damned_institute | DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

There was something fishy going on in the Institute today. All over the bulletin board, people were talking about having "woken up", having been "cured"... and it seemed as though ZEX was one of them. Tanaka wouldn't have recognized the note at all if it hadn't been signed - his wording, his handwriting, even his name had changed - and a part of him still wondered if it had been an imposter, trying to pull the wool over the Captain's allies.

But it'd be easy enough to find out the truth. Whoever it was had agreed to meet him, and Tanaka was waiting for him just outside the cafeteria doors, ready to catch him as he came from breakfast. If "Max" was an imposter, then he'd discover the identity of a hidden enemy. And if he was really ZEX...

...well, he'd have a whole new set of things to worry about.

[for a ~~spoiled rich brat~~ brainwashed Admiral]

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It wasn't the best feeling ever to wake up and realize you hadn't been dreaming about being in a nuthouse, thinking you were a demon. It got even worse when Derek woke up enough to remember everything else that he'd done back in Japan. He sat up, rubbing his eyes to try to stop feeling groggy from waking up late as the nurse came in ("Yeah, 'm fine. ...Aw, hell, sorry 'bout trying ta deck ya two days back, I didn' really mean to. Or, I did, but-- Yeah."), getting up and following her down through the halls.

He wasn't all that big on reading, so he asked to go someplace else. So, of course, that meant the place he'd dreamed he'd gone and got his ass kicked by a guy in a weird costume. Great. Why couldn' I just not be crazy when I was asleep at least? Well, he was feeling... sort of better today. He knew Reiko was here, but she'd still been calling herself Renamon... he didn't really want to deal with that right now.

Right now, he had a less dramatic problem: Trying to find somewhere to sit where people wouldn't get freaked out by the tattoos and sharp teeth. Yeah, he did still like how they looked, but damn if it didn't make it hard to talk to anyone at all respectable.

He saw someone he recognized, the only other guy here with facial tattoos. The guy that he'd gotten into a big loud argument with a couple days ago. Well, it was worth a try, at least, and he should at least apologize.

"Hey. Sorry 'bout yellin' at ya before. I wasn' feeling too good right then." Yeah, had a nice case of th' crazies. He looked sheepish and apologetic. Hopefully this guy wasn't big on grudges, or things might get bad again.

Lance's thoughts were inturrupted by a voice that wasn't quite loud, but also pretty damn hard to ignore. Part of it was the heavy Brooklyn accent.

He turned his head and looked up at the owner of the voice: some tattooed punk. Could have been part of a street gang.

And it sounded like this kid recognized him. Eyes narrowed and voice gruff, Lance asked, "Do I know you?"

...Oh, great. Yeah, he'd sort of forgotten that being a psycho killer trying to talk to people in a psych ward might be awkward. "Met two days ago. It didn' really go well, I wasn' thinking straight. Ya know, delusional. It wasn' right a' me, so just wanted ta say sorry." Because, you know, after you'd gone as nuts as he had was a great time to start trying to make up for everything by saying 'sorry' to people.

Huh, sounded like the kid was one of the many who'd recovered today. Actually, Lance couldn't help but think it was kind of weird that so many people were becoming sane again all at once. He was no head shrink, but it was still pretty weird. Though, to give the situation credit, he hadn't been "awake" since he got here, so maybe this happened regularly for all he knew.

"Uh huh," Lance grunted. "Was I goin' by 'Lockdown' when we met?" Maybe he could get some more confirmation about his whole situation. Two people already had the same story, and if a third went with that same story, Lance would be almost certain that it was all true.

"Uh, yeah," Derek ran a hand through his hair, feeling damn awkward right now. "An' I was-- ...Well. Don' really wanna talk 'bout that right now. Things didn' go to well, anyway." Prolly hadn't helped that he'd been acting completely clueless about everything.

Oh, right, being polite and all that stuff. "My name's Derek. Nice ta meetcha... again, or not, whatever." Wow, this was complicated.

There it was. Someone else who said he went by "Lockdown". It was getting a lot harder to deny being crazy now.

Also, the kid was too shy to be part of some street gang. Maybe he was just some wannabe who got the tattoos so he could make others think he was a bad boy. Lance's own tattoos were a present to himself, gotten on the day he turned 35. He ended up picking up a new boyfriend that night, someone who was into tats. They'd dated for about half a year before Lance decided the guy wasn't his type.

Lance sat up. "Relax, kid. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I ain't the one you got in a row with." He wondered if he'd actually be angry with the kid or not if it wasn't for the fact that he remembered nothing. "Name's Lance."

"I ain' scared or anythin', just... don' want things ta get crazy again. Crazy an' me get along bad enough ta mean I'm damn lucky ta be here an' not prison." Sure, he hadn't been all that great to other people when he hadn't been crazy, but things had been kinda nice back then. He had a job and his bike and everything.

He finally sat down, stretching out and yawning, forgetting to cover his mouth to hide the sharp teeth. "As it is anyway, 's gonna take a helluva long time anyway 'fore I can go back to fixing bikes." But at least he wasn't in for... what he did.

Lance raised an eyebrow at Derek. What'd the kid do, punch out a cop? Sure, the kid said he wasn't scared, but Lance could see a hint of something in his eyes. Something that said he was scared of going back to being crazy again.

He also couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock when Derek yawned and showed his filed teeth. Damn, the kid really went all out. "Nice teeth," He leaned back against the couch. "Your a mechanic too, huh?"

