damned_institute | Day 37: Intercom, Evening

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Day 37: Intercom, Evening

"And I believe it's time to start wrapping up the day," was what the Head Doctor said after the intercom's initial jingle. "Now that everyone's all cleaned up, I think it's time for some... that's right, dinner!

"Tonight, we're serving some scrumptuous rotisserie herb chicken, seasoned with rosemary, lemon juice, and other delicious seasonings. On the side, we have cooked asparagus with bits of grilled onion, as well as small roasted potatoes with garlic and butter; for dessert, we'll be serving vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup on top. Our normal assorted drinks and specialized diet alternatives are available.

"Some of you might find that you have new roommates since your old ones were fortunate enough to recover and leave us. Hopefully, you'll be able to see them again the next time we have visitors if you wish, but in the meantime please treat your new bunkmates kindly.

"I believe that's all for now. I hope you had a wonderful day and that you have a delicious dinner! ...Well, you'll definitely be having a delicious dinner, but there's nothing surprising about that, is there? Hahaha..."

With a seemingly good-natured chuckle, the Head Doctor turned off his mic.

[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post. Find your character's room assignments here.

All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. Thank you! ]

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Methos wasn't really all that surprised to find the room he was shepherded into occupied. Even had the announcement over the intercom not explicitly mentioned roommates, there had been furnishings for two in the room in which he'd awakened. Not the same one, he thought, which seemed a little peculiar, though it was neither the only detail that stood out, nor the most glaring. He wondered briefly just how large the Institute was; he was beginning to see now why the inmates had taken to drafting up maps. Once the lights went out, navigation would become a nightmare.

He bid the nurse a polite good evening, waiting for the door to click shut in her wake before turning a speculative gaze on his roommate. Not, thank any deity that might be listening, one of the frighteningly large number of teenagers that seemed to populate the place. Adults, he at least knew how to deal with.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he began mildly. No need to start off on the wrong foot, if they were going to be dealing with one another for a while.

A roommate, huh? Made sense, with the extra bed. He seemed like a pretty unassuming guy, the type who wouldn't keep you up yammering at night--not that Indy planned to spend a lot of the night in his room, as long as he could get through the lock on that door.

"Not at all," he replied, standing to greet the other man. Professorial etiquette was kicking in. "I'm Indiana Jones." He wasn't in the mood to mess around with pseudonyms at the moment, and besides, he was hoping for a look of recognition. Sure, his wasn't exactly a household name, but some of his recent finds had definitely made the papers.

"Are you new to the party too?" he added with a grin that didn't quite mask his seriousness. However polite he might be, the guy was either a liability or an asset, and Indy had better figure out which as soon as possible.

"Adam Pierson," Methos responded automatically, grateful once again that for whatever reason, the staff had seen fit to let him keep his current alias rather than trying to saddle him with a new one. His pleasantly neutral expression betrayed no recognition, and though his gaze was curiously watchful, there was no marked shift in degree.

"I am, yes," he added a little ruefully. "I'd hoped for a suite with a view, but I suppose they had nothing of the sort available." His slight grimace and brief look around was a mask for evaluation of their surroundings. It looked, excepting the presence of another person, little different from the room he'd woken in, containing little that could be easily used in defense, and no exit save for the locked door into the hall. Aggravating, but not entirely surprising.

"Not exactly a luxury hotel, is it?" Indy concurred sympathetically, although Landel's was princely compared to some of the places he'd stayed. Any night he didn't spend sleeping on the ground and waking up covered in tarantulas at least had something going for it.

Actually, that was part of what was bothering him. Indy's brain had begun to generate conspiracy theories around the time he'd started in on the potatoes. Was putting him here some sort of (Nazi?) plot? Something suspicious had to be going on. Even if, say, Marcus had said, "Indy, you've gone off your rocker and perhaps you ought to seek help," (and if Indy was a little unbalanced, Marcus must be absolutely nuts)...why wouldn't he remember what had happened?

Well, no recognition--too bad; it would've done his ego good to hear "Dr. Jones? The famous archaeologist? I've heard so much about you!" etc. At least it was better than "Indiana? Sounds like a dog's name," which was the other response that usually got him.

Either way, maybe Pierson had learned something useful during the day. "You don't remember checking in, do you?" Indy asked. "Or have any idea how I could get a telephone call or a cable out? I need to get in touch with one of my colleagues." And make sure Dad hadn't set this up as some kind of sick joke.

"That depends on where the hotel is," Methos replied, a brief flicker of humor twitching the corners of his mouth upward into a small smile. "I've seen worse places, some of them much more pricy. I'm assuming. They've not actually mentioned anything about a bill." He shrugged, the brief gesture marking the topic off as useless; if funds were the only thing to worry about, they would be far luckier than they seemed to be now.

Come to think of it, he found himself wondering where the Institute did get its funding. Most private hospitals charged their patients through the nose; if this one didn't, it would have to have a private backer somewhere. Methos' eyes narrowed a touch in thought, and he shot a glance toward the door. Wouldn't that be useful to determine?

