damned_institute | Day 49: Noon

The sheriff would have to wait until later (and wasn't it grating to realize that the only semblance of a police force in this small backwards town was a sheriff). Now, Artemis had an errand to run--one that he'd practically pried himself away from Haku to accomplish.

Artemis still mentally winced whenever he remembered Badou and Haku confronting him in the hallway about his pact with E.S. Now that he was better equipped to analyze the situation in hindsight (and wasn't that always 20/20...), he not only realized that he'd been a complete idiot, but that he'd no doubt scared the life out of both Badou and Haku. He had limited experience with friendship, but he at least postulated that friends didn't simply scare one another and then pretend that they hadn't prevented you doing something terrible and irreversibly insane.

Upon setting out into the town, he hadn't been sure of what he was going to get each of them (or how for that matter). Haku, upon reflection, was terribly difficult to shop for and he didn't want to get Badou something so predictable as cigarettes. Besides. He might have a bit of difficulty obtaining said cigarettes in town, due to the fact that the United States had laws against selling tobacco to minors. And he was, despite his best efforts, still a minor.

Once the rain began to come down, though, Artemis ducked into the bookstore as a last resort at keeping dry and continuing his quest. Perhaps he could find a book of snowscapes for Haku. Badou, however, would be trickier. Books... did not seem to be this 'thing'.

[For Doctor McCrazyFace.]

The weekly Institute field trip to town was likely the only interesting thing to happen in Doyleton, and how potentially interesting it could be. Makiko had learned that last week, after encountering her dear, dear patients in a setting a little moree free than her office, and had enjoyed it quite a bit. Unfortunately, though, the weather had decided not to cooperate and most of the patients had been driven indoors, making her efforts to find specific ones that much more difficult.

Ah, well -- it wasn't as fun without some work, was it?

As she was walking by the bookstore, however, she'd spotted a particular young man who wasn't her specific quarry but...well, if that was who she suspected it was, he'd provide an excellent opportunity. Makiko waited for a moment outside of the store, looking in the window as though trying to decide if it was worth her time before entering. One of the other doctors was already present, but she merely passed by as though she hadn't recognized him and back into the shelves in search of the boy. None of her colleagues were terribly interesting, and she had no interest in speaking to them, especially not right now.

She drifted along the aisle closer to where Artemis stood, lips pursed thoughtfully as she examined the selection of books. Once close enough she reached up to pull one off the shelf, "accidentally" knocking another to the ground just next to the boy. "Ah, I apologize," she said, glancing at him as though she had just realized he was standing there. "I didn't hit you, did I?"

Artemis had been looking at the shelf, wondering if he could find such a specific book. He'd have to find something more general (and, generally, something he wouldn't mind cutting to pieces) for Badou, but he still felt a little pressed considering he was wandering around a bookstore for a very small town. A bookstore with a noticeably limited selection at that.

He was aware that someone was next to him, but he kept on looking at the shelf in front of him, frowning slightly. He heard the book slip off the shelf, but started a little when it hit the floor just next to his foot. He looked up at the woman who was speaking to him.

Artemis had never seen her before, which led him to believe that she was either a civilian or a newer patient. She wasn't in a nurse's uniform, so she wasn't in charge of keeping the patients in line. Unless she was one of the doctors. He thought he'd heard something about them partaking of the trip every once in a while, but he couldn't imagine why most of them would want to. Home seemed like a vastly more entertaining option than Doyleton.

"No, it was close, though," Artemis said, crouching down and retrieving the fallen book. "No harm done." He slid the book back into place on the shelf.

"Are you looking for something in particular?" he asked, sliding what seemed to be a promising book off the shelf and taking a look. "Or simply browsing?"

Which was what he was doing, if he couldn't get the clerk to make a fast trade--two books for his vouchers. And if he couldn't somehow get a more traditional gift for them, he'd have to think of something else.

"Fortunate, then." Makiko offered him a slight smile, though the expression was simply a muscle movement, a false pretense at an emotion that was clearly not visible in her eyes. It lasted but a brief moment before she turned back to the shelves again, idly running a fingertip along the spines of the books as she read the titles, apparently far more interested in them than the boy to whom she was speaking. In truth, though, she was keeping a careful watch on the boy, depending on not only what she could see of him in the periphery but sounds as well. Simple shifts of posture could be so telling, sometimes, just by themselves.

After a pause she added, "It's so difficult to find anything in here that I don't know if I'd be able to find anything specific if I tried." It was all so...disorganized. There was basic sorting by genre, certainly, but otherwise? Would it really hurt them to sort the books and perhaps put them in some kind of order? And this the only bookstore in town, which made things so irritatingly difficult for her. Makiko frowned at one of the books wedged tightly into the shelf and added, almost as an afterthought, "Was there something you were looking for? Or simply browsing? I didn't think patients had spending money."

So. Not a patient, then. Most likely. Word choices were very important, and the fact that this woman identified patients as an outsider group either meant she was a doctor or a civilian. Or she hadn't yet come to grips with the fact that she was a part of the patient populace. But she was also complaining that she wouldn't be able to find anything, even if she wanted to. Which led him to believe that she might actually be intending to buy something. So really, he only had a hunch now.

"A book for a friend of mine. Well, a book each for two friends. I'm thinking something with snow or nature photography--he loves snow. And for the other..."

Something thick. With a hardback cover. Yes, that would work perfectly.

"Perhaps a self-help book. He's addicted to cigarettes. I don't have any money, though I've heard that some shops will accept trades for labor or vouchers. So I'm going to try my luck," he said with a small shrug and a smile. "The worst that could happen is being turned down."

Two friends. One who loved snow, and one addicted to cigarettes. Makiko considered the evidence of all senses, including the one not quite so tangible, and concluded that she'd been correct: this particular rabbit could potentially serve as bait for the real prey. Now she had but to make use of him.

She turned back toward Artemis to regard him thoughtfully. "It's kind of you to think about your friends," she observed, with a detached, clinical sort of interest. "Especially trying to help them to get better. Positive peer reinforcement can be an important part of recovery.

