damned_institute | Night 53: M51-M60 Hallway

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Night 53: M51-M60 Hallway

The doors had not even unlocked and Landel had already began granting them more examples of his cryptic rambles. Hnn. Perhaps Scar was growing paranoid after all this time, but it almost sounded as though as if he had yet another surprise in store for them, be it tonight or tomorrow.

The doors finally unlocked, and the former lion moved into the hallway carrying little else but a steel pipe for self-defense. He did not even have a real plan, as what appeared to be the trend as of late. It was ironic how he looked down upon others for running around like headless chickens, but with the painful lack of any progress it proved to be a difficult pattern to break from.

Anything was better than staying in the room, however.

Well, he supposed he should get to the main hall first and find some poor fool to go with him.

[To here]

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As confused as Zack was about what Terra had been trying to tell him, what he did know was that the kid was definitely genuine. Everything he was saying was true, at least to him, which either meant Zack was missing memories or something weird was going on. Anything seemed possible at the moment, as this place had been teaching him that there was nothing he could take for granted. That shadow last night had known things it shouldn't have. For all he knew, this sort of situation was possible too, and he was just glad that Terra didn't hold it against him too much.

It was probably something else he would be better off bringing up on the bulletin rather than trying to puzzle out himself. He just hoped that Terra took care of himself when he headed out, but it seemed clear that the teen had no interest in sticking around in their room. That was fine with Zack, so long as he was smart about it.

Still, as much as he might want to, he couldn't bring him along to the basement. It wasn't the sort of place anyone should go on their first night, and he doubted Aidou would be too pleased if he showed up with a tag-along.

Shaking his head up at the intercom once the announcement had tied up (did that guy ever get sick of talking?), Zack then grabbed for his pry bar and his flashlight. He didn't paint the most threatening picture at the moment, but that didn't matter. He just had to make sure that he actually did some damage with what he had if they ran into anything. His materia, as usual, was placed into his pocket. It hadn't done that much good against the zombies, but there was always the chance that he'd run across something that was weak to lightning.

"All right, I'm off. Be careful," he told Terra once more. "We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?" He wanted to apologize again, but in the end he realized that he hadn't really done anything wrong. If anything, the institute was probably responsible. So, after waving to the boy, Zack walked through their door and started on his way.

Edited 2010-12-14 02:53 (UTC)

Even if she hadn't pushed down her pen so hard that it'd nearly torn a hole through her note, Gumshoe knew he might be in for a rough night from the second he learned they were heading over to Prosecutor von Karma's room. It was gonna be one of those nights where he wouldn't be able to get a single word in. (Like everything he said wasn't worth saying!) On the bright side, at least he didn't have to worry about getting enough sleep for tomorrow. But the most important thing of all was that it wasn't paperwork.

He'd have to follow her instructions to the letter tonight if he didn't want to be slapped in front of people and look like a loser, but it rarely worked out the way he wanted, even when he was trying real hard to watch for the warning signs: how she suddenly started glaring at him (or had a smirk on her face; either one of those)... how she paused in the middle of a sentence (when he got distracted or stopped listening; the number of times he'd almost gotten away with dozing whilst standing)... how she didn't try to interrupt him the whole time he told her a story...

Gumshoe had been thinking about just how bad this night was going to be when Dr. Landel's typical rant started out being less 'typical' and more 'outright confusing'. Couldn't he go one night without sounding crazy? Maybe they'd actually start believing what the nurses said if he stuck to one story. Charade... The detective couldn't have thought up a better word for it himself.

As for what 'The Eagle' was meant to stand for, he had absolutely no idea.

[to here]

Kaito wanted to do something to help Hattori get over his paranoia.

He was convinced that was what it was—just a series of coincidences that added up to look like something more sinister and planned than what had really happened—but... Well, there was a chance (however slim) that Hattori was right about the whole thing. And trying to help would have to wait for another night, anyway; tonight he had plans with Yukari.

Dinner had been quiet; Landel certainly had been quicker to change his tune than usual afterwards, but he'd been possibly even more cryptic as well. Kaito didn't waste much time in leaving the room after the doors unlocked, retrieving his pipe, his needles-turned-lockpicks, and his flashlight before heading out the door and down the hall.

[Skipping to here]

Edited 2010-12-17 21:09 (UTC)

"He's gonna beat ya senseless y'know!" the drug sniggered inside Sechs head.