"No," he answered, and after a few seconds' pause volunteered further, "Nor, from what I've gathered, do most of the other patients. It seems the general pattern is to wake here without any recollection of arriving, or of the exact circumstances that might have led to being committed. As for a telephone, I doubt they're eager to volunteer one, but the reception area or a nurse's station may have something. I can't imagine a facility this size functioning if completely cut off from the outside world."

Damn. Indy couldn't help but feel a little betrayed in spite of himself--try to be nice and all you got was one-upped. Better rein it in, Jones; getting into a pissing contest over who'd slept in the worst shitholes wasn't going to get him anywhere. He'd be willing to bet it wouldn't be that guy, though.

Pierson's next statement was a lot more serious, though. So it was some kind of crazy conspiracy. What Indy couldn't figure out was what they were after. It wouldn't be the first time (in the last three months, even) that someone had kidnapped him to convince him to find some precious artifact, or even to stop him from finding one. But what was the common denominator between him and that kid earlier this afternoon, or even Pierson?

Indy pushed his empty plate aside and stood up. A sweep of the room turned up a few mundane objects (pens, a journal, a small metal ring), some clothing (more uniforms and--Indy almost heaved a sigh of relief--a set of his own "adventuring" clothes, fedora and all), and two unusual devices which on further inspection turned out to be some sort of radio and flashlight. Not any kind Indy had ever seen before, that's for sure. How powerful was this place?

Satisfied that he'd found everything useful, he turned back to Pierson. "What do you think they want with all of us?" he asked.

Methos shook his head, not quite keeping a flash of frustration from darkening his expression. "I'm not certain. If there's a common link between us, it's not an immediately obvious one," he replied. "Age, gender, profession...there are even people here from a number of nationalities. It's possible that whatever they're up to, they want as broad a sample for study as possible."

He took a seat at the desk on the side of the room opposite the one claimed by his roommate, leaning back at a casually comfortable angle and pulling open one drawer to riffle through it. "It's possible their files might reveal something. Though anything of note is likely to be difficult to get at."

"Maybe not too difficult," Indy said, donning his hat. It looked a little silly on top of the Institute uniform, but he instantly felt a bit more in control of the situation nonetheless. That was more like it. "I have some experience with this kind of thing." He doubted Landel's had any tapestries to view, but he was pretty confident he could come up with something, at least.

"On that note," he added, "what's your line? Anything that might come in handy around here?"

"Breaking into encrypted files?" Methos asked, surprise warring with sheer amusement at the somewhat ridiculous combination of hat and smiley-faced uniform in both his voice and expression. "All the better. I can do it, if I've got some uninterrupted time, but it isn't exactly my area of focus."

He pulled the journal from his desk, flipping through the empty pages with a frown before looking up again, grinning a little ruefully. "Translation and research. I'm good at finding information. And people, for that matter, though I doubt going directly after the people in charge of this would be the wisest course."

Encrypted files? Indy wasn't sure who these guys were, but writing patient files in code seemed a little overkill, even for them. "Yeah, I'd be willing to bet the breaking in'll be the problem," he said. "I don't know what kind of security this place has, but with technology like this, any guards they've got running around might be the least of our worries."

That last part was interesting, although it wouldn't have been much of a stretch to peg Pierson as a researcher of some kind. "Are you connected with a college?" he asked with professional interest, but before he got an answer came the two intercom announcements, and then something that interested Indy even more--a click from the door as though it had unlocked. He went over and jiggled the handle--sure enough. Whoever this Landel was, he wanted them out there. And Indy wasn't the type to turn down an invitation like that.

He moved out of his roommate's line of vision and changed quickly--no point in hanging around here. No weapons but his fists, but at least he could add the map and a flashlight to his pockets. The message board note had said to take the tiny radio, too, which he could manage with his free hand.

That left only deciding what to do about Pierson. Indy still hadn't seen any evidence that the guy could fight, but an extra pair of capable hands to help him search through files wouldn't hurt. Maybe he could even create a distraction while Indy did some sucker-punching.

Well, he wasn't the guy's mother; let him decide. Indy headed for the door. "Coming?" he asked.

The announcements left Methos gazing in thoughtful discontent at the intercom, scowling faintly as he puzzled over the marked difference between the two. So things did change come nightfall, then, in some degree. He still wasn't sold on the idea of monsters roaming the halls, but he knew enough to be cautious regardless, even more so than was his usual wont. He felt the lack of any sort of proper weapon keenly, and the faint scowl deepened. Nothing to do for that but find something, he told himself, and rose to gather what scant supplies he thought might be useful. Journal, two pens, and a flashlight to investigate or break out of an institution. Somewhere, he was certain, Amanda was laughing at him.

"Of course," he replied, stepping toward the door. In the spirit of information sharing, or more importantly of mutual success, he added, "I saw very little by way of security outside of personnel in the patient-access areas. It's not unlikely that they've got cameras, but anything more advanced would be counterproductive in high-traffic areas. If they have thrown in for anything state-of-the-art, it's probably safe to assume we won't find it until we get to the staff-only sections."

In Indy's view, the technology they'd already seen was suspiciously more than state-of-the-art, but he wasn't interested in belaboring the point. "Let's get moving, then," he said, and set off for the unknown.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/522327.html?thread=42555735#t42555735)]

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Day 37: Intercom, Evening

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