damned_institute | Day 34: Breakfast

[starting off in M13]

The last part of the night was little more than a blur in Homura's mind. The men had rushed in, but not joined them, instead staying off to themselves. Before any of them had a chance to react, however, a voice sounded through the air, mocking some other person Homura had never heard of, and the patients themselves.

To Homura, whoever that man was, he sounded a great deal like a god.

But before he could ask questions, the demi-god found himself no longer in the chapel, but some strange room on a bed. Is that what Kenren had meant from his earlier warning? Homura sat up, glad at least that the world didn't spin when he did so. Then the same man from before began to speak again, with a completely different tone. It was confusing to hear him talk that way, calling them patients instead of prisoners as he had before. Homura listened quietly as the announcement was made, then got out of bed.

Maybe he wouldn't have to go anywhere yet. It wasn't like Homura knew where to go anyway, and that meant he had time. If this was his room, and if he had been here as long as Kenren had said, there was a chance he could find something with answers. The Taisho had even told him that Homura had seen Rinrei. Certainly he would've written something down, made a map, something that could let him find her again! He started with the desk at the end of his bed, first finding a small stack of notebooks. Picking up the first, he flipped through, turning the pages with quickening desperation as he found each one to be blank.

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Recluse looked up sharply when he heard the familiar voice. "Ghost Widow." Things just kept on getting better this morning. "By all means, sit." He gestured to the chair across from him. "You're the only other villain from our dimension here at the moment." He glanced around the room and spotted Marcus, his expression darkening. Without looking down, he turned to a fresh page in his notebook and began to write, talking as he did so. There was no reason to withhold basic information about this place from one of his lieutenants. "There are complications beyond the immediately obvious, however. Every night, the prisoners are allowed to move about the facility, but there are hostile creatures and mutant variations on the staff that will attack on sight. At the end of the night, every prisoner wakes up to find themselves returned to their room, with any wounds incurred bandaged and no memory of how they were returned there. An energy shield surrounds the facility and prevents escape over the walls, but some unknown outside group disrupted the shield last night. Some made it outside, but all seem to have been returned to the institute in exactly the same manner as everyone else."

He tore the page he had been writing upon during the briefing out of his notebook, handing it across the table. His jagged handwriting spelled out everything he couldn't say out loud. Statesman is here. It's likely he can hear anything being said in this room. As far as he knows, I have been here for three months. I have been cooperating with him most of the time. He is being kept under the impression that I am slowly 'reforming'. It gave him the chance to have an ally that he knew how to control. And when this was all over, Marcus' guard would be lowered. It would make for a perfect opportunity.

Ghost Widow placed her tray on the table and sat down. For all intents and purposes, she was now at work. Lord Recluse didn't look too much like how she was used to seeing him, but he was still lord of Arachnos and therefore her superior. She was surprised to feel relief at that - for too long, she had been unable to feel anything at all - and so she tried to hide her relief. Emotions, as much as she had missed them, were superfluous here.

Instead, she focused on the information he'd told her. The fact that they were trapped her was troublesome, but she was determined to overcome it. If she could beat death, she wouldn't let this get to her. "So, this is another dimension." It would explain why she had been unable to contact the Fortunatas upon her arrival. "I assume you have your own plans on how to return, my lord?"

She read the page he had handed her, as well as the pen. All of Lord Recluse's lieutenants knew the code he was writing, and she wrote back in the same. I will cooperate with him as much as you will allow, if that is the will of Arachnos. However, your timeline concerns me. You were present in Grandville as late as yesterday. She had a feeling he was partially responsible for the Destined One turning on her, which led her here. She had been busy with her own plans at the time, but Lord Recluse's disappearance would have caused too much chaos within Arachnos to ignore. If they could bend time and turn their staff into monsters at night, what else were they capable of?

"Yes. However, resources are very limited. All weapons are co-opted items found within the facility, or made by hand. I can supply you with blades." He also had those claws scavenged from one of the creatures. He still needed to put those to use...

He took both paper and pen to reply. I was taken from 27 February 2007. Twelve days have passed here since then. Statesman arrived seven days ago, reporting the date as 24 July 2007. Speculation as to why this has happened is next to meaningless without evidence.

"I would appreciate that, my lord." She wasn't sure if it was the right time to mention that her powers had faded. Failure was never acceptable in Arachnos, especially something she had no control over. Could he still have her killed here? There were no Arbiters, no soldiers to execute her for her failure, but she had only just come back to life. The spells that had bound her to Arachnos did not guarantee her life, nor she was absolutely certain they affected her here. Perhaps, it was better to keep quiet on that matter for now.

She took the pen and paper once more after reading his response. How peculiar, but I suppose it is a red herring. An escape plan is much more important. I do not wish to be held prisoner while being treated like a madwoman. She had been given the opportunity to live again, and she wasn't going to let anyone take that from her.

"There is a message board in the Sun Room that the prisoners use to communicate. It sometimes has useful information." He gestured in the direction of the room.

The note was glanced at and a reply quickly given. Taking or gaining information on whatever brought us here and killing those in charge is the more immediate objective. I do not wish to be returned to this place after a succesful escape. One last question was added as an afterthought. How much of your powers have you retained?

"I will keep that in mind. Are there any maps of the grounds itself?" She replied, following his gesture.

She read his response, and it made her wince some. If they were going to work together, he'd find out how much she was lacking soon enough. Very well. Are there any among the patients who know more about the institute than you've already discovered, or will that information have to be obtained from the staff? She couldn't use any psychic force to overpower them, but she'd do whatever it took to be successful.

Her next response was more hesitantly written. My connection to the Netherworld has been mostly severed, so I suspect I can only heal and hold enemies at bay. I can sense moods and presences, but cannot manipulate them. I should have return to the state I was at before my death, so I cannot explain the loss of my psychic abilities. She suspected that her dark abilities were dampened by her state of life, but she didn't want to voice that concern, lest it be used against her later.

"I have one." He turned to a different point in his journal, ripping out the pages. He had them memorized, anyway. There are others that may have explored other areas that I have not, particularly the basement. He had marked out the room on his map where he knew the hidden trap door lay, but he'd always been too busy to bother following the little path that Landel wanted them to follow.

The diminishment in power was to be expected, but it was not as dire as he had thought it might be. This place dampens all metahuman abilities. The mechanism by which this is induced is unknown at present. He added another note as an afterthought. As far as Statesman and any of his allies here are concerned, I am going by my old name. Stefan Richter. He absolutely hated it, but it was necessary. Without many physical signs of his power, of what made him so different from Marcus and the rest, it would be easier to convince his adversary that he was reverting to what he once had been.

Day 34: Breakfast

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