Night had arrived, and Sechs' new roommate had made a swift exit for the hallway, leaving him alone with the poisonous burden in his spine. Everything seemed to be spiraling down into a murky depth that Sechs feared would be the end of him. The note he discovered had somehow found its way into Landel's hands, his roommate Mike was gone, Forte hadn't been seen for days, and Sechs had suffered nothing but disgrace since he was taken as a Special Counseling patient. Now Sechs had Recluse's foreboding challenge to deal with for the night...

"Shut up! I've dealt with way bigger and stronger opponents than Recluse before!" Sechs snapped back as he pulled on his battle suit past his waist. "What makes Recluse any worse? I'm pretty sure I can take him!" he added, although more to himself as reassurance than a retort against his unwanted passenger.

The drug simply chuckled. "Well, for one thing, he's a HELL lot bigger than you!" it replied with great arrogance, "He's smarter than you, probably has more weapons than you and he may not be as agile as your first roommate, but he did dodge some of your attacks from last night!" Another vicious cackle rattled Sechs' consciousness, "So like I said, he's gonna beat ya stupid!"

Sechs grounded his teeth and hatefully clasped his hand over his neck, willing the loathsome voice to go away. "No he's not...!"

Ignoring the dark laughter, Sechs worked to put on the rest of his gear, but his hands had begun to tremble, causing his fingers to slip occasionally. What was wrong with him?! Sechs had experienced pre-battle jitters before back at the Z.O.T.T, but he was always able to boost himself up for the challenge, convincing himself that he was a great warrior who could handle anything that was thrown at him. Plus he loved to fight! How could he say no to a challenge?

But tonight was different. This was an ally who was looking out for revenge than a fair fight, and in organic terms he was arguably far bigger and stronger in comparison! What if Recluse was planning to kill him? The drug had pounced on those thoughts with much gusto, feeding into the apprehension Sechs had been feeling since Recluse made his challenge that afternoon.

There was a lot hanging on the result of this fight. It wasn't about fun or revenge; to Sechs, it was a chance to redeem himself. Even if it wasn't entirely his fault for what happened the night before, he had to show Recluse -- and more importantly, himself -- that he was a real warrior, not some dumb grunt! If Sechs couldn't believe in himself, how would he ever be able to help himself and others escape the institute?

No matter what, Sechs was going to face Recluse head on...!

And here was M55. Javert wasted no time in knocking loudly and firmly before settling back on his heels and waiting. If Sechs was inside, he should have no trouble hearing.

The sharp knocking on the door sent Sechs bristling up like a spooked wolf, causing his fingers to slip on one of the belts that held up his armor. As his shoulder plates tumbled down with a clatter, Sechs snapped his head towards the door, his hair whipping through the air like black blades.

"The HELL?!"

Was that Recluse at the door? No, that couldn't be it... He said they were going to fight in the main hall! Who the hell would be visiting him now--

Ignoring the dismantled gear on the floor and grabbing his machete, Sechs stomped to the door and swung it open.

"YOU!" he snarled at Javert with an accusing glare. So the guy had decided to bring back the notes, huh? Sechs knew now would be a good time to question Javert about how they got passed on to Landel, and he wasn't planning on being nice and tactful about it!

Sechs reached out to grab Javert by the collar and drag him into the room. "GET IN HERE! I got a bone to pick with ya!"

"The HELL?!"

The shout was muffled by the door, but the tone of Sechs's voice was clear enough for all that. One eyebrow twitched upward for a moment. Had Sechs forgotten their meeting? Probably not--the overreaction was too strong for that. Perhaps he thought someone else was at the door. There was little time to ponder the curious reaction; the door flew open, and there was Sechs, holding a machete. His apparent irritation did not appear to have faded.

Javert did not resist when a large fist seized him by the collar and dragged him through the door. It was certainly not the welcome he had expected, but he'd get to the bottom of the matter regardless. One large hand rose up to firmly grasp Sechs's wrist. Could he hold off the infuriated robot for any significant amount of time? Unlikely. But he was no weakling himself, despite what his age might suggest, and he had been in far worse situations.

"Evidently," he said. There was faint amusement in his expression and his tone of voice. "If you wanted me to meet you earlier, you should have said as much. I would advise you let me go, by the by; you have already crumpled my cravat, and I doubt you would wish the same fate to befall your notes."

