http://damned-intercom.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
damned-intercom.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2007-07-28 05:08 am
damned-intercom.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2007-07-28 05:08 am
Night 25: Intercom, Late Night
The intercom came on with its usual nighttime crackling, though this time the Head Doctor seemed to be in a calmer mood than he had been in before. His tone was cool and his breaths were even as he spoke, even if his speech itself contained the same megalomaniacal ranting as usual.
"Hm. Perhaps I'm overestimating you, Radio Man. Perhaps I'm putting too much stock in how much sway you have over the patients, in how much you can truly help them. Why, yes, even I am capable of admitting my errors, as few and far between as they may be!"
He coughed, cleared his throat, and continued.
"But enough of that wretched man, dear patients. I believe it's time to announce something grand, something new about this Institute. Oh, yes, we're always coming up with new surprises for all of you, as undeserving and selfish as you all may be, but luckily for us, the new secrets of this building may only be opened by those of supreme wit and physical prowess. Allow me to give you a hint, in fact, much like the savior you all put so much stock in: Down is the way you want to go if you want to uncover the secrets of this place, ladies and gentlemen, though uncovering the keys to knowledge will be far more difficult than any of you can imagine."
A pause, and then he sighed and chuckled lightly.
"Not that I imagine many of you will succeed in the tasks ahead of you, though perhaps the newly-arrived members of Group 4 will be able to assist all of you in your future endeavors. Good luck to you all, though I doubt you'll make much use of it."
The intercom slowly died down into a small whine, then silence.
"Hm. Perhaps I'm overestimating you, Radio Man. Perhaps I'm putting too much stock in how much sway you have over the patients, in how much you can truly help them. Why, yes, even I am capable of admitting my errors, as few and far between as they may be!"
He coughed, cleared his throat, and continued.
"But enough of that wretched man, dear patients. I believe it's time to announce something grand, something new about this Institute. Oh, yes, we're always coming up with new surprises for all of you, as undeserving and selfish as you all may be, but luckily for us, the new secrets of this building may only be opened by those of supreme wit and physical prowess. Allow me to give you a hint, in fact, much like the savior you all put so much stock in: Down is the way you want to go if you want to uncover the secrets of this place, ladies and gentlemen, though uncovering the keys to knowledge will be far more difficult than any of you can imagine."
A pause, and then he sighed and chuckled lightly.
"Not that I imagine many of you will succeed in the tasks ahead of you, though perhaps the newly-arrived members of Group 4 will be able to assist all of you in your future endeavors. Good luck to you all, though I doubt you'll make much use of it."
The intercom slowly died down into a small whine, then silence.
M61
Duo groaned audibly into his pillow, the image of Deathscythe’s wrecked form surrounded by a multitude of explosions still flashing across the back of the young pilot’s eyelids. Damn that OZ! It was bad enough that they went and totally trashed his Gundam into oblivion, but did they have to do it on public television?! He could still hear the cheers from the surrounding civilians echoing through his head, and it was making him sick.
They’d come to outer space again to help the colonies, so what was their problem, anyway?! The Gundams were the only allies they had now, but OZ had suckered them like a bunch of schoolyard kids with promises of ‘help’ and ‘peace’. What a load of BS.
Nothing like being backstabbed by the people you’re fighting for, huh?
Grabbing the pillow, Duo threw it across the room in frustration and flopped back down onto the bed. Bad idea, as he winced in pain from his actions, his injuries not quite fully healed. Damn it! How was he supposed to sit back and rest when things like this were happening? It was pretty fucking hard, all things considered, but he still needed to sleep.
Deathscythe may be gone, but the God of Death was still here, and he was gonna make sure OZ’s lives were a living hell. Somehow.
----------
When Duo opened his eyes again, it was to the excessively annoying sound of an intercom. Except, his room didn't have an intercom last he checked. And that wasn't any voice he recognized, either. Despite how groggy he felt, the pilot scrambled into a sitting position, staring around at the dark room.
A thin beam of moonlight shone through the window. So, at least it was still night. But this definitely wasn't his room. Standard bedding, impersonal furnishings, and--what the hell--some creepy as hell kind of uniform, which made no sense. Unless it was psychological torture. Oh, yeah. That worked.
But that aside, this place looked like some kind of cell. Damnit, if he was in prison again, Heero was going to pitch a fit. Or shoot him. Yeah, probably the latter, after all the trouble he'd gone through to get him out of Barge. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to scream in public like that... A wanted man wasn’t supposed to call attention to himself. Apparently.
A careful search of the room turned up a flashlight under his pillow, a journal, a radio...and an open door. That confused Duo the most. Who the heck was going to leave a prisoner's door unlocked? That was just asking him to walk out and raise hell in the process.
"Well, if they're gonna be that convenient, I might as well oblige," Duo muttered to himself with a smirk. Grabbing the flashlight and the radio (Was this old-fashioned or what?), the gundam pilot headed out into the dark hallway. Time to show these guys, you don't mess around with the God of Death...
Re: M61