damned_institute | Day 32: Cafeteria, Breakfast

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Day 32: Cafeteria, Breakfast

Sylar's gears were still turning as the nurse and a burly orderly escorted him down long halls and through a strange, sunlit room. He'd been forced to drop his pen when the orderly had seen it, and since then, he'd realized that this place had better security than he'd originally anticipated, as well as a large population of patients. It looked like he'd have to bide his time for now, pretending to be this 'Zachary Blaine' and trying to figure out how the hell he'd gotten here.

His mind went over and over the events in Mohinder's lab, tracing every second that led up to his unconsciousness. According to the computer logs and the decked-out loft, Mohinder was working for the Company now, so had that woman with the electricity been an operative? Was this all a Company front? Even so, it didn't make sense for them to drop him off somewhere without any close supervision. They knew how dangerous he was. How special he was.

But right now, his abilities had been nullified and he was left only with the option of playing along. It was a very good thing that it was something he excelled at, even with his sudden loss of the cure clouding his thoughts and telling him to do something drastic.

Still, it was fun to take ahold of strings and let someone think they were pulling him when in fact he was the puppetmaster. Who knew? Maybe he could find a new toy now that his last one had worn out.

Sylar took his syrup-covered waffle to a table and tried to keep track of both the security and the people flooding in. Soon, he'd find an opening, a weak link he could exploit. It was only a matter of time.

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And everything hadn't gone well after all. Hijikata did not allow this shock to show on his face, though the sudden stony set of his muscles was no doubt revealing enough to Homura. He hadn't been there, and Souji and one of the puppies had been injured as a result.

He let a few breaths' space of silence swell before he nodded shortly. If Souji said he could use his arm, then that was the case; however, that said nothing about whether he should be using it. Hijikata was well aware of just how far Souji would push himself before he admitted he couldn't continue.

His fork clacked against the plate as he set it down a little too hard and pushed his chair back, looking around the room for Souji or the puppies.

"Which of them was injured?" His voice held a snap of command, insulting to someone who, for the moment, commanded him, but Hijikata did not bother to moderate his tone.

Homura watched in silence as Hijikata grew tense, wondering just what it was the man expected to do. Neither of them had the ability to heal, after all, and Homura hadn't seen MOMO enter. But then Hijikata made a decision, rising from his chair with a sense of urgency and panic, and even demanding a name from Homura as if the demi-god were making a report.

Homura knew well enough that Hijikata was a type who could only be led for so long; he'd learned that the first night they'd worked together. But Homura had become the type who couldn't be led at all, perhaps for too long, and the question brought a frown to his face.

"You might as well sit down, Hijikata. There's nothing you can do right now." Homura didn't answer the question, and wouldn't until Hijikata took his seat again. If there was a remote chance someone would end up sedated, Homura would rather not take it. "And despite the hell they put us through, the day staff does a fairly good job of treating wounds. At least until they can be healed more thoroughly."

Though that was something Hijikata should know first hand, wasn't it?

Subordination had never been Hijikata's strong point, but it didn't grate nearly as badly as condescension. He shot Homura one of his stronger glares. He was not doing this on a whim; he wanted to see for himself how severe the damage was.

"I'm aware of that," he rumbled, clenching his hand on the back of his chair as he moderated his reaction. Angry - and, under the anger, worried - as he was right now, he was still rational enough not to want to draw the nurses' attention. "Did you meet them afterwards, or get a report on that message board?"

If the latter, he was even less inclined to trust the description of Souji's injury.

Hijikata's glare was met with a cool gaze, Homura unflinching even in light of the man's anger. At least now the man was making an attempt to calm down, if it could be called that. Considering he hadn't gone over and throttled Okita, who was sitting only a few tables away with some man Homura didn't know, the demi-god supposed he should be glad for the restraint.

Still, it would be nice to finish what he needed to tell the man before he ran off.

"The common board. It's customary for reports from the night to go there." And easier than meeting with everyone individually. Though Homura did want to speak to Zuko, or at least be able to get the files from the boy. That, however, would come later. For now, Homura would have to deal with this. "Are you intending to make them strip right here so you can see their wounds? I've offered Okita the night off if he needs it. Meet with him later, and if you think its necessary, you can make him take it." A simple enough solution, at least in the demi-god's eyes.

As much as Hijikata hated to admit it, Homura had a point. It helped that he'd spotted Souji a few tables away, one arm resting in his lap but otherwise appearing uninjured. He'd talk with the younger man later.

He huffed out an irritated breath, and sat down again, glare moderated to a merely intense look. It was obvious enough that Homura intended to tell him something; the History Club's leader wasn't the sort to try and keep him at the table out of a desire for conversation.

"Say what you mean to say," he ordered, taking up his fork again and spearing one of the fried things.

