damned_institute | Day 37: Sun Room

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Day 37: Sun Room

Joe had read some of the larger notes stuck up on the bulletin board when the announcement came on the intercom. All things considered, this Landel guy didn't even seem so bad. Even if these people were held here against their will, he was certainly nice about it.

Apparently, the new patients - including Joe - were to hang around in the Sun Room or go to Arts and Crafts with the kids. Well, there was plenty of information on the board, including maps and descriptions of monsters, for Joe to prepare for the nighttime, when he could seriously get going on fighting his way out. He could look for where the boss would probably be waiting, or where his V-watch might be, and figure out how to fight the monsters. In fact, he had plenty of time to work all that out... but this the first time he'd had to really relax since he got his powers. So it couldn't possibly hurt to enjoy the calm period, could it?

The red-head stepped back from the board, and hopped back onto a comfy-looking couch to digest in the sunlight. He reached up to pull his cap down, and sighed when he realized it wasn't there. "Oh well, nothing's perfect. I still wouldn't call this hell."

[free!]

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Renamon opened her eyes slowly to regard the person next to her. "I'm fine." A pause. "I've been dropped in a lake before." Some part of her wondered if that was her normal social awkwardness or some sad attempt at a joke. The thought was shrugged off as quickly as it entered her mind.

Her name being said made her eyes shoot over to where Jiraiya sat with Kakashi; her sensitive ears picking up every detail of their conversation now that she was focusing on it. Amused, she added to the man, "Don't mind me. It appears that I have problems with the showers." Granted, that fact was true, but it wasn't something she was about to share in detail.

Renamon looked up at the man, wet hair clumping around her face. "Are you new here?"

"Unfortunate," Methos replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It wasn't clear whether he was referring to the difficulty with the showers, or the lake, and he didn't elaborate. "I'm surprised they didn't at least leave you a towel to dry off. Unless those are supposed to be dangerous, too." They could be, he was sure, but that would be a remarkable level of paranoia to assume it. It seemed more likely the staff just couldn't be bothered.

He dipped his head in a quick nod, though he gave her a curious look in the process. "Very new, yes. Is it that obvious?"

"Sometimes," she added back, before tipping her head. "Not obvious, no, but I haven't seen you before. I am Renamon. Is there anything you need to know? I'd be glad to help out."

Her survival of the showers had put her in a friendly mood--something altogether not charactistic. Her normally bland tone was warm, and while her face was still blank, per usual, it was more open and curious than closed. And, of course, Renamon was perfectly willing to enlighten one a bit on the Institute; she'd already done so many times.

And so physically she was focused on her new conversation partner while she listened, quite amused, to Jiraiya and Kakashi's conversation. So her friend wrote books of a dubious nature? Interesting. The compliments was ignored. Many would seek to gain favor like that when she was a Digimon, so they were brushed off unless they could be proven true. Either way, between the last shift and this one, Renamon had a lot to bring up to Jiraiya next time they met.

"I'm Adam," Methos replied. He allowed the smile to form fully, a friendly, slightly abstracted sort of expression that served as a part of his harmless scholar's guise. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And I have to admit, I am a little curious about this...hospital?" Only a faint upward lilt to the last word turned the identifier into a question. His gaze drifted to rest for a few seconds on one of the nurses ferrying patients in or out, the glance just a little pensive. "How often do people get admitted here?" The announcement, at least, had made it sound as though it wasn't an uncommon occurrence at all.

She nodded politely back at him. "Every few days it seems. It's a very popular asylum," she added dryly.

For the second time today Renamon found herself reciting the basics of this place. "This is Landel's Institute, where they tell you that your name and past is a fabrication, and you're here to get well from your delusions. A tale that would be more believable if there weren't monsters and creatures that explore the halls at night while some patients are experimented on or brain-washed. And, of course," she continued, "if you have any 'special' skills or abilities before coming here, they are either gone or dulled."

Again, Renamon's tendency to say everything at once took over, but she didn't really care. The man show know, and even if he didn't believe her now, he certainly would later on.

