damned_institute | Day 40: Intercom, Dawn

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Day 40: Intercom, Dawn

The intercom clicked on just as it did every single day, and for once, the Head Doctor seemed as aware of the monotony of the daily schedule as much as everyone else.

"Greetings," he said with a yawn. The sound of him smacking his lips together groggily could be heard. "Funny story: I drifted off to sleep at my desk last night. The things that we workaholics do to ourselves! Hahaha..."

It seemed to occur to him that saying any word ending in the suffix "holic" wasn't a good idea in a mental hospital. He laughed a little nervously and continued.

"In any case, it looks like we'll be continuing our therapy sessions today, but of course, we also have activities on the recreational field and in the greenhouse available for all the rest of our patient body. For now, though, breakfast awaits, and it consists of a wonderful English muffin sandwich with a sausage patty, friend egg, and slice of cheese. For sides, we have tater tots, bacon, and scrambled eggs – if you want any of extras of your muffin ingredients, aha – and as always, we have a salad bar and all of our regular assorted drinks available."

He paused for a few seconds, as if looking for something to add.

"...I think... that's it."

The intercom turned off rather abruptly.

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And suddenly, he was huddled up in his bed.

What the hell?

It didn't seem like they had taken so long, the night couldn't lasted more than half an hour at most. And somehow, in the middle of walking to the clinic, they were all knocked out and dragged back into bed? Geez, what a cheap trick! How did they even manage that? Did they gas everyone or what?

So in short, they didn't get anywhere last night, and Harry was still as crippled as ever. They'd have to try again tonight, no dawdling this time. Harry needed to get out of those crutches ASAP, or he'd be a sitting duck for any crazy that happened to walk by.

Peter rose, stretching his head from side to side, waiting until that achy crick in his neck faded away before he fully opened his eyes.

On the other side of the room, Brainiac 5 was in shambles. Covered from head to toe in bandages long since stained red, bruises all over his skin. He wasn't awake.

In an instant he was at his roommate's side, half the bed covers wrestled loose onto the floor.

"Oh my god - Brainy! Brainy!" Peter shouted. He almost reached over to shove him awake, but quickly remembered the bruises, frantically waving his hands as he struggled with where to put them. Gingerly, he reached under the boy's head, lifting it a fraction from the pillow so that he was face to face with him. "Are you all right?! Wake up!!"

Consciousness was, understandably, a long time coming and heralded by a cacophony of pains, aches, and... someone shouting at him?

Brainiac 5 groaned, wishing that whoever it was would at least have the sense to quiet down without him having to tell them. His head hurt enough already from last night's abuse without them going out of their way to make the entire situation worse. With a reasonable amount of effort, he managed to get his eyes open enough to blink blearily up at whoever was hovering over him.

"Peter?" His voice sounded hoarse and his throat hurt; a memory of Grell's fingers wrapped tightly around it came to mind. Though it was far from the worst of his injuries from last night. In all honesty, he had calculated a high chance that he wouldn't be waking up at all, so the pain and weakness was good in that respect.

Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself, but all the same he hoped that there was some kind of drug available to repress the pain. Knowing he was alive was one thing, but he'd quickly begin to wish he was dead if he didn't get something.

Oh thank god, he was alive.

The sprawling violet bruises on over his cheek and circling his neck had Peter transfixed. His jaw dropped in horror.

This was no accident. Somebody had strangled him - beaten him halfway to death. Even closer than that, if the deathly croak was any indication. The bandages covered the worst of the wounds, leaving Peter to imagine what sort of terrible mutilations lay beneath them.

"Oh god...Who did this to you?" His hands trembled. As gently as he could, he guided Brainiac's head back onto the pillow. "How did this happen?

Peter had seen worse. Not often, but he had. Rarely on someone like Brainy, though. It was usually an adult - someone who could, theoretically, handle the pain, the beating. But Brainy was just a kid. Like him. Who would do something like this?

