Day 55: Cafeteria

[mustbethesuit]

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[herr_inspektor]

Inspector Lunge was already awake and sitting on his bed when the soldier walked in. So that was General Aguilar: no pomp, no show, cut straight to the point as if with a scalpel. Yes, that was about right, clinical and dry and with a real sense of purpose, of an end, yet there was an edge of emotion to it, though one quite unlike any that Landel had chosen to display. Disappointment, faint disgust. Not quite so clinical after all, but hardly the emotional, scripted act he was used to hearing. And the feeling that had come with it, of the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, as though suddenly his every move was being monitored. You’re sharp, aren’t you, Aguilar? You want all of this under complete control- not necessarily for the thrill of it, but for the sheer damn efficiency.

Fascinating. Such change. Such focus.

Lunge would have just loved to meet him personally.

Rats trapped in a maze. He’d used that expression himself countless times before, but it was a surprise to hear it from the speakers. So they weren’t simply lab-

[girlsandgadgets]

The morning arrived without its usual greeting, the announcement just as night faded the only warning for the patients of what was now Aguilar's institute. As soon as he was awake enough to be aware of his surroundings, Edgar felt something was off- it was most likely the collar of his shirt, which was not only buttoned all the way to the top, but had buttons on it in the first place. He sat up, pulling the sheets from him: his entire outfit had been changed. Gone were the smiley shirts and loose pants, replaced with a blue top and black pants, complete with belt. In his lap- it had apparently been on his chest- was a beret and a set of tags.
Edward March
C Class
53180080M
There was barely time to raise an eyebrow to the changes before soldiers marched into the room. Apparently, Aguilar wasn't bluffing: his changes were being instated immediately. His words from the end of the night were of interest, as they confirmed he did indeed know of what was going on at Landel's- not only knew, but was in on it in some way. From the sound

[herr_inspektor]

Lunge had only been scrubbing- mildly and rather ineffectually, but then he didn't particularly see the point in trying especially hard, so long as he was doing something- when someone came to kneel down nearby. Young, male, blond; though he was reminded of Howl, the man wasn't anyone he recognised according to his database

[girlsandgadgets]

Edgar squeezed some of the excess water from his sponge, quickly realizing he had too much in it. Cleaning was one of those areas where the king was admittedly ill-practiced. The maids were a comfort of home he missed during his travels, but especially now that he was imprisoned: they not only did a fine job of straightening his messes, but they were far more attractive than the majority of the nursing staff. There was no reason to even compare them to the soldiers that now loomed in every room.

"At least he seems more direct than Landel," Edgar replied, a little surprised the other man had answered him at all. He'd expected no one to be in the mood for chit-chat. "I can't say I approve of his methods any more than those of the Head Doctor, however."

He halted his work for a moment to give a proper greeting. "Forgive my manners. I'm Edgar."

[herr_inspektor]

Edgar: no, the name still didn't ring a bell. No matter. Even if the man didn't have any obvious, immediate knowledge attached to him in the same way that Lelouch had when they'd first met, there was still a good chance he would make for a useful witness, at the very least. The Institute was so vast and its offerings so varied that it would have been ridiculous to try and explore it all by himself.

He held out the hand that wasn't holding the brush; he assumed the soldiers weren't so strict as to enforce a rule of silence, but it was worth having a back-up just in case someone came by. "Inspector Lunge. It's a pleasure to meet you, Edgar. And yes, Aguilar does seem to be more direct. Order and punishment: precisely what one would expect from a military man." Precise and military ever being the watch-words for the day. There was nothing more obligatorily military than being made to clean the floor with basic equipment; Lunge had to admit, he was almost surprised that they weren't being made to use toothbrushes

[girlsandgadgets]

An inspector? Landel- and Aguilar, Edgar assumed- certainly went for variety in the selection of prisoners. If they were being tested for aptitude in survival and combat situations, it would made sense to use people from all walks of life: soldiers, civilians, specialists, and royalty. Even someone without specific training could prove useful in the right situation- they only needed to be given the chance. It was unfortunate that the institute had to be the proving ground for some, though. There were those who could not protect themselves, and it seemed there weren't many who were willing to go out of their way to help such potential casualties

[herr_inspektor]

The loss of sanity: that certainly would have seemed the obvious goal towards which the Institute was designed to inch, with all of its traps and tricks and illusions, and with it came the attractive irony of being using a mental hospital as a cover. Were the military exploring psychological torture? Practising methods? Was it even possible to say, with the vast amount of data they had, and with the vast amount they were missing? As much as he could guess, Lunge still had to admit that he needed to ask either Aguilar or Landel face-to-face to get any sort of certain answer

[girlsandgadgets]

In a manner true to his profession, Lunge pressed for more information. Edgar couldn't say he was surprised, though he'd not expected it to come so soon after introductions. As someone who didn't enjoy wasting time- and in a place where time remaining was uncertain, it was a good practice- he couldn't argue with the inspector's methods

[herr_inspektor]

Tainted food? Lunge leaned forward, an flash of interest in his eyes. Now there was a clever way of administering a punishment; most people would be eating before they left for the night, as a way of keeping their strength up for whatever challenges awaited them out in the hallways. It explained why he hadn't felt anything strange himself. And since Landel had only ever started his experiments at night, well, who would think that the daytime could hold such dangers? Wasn't the day a time for rest and recovery

[girlsandgadgets]

There were a few reasons Edgar didn't mention magic very often in conversations. For one, he wasn't as familiar with it as he should have been, neither in study nor in practice. For most of his life, he'd thought of the War of the Magi as not much more than a myth: beings who could conjure the elements and use them as weapons with which to destroy entire armies? It all seemed absurd, impossible- not like technology. He hadn't put much thought into it, even when he heard the rumors of the Imperial witch. Even then, he had little faith in what he'd heard... until he saw it for himself

[herr_inspektor]

Lunge had heard a little about magic in his time here, first from the ninja woman in the upstairs kitchen, and more recently had experienced it all too closely for his liking; Howell's hallway monster and the woman in the Sun Room might have been able to produce creations he could go on assuming were purely illusory (a trick of the light, a trick of the mind, it isn't real), but the other night he'd felt it in full force. It had been, unfortunately, impossible to deny the existence of the hundreds of blades that had rained down on L, Marc and himself, impossible to believe that the nick he'd gotten as one barely skimmed his shoulder was all in his head

[girlsandgadgets]

Lunge brought up a point Edgar had told himself more than once: the institute was full of tricks designed to make the patients doubt everything they knew, to push them closer to losing themselves to the identity they'd been assigned. But why? What purpose did it serve to rob someone in such a way? What was there to Landel, Aguilar, or anyone else to gain? Edgar found neither prospect- of being a mere shell of himself or being killed- acceptable in any way. As much as he liked to think others would do the same, he couldn't deny the thinning numbers. Patients disappeared daily, their spots filled with new arrivals. How many more would there be