damned_institute | Day 66: Game Room (Fourth Shift)

The game room, huh... In normal, everyday life, it wouldn't have sounded too terrible, but as things were, it seemed like more of an annoyance. Games were fine, but priorities.... On the other hand, Kyousuke seemed to have hit a block in figuring out the clues to the the illness, and just thinking without getting anywhere wasn't very productive, either. At this point, it may have been best to push it aside and come back to it fresh. He had his reservations about it, especially since the end of the day was rapidly approaching, but... Frustration wasn't going to get him any closer.

He poked around what games were there with resignation, still half wondering what he was even doing and trying not feel guilty for needing a break. After a while he came across an electronic device marked "Game Boy Color" and picked it up out of curiosity. He'd heard of those before... If he was right, this thing was older than he was, by quite a bit. Flicking it on confirmed his suspicions; the sound and graphics from it spoke for themselves.

Shrugging, he took it a random seat, wincing at the pain in his ribs as he sat down. He guessed it wouldn't kill him to mess around with this thing for a little while.

[Lloyd!]

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The sound of another patient speaking caught Scar's attention. He glanced up to see yet another one of the kids locked up here.

"Nothing about this place feels right," he grumbled, frowning thoughtfully at X as he sat down. "It's all just a front for whatever kind of freak show they think they're running."

The sound of another voice snapped X out of his thoughts, leading him to lift his head and face his new companion with a bit of surprise in his eyes.

...Well. He hadn't expected anyone to answer him.

But he was right, regardless.

Landel...

His messages with Zero earlier weighed heavily on his mind, the diagrams seared into his subconscious with the intensity of a blowtorch.

What was he trying to do? Why would he do this?

Did he really think he'd be able to get away with this? Take innocents and use them as his damn guinea pigs (why else would they be implanted with those...things?)?! These were people kidnapped from their homes, forced in here like cattle and treated like invalids, for reasons that X was unsure of.

"It all seems so senseless. What's Landel's game in this?"

X paused, letting out a small, humorless laugh.

"Of course, everyone's probably asked that question a thousand times already. Still...there has to be some way out of this place."

"I have no idea." Why he was in a particularly chatty mood was lost to Scar. (Chatty as a relative word, of course.) He was stuck in a desperate situation; trapped with little chance of getting out without hurting himself or someone else. And his sickness still made him ache all over.

He mentally berated himself for starting to crack under all the pressure of so many other people reaching out. Trying to help. It was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, to have people who cared for his well-being, but it still felt out of place. There was a reason he had avoided such contact for so long.

Inevitably, so many of them were only going to die.

"I have only heard of people leaving this place brainwashed or in body bags," Scar grumbled, glaring at the floor. He had to get out of here, though. That was beyond the question. He would break out, or he would die trying, for no reason other than to find his brother. There was no question about it. He would not fail again. First, though, he needed to rid himself of this sickness, which was another mountain altogether, it seemed.

"We need to figure out where the bastard is hiding." Scar's fingers clinched as he looked up to the now silent intercom.

Brainwashed.

Body bags.

Oh, how utterly delightful; what stock Landel allowed to leave could only escape in death or in the loss of mind. So it wasn't enough to shove strange things in their bodies, rip people from where they were from against their will, and treat them like playthings, but...

X clenched a fist, breathed in and out.

No point in getting angry. What would that accomplish? Besides, the man had a point: nothing could get done unless they knew where the perpetrator was.

But where did they even start searching?

"I don't suppose there are specific administration areas in this place, like offices and such. Though even if there were, he'd probably expect us to look there. That would be too easy..."

"I was at a doctor's office two nights ago, actually. I... do not know if there was anything to be found, though." Scar had been in a blood-deprived stupor when Tsubaki had dragged his half-dead body in there.

"Whatever the solution is, he is going to make it as painful as possible. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fun to watch." Just like the damn cure. It made Scar's stomach twist and his teeth clinch with rage.

"It's all just a game to him."

He clenched his fist, but willed himself to breathe. He'd seen people of this calibre before; well, perhaps not of identical or as diabolical ilk, but X was no stranger to men of evil.

But a doctor's office...it could be worth a look. Glancing down at his journal, X opened it up (fourth page, first line), scribbling a few quick words down. Nothing substantial, just to let him know that it was a good place to check.

"There is no other point for him to do it."

Landel was nothing but a twisted spectator in this freak show. He enjoyed abusing his power, enjoyed causing pain.

It was so terrifyingly like someone else Scar knew. Someone who ought to be dead.

But Scar himself should be dead, should he not?

"The offices are near the medical wing." He ought to at least try to be helpful. "The hallway on your left right before you get there, I believe."

Light scribbles on paper was the response to the man's words, information jotted down in a strange, cryptic shorthand.

As the final words were jotted down, X's hand tightened only a hair around his writing instrument.

"It's disgusting. People aren't toys to play around with; he's not going to get away with this."

He let out a breath; breathing consciously was a strange thing, to notice the feeling of air coming in and out of lungs that he never had before. Fascinating, but altogether foreign and strange...

How did Landel manage to do it? What technology allowed him to take others and place them in bodies like this?

That, like his other questions, could be answered later.

X glanced up, his eyes meeting his companion's.

"And thank you for the information. I'll have to keep an eye out, see what I can find."

He paused.

"My name's X."

Scar's eyes narrowed.

"Of course he is going to get away with this. We are powerless against him." He snorted. "The bastard thinks he's a god." That did not mean that he wouldn't get away, though.

"Scar." There was no given indication that 'Scar' was his name, but someone with (somehow) an even less creative name ought to figure it out.

"Pride always comes before a fall." X sighed, "He'll get careless, or just do something that will compromise his position. It might take time, but he will be brought down."

Glancing up, he gave Scar a acquiescing nod.

"It's nice to meet you. I only wish it was under better circumstances."

Though it was certainly a strange name, but no stranger than his own, he supposed. Rather fitting, actually, considering the large, scar-like mark that marred his face.

"Perhaps." Landel was smart, yes, but he was also proud. Scar's lip curled, the memory of Kimbley's taunting laugh as he transmuted his arm. That bastard's pride had certainly lead to his death.

The Ishbalan did not dwell on the fact that, in the end, Kimbley had won anyway. He couldn't bear to add it to everything else that was piling up.

"These circumstances are preferable to the ones I come from." He had a real bed. Constant food. Compared to the poverty he was used to, this was a damn good deal. Scar liked to think that he could handle the monsters and madmen.

Day 66: Game Room (Fourth Shift)

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Late tag is really late, I'm sorry.