Day 58: Lt. General Charles Berg's Office [Second Shift]

[das_berg]

Upon hearing the shift change, and Harrington's subsequent announcement, Berg fought the urge to rub at his eyes. While he understood that neither himself nor Aguilar had the time to do something like work the intercom system during the day, sometimes he thought Harrington enjoyed his new responsibility a bit too much

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[deadlyjuliet]

Grell Sutcliffe.

How strange that something so simple as his real name could stop him dead in his tracks. Grell had become so accustomed to the officers and soldiers and nurses and orderlies here adhering stubbornly to the Geoffrey Burnett falsehood that having someone drop it so casually was something of a shock. The god straightened, giving the uniformed man before him a cautious stare.

"Yes...Indeed." At least he had manners and knew better than to try calling Grell a "mister." Carefully, he stepped forward again, easing himself into the offered seat. He's here to kill you. These men are all here to kill you. Grell started at the sudden appearance of Madam Red's voice, glancing over his shoulder but finding nothing but air. Trust him and you'll die, Grell. Betrayed as you betrayed me.

"I know," he hissed as the voices melted back into the ether. With a heavy sigh, the redhead turned back to this stranger before him. "And? Discuss away if you must, but answer me one thing: if you know who I am, you know how very cross I shall be when I get my powers back and how very much in danger you shall be, yes?"

[das_berg]

When Miss Sutcliffe calmed down and took a seat, Berg sat as well. He placed his hands on top of the desk's surface, lacing his fingers together. Although the subject seemed to hiss something, the Lieutenant General didn't get the chance to ask for clarification. Instead, the redhead pursued their current line of discussion -- with an added threat, no less.

There was no doubt that the being in front of him usually possessed powers most mortals could only dream of harnessing. That was one of the reasons Miss Sutcliffe had been brought to Landel's in the first place, after all.

"I can certainly imagine," Berg replied with a politely neutral expression. "You'd have a lot more people than just myself to take care of if you're after revenge, though. This project involved the effort and expertise of many talented individuals over a lengthy period of time. You'll have your work cut out for you, particularly if you hope to get your powers back."

He didn't doubt what Miss Sutcliffe was capable of under normal circumstances. Thankfully, they had solid means of keeping their subjects under control -- and without Dr. Landel's assistance, at that.

"I apologize," Berg added. "I haven't introduced myself, have I? I'm Lieutenant General Charles Berg. It's a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to speak with you face-to-face." He gestured to the steaming mug in front of Grell. "Help yourself to some coffee if you'd like. I understand they don't serve any during mealtimes." A pity, really, though he understood why they couldn't afford to needlessly indulge everyone.

[deadlyjuliet]

Bureaucracy was, as always, one giant mess of bosses and subordinates and far too many people doing useless things. Grell gave an exaggerated sigh and threw up his hands. If only he'd thought to take that plastic spoon-fork abomination, he could shove one into this man's eye and be done with him at least. Sadly, all he had was the pin on his beret and his glasses which, unfortunately, were much harder to stab through people's chests than some media might lead one to believe.

"Never underestimate the tenacity of a woman on a mission," he shot back, flopping back into the chair. It was well worth knowing that this man wasn't the head of it all. Not that Grell hadn't figured it out. He wasn't the tall dark statuesque Spaniard that Grell had been imagining after that spiel last night and the god somewhat recognized his voice from other announcements. Not the top dog and perhaps his words were a hint that between Aguilar and whatever it was that took away their powers was another level they hadn't even dreamed of yet. Good to know. Very good. Grell would have a lovely time chopping everyone's heads off and painting the walls with their pretty blood.

The thought of this Lieutenant General grabbing his throat after having his jugular slashed, the red spray decorating the walls as he flailed and clung to the last few seconds of life brought a smile to Grell's lips. He relaxed and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the seat with his hands folded in his lap. "I'm English, dear. We don't drink coffee. Although the gesture is appreciated."

And interesting. Charles Berg was being most amicable for someone in charge of keeping them all imprisoned here. "So? What is this all then? Looking to have a little 'how are you faring, why aren't you dead yet' chat or is there something more to this?"

[das_berg]

Ah, those English. Given the fact the very nation itself had declined his offer yesterday, Berg shouldn't have been surprised by Ms. Sutcliffe's response, but it was still strange to him. How did people in that country even function?

"Fair enough," the officer responded, taking a sip of his own drink. "I don't keep tea in here, unfortunately, but I can pour you a fresh cup if you change your mind." While he could have considered getting some specifically for instances like these, Berg simply didn't drink the stuff. He'd much rather brew a pot of coffee for the both of them and leave it at that. This wasn't some cafe, after all.

Regardless, Ms. Sutcliffe's questions were reasonable enough. Berg gave a small chuckle at the death god's wording. "Nothing all that exciting, I'm afraid," he said. "I mostly wanted to take the time to discuss whatever you wanted, answer whatever questions you might have -- well, to the best of my ability, at least. Obviously, I can't divulge any confidential information."

