damned_institute | Dayshift 42: Bus 2

Before anyone could come to any decisions for their next move, the room suddenly filled with a thick fog. Faster than he could realize what was happening, it had filled up the entire room and swallowed every single one of his friends. Then there was that undeniable stench of iron, blood and... he last remembered taking a step back and feeling that slippery skid and the realization of what that was. By the time he yelled, he was sitting straight up in his bed like he'd bolted awake. Like it'd been nothing more than a bad dream. ...What the hell just happened?!

"Oh! Good morning!" The nearby voice made him yelp with a half squeak-like noise. Oh, for hell's sake. It was one of those freaking nurses again. She was beaming at him like nothing had happened at all. Before he could so much as ask one question, the hag started blathering real fast about some field trip and buses and getting changed and hurrying up before everyone left without him and... OH MY GOD, WHAT WAS SHE DOING?! She was grabbing at his shirt like she was about to start helping him get dressed (or undressed in this case).

He flailed in a desperate attempt to get away from her and yelled his consent to go along if she would get out and let him change HIMSELF. What was the matter with her?! Thankfully, she left but told him to hurry. Hell if he knew what she'd do if he took too long. So for the sake of not getting freaking stripped, he quickly changed into the clothes she'd left on the bed. Clothes being the ugliest looking white-and-black track pants he'd ever seen and a bright blue sweatshirt with a cute little penguin design on the front. This was some kind of joke, right? ...Not to say the penguin wasn't cute or anything but there was no way, no way, he was wearing something like this in public.

But the nurse had burst right in again, and before Kanji could offer much protest, he was being pulled down the hallways and through the doors of the bus. He'd yelled some things her way, but she totally wasn't listening at all. By the time they stopped, he was standing at the front of the bus with a paper bag and the nurse had run off to cart another poor sap along. Frickin' PERFECT. For the sake of not standing up there like some kind of zoo animal for everyone to stare at, he plopped himself into one of the seats by the front and sighed in complete exasperation.

[Free. No limit.]

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We all have our tics. Godot watched from the edge of his vision as Filly toyed with her sleeve. The repetition was so solid that he could probably set a clock by it, or at least make sure that the seconds were ticking away properly. That was von Whippingberg's tell, just like Godot's was his coffee, and Trite's was his face.

And speaking of expressions, that was a nasty look he was getting. Unfortunately for the filly, Godot only grinned wider in reply to it.

"There's no loss to me either way if you're going to lie, Filly. I already told you I wasn't born yesterday. You're holding out on me." Godot kept his cool even as he made the accusation that he knew would set the lady off. Not that he hadn't faced a woman's temper before. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but Godot didn't fear it, either. "What kind of person leaves out their jewels and hides their trash in a safe? If it was someone who didn't matter, you wouldn't care about dropping the name!"

So just who would this Filly go out of her way to protect? Probably a short list, given her temperament. Trite and Frilly Boy were already out in the open. And von Whippingberg loathed a criminal, so the wicked witch definitely wasn't it. Same went for the Gavins; somehow, from what he'd seen, he doubted the lady would go out of her way to protect Trite.

Which meant it was someone who Godot hadn't seen around just yet: someone from that last influx of patients. Just how many of them had been brought in this round?

"But a man keeps his word, and you did give me a partial answer, right?" Still relaxed in his seat, Godot touched the tip of his index finger to the corner of his glasses. "So I'll tell you that I know there are at least three more people from our world here that you haven't named. And the one you're hiding isn't in their number."

This man was detestable. Everyone else had the sense to cower when she was so obviously displeased with them, but him? Oh, no, never the great Prosecutor Godot. That man would probably stand laughing in the face of the Apocalypse. And then throw a pot of coffee at the Four Horsemen. Crazy fool.

Wait, no. The classification of 'crazy fool' only applied to people who she didn't want to whip into the next century. Godot's little accusation just pushed him right up into the 'once I find my whip, you're going to beg for mercy' category. Glaring daggers at the older man, Franziska almost reached out and smacked him across the face. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that he gave her an answer.

