http://damned-intercom.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
damned-intercom.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-05-22 05:28 am
damned-intercom.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-05-22 05:28 am
Day 41: Intercom, Afternoon
When the intercom's jingle rang through the Institute's speakers, the Head Doctor sounded a little more rushed than usual.
"Paperwork, paperwork," he sighed. There was a scratching sound, as if he was rubbing his face. "In any case, this activity shift, as per usual, is a reverse of the last; children in the Courtyard and adults in their respective showers. Newcomers have already been cleaned upon arrival; as such, they may spend their shift with the children in the Courtyard or relaxing in the Sun Room."
The Head Doctor paused, as if realizing how he was sounding more like a certain other person who also did intercom announcements. Still, it did nothing to help his brevity.
"In any case, I'll talk to you after the next shift!"
The intercom clicked off.
[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post.
Have your character wake up in a random room as we don't have roommates sorted out yet. Putting M??/F?? in the subject line is fine. ]
"Paperwork, paperwork," he sighed. There was a scratching sound, as if he was rubbing his face. "In any case, this activity shift, as per usual, is a reverse of the last; children in the Courtyard and adults in their respective showers. Newcomers have already been cleaned upon arrival; as such, they may spend their shift with the children in the Courtyard or relaxing in the Sun Room."
The Head Doctor paused, as if realizing how he was sounding more like a certain other person who also did intercom announcements. Still, it did nothing to help his brevity.
"In any case, I'll talk to you after the next shift!"
The intercom clicked off.
[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post.
Have your character wake up in a random room as we don't have roommates sorted out yet. Putting M??/F?? in the subject line is fine. ]
no subject
There was a brief shock when he took in his surroundings but he remembered. Elvira had come for him. He'd been bleeding, tore off his wing. And she was holding him, screaming.
He rolled his shoulders and felt fine. He supposed once his one remaining wing had retracted, it had taken the wound and the pain.
This must be where the Black Angels were...
Chihaya, praying that his actions had saved Kagetsuya, stood up and noticed the face on his pyjamas. That was cute! So happy. Maybe it was a sign. He knew he couldn't wallow, that what he'd done was right. Even if it still hurt. No. He'd talk to Elvira and then go and visit Taki. He was moving towards the door when it opened up and a nurse smiled at him.
"Finally awake. Shall we go and meet your new friends?" she said, softly.
Oh. He must still be recovering. But why, when he seemed fine already?
"Where's Elvira?" he asked.
Her smile dropped and she told him not to worry about it. He'd make other, REAL, friends here.
no subject
He'd gotten this far, there was no way they'd trace it back to him.
"Paperwork, paperwork."
That was new. It didn't really sound like anything he'd normally have in a dream. He was sick of having to do paperwork every goddamn day.
"--may spend their shift with the children in the Courtyard or relaxing in the Sun Room."
Okay, yeah, that wasn't right. Adachi's eyes flew open, and he looked around. The room was way too...sterile for his liking.
The fuck was this, some special room in the hospital? He knew he'd probably fallen asleep there after trying to mobilize the force to "find" Dojima's daughter, and then reporting to his partner, but seriously. What kind of idiot would have bothered to try to carry a sleeping full-grown man instead of just, oh...waking him up? Or better, letting him stay where he was.
Just another reason to hate Inaba, he supposed.
The detective kept looking around the room. Two beds would make sense if it was a hospital, right? The desks may have been overkill, but the rest of it seemed very bori--
What the hell?
Okay, a strange room, he could buy, but his clothes were different, too. His professional
-ish-looking suit had been replaced by grey sweats and a T-shirt. He knew something fishy when he saw it, but unlike the shit in Inaba about that Midnight Channel, it was more annoying than amusing.The door opened then, and a woman in a nurse's uniform came in. Blonde hair...was she a foreigner? Cute face, though, and a nice surprise. At least she wasn't that whore of a nurse, at least. There were more than enough rumors about her going around that she wouldn't have been worth Adachi's time. The curls in the woman's hair reminded him a bit of that Konishi girl, and he resisted the urge to grin and laugh. That had turned out nicely.
"Oh, good morning, Mr. Brass!" she greeted cheerfully, and Adachi frowned. Stupid bitch had the wrong person, and was way too cheery for his liking. "I wasn't sure if you'd be awake yet or not."
