damned_institute | Night 49: Group Therapy Room 2

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Night 49: Group Therapy Room 2

[Stumbling in from here.]

The knob turned and Sechs pushed the door open. As he exited through, the Replica bowed his head, expecting the thunderous weather outside to greet him with an instant downpour of rain. Instead, a brief sensation of falling startled Sechs before he felt his mind crash into an impossible set of new senses--

"Wha--?"

He didn't find himself within the soaking darkness of the recreational field, but instead he had somehow stumbled into a near pitch black room...?! Blinking almost comically, Sechs' vision scrambled to catch up with the new layer of darkness. The surprised android jerked his head around in every direction his neck would allow. His wolfish eyes nearly bulged as they took in the new room, but his brain was a few seconds late to catch up on all the new data. So far he could spot only a few chairs and tables about, nothing terribly interesting. Was this some kind of office? But weren't they going outside just a second ago?!

There didn't seem to be any danger in the small room either, but the Replica's brain was still reeling from the abrupt change of environment, sending his bewildered system into high alert. Once his senses got a firm enough grip on what just happened, Sechs could only determine that for some crazed reason, he had just ended up inside some room instead of the recreational field outside.

He could really have cared less for that particular conclusion.

"Alright!" Sechs snarled, his eyes still darting around for a more sensible answer. "What gives here?!"

Then a chilling thought came to mind. Shit! What if this was just the drug screwing around with him again?! Sechs couldn't see the usual living shadows swirling throughout his vision yet, but he could never be sure... Not moving from the spot, Sechs checked over his shoulder to see if Forte had ended up in the impossible room as well. It was the only way Sechs could think of to discern if this was all just in his head or something else...

"Forte...?"

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As they reached the door, it finally occurred to Forte that it had only been raining harder and harder as the day went on, and it was actually nice to have changed out of the soaked field trip clothes into the dry uniform. But, pouring rain or not, it too late to back down, and he followed Sechs out the door...

...and into another room.

There was a moment of confusion, and his senses were definitely not giving valid input, and then he was in a dark but dry room.

What?

He tried to come up with a response to Sechs's inquiry.

"What?"

He shone his light around, determining that the only exit was the one they had entered through.

"This shouldn't be here. I went through that door before," he turned back, seeing that the door had shut itself somehow, even though he hadn't touched it. "it led outside, to the track and field."

He turned the light back on the room - too much furniture casting shadows to be sure nothing was lurking. It looked like another generic room of the institute, with several chairs and bland decorations, just not one he'd seen before. Of course, none of these observations helped with his main problem with the room.

"This shouldn't be here. How did we get here?"

Edited 2010-05-23 05:33 (UTC)

Sechs repressed a sigh of relief at the sight of Forte. It was like an invisible rubber band had just been released from his chest. Good, so it wasn't just the drug acting up again then! Now with that out of the way, he could deal with the rest of the problem: How the hell this even happened in the first place!

Following suit, Sechs grabbed for his own flashlight and began investigating the room, primarily the door, which was suspiciously closed behind them. "Yeah! That's what I thought!" he answered, his frown worsened by the flashlight's glow. "Heck, I could even hear the rain outside through that door!" And come to think of it, the sounds of the storm seemed more muffled here compared to the hallway they were just walking through...

Grumbling in the dark, Sechs shook his messy head at Forte's question. "Hell if I know..."

Setting his axe down against one of the couches, Sechs pulled out his maps and glared at the papers with an accusing scowl, as though blaming them for this strange mishap. He scanned and pondered over the maps, redoing the whole cycle a couple more times until his head began to ache. Growling, Sechs shoved the maps back into his pocket and grabbed for his weapon.

"Ugh! What a load of BS!" he growled, although a smidgen of uncertainty sneaked its way into his angry tone. "Here I was talking about Landel screwing with us, and then this happens!"

Forte was quickly getting bored with this room, and had the sudden thought that they might be trapped there. It certainly seemed like a potential trap - brought there against their will, one exit, a useless room with nothing to use. And of course, the door closing itself once they were both inside.

He quickly turned and grabbed the handle, expecting it to be locked - it wasn't.

