damned_institute | Day 26: Cafeteria, Lunch

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Day 26: Cafeteria, Lunch

Scar felt cold and sick, though more the latter than the former. As he rose from his bed, he didn't quite know which way was up, and the artificial light coming from overhead seemed as hot and as blinding as the Ishbal sun.

His head hurt, but that was nothing new. After all, the last thing he remembered from the night before was fighting a homunculus off of Lust and then having a conversation about events best left forgotten. The man hadn't been his brother. He just hadn't. And if what Lust had said they'd done to her was true...

Scar stood with shakiness that he wanted to attribute more to a bizarrely weakened physical state than a mental one. Had he been knocked out by some kind of lurking monster before the morning had come? He felt as if he had been out for days, being a veteran of such circumstances, though as he took the practiced role of being an obedient follower behind the nurse and orderlies that came for him, it didn't seem as if much had changed.

This place was probably just playing tricks on him again, and he was tired of being the man left out of the loop. He grabbed some food he didn't really care for and sat down, not seeing anyone he knew already seated. On one hand, he wished he had someone to talk to, and on the other, it scared him that he was no longer used to being alone.

He dug his fork into his food and tried to block out any related thought.

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Bridget brightened up almost instantly and sat up straighter. "Another person was talking about Gears? Can you tell me who?"

He chewed on his lip. "Though.... Maybe they aren't the same... The Gears I know are all weapons, like with personalities and lives. Like people, only really powerful and programmed for certain things." He didn't know how to explain it without getting into finer details like Magic, the war and the theories behind Gear rights and all that mess.

From what he'd heard and seen so far, such talk wasn't going to get him far normally.

"And I guess that means you aren't a Gear either..." He slumped in his seat.

"Statement: Citan Uzuki. I am in the same cell as the meatbag." Who was annoyingly cheerful, most of the time, but had manged to get HK to eat. A rather dubious honor, but it meant HK hadn't passed out yet from lack of food...

"Negative: I doubt it. Few meatbags within known space would describe droids in such a way. Most treat droids as nothing but a brainless piece of furniture." Probably because human ego demanded that they not acknowledge the fact that the 'furniture' could be many times smarter than they were.

"Statement: I am, however, an assassin droid. The only unit in the latest model of the HK series. The older units were so effective, they have been outlawed. I am certainly not on par with the furniture, as most meatbags assume."

Bridget nodded, putting the name to memory. Maybe there was some way he could contact this other man and speak to him...

"That doesn't sound fair," he protested when speaking of the treatement of 'droids'. "And if you're the latest model of assassin droids I would think that would earn you some respect! You're the best, right?"

"Agreement: It isn't fair. Meatbags are always slow to realize the truth when their massive egos block their view of reality. And yes, I am the best. I was not created by the company that produced the HK line- my Master designed me personally. I was one of her solutions to the need to avoid large-scale carnage for the most effective results."

Bridget smiled and nodded. "That certainly does sound a lot like the Gears we've got back home." Though massive carnage seemed to be their favorite thing to do, they were capable of smaller acts of violence and cruelty.

Part of him was slightly nervous, but this one looked as if he weren't quite used to his body, so Bridget wasn't overly worried. This 'Master' ... She sounded familiar too..

"Your Master?"

"Statement: My Master is Darth Revan, Dark Lord of The Sith. She has recently regained that title from her traitorous apprentice and defeated the Republic fleet sent to destroy her." HK was quite proud of being able to say this. For so long, the memories of his original Master's identity had been locked in his memory units, irretreivable without the proper trigger.

That clenched it then. This man was not a Gear.

"She sounds very powerful," he said politely. "Though I can't say I know the name. Sorry."

Oh! Manners!

"I'm sorry. My name is Bridget." He smiled brightly. "What's yours?"

"Agreement: She is. She is also the only meatbag that I find brutal and efficient enough to be considered like a fellow droid, even if she was not my Master." Most of his Masters after his memory sealed off had been so annoyingly dense.

"Statement: My designation is HK-47. If it must be abbreviated, 'HK' is perfered."

Bridget thought about that. These 'droids' had to be pretty dangerous then. He smiled. Must...remain...polite...

"It's a pleasure to meet you HK-47." He tilted his head. "Or do you prefer your, er, designation shortened?"

"Statement: I perfer my full designation, but most meatbags tend to try to shorten it after a while. The results can be unliked, and I am now trying to preempt such things." He didn't want any nicknames, either. Rustbucket, clanker, boltbag... And many more, less polite monikers.

