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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For once, Wally actually seemed deep in thought when he entered the room, directing only a distracted smile and 'hey' to Tony before sitting himself at his desk and starting on his dinner. Eating more out of autopilot and necessity rather than anything else and staring at the wall while he thought, Wally almost looked like he was copying Tony's normal behaviour during dinner, but he was too distracted to note that particular detail.

There were other people with superspeed here. Two actually, and while he'd only talked with Bart, that was still one person more than he'd ever thought he'd run into. It was weird, like he was both excited to think that there would be others with powers like his, but also a little nervous. Bart had been really kinda... weirded out by Wally. Like he kept expecting something bad from him. What if this other person was the same?

Or if they didn't actually have powers at all and it was a trap. He'd been too shocked and curious and desperate to meet them and a hundred other things to think that at the time but... Well, it was pretty coincidental that two people showed up in the one day like that, even if one had checked out okay. And he'd given the other one his room number. Yeah, he'd better hope it wasn't a trap, 'cause if it was he'd walked right into it like an idiot.

It was only when the fork scraped across a cleaned plate (so actually, not that long at all) that Wally remembered where he was and pushed his chair out more to face Tony.

"So, how was your fun-filled, action-packed day?"

"Okay, good. You haven't been lobotomized. I was starting to wonder." Tony leaned back in his chair and peered at Wally. As usual, his expression was not unlike someone trying to figure out a puzzle, but for once the scrutiny was modulated by something bearing an uncanny resemblance to concern.

After several seconds passed, he shrugged and offered a wry grin. "Fascinating. I think tomorrow I'm going to mix things up a little and watch paint dry." He hesitated, then admitted, "Actually, today was enlightening. In a manner of speaking. The people here seem to be fond of surprises."

"Just got a lot on my mind," Wally answered. Then he smirked and added, "Besides, aren't you supposed to say something about how if I was lobotomised, you wouldn't be able to tell anyway?"

Sure if the joke had been made, he'd have protested over it, but it was better than making Tony worry or anything. Not that it was exactly easy to tell if he was worried over something, but Wally thought he was maybe getting better at reading the other man. Maybe. It was a lot like trying to figure out what Bats was thinking though, so sometimes it was just confusing.

"I dunno if you're really ready to move onto paint-watching," he joked. "I mean, it's normally something reserved for those of us who can handle the fast pace of all the action." The faint smile didn't get much larger though, before vanishing again at what Tony said about surprises.

"Yeah, tell me about it. So, what did they get you with?"

"Of course I'd be able to tell," Tony replied, grave but for a distinct glint of humor in his eyes. "Lobotomy patients don't talk nearly as much. Mostly they just drool and shamble." Or so he assumed. He hadn't actually ever encountered one to make the observation in person.

He arched an eyebrow in mock skepticism, leaning further back in his chair, 'til the front two legs tipped up a half-inch off of the ground. "I don't know. It can't be that much more exciting than watching the wallpaper peel, and since that's what they've got us beginners doing these days..."

Tony hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing important. It just gave me something to think about." Because he hadn't spent nearly enough time thinking in the usual run of things, of course. "What about you? Don't tell me someone really did run over your puppy."

"You hang around a lot of lobotomy patients, huh?" Wally paused and seemed to think of something. "No, wait. I don't think those guys you're probably thinking of in board meetings count. They're not lobotomised, just bored." He cracked a huge smile and seemed inordinately pleased with himself. "Get it?"

Though he figured if Tony did, he probably wasn't going to be falling about laughing at the joke. Maybe falling about, with his chair like that, but not laughing.

"Trust me, you don't know the meaning of 'bored out of your skull' until you've tried enduring a five hour long stint watching a bunch of computer monitors alone, while you have superspeed. It isn't fun." Worst punishment of his life, more like. Trust Bats to realise exactly how much monitor duty drove Wally nuts and then give him the hours when everyone was likely to be asleep. And who'd have thought John would get so touchy about being woken up at three am? Wasn't he supposed to be used to that kind of thing in the marines anyway?

Right, the conversation with Tony. "You need this place to give you stuff to think about? Wow, are you sure you weren't the one to get lobotomised today?" He smirked again, and it only got more pronounced at the next question.