In fact, opening it, he found an ordinary-looking hall. Just a different one -the hallway stretched to either side, with doors along the opposite wall, rather than leading away the direction they had come.

"Okay, this crap is too much." How were they supposed to find anything useful, or even figure out what was in the rest of the building or grounds, if they didn't even know how they got there?

Approaching the opened door, Sechs loomed over Forte, his head just a foot above the shorter youth's as he glared at the hallway outside. He snarled under his breath at what he saw. Across from the door was another wall with more doors! That wasn't right! The door he pushed through a moment ago wasn't faced like this! His displeasure with the puzzle worsened.

"Well, c'mon! Standing around in this dumb room ain't gonna solve anything!" Sechs growled, sharing the same impatience with the situation as Forte, "We gotta find somewhere we recognize to orientate ourselves..."

He pushed past Forte through the door, expecting his boot to land into the new hallway when that strange sensation he felt earlier returned...

Edited 2010-05-24 04:27 (UTC)

Same feeling as before; it was almost normal at this point. Wherever they'd landed, it was suspiciously quiet. Logan cast the beam of his flashlight over the walls and found artwork (predictably bad, although he wasn't much of an art critic), and beneath that, weirdly non-institutional furniture.

They had no way of knowing where they'd end up if they walked back out that door, and he decided he'd had enough of this jumping around bullshit. For a few minutes, at least. He dropped the stuff he was carrying on the glass table in the center of the room, and propped his flashlight at an angle. It lit up a spot on the wall and half a painting uselessly.

He sprawled out on the couch, one arm propped on the back. "Where's that beer?"

Well this is anti-climactic.

Running through a room of giant boulders trying to crush them and then into a quiet little room. Though she reminded herself not to complain. They were faring very well so far, she would hate to jinx them because she was selfishly looking for a bit more oomf. She watched Logan sink into the well-used couch. This was already turning into a familiar pattern. But she didn't mind since she was starting to feel a bit nauseous from their last entrance. It would be good to take a bit of a break and so, feeling like a bit like a ragged housewife, Tifa handed over his beer before flopping down beside him with a sigh.

There were stale muffins and other snacks lined up on a glass table, but her stomach was too queasy to appreciate the good luck. She would be stealing those apples though.

So much for appreciating it later. Logan popped the cap off and flipped it into the shadows. Two beers wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but it was better than nothing.

After sitting and drinking in silence for a time, he said, "I'm gettin' the impression you're used to this stuff. Don't think it's just because you been here for a few days. Am I wrong?" He hadn't really gotten that impression until he'd seen her handle the obstacle course back there, but it didn't really matter: what mattered was that she was looking less and less likely to die if he turned his back for a second. (And the fact that she could make alcohol from apples, that mattered, too.)

"No, my life's been pretty chaotic for a bartender..." She didn't think a first meeting needed to include her recounting her exploits as a terrorist or chasing down a genocidal maniac however. Tifa would save that can of worms for another time. Uncomfortable saying much more about herself, the young woman looked over at Logan in the dim lighting. A warm trickle began to flow down her lip again and she quickly turned away to wipe it on her arm. The couch was low enough that she could rest her head back against the soft leather and elevate her face.

"I hope it's not broken..." She had gone at least a good seven years fighting without a break, Tifa going to be pissed if this stupid little institute ruined her streak now. "Anyways..." The last thing she wanted was for him to worry about her face, so she did her best to change the subject. "So what about you? Is this just like one more day in the life of Logan?"

'I hope it's not broken' wasn't the kind of thing you could just ignore. Logan leaned forward and grabbed his flashlight. If she'd managed to dodge all that crap with a potentially broken bone, he was going to be legitimately impressed. It was kind of stupid for anybody who wasn't him, but working around pain was something he could appreciate.

"Pretty much," he said, intending to leave it at that. If you wanted to get technical, an average day involved a lot more cutting through warm bodies, especially lately, but if she meant that it was bizarre and dangerous, then yeah, it was typical. "You think you broke somethin'?"

"Augh, I dunno, I've never broken a bone before..." Okay, well, that was not exactly true. She had fucked up her hands plenty of times when she was young and inexperienced at martial arts. And that giant scar she had across her chest, but the question had been "broke", not "slashed".

