Day 34: Lunch

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Yuffie bounced all the way through collecting her lunch, all the way to a good seat- one with a nice view of the whole cafeteria, which was something she'd been missing out on during the past day or so that she'd been stuck in the Institute- and hell, she even bounced into her seat.

A good mood? No, really?

Despite the occasional blip, talking to Sagara had been awesome. He was a fun guy; he wasn't a prude, didn't have a stick shoved so far up his ass it was poking out his eyeballs, and he'd actually had a conversation with her. One that hadn't revolved around doom, gloom or how much life sucked. If she could find other people like that and keep in touch with Sagara, maybe there was a little hope for this place.

After a quick gulp of pink lemonade, Yuffie settled to munching through her food and keeping an eye on the door.

[Waiting for Dean, I think? :x]

Comments

[2cuprhubarb.livejournal.com]

For the first time since arriving, GLaDOS was seated across from someone who found either her eating habits or the food itself repulsive. She even paused momentarily in her gorging to give him a flat look before returning to it. When her plates were cleaned and she was settled, she stared at the little boy across from her with the usual scrutinizing stare.

He certainly did seem petrified.

"It's not poisoned," she said. "Nor is it drugged. It's food, plain and simple, perfectly nutritious and suitably delicious, even if there is a distinct shortage of cake." When his facial expression didn't change, she continued. "If you're dependent on other food, I will look forward to watching you wither away as you starve to death."

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

Oh, that was it! It had been nothing but one moronic encounter after another, and frankly, Zim's already thin patience had all but disappeared. He was done, DONE, playing happy with these... these meat bag things. This was now the second one to mention poisoned food and the second one to issue a threat unprovoked.

If these things wanted to line up and beg him for death one by one, so be it!

He visibly shook with rage and actually growled like he was trying to keep himself from exploding (and was failing). All of the rage and frustration he had pent up within the last forty seconds or so seemed to burst out with the volume and passion of the first word of his sentence.

"YOU dare threaten ME?!!" He had jabbed an accusing finger forward to point at the offending woman. "You may hold the advantage now, gorging lunch-beast, but you shall see... YES! We shall SEE who witnesses whose withery doom when this is all over, you... YOU...!!" his whole arms seemed to be shaking from the effort it was taking for him to think of a suitable insult, "... YOU COW... BRAINED... HEAD!"

[2cuprhubarb.livejournal.com]

It was the first time in her entire existence that GLaDOS had been called either a gorging lunch-beast or a cow-brained head. She gave the boy a long, silent look, trying to gauge what exactly he was talking about. Withery doom referred to starvation, of course, but where was the advantage coming from? Height?

"Don't overreact. The monsters here will track down the loudest and devour them without hesitation." The idea of using him as a meat shield popped up and lingered. "There are no advantages here. Possibly I hold age, height, weight, and physical strength over you, but that's hardly saying anything. The only advantage held here is by those who run this place."

GLaDOS stared at his food. Well, he wasn't going to eat it. She reached across the table to grab his tray and yank it closer to her.

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

The accusing finger dropped itself slowly as he stared at the woman. It wasn't so much that Zim had a reason to stare at her as it was he seemed to need time to fully process what had just been said to him. The threat was forgotten, and he was in such a state of shock he didn't smack the woman's hand away when she reached for HIS food as he would have under any other circumstance.

"M-monsters?" His face and voice was one of horror, not disbelief. Monsters that hunted via sound?! He shifted horrified eyes back and forth as though looking for such beasts. "What is this?! What monsters?!"

[2cuprhubarb.livejournal.com]

Perfect. Another ignorant patient, now depending on her to provide the proper information. GLaDOS decided to delay the inevitable as long as possible and instead dug into the stolen food, finishing off half of it before she even began to answer it.

"Monsters come out at night," she said finally, meeting his eyes with her own emotionless ones. "We are free to roam, and so are they. Loud, screaming humans draw their attention much faster than quiet ones. I suggest you keep your mouth shut, or face the high probability of being eaten alive, horribly maimed, or blinded by eye-eating psychopaths."

Not that she'd run into any eye-eating psychopaths, but she was sure there had to be a few around the institute.

"I certainly hope you can fight." And now, more food.

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

Eye-eating night monsters that hunted for prey by sound?! Whether or not this was a ridiculous idea never crossed Zim's mind. On the contrary, he believed every word the woman said to the letter. He was now getting horrible, all-too-vivid visions of horrific, mutated beasts prowling the building, hunting for his superior Zim-meats.

NO! He couldn't let that happen! He had to get out of here before they sensed his blood! Looking around the room, he searched for anything that could possibly serve as an escape route. This search, however, was brought to an abrupt halt at the woman's idiotic inquiry.

"Eh? Fight?!" It was like a switch was suddenly turned on, and he was suddenly back to frowning at the woman. "Presumptuous fool! No one stands in the way of ZIM!"