"I think that perhaps I can help you there." Makiko glanced in the direction of the employees manning the counter, then back again. "I doubt they'd be in a mood to cooperate today, not with Institute patients. But if you can find a likely book or two, I imagine I could cover that. Far be it from me to deny patients a little happiness." Not if it served her purposes, at least. It simply didn't normally do so.

The way she spoke indicated she was a doctor. 'Recovery', 'patients', and 'positive peer reinforcement' seemed to be the key words that led to this conclusion for Artemis. He didn't know of a civilian who would speak in such a way. Especially if the town seemed to be slightly cold towards the patient populace today. Now that he looked at it, the employees did seem a little... edgy. They were watching the patients in the store as though they wished they weren't there...

Which would indicate that she wasn't a civilian, since she was speaking to Artemis. She must have been a doctor. Which meant Artemis had to be on his guard. But far be it from him to not take an offer that would ultimately benefit him. He had no money, and working with glaring cashiers wasn't going to be possible, he suspected.

"Would you?" Artemis asked with a smile. "That would be so helpful. They've been helping with my recovery quite a bit as of late, and I was looking forward to surprising them. Once I leave, I could always repay you."

By ridding her of her position under a crazed lunatic claiming to be a doctor. That sounded like a fair trade-off. She could thank Artemis later, if they were even in the same dimension. Doubtful.

He looked back over his shoulder, spotting a tall, thinner book that looked to be a photography book. Upon a quick perusal, it appeared to have some snowscapes, but more mountain-based photography. Artemis decided that since this was not a specialty shop, it would do. At least now he would be able to see if it really was the thought that counted.

"I'm Sean, by the way. Sean Malloy." He wasn't about to use his real name in front of a doctor. Not when it might dissuade her from paying for the books, and not now that he knew she was a staff member. Also he was supposed to be on the road to recovery, not still 'delusional'. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

It was an act on both their parts, likely, an impromptu scene in which both parties pretended to be something they weren't. Makiko presented a facade of actually caring about the dregs of humanity who paraded through her office and currently wandered the streets of Doyleton, while the boy acted like a patient on his way to recovery who was grateful for the assistance of a kindly doctor. In a game such as this, though, she was rather more experienced and had no doubt about her ability to win.

The question was, however, if Badou had said anything to his young friend about his sessions with his therapist. It seemed rather likely to her, in which case she should be rather cautious lest she scare the boy off before he'd been useful to her. She gave another of those brief, false smiles in response to the introduction and replied, "I'm Dr. Tanaka. It's good to meet you, Sean."

She glanced toward the book he'd selected, then nodded toward the shelves for the self-help section. "I'd imagine the other book you needed would be over there."

Doctor Tanaka. Artemis couldn't remember seeing a 'Tanaka' on his various trips to the doctors' offices, but the staff was always in such a state of flux it was hard to tell if the doctor was lying to him. Though he honestly couldn't think of a reason for a doctor to lie to him. They all clearly had an advantage over every single patient, so all pretense should have been gone.

Shouldn't it?

"Ah, yes it should be," he said, moving over to the shelf and scanning it for a suitable base. He finally caught sight of something that looked like it had been published back in the seventies. Wrinkling his nose a little, Artemis turned back to Doctor Tanaka.

"I think these two will do just fine," he said.

The book the boy selected looked rather...outdated, and of somewhat dubious usefulness, which made Makiko wonder if he really intended it to be helpful to his cigarette-addicted friend. It was no concern of hers, though; she wasn't nearly as interested in self-help books as she was simply seeing the man again under the circumstances of her choice, so she merely nodded and accompanied the boy over to the counter to pay for his selections. "I do hope that these are as good for your friends as you thought," she said as she turned back to him again. "It's a very thoughtful gesture you're making."

And now hopefully he'd go deliver the presents. Or at least one of them. Makiko glanced toward the store window at the foul weather outside and shook her head in apparent concern. "Although perhaps I should hold onto those for you for a bit. I wouldn't want them to be damaged in the rain."

Artemis balked a little, withdrawing the hand he'd extended to take the books from the doctor. He turned around and took a look outside. The rain was picking up a little, he had to admit. Though if he delayed for very long, Badou would begin to worry and come looking for him in the rain. He looked back at the doctor, smiling a little.

"I'm going to give one of these to someone I'm seeing soon. It should be fine. I'll tuck them in my jacket." He smiled sheepishly. "If I take too long, he's going to come looking for me, and I'd rather not worry him."

Hand them over and we'll go our separate ways, Artemis thought. Honestly he was nervous that the doctor would ask his nurse why he needed such a book and confiscate it. But he couldn't seem too ungrateful or in a hurry to leave the doctor behind, otherwise his efforts sweet-talking the doctor would be wasted.

Ah, he didn't like that. As expected. "Perhaps your friends are patients of mine," Makiko suggested, absently tapping a fingertip against the cover of the top book. "I could keep the books and bring them with me when I come in next week. That way they'd stay unharmed, wouldn't they?"

She allowed that thought to settle for a moment, then shook her head once and began to tuck the books inside her coat. "No, that would take far too long. If you're going to meet one of the recipients, then I can just bring the books with me. They'll stay dry, and I can meet the friend you care about so much." Makiko offered a smile that almost looked real and gestured toward the door. "That should work, shouldn't it."

Perhaps your friends are patients of mine.

They'll stay dry, and I can meet the friend you care about so much.

She wasn't Haku's doctor, Artemis knew that much. And he only had a name for Badou's. A female, Japanese name. ...and this doctor happened to be both female and Japanese. And, from what he remembered of Badou's description of her, violent and insane and most likely aware that he was an addict. And given what Disraeli seemed to know about Artemis' interactions with other patients, he would bet anything that she also knew that Artemis and Badou were close. The way she had phrased it, 'the friend you care about so much' stuck out to him. He'd mentioned that a friend was helping in his recovery, which was true, but he hadn't gone on about how much Haku and Badou meant to him. She must know.

And she'd seen him walk into this bookshop and had followed him for that exact reason. Hadn't she mentioned that given the meager selection and poor organization, she wouldn't be able to find anything she needed? Certainly that could have been predicted moments after she walked in, and she hadn't simply walked out. Artemis had been her target all along, hadn't he?