"Then HK-47 it is." Bridget lifted Roger from his lap. "This is Roger. He ... well, he was very similar to you," he frowned. "But he's malfunctioning and is also stuck with a 'squishy' body."

He needed to find out WHY Roger was offline....

HK tilted his head, more closely examining the fuzzy thing that the meatbag held up. "Query: Is he totally non-functional now?" HK thought it would be a very good idea to hide a small assassin model within a children's toy. No meatbag would suspect it! He would have to remember that- when he returned to his Master, he might be able to...

Bridget had gotten HK making evil plans. Jedi accross the galaxy should be sensing a disturbance in the Force, right about now.

Bridget nodded, setting the bear on the table for a better view. "When I woke up, he was totally off-line. I haven't been able to find out how they managed to do it..."

Nothing short of his own commands was supposed to render the bear useless as a weapon.

"Disgust: The meatbags that run this place are so cruel. At least I am partially functional, even if I have had to adapt my systems to functioning in this meatbag chassis..." HK looked at bit more at the non-fuctioning bear, and then down at one of his meatbag hands. "Statement: I find it bizarre that most human meatbags are incapable of accessing their basic subsystems."

That reminded him... He removed the bandages on his arms- all of the damage from previous nights was almost scarred over, with only the chunk that the avian had taken out of his arm still an obvious injury. It was weeping a little fluid, but it was not so deep as it had been last night. "I have been able to access the directives in charge of cell repair and division, effectively speeding the healing process. My Master can do something more complete with her own abilities."

Bridget wrinkled his nose at the sight, not out of disgust (he'd seen much worse), but because he didn't think the bandages were really ready to come off.

"It's interesting that you're still functional." And unfair, but he didn't voice that.

"That looks... bad. Maybe you should keep it covered. Even if you can heal it a bit, you don't want to get it infected or something, do you?"

"Agreement: Many of my functions are offline, but somehow, my movement commands have been mapped to this muscle structure. I am quite sure, however, that my processors have arranged things much differently in this meatbag brain than is normal." He had even rearranged the functions of the galnglia along the spine.

"Statement: The muscle was nearly severed last night. It should be mostly healed within the day, and I continue to improve my tissue regeneration. At the moment, it would be better to let the dead cells and surface components dry, to seal the damage." As it is, the bandages had kept it very moist, and therefore more disgusting than was normal for a human meatbag outer covering.

Bridget shrugged, but didn't look convinced. "If you say so..." Still didn't look good.

He turned away from the mess on HK-47's arm and looked back up at him, drawing the bear back into his lap.

"How long have you been here HK-47?"

HK pulled his sleeve back down over the wound, keeping the fabric from touching the still wet damaged area.

"Statement: This will be my third day here. I have yet to meet individuals who have identified themselves as having been here longer than that." Which was strange. He assumed that some on the message board had been here longer, but he had yet to meet any that identified themselves this way.

Bridget tilted his head again. "What can you tell me about this place? I don't know much, since we only woke up here this morning."

He hugged the bear a bit tighter.

"Statement: This facility is known as "Landel's", which seems to be modeled after the local equivalent of a psychiatric hospital. The staff of the facility will attempt to convince you that you have been delusional. During the night, the cell doors will be unlocked and free access is given to the facility. However, the staff are quite different, and quite hostile." HK took out his paper writing pad and two pens, a monochrome copy of one of the medwing nurses appearing from the lines he drew. He tore the completed picture from the notebook and handed it to the meatbag.

"There are also other hostile meatbags that roam the facility. So far, I have encountered a feline, a hominid, an avian and some sort of bizarre, freezing bugbag. That is the best description I can give for it. It was filled with insects."

Bridget, for all his vapid looks and childish mannerisims, took on a harder, thoughtful look at the picture and the offered information.

If that was all correct... He hugged Roger even tighter.

"Great.... Just what I needed."

HK closed the paper drawing pad, setting it neatly on the table in front of him. "Statement: There is a list of currently identified hostiles on the bulletin board in the Sun Room. I included pictures of all of the meatbags I have found so far."

"Query: Can you fight, meatbag?" If this little meatbag couldn't, then he would probably die. Which was almost a shame- HK was happy to find one of their kind that seemed to acknowledge their place in the order of things, as organic, squishy beings.

He nodded and made sure to make a mental note to check the 'board' at the first chance he got.

Bridget beamed. "Yup," he said cheerfully. "I'm a bounty hunter." His face fell. "Or, at least I was. But I can still fight!" He knew he could, even without his weaponry. He just ... hadn't... in a while. That's all.

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Day 26: Cafeteria, Lunch

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