damned_institute | Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

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Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

[M12]

There was this 'Avatar' again, the thing that supposedly linked one's consciousness within this video game. Klavier couldn't quite understand how such a thing could help anyone fight, but he was certain that this connection had something to do with how and why Endrance was taken. If this really wasn't something every player experienced, then there was little doubt others might find such a thing interesting, yes? He still wasn't sure how this all worked, but preserving this connection had to be the point of it all. At least in this particular case.

Any further discussion on this or the strange 'Kira' murders was cut short with the intercom announcement. If one could call it that. Herr Doktor's voice and demeanor changed come nightfall, true, but this was stranger than usual. In fact, he couldn't even be sure if it was the doctor. It was far too raspy to identify either way.

This was getting more bizarre with every evening. First taunting then what may or may not have been snoring... and now this strange dilapidated voice?

"Open the box?" he repeated. What could he possibly mean by that? ...Wait. Was this voice even addressing the patient population? It seemed too specific a thing to say to everyone. Could this be a message for Herr Doktor? Or was this a message for a specific party? Maybe someone had managed to do something recently...

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In the safety of the shadows, Kristoph rolled his eyes. Twice. A part of him couldn't believe he was being dragged into this madness, but the man had no choice. It would be to his benefit to follow along; anything else would become problematic. Or more so, given this circumstance was already proving to be a massive headache.

And yet... He observed his brother and their recent "procurement" for a moment, before stooping down to reach for the pipes. They outweighed any intention of touching that unfortunate thing; there were only so much he would do for family.

Armed with flashlight and pipe, he then strolled over to the door and pulled it open. "Quickly."

Or perhaps Kristoph wouldn't be helping after all. Though it was obvious to see why once his brother had picked up one of the pipes. If both went down the hall carrying the body, they'd be completely vulnerable. Not to mention it would be hard to see where they were going without someone holding a flashlight. As usual, the elder brother was several steps ahead of the younger.

Klavier simply nodded his head and moved out with the body in tow.

[Quickly, Kristoph! To the ~~Gavinmobile~~ clinic!]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/604465.html?thread=51031857#t51031857).]

Between the appearance of the body and its aftermath, M12 was in a state of disarray. Pipes strewn about the floor. Closet ajar. Desk littered with papers. True, the result could have been much worse, but considering both men's meticulous attention to detail, the state was unacceptable. So much so that rather than waiting for his little brother to find him, Kristoph set to organize what he could.

Of course, cleaning was not the only objective the blond had in mind. The task gave him a chance to snoop around, see what the younger Gavin (and his roommate) might have stowed away. There was probably nothing to find (a short rummage through the closets had yet to disprove this assumption), but a little look could not hurt.

Soon, nearly everything had been put away or stacked against the wall. Kristoph then casually approached the paper piles on his brother's desk and with a more cautious eye, began to "sort" them.

[from here]

It was becoming apparent that extended periods of time in dark spaces coupled with a mind that thought far too much was an extremely dangerous combination. A few minutes of walking through pitch black was enough to play on Klavier's paranoia enough to nearly drive him mad. It very well might have if he didn't have the luxury of distraction.

When he finally reached his room, he quietly exhaled in relief. There he was, sitting quietly at Klavier's desk and calmly looking through papers. Completely normal as if there were no problems whatsoever. It was a scene he was used to seeing before... that. It was exactly how he always wanted to remember him: reserved, working, and unfazed by anything around him.

Suddenly, Klavier almost felt exhausted. That had taken quite the toll on his heart, but now that he knew Kristoph was safe, he felt rather silly about jumping to conclusions. It was a bit too much for the moment. He needed to collect himself. Again.

Without a word to Kristoph as of yet, he took the chair from Endrance's side (he wouldn't mind if he wasn't using it) and set it at the side of the desk before sitting himself into it. Still secretly shaken by the mini-ordeal, he couldn't bring himself to say anything just yet. He simply watched what his brother was doing.

Despite a thorough read, the papers revealed little to no useful information. The surveys were actually the most informative of the lot, and even then, they failed to capture his interest. His scope did not lie with the general patient populace, only a select few. And what these notes contained were relatively harmless in nature.

