damned_institute | Day 65: Intercom, Evening

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Day 65: Intercom, Evening

As some of the clouds from earlier began to clear, the intercom jingle sounded over the intercom once again.

"Hello, patients!" came the Head Doctor's cheery voice. "I hope you're all feeling fresh and clean this evening! To top it all off, we've prepared a scrumptious herb chicken dinner for you to eat before bed. Of course, we have vegetarian options available, so please don't hesitate to ask the nurse if you're interested in that.

Also, since we have the pleasure of welcoming a few new patients into our family, some of you will be receiving new roommates. Let's do our best to give them a nice, big Landel's Institute welcome, shall we?"

The Head Doctor gave a friendly chuckle. "Well, anyway, enjoy your dinner!"

With that, the intercom shut off.

[Note: All dinner threads are posted in response to this entry. Be sure to check the Roommate Assignments if you're not sure what room/roommate your character has! Thanks.]

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Dinner was possibly the worst hour of the day. It was a time full of anticipation and anxiety for the coming night, trapped in a room while waiting for the inevitable and wondering what precisely would be happening this time. A very thorough way to kill one's appetite, if he were to be honest.

But tonight he was more anxious than usual. The bulletin messages regarding what was found yesterday had him nervous... not of the institute but of the "patients" within it. This illness that had been going around had been a hot topic of paranoia for several days straight now, and it was going to get to people. Especially since they all got a firsthand taste of what it meant on the buses. That odd scribble discovered in the medical wing, however, didn't really bode well. A... butterfly in a stomach, was it? He'd copied the picture put up into his notebook.

Judging by some of the bulletin reactions, some people were taking it to mean they should be cutting into other people's stomachs in order to... what? Kill patients who have been turned into monsters effectively? Cure them? They didn't even know that basic fact for certain, did they? It was a disturbing thought, regardless. If he were to be optimistic enough to believe it was an honest message about a way to help those afflicted, then he was more willing to believe that picture was only the first clue amongst several to be offered. He certainly wouldn't jump to the conclusion of cutting someone open. But others were a different matter.

Klavier sat at his desk, ignoring his dinner, and opened his notebook to the page with the copied picture. ... A random clue, given for no discernible reason other than possibly making people come to the conclusion of vivisection. Was it even worth trying to read other meanings into this message? It might not even be legitimate. Maybe it was all just another part of the game.

No one had approached Barnaby during the last shift, nor did the nurse try to find him a conversation partner. The show of mercy in that regard was unusual for her, but it was possible she recognized how miserable he felt, even if he tried not to advertise that fact. Either way, he appreciated the peace and quiet, even if it was short-lived.

When the nurse finally wheeled him back to his room, Gavin was already seated at his desk and looking over his notebook. Neither of them had found the opportunity to speak much over the past couple of evenings. As research-oriented as his roommate was, Barnaby had no doubt that he'd be keenly interested in the latest events.

To be honest, it was the last thing he wanted to discuss with someone he barely knew, but Barnaby realized they couldn't avoid the elephant in the room forever.

"Enjoy your dinner, gentleman," the nurse told them before shutting the door behind her.

Barnaby, who was parked in front of his own meal, politely nodded to his roommate in greeting. If he remembered right (which wasn't always a guarantee these days), Gavin had been asleep yesterday evening. It was good to see that he was up and about today, if only because that meant he was probably in decent health. Not everyone was so fortunate.

It wasn't long before the door opened and a nurse escorted his roommate in. This was the usual pattern and hardly warranted any excessive attention. He looked up from his notebook more out of habit than any actual concern. However, rather than following his nurse into the room, he was quite literally brought inside. Or more specifically he was wheeled in on a wheelchair and casually placed in front of his dinner as though everything was perfectly alright.

It was this fact which made the nurse's parting remark suddenly seem exceedingly annoying.

Brooks looked about the same, otherwise, both physically and in mood. But Klavier couldn't bring himself to just brush such a thing aside as though it was all expected and normal. So his roommate's simple greeting was not immediately returned. Klavier simply stared, unable to keep the surprise off his face.

"Herr Brooks... What happened to you?" Injuries, he'd seen plenty of. Broken fingers, stab wounds, burns, and even an entire half of a person's face wrapped in bandages. But this? This was worrisome even for this place.

He'd expected such a question, but even with his private nature, Barnaby couldn't feel too bothered by it. For one, he simply didn't have the energy for it. For another, he knew he'd want to know if their positions were reversed.

"My partner and I were attacked by Lingormr, who was apparently under the influence of 'Special Counseling' last night," he calmly answered. If Gavin had been reading the bulletin board, then he probably saw references to that whole disaster. Barnaby pursed his lips.

"He had the ability to cast illusions and operate under a cloak of invisibility," he added. "As a result, he managed to wound both of my legs before I realized what was happening."

That didn't touch on how Barnaby had pushed his body beyond its limits by activating his Hundred Power, or how he'd nearly bled out in the process. That wasn't relevant to how he'd gotten the wounds themselves, though, so he kept that to himself.

It took Klavier a few moments to place the name "Lingormr," but the hint regarding Special Counseling helped him remember. There had been someone under that name apologizing on the board, and they had gotten quite a number of responses. Apparently, this Lingormr had been very busy last night.

The specific details of the attack caused Klavier to frown, however. There was a good deal of... odd occurrences, shall we say... in this place. He had grown to accept a certain degree of them to a point. Invisibility cloaks tended to veer more on the side of ridiculous. Casting illusions, however, could mean anything. Magic? No. But something that could be interpreted as such. Between the staff and patients like Nigredo, it seemed there was a somewhat consistent theme of people who were capable of altering thoughts, memories, or perceptions. With that, it would explain perceiving "invisibility" with regards to another. He supposed. So that verified at least one other person with that sort of thing in the patient body. Great.

"I see," he said gently. "...It sounds like it could have been a great deal worse. It's a relief you managed to escape. They aren't broken, correct?"

No casts, it looked like. Not that it was much of a consolation for such a terrifying-sounding assault, but it was one small spark of optimism within the mess. ...He wanted to ask if his friend was also alright, but in the off chance something more dire had happened to him, he left that be. A friend getting murdered in this place wasn't the sort of thing one pressed on.

"No, they're not broken, thankfully," Barnaby said with a small nod. Although he was no stranger to injuries, the thought made his stomach turn. When it came to fighting, his legs were his greatest strength. He hated to think what would happen if he'd fractured both of them. Either way, he realized his roommate didn't necessarily have to ask after his condition. "I appreciate the concern."

And though he hated the institute for what it had done to him, and ultimately to everyone else here, he knew he'd dodged a bullet the moment he woke up this morning.

"To be honest, I'm surprised they patched me up at all," he added with faintly furrowed eyebrows. "I'd started to get the impression that they didn't care whether we lived or died, and that this--" Barnaby gestured toward their warm chicken dinners. "--was just a facade. After all, they probably had the power to move us out of harm's way when the buses didn't reach the building before sundown a couple of nights ago, but they didn't."

That was exactly why didn't trust this place to spare him or anyone else in the future. Actually, he still needed to verify whether casualties actually occurred or not, but now wasn't the time to go rifling through the morgue. Like much of the institute, Barnaby was dealing with more pressing concerns, like the lovely rash creeping up his pale arm.

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Day 65: Intercom, Evening

M12

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