If her ears were still able to twitch, they certainly would now. The wrong idea? Hmm. She wondered exactly what Kakashi was refering to now. Though at least Jiraiya had finally realized she could hear them. Even if it took some of the fun out of it.

Methos nodded vaguely in acknowledgment of the explanation, looking rather thoughtful instead of particularly surprised. It matched what he'd been told at breakfast relatively well, and though the confirmation was not enough to convince him, it did lend the tale some weight. Even if it was proved to be nothing more than a widespread delusion, the specifics were interesting enough to bear some consideration.

Was it deliberate on the part of the asylum's overseers, he wondered. Who better to experiment on than those who were already out of touch with reality, or were perceived to be so? It wasn't as though anyone would believe the inmates of a madhouse if they appeared telling so absurd a tale.

If there was anything to it. He would see come nightfall, he supposed.

"They seem to be kind enough to allow me to keep my name," he replied mildly. "I haven't asked after any other specifics, though I can't imagine there being a reason to try to fabricate new ones." He frowned slightly, as though uncertain, and added after a few seconds pause, "What do you mean by special skills?"

Renamon nodded again. "There's a few patients that have retained their names as well. I'm not quite what the relevance is there however." She looked at the man briefly before continuing; he looked completely human, but there was something else, something more she could feel about the man. She would speak plainly then, and not try to sweeten what she said.

"Special skills. Powers or abilities that set you apart from other people. These range in a variety of ways, from heightened senses and physical skills to elemental control. Chi or energy manipulation, the ability to control things around you, telekinesis, healing. Etc. These are explained by the different worlds that we all hail from; some of us claim their abilities are normal where they're from, others insist that they're gods."

She looked plainly at Adam. "If you're from a world that has none, you'll soon see what I'm talking about." Though she had a feeling he might follow what she said.

While Methos could understand well enough the types of things to which she referred, he allowed nothing more than the most basic sort of comprehension to show. Centuries of experience had taught him that secrecy was a matter of survival, and that was not something to be undone in a day's conversation. So he nodded, still looking thoughtful, though some of the puzzlement had cleared. "Ah. If such things ever did exist, I'm afraid they've long since been lost to the world I'm accustomed to. There are stories, of course, older accounts of history are full of them, but... To be perfectly honest, anyone making those claims in all seriousness would be very likely to, well, end up in a place like this."

The man did well to portray himself as a normal human, and if his energy wasn't a bit off, Renamon would have believed it. As it was, she let it continue this way--she'd encountered ones before that found it necessary to hide what they were, and who was she to judge as one who didn't make it known she was a Digimon?

She brought her arms up, crossing them against her chest--which reminded her uncomfortably of how wet she still was. Her brows furrowed for a second, then smoothed away. "That's what some have said as well. But this place is far from a normal situation. There's nothing that will show you more than spending time in this place, and experiencing what it has to offer." She tilted her head slightly. "Either way, however, be it you believe me or not, tread on the safer safe. If you're not a fighter by nature, find someone who is to accompany you at night. Take note of your room number. If you know, or care about, someone here, watch them--people have a tendency to disappear here. And if you do decide to believe all this, I'd recommend you search for knowledge of this place over a way out."

She shook her head, her voice the same monotone. "There isn't one." Renamon looked back at him. "Check the Bulletin Board for needed information, and if you ever need anything feel free to contact me on it. Other than that, I suppose I'll simply wish you well. If this place was what it claimed, it would be a relief."

"Would it?" For a moment, Methos' mask slipped, just a little, enough to show something weary and ever so slightly bitter behind those mild eyes. He recovered swiftly enough that it could well seem nothing more than some trick of perception. "I've seen inside places similar to this. With some, the greatest difference between them and what you describe is that the monsters were entirely human."

He lowered his head, brow furrowing as he mulled over her words. "No way out. Is the perimeter that well guarded, then?" While slipping out of tight situations had always been a talent of his, it would be better to have some idea in advance of what he was up against, how much he'd have to plan, and how many people he would have to somehow rope into assisting.

To that end, he smiled slightly and continued, "Thank you. That's very kind. I don't know what assistance I can offer in return, but if you ever need anything translated..."