"I pretty much face planted into your back when we crashed into all that food. You have a brick wall for a back if you didn't know..." She began to laugh, but it upset her stomach and holy shit she was starting to feel a bit light-headed. It had been easy to ignore the pain in the crazy death by falling rocks room due to being flooded with adrenaline and exhaustive practice fighting despite injury. "I hadn't felt it before, but it's starting to throb now..."

This is the last thing we need tonight!

And no potions or cure to just fix her right up. Augh, this place was horrible!

A brick wall for a back - that touched something Logan had noticed on and off for the past day: he felt lighter. It was an uneasy thought, a thought that brought him back a few years, and he didn't know what to do with its implications right now but ignore them. He didn't have time to think about that bullshit. He set his beer down on the table decisively.

"Close your eyes a minute," he said, and pointed his flashlight at her. He knew a thing or two about broken noses - he'd never needed to worry about his own, but he still considered himself a pretty good judge of a banged-up nose. He studied Tifa's for a second - it wasn't obvious, if it was broken. He pressed his fingers to the sides, consciously gentle. "This hurt?"

"What're y--?" Ugh, this wasn't that big of a deal. Was it because she was a woman? Really, she could just walk it off until the night was over, she wasn't going to allow this man's chivalry or misogyny back her into the timeout corner.

Narrowing her eyes at his command, she eventually relented and squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn't last long. The moment he touched her, pain blossomed across her face and made her eyes water. Reflexively, the brunette turned away and slapped him across the neck. "Ow! Yes! Goddamn... Listen, if you can't use cure on it, don't just poke at it..." She felt a bit childish pouting at the man, but fuck! He didn't need to be touching shit that shouldn't be touched.

It wasn't a completely surprising reaction, since touching it must've hurt, but Logan couldn't help raising his voice a little: "Relax. I was tryin' to see if it was broken." He looked away, took a second to calm down. She was probably scared; she was in a bad place with a maybe-broken nose, and being scared made thinking harder ('use cure on it' was pretty good evidence of that).

"Anyway," he continued, "bad news is I think you broke it. Good news is I can't really tell until you put some ice on it." He stood up, slinging the makeshift satchel of stuff over his shoulder, and grabbed his beer. "So let's go find some ice."

Oh goody.

Her nose ached, her head hurt, she felt dizzy and nauseous, and she was going to be stuck like this for the rest of the night. Maybe the following day too. This was a downer, but at least it was only her nose. Tifa had to keep reminding herself that she could still function, even if she was a bit on the woozy side. Plus she wasn't alone. Logan seemed to have a good head on his shoulders so she wasn't too worried. She was more worried about all of her supplies making it through the night.

Standing up was a surprising challenge though. It agitated her light head and stomach, forcing her to take a seat while she regained her equilibrium. "H'alright, let me try this again--Oh crap, hold on!" Light-headed or no, the brunette scrambled over to a corner behind the couch and put her head between her legs just in time for her to hurl back up her dinner. This was embarrassing. Tifa prided herself in being rather more professional than this, but it really couldn't be helped. Taking a few lungfuls of clean air, she coughed and threw up one last time.

Side-stepping toward the table of food so Logan couldn't see her red-eyed and nasty face, she grabbed a few napkins and cleaned herself off. "Oh..." Se almost forgot the apples. She grabbed three and turned around, looking anywhere but at her companion for the night. "Alright, now we can go..."

Whether it was nerves or something to do with her nose or whatever else, Logan didn't know, but he turned toward the door out of rare courtesy. It didn't bother him; he'd seen his own intestines and watched his muscles grow back, but if he'd learned anything about women in all the years he'd been alive, it was that they didn't like to feel - in a word that Kitty would've used to describe it - gross.

He turned back when she joined him at the door and pulled it open for both of them. If whatever the hell was going on tonight didn't land them somewhere with ice, they could just keep moving until it did.

It was especially disorienting jumping from rushing down stairs to a level floor, and as he realized it, Forte stumbled a bit before catching a chair.

So here they were... "Back where we started?" Well, after finding the secret passage, that was supremely disappointing.

"At least we can warm up before we leave again."