Brainiac 5 coughed and swallowed with difficulty, wishing that there was something to drink available. At the very least it would have given him something else to focus on than Peter's concerned face. He wasn't used to seeing that expression on a stranger he'd only just met the night previous. It was... off-putting. He had to remind himself that it was likely that Peter's concern was more over the fact that someone was injured than anything specifically directed to himself.

"...there were two of them," he said eventually. He tilted his face away from Peter's and gazed at the wall instead. "I made an error. I'm sorry to have worried you, but I can handle this."

But it was obviously a lie. Grell had found him in his room and in escaping from them... He closed his eyes. He'd hit Grell with a radio and Luxord with a chair. What had he been thinking? Or more accurately, not. His mind had been so clouded with shock, blood loss, and a burning desire to escape that it was all he'd been able to focus on. That and how he'd never, ever allow anyone to control his actions and thoughts, no matter how indirectly, again.

Unfortunately as nice as the defiance had felt at the time, there was no hiding from the fact that Grell both knew where he was and was most definitely intending further vengeance. Or simply enjoyed torturing him. With how psychotic the man was, either was a good enough reason. He'd have to come up with something though, he'd barely survived the night before (his memory was fuzzy, but he thought that perhaps someone had helped him in that respect), it was highly likely that the next time Grell decided to visit would be his last.

"Handle it? Brainy, they could have killed you. You can't even -" He clutched at his temple, trying to calm himself down. Panicking was not going to help Brainy, he had to focus on the facts instead of pitching a fit. Somebody had patched him up (who?), but the boy was far from all right.

Steeling himself, Peter kneeled by the bed, coming as close to eye level as he could with Brainy. "Listen. You need to tell me who did this, okay? We can't - I won't let this happen again. I won't." He hesitated a moment, but rested a steady hand on top of his wrist, one of the few parts of his body that wasn't swathed in bandages. "Was it the red-haired guy?"

This was the limit. Only a true monster could do this to a boy - one who, if his knowledge was correct, had done absolutely nothing wrong. It hadn't even been a simple attempt on his life. None of the injuries had been fatal by themselves, and they were spread out too far for an ordinary struggle. Whoever did this had wanted to torture Brainy. Maybe they left him alive for that very reason.

A violent twist gripped Peter's stomach. With grim resolve, he vowed to tell Steve and the others that something needed to be done. Escape would have to wait.

"I... have friends..." Or more accurately one friend, he reminded himself, and a few people who might offer assistance. But that was it. And against Grell... he wasn't sure any more what could be done. The self-proclaimed 'death god' had as much as said that it didn't matter anymore if Brainiac 5 exposed him or not, and as Luxord had clearly shown, it was likely that he'd find others that shared his desire to harm those around him.

"But what can I do?" he wondered aloud, his voice soft from both the difficulty in talking and with talking largely to himself. Peter was most likely correct, there wasn't anything he could do should they return, and they would return at some point. With Grell there was no doubt that he wouldn't.

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to face Peter or that truth of the matter: that he was too weak and vulnerable to defend himself here. Back home, in his own time and with the Legion, he would have been more than capable of healing the damage he'd taken and defending himself with ease. But here...

Here he was all too human, as the injuries, pain, and weakness showed.

A hand fell on his wrist, reminding him that Peter was still standing over him, and he opened his eyes again to look up at the other boy. Running away, mentally or otherwise, would help with nothing now.

"Yes. Grell and another man. Luxord." He managed a faint, wry smile. "Apparently I managed to get on his bad side as well."

Okay. He had names now. Definitely some weird ones, but psychos always liked to separate themselves from the pack. All he needed to do now was find them, and make sure they never came near Brainy or anyone else again.

Which would be a lot more difficult than it was back home. He couldn’t just web the bad guys up and expect the cops or S.H.E.I.L.D. to come take care of the rest. From what he could gather about the differences between night and day here, the staff would have no clue about what happened once the lights went out. Or they were in on the ‘joke’, and wouldn’t lift a finger to stop an attack on a patient anyway. Essentially, there was no way anyone would believe that these people had savaged Brainy, and therefore no chance of seeing them locked up for good. Would a threat be enough to keep them at bay? Even if he could get all the heroes he knew to help him, could that scare them away forever? Could they really protect him all the time?