That didn't stop her from grabbing her journal and gripping it so hard the spine creaked though. Where was Phoenix Wright when she needed him?! He should have been here to take the punishment instead of this man! At least she gained useful information from him. Three more people, ones who she didn't know of, excluding her father. "I am not hiding anyone. They are merely have no significance to you."

And they didn't. Godot had no connections to Manfred von Karma as far as Franziska knew. His presence or absence didn't affect this criminal one bit. Forcing herself to set the journal down, Franziska refused to break her gaze away from Godot's. He was just a criminal after all! So why did he still have the power to rile her so badly? Ugh, she wished he'd just stayed in jail. "Well? What is your next question then?"

"Funny. I don't remember appointing you judge of what is and isn't my business." Von Whippingberg presumed a bit too much for Godot's liking, his expression losing its cool confidence in favor of something a bit more stern. "Don't think you can stomp everyone under your hooves until you get your way. Not even your name means anything in this Hell; I'd imagine that's a shock for a von Karma, but even you should be able to get with the program eventually."

Even Godot had made blends he couldn't drink before, and those had hardly been lethal. While the filly might be able to intimidate a few and sucker in some others, there were more than enough people who didn't care about either the law or her defenders to keep a man on his toes. Not unlike the proverbial long-tailed cat in a room of rocking chairs: dare too much, and there could well be an unpleasant surprise aimed for your backside.

Yet for all the flames Godot seemed to fan, there was apparently more Filly Fran thought she could get from him. Not exactly caring how much he tried her patience, the prosecutor considered just what he should ask next, leaving his conversation partner to simmer while he did. Then just when she seemed on the point of boiling over, Godot spoke up again as if there'd never been a delay.

"Just what have you managed to find out about this place? And you can skip the basics; Frills is kind enough to broadcast those every time there's a new batch of patients around."

She'd hit a nerve somehow and Franziska triumphed a bit, if only for a short while. The fact that the man still didn't know that her father was alive and well in the facility was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. She didn't wish to reveal his presence anymore than necessary. After all, she had no guarantee that mentioning him wouldn't gain him more enemies. More than that, however, she was not in the habit of letting information go that she saw had no connection to the case at hand.

And Manfred von Karma had nothing to do with this little farce that Godot had going on. Even if he was trying to rile her up again.

And even if it was working.

She knew her name and her position did her little good here. No one she'd met so far had known about the prestige of being a von Karma, nor did they know the taint on the name. Essentially, she had been handed a clean slate, a chance to start over, but that annoyed her more than merely being here. She was used to the fast service and the recognition, and the pressure. With all of that gone, she was like a ship lost at sea. Gritting her teeth before she said anything she would regret to the man at her side, Franziska turned her face away, willing the driver to go faster.

And it was getting harder and harder not to snap and just hit Godot in the head. The man was being infuriatingly slow in giving her a question so she could bring this back and forth to an end. Just when she was about to turn and demand he ask her something, he did just that.

Frowning as she brought her attention back to Godot, Franziska flicked her journal open with one hand and eyed the notes she'd written down in the past day. The information that Miles Edgeworth (Frills, apparently, in Godotese) was a bare bones edition only. It didn't mention that-- "Of those gathered, there is a heavy concentration of military personnel, or those with combat experience. Supernatural beings, historical figures, the deceased, non-humans - none seem to be able to escape whatever process Martin Landel uses in order to draw his prisoners to him. It is theorized that we are in New Jersey, but there is little supportive evidence." She flipped a page with her thumb and continued. "Information regarding the purpose of this facility is currently inaccessible. Talk of there being a basement full of dangers and a locked third floor is floating around, but useful information seems to be at a minimum. Today's trip appears to be an attempt at placating the patient body."

She snapped the journal closed again and eyed Godot warily. "But you having been here days longer than I have, none of this should be news to you."

Dayshift 42: Bus 2

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