind: as long as the end result is the same, I'm free to go about fulfilling your requirements however I prefer, correct? I can stick to what I know best—'spreading rumors and inciting hysteria', as you put it—as long as one of the infected dies as a result."

Taking matters into his own hands may have been the simplest course of action to guarantee the result, but it was also one that didn't interest him at all. He would much rather watch what others would do... especially the other four that had been called to the same task. Seeing how they went about things could prove fascinating.

Needing to clarify things was something he'd expected from the five patients he'd picked. Most of them weren't exactly stupid, and they knew better than to accept a deal with the devil, so to speak, unless they'd made sure they were clear on every point.

It was easy to see what Izaya was asking, even if he phrased it in a roundabout way. That sort of phrasing was one of the reasons that the man was so good at what he did, though.

"You don't want to get your hands dirty," Landel said, pointing it out bluntly. It wasn't something that he judged Izaya for, though, as he wasn't that fond of killing with his bare hands either. There were easier ways to handle something like that. "That's fine. So long as I get results, I'm not all that picky on how you go about it. So feel free to get creative." That's what he was hoping for, in fact.

With Landel laying out his implication so plainly, it almost sounded cowardly... not that Izaya minded. He would take being a living coward to a dead hero any day—if 'hero' could even ever be applied to someone with his kinds of hobbies—as long as it meant he was able to continue to observe humans.

"I'm glad we understand each other," Izaya acceded. It wasn't meant as his full agreement—not yet—but it was an indication, at least, that he was leaning towards it. Heavily. "With a job like this, I'm sure payment will be held until the delivery of results... so what kind of timeframe did you have in mind? A day? Two or three? A week?"

How long he had to work with would be the final, decisive aspect in accepting the job. It was always easier to cultivate rumors over a longer period of time, but with the illness... Too long, and the ever-resourceful patients might figure out a cure—and the opportunity would be lost. "I'd imagine it's a race against the clock, hmm?"

It was a question he'd been expecting from at least one of the patients, and Landel crossed his arms over his chest as he considered. The truth was that he hadn't quite decided yet. He wanted to see just want these patients were capable of and then go from there, and he was interested to see what sort of results were produced.

"It's not set in stone yet. It will at least be a few days, but you have to understand that the sooner this all takes place, the better." In reality, he was curious to find out just how quickly the patients would work.

"I imagine you'd like a more concrete answer, but you've worked under difficult circumstances before, haven't you?" It was a subtle challenge, a way to ask Izaya if he felt he couldn't perform simply because he was limited in terms of time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

End of Night 64: Head Doctor's Office - 3rd Floor

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