"You always had such a friendly way with greeting people, don't ya?" the cold poison taunted in Sechs' head. The Replica ignored the voice, keeping his focus on the man within his grasp and shutting the door behind with the end of his machete.

Meanwhile, Javert's faintly snarky reaction only angered Sechs further, as it only deepened his festering suspicions about him. He growled at Javert, curling his lips up to reveal sharpened teeth. "SCREW your STUPID cravat!" he roared in the other man's face, giving him a little shake for good measure. Yet despite his outburst, Sechs released Javert with a not-so-gentle shove.

"It's kinda too late for those notes to get destroyed anyways!" he snarled, taking a step back from Javert, "I don't know if you got the news yet, but somehow Landel found out about Jill! And now she's probably dead or something!"

Now all the guilt and humiliation Sechs suffered was converging into a dangerous chemical reaction, forcing the infuriated Replica to loudly pour out his accusations at his side-burned suspect.

"I'm sure as HELL know I've talked about the notes to the right people. Well, almost everyone!" Narrowing his eyes, Sechs raised his machete, keeping its glinting tip pointed towards Javert's precious cravat. "You just run off with those papers without asking last night, and then I hear about Jill being tortured by Landel over the intercom!"

Sechs then made a threatening jab in the air with his blade, "How 'bout explaining to me how that happened, huh?!"

Javert stepped back as he was released, his expression unchanging. Best to keep his distance; he doubted he would have time to draw his own blade, and being spitted by a short-tempered robot this early in the night would inconvenience his plans somewhat. Besides, he quite liked his cravat where it was, and finding another one here would be difficult.

But the infuriated tirade pouring from Sechs helped to clarify matters somewhat. Regardless of his outward bearing, Javert had been surprised by Sechs's sudden anger; it helped to know the cause of that anger at least had its basis in something resembling rationality. He had been able to talk his way out of it before; there was no reason to think he couldn't do it again.

"By the time I got here, your room was in a total state of disarray. The notes in question were scattered all over the floor. By whom? Let us say the people who took you last night. It stands to reason that Landel prefers not to have complete idiots in his employ; I think you can draw your own conclusions there. If anything, the orderlies saw the notes long before I arrived.

"As for me," he continued, and most of the amusement in his voice had disappeared by now, "I copied the notes, returned to my room, and placed the notes under my bed before I fell asleep. They were still there and clearly undisturbed this morning."

He reciprocated the jab of Sechs's machete with his own finger, straight at the taller man's chest, and felt a little stupid for doing so. Perhaps Edgeworth had rubbed off on him somewhat. "I am not the one who left the documents out for all to see to begin with. Anyone could have stopped by your room and gone through the papers on the floor before I arrived, and I would have been none the wiser considering the state of your room. Quite possibly someone did, considering how time works in this place. If your notes were indeed the means by which Landel discovered Jill's identity and location, then you have no-one but yourself to blame."

In the Replica's reckless, furious mindset, he had been expecting Javert to crumple down into a panicking state of denial against the accusations, that all would be explained in truth and everything that had gone wrong since the night before would be righted.

Instead, Javert's verbal counterattack impacted Sechs like the backfire of a foolishly handled gun. The older man laid out his own explanation, a calm and logical answer that packed a far stronger punch than Sechs' own explosive accusations. The words rapidly invaded the Replica's system like a good dose of sedatives, smothering his rage and sending his head spinning with a fresh new wave of panic. The black drug immediately feasted on Sechs' inflamed guilt, sadistically echoing Javert's incriminating reply with no relent.

As Javert spoke, the beastly fury on the android's face vanished with a gasp that came out more as a pained growl than anything. Suddenly overwhelmed, Sechs lowered the machete and took another step back, his eyes wide and darting about in frenzied thought.

"Wha-... But-!" he stammered, avoiding eye contact with Javert as he gripped into his scalp with his free hand, "I didn't know the staff were coming in and-- I didn't even get to--"

No way! It couldn't have been Sechs' fault! He couldn't help that he was captured that night! He may have spread the note's information as a way to boost his ego, but he was sure he had been careful, and in the end he had good intentions! He wasn't the one to blame!

