DAY 45: Sun Room (Second Shift)

[violent-varmint.livejournal.com]

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]

Comments

[runner-up-robot.livejournal.com]

Frank saw Price stiffen when he answered. He assumed that something had happened and he saw it through the crazy-filter, or he just forgot it and replaced it with a too-real dream and Forte couldn't tell the difference. Either way, it looked like Price was involved in some way. Was he there, did he know what really happened or would he remember some monster too? On second thought, who cared, Frank wasn't a detective.

The next question was a much tougher one. Frank leaned back and closed his eyes. He stared at that face again, and thought about what he'd said to the crazy guy in the cafeteria. "I... doubt it. I can't remember what's real and what isn't." Thinking about ending that man's life, the blood running down his chest... his stomach twisted, and he felt the guilt on him like a weight, like the world was trying to crush him in place. He wanted it to stop, to be someone else that didn't feel like that all the time.

He opened his eyes again and realized he was grimacing. "No, this is probably where I belong."

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

But if this was where Frank belonged, where did that leave him? He'd let reality slip away from him too; hell, even now he was having trouble working out what was what, and he was a damn police officer. There was no way he was going to still be here in a way, no fucking way, and... and...

Aaron watched the expressions run across Frank's face like a late tide lapping at the beach- hesitation, disgust, guilt, maybe even a little fear, too- and felt a strange stab of guilt. Here he was, looking at some kid fucked up enough to have to spend what he figured was the the rest of his life in a mental hospital, and all he could think about was himself. Protect and serve my ass.

"Maybe," he said eventually, purely for the sake of giving an answer. He couldn't look Frank in the eye anymore.

[runner-up-robot.livejournal.com]

Frank was starting to think about what he would do if he got out... if there was anything left for him after this episode...

Blech. Forget it. He was talking to people so he wouldn't have to think about that crap.

He looked back up at Price, losing his serious expression. "So, what about you? Think you're getting better, got things to do when you get out?"

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

"Something like that," Price answered vaguely. Now he couldn't even look at Frank- there too much danger of his expression giving him away of the kid could see his face. When, if, he got out, if he could just get his act together enough to make nice with the nurses and charm the hell out of the doctors, he was getting back on that bastard's trail and this time he was going to do a better job of not getting caught at it. Just so long as he was in control of the situation he wouldn't have anything to worry about.

His eyes flickered briefly back to Frank. "Just... unfinished business." There was a finality to the way that he said the words that indicated that the case (no, the matter, the case was still open) was closed. No arguing.

[runner-up-robot.livejournal.com]

Before Frank could reply, the announcement came on to signal lunch. With little help from a nurse, he got himself back upright again, to shuffle into the cafeteria again. All this back-and-forth was easier in the wheelchair!

He looked back at Price again, "Alright, well... good luck." They were both pretty deep in their own problems, but talking to Price just now, he seemed like an alright guy. And if he needed to get out so he could do whatever (it sounded like he had a score to settle), then more power to him.