He watched the books disappear into her coat, mind suddenly fitting things into place. He shouldn't have picked something so specific, so ironic. It had damned him. Despite the oversized, heavy clothing he was wearing, Artemis suddenly felt very cold.

She was insisting on coming with him because she knew he would lead her right to Badou. But why? It was broad daylight (relatively speaking), and Artemis was surrounded by fellow patients. She couldn't possibly believe that she could get away with attacking him now, could she?

As it stood, Artemis was completely in checkmate. He had been from the moment he mentioned going to see his friend who was addicted to cigarettes. Perhaps she wouldn't have followed him if he hadn't said he was going to see Badou, but now even if he tried to run, lead her astray, feign that Badou must have forgotten their meeting, he wouldn't get away. And Badou would only come looking for him, because Artemis Fowl never missed an appointment. So he could either delay the inevitable and possibly compromise his safety, or hope that she didn't intend to do anything to him as they walked to meet Badou. After a long thought process, pondering out each possible outcome that didn't involve Kisugi seeing Badou, Artemis looked up at her, to the door she was essentially pushing him towards at figurative knifepoint, then back up to her. His eyes were narrow, and the child act was completely gone.

"Well, it seems you aren't going to let me out of here by myself no matter what I say, is that right?"

Edited 2010-04-29 01:17 (UTC)

It was always so entertaining, the point where the pieces fell into place and realization hit. The boy was a little quicker than she'd expected; apparently his file hadn't lied about his mental capabilities. But that only made it all the more amusing to toy with him. Right here, right now, this wasn't the ideal situation. Too many people around -- too many curious eyes, and she still had to maintain the ordinary and harmless facade for the time being.

"Now, now, Artemis." All the pretense at warmth faded from her smile as Makiko reached out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder in what seemed almost a friendly gesture, nudging him toward the door. "There's no need to be so paranoid. We're just going to go for a little walk and deliver these books that you so kindly picked out." She paused a moment, then added with a hint of a chuckle, "Or one of them, at least. I'm not sure the other recipient will need his."

Little did McCoy know that he had picked perhaps one of the worst potential shelters in the immediate area, at least as far as McCoy was concerned.

Venkman moved away from the store window as he saw Ingram approaching, his expression somewhere between preemptive annoyance and amusement. I'm betting that was Ingram's little crew of space cadets, he thought, wandering back toward one of the bookshelves. Kinda cute. Like a secret club or something. Only it's "No Sane People Allowed" instead of "No Girls."

He had known about the field trip, of course - had even chosen the Bookworm as a good place to camp out indoors and watch the crazies pile out of the buses like school kids. Why? Because Venkman was curious. He didn't get much opportunity to watch any of the patients for extended periods of time outside of scheduled appointments, and that annoyed him. He may not have been the best scientist, but he did know when forces were working against him to make his job harder. So, like any good lazy person, he was willing to put in a little extra effort every so now and again if it meant saving himself from more work in the long run.

Unfortunately, where Venkman had been hoping to watch or run into one of his less aggravating patients such as Jimmy, Hal, or Hunk/"Frank," luck had turned against him. Instead, he got the good Dr. Ingram. Oh, fabulous. It's like Christmas and my birthday. And someone took a big shit in my presents. On the plus side, at least he had probably gotten a look at whoever Ingram considered his "Captain" (most likely the guy with the apple that everyone else had been facing, from the looks of things), and he had confirmed that Aidan was a part of their same group. That was something, right?

Now all that was left for the moment was to wait for the door to open behind him. He looked at the shelf in front of him, hunting for a good book to pretend to be interested in. Hmm, how appropriate, he thought, pulling down a novel entitled The Secret Society. He was perusing some random pages in the middle of the book when Ingram entered.

The door was just clicking shut when McCoy got a good look at the first patron. Venkman looked like he was browsing, but McCoy highly doubted the other doctor was here just for pleasure. Showing up in town when a field trip was scheduled? He suspected Venkman was here as a chaperone right alongside the nurses and orderlies, and seeing how that attitude of his was, reluctantly.

He promptly considered going back out in the rain and finding somewhere else as shelter. The weather might be as hospitable as Spock in one of his moods, but all the same, the doctor was finding it refreshing to get out of that building. It was also a chance to find out more about this planet.

None of that included Doctor Venkman in the mix or more of his work ethic or bedside manner. McCoy had come out of that session feeling more unbalanced than when he'd entered it, something he was absolutely sure was the opposite of what therapy was meant for, and he wasn't too eager for a repeat so soon. Doctor Venkman was an acidic, impatient, cocky, disorganized and arrogant excuse for a doctor.

The temptation lasted less than a few seconds. McCoy squared his shoulders. The room itself was pleasantly warm, he wasn't about to go catching a cold because of Venkman, and he was damned if he was going to let this doctor run him out. Stubbornly, he moved away from the door, continuing into the store and past Venkman. If he was lucky, he could check out the rest of the building without Venkman noticing him (doubtful) or, at the very least, he chose to ignore him instead.

Venkman struck him as lazy and disorganized, more concerned with his own comfort than that of the patients. Obviously they'd butted heads over how to treat patients and his case (or lack of it) earlier, and it had tried Venkman's patience. He couldn't see the man willingly putting himself through more of it outside of mandatory therapy session.

Edited 2010-04-23 08:15 (UTC)

Ohh, someone's in a Mr. Stompy-Boots mood today, Venkman thought as Ingram strode purposefully past him. What, did the man think he wouldn't be noticed if he just walked fast enough? He was tempted to let the man continue to think just that; it would save him a possibly painful conversation. Curiosity of the cat-killing variety, however, got the better of him. He wanted to see how the guy acted outside of a forced therapy session.

"What a beautiful day we're having," he commented loudly, and in Ingram's direction, though he didn't take his eyes off the book in front of him. "Can see why Landel brought all the kiddies out here. The man's got a talent for showing people a good time, huh?"

McCoy stopped, hand on the railing. He rolled his eye skyward, prayed he'd have the patience to deal with Venkman for just a few minutes and turned.