But Javert's retort stacked up against him, and before Sechs knew it, that terrible burden of guilt fell on his heart with the same crushing force as a ton of garbage falling upon the Scrapyard from Tiphares. To think that the Radioman and Second World's efforts to help everyone trapped in the institute may have been ruined by one stupid patient! That mishap could have lead to whatever fate befell Jill as well! Was everyone's chance at escape squandered now? Such responsibility was too much for Sechs to bear, not when he so desperately wanted to help end the institute's nefarious workings and return home!

Now Sechs was shouting as he almost doubled over from the strain, "No! NO! It CAN'T be my fault! I...!"

With little warning to his visitor, Sechs' rage suddenly flared up over his distress. He took a threatening step towards Javert, raising his machete once more and snarling at the man through a curtain of wild hair. "DAMNIT! Just-- Just give me back those notes already and get outta my face NOW!"

Perhaps he had overstepped his boundaries somewhat. As usual, the robot's emotions were easy to read. Javert had only meant to cause Sechs to calm down and reconsider; it seemed he had succeeded too well in the latter. It wasn't the first time that had happened. He doubted it would be the last--and that was a thought he didn't much want to dwell on.

He was tempted to hold onto the notes--what was the use of giving them to someone so easily affected by his own emotions, so quick to act without thinking? Still, he had given his word, and besides, the damage had likely already been done. With a faintly skeptical look on his face, he handed the papers over.

"Bear in mind the same thing could have happened before any of you happened upon the note upstairs," he said flatly. "If anything, Landel could have beaten all of you to the papers and left them there to reduce suspicion."

It was as much of an attempt at diffusing the overwhelming guilt as Sechs was going to get. Javert turned to leave; there was little point in staying longer. Still, he couldn't resist a parting shot just before the door slammed shut behind him.

"Have a care, next time you should think to accuse someone so rashly. I imagine there are patients here even less forgiving than I."

Sechs angrily snatched the notes out of Javert's hand and quickly stuffed them away into his desk. He didn't care whether he deserved possession of the notes or not, he just wanted this painful visit done and over with!

Slamming the drawer shut with a loud slam, Sechs turned back to face Javert with a growl; he may have been right about Landel finding the notes first, and there was still the possibility that one of the four patients who were with Sechs that night may have betrayed the papers, but Sechs didn't care, his fuse had already been shortened, if not blasted by now!

"I said SHUT UP and get your side-burned ass outta here!" he roared at Javert's retreating back.

The door slammed shut, leaving Sechs alone with the drug in his body and Javert's stinging words. Glaring at the empty spot where Javert once stood, all Sechs could do was wearily slouch and mutter his unheard reply, "Yeah, I'm gonna deal with one of those patients tonight actually..."

What felt like hours of releasing his rage later, Sechs finally came to his senses when he heard distant music followed by a familiar voice fizzling out of his radio (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1023465.html). Blinking and panting from exhaustion, Sechs found himself slouched over the edge of his bed, surrounded by the mauled pieces of his chair and the deep scars it left on the walls. The radio was powered on upon the desk, its message vague and not terribly comforting to its listener. The Replica's ears strained to understand, tingling with slight excitement at what he recognized as the sound of a shot gun being readied.

The radio man made no mentioning of Jill, no disasters against him or the Second World group. Just another question to add to the already huge pile of questions Sechs and everyone else already had. Eagle? Landel did mention that name once at one point didn't he? It was tough for Sechs to remember, what with all the sedatives that had been pumped into his arms throughout the day...

It didn't matter now. Sechs had finished expelling the worst of his rage and guilt over his visit with Javert. He was still heaving and panting from his fit, but his head felt clearer now, like a cloud of pollution had been cleared from his brain. It didn't change the fact that he may have been the one who failed to protect the information of the notes, but he couldn't do anything about it now. He had Recluse to deal with.

Ready for the night, Sechs rose to his feet and kicked the scattered parts of the chair out of his way. He quietly put on the remaining pieces of his armor, his emotions were far too deep inside to show on his blank face. He gathered his things; the axe, machete, one of the metal pipes from his first roommate and the teleportation ring. Sechs decided against bringing the radio, it seemed its announcer wasn't planning to broadcast anymore messages for the night. Lastly, Sechs picked up the flashlight and tested its power; it flickered slightly in his hand, but managed to keep up a steady beam of light, he would have to find new batteries for it soon.

Finally, Sechs put on the finishing touches to his battle gear: the single bold "6" on his temple. Remembering Michelangelo's words from the last night they spent together, Sechs was sure to correctly draw the number on his skin this time.