"Ran over my puppy? Yeah, that's why I'm here. The trauma was just too much." He winked at Tony and seemed to sober up a little. "But honestly? Just... some stuff I wasn't expecting."

A faint, amused smirk was the only evidence that Tony did get it, if not precisely find it side-splittingly funny. "I'd prefer the computers to the board meeting," he replied. His expression darkened, and he looked away as his train of thought skidded dangerously close to topics he'd been trying to avoid considering while still trapped and helpless. "Of course, I wouldn't promise the computers you'd get back would bear much resemblance to the original ones." It was a joke, but strained, and he pushed on past the topic.

"This place isn't exactly stimulating, intellectually or otherwise," he admitted. "At least, not during the day. The county morgue's probably livelier. And they don't really seem interested in letting me work."

There was apparently a glut of people looking for explosives, a change from the usual 'sharp, pointy objects and plenty of them' motif. But that was out of the question, for too many reasons for him to bother listing. Tony dropped the front legs of his chair back to the ground, and prodded his tray to sit on the far corner of his desk.

"And here I'd thought they'd committed you for going over your kitten-rescuing quota." He gave Wally another considering, narrow-eyed look. "Not the good kind of unexpected, I'd wager." He decided against pressing, however. If the other man wanted to talk, he would. Probably at length.

Okay, so from getting the joke to suddenly not liking to talk about computers? It was a pretty weird leap, but obviously the topic was one that bothered Tony, so Wally let it slide. Chances were that it was just Tony missing his home as much as anyone, and he really couldn't fault him that.

"Yeah, I dunno why they wouldn't let a mental patient have some power tools and electronics, I mean, that's pretty weird. How else are they supposed to whip up stuff to bust out of here anyway?" Smiling to himself, Wally got back to what was important for this part of the day: dessert. The pumpkin pie didn't stand a chance really, going the way of most of the Flash's food; devoured in moments without pity and a surprising small amount of mess.

Licking away a few crumbs from around his mouth, Wally settled back into his chair, though his gaze wandered to Tony's tray. "Nah, the kitten-rescuing quota was fine, it was the helping little old ladies across the street part that got me in the end." But his heart wasn't in it as much as it had been earlier.

"Not exactly. I guess..." He sighed. He may as well explain, Tony was pretty good to talk things out with, even if he didn't seem to really be in on the whole 'sharing' thing.

"There's others here with powers like mine. I talked to this kid who came from some other dimension and knew a different version of me, and there was someone else that I was talking to on the bulletin board too." Who he'd given his room number too and who might maybe show up tonight. "I guess it's kind of... weird. I've always been the only one who can go this fast, you know?"

It had been more the thought of board meetings, or why he'd missed the last several, which had darkened Tony's already none-too-bright mood, and the grim edge lingered even as the conversation moved steadily on.

"You'd thing they'd be excited to have us engineering some grand escape," he replied solemnly. "They're kind enough to leave bits and pieces lying around, but it's aggravatingly hard to get at anything during the night. And they watch too carefully during the day." He snorted in grim amusement. "It's a little ironic, actually."

Wally's dilemma wasn't one Tony could relate to exceedingly well. It was one benefit to being completely human, without any sort of special powers. He considered silently for a few seconds before asking, "Does not being the only one bother you? Doesn't sound like they, or at least the kid, are people you're going to run into anywhere else."

"I know that. It's more like..." He thought about it for a bit, trying to put it into words. "You get used to being the only one who can do something, and then someone else shows up who can do the same thing, and while you might be happy that there's someone else, it still feels pretty weird." He sighed. "I dunno, I guess I'll have to get used to it, right?"

Something about what Tony had said about 'bits and pieces' reminded Wally of something that he really should have brought up sooner. "Man, I am such an idiot!" he exclaimed. Then, without any further explanation, he pulled open the draw in his desk and started rummaging through it.

"Why do we need so many pens anyway... Oh hey, my ring! Nearly forgot about that... There it is!" Apparently pleased with himself, he pulled out a file marked 'William Sandia' and offered it to Tony. "We got them from the Entry Room last night, but with everything happening since then, it kinda slipped my mind. Sorry."