So that's how Venkman was going to be. He'd been expecting too much to get through peaceably. Venkman might be lazy, but he seemed to enjoy pushing buttons even more, even if it meant making an additional effort or getting annoyed himself.

"I wouldn't go using 'good time' and Landel in the same sentence, doctor," he grumbled. Venkman had his back to him, nose in a book that McCoy didn't really think he was reading. "I didn't take you for the type to make house calls yourself."

Maybe he was trying to look occupied to discourage patients from approaching him.

"What, a man can't stop by the quaint local bookshop and make small talk about the weather on his off day?" Venkman asked, this time actually looking back over his shoulder and raising a semi-amused eyebrow. "Nah, no house call here. I don't do house calls. Not anymore, anyway," he clarified with a somewhat heavier sigh than he'd intended.

Venkman had never in his life made the kind of "house calls" Ingram was probably referring to, of course. The kind he remembered were distinctly slimier in nature, and offered a lot more glory back in the day - back before all those lawsuits came down on his head. True, he couldn't exactly blame New York for being ungrateful. It was, well, New York; New York was a tough town. That didn't mean that Venkman couldn't still be bitter, though. It was because of lousy, short-sighted, greedy ingrates that he had to put up with this job and this crummy small town now, and damn it, he was going to be bitter towards them all he wanted. So there.

In any case, Ingram looked like he wasn't much more keen to talk than Venkman had been to initiate the conversation. That strongly tempted Venkman to just end things right there and let the wannabe space doctor go on his way. In a town this size, he could probably find one of his other patients easily. The only thing that kept him hooked into the conversation was, frankly, his complete agreement with Ingram's statement on Landel. "Anyway, yeah, he's a real peach, that Landel," he commented, his words dripping with sarcasm as he turned back to his book. "Such an impeccably-run Institute he's got. Erratic therapy schedules, a crammed and truncated work week, shuffling of patients like nobody's business—" at least from what Venkman had been told by his colleagues "—and never talking to his employees in person - genius. Why did no one nail this kinda infrastructure years ago? That kid's goin' places, I'm telling you."

McCoy studied him for a moment than took a step back down the stairs. The doctor settled for leaning against the banister. It was odd, but Venkman was almost tolerable outside the office. Strange that it had to take a change of setting for him to act with any sort of decency.

A man like Venkman probably didn't spend his time in the same town as a patient field trip, he thought, but there wasn't any missing that sarcasm either. McCoy decided not to give him any ammunition. What was interesting was the fact that he'd apparently used to make house calls before, but judging from the way he'd said it, he hadn't stopped voluntarily.

"I take it you ticked off the wrong person," McCoy hazarded. Seeing how Venkman operated, that couldn't be too hard. What was the story behind it anyhow? Was it Landel's habit to take in disgraced doctors? Venkman looked physically capable enough to act as a doctor, professionally speaking another matter entirely, but it couldn't be some disability. At least, none that he could see immediately.

Venkman caught his interest the moment he continued. There was a lot you could find out from a disgruntled employee, and a disgruntled doctor working in intolerable conditions on top of that, and Venkman appeared as disgruntled as they came. While it wasn't physically investigating the town, it was finding out more about the institute and how it was run, from point of view outside of the patient population.

"Landel or his staff don't strike me as concerned with maintaining a degree of professionalism," he said. Why was Venkman still working here? He could leave, couldn't he? "So you got hired here and you've never even seen your employer. That doesn't strike you as odd?"

Edited 2010-04-25 07:36 (UTC)

Venkman shrugged. "I talked to him during the interview. Seemed like a decent enough guy. Little eccentric, but decent. Didn't really hit me until the first day of work that he and his building were a bit more eccentric than I figured," he answered, flipping over a page in the book idly without reading it. He let out a short chuckle at that. "I know what you're thinkin'. 'You should've guessed somethin' was up when you got the job,' huh?" he asked only semi-sarcastically. The side of his mouth quirked up cheekily, then he added, "Well stop it. That's rude, man. Jesus. You don't have anything nice to say, then..."

On that note, he finally turned back to face the other doctor. "Anyway, yeah, you could say I ticked off the wrong person. Wrong people, more like it. Pretty much all the greedy assholes in New York. They tend to take a favor like they take a crap," he answered to Ingram's previous question. He wasn't really sure yet why he was being so candid, but it did feel good to get some of this stuff off his chest. Living in a tiny, dead-end town with no one he knew didn't give him much of an opportunity to bitch about what had happened in the last year, so he supposed it was natural that it had been building up. Ingram was just a convenient receptacle for catching the leakage at the moment.

McCoy had just been thinking something along those lines uncharitably, mostly because how did you get hired to a place like this facility and not realize something was wrong. And how did that explain why he was still here if he didn't like it?

Maybe he didn't have anywhere to go.

"I'd ask you why you've done nothing to report the place or leave," McCoy began. "But it sounds like your experience in New York gave you reason enough to reconsider."

That didn't necessarily make it right, he should still do everything in his power to help the patients, expose what was going on, but it did give a reason why Venkman might be reluctant to. That was assuming there was a shred of moral decency in him. McCoy couldn't believe anyone would be that heartless, worn out or disgruntled enough to completely disregard the welfare of other living beings, especially those in their care like a patient.

If Venkman had be burned that badly by an entire city for a beneficial service (whatever it was. Did it have to do with those newspaper clippings he had wallpapered up like trophies_, then no doubt he'd feel just as wary about doing something drastic like taking action against Landel.

So it looked like Venkman had talked to him a grand total of once, and Landel had either put on enough of a show to fool an applicant, or that's how he really was, 'little eccentric but decent'. The doctor found it hard to believe it was that simple. 'Decent enough guys' didn't practice malpractice on such a large scale or treat their patients with such lack of regard.

So Venkman found something strange about the facility. It was an offhand remark but it caught McCoy's attention. He'd been assuming that all the staff were all either playing conveniently blind and deaf, or they really were being blocked somehow from seeing the truth. How else did it explain overlooking all the fresh injuries the patients showed up, like ZEX's. You could explain away that maybe a patient did it to themselves, but you couldn't explain a way a case like the admiral's. It was impossible for the man to have done that to himself with medical precision and survive the procedure.

