damned_institute | Day 46: Sun Room

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Day 46: Sun Room

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

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Lugnut blinked, thrown for a moment, then regrouped and ordered, angrily, "Don't do that again." How, how dare the Maximal make him think...

He shuddered, bloodshot eyes going even redder, and snarled wordlessly at Depth charge as he collapsed onto a couch. He was definitely not relieved that a... a really completely hated enemy like the Maximal was...

The snarl broke off into a soft, mushy, organic sound that Lugnut didn't even realize he'd made until a moment later. Then he pretended he hadn't made it, looking away from the Maximal with overdone disdain, forcing something indistinct about deception being something Decepticons did, not Autobots, and fisted his hands in his lap to keep them from shaking.

Depth Charge simply shrugged off the command- yeah, whatever, I'll maybe think about it. It could only have been more indifferent if he'd yawned and studied his nails at the same time.

You couldn't have faulted his acting skills if you'd tried. Yanking the guy's crankcase wasn't what he'd had in mind, of course- far from it- but the last thing he wanted was for Lugnut to know just how deeply they'd managed to screw with him. After all, they might have been ~~friends~~ not enemies, but-

- what in the galaxy...? Depth Charge's brow contracted into a frown as he realised that Lugnut was shaking like a leaf. For a moment, all he could do was stare. He shifted, then, softly, muttered: "... sorry." And then he blinked, because he definitely hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Didn't mean to mess with you." Or that.

"... I don't need apologies from a Maximal," Lugnut growled, half-sparkedly, then looked back towards DC, willing himself to stop looking weak and quivering (what was he, Starscream?) and looking for something to say.

"... Lord Megatron is gone," he blurted, fists tightening until it hurt, then looked away again.

Of course he didn't. Depth Charge sighed a little, at a loss- that was typical 'con slag, but what about the shaking? Just what was... oh.

He stared. "He's gone? You serious?" Well, if that didn't take the energon cookie. No wonder Lugnut looked like his entire world had fallen apart- as far as he was concerned, it had. "Primus."

"As such, he is unlikely to order me to eliminate you," Lugnut continued, ignoring the question-- of course he was serious-- his tone low and uncertain, unsteady. He continued staring at a spot on the floor, unable to face the Maximal.

"Yeah, that's kind of a giv-" Depth Charge stopped himself right there before he could finish, because, honestly, he didn't trust himself enough. Hold on a nanoklik. Was... was this going where he thought it was? Because if it was, he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

He gave Lugnut a cool, even look, but the Decepticon was busy making eyes at the floor. Instead, he clapped a hand on his shoulder- he needed to see this in the man's face to believe it. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Lugnut looked up, startled by the contact. "It means exactly that," he answered, slowly, then looked away again. "... I am also the ranking Decepticon officer, now," he added, not that it meant much when Scourge had deserted. "I can do anything that would not directly conflict with the interests of my fellow Decepticons."

Still speaking slowly, working it out in his head as he said it, he didn't-quite-offer, "Escaping here should be my foremost concern. And there is no reason why I could not... collaborate with others, to that end..."

He edged a look back up towards Depth Charge. It hadn't been an offer of peace, exactly, so it couldn't exactly be outright rejected or accepted, but it was still put out there, hanging between them.

Ranking Decepticon officer... I can do anything... collaborate with others... Depth Charge let the words wash back over him in waves, random collections of sounds and syllables- it was easier than trying to get his head around just what Lugnut was implying, anyway.

On their first night... suggesting that you'd avoid kicking the opposition's skidplate if you could wasn't extraordinary by any means, not for most people, but coming from Lugnut it had been almost revolutionary. The guy was president of Megatron's fanclub, for Primus' sake, so to have some kind of truce in the first place? Now that had been crazy. Even then he hadn't been sure how much of it he'd swallowed.

And now, over a week later, someone had jacked up the volume on it.

Depth Charge frowned, as though the silence wasn't enough to give away his hesitation. Then, carefully, carefully, he picked his words. "Yeah. I guess there isn't a reason," he answered in his most noncommittal voice, cracking his knuckles idly. "Not like anyone's around to tell you not to." He swallowed, then forced himself to look Lugnut in the eye. "Nothing to stop me, either."

There. He'd said it. And, weirdly enough, he felt a little better for it. Losing your personality core, making deals with 'cons... you're losing your touch, DC. You're losing it big time.

Lugnut let out a shivering breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding-- not... that he was relieved. It was just a breath, that thing this organic body demanded so constantly, and he met the Maximal's gaze almost-steadily.

"... If you have any plans for escaping this place, I will lend my assistance," Lugnut said, quietly earnest.

There. Optic-to-op- ah, eye-to-eye contact. Depth Charge let the tension leave his shoulders, glad to have something solid he could recognise in the Decepticon at last rather than another stealth assault. They could play this one straight.

"Back atcha, big guy," he answered, nodding once and trying to ignore how strange it felt to discuss strategy with Lugnut, of all people. "So. You had any illuminations, or do we need to put our processors together?"

Lugnut could do this. He may have been without a wingmate or a fellow Decepticon or Lord Megatron to guide him, but he had an ally (even if said ally was very nearly an Autobot), and he could do this.

In the familiar tone of reporting to someone, Lugnut answered, "HK-47 has told me he's been working with a pair of humans to explore the basement; they believe the human running this place can be reached, down there, and he has invited me to join them."

Okay, now that was weird. Suddenly Lugnut was talking to him like he was some kind of equal. Which, he realised slowly, was about right, considering they'd just made a pact.

... hnnh. Something still didn't feel right about that. Well, whatever. Just so long as he reminded himself the alliance was with Lugnut while they were here rather than the entire slagging Decepticon army, he'd be okay. "Oh, he can, can he?" Immediately, Depth Charge leaned in, looking intrigued. "Colour me interested. What's the catch?"

"That is what they have been told, and I am willing to risk any potential trickery or games from the slagger, if I have even a faint chance of crushing the life from his filthy organic body," Lugnut declared, though he kept his voice low enough to not attract the nurses' attentions. "... Trickery and games are very likely, though, from what I know of him," he added, rather more subdued at the thought of it.

Just so long as Landel's was the only filthy organic body Lugnut was going to be crushing the life from, Depth Charge certainly wasn't going to object.

"Figures. What would you call all this slag except that?" he said, gesturing loosely around the room with more than just an edge of distaste in his voice. Lugnut didn't exactly seem like the sort to tolerate that sort of thing either- at least they had that in common. "You think four of you will be enough?"

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Day 46: Sun Room

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