Seeing Brainy wincing in agony was enough to make up his mind. The others could do what they wanted, but Peter? He was going to make sure that these jokers never touched anybody again. Grell, Luxord, Eddie: they were all going to regret it.

He licked his lips, continuing in a softer, soothing tone. “Where did they attack you? Here? In the hallway? Do you know what their room numbers are?”

Brainiac 5 made a choked noise that might have been a bark of laughter from a sore throat. "I made an error," he said, his voice raspier than it had been before. He really hoped that the nurses would bring something for him to drink when they finally arrived. "They found out my room number. I'm afraid they weren't kind enough to return the favour though."

He winced and tried to relax further into the bed. The burst of laughter had reminded him exactly of where his injuries were - several of which were no doubt stitched beneath the bandages - and his shoulder, side, and back were beginning to throb even more painfully now. He'd have given anything for his normal body, with the ability to just shut off the pain receptors in the area until he'd fixed the problem, or even just some thirty-first century medical technology that would have been much more efficient than this.

But unfortunately he couldn't afford to just lie around and try to sleep all day. He had to find Clark, warn him about Grell and Luxord. He hadn't forgotten Grell's threats from before and while for the moment the psychotic patient seemed happier to attack Brainiac 5, he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't change his mind.

Taking care not to put too much weight on his left shoulder, which had taken the worst of the abuse the night previously, Brainiac 5 slowly tried to push himself into a more upright position; a task that quickly proved more difficult than he'd imagined, judging by how the room spun around him.

Peter wasn't sure that Brainy should be sitting up just yet, but nonetheless reached out to steady him. He only hoped that he wasn't making it worse; there didn't seem to be an inch free of agony on the boy.

"Hey take it easy, okay? You don't want to rip anything open," he advised. "And it doesn't matter about the room numbers. We just gotta make sure they don't catch you alone again."

Soft clicks emanated from the hall and behind their door - footsteps. For a brief instant Peter thought he should dive back into bed and feign sleep, but then he realized what a phenomenally stupid idea it was. He was supporting Brainiac, after all, and he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Good morn- Tyler!! Get away from him!!"

Well, apparently his nurse disagreed.

He was forcibly dragged out the door as Brainiac's nurse rushed to his side. Keeping a shockingly firm grip, she marched him straight down the hallway, scolding him all the while.

"Really, the poor boy's in enough pain as it is! I'll have to speak to your doctor about this, Tyler. If keep harassing him come dinner time, I'll have you transferred to another room. Is that clear?"

"Unfortunately they have the advantage here," he said, though his voice was tight with pain. "They know where to find me when they want and I can't count on people to defend me forever. I'll have to think of another way to deal with the problem on my own."

He didn't get the chance to say anything further though, as then the door was opening to reveal two nurses, both of whom seemed shocked and upset at how Peter was helping him to sit up. Before he was entirely sure what was happening, Peter was being dragged away and the remaining nurse was fussing over him, propping him up with pillows and then providing him with medication and a glass of water to wash it down, which gave some much needed relief to his throat. He began to feel a little better.

And then she brought in a wheelchair.

"...No. Surely I can walk with some assistance..."

"I'm afraid not, Michael," the nurse answered firmly. "You hurt yourself quite badly and we don't want you to accidentally pull any of your stitches. I should hope now you've learned your lesson that teasing the guard dogs isn't a very good idea."

He stared up at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. Arguing would have been pointless now, and the effects of the painkillers were powerful enough to make him feel pleasantly light-headed and numb, so perhaps trying to mange on his own wouldn't have ended well after all.

That didn't mean that he didn't dislike the idea of Grell or Luxord (or anyone else for that matter) seeing him like this. It was too... pathetic. A reminder of how much of mistake he'd made.

But he went along quietly with the nurse as she helped him into the chair and then walked him out towards the cafeteria, only speaking up to beg a moment to put up a note on the bulletin for a friend.

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Day 40: Intercom, Dawn

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