After setting his coffee down, however, he fixed the redhead with a polite smile. "But before we get into any of that, I'll admit I do have one question for you," Berg added. "Is there anything you can tell me about the man named Marc? He's currently the individual who's been broadcasting radio messages at night, and I'm curious to know what others may have heard about him."

[deadlyjuliet]

Grell wasn't one to change his mind when it came to coffee so he waved a hand dismissively, settling his elbow onto the arm of the chair. Charles was being a proper gentleman about this whole thing other than the blindfolding bit. Odd that the military would take such interest in them after pretty much ignoring their well-being for so long. The timing was just too convenient and, while Grell didn't mind basking in the glow of attention, Charles Berg was not the Spanish hottie she'd been expecting. Tilting his head to the side, Grell propped his chin lightly on the back of half-curled fingers, watching Charles closely.

No confidential information, just answers to any petty useless questions Grell might have. And--? There it was. A much less polite smile grew and spread across Grell's face as she watched Berg play his first hand. Marc, the radio man, helping people out in the forests and woods, supposedly now working with Landel of all people. A rebel out to bring this precious Institute down about Berg and Aguilar's ears. That was information worth having and worth the military's time to bring a death god in here to play some ridiculous game of information pseudo-exchange.

"So that's what this is about, hm?" Grell had never met the man himself, but the death god was smart and he knew how to listen in. Given the right incentive, he might even betray the others here and help the Institute grab Marc and end this stupid tug of war they had going. But the right incentive? Was not a few measly questions being answered. "I might know something, but your offer of information is not appealing enough for me to give him up. What else do you have to give me, Lieutenant General?"

Power, freedom, privileges. Grell would turn his back on everyone here if it gave him what he wanted. Now it just remained to see if the military was willing to play the death god's game. "I could be a most fantastic ally, or a most deadly foe, you know."

[das_berg]

It appeared he had piqued Ms. Sutcliffe's interest. Perhaps she would be more willing to share information than some of the other subjects he had met with so far. From the way the death god spoke, they would need to negotiate a price. But that was perfectly all right with the Lieutenant General. Making a small investment now could potentially lead to better rewards later, after all.

Leaning back in his seat, Berg folded his arms over his chest and paused for a moment. His polite smile never dipped.

"Yes, I'm quite aware of your talents and abilities, Ms. Sutcliffe," he said. "The fact you're here at all says a lot about yourself. I'm willing to discuss options." Some officers preferred brutal interrogation, but Berg found that, under the right circumstances, certain alternatives were far more effective.

"We know a great deal about Marc already," Berg continued. "But there are still some things we'd like to investigate further. That's why I'm interested to hear about anything he might have done under Martin Landel's watch, before General Aguilar assumed command of the institute."

Leaning forward now, Berg rested his arms on the desk. "Naturally, we're willing to reward you for your assistance. I have the authority to make your stay a bit more comfortable during the day -- by arranging a cup of your favorite tea with every meal, for example."

While he didn't keep the stuff in his office, he could easily provide Ms. Sutcliffe with such a luxury in exchange for her cooperation.

[deadlyjuliet]

Time to haggle then, was it? Grell leaned in his seat, chin resting on the backs of his fingers as he continued to study the man in front of him. They knew of him and what he could do - even knew the honorific he preferred - and yet they weren't afraid. They had to have some way of controlling the powers of the patients here and Grell wanted that. He wanted something big, but she also knew she had very few cards to work with right now. One lured in more flies with honey and sugar than oil and vinegar and now was the time for honey-coated words.

The death god smiled slowly. "Very well then. You have a deal."

A cup of tea was a start. He would certainly appreciate that, of course, but further rewards down the line? That was what he wanted. Giving away information wasn't a single-shot sort of deal and there were certainly other ways of getting back at the people he despise here other than simply chasing them down the halls with a chainsaw. Here was a spectacular opportunity to absolutely ruin a certain boy's life.

"So~ What shall I tell you then, hm? What sort of cryptic messages he sent, his relationship with that ugly woman Jill? Or perhaps something else?" Grell sat up, shifting so he could be more comfortable and still keep Berg in direct line of sight. "Is Marc the only person you're interested in? Or shall I let you in on other secrets I pick up along the way?"

[das_berg]

Judging from Ms. Sutcliffe's reaction, Berg very well may have secured the help of an informant. While he knew that such help would come at a price, he was willing to offer rewards for efforts to keep the military several steps ahead of the institute's subjects.

"Our records concerning some of his activities during Landel's term are somewhat lacking," Berg admitted. "I'd be interested in hearing about any messages he gave during that time, as well as places he may have gone in order to make contact with patients. The names of those he spoke with would also be of help."

As for further "secrets", he'd be foolish to only fixate his efforts on Marc. The man was only one of their current concerns, and Berg couldn't even say he was extremely high on their list of priorities these days.

"Any information about patient activities, especially what they plan to do at night, would be rewarded," he informed Ms. Sutcliffe, his dark-eyed gaze never wavering. "The better the information, the better the compensation, of course. But our interest isn't limited to Marc by any means."

