damned_institute | Night 66: M1-M10 Hallway

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Night 66: M1-M10 Hallway

[M7]

Dinner went by too fast, and as the intercom announcement came on and the change to night officially started, Sora pushed himself to the edge of bed, caught in the tight hold of dread. He didn't want it to become night. He didn't want to change again. He'd gone to a lot of effort to make sure that he didn't end up repeating the events of last night, but something could always go wrong.

Landel cut to the chase pretty fast this time around, and no other clues were given out. Did that mean that the rebel group hadn't been able to get through, or had they just run out of clues to give them? Did that mean they were on their own? Sora let out a breath and tried to manage the panic that was bubbling up in his chest.

Link was still here. Sora had hoped that his roommate would make a move to leave the second that night came, but it didn't look like that was the case. Of course not. If Sora was honest with himself, he'd known from the start that someone like Link wasn't going to leave him alone here.

Sora forced out a shaky sigh. He didn't feel anything yet, but he knew that it wouldn't be long before the darkness started to take over.

"I know you're worried," he said to Link, "but it's fine. My other friend should be here soon, so..." He wanted as few people as possible around when the change went through. Hopefully Tsurugi would get here soon, and then Link could leave.

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Kratos barely registered that once again, Sora had managed to shake off a normally crippling blow before the monster's claws were once again headed his way, this time at eye level. He jerked back in an attempt to avoid them, but it was difficult to see them in the dark, and the monster had recovered faster than he, still only human, could move...

He staggered back with a strangled cry of pain, hand pressed to his face; Sora's claw had managed to tear its way across his forehead and down to right below his eye. He dared to remove his hand and look down at his palm, shining in the faint lights of the hallway. How deep was it? How...Meanwhile, the blood was beginning to drip down the entirety of his cheek; he could taste the saltiness of it at the corner of his mouth.

There was no time to tend to it now, though; he couldn't leave Tsurugi alone to deal with Sora. Wiping what blood he could off on his shirt sleeve, Kratos looked up in time to see the boy collapse as the aura around him--what sort of powers, part of his mind wondered for a moment--melted away into thin air.

Not even bothering to see where Sora was, he gathered himself and sprinted toward Tsurugi as fast as he could. He had to get there first, or else Tsurugi would be at the monster's mercy.

The creature's claw sliced through skin like it was made of paper, drawing blood. But he'd missed Kratos' eye, the most vulnerable place, which meant that it might not be good enough.

The Heartless didn't even have a chance to consider its next step, to figure out who to target and where, because Tsurugi raced toward him, enveloped in a sudden burst of power and energy. It was the power of his heart, cloaked around him like a suit of armor, and that all crashed right into Sora.

Thrown back, he hit the wall and then collapsed to the floor, body slumping with what registered in some part of his mind as pain. His head spun from it, but while that had taken a lot out of him, he was still in better shape than Tsurugi himself, who had fallen to the floor.

The Anti-Form picked itself back up slowly, trying to avoid the light even now. These two were weakening -- if he kept at it, then he could take them both down. Wouldn't that be a treat? Two hearts, and strong ones at that.

... This was bad. Kyousuke couldn't even begin to comprehend how he'd managed to drain himself so much by using so little, but he didn't have the luxury of being confused, because the fact was, he had next to no chance of defending himself right now. He had to recover quickly, before it was too late.

He wasn't out for the count quite yet, but the consequences of exhausting himself were far greater than normal. He only barely held onto consciousness, and the only thing he could really manage to do was stagger his way back onto his feet, but even that didn't last long. Once standing, he swayed awkwardly, every muscle in his body screaming at him protest. In the end, he didn't have the energy for it, and sank back down onto one knee.

Not yet... He couldn't afford to be done yet. He tried yet again to stand, but the attempt was even more pitiful than first, and he didn't even make it onto to his feet.

There was a sheepish moment when Lloyd realized that he'd completely forgotten to ask for Karkat's name, that he'd been so caught up with the news that Ishida was missing that he hadn't noticed when Karkat hadn't offered his name in turn.

"Karkat, huh? Well, I guess it could have been better circumstances, but I'm glad to meet you, Karkat." A belated attempt at manners was better than nothing, right? It was also true. He was glad to have run into Karkat. Otherwise he and Inoue wouldn't have realized Ishida's plight.