They did, however, pass the time.

When Klavier returned, the elder did not budge from his spot. Instead, he flipped casually to another page and started to skim its contents. "You're back," Kristoph murmured. "How was it?"

There was a brief pause after the question, as though Klavier was actually considering the answer. "...Interesting. And somewhat strange. People have an odd way of thinking here," he answered as casually as possible. "But provided he keeps himself still, he should be fine."

He had no immediate intention of discussing the odd glowing phenomenon just yet. Not unless specifically asked. Strange anomaly, certainly, but he had no real way to describe what it was that had happened. That woman --Hinamori, was it?-- had described it as spiritual energy or some such nonsense, but it obviously didn't turn out how she imagined it to. Likely her idea of it was incorrect as well. He'd rather not sit here and stab at things he couldn't even classify when there were already far too many mysteries to consider.

His eyes were on the notes Kristoph was looking over as opposed to his face. He frowned just a little, unable to see the specific page his brother was looking at. He had no problem with him looking the data over, of course; anyone was welcome to whatever information he managed to gather (with exception to some). Thankfully, he'd kept his notes organized... Though many of the notes regarding the survey were incomplete.

Speaking of which, he had wanted further feedback regarding the notes from the Fräulein Detective and Edgeworth, but any insight his brother could provide would probably be several levels more helpful. And since it was one of the largest sections in his notes, there was no doubt the elder had stumbled across it to some degree. Actually... any observations Kristoph had would probably be profoundly valuable.

"...I've been keeping track of the nightly events people have been reporting and trying to find similarities within the patient body." Yes, his brother hadn't exactly asked for any elaboration, but it didn't hurt to say anything right? "At the moment, it seems somewhat fruitless. What connections exist are vague and seemingly unimportant. And there doesn't seem to be much linearity in the staff's activities. It's... peculiar."

Unfortunately, there were so many bizarre things going on, Klavier was admittedly taking on far too much at once, even for him. Every time he tried to pursue one mystery he was faced with at least ten more. It was endless...

Kristoph was no fool. His brother must have witnessed something extraordinary in the clinic to warrant such a response. Perhaps an element completely contrary to their reality-- Their late charge rising miraculously to execute several back handsprings without further agitation to his injuries, for instance. The possibilities served to pique the man's curiosity a bit.

At the same time, however, the interruption had more or less been a thorn at his side. No interest would make up for all the time he did not wish to deal with the matter. It had concluded. Any more would only serve to remind him of wasted minutes. And that irritated him. Greatly.

He instead flipped to another page and resisted the urged to sniff in derisive amusement. Apparently this 11 to 15-year-old patient was from the "Fire Country". Most broad. "Yes, I have noticed," Kristoph responded, sounding somewhat distracted for a man so thoroughly focused. "Your preliminary analysis hardly surprises me. The material you have now is...lacking at best. Combining other factors, you would be fortunate to manage even one conjecture." These so-called factors were more incidental as opposed to originating from incompetence. Not everyone, for example, would have bothered or desired to give away information--not without a cost, at least. Klavier would be hard pressed to provide the necessary price for each and every patient, much like any researcher and their study.

He turned another page. This one--another young man--proved much more detailed in his answers. "I would not disregard them so soon, however. Even insignificance may reveal a new path." A smile. "Or throw your entire investigation offtrack." This was nothing new to a seasoned associate of investigations: incomplete sources only frustrate, statistics lie, but any information was worth its weight (or lack thereof). Klavier knew this--there was no questioning the boy's knowledge--but a reminder could never hurt.

"Personally," Kristoph continued, his hand once again shifting papers, "I believe the staff's activities are not their own."

'Lacking.' That was a very fitting way to describe it. Klavier could admit that was the case. True, he had gathered as much as possible for the brief time he'd been there, but it was still little to go on. Even then, all he could ever manage were collections of fragments; some based on opinions and some incomplete due to general paranoia. Yet, it was all he could manage for now. Even if nothing concrete came of it, it was better than nothing at all.

