Night 59: M71-M80 Hallway

[mustbethesuit]

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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[pullstrung]

"Hey, no one said anything about for good," Woody reminded the newcomer, though it was partly for his own peace of his mind. He didn't want to think they'd stay here forever anymore than the next toy -- next person. Whatever.

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.

[blowfishing]

The focus of Jesse's gaze kept jumping from Woody to Mack each time one of them spoke up, betraying just how freaked out he was and was continuing to become. It was a lot of information to take in, and it was some fuckin' insane sounding information at that. A corrupt mental institute and a military take-over and experimentation -- maybe one of Gus' men had captured him and sent him out of the country, to some seedy underground operation like this.

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?"