Once inside the bedroom, Lloyd took a good look around. For the most part it looked just like his room. No sign of a struggle, no immediate hints as to which way the nurses might have taken their friend. He glanced at Inoue to see if she had spotted anything. She knew Ishida better than him.

And if he happened to also look to make sure that she was still all right, well, that wouldn't stand out since he was already looking at her.

"What do you think?"

When Mikado turned towards him, Izaya got his first good look at the boy's face—and it was... surprising. His eyes widened a fraction in confusion before he purposely blinked it away, turning his face to scan the hall for any unwanted company and to hide his expression until a sociable smile was firmly back in place.

He'd thought the bandages had been for some head injury when he'd first spotted them, but with the placement of that patch, they couldn't be for anything else but his right eye. Whatever had hurt him must have been more intelligent than your average overgrown animal—or perhaps Mikado's luck had just been especially bad? He'd ask about it (oh, he'd ask), but unfortunately there was another question he had to ask first:

"And?" he said, looking at Mikado once more, now that the surprise of the bandaged eye was long passed. "What was it you wished to talk about?"

In the end, a Heartless was stronger than an average human, and so the Anti-Form settled itself on its feet before Tsurugi managed it. Its yellow eyes fixed on the boy, struggling to get his balance, so weak -- and yet that heart was pulsing in his chest, calling to it.

This was it. This was its chance.

In the blink of an eye, Sora raced forward and forced Tsurugi back to the ground. He still remembered the attack from the night before and his claws sought out those same spots, looking to open up the wounds he had already given Tsurugi.

But then one of his claws settled right above Tsurugi's chest and started to dig in, trying to push past flesh to the boy's ribcage. If it could wrench that open, then it would finally get its prize.

He tried, but in the end, there was no way for Kyousuke to resist. His arms had too many deep cuts to act as a shield, and he didn't have the strength to try and push or kick Sora away. The claws sank right through his shirt and the layers of bandage, slicing away his scabs and digging even deeper. In an instant, his chest was covered in blood, which began to pool out as his heart rapidly pumped more into the wound.

As the creature tried to pry past his ribs, he gave a strange, strangled-sounding inhale, and his breath became ragged and disjointed. He could barely even breathe anymore, and something metallic was beginning to build in the back his throat. In face of this, he still struggled, still tried to put of some kind of resistance. He fingers fumbled weakly and blindly, trying to find the flashlight he'd lost in the scuffle of being pushed down again. ... He didn't know why. He wasn't even sure what he was doing. The only thought in his mind was that he had to do something, because it couldn't end now, not here, not like this. But he couldn't even grab it, his fingers too slick and weak. The handle slipped away from him, pushing the light towards them so that he could see what was happening to him far too clearly.

In the end, Kratos simply could not get there fast enough, and as he watched Sora slam Tsurugi into the ground, a familiar wave of panic overcame him--not because he was worried about Tsurugi, but because suddenly, time was rewinding. Breakfast earlier had caused him to recall that regrettable incident outside Altessa's house; the scene unfolding before his eyes now was doing much the same, except the memory this time was far more disturbing.

He knew well how that memory resolved, too, had even experienced her manner of death for himself, but in the moment, his flashback-induced panic became so world-shattering and frenzied that all he could think about was the possibility of Lloy--Tsurugi dying and the need, the absolute need to stop the monster - it was no longer "An"--"Sora" - at all costs. And those two combined proved potent enough to overcome the last of his self-imposed restraints, so that when Kratos finally collided with the two, it was not with the intent to simply subdue, but to destroy.

The approach was even simpler than his previous, carefully avoided two-step attack: a powerful thrust aimed to pierce through the upper back, fueled by the singular desire to save Tsurugi at any cost.

The boy beneath him was nothing more than prey now, laid out and bleeding, his heart throbbing underneath his ribs, as if it was trying to push its way out. Maybe it realized that its home had been disrupted, that it could no longer remain in that body. Maybe it would come to him.

The Heartless was ready for it, even lifted its claw high above its head so that it could give the killing blow, plow its claws deep beneath Tsurugi's skin and literally pry his heart from his chest--

But then, two things happened. The flashlight rolled in just the right way to shine on him, which served as the first distraction, and then Kratos came in with his sword, piercing it through him from behind.