[deadlyjuliet]

"Well, let's see..." Messages Marc had sent while Mr. GodComplex was still on the throne? Grell hadn't been around for too long, but he did remember some. The more interesting ones, especially. Grell leaned back in his chair now that he had a specific set of questions to answer, relaxing as he twirled a few strands of hair around his index finger. "He has access to the town as I remember some people talking about meeting him there. And once, after a particularly nasty something or other, he called for help over the radio. Unlike that unhelpful dolt Jill - who, by the way, I hope you know about - he stayed on the quieter side, preferring direct contact with us. He did ask us to help that useless woman, but I don't see why. She was double-crossing him and us, so really she wasn't much help at all. Once he came in, he chose to work on the technology side of things - hacking into the systems, removing barriers, that sort of thing."

As for who he spoke with...? Grell wasn't privy to that information, but he could vaguely recall people asking over the bulletin or was that hearsay he'd picked up wandering about before? Whatever it was, he knew one thing. "The clubs are looking for him - those absurdly named associations that still hang about. They say he's outside somewhere, but I haven't heard them drop the name of where yet, but if you like, I'll keep my ear to the ground for it."

Because screw that man. He never did a thing to really help Grell anyway. "It's rather easy to find what people are up to, so just let me know how to tell you and I'll slip you people a few extra things for a few payments my way."

[das_berg]

They did, in fact, know about Jill, but some of the other matters regarding his contact with certain individuals hadn't been confirmed. Berg had suspected it, of course, but all of that mostly took place under Landel's watch. It was refreshing to find a subject who was willing to discuss these matters.

"Yes, if you could get locations for us, we'd certainly appreciate it." Pausing, he took a sip of his warm coffee. "Specific names of anyone he made contact with would also be good. But, like I said before, our interest isn't limited to only Marc, either. I'd like to hear more about what these 'clubs' intend to do with their nights ahead of time."

Unlike many of the other subjects he'd met with before, it appeared Ms. Sutcliffe could recognize a good opportunity. "All you need to do is write a note addressed to me and hand it to one of our people," he said. "It should find its way to me soon enough. You'll be rewarded for your efforts, of course."

The officer reached for a pad and pen. "What sort of tea did you want, by the way? I'll make sure you have a cup waiting for you with every meal." True, the information from today wasn't as specific as he would have liked, but Berg looked on it as an act of good faith for future information.

[deadlyjuliet]

"I can find that out." It was a simple enough thing to imitate someone's handwriting or to pretend to be someone else and ask for the right information. People here were so stupidly trusting after all. Grell smiled, raising a hand to inspect his nails. The red polish still looked good even after a day or two. Thank goodness for that.

The club activities were even easier. They were practically spelled out on the board everyday. All it would take would be for Grell to copy those things down and pass them off to someone on his way to dinner. And how exciting...passing love notes with the higher ups seemed almost obscene. He liked that. It would be their little secret as long as no one else decided to try it out. "About the clubs, I can show you that before dinner. As well as any other activities of the populace here. There are so very few with whom I feel any sort of affection at all. It shall be interesting to see how they scramble when their nights get worse."

And maybe more of them would die. A vast number of people dying at once in a single point in time and space would definitely catch the attention of the death gods. Unless the American bureau was full of slackers, which, considering America's death toll, he highly doubted that. "Rose hip, if you would. There's just something so relaxing about the scent, don't you think?"

[das_berg]

"Excellent." While he could easily send his own people to pull information from subjects, it was far better to have a source who lived among them. "If you could be as detailed as possible in your notes, I'd appreciate that. I know some subjects discuss plans over the bulletin, but a few show some prudence about their precise locations and plans."

As for the tea request, Berg made a quick note of it. "Rose hip, got it," he confirmed with a nod. Upon being asked about the scent, he offered a dry smile. "I wouldn't know, since I've usually got a mug of this with me instead." To emphasize his point, he lifted his coffee up off the desk. He wasn't much a tea person, and it had never occurred to him to seek out any herbal blends.

"At any rate..." Lifting his pocket watch, Berg glanced at the time. "I think we may be running out of time soon. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?"

[deadlyjuliet]

"Certainly. I'll be as detailed as I can in our little love notes," he said, winking at him. There were some that used codes and some that liked to keep their rooms a secret, but uncovering room numbers was easy for the Institute. All that remained was to tell the guards where the patients were going, in how many numbers and what they were planning on doing. Easy enough.

Easy and profitable. Grell liked that idea wholeheartedly.

"Yes, yes, it does seem to be the time, doesn't it? I have nothing else-" Except-- No, asking after Aguilar here would be pointless. After a few more favors paid and some backstabbing in the right directions, Grell could ask and possibly get Harvey what he wanted. And if not? Well, that would simply be the unfortunate way the dice fell. "-to say. Although I do recommend tea. It's lovely and doesn't leave one's breath smelling quite so... strong."

Nor was it as tasteless.

With the meeting over, Grell was about to ask what would happen now - if he would be blindfolded and taken away again or if things would simply fade to black accompanied by music and candlelight - when the strangest sensation hit him. Before he could do much else, the world did fade to black and he slumped over in his seat.