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

Comments

[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?"