Night 59: M71-M80 Hallway
Peter lifted his head up to the intercom with a heavy sigh. Aaah, I.R.I.S. His oldest of flames had returned, singing him sweet auto-tuned melodies of emergencies and holy crap souvlaki why was everything in their room suddenly being shot up with Sailor Moon beams
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It was too weird to ignore. Leaning against the side of the wall with one shoulder, Jesse went back to his bad habit of nail-chewing and focused his attention on the explanation he figured he was about to receive.
From either Mack or Woody. Whoever wanted to talk first. Names like those almost reminded him of his old street crew, but that was the extent to which they or anything about this place held any familiarity for him. He was starting to feel and look more angry than scared, but still a healthy mix of the two. Institute? As in, institution? As in, crazy-house? Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose and brushed the inside of his hand against his forehead, eyes closed for the moment.
"Are you trying to tell me we're trapped here? For good?"
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"W-What I was going to say is, they say they'll let us go once we're well, but--" Ippo looked down at the floor and the desk, anywhere but at Jesse. "--I don't know what that entails exactly. When I got here, there were nurses who were trying to help, but then the military came in and..." Well, it all went to shit; Ippo's face said it clearly.
"They are experimenting on us--I don't know why!" He quickly assured the man. "They just... pick some people. Sometimes you can... volunteer..." The words were hard to say, now that he looked back on the stupid things he had done. He had trusted people his friends had told him not to. The boxer had just wanted to get out of here and they had exploited that desperation, warping him with prescription drugs.
"But... I dunno why they do it..."
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Still, he couldn't help but look a bit somber when Ippo gave more of an explanation. "Mack's right, though," he added, his voice quiet. "There used to be doctors, and nurses, and--" And experiments too, but it was just too horrifying to say out loud. Woody sighed, shaking his head. "It was basically like a loony bin, yeah, but then these soldier guys showed up. Now it's like we've got this big military operation on our hands."
Woody folded his arms over his chest, thinking back on one of his first conversations with Wally. He'd said he'd been there for 17 days, and at the time Woody could barely even fathom being trapped, lost in a nasty place like this for that long. But now it was difficult for Woody to see any immediate end to this.
"They guard us pretty heavily during the day, but usually let us run loose at night," he explained. "At first I thought it'd be easy to find a way home once the lights go out, but the problem is that everyone blacks out before they can actually escape." Talk about creepy, but there wasn't any nicer way to put it.
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That was the only way it made sense. Except bits and pieces of what these two were saying didn't even sound like anything that could be real, like the monsters at night and blacking out if you take a step outside. Those parts, they sounded like some goddamn video game.
Jesse ran a hand back over his peach-fuzz head and slid down the wall, slowly. He sat with his knees up and could see the pink reflecting back onto his body, his absent attention fixed on it in a defeated way. "We're screwed."
"This is not good," Jesse muttered, stating the absolute obvious. "We're totally screwed. This is probably some, some torture facility, in South America or something. Maybe we've been drugged -- maybe some of this is like, a hallucination. Oh, God..."
"Shit," he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to keep his voice from cracking. "Do either of you have any smokes?"
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