The blade, which might have had a harder time cleaving through the Anti-Form's dark skin otherwise, made its way cleanly through thanks to the light. The tip of the blade forced its way out on the other side of the Heartless' body, through its chest, and black smoke spilled out of him like blood.

When the blade was removed, Sora collapsed to the ground, half on top of Tsurugi.

... There was nothing else he could do. Kyousuke swallowed thickly, trying to dispel the contents that risen to his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the inevitable. All that was left was to be ripped apart, and while he was resigned to it, he didn't accept it; even knowing what was to come didn't stop the waves of panic and dread and the voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to move. ... But it was over. He was already lost.

Yet that final blow, the source of all his dread, never came, and wondering why, he risked opening his eyes. The black creature remained over him, claws still poised over its head, but he was less focused on that than the steel tip now protruding from its chest. He could only stare it at as black rose out from where it had penetrated, stare more as the blade was removed. He watched helplessly as the body fell at his side, looked up the man standing over him, and back to the dark mass that had fallen on him, in a state of pure shock.

...What...? What just happened...? The pieces were all right there, but they didn't add up, no matter how much he looked at them, he couldn't begin to comprehend them. He just... He didn't understand. Even the pain and heavy bleeding from injuries was forgotten, as he lay frozen in bewilderment.

Vantas-kun. She would have to ask him about what kind of name it was later, as interesting as it was (Vantas -- it was always difficult for her, pronouncing the V in English class) -- but for now, there was the room.

If it bothered her at all, being in a boy's bedroom, then the feeling was shadowed over by more important items of interest. Her eyes were intent as she searched the room; Ishida-kun was as neat and tidy as ever, and it didn't take her long to determine which side belonged to whom. Not that she assumed Vantas-kun was messy per se, just... after knowing Ishida-kun for so long, it was really no contest.

If she had more time, she'd dust for fingerprints. Try to improvise a black light out of the flashlight she'd tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants. Alas, she had no access to luminol, and the clock was still ticking -- no time for her to play detective.

Thankfully, she didn't have to think very hard to figure out what to do instead.

"Is this your journal, Vantas-kun?" A little rude, perhaps, to open it before waiting for his answer, but... "Ah, this is Ishida-kun's handwriting, I think... Yes! I think it is!" Orihime flipped through the pages, searching -- not reading so much as scanning for key words, pictures maybe. After all, it wasn't very kind to go about reading Ishida-kun's diary, if he'd used the journal for such a purpose.

It wasn't long until she stumbled upon a picture of a... map? Yes, there was the Sun Room, the cafeteria -- it was a map of the first floor of the institute. Most of the hallways were labeled, too. A boxed space labeled 'Greenhouse' had a question mark written right next to it. So too did some of the doctors' offices, the group therapy rooms...

But despite that, a map of the second floor was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe... we should check upstairs," she mentioned, almost offhandedly as she clutched at the journal in her hands. The lines were blurring on the page no matter how hard she focused, but her gaze was firm when she lifted her head. "There's nothing in here about it, but... it doesn't seem like Ishida-kun could be on this floor."

Edited (asdfsdfasdf so so so sorry for the late response, you two :'( i have no excuse ;;) 2012-10-28 22:18 (UTC)

For a few seconds, his mind remained blissfully blank, but as soon as the monster's body hit the ground, Kratos realized exactly what he'd just done.

He feebly reminded himself that Sora had asked him to do whatever it took to stop him, that he would have wanted him to protect Tsurugi first and foremost, but that argument hadn't meant much the first time something like this had happened, so it certainly didn't hold any water now. In fact, nothing else seemed to be taking hold other than four words, cold and damning, that repeated themselves over and over in his head: 'What have I done?'

Thus, all he could do for several, long seconds was stare back at Tsurugi in utter shock, heart pounding loudly enough in his ears to drown out the world around him, even the sensation of blood dripping slowly down the side of his face. Finally, though, Kratos tore his eyes away, and in doing so, seemed to return to his senses.

He wiped his face again on his sleeve, struggling to keep his arm from shaking, and dared to look at Tsurugi again, this time seeing the dark stain on the boy's chest, although the recognition came slowly, as if he were wading through a dense, mental fog. He had to...he had to take care of that...couldn't let him bleed to death...

Kratos reached out with a hand and directed what little focus he still had on Tsurugi's injuries as the spell ring blazed out from beneath his feet. "First Aid." The mana obeyed sluggishly, finally leaping out and surrounding Tsurugi's chest with a faint green aura before the spell began taking effect.

