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damned_institute2009-09-24 11:20 am
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Entry tags:
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- suzaku,
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- venom
Day 44: Sun Room, Second Shift
[from here]
He really had beat the rush. Suzaku found a chair as close to the corner and as far from the bulletin as he could, and turned it to face the wall before curling up in it. His nurse frowned at him again, but she was still being cooperative, and frankly he didn't care what she had to say in the slightest. He didn't care even if he got sedated. All he cared about was finally having a few moments to himself, to sort out what Euphie's love meant and what the hell Lelouch's problem was.
It felt like he had all the pieces of a puzzle and was just too stupid to figure out how they fit together. What Lelouch had said about Shirley at breakfast and the tone he'd taken with Euphie on the board, Lelouch asking how Suzaku was, Lelouch dying. . . "All we can do is move forward and look out for the ones we care about." Euphie struggling to get out her last words, pain overtaking Suzaku's consciousness while he fought pathetically to carry out Lelouch's order. . . The last couple days, when he'd felt like he was finally figuring this out, seemed so far away now.
There were a couple things that were certain, at least: he hated what Lelouch had done, he always would. But he -- he didn't hate Lelouch, and he hadn't for a while now, and that wasn't going to change. And he didn't have much time, because everyone but Suzaku was terrifyingly mortal. And Lelouch was an idiot, but he still wasn't sure about the how and why of that one yet.
[for the Saucinator]
He really had beat the rush. Suzaku found a chair as close to the corner and as far from the bulletin as he could, and turned it to face the wall before curling up in it. His nurse frowned at him again, but she was still being cooperative, and frankly he didn't care what she had to say in the slightest. He didn't care even if he got sedated. All he cared about was finally having a few moments to himself, to sort out what Euphie's love meant and what the hell Lelouch's problem was.
It felt like he had all the pieces of a puzzle and was just too stupid to figure out how they fit together. What Lelouch had said about Shirley at breakfast and the tone he'd taken with Euphie on the board, Lelouch asking how Suzaku was, Lelouch dying. . . "All we can do is move forward and look out for the ones we care about." Euphie struggling to get out her last words, pain overtaking Suzaku's consciousness while he fought pathetically to carry out Lelouch's order. . . The last couple days, when he'd felt like he was finally figuring this out, seemed so far away now.
There were a couple things that were certain, at least: he hated what Lelouch had done, he always would. But he -- he didn't hate Lelouch, and he hadn't for a while now, and that wasn't going to change. And he didn't have much time, because everyone but Suzaku was terrifyingly mortal. And Lelouch was an idiot, but he still wasn't sure about the how and why of that one yet.
[for the Saucinator]
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"Out of curiosity, what year was it where you were before arriving here?"
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"1938," he answered shortly, wondering where this was going.
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"Marcus and I found the Fountain in 1930. By 1932, there had been a major battle within an East Coast city involving Marcus and his allies versus an invading army of giant automatons. Their success meant the passage of the Citizen's Crime Fighting Act in 1937, officially allowing superheroes to legally arrest criminals." Recluse's tone was completely even, despite the fact that this was not the most pleasant subject for him personally.
"The last date I remember before arriving here was February 27th, 2007. I'd rather not recount everything that happened during the intervening seventy years, for the sake of brevity."
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Still, it would take a lot more than a few anecdotes from people in a mental hospital to convince Indy that the idea was worthy of any credence. He was willing--provisionally--to accept time travel because there was so much evidence in favor of it here; it was the only way to explain what had happened to him. This was much less tangible. And was this guy really suggesting that he and Marcus had become...
"It sounds like Pandora's Box changed you quite a bit." Not that Indy was any closer to accepting that, either. Still, he uncrossed his arms to show that he was taking a stab at less openly skeptical listening. "Go on."
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"The changes were mostly gradual. Over time, we became much, much stronger than any human could ever be. Marcus gained the ability to fly, and eventually to bring down lightning if needed in a fight. The changes I experienced were more physically drastic. My eyes changed to the red they are now, and became increasingly photosensitive and eventually taking on an internal glow, which I could display if it were night time now." He frankly wouldn't want it to happen during the day, he would most assuredly be completely blinded by the light if his eyes became any more sensitive.
"The rest of me turned near-black, and eight large spider limbs grew from along my spine." He'd looked quite monstrous, but that had suited him well.
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"What finds do most archaeologists make?" He shrugged. "A statue or two, a bunch of rocks, an old cup. Very interesting if you're into that sort of thing, but nothing to get worked up over for anyone who isn't a scholar. Nothing like Pandora's Box." Some days that seemed to be one of the few mythical artifacts he hadn't run across yet, Indy reflected. Maybe he should get on it. "Of course I was curious to hear the story."
Here was another full list of dubious claims, although Indy figured at least these would probably be easy enough to test. There were only so many tricks you could pull at Landel's, with the limited resources available. "So what happened?" he asked, gesturing to Richter. Indy noticed a distinct lack of large spider limbs about the man.
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"Most of the alterations were gone the moment I awoke here. My senses are still sharper than a human's, but to a lesser extent than before. Apart from that, I have been left with nothing beyond normal human strength and what I know how to make or steal for myself."
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It was pretty convenient that Richter would have magically lost everything that marked him as out of the ordinary--should've seen that line coming. Surely the guy couldn't be leveling with him, which made Indy all the more irritated about being chided for not launching into a full recitation of his finds. He wondered if there was any way to get to that Marcus guy before Richter talked to him; see how their stories compared.
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I don't care if you believe me didn't make for a very convincing argument, and unsurprisingly, Indy didn't find himself very convinced. Moreover, he didn't trust this guy. But he didn't particularly want to make an enemy of him, either. Indy couldn't deny that there was a chance this crazy multiple-dimension theory was right, and if Richter knew something about how it worked, he might be a useful man to know. Aside from the potential for ridicule (which wasn't one Indy was terribly concerned about, after this conversation), there really wasn't much of a reason to conceal his finds, either. It might not hurt to say something, he decided. As a gesture of goodwill.
"That 'old cup' is more commonly known as the Holy Grail," he said, trying not to sound as grudging about it as he felt.