Edited 2010-05-25 20:58 (UTC)

"The basement, eh? Let's take a look then!"

By now Sechs was accustomed to the sensation of traveling between these seemingly random rooms. Back as a cyborg, dangerous acrobatics went hand in hand with his formidable battle skills. Spinning and jumping like a gyroscope was a cinch for the Replica to deal with, although it took a little longer to adapt with in his organic body.

Too bad all those abilities didn't help him choose their next destination. "What?!" Sechs barked, just as disappointed as Forte, "You kidding me?!"

Suddenly, there was another piercing cackle inside Sechs' psyche, followed by an icy stab into his back. A soft grunt escaped him as he hunched over towards the nearest chair. "Yeah, uh... Let's do that," he grumbled as he painfully collapsed into a couch, losing his fight against his body's reaction to the cold. The room's warmth seemed to be doing nothing for the chill that was swiftly growing throughout Sechs' flesh.

Shivering, he set his axe down against the chair while he propped the flashlight on the armrest. Sechs was sure there had to be a pattern to this whole misadventure with the doors, but he was losing the fight to channel his concentration. The flashlight beside him was starting to fade, just like what happened that other night, and his spine had gotten so cold that he was beginning to feel unbearably numb all over his back.

It took little time before Sechs felt himself bow to the cold. He slumped to the side of the chair, knocking his darkened flashlight to the floor with a clatter. He was starting to lose all feeling in his shoulders now, while his breathing turned into quiet wheezing. The cold was getting so bad now that he was surprised to not find any mist flowing out from his mouth.

Clambering to fight off the side-effects, Sechs shut his eyes so tightly that he could see faint stars explode beneath his eyelids. While Sechs focused as hard as he could to repel his shadowy tormentor's grip, he began to lose track of everyone and everything around him; which after that night he nearly killed Fai and Kibitoshin, was the last thing he needed...!

Forte looked around the room again, shivering a bit as he recovered. Hopefully, Sechs was warming up to.

Looking over, though, he was looking even worse. "Whoah, Sechs... are you okay?"

He wasn't responding, and looked like he was in pain, falling into one of the couches. Didn't Zex say that they Sechs had been taken a few nights ago?

"What's wrong? What did they do to you?!"

Looking frantically around the room, he spied the rug in the center, and kicked the table over to get it.

"Here," he tossed the rug, soft side down, over Sechs as he closed his eyes. He grabbed Sechs's shoulder as hard as he could, digging his fingers in, hoping to snap him out of it.

"It's okay, we're safe here! There's nothing else here!" It was all he could think to say, not knowing what was happening to his friend.

The frigid darkness was closing in fast. He could feel the muscles in his arms seize, compromising the grip he had around his torso. More sparks flashed within his vision as his ears became overwhelmed by mental static and the horrible voice that sounded just like his own.

"Running around in circles!" the toxin roared inside his throbbing skull, "Like vermin in a trap! You're pathetic!"

Shaking fervently within the chair, Sechs fought back with his own inner voice, "No! Shut up! Stop it already! STOP!" His own thoughts rang loudly with the dark poison's, but it was easily swept away by the drug's power. Sechs desperately willed the cold out of his spine, but his efforts didn't seem to make any immediate difference. If this kept up, Sechs feared he would become frozen on the inside. It didn't matter if he was physically or mentally freezing, all he knew now was the biting ice and the strident attacks against his will power...

Suddenly, a new voice snapped Sechs out of his inward battle. Something had fallen upon his back, while he could feel a hand gripping into his shoulder. The darkness that had engulfed the Replica instantly scattered like dozens of cockroaches. For a few seconds, Sechs was nearly delirious, his amber eyes darting about as his breaths came out in heavy gasps. It was as though his mind was still in free fall; nothing made any sense to him until...

"Wh-what...? Forte?"

The storm finally began to reside, restoring feeling and control into his arms and torso. His shivering lessened, but he could have sworn he felt frost melting down his back underneath his suit. Having only caught Forte's last sentence, Sechs gazed about the room, which looked far lighter now that the worst of his episode had passed. Even his fallen flashlight's beam could be seen trailing down the length of the room. They seemed safe for now.

