damned_institute | Day 37: Breakfast

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Day 37: Breakfast

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A new prisoner. Wonderful. Beatrix's gaze slid over to look the blonde woman over, noting the unusual eye color and the slightly pointed ears. Would this one claim to be an elf as well?

"Somewhere in the southern New England region of the United States of America," she replied. "You're new - a shame. Welcome to Landel's Institute. I'm sure you've been given the patronizing schpiel from the staff, so I'll tell you the truth of this place. It pretends to be a mental health facility by day and by night the doors open up and all us prisoners are let loose to run around the halls like rats in a maze, fighting creatures and encountering things that never existed in our own worlds, while the man behind it all, Martin Landel - the one on the speaker -jerks off to our misfortune as we're forced to play his game of survival horror."

The Bride stabbed a piece of sausage and bit into, uncaringly, watching the woman with her own intense gaze. The reaction was always interesting. How much denial will this one be in?

All it took was a mention of the word "game" to spark Ophelia's interest. True, she preferred games of her own creation, but there was sometimes fun to be had in playing by the rules of others. And, of course, in finding out how to break those rules for the sake of having even more fun. A dark grin crossed her face, suddenly a little more interested in what this strange new place had to offer her.

The description still far from satisfying as far as she was concerned, though. "I've never heard of a region by that name before. Strange, given that all forty-seven regions of the land are known and have been settled for centuries. Where exactly are these 'United States'?" she asked, picking up the dull-looking knife on her tray and staring at it as she turned it over in her hands. She imagined herself driving it into the eyes of whoever this "Martin Landel" was, watching him beg for his life as she then slashed his throat with it. "In any case, I doubt that any creatures that mere humans are able to round up could be any match for the creatures I have to deal with on a daily basis. Even without my strength, I can surely take whatever they can throw at me" she added.

Though, the fact that she had had trouble with the two human women still gave her an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. She ground her teeth together softly under her projected smile. She supposed she ought to ask if this woman knew anything about what was concerning her most. "Does anyone know how this Martin Landel is able to sap all the power from one's body?" she asked, trying to keep up her calm appearance despite her eagerness to know the answer.

If this woman didn't know about the good ol' USA, she was one of those alternate world people. This was going to be taxing.

"This isn't your world," Beatrix stated. "The things you think you know and understand about the way the world works mean nothing here. This place has it's own set of rules and no one but Martin Landel knows them."

At the insistence that the creatures 'mere humans' could gather were nothing, the Bride's lips curled up in amusement. "You just keep thinking that. Whatever is dampening everyone's strength and special abilities, no one's been able to figure out. What you are now, is a pathetic shade of what you might have once been."

Not her world? What other world could there possibly be? The only one she could think of was whatever Hell that the yoma had spawned from, and this didn't seem like what she had imagined that place to be. Her expression fell to annoyance, and it only got worse when the woman dared to call her "pathetic."

"Oh, is that so?" She lifted her gaze to the woman's, staring at her as though she were conversing with some sort of insect. "And I suppose that goes for you too, does it? If someone like me is pathetic now, I can't imagine how low a simple human would fall when taken to a place like this."

Having spent many of her years in the Deadly Vipers with Elle around, Beatrix was used to such overt arrogance. It meant nothing to the ex-assassin and she simply raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"Delusions of grandeur get you nothing here but a lesson you'd be wise to avoid," the Bride replied, her voice never changing, though she no longer felt the need to mask the coldness in her eyes. "Does your arrogance blind you or are you simply worried you might be on the same level as those you obvious despise? Perhaps, even afraid you might be less than them?"

Ophelia glared across the table, her eyes equally cold now. "I assure you, despite what I was told upon waking, that I am far from delusional. Had I my strength and my claymore, you would find all four of your limbs sliced to ribbons in seconds. Even without those, I still have much in the way of skill and combat experience. More than enough to remain superior to any of your kind."

"You require your weapon and beyond-human strength to harm another?" The Bride snorted. "You obviously do not understand what you're dealing with and I don't bow down those who claim to be better than me."