"W-What's going on?" he asked, slipping into the dimwit act that he was so used to. "My name's not...is this still Inaba Municipal?"
"No, this is Landel's Institute." An institution, huh? Madhouse. Adachi worried briefly that maybe someone had caught on, that he'd slipped up, but Namatame was a fucking simpleton, and the detective had taken care of that anonymous letter he'd dropped in the Dojima mailbox. Everyone was so certain now that it was Namatame, that he was in the clear.
no subject
Adachi rolled his eyes. This was getting boring. "Look, I don't have time for this," he said, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. "Can you at least let me make a phone call? Dojima-san's going to flay me alive if I don't--"
"There's no need to get upset, Mr. Brass, so please calm down. No one's going to get mad at you for anything. You're in good hands here. Now, will you please come with me?"
"To the phones?"
"No."
"Then no."
The nurse sighed. "Mr. Brass, don't make me get an orderly."
"My name's not Brass."
She gave him a sympathetic look, and Adachi half-wished that there was some sort of TV around that he could get away with shoving her into. This whole if-I-repeat-it-maybe-he'll-buy-it thing was getting old real fast. He was smarter than that. "Please, Mr. Brass."
"Fine, fine," he grumbled as he got up. He'd be upset if his game ended while he was gone, and he didn't even get to see who'd come out on top. No, that wasn't right; he already had an idea, but if it ended and he wasn't able to drag it out again through some other way, then he'd be upset.
The nurse gave him a terse smile. "Thank you, Mr. Brass. Please come with me."
no subject
Kaworu felt accomplished. He felt satisfied. The idea of being complete had never been anything but a promise of what was to come if he reached his destiny. He remembered how it had been as if there was electricity running through his veins when he looked at Lilith, and yet... Kaworu felt best when he was smiling up at his death and picturing the face behind that mask. This was what it was like to be whole.
Slowly, his lips twitched into a real smile and he took in that deep breath that had escaped him before. As he exhaled, the wholeness he had briefly held dissolved like sand. When his eyes fluttered open, he felt so empty that it ached deep in his chest.
Kaworu couldn't bring himself to move. For a long minute he remained staring at the tiled ceiling trying to imagine the Eva's hand on his skin and the ensuing tightness, as if recalling the exact details of having the air squeezed from his chest would kill him all over again. Yet as much as he tried to focus, he was continuously interrupted by images of blue eyes and flushed cheeks and empty baths.
"... Addison?" A matronly female voice called, but Kaworu didn't move. She sounded concerned, but not surprised. Kaworu could see her moving towards him in his peripheral vision. "I didn't even realize you were awake," she put a hand softly on his shoulder, though there was caution in her movements. "Addison? Are you alright?"
It took a great deal of willpower just to move his eyes to look at her. He knew then that he did not, could not, deny his survival. Her face was familiar, and yet completely new. The face of every Lilim tumbled through his memory until she looked like no one at all. The thought of speaking seemed suddenly daunting, but he could tell she wanted him to do something, so he sat up with her guidance. Her eyebrows drew together in concern, likely because of the blank way he was staring at the ripples caused by his feet under the blankets.
"I feel unwell," he breathed quietly. His head was swimming with questions, and many of them about one particular name. When he tried to think of circumstances that would have led him to being placed here with a new name, it made him shake inside. He didn't noticed that the unsteadiness had bled out into his hands as well. Without his consent, his expression hinted at his distress. He would miss his old name. He would miss hearing Shinji say it.
"You'll feel better after you get some air," the nurse promised him. She seemed to be putting out a great deal of effort.
He smiled at her because he knew he ought to, and added a "Thank you."
M??
He thought he’d be nothing but a red pool on the cold, Artic snow by now.
Where was he? The clothes he had on were foreign, felt strange. Cotton, 100%. Who spent money to comfortably clothe their prisoner? There was some kind of purpose to keeping him there, since he wasn’t dead yet. A prison cell with a door instead of bars, locked. Unable to get it open. How did he get here? It was Manhattan, no doubt, with the use of teleportation… But it was different from the way he was usually transported. For one, he’d never been undressed and re-dressed so quickly, but he was sure it was possible. Very possible.