Kyousuke heard words being spoken, but in his current state they didn't register, nor did he try to process them. Soon a gentle, refreshing light fell on him, sinking into his chest and helping repair the wound. It didn't completely heal it, but it took care of the worst of it, patching together the parts that had been cut the deepest, so while his chest remained sliced open, the bleeding slowed considerably. He began to cough up some of the blood he hadn't managed to swallow, but there wasn't enough to be worrying; just the last remnants from a particularly severe penetration that was now (mostly) sealed.

He attempted to sit up, or at least his body did; mentally, he had completely shut down, and seemed to be moving on autopilot rather than consciously. The attempt failed, however, and he ended up laying back down immediately. He was still physically exhausted, and he'd lost a lot of blood, so even trying to lift his head was dizzying to the point of nausea. Even if he made it to his feet again, he'd only end up blacking out.

So in the end, he simply stared up at the ceiling, unnaturally quiet, even for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice telling him to be upset and angry, but he didn't have the energy even for that. He couldn't even think to try to move the body still half on top of him. He couldn't think or feel anything at all, still too stunned to process anything.

... For the most part. For reasons that had nothing to do with his injuries, it was somehow hard to breathe, and he found himself tensing up, still unable to move.

It likely didn't have any to do with the healing spell that Kratos that had just performed, but slowly the darkness started to peel away from Sora's skin, flaking off and disappearing into thin air as he slowly reverted back to his own form.

His claws became fingers again. His eyes, while closed, were no longer yellow. His clothing was splashed with color once more, until he finally looked like a boy again.

But what had also stayed was the wound in his chest and his back, and the blood that now stained his body. His chest didn't move. His fingers didn't twitch. He was completely still, draped partly over Tsurugi. There was no way for the two to ignore what had happened, even if it had been necessary. And if he looked slightly peaceful even in lifelessness, maybe that was for the best.

Journal? They had journals? Oh right, those books. His handwriting was terrible, though. Writing on the board had been bad enough. Not to mention that, seeing as there were no computers with time jumping technology here, he could easily foresee himself getting into arguments with things he'd written a few days prior and then get irritated when his past self couldn't argue back. It was really pathetic when you thought about it.

Still, it might not help to write some things down. His roommate had some foresight in that department at least, not that it seemed to have given them any real big leads.

"Upstairs? You mean like how we were right by the staircase before you two nook-draggers decided there might be something important here? Yeah, that sounds awesome. How about we go march right the fuck back to where we were as if this whole bit of hoofbeast shit hadn't happened. It's not like I told you beforehand this would be the case or anything, except I did." Oh right, and there was that other thing he'd wanted to deal with while they were here.

He gestured toward Orihime, still glowering. "But you. Sit down first. I'm tired of watching you wobble around like you stuck your head in someone's recuperacoon for too long."

Lloyd shot Karkat an irritated look. Did he really have to insult them like that? "Hey, we didn't know that was where we needed to go. It's not like you knew either." The fact was, though, that they were going to have to backtrack now, which did make it feel like they'd wasted time. That only made the scathing remarks hit that much closer to home. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled roughly, trying to breathe out his frustration. "I told you, we had to start somewhere. I asked if you had any better ideas, and you didn't."

Still defensive, he nearly shot back a retort in Inoue's defense - that is, until he looked at her himself. He was still being rude, probably insulting (what was a recuperacoon?), but he was unfortunately right. Inoue didn't look steady at all.

"Inoue, are you all right?"

How much had that healing taken out of her? Or was this a symptom of something else?

There was something admittedly refreshing about the way that Vantas-kun spoke. And sure, there was definitely a bite in the way he spat out his unusual words -- nook-draggers and hoofbeasts and recuperacoons -- but having someone tell her that all of this has been a waste of time, was a welcome reminder that they'd been going about this all wrong.

It wasn't the time to sit back on their haunches and think, was it? When Ishida-kun was in danger and time was of the essence. But wandering around the first floor getting lost was probably worse, she thought. It wasn't too much of a waste in that sense, doubling back to check Ishida-kun's journal.

Orihime didn't try to push the unspoken point.