There was definitely a familiarity about this woman, something she recognized deep inside. She wasn't sure what it was, but she was certain it would eventually come to light. "Continue to believe what you wish; someone will surely give you a proper education."

Ophelia had to suddenly laugh at that. Did the woman not know how to use her own ears, or were human ears really just that weak? "Didn't I just say that I still have the skill without those? I would accept a challenge to prove it right here, if you like," she said, her familiar wicked grin returning with ease. "Or, if you're afraid to do it now, then later, wherever you wish. It would be a world of fun to teach another presumptuous bitch the dangers of crossing me."

"It is with the things you no longer have access to that you threatened me with. That indicates that you have little confidence in your - shall we say - human abilities," the Bride said, a smirk in the corner of her mouth.

"I have no need to prove myself to you," she stated bluntly. "Beside, it would be an insult to the providence of challenge for em to issue one to an unworthy."

She wasn't baiting this woman. Well... maybe a little.

Despite the smooth confidence in the woman's voice, Ophelia was able to convince herself that her tablemate was just grasping at straws to avoid the confrontation and thus an inevitable defeat. She made a mental note to go chasing straight after this one as soon as she found just the right opportunity.

That's assuming you can find one in your current state, a nagging in the back of her mind teased. Ophelia twitched ever so slightly, forcing those doubts into the shadows for the time being.

"Heh, and you tell me that I'm the pathetic one with delusions. You're still welcome to challenge me should you ever work up the nerve," said Ophelia with a low chuckle. She shook her head, deciding to move onto other things for now. "Anyway, what sorts of supposedly dangerous monsters are there running around at night?"

A knowing smile touched the Bride's lips as she saw the other woman twitch. This one was easy to rile up.

"As amusing as it would be to see you sedated and drooling on yourself with a broken nose, perhaps at a time more conducive - should I find myself bored. I am in F33 should you feel the need to continue to beat your chest like an overgrown gorilla at me," the Bride said.

In response to the question about the creatures, the Bride took the journal she'd had with her from where it rest against her lower back and ripped a piece of paper detailing in very fine print the bestiary others had gathered and posted on the board days ago. She tossed the page down on the table, knowing this woman would find the information eventually... assuming she could read.

"That's not a comprehensive list, but it is fairly detailed."

[It's from the board. I'll eventually get you the link.]

"I don't know what a gorilla is, but I'll be sure to look for you should I ever become bored as well," said Ophelia, lacing her fingers and leaning her chin on them with a sickeningly sweet smile.

That smile quickly faltered somewhat, however, with the appearance of the piece of paper. There were a few pictures on it that told her there probably wasn't anything nearly as powerful as an awakened being running around here. However, most of the piece of paper was covered in words. And letters. Words and letters that she could barely make heads or tails of. Her human parents hadn't seen fit to teach her reading or writing as a child, mainly because it wasn't seen as necessary for girls to learn such skills. Training as a warrior put even less emphasis on the written word, preferring to focus on teaching the finer points of blade meeting flesh.

She stared at the paper for several long moments. She had never been ashamed of her illiteracy before, but now in the presence of this cocky woman, it seemed as though it would be a sign of weakness to admit not being able to decipher what was in front of her. She attempted to simulate reading by letting her eyes moving back and forth across the page, and whenever her eyes crossed one of the little sketches in the margins, she took in as much as she could from it before moving on. To the casual observer, the deception worked well enough, but looking closer, it was apparent that the movement of her eyes seemed somewhat unpracticed and unnatural.

Quickly enough, she put the paper down. "I get the gist of it. I'm sure I'll find out the details for myself soon enough," she said. She smirked and added, "I'd prefer to learn through doing, anyway."

Beatrix watched the woman carefully when she saw the slight change in the other's smile. She'd been right.

"You can't read," the Bride stated with a snort. "Learning through doing only gets you so far. You're incapable of using many resources available to you." She made a contemptuous sound in the back of her throat as she moved to take the paper back; there was no need to leave it in the hands of an illiterate.

"Do you even prepare yourself before going into battle aside from centering yourself? Or do you simply throw yourself into the fray, counting on your strength to carry you to victory?"