It sounded like something that Spock and Jim would want to know about. The doctor was certainly curious what it looked like from the other side. It would be best to start out light, try to keep it casual and easy. Venkman had opened up, and he wasn't arguing him doctor to doctor at every turn or treating him like a patient that didn't know better. At least not yet.

"So you've noticed something odd about the building too," McCoy said.

Edited 2010-04-26 20:34 (UTC)

[Backthread? :D]

Venkman gave Ingram an "understatement of the year" look when he commented on his experiences in New York. The other man looked like he was trying to choose his words very carefully, studying Venkman with a look similar to that of a scientist checking out a specimen from every possible angle, or a detective combing for clues. Clearly this was turning into fuel for Ingram's paranoid conspiracy theory; every word Venkman said, every expression, every twitch of his body was being incorporated into Ingram's mental notebook to construct evidence and/or a case study, most likely. He was tempted to casually flip Ingram the bird while he was staring so damn much, just to see if that would go into the notes under "Behavioral Quirks in Landel's Staff" or something.

Venkman rolled his eyes a little when asked about the building. "Yeah, I noticed something: one o' the sinks in the men's room is clogged. Clearly it's hiding some horrific secret from beyond space and time. That'll be a bitch for the janitors to get out for sure."

He fixed Ingram with a straight look, leaning against the bookcase with arms folded. "I just meant the Institute isn't run maybe as up to par as it should be, smart guy. What, were you hoping I'd say I've seen a 'Hollow' stalking around the break room or something?" he asked, wondering if the creature/spirit John had mentioned during his session was talked about among the other patients or not. "I've dealt with 'odd,' man. That's what I was doing for a living in New York for Christ's sake. And a shitty hospital with a head doctor who doubles as a hermit is weird, but it ain't even close to what I've seen." When was the last time you saved the world from a killer marshmallow god and its little dogs too?

"There's eccentric and then there's negligence, intentional malpractice," McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not what I'm talking about, doctor. I'm talking about the abuses I reported and the fact that you've got patients in here that don't actually need treatment, and paperwork that's mismatched to patients." And that was just the ones McCoy knew about. There was a good chance that most of the other patients were pulled in just as abruptly, the paperwork a sham.

He doubted that the eccentricities of the building and Landel's administration methods were as harmless as a clogged sink. There was plenty strange going on here, strange and dangerous and unethical; enough to send up a wave of red flags, enough that even a man as jaded as Venkman should have noticed it.

Maybe it'd been too much to hope for one of the staff to have seen anything strange. Venkman might be telling the truth he believed he was seeing. He didn't sound at all like he was lying, even when he made that claim about his previous employment.

Those news clippings came to mind again, ones that boasted of ghosts, the paranormal. Venkman was willing to believe in ghosts, which wasn't usual for a doctor. In all his years, he'd never seen ghosts as scientifically proven to exist. There were explanations for what people thought they saw, such as hallucinations, chemical induced reactions, or even sentient lifeforms that didn't take a corporeal form, like a Medusan. But an actual ghost?

That was the thing of old wives' tales, stories told around a camp fire.

"I don't even know what a 'Hollow' is. What is that, one of your ghosts?" McCoy said, arching an eyebrow. Venkman was going back on that approach, sarcasm as a defense mechanism. He didn't have a clue what a Hollow was, not unless Venkman was going around giving names to his ghosts. It was damned strange that Venkman was perfectly willing to believe in the existence of ghosts and not that there might be something strange going on right under his nose.

Edited 2010-04-28 12:47 (UTC)

Venkman rubbed his temples briefly. He was not going to get into this argument again, not on his day off and not when he had already agreed to look into Ingram's friend's file at some point. If Ingram wanted to have this talk again, it was going to have to wait until Venkman was getting paid to have it.

He let the man go on to asking about ghosts, which was something he felt more up to talking about. "That's fine. I don't know what one is either. It's something one of my other patients brought up," he explained, waving his hand idly. "And they're not 'my' ghosts." If anything, they were more Ray or Egon's, from the way they fawned over any ectoplasmic snotballs they could get their hands on. "Trust me, I don't believe a whole lot without hard proof. I barely believe guys when they tell me there's a good deli down the street. I don't believe a good deal of stuff in my own major field of study," he continued, referring to his parapsychology degree. "Like I said last session, though, it's kind of hard not to believe in something that laughs in your face and vomits all over your shoes before you're able to trap it."

How did you get into into a field if you didn't believe a damn thing? Unless you were looking to overturn every single thing and shoot it down, but that was almost as dangerous as blind faith, made you especially susceptible to twisting results to fit that agenda if you weren't careful. Venkman sounded like he took being a skeptic to an entirely new level.

McCoy still wasn't even sure he could believe in ghosts, even after Venkman's answer. He'd still never seen a single sign that they existed and they'd wandered all around the galaxy. He was right on that account, that there was still nothing like having hard proof.

"Fair enough," McCoy conceded, somewhat doubtfully. McCoy didn't have that proof, just Venkman's words and news clippings, and the fact that Venkman was a hard man to pin down.

Then it struck him, that Venkman had mentioned trapping something and ghosts in the same sentence. McCoy looked dubious.

"If I'm hearing you correctly, are you telling me that you ran around New York trapping ghosts?" And Venkman thought he was crazy. Chasing after something like ghosts and considering that a full time job on top of it?

Edited 2010-04-29 07:24 (UTC)

Far from setting out to shoot things down at every turn, Venkman had really only gone into parapsychology because that's where the money had been. Basically free grant money to just do whatever the hell kind of research he wanted and maybe score some action with his more attractive lady volunteers on the side? Hello. When the money had dried up there, it only made sense to take the skills and tech that he, Ray and Egon already had and put them toward making money in some other way. In that vein, he told Ingram, "Hey, whatever pays the bills, right?" He paused, shrugged, then added, "Getting your face on the cover of TIME Magazine doesn't hurt much either." You call me when your space-trekking or whatever it is gets that kinda recognition.