Ready at last, Sechs approached the door and slowly opened it. He was greeted by both the darkness of the hallway, and the sinister kind festering in his mind.

"Why won't you let me take over for ya?" the shadow hissed, its liquid form slithering just out of the corner of Sechs' eye. "You won't have to deal with all this pain or responsibility anymore. You're not fit for this, you weren't designed for it!"

Sechs winced and clamped his hand against the back of his cold neck. Not now! Leave me alone! He focused on that same light that helped him before, but its luminosity was hampered by the dread and guilt that shadowed his heart; it was barely enough to push the dark voice just out of ear shot.

"Alright then, but remember that once Recluse beats ya, I'll be there to finish ya off!" the drug whispered as Sechs stepped out into the hallway.

Edited 2011-01-02 02:31 (UTC)

Russia was slow to get started, still finishing his meal when the intercom announcements went off. The Eagle?

That message was hopeful at least. The Eagle was the coat of arms of the great empire of Russia. To hear that he was also one who disliked insubordination and wouldn't tolerate the doctor's useless antics... perhaps it was Ivan's boss after all!

If anyone could straighten out a place like this, he would be the man to do it. Russia was nothing if not supportive of his leaders, despite the conflicts and ever-changing politics. But if the doctor even feared the Eagle, was it because he'd stolen away all the countries (the important ones at least, more or less)? Or did the Eagle have something to do with why they were all stuck here? He was sure his boss wouldn't do that to him. The other countries yes, of course, especially if they'd been acting up or behaving poorly, but Ivan?

He really hoped the Eagle would be the good sign he'd been hoping for.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1017807.html?thread=74926031#t74926031)]

His roommate had been absent at dinner, something Sasuke wanted to say had been a common recurring phenomenon -- but his own memories of the past few days were blurred by too much sleep, unwilling and uncontrollable, and the number of dinners he'd slept away or simply couldn't recall finishing before waking up was more than he'd ever had in his lifetime. And this was after having spent nearly three years in Sound with Kabuto's cooking.

Sound was, for all its eerie similarities, easier to think of than his present prison. As much as it had been gilt and strung with the baubles of power, Otogakure had been a prison all the same. Sasuke had thought once that the motivations behind Landel were similar to those Orochimaru bore with respect to his so-called village -- too many things mapped into similarity -- but as much as Landel was a madman the power in play was more complex than the command that the Sannin had had.

Perspectives. Sakura had brought it up, and the word remained a quiet echo through his thoughts (in her voice, determined and convinced in a way Sasuke couldn't recall associating with her and yet -- so ridiculously typical. He had slid the flower between the pages of his unused journal and hidden it with the files and the meagre collection of belongings owned by the Uchiha in this world, whatever they were. The flower rested on the page above a photograph, the journal underneath a plastic toy badge; the things that had been given him in this Institute. Blades writ in plastic and paper. Someone else had given him a leaf, once, and tried to pin it to him.

Impossible for it to stick now. All for the best that it wasn't here (but then what was the purpose of keeping what Sakura had given him -- except to leave it was something, evidence or antagonism). Itachi's necklace rustled briefly through his fingers before he shoved everything back into its hiding place deep under the mattress.

Aidou would doubtless be here, temper and all, soon. Sasuke let the mattress fall back into place and straightened, grabbing what he needed and opening the door to wait for the vampire to show.

[for Aidou]

The tension that continued to undercut the intercom announcements complemented the vampire’s mood--or perhaps more like added to it. What, was the bastard under pressure? Oh, what a poor delicate, simpering baby. But what was this about doing well and ‘The Eagle’?

The question and other similar ones circled in his head even as he homed in on Sasuke’s cell, his first priority the moment the doors had unlocked.

This time, the boy had better be--

And indeed he was, as Aidou noticed while still some distance away. He could sense a presence before he got near enough to attribute the open door to Sasuke, and by the time he was within knocking distance, he was at least relieved that the boy was… well, conscious. As well as where he was supposed to be. Instead of knocking, however, he just came to a halt by the doorway. Pretensions were more or less gone that night. He was dressed for labour rather than convenience, and he had no compunction about having stuffed the shield in another pillowcase for easy handling. Presentation didn’t matter so much as success.