Seeing the concern on Forte's face, it was then Sechs realized just how visible his struggle must have been. For the first time that night, warmth started to fill up his face, but it was the kind that stemmed from shame. Bowing his head, Sechs pulled the makeshift blanket closer around him.

"Shit...! I... Um..." He wanted to explain away his problem and keep up his tough stance to the fellow fighter, but he was at a total loss for words.

Meanwhile, the "Dark side of the Moon" laughed on from the far back of Sechs' mind.

Forte was starting to panic, not knowing how to help. He could deal with some kind of monster that he could attack, but it was like something was attacking Sechs from inside - in his head, or in his body.

Fortunately, the other fighting 'bot was starting to come out of it. "Shit, are you okay? ...what the hell did they do to you?" Color was returning to his face too, after paling from panic.

It must have been triggered by the cold in the fridge, he realized, and he totally missed it, too wrapped up in his own stupid problems to see there was some serious crap going on.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," he reassured Sechs at his protest. He'd been worried about looking weak in front of Sechs, but there was obviously something more dire than hurt feelings going on here. He kept his grip tight, in case that was what had brought Sechs back to full consciousness.

Ever so slowly, Sechs' breathing returned to a steady pace while his body straightened up against the chair like a plant recovering from a nasty bout of winter. The negative consciousness backed off for now, but it seemed quite pleased with the weakening episode it just dragged its host through. The disgusting creature certainly knew the right times to break Sechs down...

Forcing himself to focus on what was going on outside of his head, Sechs glanced up to find his ally still close by him with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The battle android felt relieved to see no disgust or scorn on Forte's face, but it did little to ease Sechs' growing aggravation with himself. He was supposed to be stronger than this! All because they ended up in that stupid fridge! ...Although, the drug always got worse as the night aged... Still, Sechs had been so determined to keep above the toxin's influence; it was beyond disappointing to see himself fail that goal all over again!

Sechs looked away, reluctant to answer Forte's question. "They fucked me up! That's what!" Sechs growled, his voice on the verge of shouting. Now that the worst of the fear and pain had subsided, there was a tremendous amount of anger that took their place. His hands clenched tightly into the edges of the rug as his narrowed eyes gleamed in the darkness.

"That BASTARD doctor thought it'd be a great idea to shove some dark poison into my back...!" After blurting those words out, the fury in his voice suddenly faltered. It was hard enough experiencing the side-effects, never mind talk about them! His words trailed off for a little while. By the time he spoke again, his voice was quieter, if not strained. "It's at its worst at night..."

Despite whatever good intention Forte had behind his reassurance, Sechs' battered ego flared up at his support. "No! It's NOT fine!" he snapped, more furious with himself and how screwed up the night had gotten than anything. Sechs made to stand up, but his muscles were still too stiff, sending him back down into the couch with a frustrated grunt. "Urgh! Crap!"

Forte listened silently as Sechs explained. It was partly a matter of respect, and partly because he had no idea what to say. He'd never dealt with anything like this, neither the poison that was disabling an otherwise strong fighter, or just trying to provide comfort. What could he say?

He had felt weak since being brought to the institute, true, and even like his body was fighting against him - but it was nothing like what had just happened to Sechs. All the robots had had to deal with that, the cyborg included, but that looked like he was actually attacked.

It was terrifying to think that the doctors could do something that insidious, not just because of the possibility that they could do it to Forte. He'd been counting on Sechs since they met up, to help him find trouble to make, and to remind him what he should be like - to make Forte feel like himself again, instead of feeling sorry for himself. And now Sechs was the one that looked like he was beating himself up because of something this Landel guy did. So, what could Forte do? What would he want Sechs to do if he was sitting in the chair?

Finally, he let go of Sechs, and picked up the flashlight on the ground. "You're right, it's not fine. This is bullshit."

He tossed the light into the other fighter's lap. "So get up. We've still gotta find this guy, so we can force him to take it out, or just kick his ass. Hopefully both."