Ophelia glared briefly after the accurate accusation. She didn't say anything immediately, telling herself that at least she didn't feel as big a fool as she had with that monstrously skilled stranger in the woods.

She chose instead to change the focus to the discussion of battle, something she was far more comfortable with. "I didn't get to be the organization's Number 4 through brute strength alone. That only gets one so far along the ranks," she explained, hiding behind another smile. "It's true that I do prefer to jump into things. It tends to be far more interesting that way, and you get to make up the rules of the game as you go. But that's not to say that I have no head for strategy or tactics."

The paper was tucked back into the journal.

"At least you're not as stupid as you seem," the Bride replied. "Though strategy and tactics can be learned in the fly if one has the knack for improvisation. What I am referring to is studying reports and recountings of those you will be faced against, tactics and war theories recorded from the great generals and military personnel of the past, gone to long ago for an accurate oral rendition."

She shook her head a little. "Another with your exact same skills, exact same abilities, exact same strength yet the ability to read would be a far greater warrior than you."

"Well the organization doesn't seem to agree, and I dare say they have far more knowledge and experience in matters of large-scale military operations than you ever will," said Ophelia with a shrug. "Less time spent hunched over pieces of paper and more time spent honing those tactics, skills, abilities, and strength in the field turned out a far greater crop of warriors than any human army I've ever seen."

Considering all the teachings of the military geniuses Beatrix had read, the woman was speaking in arrogance and ignorance.

"You know, a single entity with the right skills, the right preparation - which is an equal balance of training the body and the mind - can easily decimate an entire force." Said the ex-assassin that was once one of the FBI and Interpol's most wanted.

"I'm sure if your organization exercised your people's individual minds as well as the body, you would have a much stronger army." Her eyes narrowed. "Ignorance breeds weakness."

"And who's to say that they offered us no training of the mind? Literacy is not necessarily the only key to high intelligence," Ophelia shot back easily. She had been on more than enough missions to see that the organization's training and tactics almost always worked, especially when she was on the job. "Many of the organization's warriors are phenomenal when it comes to tactics and battle planning. Our Number 6, Phantom Miria, is especially skilled at organizing and handling groups and larger forces. I'll freely admit that such things are not my strongest suits, but I know enough to combine with the other skills I possess. Enough to keep myself among the elite."

"Literacy opens up opportunities restricted to only those capable of understanding the written word," the Bride replied. "Literacy allows access to resources the unlearned cannot utilize."

This was ridiculous. Beatrix sighed and picked up her glass of water. "Are you trying to tell me that knowing how to read is a waste of time and will not benefit you? Why would you not want to take advantage of any and every possible resource available to you?"

She pulled the paper out again and held it up. "This details strengths, weaknesses, locations and frequency of these creatures. Would you not prefer to be aware of these details before you venture out at night so you are not caught off-guard? Believe me, there are few prisoners in this place with the patience to deal with your personality on a one-on-one basis to tell you things you could have read yourself had you the capacity to do so."

Ophelia really had no idea why the woman was being so insistent about reading. She raised an eyebrow in confusion and continued annoyance. "Sure I'd prefer to know what's on that paper right now. I want to know any information that'll help me get out of this place and get my power back. However, I don't know about this world or yours, but in 'my world,' as you put it, most information that's relevant to me isn't given out that way. It's mostly just leaders, religious figures, and the highest members of the organization that learn how to read. All of what most people in the land know is passed along orally. You know, through speaking. Conversation. Like what you and I are doing right now? Seems pretty effective right now, and it's been effective for the organization - hell, for everyone in the land - for ages."

Ophelia licked her lips, still glad that she was able to defend herself at least in the spoken word. She really needed to know that she could still put up some kind of competent defense after the defeat she had experienced not hours earlier. "So why should it be a surprise that I haven't seen the point in learning a skill that practically no one in my world sees value in?" she asked, propping her chin up on her hand and giving the woman her best "so there" glare.

"I never said it was a surprise," Beatrix continued. "My world was once like that where only the privileged where taught how to read. History and other such things were passed on through the telling of stories and such, just as your world does. Which works if you'd prefer to not be told the truth. Sure, whomever is telling you the story may believe they're relaying it properly, but the truth of the matter is that no two people remember the story the same. The more people that repeat it, the more steps you get away from the initial source, the more the message, the lesson, has changed."

