Day 57: Patient Library (Fourth Shift)

[razing_phoenix]

That movie had been far more depressing than Guy had been ready for. It might not have been as bad if it hadn't all been based on real events, but knowing that people had tried so hard to escape only for so many to die was rather sobering

Comments

[spandexorgtfo]

[np! ♥]

Kratos had been in the process of re-reading his letter for perhaps the third or fourth time (this time particularly lingering over the blacked-out text- what names and times were so important that they required censoring?) when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another man attempting to read over his shoulder. Any other person might have remained blissfully unaware, but he had always been sensitive about possible intrusions into his privacy, almost to the point of paranoia, and had therefore trained himself to always be on edge, even when he had every right to relax.

If he had just been reading one of the books available in the library, Kratos might have simply sighed and attempted to ignore it, but this was different; this letter was personal. It was completely off-limits, especially to complete strangers who had no business knowing his business.

This called for a confrontation. His eyes looked up and away from the letter as he huffed in irritation. The letter was folded back over in one, crisp motion as Kratos then turned his head slowly to direct a blank, accusing stare usually reserved for his son in his most cringe-worthy moments in the other man's direction.

"Did you need something?" he asked evenly.

[sheepwood]

Whoops, caught. Guybrush stiffened in surprise for half a second, then donned a mildly apologetic smile. He'd never been so good at subtlety.

Though he hadn't been able to see much, a few things were clear from the eyeful he got. Lots of censored parts, only certain people getting them- they were either invitations to a secret club or a less personal form of the same torture the institute provided with visiting hour. If the latter was the case, Guybrush reasoned he ought to keep a lookout for a bill coming to him from Schafer, Purcell and Gilbert - Attorneys at Law. If it was the former, he wasn't sure he wanted to be invited anyway. Personal time with General Aguilar (or anyone else who had no qualms with torturing hostages) didn't rank high on his list of enjoyable activities.

"I was just wondering what all these letters that were being handed out were about," he explained. "Are they from people we really know, or people they say we're supposed to know? I didn't get one, and asking the soldiers for anything has gotten me more physical punishment than answers so far."

[spandexorgtfo]

Kratos continued to stare at the other man for a few more seconds, as if he didn't fully believe his reasons for snooping around into other patients' private affairs. Finally, he unfolded the letter and glanced down at it.

"I suppose an apt description of it would be the poor man's visitor," he said as he scanned the contents again. "You're spared the physical presence, but that's about the only consolation." In some ways, receiving a letter was actually worse: for all he knew, this had been forged, and something had happened to the woman who claimed she was his wife. Hurt again on his account: that would be unacceptable.

He shook his head. "It's really nothing to get excited over. The Institute has gone through the trouble of conveniently obscuring any part of the letter that would actually be useful."

[sheepwood]

"Guess I shouldn't have expected otherwise," Guybrush said, rolling his eyes. Even if there was a way to send an S.O.S. to someone outside of the institute, there was no way of telling them exactly where they were or how to help them if the soldiers filtered out all the useful parts. It made sense, but was still annoying. Knowing how these things went, the chances were that any letter that made it past the front doors would either be censored beyond recognition, or serve to make the patients look even crazier. It was a losing battle either way.

Still, if he could get word outside, it'd be worth it to try. As much as the hopeless situation said otherwise, he was still confident that Elaine was out there somewhere, coming up with a cunning plan for overthrowing the staff and getting them home. What Guybrush needed to do was weaken it from the inside, or possibly escape so he could help his Cuddlecakes. Maybe one before the other.

"I should probably be grateful I didn't get anything," he continued. "The only person who came to visit me was my court-appointed attorney. I really don't need him to remind me again of all the crimes I supposedly committed. Somehow, every single one of the nurses and soldiers knows the lengthy list. And yet, the majority seem conveniently unaware of the weird occurrences that happen at night. Teleporting doors, talking shadows, brainwashed patients, demonic rats- you'd think someone would snap eventually and spill the beans on how this place works."

[spandexorgtfo]

"Oh dear, they must have all been truly heinous crimes if all those people were willing to commit such a list to memory," Kratos said wryly as the corner of his mouth twisted upward. He knew nothing about this stranger, but a person still had to provide a reason to be associated so readily with crime. He himself was supposedly guilty of murdering or harming someone - the details were not particularly important - but it had come as no surprise since he had always had far too much blood on his hands. "Unless this is all a massive misjudgment of character."