He inwardly smiled at the small vote of confidence that statement brought. No information was a waste; it was true. Throughout their careers, they'd both seen what seems like the smallest detail completely make or break a case. Everything deserved its due consideration. It was too early in the game to be declaring anything a lost cause.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" he asked, an immediate interest being taken in the new point. He was somewhat leaning forward now with undisciplined interest. "It seems the lower ranked staff are utterly oblivious to what's going on, and from what I've seen, there's yet to be much of anything regarding the upper ranks... outside whatever atrocities people feel comfortable in sharing."

Although Kristoph appeared nowhere near attentive, his focus was on Klavier and Klavier alone. The papers in front of him momentarily shifted to the background in an effort to indulge his lieber Brüderlein. "Simple," he answered. "They are unaware of their own actions. Ignorant. Not like cattle, mind you, but there is an element of control over the poor souls which exists on a level beyond their understanding."

A thought struck the man, then. He turned to face Klavier, blue eyes fixed on blue. "If you seek a more concrete illustration..." His lips pulled into an unpleasant smile. "I use you, your fame with the masses, and your position as prosecutor to commit the perfect crime. My actions are discrete; I seem nothing more than the usual brother to you in our discourse. Would you have uncovered my scheme in this circumstance? Would you have known the angel you loved was the Devil himself?"

He chuckled, as if shaking off the words as nothing more than a jest. "Excuse me. I shouldn't resort to poetics so casually."

Edited 2009-04-29 07:19 (UTC)

One could have frozen time and it wouldn't have replicated the sudden stillness that followed Kristoph's words. Klavier stared with a look bordering somewhere between blank and flabbergasted, almost like the words had yet to fully register in his head.

What kind of... Forget poetics. Was his brother mad? Who said something like that for sake of example?! Sometimes, Kristoph could have a very morbid sense of humor. Though he wouldn't call this an attempt at being funny. Honestly, it was somewhat hurtful to consider.

...This was so silly. Why was he letting this bother him? It was just a simple example to explain a point he himself had asked about. It served its purpose in elaborating, strange as it might have seemed. ...No. That wasn't why it was irking him. It was because now he was thinking of Daryan. He'd done his best to avoid thinking about that case, and bringing it back to the forefront of his mind was grinding on his nerves.

Ach, he was letting his mind digress from the point. Just because it was a personal example and dragged up bad memories didn't mean he could just let himself get careless. He considered Kristoph's example, trying to be as objective as possible regarding the hypothetical situation.

"Ah. Well. I can see your point," he said a bit slowly. There was a healthy distance in his tone, mostly so it was apparent he was agreeing to the point not Kristoph's probability of doing such a thing. "In the case of that example... provided there was no change in behavior and you really were discrete, it would probably be difficult to detect anything foul. Likely, that would be even easier for someone as distant as one's boss. ...It would explain why it is he chooses to change behavior during the day."

That had been one of the biggest puzzles: Why would Herr Doktor bother when everyone here knew? This theory of his brother's actually explained it rather nicely. "However... There is no such thing as a perfect crime. I'm under the impression this operation has been going on for quite some time. I would think manipulation and deception could only last so long. Maybe a year or two. Someone would have to notice something eventually, and I'm certain Dr. Landel is aware of that. There has to be more to it than that. Counter-measures of some sort, perhaps."

It was a fact that the majority of serial killers tended to be very good at deception and charisma, enough to fool those around them. But they did always slip up at some point. And then there were those like Daryan who got caught even faster. Though he would never compare Daryan to this lunatic. There was a difference between being a bastard and simply being evil, after all.

Oh? Had Kristoph spoken out of turn? Mentioned the unmentionable? Hurt his younger brother so cruelly with the innocent analogy? Klavier looked so utterly put off-- He'd surely hit upon one of those points.

Kristoph canted his head, a fine mix of concern and veiled interest. "You appear distressed," he stated. "Have I gone too far?" If so, his intent went off without a single hitch.

Despite his own question, he managed another set of subdued laughter. "It is merely an example. Do not become so somber you miss the point." It was a warning...and a tease if Klavier was observant enough. Kristoph certainly did not appear so heartless as to withhold some false sympathy, but one could derive a possibility not present until now.