He went on: "But yeah. Everything from suspicious mists to full-body apparitions. Lots of 'em were nasty little buggers too. You don't know satisfaction 'til you throw a hot stream o' protons at some skull-faced son of a bitch and drag it down into a trap." Christ, he was starting to sound like Ray. True, the actual ghostbusting work had been exciting sometimes, but it had always been Ray who got into it the most. Spending so much time away from the job was making even Venkman start to really miss it, though, giant marshmallow men or no giant marshmallow men. How did that happen, he wondered.

That answer was just as jarring as his attitude on how to treat a patient.

Just another reason never to get involved with time travel, McCoy thought. Time travel was one of those things that he'd rather avoid, if he could help it. Something in him told him it wasn't going to be as simple as wishing it off. The Enterprise and her crew had a penchant for running into the improbable and the impossible. More time travel wasn't out of the question, be it from a spatial anomaly, an accident, or an encounter with an alien being. It was just going to be part of the job. McCoy didn't mind the thought of observing it from afar. There was plenty interesting about it, enough to pique a scientist's curiosity. It was mingling directly with those from the past (or future: who knew, the ship could just easily get flung forward one day), complete with the culture shock and the risk of altering something vital and all sorts of temporal paradoxes that he didn't like. Time travel really was best left alone.

In this day and age, it was rare to run into someone within the Federation who did things solely for their own benefit. Humanity had done away with the pursuit of material wealth for purely selfish, personal gain long ago. Money took a backseat. What replaced it was a drive to seek out new ways to better themselves and humanity.

That wasn't to say all humans were like that. McCoy could recall a few who had displayed that materialistic drive. Mudd was the man who'd always come to the doctor's mind, especially after the incident with those women and the Venus drug. A con artist if he'd ever saw one, complete with that snake oil charm and a crocodile's smile. There would always be scattered exceptions, even if Humanity, as a whole, just wasn't like that anymore.

Venkman may or may not be human, but he was cheerfully touting the old human attitude about money and recognition. McCoy found himself frowning disapprovingly at him. At least with a skeptic there was some honest curiosity in there.

"It's not always about money or recognition," McCoy told him. All that talk of paying the bills and appearing on TIME magazine. It was like learning another language. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to do something just for the sake of bettering yourself or those around you."

He just couldn't picture Venkman running around after ghosts, trapping them. Not any more than he could imagine just doing a job for the money. And even getting some schoolboy thrill out of chasing them down. Maybe he could imagine finding something interesting about studying them, proving the existence of ghosts and how a person could continue to exist after a biological death, but it didn't sound at all like that was the angle Venkman was coming from.

There were plenty of things McCoy wanted to say, starting with 'Are you crazy?'. But Venkman was in a talkative mood, even moderately cooperative. Who knew how long that would last?

The doctor settled on the safest approach, the scientific one. "I don't suppose you've retained one of them."

Edited 2010-05-01 11:55 (UTC)

Sakura stomped into the bookstore looking like a drowned pink rat. Her notes, luckily, were just a bit damp, but her coat was a bust, and now sat around her waist instead of over her shoulders like it ought to. Of all the places to dry off, this was probably the best choice. Her fight with Raphael left her annoyed, bruised, and worst of all, unsatisfied. They always seemed to break up the fights before she could get that last kick or punch that was so well-deserved in.

Though she probably looked a mess, she still held interest in the place she'd chosen for refuge. The asylum might not have a wide selection of books, but maybe this would be at least a little better. Maybe something besides just fiction, something that would be helpful.

There were a few other patients milling around, some she recognized, some she didn't. She took note of them briefly, but focused on the books, attempting to finger-brush her wet, tangled hair.

[Free, no limits!]

Claude hadn't wasted much time outside once it began to actually rain, but by the time he managed to duck into the bookstore, his raincoat was dripping with water. While he actually liked the rain, cold rain wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing to get caught under. His teeth chattered as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up at the front of the store to let it dry off. Better to let it sit than risk getting the books wet, right?

This wasn't his first time in here, though he admittedly hadn't stayed for long. Still, there was something kinda cozy about drying off inside a bookstore while it rained outside, and Claude began to make his way down one of the narrow aisles with a small smile. Maybe he'd run into Leon here. Actually, getting a chance to talk to the boy would make him feel better, since it was possible they'd need a plan in case things got dangerous tonight.

So far there wasn't much sign of the Fellpool, though, and the more he navigated the cramped spaces between shelves, the more he was beginning to remember why he hadn't stuck around too long before. Just as he was turning down a new aisle, he abruptly bumped into a pink-haired girl.

Startled, he stumbled back a little and gave her an apologetic look. "S-sorry about that."

She hadn't skimmed more than a couple shelves before some guy bumped right smack into her. She'd have dodged, but she supposed she shouldn't have assumed that no one would actually be that clumsy. The jerky movement sent papers spilling out of her journal and she cursed under her breath as she bent to pick them up.

"If you're sorry, don't just stand there. Help me with these, will ya?" she huffed, not bothering to look up from the mess. Most of her journal notes she wanted to stay far, far away from prying nurse's eyes. And yet, despite being a kunoichi, they were spread over the floor. Great.

Normally Claude wouldn't have considered himself clumsy, but between having little room to move through the aisles, and being preoccupied with finding a certain blue-haired boy, he obviously hadn't been watching where he was going.

Either way, the girl didn't look too happy with his mistake, which he didn't blame her for. If their situations were reversed, he might have gotten kind of annoyed, too. Claude glanced down at scattered papers and rubbed the back of his neck. "O-oh, um, right!"

He hurriedly bent down to retrieve what the girl had dropped, but didn't account for the close proximity of the shelf in front of him. A swift crack to the forehead sent a book that had been precariously balanced above right on top of him. Ears burning now, he barely felt the book flop onto the floor before he hunched down and began gathering the papers together.

This wasn't exactly a very good first impression, was it, he inwardly sighed.

"Here," he said as he sheepishly extended several sheets to her.