Hm. If it was anyone other than Renamon, his slip might have been missed, but she was a being that held to detail, especially details that told you about a person. It changed nothing, and she continued as if it never happened. "Ah, but it is the same here. You have Landel himself, who's the figurehead mastermind cackling over the intercoms at night, and the nurses themselves turn into monsters when dusk falls."

She allowed a small smile. "No, not at all. The walls are small and easy to climb; there's even a town close by. By regardless of how far you get in the duration of the night, once daylight comes, you'll wake in your bed."

Renamon politely nodded again. "I don't need anything in return; I'm just willing to assist when needed as long as I'm not busy... Information, items, assistence; I aquire things frequently. However, you will find that you won't get far using that as a bartering tool." Renamon hadn't put much thought in it herself; being a Digimon allowed her universal understanding of most languages, but nevertheless. "Supposedly all languages sound the same to everyone. There's a study currently going on, and it seems like it's been done before. There's no explanation of why, but it's accepted almost as fact."

Renamon thought a moment, then added, "Like I said before, if you aren't a fighter, there's three clubs you could join that sends you on missions and the like, in groups to protect. But if you are someone who can take care of themselves, you'd perhaps do better without. They seem to tend to focus on escaping. They don't seem to understand that this is simply a game to Landel."

That was peculiar. Though he wasn't certain to what degree he believed her information yet, Methos couldn't help but be intrigued by that puzzle. "Is there a specific sort of transition?" he asked. "Capture, or something that might be explained by a slow-acting toxin? Or do you simply awaken here in the morning without explanation?"

He allowed himself a rueful smile and a small chuckle. "It's likely the most marketable of my skills, I'm afraid. I'm a scholar. I'm good with research, good with puzzles, and good with languages." And with a number of other things, none of which Adam Pierson would know. People would notice if a 28-year-old historian showed a proficiency for swordsmanship, or medicine, or war. It was almost unfortunate, he thought, and some small corner of his mind turned toward devising a way to explain those skills if the uncanny descriptions turned out true enough to warrant their use. After a brief hesitation he added, almost as an afterthought, "I'm not a bad shot, but I doubt that will come in handy here."

He glanced toward the board, making a mental note to take a look at that study. Even if it was an odd delusion, it would be interesting.

He considered for a few seconds before adding, "I suppose no one's been kind enough to reveal the rules to this game? That discovering them, or trying to do so, is a part of it?"

"The latter," Renamon replied. "You awake with no explanation. It's very disconcerting at first. But it shows Landel's absolute control over our goings on. So escape should not be a focus.

"If you're good with puzzles or research, you may find yourself figuring out things here, or at least, giving a new perspective to what's already known. The self-proclaimed geniuses here have already put a few things together, things that might not have been noticed if they weren't pointed out. Like the languages, and the fact that time flows differently at night." She paused. "And you might find that coming in handy. People have a tendency to accrue weapons here--there's bows, and I've heard rumors of at least one gun, though I haven't seen it. There's mostly swords, and anything else people can put together."

Renamon made a small movement that might have been a shake of her head. "No. Which is one of the most frustrating points. If we knew how to play this game at least.... But we're stuck wandering around at night useless, attempting to learn things that may or may not matter in the end. There was one, however," Renamon added. "A man called Jack, or Alec Doyle, who died before I came here. He attempted to help through the radios in our rooms, gave hints, clues, and items... even answered a few questions when he finally made an appearance. But that man is gone. Someone's been trying to take his place, but she's a low-quality replica, and it's been hinted that she's not in as much control of her actions as it seems."

"Swords?" Methos repeated, giving her a slightly bemused look. It was this time a cover for definite discomfort; if there were others here who were skilled with the weapon, it was all the more important he recover his own as swiftly as possible. "Now that's unexpected. It's been some time since that form of combat was well-favored. At least in my experience."

He considered her words, eyes narrowing as he turned the situation over in his mind, considering the angles. It was difficult to determine anything quite yet, as he was uncertain how much was true and how much was paranoia, but that something was amiss was certainly solid fact no matter how things played out. "Still, that those rules are being kept secret tells us something on its own. Nothing good, but any information is valuable."

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Day 37: Sun Room

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