The Replica found himself glaring down at the flashlight. He brooded over Forte's words, while the drug scoffed at the mere suggestion of finding the perpetrators. The last time Sechs tried to find the doctor who tortured him didn't work out so great. He did find the hallway where the experiments took place, but in the end he hit a dead end - and nearly killed Fai and Kibitoshin in the midst of the drug's illusions. By now Sechs was given the impression that finding Landel or any of his employed doctors was impossible, along with finding a cure towards the terrible consequences of being one of their guinea pigs. So far it seemed hopeless...

But Sechs wasn't a quitter. He didn't learn that perseverance was one quality of a true warrior for nothing! Finally, Sechs gave Forte a stern nod and grabbed the flashlight. He rose up from the couch with better success, flexing his recovering muscles, before bending down to relinquish his axe.

"I've tried to find him before..." he said, a look of grim determination on his face, "But I'm not the type who quits on the first try!"

Feeling his tenacity and some healthy warmth return to him, Sechs made his way towards the door for the second time that night. "Maybe if we figured out a pattern to these places that the doors keep dumping us in..." he mused out loud, "We could find the bastards who run this place!"

Sechs was about to open the door when he paused. He looked over his shoulder towards Forte. "Just warning ya... But, if it" Sechs gestured to his back, "starts acting up again... I don't really know how to totally snap out of it yet but... You can try hitting me or something..."

Sechs turned his gaze back towards the door as he grimly added, "And if that doesn't work, stay outta the way..."

Edited 2010-05-28 21:30 (UTC)

[From here]

Sure enough, there was no sign of the previous hall behind the door, and that queasy sensation returned as soon as they passed through it. Instead of a hall, they found themselves inside a very plush, safe-looking room that Utena had never seen before. Of note, there was a table in the middle of the room that had been knocked over, and a big fuzzy rug lay strewn in a heap by a couch. It didn't exactly look like a fight or struggle had taken place; there probably would've been an even bigger mess if there had been. That still didn't tell her what exactly had happened here, though.

"I'm betting whatever's going on here's got less to do with any one room than it does with just the way we're getting to them," Utena said quietly as she gazed over the newly appeared room. The only thing keeping her from boggling out of her mind right now was the fact that, again, stranger things had happened at Ohtori before. The night of Himemiya's kidnapping came immediately to mind, with the coffin appearing in the duel arena, the suddenly raising platforms, and the castle in the sky suddenly crumbling on top of them, only to reassemble itself perfectly in a moment with no damage done to anyone or anything. She half wondered if she ought to be thankful the stupid duel game had completely destroyed her sense of normality at this point.

Edited 2010-06-07 18:38 (UTC)

Ruby had to admit that what Utena was saying actually made a little sense. Going out the door and into another room, there was the same dizzying, sickening sensation as before and maybe that really was the important part. Having to get that pointed out by a fifteen year old stung a little, but it was hardly the greatest indignity the demon had ever suffered.

The place they ended up looked like an office, though one that had already been gone over by someone else. This lent a certain credibility to the “random portal” theory. If other patients had also chanced upon this room before then, of course they’d toss it looking for useful things. Ruby had one flimsy butterfly knife between her and a few certain unpleasant sensations; a lot of people here probably had less. Almost definitely had less.

Though Utena had a sword. That still kind of bothered her.

“The way we’re getting to them sounds about right, actually.” Ruby frowned, glancing at the rumpled rug. “Doesn’t explain how.”

"No, it doesn't," Utena answered simply, though she wasn't really so much interested in the "how" as the "why." Why would this suddenly happen tonight of all nights? Was it some kind of replacement for the zombies from the previous week? Did something weird like this just happen every week in honour of Spooky Saturday or something?

Utena shook her head. She just really didn't get it, not any of it. The only thing that was clear to her at this point was that this was going to make it really, really hard to find Himemiya. That didn't mean she was going to stop looking, though. There didn't look like there was much else to check out in the room, and she doubted her friend was going to be hiding behind a chair or couch randomly. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to keep looking for my friend. I don't care if Landel's trying to mess with us or what. He's done worse so far and that hasn't stopped me yet," she said with a solid determination in her voice as she turned back toward the door.

[To here]

Edited 2010-06-09 06:25 (UTC)

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Night 49: Group Therapy Room 2

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:/ I have no icons of TIfa with a bloody nose WHAT IS THIS?!

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