Silent, Rorschach was on high alert, his brain whirring quickly under the head of red hair. People had already seen his face, the face under his real one, so it could be that he was being kept a hidden, all special. By Veidt? Manhattan? Doubtful. They knew he was going to tell but Veidt had let him go. Manhattan had gone to kill him, but now here he was, alive, if not cleaner than usual. Had he not known any better, his Mask Killer theory would have fit the situation; taking a mask as prisoner before killing him, gloating about it…
Hurm.
There were provisions in the room, drawers of clothes and a closet with shoes, sweaters, and a coat. There were even things, useful things, on the table and under the pillow. Pens, keys, and a journal, blank as if he was supposed to settle into the room and stay there a while. One of the keys, he found, could be used to lock the drawer. He didn’t know what the other one was for.
The flashlight was heavy, a good weapon under the circumstances. Perhaps someone had overlooked it, or didn’t realize its potential. People usually undervalued such things, not needing to know because they lived pampered, fattened lives. Didn’t care to know anything anymore, to do anything with themselves. Weak.
Weighing it in his hands, Rorschach couldn’t help but feel like it had been placed there for a reason, like someone already knew it was there but hadn’t bothered to get rid of it. There were even batteries, after all. It was placed there to be of use to him, or maybe just to tease. Maybe it wouldn’t do any good to think about things yet, but he didn’t see any better options.
The first person to come for him— they had to feed him sometime and there were no food slots on the door— would be his trial run. See if he had a chance to get out on his own, not wait around for Daniel and Miss Juspeczyk like last time, not that he’d been waiting for them then. He needed just one person, at least one, and he’d make it all work from there, even without his face.
The door creaked open and he watched it carefully, body tense and ready.
M??
It was only then he remembered that he had been injured. As a matter of fact, injuries shouldn't even be significant anymore. He was supposed to be dead.
Now, he was definitely awake, as he sat up. He took note of his strange clothing--this wasn't an ordinary hospital, for sure--before swinging his legs over the bed. Examining the room from where he was sitting, he was beginning to think that his clothing wasn't the only thing off about this place. He couldn't see any evidence of equipment, which was very strange, considering he knew he should've been suffering severe wounds. Pressing his fingers to his forehead, he noticed the lack of bandages or blood, despite recalling a nasty cut there. And that couldn't have possibly been his only injury. While he hadn't remained conscious for long, he remembered a searing pain in the Messiah, when he'd been prepared to die with Captain Gladys. There was no way he could've gotten away from that, unharmed.
That then begged the question: How long had he been unconscious? Quite a long time, it seemed. He wondered if Lunamaria or Shinn had come to visit him, or if they even knew he was here. Probably not, if anyone told him about how he'd been manipulated. Suddenly, Rey was beginning to wish he'd never done that. It'd seemed right at the time, but now that he knew he'd been fighting for the wrong thing, he could no longer justify his actions.
Unfortunately, that line of thinking led him to Gil, and he had to restrain himself from bursting into tears. He'd cried enough, he told himself. However, that didn't stop the sadness from bearing down on him, threatening to suffocate him. It tightened around his chest with the guilt, and all he could think was I'm so sorry, so sorry.
How cruel life was, to force him to survive. "All life, no matter how difficult, is worth living" be damned, Rey didn't want to deal with this. What was he supposed to do now, without Gil?
For someone whose ideals would continue to live on, he was rather miserable. Funny how that worked out.
He was about to move off the bed, when the sound of the door opening alerted him to a new presence in the room. A nurse, from the looks of it. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Rey.
"Oh! You're awake." A smile spread across her face as she approached him. Rey tensed; hospital or not, he had no idea where he was or she was. It seemed she noticed this, as she added: "I'm not going to hurt you, Richard."
Richard? Yet another thing that was wrong about this place. "My name is Rey," he replied, coolly. This only served to bring a mildly exasperated look on the nurse's face, before she smiled again. This time, however, her smile had a sadder touch to it.
"You're in Landel's Institute," she said. "I know this might be difficult to take in... but you're in a mental hospital, Richard."
Rey couldn't even think of a proper reply to that, other than that he wasn't crazy, but he didn't think those words would mean anything to her. Instead, he stared, wide-eyed, numerous questions running through his head. Before he could ask any of them, the nurse continued.
"Now that we're all settled--" Settled? He was barely grasping what she was trying to say. "--why don't you come with me? The next shift has just started."