“Good,” said the vampire, but no more than that. There was another reason why he’d encouraged Zack to meet them elsewhere, besides giving him a chance to appraise Sasuke himself, and that was to update himself on what hadn’t been addressed earlier. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while: did you receive one of those rings during that rainy night?” It was better than saying ‘the night physics stopped applying to the doorways’.

[SORRY FOR CODING FAIL OTL /o\]

Good. For all his sometimes florid complaints, Aidou had a way of cutting to the point with perfect subtlety when he wanted. Sasuke's grip on his sword tightened briefly before he let it relax back to the standard ready-position. It was a precise example of the infuriating nature of Landel's control of consciousness and unconsciousness, time and again; not only did it jeapordise Sasuke's goals, but it ruined plans with allies that could mean the loss of a night's work. As much as Sasuke would have preferred not to care about the needs of others, it was unavoidable in the Institute to take up some semblance of teamwork.

Another gripe. Familiar like a thorn buried too deeply under the skin for removal; Sasuke worried at it and let it go. They had time tonight, and something would be done.

Aidou's question might have been more expected had they had a chance to converse a few days ago, as it were, Sasuke had given little thought to the ring. He knew enough about it to be aware of how it worked -- and how it might have been useful -- but he'd travelled so little in the nights since that he hadn't had a chance to test it at all. And now that he thought about it, he hadn't had a chance to locate his apparent cousin since then, either. The night he'd learned of its use had been ...

It was as if the Institute were playing him for parlour tricks. Sasuke bit down something sharp and acrid (suspicions -- what if --) and nodded sharply instead, turning fully toward the doorway and lifting his left hand enough for it to be obvious that he'd received one. If Aidou was asking about it, he likely either hadn't received one himself or preferred someone else use theirs for this particular task, something Sasuke was willing enough to do. He had yet to find a successful alternative (and that irritated; another thorn).

"I have yet to use it, but if it works as intended I believe it will be useful for our purposes."

_{[I SAW NOTHING!]}

Aidou disliked others failing on him when he had extended to them a certain amount of expectation, but he disliked nonchalance even more; the tension he saw in Sasuke pleased a part of him, because he knew he wasn’t the only one frustrated and hungering for progress. And a greater part of him knew he didn’t need to doubt that would be the case until they were both free, because ultimately they wanted the same thing, were facing the same obstacles.

Which meant he checked his ire and the impulse to say, You couldn’t have told me that sooner?

For the same reason he hadn’t done more the night prior, he let it be so that silence filled the space where his reply would have been.

So Sasuke did have one of the rings. The answer would have been ‘yes’ or ‘no’ either way, and Aidou had already considered each option. It was good, an opportunity to see what Landel intended by them. The excitement their sudden appearance had caused may have faded some from public view, but they were still a notable and very real question mark. But even after much thought, to use them?

His gaze was fixated on the small red stone, memorizing its contours. “If,” he said, quieter than before but with a distant, hard quality to his tone. “If you use it, I want to hear about it. But it’d be ill-advised to factor it into arrangements unless we know for certain it’s not a ploy.” Which they never would, Aidou felt, but it was Sasuke‘s choice if he wanted to be a guinea pig. The noble wanted to know more about the ring because it was another piece to the puzzle, not because he had the least desire to make use of it himself. Even looking at it, he felt a hatred for the thing, and for Landel who acted like a zoo keeper throwing sweets to the discontented animals. And the dumb beasts would gobble them up.

“…Sasuke,” the vampire uttered, followed by a short pause as if it were an afterthought he hadn’t meant to voice aloud. “I hope you won’t do anything rash.”

The way Aidou phrased his response left the intimation of choice and almost suggested at the luxury of discovering more information than had already been given and shared. Sasuke was reasonably certain that the rings worked as they had been intended; it was not in Landel's modus operandi to provide them with tools that would give him no entertainment. Whether there were undesirable side-effects was something nobody would know until well past the time that the immediate use of the rings could be recognised, and though Sasuke was fully capable of patience, he was also fully aware of when he was willing to bet against it.

Caution had its role. Sasuke had been unconscious and useless, the most cautious activity possible in this place, for far too long. Aidou had to be aware of both that fact as applied to Sasuke and the danger of resisting danger in this place. Sasuke expected that much, with that peculiar familiarity borne of necessity.

So that warning narrowed his attention for a moment. "I don't doubt there will be a price for its usage." Nothing here had come free yet, from the extra breaths of Sharingan he'd discovered after losing his sight to the map that had come at the cost of rotting for two nights. "But there is little point in ignoring what is available for the sake of caution.

