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.

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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."

"Surprising though it may sound, I don't actually hate humans. I don't like them, but they're not worth the energy to hate. I would call them... sub-par, I suppose the word is," Ophelia corrected with a wave of her index finger. "Their brains are really the only things most of them have to speak of. The rest tends to be surprisingly frail and fun to break. Only the most extremely well-trained humans have even a chance of standing up against yoma or Claymores."

Again, she decided not to mention the fact that being brought back down to that frail level was still giving her some serious things to worry about.

When the woman stated her name, Ophelia asked, "And would you call yourself one of the humans that will supposedly surprise me, hmm?"

"Your open contempt makes it sound as if you hate them. If that isn't hate, it'll be interesting to see your reaction when you do cross something you hate," Beatrix stated.

When Ophelia asked her question, Beatrix almost said the answer that was on the tip of her tongue. That being: No, I'm one of the humans that will kill you should give me cause. She barely stopped herself from saying it, but the cold killer in her was visible in ehr eyes for the briefest moment.

"Perhaps," was the vocalized reply.

Ophelia outright giggled at Arlene's first statement. "That's just because I often show open contempt for anyone who isn't me," she said with a dismissive hand wave. Her face suddenly went darker, though, as though shadows had suddenly gathered just to make her expression more menacing. "Now if you want to see me hate, then just show me an awakened being, or maybe one particular one-horned bitch. Then you will see hate the likes of which you've never seen."

The dark expression passed quickly enough, reverting back to her standard smirk. She hadn't missed that look Arlene had given her. She had been right to think that the woman looked like a fighter. Maybe she wasn't as great as Ophelia, but she could tell that Arlene was probably at least competently trained in whatever human art she had chosen. "I look forward to seeing what you 'surprising people' can do, then, should I ever cross one of you doing battle with these night monsters, then. It could be an interesting show for a few minutes at least."

Oh yes, Ophelia was reminding her more and more of Elle, the more the bitch opened her mouth. Though, Beatrix had never heard Elle giggle - she wasn't sure that snake was capable of it. In all honesty, she did want to see Ophelia's hatred; she wanted to know if it was anything close to her own when it came to the Deadly Vipers.

"It usually is," the Bride replied in regard to the night being an interesting show. "Some of the creatures are pathetically easy and yet others have schooled even the greatest fighters here, including the non-human ones, because of our dampened abilities. Perhaps you'll encounter one of them and I'll get to watch an interesting show for a few minutes."

Given the collection of prisoners, which the Bride was starting to actually believe in being what they all say they are thanks to the sword, she was curious what Ophelia considered an awakened being.

"Tell me what an awakened being is to you."

At hearing that some of the monsters had bested even the strongest non-human fighters (whatever that meant in this place), Ophelia felt an odd tear in her emotions. On the one hand, it excited her to think that perhaps something stronger than an awakened was here for the challenging and potential slaying. On the other, though Ophelia hated having to admit it, the prospect of having to face one of these creatures without her full strength was more frightening than almost anything she could imagine. A look of genuine worry flashed across her face, only to be replaced swiftly by a small, but dangerous grin at the inquiry about awakened beings.

"The awakened are similar to yoma; they are monstrous and immensely powerful. The difference is that the awakened are stronger, and they are all rotten betrayers," Ophelia explained, her eyes getting wide as the memories of countless awakened being hunts flitted through her mind. "They were all once warriors, the awakened. They are born when warriors lose control and give in completely their yoma sides. They become many orders of magnitude stronger than normal yoma, and their minds become focused on two things only - human guts, and wanton destruction. At least yoma have the decency to stick to single villages and pick off their victims one by one. Awakened beings either rampage wherever they go, or devise elaborate, diabolical schemes for the purposes of delivering the most damage, consuming the most guts, and attaining the most power possible for themselves. Their arrogance is absolutely intolerable! Who are they to presume to own my world and tear it to pieces? Such filthy beasts have no right."

A low growl rumbled in the back of Ophelia's throat as her eyes widened even further. "And there is one in particular, the one-horned monster as most call her. She is the worst one imaginable. The strongest the land has ever heard of, and the one with the most destructive spree taken after birth." She neglected to mention the fact that a certain dear older brother of hers had been victim to this monster, though the thought of him did incense her further. "Since the day I joined the organization, I have vowed that I will be the one to slay the one-horned monster. She deserves worse than hell, and I will deliver it to her."

Ophelia's reply did two things: it didn't actually answer Beatrix's question and it made it quite clear what it was about Ophelia that the Bride had been finding so familiar.

Vengeance.

The passion and hatred Ophelia was displaying for this one-horned monster was like Beatrix's own for Bill and the rest of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. Such hatred, and the things that brought that emotion about, bred insanity in the one they possess. She could see it in Ophelia. It was almost like looking into a mirror; the only real difference is that the Bride was in control of her insanity and Ophelia was not.

Though Beatrix did not like the arrogant bitch across the table from her, she did respect the desire for vengeance.

"Something to keep in mind, Ophelia - vengeance is a dish best served cold," the Bride replied. "Is a yoma what your world calls a demon?"

"No, but they might as well be," Ophelia seethed as she felt herself coming down from the high of her emotions. "They look and act as demons are said to. Their origin is unknown, but it's probably somehow very much tied to the physical world and not to some nebulous Hell."

She sighed softly, the last of her excited rage slowly fading back into her smiling, cocky baseline. "Now, it only seems fair that since I've explained so much about myself and my world, you should tell me a few things about you and yours," she said, finishing the last of her sausage and then picking up a piece of the warm bread. "Tell me of this strangely literate world you come from, and your place within it."

"Demons come from many different locations depending on one's culture," Beatrix replied.

She felt no need to be 'fair' and tell Ophelia anything about the world she came from nor her place in it. Yet, considering how very similar this location was to her own world - was she really starting to think of it as not her own? (no, it had to be the weird magical shit came to her world not that she been taken somewhere that had it) - that imparting some of that knowledge to the bitch would give the Bride a known advantage.

"It's almost identical to this world. The technology is the same, the names of the places are the same. The only difference is that non-humans and people with magic do not exist in the world I am from," Beatrix said in a bored voice. "As for my place in it... I've been known by several names in the past, one of which was well known amongst certain unsavory circles of society and I am probably still talked about by many."

She peered over her glass at Ophelia. "I am retired now. The things I needed to finish, the situation that needed remedied, have and has been completed. I was set to live the rest of my life out raising my daughter. Then I ended up here." The coldness slipped back into her eyes. "This place has forced me to once again become who I used to be. They have made a grave mistake in doing so."

Well that first part wasn't particularly helpful, thought Ophelia; she didn't know the technology or the place names of this world yet. But, of course, this didn't really surprise her. In truth, she wasn't so much truly interested in Arlene's world in particular as she was in just hearing about the concept of other worlds in general. It was just such a strange concept to her that she couldn't help be intrigued.

The second part about Arlene herself, however, was surprisingly interesting. She couldn't imagine a mere human rising to quite the same heights as a warrior of her own calibre, but she could certainly familiar with having names and reputations among those in the know. She couldn't say that she relished the idea of retiring from her warrior's life any time soon, but in a way, it seemed like a desirable concept. There was no such thing as retirement for Ophelia's kind. All of the organization's warriors either met their end in battle or awakened; there was no such thing a quiet death from old age for them.

"And you don't feel any excitement whatsoever for the opportunity to be active in that way again? Not one bit?" she asked, seemingly innocent enough (though her grin was just one step too sweet to really be taken as such).

Day 37: Breakfast

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