Somehow, he doubted that was likely.

"And it is true that the staff's devotion to the operation they've constructed here is rather unnatural. Either Aguilar is dangling a particularly effective threat over everyone's heads, or the pay is otherworldly." Kratos folded his arms, frowning lightly. "Even if someone were to snap, though, I doubt anyone in this world would believe stories of teleporting doors or demonic rats without actual, tangible proof. And you would have to be outrageously stupid to allow that sort of proof to escape."

Of course, there was always the chance. Holes had to exist; no prison could be perfect. The problem was that they were well concealed- and that the patients' only outside aid was shady at best and more questionable than ever now with the appearance of Landel.

[sheepwood]

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Guybrush had to admit that the guy had a point: even some of his own adventures- before the embellishments he added for dramatic effect- sounded too unbelievable to be true when actually put to paper. He'd been called crazy on more than one occasion by a drunken scallywag or two, but that was usually because of his questionable methods for accomplishing a near-impossible task rather than the near-impossible task itself. When you lived in the Caribbean during a time of voodoo, dread pirates, giant man-eating manatees, and courtroom souvenir emporiums, you started to believe just about anything that was handed to you, even if it was demonic rats and teleporting doors.

"As for my crimes, I'm supposedly here for ones Brian Moriarty, the guy they think I am, committed. As if making 'latest masterpiece of fantasy storytelling' wasn't enough," --air quotes were a little harder to do when one hand was a hook, but he did them anyway- "apparently he was a stalker, which I'm not. I'm a lot of things- mostly a pirate- but I'm not a stalker."

[spandexorgtfo]

"Better that than a murderer, I suppose," Kratos said in a deadpan. "Of course, neither are desirable stigmas."

Yes, as if simply being delusional wasn't enough, they had to add on all these other things like some sort of twisted security blanket. After all, even if anyone here did manage to escape, they'd all have some sort of sordid, criminal shadow hanging over them that would make it highly difficult if not impossible to find sympathy within the rest of society.

And of course this man was a pirate. How could he not be, equipped with that stereotypical hook for a hand? He also seemed very proud of the fact- reason enough for Kratos to frown. As a former knight, a healthy respect for law and order had been beaten into him from an early age, even if he had engaged in plenty of acts of deception, theft, and property destruction since then. (The difference, his mind argued, was that he hadn't had a choice.)

"In any case, who are you, if not this 'Brian Moriarty'?" He nearly prodded the man again about his visual eavesdropping, but decided against it; it would be redundant and petty. "In my experience, it's a brave man who willingly admits to being a pirate in front of a complete stranger."

[sheepwood]

"I'm not exactly used to hiding my swashbuckling status," Guybrush admitted with an crooked smile. Sure, it came in handy on occasion to pretend he was someone's long-lost nephew or that some of his alleged crimes had been complete misunderstandings, but most of the time, he introduced himself with his full title. On the Caribbean, it was a sign he was an adventurer, a rogue, a man with the sea in his heart who could sail into the sunset and never be seen again, save for on wanted posters and in the back cover of any of his books at the Phatt City Library.

On the other hand, ever since his arrival at the institute, he'd noticed an unusual number of attorneys, prosecutors, and general lawmen floating around. While it probably wasn't in his best interest to admit he was a pirate, he'd already done it so many times that it couldn't be taken back now. Besides, they already had a common enemy. What were a few petty crimes between friends and acquaintances when faced with the horrors the staff presented them on a daily basis? Demon rats, porcelain death traps, food more likely to dissolve a stomach than satiate it- they had bigger problems to deal with.

Guybrush buffed his hook on the front of his shirt proudly. "I'm Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate™! And you are...?"

[spandexorgtfo]

"Mm." A 'Mighty Pirate' sounded like the sort of man that he would be hired to bring in, alive or dead. That would be conveniently ignored, though: Guybrush was right in that they had a common enemy far more important than individual biases. Besides, they were likely from different worlds, which made passing judgment entirely not worth it.