F??
Talana shook herself awake, sitting up in bed. Her first impression was that she must have fallen asleep by Zelnick's bedside once again, and been carried off by some well-meaning but overly chivalrous human male to another private room where she could rest more comfortably...But this room certainly didn't looked like any she'd ever seen, on either the Gaia or Earth Starbases.
Rather than being the grayish-blue of metal bulkheads, and covered with all sorts of complicated monitors and other medical equipment, the walls were a simple, plain white, obviously painted that way. Talana simply couldn't imagine the terminally sensible Commander Hayes allowing such a waste of resources as a roomful of white paint...And, she realized as she looked down at herself with growing shock, the walls weren't the only thing the wrong color either.
"Miss Huff!" A human woman, dressed so completely in white she might have disappeared against the wall if she'd held still long enough, suddenly burst into the room. "I'm so glad to see you awake! I understand you must feel a little disoriented at the moment, but there's nothing you need to worry about. You're at Landel's Institute now; why don't you come with me and meet the other patients?"
Gaping at the stranger, it took Talana a moment to found the words to express her shock and confusion, during which she found herself quite effectively bustled out of bed and halfway to the door.
"Now, wait just a minute!" she burst out, rounding on the strange woman. "Where did you say I was? And what's become of my skin?" She held her hands up before her face, unable to keep from staring at them in shock. Her lovely blue skin was now pink! Why, if anyone looking at her didn't know better, they'd take her for a human!
"Landel's Institute, dear," the stranger said patiently, still gently guiding Talana towards the door. "Please don't be concerned; we're here to help you, as you soon will see."
"Help me with what?" Talana asked with exasperation. But short of resorting to violence, it seemed she'd be getting no more useful information of the woman, who merely smiled and led her out the door.
no subject
"Mr Reed!" called a cheerful female voice. He turned his head and looked at the nurse wearing a Landel's uniform. He sat up slowly and touched his chest, looking down at the gray shirt he wore. The yellow smile face looked back up at him. "Do you know where you are?" This was all horribly familiar. He felt disoriented and groggy.
"Lan...Laaaaandeeel'sss" He said the word slowly, feeling the letters with his tongue. It was a curious sensation. He should have been used to it. He tried to remember yesterday and found a great blackness in his memory. He was remembered being in the hospital after his death but time had passed and he had no idea what had happened to him. It was an uncomfortable situation to be in. He knew there had been a passage of time but not how much. His mind scrambled to pick up the broken pieces of his memories, but he found something. He still couldn't sync up with the world's rotation and had no idea what day it was.
"I'm so glad to hear that Mr. Reed. You've been catatonic for a while. It's good to have you back."
"Catatonic?" he asked, getting a hold of his voice. "Reed. Excuse me, I may be wrong but weren't you calling me Applegate before?" He was sure the name they assigned him was a different one. He was getting confused over what games this place was playing with him.
"Don't be silly," she said cheerfully, grabbing his arm to help him up. "You're name is Reed. And if you hurry up you can spend some time outside, you'd like that wouldn't you?"
He found himself nodding, a human gesture, before he could form words. This room suddenly felt to be suffocating him. "Yes please," he said, getting up on two shaky legs. He allowed her to insist he use a wheelchair as long as it got him outside.
no subject
It appeared that whomever had managed to successfully abduct him had seen fit to take away his clothes as well. Alfred raised one unimpressed eyebrow at their choice of clothing: a gray sweat set, with a large, yellow smiley face happily displaying itself on the front of the top. Interesting. But, in the overall scheme of things, misplaced clothes seemed to be the least of his worries.
The room that he was in was almost too uniform. It was as if it was one room that had been created with a simple cookie cutter design that had made hundreds of other, identical, rooms. Everything was done in sets of two. There were two beds, one against each wall, with a dresser between them, two desks, and what appeared to be two closets – he didn’t move to check them just yet. The only thing in the room that wasn’t part of a matching set was the lack of another person in the second bed and a door that looked as though it was the way out.