Okay, so she'd underestimated just how big a klutz this guy really was. Not only had he run into someone in the middle of a quiet bookstore, but he managed to knock himself a good one just picking up the mess afterward. It was little wonder so many people thought this place was dangerous. If this was the level of skill Landel was used to dealing with, of course it would seem impossible to the average person.

She gave him a crooked smile when he handed her the papers. So maybe it was a little bit cute.

"Thanks," she said with some small amount of sincerity.

"I'm Sakura," she tried, dusting herself off before getting to her feet and offering her hand, "you need help up? Or should I just back up and give you some space?"

"Oh, uh, I'm fine!" he said as he pushed himself up to a full stand. It was embarrassing enough knocking into someone and then whacking his head on a shelf -- the least he could do was haul himself up onto his own two feet. Giving an embarrassed grin, he faintly rubbed top of his forehead. "Thanks, though."

Now that he had a chance to have a closer look at Sakura, Claude realized he recognized her face from the institute. He was pretty sure he'd seen her at least few times in passing, which meant she probably wasn't all that new.

"I'm Claude, by the way," he added. "It's nice to meet you. I've seen you around, actually, but I don't think we've ever talked before." The blond scratched his cheek a little. "Do you like hanging out in the bookstore here?"

The guy did seem durable at least. Despite a rocky start, he was still friendly, so she smiled back and gave him the benefit of the doubt. Her papers were back in order and she was no worse for the wear anyway.

While he might be sure he'd seen her before, it wasn't as though a lot of patients had her same hair color, so she supposed she did stand out. His was a bit less familiar. Still, she tried to keep track of as many as she could.

"I think I'd remember you," she said, just a bit teasingly as she nodded, "I haven't been to this one before, but I was quite a reader back home. It's too bad they won't let us take any of these with us. The library doesn't exactly have a wide selection."

She sized him up, now that they were both on equal ground. Luckily the bumps from their little run-in didn't seem too bad. "What about you?"

Claude didn't think of himself as a particularly distinct-looking guy when he was dressed the same as everyone else (there were plenty of blond-haired, blue-eyed people here, after all), but if he made that kind of first impression on everyone, he guessed it'd be hard to forget. He gave a vaguely embarrassed chuckle.

Hearing that Sakura was big reader wasn't so surprising, since she'd chosen the bookstore to hide from the rain and all. Of course, for some it might have been a convenience thing, but she'd probably been in the middle of browsing through some titles before he'd plowed into her.

"I agree, it'd be nice if they had some kind of book exchange program here since it's so close to the institute," Claude said. The staff seemed perfectly willing to provide the captives with entertainment during the day, so it wasn't like the idea was completely unreasonable. Still, chances were that the owners wouldn't want to lend any books to people who were supposedly crazy.

When she asked about him, he smiled. "Sure, I like to read. I'm pretty fond of science-fiction books, actually, but looking up history for different places can be pretty interesting, too." Claude had spent a bit of time browsing through archives on Expel and Nede in order to better familiarize himself with their history and culture. It was too bad he didn't really have that same option available to him here.

Sakura found herself relaxing a bit once the conversation started rolling. She nodded where appropriate and still managed to skim a few more book titles, hopefully without seeming too rude.

"I'm more into facts and information I suppose," she said, once he'd spoken. Not that she didn't enjoy a good work of fiction now and again. "Especially here. The more I can learn about this place, the better. But I guess fiction is okay too. Interesting for sure. I wonder how exactly they decide what books to let us have and what they choose to censor."

After a moment, she shrugged, "I guess that means you're not from a world like this one either though, right?"

Claude didn't take offense to the way she still skimmed over some books. No need for her to stop what she was doing on his account, after all, and she was still participating in the conversation without seeming too bothered. It was for that reason he figured it was okay for him to stick around and keep chatting.

He could relate to being interested in learning about whatever he could about this place. Unfortunately, the reliable sources were few and far between, and sometimes it felt like he heard conflicting information from the patients themselves. Ultimately, he knew he would have to rely on whatever he managed to dig up for himself.

"Well, I noticed they don't offer any history books," he slowly answered. "Seems kind of weird since they've got just about everything else between the store here and the library back at the institute." Almost like they were trying to hide something, actually. But what? Whatever it was, it was probably pretty important for understanding why they were stuck here in the first place.

As far as where he came from, Claude paused for a moment. "Well, yes and no," he said. "The way this place is set up looks a lot like 21st-century Earth, which is a little over 400 years behind where I originally came from. But I'm not entirely sure if this is the same Earth as before, if that makes any sense."

Those missing history books would probably help answer a lot of questions. But, well...he'd just have to make do with what he could find. Maybe if he could get a better idea of what sorts of constellations were out there, but it was probably a long shot.

"What about you?" he asked. "Where are you from?"

Even if he was a bit clumsy, Claude made some good points. It might not have been anything she hadn't thought of before, but it did mean he was smarter than the average patient. What was interesting though was the strange differences in time here. It'd been like that with her friends too. Progressively later times until there was an Uchiha that threw her off, being from way before any of them. It was strange and she had no real explanation for it, but there were others she'd seen, on the bulletin at least, that could discuss it at length, though none of them seemed to reach a real conclusion either.

"Yeah, I noticed too," she commented, smile slipping into a thoughtful frown, "Some people have said it's Earth or whatever, but I've seen others say that the star charts don't match up with anything like Earth either. So it's possible they're manipulating a whole lot more than we think."

She gave a shrug since there wasn't much else she could do about it. "I'm from Konoha. It's a ninja village in Fire Country. Not a lot to tell. There's a few others from the same place, but different times, so I can sympathize with how weird this all is."

The staff definitely acted like this was Earth, that was for sure. It was possible the whole thing was some scheme to confuse them even more, but why go through all the trouble? What difference would it make if they were on Earth or another planet? They had abducted enough people from different worlds that it didn't seem worth the trouble to pretend they were somewhere else. Considering that so many people seemed to come from alternate version of Earth, though, Claude supposed it was possible that this was another instance of another universe. On the other hand, he couldn't discount the possibility that some of them had undergone some form of mind alteration to make them remember things that didn't really happen.

That was always a disconcerting thought to consider, though, and so he tried not to dwell on it for now.