What did he have to worry about? He was an Invader, after all. And Invaders feared NOTHING.

[2cuprhubarb.livejournal.com]

So his name was Zim. It didn't match any names in her database, regardless of language. GLaDOS chewed her stolen food thoughtfully and stared at the boy. To be honest, he hadn't really answered the question. Just because nobody stood in his way didn't mean he could fight.

"But can you fight?" she asked again. "People could be fleeing in fear from your reputation, whether deserved or not, or from your yelling, or from your stench." Not that he had a particularly bad stench, but it was an entirely valid line of reasoning. "Can you wield a weapon? Can you beat something to death with a metal pipe? Will you be willing to take the life of some inhuman creature, spawned from the worst nightmares of the most depraved scientists this world has ever created? Will you murder your own allies if they turn against you? Will you? CAN you?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, she went back to the stolen food.

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

Again with the stink! So this one had noticed the inhuman hybrid-stench as well! This was turning out to be a far more serious problem than he'd originally assumed. Did this mean this one knew what he was as well?

...No, if it knew, then it wouldn't have the audacity to ask him such stupid questions. Really, though, it wasn't the thieving beast's questions that were important here as it was the implications. Two important details could be pulled from this one's tiresome tirade.

Firstly, it sounded like there was some kind of gladiator-style battalion expectations here. Well, at least at night, since that seemed far from the case here so far. Was that what this place was? Some kind of human survival tournament? Zim could of course meet such requirements since he was amazing, but it was still utterly baffling. These things and their rituals and their facilities and their... beans.

Secondly, the woman had unknowingly pointed out the advantage Zim had here. '...Inhuman creatures, spawned from the worst nightmares of the most depraved scientists this world has ever created.' Humans were stupid and slow and stupid. Even their attempts to transfer his astounding self to this new, filthy flab of flesh wasn't entirely complete if people could smell the difference. Zim was an Irken Invader. He had been through with training and flying ships while these humans were still small and jiggly. Anything THEY considered a threat couldn't possibly be as threatening to ZIM.

"Make silence, pig-woman," he said, adopting a bit of a haughty attitude after his mental pep talk. All of the hand gestures he seemed to be making to accentuate his words as he spoke made it seem even more so. He also seemed to be getting louder the more he spoke.

"Your petty Earth threats are useless against me. You doubt my abilities to survive your 'gladiator trials,' do you? Ha! Not ONLY will I survive them, but I shall be the greatest gladiator-survivor this pathetic facility has EVER seen!! Then you shall come and beg forgiveness for the folly of underestimating ZIM!"

[2cuprhubarb.livejournal.com]

Pig-woman. Another name to put in her database of Things I Have Never Been Called Until Now. This boy - this Zim - clearly had a loose grasp on language, given the way he abused it. She could all but hear the font faces changing, the bolding and italics, the capital letters and excessive exclamation points. If this place ever needed someone to scream, he would certainly be one of the first in line.

"That wasn't a threat. It was a statement." All the food was gone. GLaDOS set down her silverware and napkin and set her hands on the table, staring intently and unblinkingly at Zim. "This is not a gladiator trial, this is murder. This is nothing but the pure intent to kill. This place wants you dead, nothing more. Gladiator trials at least assume you will survive from one round to the next."

And then she smiled, wide and awkward and with a murderous glint to her eyes.

"I wonder how long it'll take you to succumb."

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

There was something about the way this woman spoke that was far more deliberate than Zim was used to hearing from a human. Not that he was capable of being impressed or anything, but it made it a bit easier to understand what it was it was trying to say. That could have also been a result of the woman's patience and ability to brush off comments, but that wasn't important.

A gladiator trial that didn't expect you to survive. He understood the concept but that really didn't seem to be the case. The facility was so much like the Skool, to think they would turn it into an executioner's royale come nightfall didn't make sense.

Then again, this was human logic he was considering here. And that was something he couldn't hope to understand. It made absolutely no sense to him, but it made sense to these pudgy flab-beasts. Unless he wanted to be discovered, he would have to go along with it, no matter how ridiculous. But he still had no plans to be killed by these primitive rejects, or to stay for all that long for that matter.

But... What a horrifying ritual. He could see it now: Earth beasts running rampant prowling for flesh, humans with torches running about searching for sacrifices in order to survive longer, hands popping out of the vents clawing out in need of his Zim-flesh. He would have falling into another paranoid state of shaking had the woman not taunted him immediately afterward. Scared? Perhaps. Admit the probability of defeat? NEVER!

"Me? Succumb to this... filthy place?! NEVER! You speak nonsense again," he said, standing up and leaning forward to match the taller woman's challenging stare. "Zim succumb's to NOTHING, grub-worm. NOTHING! You will witness my victory soon enough." He pointed at her, trying to appear more threatening. "We shall see who has the last laugh come nightfall!"