The Head Doctor (
head_doctor) wrote in
damned_institute2012-07-18 11:34 pm
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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.”
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.”
no subject
"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."
no subject
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."
no subject
"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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
"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."
no subject
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.
no subject
"Acceptable," he finally said. "We shall see how this game runs its course, then."
At least it was an interesting bit of play.