"Thanks. Don' actually remember when I got 'em all that well, but yeah." He did actually like them, he just hadn't quite stopped nearly putting holes through his tongue every so often. "Yeah. Only job 've ever had." Best job he could think of, really.

Also, what was with mechanics and weird tattoos? ...And crazy, but he shouldn't be thinking about that.

Lance considered Derek lucky if being a mechanic was his first job. Lance had to go through a few lousy jobs in his 20s and 30s, just so he could make ends meets. He didn't get the body shop until he was 40. "Nice."

He could see the kid being a mechanic more than a street punk, really. The fact that they both also had tattoos and shared the same profession wasn't lost on Lance. Maybe we're long lost brothers, Lance joked to himself.

"Who started the argument a few days ago, you or me?" He figured he might as well get some insight as to what kind of person Lockdown was.

"Yeah. Was a helluva lot better than being on the street." Sure, being a cute lil' homeless kid got him a bit of sympathy (even if that meant tightwads still wouldn't give him any money), but man if there wasn't a whole bunch of creeps out there.

"Uh... Well I thought ya were somethin' like what I thought I was, an' you got pissed off by that an' things didn' get any better from there. Ended up with you sayin' you'd take one 'a my eyes out and me sayin' I'd bite yer nose off if ya tried." Yeah. He was real good at making friends, obviously. ...'cept for that one guy he was pretty sure had gray hair, if he hadn't been hallucinating that too. That bit was nice, but holy hell, some of the stuff that he'd thought'd happened with that guy were really fucked up. Why in the hell had he thought he saw someone melt?

Lance raised both eyebrows for a second. "In other words, we were both complete bastards." Lance could be a bastard too sometimes, and he had threatened people before, but he never really went through with it. Derek made it sound like Lockdown would really go through with that threat. Dear God, what else had Lockdown said and done?

"Uh, yeah. Sorry 'bout that." Well, back to not knowing what to say, which was weird for him. Usually he just either yelled at people to fuck off, or talked their ears off, and nothing in between. Well, whatever. He was feeling like shit, thinking about what he'd done. If he couldn't think of anything to say right now, that wasn't his fault. ...Or it was, but--oh, whatever.

Lance shrugged, "Whatever."

He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling and think some more. He then said idly, "I tell ya', the sooner I get outta here, the better." Just how long had it been? For all he knew, he'd been Lockdown for years. Either way, hopefully Stan had found someone to take care of the shop.

"I don' think they should let me out yet. Not until the shrinks fix whatever's broken, 'cause I don' wanna end up like I was again. I, uh... I lost it really bad. An' I had guns. Didn' end well." He'd been so goddamn stupid. Even when he was seeing things, he'd figured that out. He'd felt really fucking guilty for what he'd done, but whatever'd happened, it probably hadn't helped.

Lance gave Derek an impassive look. If the kid wanted a pity party, he wasn't gonna find it with him. Instead, he just gave the kid a deadpan, "You're that fucked up, huh?"

Lance didn't tend to get sympathetic. It just wasn't in him. Part of being a loner, he guessed. Sure, he had soft spots for a few people, like Stan and whatever lover he had at the time. And James, he guessed. James was a good kid, if a little uptight. If he wasn't already a cop, Lance would have offered him a job with him.

"Yeah. ...Whatever. It happened. Don' really have the right ta bitch about it." Jeez, he was feeling like such a sap today. He didn't want to be like that, cause when that happened to other people, he bitched them out for being idiots. Maybe he could admit he was one too, but it wasn't like he wanted to stay one.

Lance smirked. "Well, what do you know? You and I have somethin' we can agree on." He really didn't feel like listening to the kid bitch all day either. Call him insensitive all you want, he didn't care. He was perfectly willing to admit he wasn't the sensitive type. He had nothing to hide.

"Heh. Fuckin' heartless bastard." He didn't mean it all that much, he just didn't have the best track record of politeness with anyone, especially people he didn't know.

Lance smirked and then laughed. "You're too kind, kid." He was used to insults. Insults just bounced right off of him. Let the kid think he was a 'fuckin' heartless bastard'.

"Yeah. I should work on that. Bet you got tips." That wasn't an insult, that was just talking! Insults were a lot louder and more creative.

Lance's smirk remained. "Heh, didn't take long for you to get over yourself," He mused. So, the kid had gone from mopey little bitch to smart ass. Maybe the kid was slightly bipolar too. Lance grinned at his own internal joke.

Then again, talking to the kid had temporarily made him forget that he was in here for a reason too. Almost made him forget about Lockdown.

"Yeah, 'm just so fuckin' polite, couldn't bear ta be all selfish like that. So, what, we gonna talk about you now?" He got more comfy in his chair, turning sideways to it, letting his legs dangle over one of the arms. "'m all ears." Eyes, really, what with the tattoo.

Lance sardonically said, "Well, ain't you just a little peach?"

He decided to just play along with Derek and indulge him. Kid was actually kind of entertaining and he wanted to see where this went. Might be interesting. "Was raised by a Japanese guy, have had at least four lovers, and own a body shop." Speaking of Dai, whatever happened to the old man? Guy had probably kicked the bucket for all he knew. Lance had chosen to forget about him after moving out.

"Yeah, 'm just such a sweetie." Okay, enough sarcasm for now, time to listen.

He made a sort of weird face sometime during that sentence without quite realizing. Why the hell was he being told how many people Lance'd been with? Anyway, there was an easier topic to pick up on. "Wish I had my own shop. Was still workin' with the guy who took me in."

DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

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