On the other hand, a Guybrush Threepwood sounded like a very expensive, fancy broom, like something that Raine might use--hadn't she once decided that a deck brush made for an acceptable weapon? Women...he would never fully understand their logic.

"I'm Kratos Aurion." Kratos paused and then added, "A mercenary."

[sheepwood]

"Mercenary?" Guybrush repeated. For someone with a record long enough to fill a few pages, he'd surprisingly met few mercenaries and bounty-hunter types in all his years of piracy. In fact, Morgan, as a Mighty Pirate Hunter™, was really the only one of note, but that might have been his personal bias talking, given that she was both a good friend and his biggest fan. He reasoned anyone who knew more about his own life than he did probably deserved the title of 'Most Notable Mercenary I've Met.'

"So what all do you do as a mercenary, Kratos?" he asked, curious. As far as he knew, mercenaries and bounty hunters were a little like- maybe not alike in the sense of hunting Mighty Pirates™, but there had to be more than a few similarities.

[spandexorgtfo]

It was truly remarkable how many people seemed to be unaware of what his occupation entailed. Granted, 'mercenary' hardly explained much, but he would have assumed that they would be more commonplace. It only seemed natural, after all, for a fighter looking for money (and often with nothing better to do) to go ahead and hire himself out for whatever odd jobs he could find that made use of his skills, regardless of the world he came from.

"What do I do?" Kratos shrugged. "So long as I'm paid, I'll do the job. It's normally just bodyguard work, but occasionally I've been called upon to dispose of bandits and the like."

[sheepwood]

Okay, so maybe Kratos' job was more similar to a Mighty Pirate Hunter™ than Guybrush initially thought. In fact, his 'so long as I'm paid' mantra was something right up Morgan's alley. At least she'd had a change of heart. Too bad she lost her life over it.

He still didn't know what he was going to do about that- there was little more disappointing than finally managing to defeat the bad guys and escape from a place of imprisonment, only to find oneself dead anyway. Maybe he'd luck out and the resurrection powers of the institute would carry over to the Caribbean.

"So... I'm guessing we probably wouldn't be friends outside of this place then, huh?" he asked innocently.

[spandexorgtfo]

Kratos' eyebrow arched in the perfect picture of mild patronization. "That depends. If someone were to hire me for the purpose of bringing you to justice or if you were to interfere with a job of mine, then no, we wouldn't be friends. Otherwise, I don't see why I would need to concern myself with a pirate's business."

Actually, he usually disposed of pirates on sight, but only because he normally had nothing better to do. Logic dictated that he do society a service (as a knight should) if the opportunity presented itself, and Kratos wasn't heartless enough to demand money every time he swung a sword.

At least, he reasoned, he gave them a chance to either run or repent before he cut them down. No one ever seemed to take him seriously, so their demise was really their own fault.

[sheepwood]

Guybrush swallowed the small lump in his throat, getting the feeling that Kratos would hunt down even his idol for the right price; whether or not he would regret it afterward was unknown. Guybrush considered it a good thing that most of the people who wanted him out of the way were either dead or completely broke, having blown all their funds on grog, cheap floozies, or fancy clothing more suitable for a person with said funds. While he had a knack for getting himself out of trouble, he had to admit that when a price was put on his head, it made everything ten times more complicated.

"I don't see why you wouldn't want to concern yourself with a pirate's business," Guybrush replied smugly. "We're pretty interesting people, if I do say so myself. Masters of the seas, skilled in the art of insult sword-fighting, with a tune in their hearts and a mug of grog in any hand they happen to have left- yep, pirates are probably some of the most lively and colorful people I know."

[spandexorgtfo]

"--spoken like a true pirate." He allowed himself a fleeting flash of amusement before Kratos' face settled into its usual blank arrangement. "The ones I've had the...fortune of meeting were sadly never so intriguing, I'm afraid."

Aifread was the only one who might possibly match the description Guybrush had given, but even then, he had only met the man vicariously through his son. Lloyd had unknowingly assisted the pirate in some financial matters and come out for the worse; the story alone was enough to convince Kratos that if he ever made his way home and met Aifread, he would also introduce the pirate to the edge of his sword. It wouldn't make things right, but it would make him feel better.

He sighed in mock distress. "Regrettably, none of them seemed to enjoy my company much either."