Day 53: Intercom, Evening

[damned_intercom]

The commotion just after the intercom's jingle displayed the same kind of erratic energy that the Head Doctor had been exuding all day.

"Come on, get those papers out of the way - no, I don't...! Ah! Good evening, everyone, and I hope you all enjoyed the activities we had to

Comments

[for_a_song]

"Unfortunately, there seems to be an 'every man for himself' mentality around here," he replied, settling into his chair to poke a little at his dinner. It looked fairly edible, at least. "I don't really understand it, either. We'd probably get much further if everyone would cooperate." Of course, he realized his own thoughts on the matter were a bit biased. He understood camaraderie, craved it. Not everyone did, and not everyone was capable of putting the welfare of the whole above their own personal well-being. "I'm glad you found someone who could treat your arm." He wasn't really sure what could have been done beyond what the institute had already done, but the proof was right there. His roommate's shoulder was undeniably better than it had been the last time he'd seen him.

"Not as productive as I would have liked. We got stopped in one of the hallways upstairs by one of our fellow inmates. I think they must have brainwashed her. There was a note on the bulletin today that I'm sure was her." He hadn't responded since he hadn't actually been injured by anything she'd done, but he hoped she wasn't taking it too hard. Of course, the fact that she'd been clearly robotic last night was a little unnerving, but if this place could make shadows come to life, it could probably turn girls into robots for a night, too. "It wasn't the best night for making progress." The less said about those shadows, the better, really.

[girlsandgadgets]

With a silent nod in understanding, Edgar continued his work. He thought for a moment he might ask Gren if he'd had an encounter with his own shadow; however, he held his tongue. If said encounter was anything similar to the one he and Natalia had experienced, it was likely to be unpleasant, drudging up words and memories meant to inflict doubt. It was better to assume he was one of the unlucky ones and not mention it at all for now- not when the wounds were still fresh.

"I've heard of the brainwashed patients being set to guard the halls at night," Edgar said quietly, "though I've been fortunate in not yet having to face one directly yet. It's a rocky situation... You defend yourself and risk hurting a patient who is being controlled somehow; you run and will possibly be pursued and injured in the escape; you do nothing, and they continue to be enslaved."

He paused, touching the screwdriver to his lips idly as he pondered both his work and his words. The third one wasn't an option as far as he was concerned, though information about Landel was scarce. And what was known was apparently held by people who either felt ignorance would keep others safe or simply didn't care to share it. Either way, they were hindering progress.

"I think I'll try my luck on the second floor tonight," Edgar said after a moment. "I could use another set of batteries for my light before it completely dies, anyway."

[for_a_song]

"She said she had orders to keep us out, so I assume that's what it was," he replied. "We got involved to try and help someone out, but I think all we managed to do in the end was serve as a big distraction while other people went around her. Well, I say 'we,' but it was mostly the guy I was with. I don't seem to be very useful without a rifle," he admitted a little ruefully. Sure, he could hit things, if they were in range, but close quarters combat was something he wanted to avoid if he could. And he didn't think walking up and hitting the robot girl with his shovel would have ended in success. "They're probably counting on that hesitation. It's a good psychological tactic." Of course, not everyone would care whether someone had been brainwashed or not, but for those that did, hesitation to act could be the difference between a good outcome and a very bad one.

"I hope you get further than I have," he replied as he turned back to his dinner, ignoring most of it in favor of the pie. He'd been yanked from home and stuffed into some strange, twisted version of a mental institution. He could eat desert first if he wanted to. "I'm not sure if I'm going to try it again." Two nights worth of frustration had him wondering if it was worth another go this evening. "How's your toy coming along?" Despite his skepticism when Edgar had told him what he planned to make, Gren was curious to see how it was turning out.

[girlsandgadgets]

Edgar nodded again in agreement. For many, the nightly dangers of the institute were enough to wear on them; however, there were a number of people who wouldn't find the physical threat of a monster guarding the halls to be an obstacle, even when poorly equipped. For them, Landel had apparently learned to switch tactics, playing to their sense of morality instead as he placed fellow patients in the corridors. Being kept on edge with enchanted doors and living shadows only added to the madness.

Landel knew his craft well, but he had opposition of his own. Not everyone was so easy to break; with the tools the Head Doctor himself provided, it wouldn't be long before his collection of patients had gathered a small army to defeat him.

"Well, I'd say it's coming along nicely," Edgar answered, always glad for a subject change that resulted in talking about machines. He packed up his toolbox and returned it to his closet, pleased with his work for the evening. "I'll have to wait until nightfall to be sure it works- getting the attention of the nurses now would be beyond disastrous- but I believe it'll get the job done. Next time Landel throws a beast in our path, I'll be ready."

He propped his new tool in his closet for now, searching his collected supplies for anything that might work as the final piece. Nothing appropriate- appropriate enough for him, anyway. If he was going to bother to do something, he was going to do it right. "All it really needs is a good strap to make carrying it when crossing walls a little easier. I think I know where I can find one upstairs, too."

[for_a_song]

Gren nodded. "That's good to hear." He was probably right about firing it up while the nurses were still around. While they seemed to be fairly blasé about leaving the things collected from around the institute where they hid them, he really doubted they'd ignore a patient with a potentially very destructive weapon. "Although I hope you won't have to use it too often." Given the things went around this place, that was wishful thinking, but still.

He abandoned his dinner for the time being, getting up and gathering his things for the night, stretching his injured arm experimentally. It was definitely better than it had been, but it was still going to be awhile before that ache faded completely. Thankfully, it wasn't likely to slow him down much, either. "I'm definitely going to have to find myself something better than a shovel if I want to be of use to anyone out there."