"I'm fine," she said plainly, still standing, back straight. Her arms felt heavy holding the book in her hands; she was tired, her ears were buzzing, but she was fine. "I'm just a little clumsy on my feet sometimes... Ah. But I guess we haven't known each other very long, so you wouldn't know. I trip a lot, but I'm durable. Thank you for the concern, though!" And it wasn't like she'd stick her head into any racoons or anything. Poor things.

"Let's go," she insisted, placing Ishida-kun's journal back on the dresser. "Ishida-kun is probably waiting."

Edited 2012-11-03 23:44 (UTC)

Karkat didn't know why he was even surprised people didn't listen to him anymore. It had become something of a trend back in his world, so why should it be any different here? And he wasn't buying that line about being clumsy for a second. He knew clumsiness. This was exhaustion, plain and simple. Something was wrong with her and she was insisting on being difficult about it.

So why should he care if she wasn't going to? It would only become his problem after she collapsed in the hall and he and her friend ended up having to drag her the rest of the way. No big deal there, right?

He sighed, rubbing a hand down the front of his face. "So I guess we're going upstairs, then. Fine. I mean, I could sit hear and stare at the walls all night, but that sounds only marginally less entertaining then the current plan."

He hardly doubted Ishida was just 'waiting' for them, either. The way she said it made it sound as though she expected him to just be sitting at the top of the stairs looking impatient that it had taken them that long to follow the nonexistent trail of bread crumbs he'd left behind. Things never worked out that easily.

If Karkat was skeptical, Lloyd was, too. While he was used to having a friend who constantly tripped over everything, he also knew that that same friend often tried to pretend that everything was all right and no one needed to worry even when she was slowly losing her humanity and preparing to sacrifice her life. The thought that Inoue might be sacrificing herself made him frown a bit.

"Are you sure?" He gave her a searching look. "You won't be able to help Ishida if you're too tired when we find him." He moved over to pick up the journal, flipping through the pages back to the maps Ishida had drawn. "He could stay here for a few minutes and make a plan for which way we want to go." And give her time to recover. That totally wasn't a transparent plan, though.

Still annoyed with Karkat's attitude, he huffed out a breath. "You know, you don't have to come with us if you don't want to. I just thought you would since you're Ishida's friend." Amazing how his mind made the jump from "roommate" to "friend," but there it was. Well, the other boy had come this far with them, and he had done what Ishida had asked.

[forever late...]

Mikado wondered if he should ask about something else. But, in honesty, he had no one else to go to that he trusted, and it wasn't as if Izaya had said it bothered him. The boy glanced downward with his good eye, his weight shifting as he moved his feet nervously. "Um, I was going to ask you about this," he said almost shyly, bringing a finger to touch the edge of the bandage on his face. "It happened last night."

But there was something else as well that he wondered, from his conversations today. Something that actually made no sense, but while they were here.... "And I was wondering if you knew what day it was. Because there were people talking about being infected and things like that, and I-- The last thing I know of was the buses stopping when we were coming back from the town." And those giant birds, but no need to bring that up again.

More than anything, it was the roll of nausea that was the hardest to ignore. Orihime tried, reminding herself again and again that they'd wasted enough time already -- that as the seconds ticked by, Ishida-kun was left to the perils of experiments and unknowns. But as Vantas-kun and... Lloyd-kun continued worrying over her, the bits of adrenaline still remaining in her system were flagged back into far greater waves of exhaustion; it took all she had not to submit to the heaviness still clinging to her limbs.

"He didn't draw a map of the second floor, but... none of the rooms he drew on the first floor looked promising. Perhaps you could look, Lloyd-kun, after all..." I could be wrong, stuck to her tongue, made it difficult for her to continue as she shot the boy a meaningful look. She swallowed the lump in her throat; her hand gripped the belly of her sweatshirt. "I know... If I'm too tired, I'd only get in the way. But I'm not," I've been through worse -- "and besides -- Ishida-kun would do the same and more."

"We're friends and," she steeled herself, her voice hardening, "I have to do this. No more fooling around."

With that, she turned to Vantas-kun; her tone was serious, but her eyes were bright.

"If Vantas-kun prefers, he can stay here with his head up a recuperacoon for the rest of the night."

Ah... how convenient for the topic Mikado wished to discuss being the very same one that had piqued Izaya's curiosity. He could find out about it easily this way, without having to watch his words at all.