She snorted. "My world demonstrates this to our children through a simple game of telephone so they understand how unreliable hearsay is."

"Controlling the population through filtered learning - that is you're only being taught what they feel like telling you - is an archaic method that upholds ignorance. And if you're one of their greatest warriors, you are nothing more than a meat puppet to them - someone to direct like like a prized fighting dog that only wishes to be rewarded with the day's food and not knowledge and opportunity."

She waved a hand dismissively. "But if that is the kind of life you find satisfactory, far be it for me to tell you otherwise. You are welcome to wallow in ignorance and simply do as your told."

Ophelia let out a low laugh as the woman finished speaking. It was a fascinating history lesson to be sure, and she understood the value of the points she was making well enough. But the woman was missing one key thing that Ophelia hadn't told her yet. "Mm, when I told you that it takes more than brute strength to rise through the ranks of the organization, but also intelligence? There is one other thing that certainly helps most of us single-digits, and that is having no actual loyalty to the organization whatsoever. Most of us who have risen this high know how to work the system in our favour and use it to our own ends."

She reached down and picked up one of the links of sausage on her plate with her fingers, savouring the sweet smell of cooked flesh. "For me, the only reason I've stayed with the organization is that it makes it easier for me to have my fill of slaying filthy, stinking awakened beings. If it somehow became disadvantageous for me to stay with them, I would simply desert. As it is, there are only minor annoyances. Not being allowed to play with humans, for example. That's a very boring rule."

She took a bite out of the sausage and swallowed. It tasted even better than it smelled. "I tend to ignore it whenever I've got time to kill."

"I see. You lack honor," came the Bride's condescending reply.

"You may find here that there are some humans that don;t take kindly to being hunted, as well as some humans with no qualms about killing you." Obviously, the woman wasn't going to take that seriously, but Beatrix didn't care.

"So, what are you, if you're not human? We have quite a collection of non-human being held prisoner here - gods, elves, dragons, even once robots - if you believe them" She appeared to turn her attention to her tray.

"Also, do you have a name or simply a designation?"

While the woman's comment about lack of honour didn't faze Ophelia at all, her warning about others not being hesitant to go after her did give her some reason to pause. She swore she could still feel the hands of the two women who had woken her wrapped around her wrists, inexplicably blocking her advance. That still sent chills through her body. She didn't, however, let her facade of confidence drop just yet. Best not to let her tablemate think that she had gained the upper hand.

"I'm sure that once I've become used to my current state that I will be able to manage quite well, if not better than many who have been human for all their dull, miserable lives," she answered casually, taking another bite of her sausage. It was strange not feeling full after two bites as she normally would. On the plus side, that meant she could continue to savour the taste.

"As for myself, I am Ophelia, also known as the Blood-soaked Warrior to some. I have another title as well, but only people lucky enough to fall victim to its namesake technique really deserve to know it," she continued. "And what I am is a carefully crafted hybrid - half-human, half-yoma. We possess all the physical enhancements and special powers of yoma alongside the higher intelligence functions of the human brain. Formally, our kind have no name, but humans often call us 'Claymores' after the blades we carry."

Her smirk grew. "And they call us that in fear, I might add. Despite the fact that the organization created us to protect humans from the ravenous yoma and awakened beings of the land, they quake in our presence, hide their children, and whisper to each other about 'silver-eyed witches.' They fear our perfection, imagining all the ways in which we could easily crush and dominate all of human civilization if we were so inclined."

Yoma... that sounded like a type of demon.

"There are many humans here that you could easily kill with but a pinky should you choose to prey upon children and non-combatants," the Bride replied, sounding bored. "There are humans here, though, that will surprise you."

She glanced up again. "Boast all you want, Ophelia, about who and what you are, but remember this isn't your world and none of us give a shit about what you say you've done in the past. You may be one of these Claymores, but you are also half-human. I find it amusing that you hate half of yourself."

She returned to her plate of food. "You can cal me Arlene."

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