Alfred got out of bed, walking around the desk at its foot to slide open the closet door for inspection. Perhaps more suitable clothing would be located in there. A quick survey revealed that the closet held nothing helpful as far as clothing was concerned. He put on the slippers that he’d found on the closet floor, and turned around to face the desk. There was a journal and a radio on top of the desk. Neither appeared to be anything out of the ordinary, so he reached for the desk drawer when he door that he’d noted previously opened to reveal a woman dressed as a nurse, and Alfred pulled his hand back, “I see that you’ve woken up. Come along Mr. Quartermain,” she addressed him. “Why don’t we go meet some of the other patients?”
“Pennyworth, ma’am.” Alfred corrected, moving away from the desk so that he could comply with the nurse’s request. Patients? A frown momentarily creased his brow before his normal, almost bored, expression settled back into place.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s Mr. Pennyworth, ma’am. I can assure you that I have no connection to this ‘Mr. Quartermain’.”
“Well, I have you on my list as ‘Henry Quartermain’, although your confusion is understandable. You’ve only just arrived, after all. You’ll find that many people here have identity issues, Mr. Quartermain, so you’re not alone.” The nurse turned, clearly expecting Alfred to follow her, and started off down the hallway.
He followed the nurse without further comment, his mind piecing the facts together. The conclusion, however, was rather puzzling. Alfred studied the other “patients” being shuffled through the hallways by their own nurses. Most of them appeared to be sane, but that wasn’t much proof either way. Although he was unclear on how he had ended up here. It was possible, if unlikely, that all of these people had been kidnapped.
“Here you are, Mr. Quartermain.”
“Pennyworth, ma’am.” Alfred retorted.
The nurse ignored him, steering the taller man through the hallways, towards a door.
[Solitary Confinement]
Ohhhh. That was blood. Right. Write. Riiiight.
But what to write with? The swarming fuckmind of this industry's ... institute's aggressively moronic staff had been thoughtless enough to provide him with no USEFUL utensils. No forks or knives or pens, any of which would have been helpful, and not even for stabbing. Necessarily.
Okay so he needed something thin with a point he could put his blood on and then write with on this unfolded crane and then he would ... do ... something to it. The something part was later. The now part was ...something. Fuck. Every part was the something part. He needed to think of something. And fast.
Spider ran his hand across his head, trying to finger-comb hair he didn't have. Hair. That would work. Hair. BUT HE DID NOT HAVE ANY HAIR. That firey hellbowel of a defective shower had burned it all off! No hair on his head. No hair in his armpits. No hair on his sweatgushing TAINT. No hair anywhere!
...except his eyebrows. In the midst of its heat-addled madness, the diabolic contraption must have felt some spark - that's it, a spark - of compassion. It left him his eyebrows.
The sedatives were less strong now, but there was still enough in his bloodstream that he didn't really feel the hair he plucked. He dabbed at the inside of his mouth with it, checked his fingers - yes, he was still bleeding - and then, as gingerly as he could, he began his short message.
When he was finished, he crouched over the folded note and painstakingly began the process of folding. He didn't get it right the first time. Not by any means. He'd never been much for this Nipponese folding business. The only way he could piece the crane back together was through a mind-numbing process of trial and error. This was especially difficult, as his mind was already numb.
He did get it right finally, and just in time. No sooner had he completed the final fold, when his food-slit slid open. Spider scurried over to the slit and stuck his face against the opening, speaking as rapidly as he could.
"Hello, yes. I am already in trouble, I understand. I have come to the conclusion, in my perfectly just confinement, that I must atone for my other, undiscovered crimes. To that end, I wish to return this stolen article - taken from a purple-haired girl with truly magnificent bosoms prone to calling herself Sheena and pretending to be a ninja - as soon as possible. Since I do not foresee you letting me out of here to complete this mission, I entrust this item - an expertly crafted paper animal that I simply could not keep my grubby hands off of - to you ON THE CONDITION that you return it to its rightful owner as soon as humanly possible. No no! I have heard that your kind transform into hideous beasts at nightfall. Thus I must ask that you return this to its rightful owner as soon as possible for ANY life-form, human or otherwise."
Finally, Spider ceased talking. For a moment, he was unsure as to whether or not there was even anyone outside to listen to him. Then, slowly, an immaculate hand descended from outside his field of vision, and plucked the crane from his outstretched fingers.
"Alright, Mister Ellis. Umm ...Thank you for your honesty. Please pass your bowl through the slit."
Once that was done, and Spider was alone again, he settled down to do some REAL writing.