Thankfully (or not), the young man regained his senses, and their discussion continued. "Theoretically, yes," he answered, his tone now gentle, "but you bring up a solid detail. No human holds the concept of infinity. An entertainer can only manage a single act for so long. It is reasonable to assume he has...leverage."

"Controlling psyches, perhaps," suggested Kristoph. "The hospital is capable of brainwashing. The concept is not entirely inconceivable."

To be perfectly honest, Klavier viewed that more as a tease than a serious statement (though there was one there, of course). A subtle poke at the over emotional little brother, it seemed. It was the kind of thing anyone would have done in response to someone taking something a bit too seriously. He knew he would have in the same situation. Somehow or other, it didn't exactly make him feel better.

"No, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he said as nonchalantly as possible. You just have bad taste in analogies. Luckily, the slip had only been brief. He'd regained a thoughtful expression as though nothing had happened at all.

"That's very likely. Between brainwashing and erasing memory, they certainly don't lack the technology or the means to do something like that. And they most probably wouldn't hesitate to use it on staff." Now he almost felt bad for the poor nurses. If this was the case, everyone here was a victim in the end. ...Hmm.

"...If that's really the case, it makes one wonder why he doesn't simply do so with everyone here. Instead, they leave us to our own devices, to resist or cooperate as we wish. It would be easier to just make everyone compliant." Unless the resistance was the point. What could that mean then? ...Was he actually choosing people based on their personalities rather than their jobs, connections, or histories? Those who would react in ways he wanted? If he really is as good at manipulation as Kristoph speculated, maybe....

For now, he would allow their interaction to progress unfazed. There would be plenty of opportunities for disparaging later. "Good," Kristoph replied, sounding far more tickled than usual.

The mirth, however, soon disintegrated into deadly quiet, as though the man was taken by a sour thought. Klavier would not catch the reason for the shift, but like many of his habits, the elder was justified. Especially considering the memory those words invoked. "Among others." He turned away to papers.

"The answer depends upon our host, or the strings behind him," he continued. His tone remained unchanged. "He may wish to break us for entertainment's sake, much like a child removing the head of a doll in jest. Or perhaps he finds conscious suffering to be informative. The reasons are endless." Not that Kristoph actually believed such was the case. He had yet to budge on the point: Martin Landel will always be a simple man.

Edited 2009-05-01 06:14 (UTC)

The sudden, brief silence was enough to catch his attention. In fact, for a moment, Klavier thought he might have said something a bit too ridiculous. Fortunately, it seemed to simply be the morbidity of the conversation.

Though the point he made was... odd, to say the least. "Others? Like his superiors?" Frankly he thought that to be a little... far-fetched. A bit too much so for one of Kristoph's theories. The focus shifting beyond the patients and staff was random and leading to too broad a subject, especially since they hadn't the slightest idea what the operations beyond Herr Doktor were like. An unusually blind stab for his brother. Then again, with the brevity of the comment, maybe Kristoph had just been thinking aloud. ...No, that was still a bit strange. "I would think it would probably be easier to execute such things with a controllable mass rather than moving beyond those in the institute. That might be exceptionally risky. Probably too much so to chance it."

Then again, the man's motives were unpredictable and indeed the possibilities were endless, as his brother said. This entire setup was risky and idiotic to begin with, so perhaps common sense and reason didn't really come into play when it came down to it.

It took considerable amount of restraint to keep the "Oh, please," to himself. Instead, Kristoph waved a dismissive hand, his eyes still locked on the surveys. "No," he said, "albeit you were on the right track." The question now became whether or not the man felt like sharing where his brother missed the mark. He was planning to draw the punishment out for as long as possible; revealing the source reeked of prematurity.

In the end, he opted for a compromise. This topic could prove sweet if progressed correctly. "Have you heard of visitors?"

Klavier thought that sounded a bit too strange to be right. It was too idiotic a move. Herr Doktor was unpredictable but not stupid. But...

"Visitors?" Well, this was new. Why was it he kept getting tidbits out of the blue that everyone prior somehow failed to mention? If he was understanding this correctly, one would think visitors from the outside coming into the complex would be a rather important detail. Why was this his first time hearing of such a thing?

