damned_institute | Day 30: Cafeteria, Dinner

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Day 30: Cafeteria, Dinner

The cafeteria was all but empty when Zelnick got there. He was a little disappointed; he had gotten the impression that patients usually ate dinner in their rooms, so he hadn't arranged to meet anyone, and there really wasn't anyone to sit by and engage in conversation yet.

Quietly, he collected dinner and a big glass of orange juice, and chose a seat near the food-serving counters. Talking for so long had made him thirsty... and, well, fruit juice was a luxury he had missed.

[Stalk away, my dearest Admiral. <3 ]

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The headaches were getting worse.

After a wholly uneventful day (and night! damn it all to hell.), Crawford was escorted, to his slight surprise, into the cafeteria for dinner. After the uprising and lockdown from the morning, he was a little surprised that they hadn't forced them all into their rooms for every meal. Maybe an attempt to dislodge their psyches; maybe just a better place for a watchful eye.

He didn't know. (He should.)

It didn't take him long to spot Schuldig and Farfarello and join them, his expression as flat as always.

"And I see you've obtained critical information along with that little distraction. I look forward to hearing how you got it."

"And what monster had the gall to cut your pretty face, hmm?" Farfarello laughed, quite relieved that Schuldig hadn't gotten himself seriously hurt.

Farfarello was never particularly happy to see Crawford, but it was a good idea to get the team together for a meeting at least once a day, he did have to admit. Pity it seldom worked out that day. "I assume you're talking to Mastermind here, because my information is, at best, interesting."

"No monster would dare." Schuldig rolled his eyes. "It was a rock shard, believe it or not. I made it down to the basement last night, and you wouldn't believe the sort of shit they have down there. A room full of giant boulders, for one. Still, you should see the rest of my group." He laughed. "A back full of shrapnel, a dislocated shoulder, and a broken arm. I got off lightly."

Schuldig grinned at Crawford. "Anyway, I've got plenty of intel on the basement now, if you're interested. And as for you," he said to Farfarello, "I've found some psychopaths you might have some fun with."

Crawford gave Farfarello a sidelong glance. So they both had information which, while not necessarily critical, would certainly be useful. It made a spire of wrath twist and jab in his mind; was he the only one who had nothing to share? The implications of this branched in his mind, and his mouth twisted slightly with restrained rage.

"I don't have anything to share, unfortunately." His voice didn't waver, didn't struggle in the least; his emotions were, as always, tightly held within the vicious mental barriers of his mind. "So let's hear it."

"Basement sounds fun. For another night. My ribs are still iffy. Especially if we're talking boulders. But new playmates has potential." Farfarello chuckled, and paused to take a bite of the pork. Too much sauce. Oh well, it was meat. He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

"Hmm. I answered a request for information on the bulletin board. Someone wanting to know about volatile chemicals and how to combine them. He didn't really know much, but it confirmed what I've been thinking--all the monsters and freaks in this place, there's a lab in here somewhere. And a few chemical fire bottles, or even just some lye, wouldn't be a bad thing to add to our arsenal."

"Oh, now he's mad," Schuldig laughed, blue eyes fixated on Crawford. He'd spent too many years with the man to have not learned how to read his face if he couldn't read his mind. "Your night wasn't interesting, Crawford? What a shame. But at least your face is still pretty."

Well, Farfarello had tossed out some information; now it was his turn. "There's a discolored tile in the walk-in freezer at the back of the cafeteria; below that is the basement entrance. It's a surprisingly classy place; no less glamorous than Takatori's ballroom, Crawford. You don't know what I'm talking about, of course, Farf," he said as an idle aside. "Some of the doors are held shut, but three grown men or so can move them enough to slip through - convenient for us. And, unsurprisingly, it's more than a little dangerous, though probably nothing we can't handle. And for our convenience, I've got the beginnings of a map to the place right here." He tapped his temple.

A laboratory and the basement. Crawford's eyes narrowed a bit as he heard about the basement; why a ballroom? Likely to throw them all off even further. If the basement was so ridiculous, it was unlikely the laboratory was down there; if it was, then they would be getting two birds with one stone.

Regardless --

"Then that's your aim for tonight, again." He glanced over at Farfarello. "I take it the two of you will be going your separate ways until your ribs aren't broken?" He, personally, would go with Schuldig; if Schwarz stayed as a group, all the better. He could easily traverse the basement or look for chemicals for weapons ... so long as, in the end, he actually did something.

(The lab was slowly gaining favor with him, though. His head was still throbbing, a low, deep pain in the back of his head - it wouldn't take much longer for it to hit him in full force.)

"I wouldn't mind backup finding the lab. It's probably on the second floor. Most of that kind of shit is. But if you really want to hit the basement again tonight, yeah, we're splitting up again." Farfarello looked to Schuldig for confirmation of the lab's whereabouts--surely someone had found it by now. If not Wesker and William, then someone stumbling onto it while exploring, maybe.

"Right in one," Schuldig agreed, grinning at Farfarello. "East wing, for the record, near the morgue. Someday I really ought to sketch out maps for you two, but I haven't gotten around to it yet." Stretching, he added, "But sorry, Farfarello, I think you're on your own again tonight. The basement's too intriguing not to explore further, and frankly I'd like to take Crawford with me while I can; half the time I don't see him at all." He shot Crawford a look to make sure that he knew this was in fact a veiled complaint. "Besides, there has to be something of interest down there past those rooms with the boulders and fog and whatever other improbable shit they might have to throw at us; I can't imagine they lined up those obstacle courses for no good reason. And the more we investigate, the sooner we can get further. At least there weren't monsters, so we won't be hurting terribly for your skills, Berserker. If we went anywhere else, who knows what we might run into."

He glanced at Crawford again. "Think you're up for it, fearless leader, or is your head bothering you too much? I'd hate to have to go with Weiss."

"My head," Crawford said dryly, without too much irritated inflection, "is fine. I've had far worse." You should know that. "Exploring the basement is a worthwhile goal."

He glanced over at Farfarello again. With two separate goals, they would cover twice as much ground. He had little doubt that Farfarello could take care of himself, even while injured; clearly he'd gotten by last night fine.

"Inform us of whatever you find." An obvious statement, but one he voiced anyway. "And of any difficulties you run into." Given the repeated comments on the bulletin board of what sort of monsters lounged in this place and his own limited first-hand knowledge of them, Crawford had begun to build up his own internal bestiary. (And, of course, the uses of such monsters - whether alive or dead.)

"I'll check out the morgue, too, if I have time. Might have autopsy tools somewhere." Farfarello could use some disposable blades, like scalpels, that he could risk throwing. Not to mention the thought of a cordless bone saw... that'd be seriously nice.

Nodding to Crawford, Farfarello turned his attention back to his meal. Seemed like plans were set for the night.

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Day 30: Cafeteria, Dinner

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