damned_institute | Day 28: Bus 1

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Day 28: Bus 1

Zelgadis was not happy, at all. Not that this was any change, but the events of the past few hours had given him more to angst about than usual. Nightshift had been dreadful: first he was attacked by a small green man and then covered in leeches, neither of which lead to warm fuzzy feelings.

And now this.

When the nurse had come into his room with new clothes he had a small glimmer of hope-- some thief had taken his normal Landel's wear in the night, so perhaps this was a change in luck. However, it was not the godsend he had hoped for. Minus the threat of sedation, there was nothing in the universe that could make Zelgadis wear a bright lemon-yellow shirt. There was a jacket of a slightly more tasteful variety, so Zelgadis made good us of it-- he put all his coupons in a pocket and pulled up the hood. It was almost as good as his cloak. Well, no it wasn't, but it would have to do.

With mild protesting, Zelgadis was lead to a large yellow vehicle. He climbed the stairs, took a seat towards the back, and readied himself for another frustrating day of being attacked and threatened with spoons.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If Landel's was supposedly such a well-funded institute, why did they give him a pair of old jeans and a muscle shirt for today? And a jacket, which really didn't fit at all. It was fairly consistent with what had been his normal attire... back in 1916.

At least he had someone to antagonize this morning. Forgoing any other options, Recluse sat down next to Marcus. "We really shouldn't have spent so much time waiting for your friends. Nothing important got done."

Hello, my name is Stefan Richter, and I'm here to ruin your day.

It was almost like old times. Seeing Recluse dressed like that... that was not the sort of clothing that fit with the image of Lord Recluse, but it was exactly the sort of thing Stefan had worn when they had been teenagers working on the docks together.

Marcus couldn't refute that nothing had gotten done, because it hadn't...

"I wouldn't call making dangerous chemical weapons important, Recluse."

"Finding the basement isn't important? I have a very good idea of where it's hidden." And making phosgene is important. Marcus was just too prudish about everything.

"I get the most work done when I only deal with one person or go by myself at night." Large groups just attracted complications. Just like at home, really. Arachnos had a reputation for incredible efficiency, but that only held up if you didn't look on a case-by-case basis.

"We should find the basement," Marcus agreed. "I only said that making chemical weapons isn't important."

And here he went, trying to get Statesman alone. Possibly because that would be faster, or maybe so he could attack him without anyone else to get in the way.

"Maybe you should go by yourself, then."

Recluse sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Irritation was making his sunlight-induced headache worse.

The exasperation was real, but the reason for it was feigned. "I'm genuinely trying to help you, Marcus, whether you believe me or not."

...He was trying to help the man, but he had more than a few ulterior motives. He wasn't going to mention those.

"I don't believe you. I will admit, you did give me a few weapons, so that's one point in your favor..." But Recluse was going to make chemical weapons.

"But I know how convincing you can act when you want to," That was the trouble with being such a skilled liar, when you genuinely wanted people to believe you, they had no way to tell if it was an act or not.

Statesman stared out the window. He didn't want to look at Recluse right now, not when he looked so much like the man he had grown up beside. Of course, he could still keep an eye on him in the transparent reflection of the window.

Recluse propped a knee up on the seat back in front of him--the only way it could fit in the small space--and left the other stretched out in the isle, not really caring if anyone tripped over it. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes to give them a rest from the sunlight. "If I was lying, I'd probably be trying to act perfect. And more agreeable." If he was lying badly, that is.

"Timothy Benton," The name Recluse had used while they had pretended to be cops back in the late twenties. "You were an irishman and one of the best coppers in London for three years. Don't tell me you don't know how to be convincing," Marcus knew first hand how good an actor Stefan... Recluse was.

Of course, he still had no idea if this was all an act or not, but his money was on the 'act' part. Statesman did not want to make the mistake of trusting Recluse.

"I can be. However, my only goal at the moment is escape. As long as you are willing to work with me, I don't care if you trust me or not." Being blunt to the point of rudeness sometimes backed up an act quite well... Maybe it would this time, as well.

"As long as you are only trying to escape we can work together. But I do not approve of you making chemical weapons," Since Recluse probably didn't have the proper things to contain it and use it safely. Not that there was ever a truly safe way to use chemical weapons.

Statesman was not desperate enough to consider chemical weapons an option.

"Of course you don't approve of it. It isn't exactly a heroic thing to do, is it? I'm using what materials are available." When it came to being a villain, those with morals need not apply. "I've already made thermite here, among other things." And he had a plan for a viable way to set it off at a lower temperature than would normally be possible. It just meant producing a chemical through an absurdly simple process...

Thermite. For some reason, Marcus was not surprised. The people running this place must not have known what they were signing up for when they brought Recluse here.

It would be a better idea to keep a close eye on Recluse and risk being betrayed than to let him wander on his own.

He needed to make sure Recluse didn't hurt any innocent patients when he set his plans in motion.

Recluse decided not to say anything more unless Marcus really wanted to talk, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. Not only did that mean that he didn't have to deal with the full force of the sunlight, but he also didn't have to look at Marcus. Which was always a plus.

Statesman tried not to notice the reflection of Recluse any more, paying it only the smallest amount of attention.

He looked so much like Stefan again, and Marcus once again had to wonder why Stefan had turned on him like that. Had it been Tartaros that corrupted him like this?

Then again... Marcus had to admit that he could very well have ended up just as evil as Stefan had. He had even come face to face with that darker version of himself.

"You couldn't have been missing that long. You're probably the Recluse of another dimension." One that was only slightly different than his own.

Recluse sighed. "Why would it matter? only minor details would be changed." He opened his eyes slightly, gaze flicking over to Marcus before starring at the ceiling. "In any case, I could list off the coordinates for Primal Earth, and the future opened up for Operation: DESTINY."

He didn't mention again that he could be gone for that long without anyone's notice. No reason to say anything more.

"If I'm right, your Statesman is still out there, and my Recluse is as well," While that would be a good thing for the other Statesman, he was concerned about his own dimension if they were from different dimensions.

Or that they were both being held somewhere else. After a moment Statesman decided that it did not matter that much to their immediate situation. Their dimensions were probably similar enough not to make a difference.

It would be of more concern when they found a way out of here, though.

Statesman took a bite out of his muffin, leaving only half of it.

"Then in your dimension I would be seizing this opportunity, and you wouldn't have a clue that anything had happened in mine. It's still not of any immediate importance." Why did Marcus have to be so dense when it came to anything practical? "What might be happening doesn't matter." Recluse looked down at his own breakfast, which was pathetically tiny in relation to his size. It really didn't look all that appetizing, and he certainly didn't want to be seen drinking out of a juice box like a five-year-old.

Hopefully Recluse would be busy trying to repel the Rikti invasion, even though Vanguard had claimed that it was there responsibility. Recluse couldn't enjoy having the aliens invading his islands.

Of course, Recluse continued to insist that no one would notice if he had gone missing, and Statesman wondered what Recluse had planned.

"I can almost hear the cogs grinding in your paranoid little mind, Marcus." Recluse looked over at him, quite distictly irritated. "I would ask that you kindly stop creating these little delusions to fit your hopes. They're all quite wrong."

"You are mistaken, Recluse," Thankfully, Statesman himself could be very convincing as well.

He took out the remaining half of his muffin and glanced down at the juice box, deciding against it.

Recluse chuckled slightly, making it quite plain that he didn't believe Marcus at all. He closed his eyes again. If he was going to be forced to be outside all day, then he'd rather give his eyes a rest now.

"And how exactly was that Rikti invasion going when you left?" He wouldn't get a real answer, most likely, but he could make a good enough inference out of whatever response he got.

Statesman was not bothered by the fact that Recluse had not believed him. It was to be expected, really. Recluse would believe whatever he wanted to believe and nothing would change that.

"It had just started, and a few old friends of mine had shown up. Vanguard was well prepared for it."

"Old friends?" Did that mean more people had returned from the dead? He hated when that happened.

Vanguard was... irritating. And he highly doubted Marcus would be all that enthusiastic to let them take center stage.

Statesman just nodded. "That's what I said." Of course, he wasn't going to tell Recluse what friends.

The less time Recluse had to plan for something, the better. Of course, he had already ruined some of the surprise, but Marcus was sure Recluse would be particularly unhappy to find out which member of the original Phalanx had returned.

Oh, wonderful. Being evasive. Marcus mentioned Vanguard. That wasn't the best piece of information, but it probably was linked to something... But with the Rikti breaking through the inter-dimensional barrier... "Omega Team?" It was the best stab at it that he could make.

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