"No, I haven't heard anything about any visitors," he said, actually seeming a bit perplexed by the idea.

"Visitors," Kristoph echoed. "The staple of every patient and prison inmate in the country with any ounce of a social life." A part of that sentence might register as 'nostalgic' for the younger blond, but he hardly cared.

"To maintain the illusion of a true mental health facility, Landel has established visiting hours every Sunday." According to the schedule posted on the bulletin, at least. Certain restrictions probably applied to the privilege. "The visitors themselves are much like the staff: they play a part in the Head Doctor's schemes-- With or without awareness, I cannot say. They are, however, the more effective method in breaking patients' will to escape. Part of the reason has to do with their identity."

And here, he smiled. "You can say they are...recognizable."

Had Klavier taken the time to sit down and actually consider the fact that this place did everything in its power to replicate a true mental institution, this wouldn't have come as a surprise. As someone who knew the prison systems... and had his fair share of prison visits himself... he should have known, should have realized. How could he have not taken that possibility into account? He really wasn't paying attention to what should have been right in front of him, was he?

Luckily, that wasn't an issue at the moment. With the previous topic still fresh and now this, it was impossible to not understand what his brother was getting at. He frowned, actually looking very bothered by the concept. "You mean... people back home. They're brought in under the guise of 'visiting' and brainwashed to play along."

That meant... these people were watching everyone back home, everyone with some connection to those they'd taken; Friends, family, and co-workers were all subject. Maybe it had something to do with breaking the patients, yes, but it could have been a declaration, too. Showing off the hostages, one might say. It was disturbing to think everyone he thought was safe back home was actually being watched. No, he didn't like this at all.

He looked away from Kristoph, down at the desk, in consideration. "I doubt any would play along 'with awareness' of their actions. If anything, it makes more sense to utilize brainwashing for this reason above any other. It's hard to believe they would really go so far..."

Edited 2009-05-02 07:59 (UTC)

"That may be," Kristoph remarked softly. His determination wavered a degree at his brother's statement; the whole thing reeked of needing a thorough explanation. He could even twist the knife an inch more if the man played his cards correctly. The thought was tempting, very tempting; however, there was the time and the place for damage. Luckily for Klavier, now was far too soon.

"It begs the question, however," he continued, "regarding the distinction between 'patient' and 'visitor'. Why not trap us all within the hospital? What traits do we possess which allow our minds to remain generally unrestricted?" He raised an eyebrow. "Why do some after a period of 'visitation' become drawn into the institute's affairs? The answers are vague at best."

"It'll be difficult pinpointing what exactly makes the selected patients worth the trouble. The individual cases are too different," Klavier agreed. "But it's obvious the 'visitors' are basically useless beyond the notion of manipulation. One has to wonder if maybe drawing patients into the institute's affairs is part of the reason for using the visitors in the first place. Maybe they want people here to actively 'resist' in whatever way. It's hard to imagine them allowing these counter efforts if it was truly undesired."

This was getting strange. The more he considered it, the less likely it was that any 'patients' were here due to any spontaneity. It looked like everyone was chosen for some specific reason, though what that might be was unclear. What made them targets when those around them were deemed only worthy of being watched or used?

He inwardly sighed, trying to restrain his frustration. "There's too little to go on to get any clear ideas. And unfortunately, it doesn't look like too many people are willing to change that."

Difficult to tell which was strongest: the friction between the patients and the staff or that between the patients themselves. It almost looked like the latter. This... really wasn't looking like it would end well. To think their freedom could be hindered by something so trivial.

Difficult to pinpoint that may be, but if Klavier was anything close to a competent lawyer, he would recognize the true reasons were likely right under their nose. Most so-called mysteries contained solutions generally overlooked except for the truly observant. If Kristoph honestly cared about the topic, he might have suggested they look for points within reach, not dabble in how troubling it was to analyze Martin Landel's madhouse.

But as it stood, the attorney could not lend himself to concern. Escape and active resistance would be nice, yes. No one could call him a Landel supporter by any stretch of the imagination. As long as his brother lived, however, any progress toward those goals would simply bring him closer to another prison. For a man with no future, biding his time was really all he cared to do.

"The answers will come in time," he replied instead. "Frustrations will only strain what progress we--" He'd almost said 'you'. "--hope to make."

Without warning, Kristoph flipped over the page of notes in his hands, before setting it gingerly off to the side. "Oh, yes. If we can veer off course for a minute," he began. "I propose we consider alternative means of communication over the bulletin. Our last attempt...attracted attention." Of course, he only perhaps aggravated the situation, but it did make up for the pesky effort of having to remember the young man's trove of kitsch lyrics.

The bulletin board. Though the idea wasn't one he was particularly fond of, Klavier fully understood the importance of anonymity on the board. Even if he chose not to do it constantly, it was unfortunately necessary in certain cases, like communicating with Kristoph. All because certain individuals liked to make things a bit more complicated than necessary.

Using Klavier's lyrics was actually a very good idea, but as Kristoph had said, this last time had attracted attention. Though not the type he was typically accustomed to. It was true. His music didn't always suit everyone's personal tastes, Forehead and Fräulein Detective being two prime examples. But this recent reaction had nothing to do with music. Those were the Gavinners' lyrics that had been up there. His lyrics. To think anything he had written as a musician --no, as anything-- had fallen under even momentary negative scrutiny was simply unfathomable. They were taken out of context, yes. And they lost their impact while written incomplete, sure. But calling them 'bad lines?'

Some people simply didn't have an eye for art, he supposed.

But this train of thought was digressing. Contemplating the mindset of tasteless clods would have to wait for another time. There was a brief exhale through his nose before he nodded. "Agreed. There are only so many lyrics we can use in context to begin with. We'll probably have to join the trend of bulletin alias names. ...Something more creative than initials."

Though obviously, initials wouldn't work in their case. It was less an idea and more a slight jab at no one in particular.

It was terribly difficult to avoid the urge to poke fun at the situation, but Kristoph somehow managed. For the most part, anyway.

"More creative than initials, hm?" He slipped an arm across his chest in contemplation. Pulling originality while keeping one's cover was not readily done through writing. An author's pseudonym, for instance, could easily be decrypted if their style matched any known works. Lyrics were convenient because the patient body had no access to Klavier's music (as Kristoph originally predicted). The men from 'their' Los Angeles were prior to the Gavinner's rise to fame. Unless his brother degraded to complete idiocy and leaked his lyrics, they would be relatively safe from a reveal.

That, unfortunately, returned them to the original issue: unwanted attention. The songs were flamboyant at best, hardly qualified to sneak past the eyes of prying individuals. Pity they weren't among common Americans. Using German might have proved more effective.

He sighed, albeit pleasantly. "You are likely correct. We've no choice but to resort to false names." What kind, however, was the night's question. "Preferably pedestrian. Fancy would simply throw us back into our dilemma."

He had to agree. As amusing as names like Superboy and Starscream could be on the bulletin board, something less extravagant would be more suitable. Luckily, with such a diverse patient body, even slightly more unusual names could be considered commonplace. Especially with so many from Japan. Klavier would personally prefer to stay away from Japanese names, however. More likely than not, anything he could think of belonged to about four other individuals.

There in lay another issue: It would be difficult to think of ordinary names not too many others might have. It would be pointless to use a name multiple people would respond to after all. This was a tricky little problem. How would they know what names were safe and which weren't?

"Anything too common would probably be taken by actual patients," he said in consideration. "...There is also the possibility of using pre-established alias names. Fictional characters or pen names, for example. Nothing too complicated would be necessary. Even a children's book would work. I doubt there are any works that could be associated with us in particular."

Kristoph considered the words for a moment before rising to his feet. "Works, perhaps," he mused, a teasing smile playing on his lips, "but not creators."

It was simply, really. Kristoph and Klavier Gavin, two brothers in extraordinary circumstances, whose pens flowed with allegories not their own. ...He might have stepped too far with the former--the ideas in his mind weren't quite as unfortunate as they--but overall, it worked. Almost too well.

The man pointed to himself, as though to make a declaration. "Jakob," he said, before indicating the brother below him. "Wilhelm." Die Brüder Grimm.

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Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

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