"Have you heard any suggestion that these don't work as claimed?"

… Was he abandoning speed for caution? Despite how uncertain he’d been about Sasuke lately, the matter-of-fact comment was enough to touch something in him. So the boy would use the thing and accept the consequences, would he? Aidou wondered if Sasuke would have said the same thing a month ago, or if he honestly believed pandering to his enemies was worth it.

A month ago, would Aidou still have refused to do the same?

“It's so easy for your own intentions to unravel to nothing, or for your rules to become less concrete. When one has a clear goal in mind, the method through which to reach it can sometimes become... fuzzy. Am I correct?"

At his side, his free hand clenched. He already knew the answer. He would never, ever have his way through debased assistance. His shadow was wrong. Landel was wrong. And it wasn’t caution, but pride, pure and simple. He’d survive just as long as someone like Sasuke, but not at the cost of his dignity. As it stood, the rings appeared for all intents and purposes like bait, like the weak path.

“I don’t need to,” Aidou answered. “They’re tainted just by the source they come from.” Fruit from a poisoned tree. If Sasuke did do something rash, the noble couldn’t very well stop him… but there was a chance his usage could become an issue. Landel had never given a gift that provided a verifiable advantage to a select number of prisoners before--there was no denying that such a precedent could be very dangerous. Either way, unless Sasuke had gone to the basement without his knowledge, the ring wouldn’t be directing them in their intended direction. Releasing a breath, he asked a different question. “If you broke the jewel now, where would it take you?”

Knowledge was still knowledge, especially having this “Eagle” business up in the air.

Didn't need to -- there was an interesting assertion. One way or another they were all tainted by this place, from the food they ate to the water they drank. Was it so large a leap from eating what was offered here and using the tools they had been given? Perhaps it was habit ingrained from Sound, but Sasuke had learned enough from the sacrifices he had made for his goals to be aware that the price paid would never be within comfort.

Then again, those selfsame goals had been ... Sasuke dropped his hand back to his side, tension abruptly written through his frame in unwitting mirroring of Aidou's movements. Had he sacrificed too much on the altar of blind intent -- had there even been another option (but there must have been, had he simply been more) -- and was there any other, here, with every step dogged by one interested overlord or the other?

Landel had violated the integrity of Sasuke's shinobi body and above and beyond that the sanctity of Sasuke's brother's body. It was too many cards played already. If there was worse to come (and Sasuke doubted there was) -- if there was, he was sick of simply letting it happen for free. Aidou could take the luxury of selecting what he did and didn't take (and maybe that was related to how he ate, here, less direct and more selective to begin with). Sasuke was accustomed to using no more than what he had.

"Where I was the night the doorways first shifted," he answered, brief and disappointing. "It was a room neither my companion nor I were able to recognise before the night ended."

What a topic they were getting into. Perhaps best if they left it alone. Aidou… didn’t know how to resolve his own feelings, let alone someone else’s, someone so different from him to begin with.

He turned instead to the persistent dilemma that was Sasuke’s blindness. Although the boy had grown more accustomed to his disability since those first few days, it could still be problematic, as in the case of a battle, or in this case, being unable to identify his surroundings.

“Hm, maybe I’ve been there. What could you tell about it?” he asked. Who knew what could happen--if they didn’t know anything about the ring itself, they could at least figure out where it might lead, if Landel’s fanciful little teleporter actually worked as advertised. He knew almost all of the first two floors by reputation, if not personal experience. From what he’d learned from Hime, though, people had ended up in all sorts of unusual places… “Anyway, Zack’s waiting. We should talk while we move.”

_{[to here]}

Recluse was just pulling on his black leather gloves as the doors finally unlocked. Landel was putting on quite a little show of immaturity tonight, but he couldn't be bothered to care. He would consider how to exploit this later. For now, he was focused only on putting Sechs in his place. He put a knife in his boot, another at his belt, laid out his sword on his bed, and, because he never wanted to come unprepared to a fight, his pistol into the back of his belt. He doubted he would need it, but if Sechs continued to do nothing but anger him, then he preferred such individuals to be assuredly dead.

He collected his sword, opened the door to his cell, and strode out into the black hallways. Revenge, no matter its importance, was always so satisfying to reap.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1016035.html?thread=75106275#t75106275)]

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