"Maybe one of the creatures roaming the halls collects pens," Tony suggested. He'd meant it as a joke, but even as he said it he wondered if there might really be such a thing. It wouldn't be nearly as horrific as the usual fare, but it would certainly be just as bizarre. They certainly couldn't be expected to wear out all thirty of the things just by writing, could they?

Tony hesitated, inexplicably apprehensive, before reaching out to take the file. "Thanks," he replied. "So you did manage to get at the file rooms after all? How heavily guarded was it?"

"Or eats them," Wally suggested. "Maybe that's why it attacks the patients, it's really after their pens. It vants to suck your ink!" He laughed at that and smiled encouragingly at Tony. Even lame jokes were better than being down, right?

Though his attempt as (kinda bad) humour was short-lived, fading away when Tony brought up the file rooms. "There was someone there," he said with a shrug. "One of those brainwashed patients. She had a gun that fired plants. But we did okay."

"A gun that fires plants?" Tony repeated. If one were to judge by his baffled expression, he might have been asking for confirmation on a report of an attack by a two-headed man wearing a fire breathing chicken suit. "That sounds less than effective." After a week, he was learning not to say things like 'unfeasible'. Circumstances seemed to delight in proving accepted laws of mechanics, and reality in general, irritatingly wrong.

He shifted his tray further out of the way and opened his desk to retrieve his flashlight and the spare pair of batteries. "Do you have a contingency plan in place?" he asked. "In case you get taken one night."

"Well technically it fired some kind of dart thing that exploded into plants. That grew all over you. And let me tell you: marigolds do not taste nearly as nice as they look." Wally made a face, though if it was for the memory of the taste or of the night before was hard to tell. Truthfully, some of what had happened in that room still disturbed him in a way he wasn't comfortable with thinking about too closely. And Bats had been so intense...

Tony moved, opening his desk drawer to get out his flashlight and some extra batteries and broke his train of thought.

"Contingency plan? In case I get brainwashed, you mean?" Wally hadn't thought of that. "Uh... I'm sure I can think of something. I mean, how much trouble could I be?" But even as he said it, he remembered the other times he'd been brainwashed or mind controlled or whatever. "Uh, don't answer that."

"I'll make sure not to eat any flowers, then," Tony replied, feigning gravity. The gun itself still sounded bizarre, and he puzzled over it for a few more seconds before remarking, "Sounds like a mutant. Or disgruntled-botanist-meets-Dr-Frankenstein."

Tony busied himself swapping out the old batteries for the new set. He eyed the dead ones, then set them back in the desk and leaned back.

"That bad?" he asked. "And yeah, I meant in case you get brainwashed. Or taken for whatever experiments they perform upstairs." He broke off, grimacing at the thought.

"Yeah... It can get like that," Wally said evasively. "I guess I'll try and come up with something though, just in case. What about you? What do we do if you get mind controlled and start unleashing your powers of sarcasm on everyone?" He grinned, but Tony's words had hit home. If something like that were to happen, Bats would probably think it was a good idea to have some kind of plan ready as well, just in case.

Finally the intercom came to static-filled life and the crazy head doctor guy started... wait, snoring?

"Dude, aren't we good enough for crazy ranting any more? Come on! I was promised crazy ranting every night along with my monsters trying to eat me and evil schemes! I'm half tempted to demand a refund."

The door had unlocked with that distinctive click though, so it seemed like whatever it was either wasn't controlled by Landel or was automated. It might be worth writing that down, come to think of it. Every bit of info helped, right?

"Doesn't sound very likely, does it?" Tony asked with a grin, though it didn't quite make it all the way up to his eyes. He wasn't quite sure which would be worse, mind control or being subject to whatever sick experiments the people staffing the institute were likely to run.

No, he could. Being brainwashed into attacking innocent people would be far worse.

The crackle of the intercom was almost a relief, before relief dissolved into utter bemusement. "You'd think someone who can fund this place could at least afford some caffeine pills to keep himself awake, wouldn't you?" he replied. "You just can't find good megalomaniacs these days."

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Day 39: Intercom, Evening

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