damned_institute | Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

The Head Doctor seemed a little rushed as he spoke on the intercom, not taking as much pleasure as he usually did in describing the delicious food that would soon be served.

"Hello, everyone! Tonight is turkey night, which means turkey breast in a great turkey gravy with some nice turkey sides: peas, herb potatoes, a small garden salad, and for dessert, a slice of pumpkin pie. We of course have vegetarian substitutes available, as well as our usual assortment of drinks.

"...I believe that's it! I'll talk to you soon!"

The intercom clicked off abruptly.

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A monk? Takasugi was familiar enough with them to know that they didn't practice violence and weren't particularly in the habit of arming themselves, but fear was a good catalyst for change. The desire for self-preservation could bring a man to forsake everything, including his belief system. A man like himself had nothing more left to fear after the things he'd seen -countless men slaughtered by fowl creatures from distant planets.

Self preservation, he had plenty, but not as a result of fear. For him, it was simply a matter of revenge and stifling the wild cries that echoed from within. It was passion that guided his fingers and nothing as singular and irrelevant to him as fear.

When the laughter died, a smile remained, tugging at the corner of his mouth. "There's very little I haven't already seen. I assume you've already found a way to survive through the night."

"Obviously I have." At least that was an easy-to-catch prod for information, even if that smile remained unreadable. Great, he was stuck with someone who thought they'd seen just about everything. Sanzo just returned the smile with a cool look. "But since you've seen just about everything, I'm sure the nightshift won't be any surprise then."

The monk was a firm believer of survival of the fittest. Goku and Gojyo were exceptions of that rule due to terminal stupidity combined with being damned hard to kill, but as a whole, it was kill or be killed. If you didn't adapt fast, you didn't deserve to keep on living.

"Where are you from, exactly?

"Edo," he murmured in response. Takasugi didn't bother to elaborate he'd already arrived during this infamous 'night shift.' He'd recalled the chaos with a strange fondness, taking comfort in the disorderly, where he had freedom to roam about as he pleased, instead of remaining tethered to one place with eyes constantly on his person. Men like him thrived in the night, under the guise of shadows that shielded away his actions until it was too light. The morning always bore a sea of corpses or the remains of a wild fire that had hungrily engulfed everything in its path.

It was the day that bothered him most, surrounded by indiscriminate walls and always under constant surveillance. He couldn't explore as he wanted to and couldn't find out the answers he sought.

The anticipation of the oncoming night was already seizing him even if his body radiated nothing but endless patience. His mind was already visualizing the areas he had covered yesterday, trying to remember the path he had taken, one that had kept him away from any danger, which he'd have to avoid until he could find a suitable weapon.

"And yourself?" he asked in return, slowly growing more and more curious about the monk. armed

A foreigner. Certainly not from Shangri-la. The name didn't sound Chinese. Sanzo took in another drag. That didn't mean much right now; almost everyone here was from beyond China's borders. The only people he knew for certain from his world to begin with were a select few.

Sanzo put the cigarette out on the desk surface, stubbing it out, before leaning back against the wall.

"China." Not much to go on either. Sanzo hadn't missed how Takasugi had managed to hedge around saying what he was, even if Sanzo hadn't been completely open as to his status.

China would have been amongst his first guesses of the man's origins. There weren't many monks that lingered around Edo these days, save for the occasional terrorist in disguise if he remembered one of his more recent impromptu meetings with Katsura. The possibility of Sanzo lying about himself was also still quite high, but Takasugi would have to humor him until he found out the truth.

The smoke from Sanzo's cigarette continued to tantalize him, the scent both alluring and relaxing. His hands still would automatically seek out the pipe he had kept perpetually cradled in his fingers, the habit far too ingrained in his muscle memory for him to adapt to the absence so soon.

Moving away from the door and towards the bed, he kept an easy smile on his face, remaining deceptively congenial. "A monk with a quite a few vices," he pointed out, his eye flicking towards the cigarette. "It makes me wonder what other indulgences you've allowed yourself and why. You see ...only a man whose experienced great loss would abandon guilt so readily and embrace a hunger for all superficial things that make him feel alive."

Sanzo's eyes narrowed, even as Takasugi's went to the cigarette butt still smoldering on the desk.

It wasn't the first time someone had tried to point out the fact that he didn't follow the expected rules for a priest. It was the first time, however, someone had actually voiced out loud why they thought that was. No one had ever had the spine to do it before either.

It was far too close to the mark.

"That's none of your business," Sanzo replied smoothly. He didn't need to explain himself to anyone, much less another prisoner here. He didn't owe him anything. "Speaking from experience?"

There was something about Takasugi, something that reminded him of Hakkai. Maybe it was the way he seemed to keep himself so in check, almost painstaking in how careful that mask was. Sanzo was getting more and more convinced that it was a cover. Not exactly the same as Hakkai, but he'd traveled with the man long enough to not ever trust a seemingly harmless manner on the outside.

He'd hit quite close to the mark, hadn't he? Takasugi's smile widened, taking on a more sinister edge as he sat on his bed and cradled his chin between two fingers, giving Sanzo another thoughtful once-over.

There was something interesting lurking there, something bound tightly that begged to be released -whether it was anger, grief, or something else entirely couldn't be determined-, but Takasugi was the kind of person who would pour salt on open wounds just to see how their owner would react. Temperance had never been much of his strong suit, anyway.

"Of course, I am," he replied as he reached over to retrieve the cigarette butt. He toyed with it briefly before continuing,"Is it so unusual to project one's own feelings onto others? Hunger is all I feel, and the moment I see something worth sinking my fangs into, I can think of nothing else but indulgence."

Sanzo watched as he picked up the cigarette butt, toying with it. Ever since he'd come in, Takasugi's attention had been partially on it, as if drawn. It was small, but it was enough to read that much into the patient. He was all too familiar with what it was like to be away from cigarettes, the nicotine. Despite Takasugi's near flawless control, there was that craving there.

Was it unusual to project feelings onto others? Fuck yes. Sanzo was a firm believer of not involving himself in other people's shit. It was a pain in the ass, and he wasn't interested. The monk scowled back at him. This wasn't looking good. It was like he was dealing with a combination of Hakkai and Homura. As if it wasn't bad enough he had to keep an eye out for the war god. Takasugi represented something that could be potentially even more dangerous.

"I'm not interested in how you get your kicks," Sanzo said flatly. " I'm not going to play your mind games."

Takasugi laughed again, a high-pitched, throaty chuckle that made his shoulders shake. He couldn't help it. The other man showed the flaws in his temper so readily, and they'd only been talking to each other for a few minutes.

"Games are for children," he murmured when the laughter died, "I just want to understand the things that would reduce a man to your state."

Whether or not Sanzo had been this way since his arrival was difficult to gauge, but he'd seen the other inhabitants of the place. They'd been affected in one way or another, whether deeply consumed by fear or completely absent of it. If his judgment was correct, he'd suspect there was still a measure of some fear left inside his roommate, though what of would be interesting to figure out.

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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