Just as he'd opened his mouth to ask about it further, Mikado continued—and this time, Izaya was taken aback. The night when the buses stopped on the way back from town... hadn't it already been three days since then? Now that he thought about it, Izaya hadn't seen Mikado's face since that time, but for him to have no memory of more than a day, either...

A part of him wanted to withhold that information, to see what Mikado might be willing to trade for it—but how long it had been was the sort of easily-obtained information that the boy could find anywhere. It was more surprising that he hadn't found out already, actually. That he'd actually come to Izaya to ask... well, that alone was a kind of a payment in itself, if he thought about it.

—That and whatever else Izaya might see from the boy at learning the day.

"Ah... It's been a little while since then," Izaya answered. "The trip was on Saturday, wasn't it? So today should have been Tuesday."

He waited a moment for the information to sink in, watching Mikado carefully. Then, in a sudden movement, he leaned in towards the boy and gestured towards the patch over his eye. Upon further inspection, the bandage really was covering the injury neatly; there wasn't so much as a hint of what had happened showing...

"So, how did that happen?"

"I might be insulted if you actually knew what that was, but you obviously don't." In any other instance, her comment might have been amusing, but for now he was just going to roll his eyes.

That didn't mean Karkat wasn't a little moved by what she said, though. He had his own friends he'd do just about anything for, even if he didn't act like it, and he could respect the fact that she was willing to push herself this hard to help her own. He just wasn't going to outright say as much.

"I said we could go upstairs, didn't I? Someone's going to have to drag you around after you pass out, anyway. If I left it up to genius over here I might actually feel bad." It was a bit of a jump to assume he was Ishida's friend. Everyone always jumped to that sort of conclusion, just as he was going to jump to the same conclusion about their relation to his roommate. He wasn't even going to bother arguing about it, since it would probably just be a waste of breath.

"Just get your shit together and we'll go."

It's been a little while since then.

There was a moment before it sunk in, the separation of days, and then Mikado was leaning forward, good eye wide with anxiety and disbelief. As if realizing the close proximity, he took a stuttering step backward, raising a hand to hover near his chest. His mind moved backward. "...I don't remember Sunday or Monday at all." Because, to him, there wasn't a Sunday or Monday. His time started again when he was strapped to that table, and that was... Monday night. His hand clutched at his shirt front, words a murmur. "...What's going on?"

It was perhaps a show to how unsettled the boy was from losing time (or having it taken away) that he answered Izaya without really making a show of it. If he spent the emotion to care, he would have responded normally, like any other fifteen-year-old after that kind of situation. But Mikado was still struggling to find memories that weren't there. "I woke up strapped to a surgical table. There was something implanted behind my eye."

At the word 'eye', though, Mikado's attention snapped back and he swallowed, blinking at Izaya. "The man knew a lot about me." And Mikado's own desires. Desires that had gone unrecognized to all, except for the man in front of him now.

Izaya enjoyed seeing Mikado's reaction at his own news—the delay before the widening of his visible eye, the step back and his words, his confusion—but that information paled in comparison to the news Mikado delivered in return: he'd woken up strapped to a surgical table. That meant...

He'd been selected for an experiment. A smile tugged on the corners of Izaya's lips at the thought, while he barely kept a laugh from escaping his throat.

How exciting! He never had found out whether Celty had any memory of the procedure that had attached her head to her body, but here Mikado was, his memory of an experiment conducted on him intact even if his memory of the days leading up to it were absent—or perhaps he only had a portion of that memory? There had been something odd about his report, after all; a lack of passion or association—or perhaps just a lack of fear? Was it simply because of the situation, or did it run deeper? He'd had something so out of the ordinary (when compared to a normal, everyday life outside these walls) happen to him, and yet... Even though he'd been here a while already, and even though he was the subject of the experiment, wasn't it still an extraordinary experience? Wasn't it a kind of escape from an ordinary life?

"You mean the doctor who operated on you?" Izaya asked, focusing for the time being on how much 'the man' had known about Mikado instead of giving voice to his musings. "I'm not surprised he did. Have you had a chance to meet with any of the... therapists before? Even if they act like we're completely different people, it seems they know all about our lives. In that regard, it's not so much of a stretch to think whichever doctors experiment on 'patients' have that knowledge as well."

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Page 3 of 4

Night 66: M1-M10 Hallway

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Just going to sneak one last post in here...

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