At least Hijikata had sat back down. That was something, even if his tone was once again a leader to a subordinate. The problem with it was that Homura had enough problems with Adelheid’s close-minded anger, the puppies’ youthful rebellion, and Sagara’s confrontational rashness. The History Club had enough of a time getting good quality members. These internal problems, particularly when made so public, could force away those who would otherwise be potentially useful.

Homura didn’t need it from this man as well.

“I hold no illusions about you following my orders over the long term, Hijikata.” Homura had an eye for talent, and experience enough to know that having that talent for his own often came with such a price. The tricky part came in paying it without too significant a loss. “It’s why I try to give you and Okita both consideration when it comes to the night shift tasks. But regardless of what our arrangement is or becomes, I am not one of your subordinates, and I expect you to remember that.”

Perhaps it was taking issue with something too simple. But at the same time, Homura had fought too hard to earn his freedom, to make his position more than the convenient way for Heaven to dispose of its waste. He would not step back now.

“Adelheid will be coming to your room tonight to make you a sword. Hopefully it won’t take long.”

Hijikata chewed thoughtfully on the fried thing. Some sort of vegetable, and not as bad as he would have expected. Swallowing, he fixed a serious gaze on Homura and laid his utensil down again.

"Nor am I your subordinate," he said without anger. "I'll work with you for now because we share a goal." And Homura would get no more respect and deference than he was willing to give - but Hijikata left that unsaid. There was little point in being confrontational at table.

That said, though... he tilted his head slightly, the barest sketch of a bow. "Sorry for my rudeness. Any plans after it's made?"

"I wouldn't expect otherwise." Expect or even allow. Those who chose to give up their will to become gods were one thing. But Homura wasn't one to accept those who willingly became submissive to another without good reason. For Hijikata to do so would go against his character, or so the demi-god thought.

Still, the issue seemed resolved, and Homura was willing enough to let it go with the man's apology. Hijikata wasn't a god, after all. Simply a mortal rather used to being in charge of his own struggle. Homura could appreciate that.

"That depends." Homura had of course, been considering it for some time. "There are people interested in joining our ranks, so I'll have to see how they can best be used. As for you and Okita, however."

Homura grinned slightly, thinking of the two options. Both were tempting, and perhaps he would leave it up to the other men. "I was thinking we should either go to the basement, or give another attempt at gathering keys from nurses. Both would be worthwhile exercises."

Hijikata wasn't inclined to follow the subject further. Letting it die, he speared another of the fried things and nodded thoughtfully at Homura's two options. Gathering keys was an obvious enough mission; some of the doors in this place had locks that no amount of pounding would open. The other, though...

"What's in the basement?" he inquired, curious.

Homura shook his head slightly. "I don't know." That was a large part of its appeal, of course. Potential and promise, two things that had attracted Homura to ventures as well as people. But he had to consider more than just his desires in order to succeed, and with Kenshin's decision regarding the nurses, the man and his friend had to be kept in the dark.

"There is a chance I will find out more about the basement before nightfall. And I will be trying to send a group down there regardless." Out of their numbers, there had to be a team that could be formed suitable for the venture. Homura would have to see if Kenren was planning on rejoining them that night; the Taisho's inclusion would make that particular group easier to form. "It might be more difficult, however. This is one of the nights they take patients to fight against other patients."

Not that it would stop Homura from having a group try. He just knew it would limit their chances of success.

One of the nights they "took" patients..? Well, that explained the fights had seen breaking out the night before last. And this was a regular thing... Hijikata nodded slowly, turning the new information over in his mind.

"And the nurses' keys... useful for doors whose locks we can't break?" he mused. "It might be better to collect those before exploring the basement, depending on how many locked doors there are in it. Where does one find the nurses at night?"

Was this the first time Hijikata had heard of the nightly torture? It was true that their number had been fortunate, with no one set against the patients or injured by doctors. Still, that luck would only last so long, particularlly as their numbers grew, and Homura had to be prepared for it.

"I would assume so, yes." Homura gave Hijikata the time he needed for consideration, glad enough to see the man on board with the idea. "Hopefully there will be enough to do both. Since Himura has decided the nurses are human and will interfere with attempts to kill them, it's better that he be assigned elsewhere." Far away from what would hopefully be a slaughter.

"There are several nurses stations on the grounds; I will give you a full map tonight, if Okita hasn't already."

Hijikata nodded. "I have a map." He'd nearly memorized it, though in the dark and confusion of this place's night, it would still be best to carry the paper with him. So the nurses kept to their positions, did they? Useful information.

He preferred not to be in the same group as an ex-Choshuu assassin... even more one who had taken a useless vow of pacifism. But if that was the most useful allocation, he supposed they would be able to work together. Not against the nurses, though. Nighttime was short enough without infighting to delay them.

"Homura could be assigned to reconnaissance or gathering supplies if we don't have enough members for both nurse-hunting and the basement," he mused aloud.

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Day 32: Cafeteria, Breakfast

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