Either way, Sakura was probably right that their captors were going to great lengths to manipulate them.

When Claude heard where she was from, he couldn't help but look interested. "A ninja village, huh?" He'd never been to a place like that before. A village of heraldry-users, sure, but ninjas? "I guess this place must be pretty different from what you're used to, then," he said. It probably meant that Sakura was skilled in combat, though, which was certainly a handy thing to know in a place like this.

After parting ways from Morgan, Mele had continued along the street, tilting her face up to let the rain fall on her face. Carefully keeping her mind blank, walking slowly, it was almost peaceful—at least, peaceful in that way that blank thoughts meant no worries, and no irritation, and no remembering. It was a little bit like floating; as long as she keep herself afloat on the shallowest layer of awareness—

Until she nearly bumped into someone in front of her. Someone who just glared and shoved past without a word.

Mele huffed and, shaking her head to clear it because there was obviously something in the air affecting her brain functions, ducked into a nearby...shop. Yeah, it was a shop. With books. Mele sighed and resigned herself to brushing the bit of water off her coat before she had to go out into the rain again.

And it wasn't long before she bumped into another someone. Or perhaps he bumped into her, turning around as he was. A dangerous business when his elbows were almost up by her shoulders, but the end result was more benign - unlike the townspeople, this tall fellow in the stitched-up lab coat gave her an apologetic smile instead of a glare.

"Ah, sorry about that," said Stein. "Wasn't looking where I was going!"

He had a thick medical text in hand - after a light lunch, he'd decided to browse the store. Sure, he should probably be out looking for clues, but it was Saturday. He needed one day off at least or he'd go crazy. And no one wanted to see that.

Ow, her neck hurt from looking up too suddenly. "Watch—" As her gaze dropped, she spotted the huge thing he was holding. Well, fine, if he'd been reading. "—watch out for the townspeople. They have pitchforks." Not that Mele had seen any of them armed. But she'd been looking for things she could throw; maybe she could grab some of these books. That meant she'd have to return here before night fell, though. Well, she'd work that out later.

"They must've gotten to you last," she commented, picking at one of the stitches in the lab coat. If they'd given her something this shabby, she would've just thrown it somewhere. Maybe he was cold or something.

Well, that was certainly an unorthodox greeting. Stein blinked and reached up, giving the screw embedded in his skull an idle crank the way one might scratch their head curiously. Well, it seemed this was one of the patients he'd accidentally bumped into - if the second-hand clothes didn't make that obvious. A strange girl, if her comments were anything to judge by.

"Who got to me?" he couldn't help asking, even if he was unlikely to get a comprehensible answer. He shrugged and gave a helpless smile. "Still, apologies for that. I'm Dr. Stein, and you are..?"

Not one of his patients, that was for certain. Still, he'd heard about the erratic scheduling and such, so it couldn't do any harm to get to know them.

"The nurses," Mele replied as she watched him scratch that thing on his head. That was odd, she'd never seen that kind of thing on a human before. Just on jujin, so did that mean he was part beast-man, or— Wait, that only applied to Juken practitioners.

And this guy was a doctor. Well, that explained the coat. No, actually, it didn't. The doctor she'd talked to hadn't worn anything like this; there was no uniform for them, apparently. "I'm Mele. What's the matter, the stuffiness of the Institute getting to you, too, or are you here to observe?" Pick up new victims, maybe? Or to observe the reactions of those they'd already messed with. Maybe they were even doing something, right now.

Yumeno hadn't revealed anything, so it was doubtful this guy would, though. She'd just have to find out in other ways. She just had to figure out what those ways were.

Ah, she thought he was dressed like this because of the nurses. He was almost offended, but too amused to actually be.

"Actually, I was just browsing for books in my spare time. I'd no idea the patients would be here today," Stein replied. Of course, he'd noticed them around before, but hadn't had reason to talk to any. None of the ones he'd spotted were his own patients, so there was little reason to start conversation with them. "I'm staying in Doyleton for the time being, and Saturday seemed like a fine day to see the town. It's a shame the weather turned out like this."

A sigh - though he didn't mind rain on occasion, given how it helped clear the mind, Stein felt fine right now, so the downpour only served to make him wet and miserable. What a way to spend his day off.

So the doctors were free to roam...that info wasn't anything new, though; it just made sense. Well, anyway, he'd confirmed he worked for the Institute, and wasn't some doctor for this town. And today was Saturday. "Aren't the trips every week? If you knew the day of the week, how could you not know the patients would be here?" she asked, moving closer to a bookshelf to take a book and weigh it in her palm.

The weather might be bad, but he had the option, at least, of returning whenever he wanted. Everyone else was stuck. "The rain? At least it isn't a thunderstorm." Forcing the patients to endure a thunderstorm—heh, what a concept. It might become true later. Finding things to throw, staying near the edge of town, making sure the building she'd choose had some sort of shelter...it was becoming too complicated. And there was finding Landel, or his power-boosting object or whatever. Argh, she needed people to do this with.

"What do you think of the town?" She put her book back—it was too light—and picked up another. "Doesn't seem like a good place. The hostility and all."

"So they are, but I've been here less than a week and hadn't asked which day it was they went out," replied Stein, starting to browse the shelves again as well. "Well, it's not like it inconveniences me. Just a coincidence that we're both here now."

A small frown came to his face at her question. He'd noticed the hostility as well, blanketing the town in a haze of irritation that scratched at his mind. At least today there weren't many out and about on account of the whether, so it wasn't as bad as it had been some of the times he'd walked around earlier this week. Still, it wasn't hard to see the reason for it - he had to wonder just when some sick patients had gotten their hands on the yellow paint. The number of orderlies and nurses around on this trip was hard to ignore, but perhaps they'd been more lax last week?

"It's a quiet little town," murmured Stein. "They're just a little upset about whoever's been vandalizing their property. I'm sure once it's all cleaned up and repaired, they'll be back to their normal selves again."

At least he hoped this was just because of the vandalism. Having only arrived after it had happened, he really hoped this wasn't how they were normally.

Day 49: Noon - The Bookworm

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