damned_institute | Day 23: Lunch

The second the intercom sounded, while the man on the intercom was still talking, Ashton pulled himself off the couch in the Music Room and slowly made his way to the door. He walked, glided even, as if he were a ghost in a dream. The nurses had already filed up to escort the patients to the lunchroom, and one bustled over to walk Ashton those few feet from one room to another.

"You're not looking very well, Mr. Pritchett," she said cheerfully. "Didn't you enjoy your shower?"

Ashton replied with a small, forced smile, then shook his head. He didn't feel like talking now. Though the nurses were pushy and downright annoying, he figured he owed this one at least a little explanation. They didn't know - or didn't believe - what went on after dark, but he owed them the benefit of the doubt. "Bad day," he decided on telling her.

Bad day indeed. The showers and the music had done nothing for his nerves. But then again, what could get that graphic image out of his head?

He glided ghostily through the taco line and settled on two chicken and bean tacos, with chips, a scoop of guacamole, two churros on the side, and a glass of apple juice. He wasn't used to this sort of food (save the juice) and he wasn't even sure he'd eat it, but the chances were high that he'd be able to pass it off on someone.

He was on the verge of tears again, too. What he would have given to just sit down next to a barrel and eat a hamburger.

Thank goodness the cafeteria was bare just now, too. It left all the corner tables open, the tables that shouted 'Don't talk to me, I'm brooding over here.' He sat at one, pushed his food a little away from him, and buried his head in his arms.

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Reinforce shook her head. "Fighting experience and numbers aren't enough against some of their servants. During my second night here the group I was with tried to interfere with the the night shift staff and encountered a cyborg. Those that fought all had great skill and two had great powers, but we were still at a disadvantage. The armory will be as bad or worse." Assembling a sufficiently powerful group would be a challenge. Many already had made alliances... she knew she would be hesitant to leave Raine to aid a stranger even if they had such lofty objectives.

Her response to the second question was also negative. "As I said I have no clear account of Special Counseling. Given the ease with which the patients, including me, are returned to our rooms and put to sleep after the night shift without any memory of the move it is possible none exists to be had."

She would have preferred to be more encouraging, but the point of sounding an idea was to identify flaws. Better to argue now than fail later.

Reinforce's response to his plan of uprising was met with a grumble. Dammit.

"So you're saying..." He blinked in a perturbed manner. "We might outnumber them, but our powers aren't a match for theirs...?" Grinding his teeth, he exhaled softly. "Hrn, they must have quite an industry to keep their employees in check. Probably brainwash them as well..." Trailing off as he did when contemplating, his processes collided with a dead-end. Perhaps if Sam were sitting there with him, he'd have something superior to propose and arrangements would carry on the lines of improvement. "Uh, how about- nah." He raised then lowered a hand absent-mindedly, realising the suggestion about to be made would rally a strange stare from his company. Besides, only the hunters he'd been associated with in the past would've understood a word of it.

So he simply issued an annoyed huff and curtly folded his arms; as he did when things were looking pretty grave. "Well, this sucks." He rested both feet up on a chair opposite him. "Sounds like the best thing to do is improvise. This hellhole isn't stable enough to execute formal measures over."

Ah, she did feel bad now. She was supposed to support people, after all... that was the origin of her name, bless Hayate's polyglot soul. "It's not that I disagree with your ideas. The patients need to be more organized, and it may be that our only chance for escape is to try to interfere with the true workings of the facility instead of just playing their little game." Though, for all she knew, that would only represent a change in their level of play. After all, no matter how far above them they were now, medical experiments and cyborgs could never have brought her here. Nothing appeared during the nightshift that would even have made a good meal for her... the 'true workings' of the facility might lie much higher than she presently knew to look. Thoughts like that were the reason she didn't like thinking about the purpose or structure of Landel's too deeply...

She continued. "I am cautious because I believe that if we ever begin to pose a real threat we will likely receive a proportionate response. Wandering in small groups isn't effective but given the opposition we face it seems to be what's expected of us. We can make only small gains but the danger is relatively low, at least for those with strong abilities, and some success is tolerated." In her eyes the status quo favored the patients in that their numbers, experience, and resources grew while the facility appeared unchanging. For a being of her age she wasn't nearly as patient as one might expect, owing greatly to her fear of inaction, but her logic told her it was the best response to this situation.

He tapped his foot as he digested the information. 'Playing their little game'; yes, it had been fairly obvious from the start that what she'd told him in the Chapel was indeed closest to the truth he'd come by – that the staff seemed to toy with their patients. There has to be another motive, he thought silently. There must be fastidious statistics or data on each of us, and that's why they chose to capture us. Dean still had a scheme in mind suggesting this was all an illusion, and he was essentially unconscious in a hospital bed, awaiting contact from a reaper. It would explain why he didn't know anyone in the vicinity from his past.

His brother just better have a plan to pull him back to reality. Or-

Stomach sinking, another thought invaded. What if being sent here was Sam's doing? What if this is where those who were on the barely discernible borderline between life and death came to rest while they anticipated revival? Oblivion. Maybe this was a daydream of Hell. The dull ache of his burns said otherwise, however. This had to be reality of some variety or another.

He shook his head. Thinking in circles like that would drive him crazy if he persisted; perhaps that's what the staff of the Institute wanted.

"I see. We show signs of muscle and they mirror it back. Great." Biting his lower lip, eyes avoiding glances by moving to inanimate objects, he uncrossed his arms and got to his feet unexpectedly. "It's been fun, but I really have to get going. Gotta-" He motioned to the exit – "Meet someone." He gave Rein a friendly pat on the shoulder. "With luck I'll run into you later!"

Day 23: Lunch

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