Day 28: Bus 2
Momo tugged on the collar of the light blue sweater she was wearing as she followed her nurse to wherever these buses were, winding her hair up into its customary bun as she went. It was an odd feeling, knowing she was about to go outside of the institute's borders. Maybe the Head Doctor was about to make an error and the shinigami, as well as
( Read more... )
If he ever found a source of scrap metal, anyway. Sure, he could tear apart his bed, but that would still leave him with finding metalworking tools to craft with, and most important of all, crystals to power any weapons with.
Although he'd looked his little radio over again and again and hadn't found any crystals. Maybe they were internally mounted?
When morning came (with such a sudden shock that it nearly made him tear his sheets apart) and with it, a nurse with a pile of clothing, Stork asked if he could just stay inside.
"Certainly not," said the nurse, handing him the clothes with a chiding smile. "Unless you're really sick, we want you to get out and explore! It's not good for you to be cooped up all day long."
"That's what you're doing by keeping us here," he said, looking through the clothes skeptically, wondering what kind of horrible germs were lurking on these. (They looked used.)
"And that's why we're letting you take a trip to Doyleton. Now, get changed! You'll have breakfast on the bus."
... whatever the clothes were made of, it wasn't familiar to him. Still, they were distinctly less humiliating than bland gray and a bright yellow smiley face, and so with some hesitation, Stork pulled them on. The stiff-materialed blue-ish pants were a little big (although not too long) and the sleeveless shirt similar, but the warmer, long-sleeved, thicker shirt they gave him (the nurse called it a sweatshirt) was ridiculously huge. He was going to drown in it.
On the bus, Stork scrambled to the back and cowered in his seat, eyeing the food in the paper bag suspiciously. He was ... kind of hungry, given that he hadn't eaten properly since arriving here, but who knew what kind of hellish diseases lurked in the depths of this ... this ... stuff?
Reply
Phibrizzo was a bit annoyed to wake up without causing a painful death to befall the cat, but once he realized he still had his scalpels and cigarettes, his anger subsided somewhat. His wounds were dressed and he was given a slightly oversized sweatshirt with the images of various barnyard animals to wear with jeans. How...strange.
Taking his breakfast and juice box, the Mazoku lord was quick to find himself a seat mate to torment, lest this ride prove to be boring and uneventful. Smiling sweetly at Stork, he ventured, "This seat taken?"
Reply
Stork looked over from his awkwardly curled-up position in the seat, distracted from reading the ingredients on the side of the drink box (he didn't know what any of them were, but they sounded like chemicals. Very bad chemicals). Small ... girl? Boy? Boy. Asking him if the seat was taken. Smiling with all the innocence of a child who had never known the horrors of war.
He was immediately suspicious.
"No," he said, crushing himself up against the side of the bus and returning his gaze to the box in his hand. "You can sit here if you have to."
Reply
"...." That was a bizarre reaction. Phibrizzo tried again to come across as the sweet innocent child he appeared. "I don't have to, Mister! But I just thought maybe we could be friends!"
Really, what was the deal with THIS one?
Reply
...
Whyyyy meeeee?
"If you ... want to, you can. I don't mind." Oh, how he minded. He'd lost his focus on the ingredients listed on the box; right now, his mind was filled with thoughts of whatever horrible, murderous intentions this "kid" might have.
Reply
Fumbling with the straw, he decided it would be all the more 'heartwarming' to ask his seat mate to help him with getting juice. Putting on a somewhat pouty face, he turned to Stork with the straw in one hand and the box in the other. "I can't make the straw go in." He sniffled slightly. "What am I doing wrong?"
Reply
"I don't know." Curiosity temporarily seizing control, Stork pried his own straw off the box and peeled off the wrapper, looking at the top of the box. There was a little silvery section that looked weaker than the rest - that must be where it went. "Put it in here, maybe?"
Success - his straw went in. And now, with his curiosity satisfied, terror reclaimed his mind - he'd not only helped what was probably an extremely dangerous psychopath, but he'd opened the box. Whatever was inside was now leaking into the air, possibly poisoning him and everyone else around him.
... it didn't smell that bad, though. Kind of ... fruity.
Reply
Not that he cared especially who Stork was. He was more interested in determining if the man had any sort of purpose in his plans.
Reply
" ... Stork." He'd had an internal battle for a few critical moments, trying to decide between giving his real name and the name they insisted on calling him here. But he came to the conclusion that if he gave the name they called him, then it would practically be committing himself to this place forever.
Oh, sure, it was all mental, but sometimes that was the worst.
Reply
"Isn't that a bird, Mister?" What an odd name. The man didn't look particularly avian, though he was acting strangely. It was as if he was frightened of Hellmaster. It was actually rather lovely, except Phibrizzo had done nothing to warrant such behavior nor had he revealed himself. Did this man know more than he should?
"What are you afraid of, Mr. Stork?"
Reply
No distractions! The kid had switched topics. What was Stork afraid of? Did he want an alphebetical list, or a chronological one? Oh, the horrors that plagued his mind day and night, waking and sleeping, living and --
... nevermind.
"Oh, nothing." Stork crunched his bag up in his hands, feeling the muffin inside squish. "Just the idea of this ... transport, whatever it is, taking us to some unknown destination that may or may not be what they claim it is, winding up being kidnapped again or killed upon arrival, tiny indiginous insects flying in through these open windows and burrowing into our brains, or this transport itself careening wildly off the road and plunging all of us to our horrible, prolonged, firey dooms."
Because those were just as valid as the idea of the boy sitting next to him turning into a homicidal psychopathic murderer.
Reply
"Well, I don't think we need to worry about dying. They said they wouldn't kill the people they gave lucky stars to, right? I guess we can be glad we have nothing to worry about, can't we, Mister?"
Reply
Seized for a moment by unerring panic, Stork pulled open his bagged breakfast again and began digging through it, looking desperately for any sign of a star before pausing and turning his attention back to the too-happy boy sitting next to him.
This could just be a way of tormenting him - if this kid really was a psychopath in disguise. If he thought clearly, everything would be okay. Well, no, it wouldn't, but it might make him feel a little better.
"What. Star." Stork kept his hands poised on the edges of the bag, ready to resume his search or use it as a projectile should either instance become necessary.
Reply
He cocked his head and blink. "Didn't you get one?"
Reply
Nothing. No star. Not a single mark similar to the one in the hands of the boy sitting next to him.
... now, it was still entirely possible that this was all just a ruse, coughed up by the little brat sitting next to him in an attempt to freak him out. After all, the nurse hadn't mentioned a thing when giving him and his roommate their clothes, and as far as he could tell, nobody else had made mention of it. But maybe only the special chosen ones had been given the stars? And then ... then ... told not to speak of it? But this kid, so young and naive, just went ahead with it anyway ...
...
He was going to puke, he just knew it.
"Get one of the nurses," he muttered, burying his face in his hands as all the scenarios of death and doom possible (and they were many) flitted gleefully through his head. "I'm going to be sick."
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment