Day 29: Courtyard
Hiei easily grew sick of the same walls--not to mention the same idiots always within those walls--and while not perfect, the chance to go outside was better than lingering in the boundaries of that damned prison. So when the chance came, the demon was quick to leap on it, heading outside almost quick enough to make a nurse wonder if he was
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Apparently fresh air was supposed to be good for the soul, according to the orderly escorting him. To Brock, after living in New York, fresh air was still a bit of a novelty, but he couldn't say it was doing much for his soul. Still, he guessed it was that or try to enjoy the fresh air during the night and try to survive, which didn't exactly leave him free to do much else.
He wasn't sure how he felt about the conversation with Parker. The kid just filled him with far too many damn mixed feelings, like a goddamn woman, and he was getting tired of it, to tell the truth. Getting tired of not knowing exactly if he was going to sock Parker or - or something. All he knew was that everything he did, sometimes even what the Spider thought, was important. Like earth-shattering important. He missed the days when he knew exactly how he felt about people and what to say around them; but those days were over, and besides, he wouldn't trade them for the world. He'd trade his days as a free human for a life- ( ... )
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With all that in mind, he didn't think he was going to get many chances to go outside. On a more practical note, if he got a look at the surrounding area he might be able to pinpoint where he was, exactly.
On the way there, he was led through a large room with comfy chairs and with a number of other people wearing the same clothes as him, lounging around and talking like this was all normal, and then through a cafeteria with more of the same. This at least meant that there were others who were in the same position as he was, but who had been around longer and might be able to help him work through what was going on ( ... )
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Some kid was approaching him from behind. Brock sized him up for a second; pretty much a gawky looking kid with hair that was right up Parker's alley and probably could use a good cut, in his opinion. He didn't ring any bells. Probably another newbie here, another poor sap who woke up one day and found himself in a bedroom with barred windows and locks on the outside. No matter how many new people he saw come in, and the fact that he knew a good portion were mutants with freak powers, he still felt a bit sorry for them. Freaks or not, he didn't think every mutant needed to be locked up if they were sane, normal people.
As patients went, this new guy looked pretty normal to him - like the kind of quiet, shy types who'd be better off hiding behind a counter or a book than throwing lightning bolts or turning into a human Gumby. Or maybe he wasn't even a freak. There were probably normal people here too, people who had been taken probably without getting checked out.
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"Wish I could say I was, but I'm not," Brock said. He held out his hand. "Eddie Brock. And hate to be the one to tell you this, but you're in Landels."
And you're shit out of luck went unsaid...but after the first night, this new guy would figure that one out real fast, assuming he made it that far. Now Brock couldn't say he had any real idea about the survival rate here, but he figured that the odds weren't exactly good if you were just an average guy. It was bad enough even if you had "abilities". The blond crossed his arms over his chest, not feeling terribly impressed looking at the new kid. He looked like he belonged curled up with a good book of poetry, instead of getting the crash course in how to survive some kind of whacked out freak prison ( ... )
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Despite his wishy-washy appearance, Peter actually asked some pretty good questions. Instead of flipping out or anything, he asked stuff that was worth knowing; Brock's opinion of the kid went up a notch at that. Normal or mutant, he had a decent head on his shoulders.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know how I got here," Brock said. "The last thing I remember before Landels is getting something to eat at this crappy fast food joint. Then I woke up here."
No point sweating the details. Peter didn't need to know that when Brock said "something to eat", he hadn't been eating a Big Mac. You didn't really want to go around advertising you were pretty much a cannibal (with refined tastes) to anyone and everyone. But the rest was true, even if he'd skimped on the specific details.
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His situation had been a little different. He distinctly remembered getting hit with something before he passed out, but there was always the chance that the Company hadn't been willing to take any chances with him, so they had allowed some sloppiness so long as it insured his capture ( ... )
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Of course, there was always the chance that he'd been made to forget. Considering how they didn't even remember Kasady or even spawning his little bastard symbiote, that didn't seem too far of a stretch. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought because it left open all sorts of nasty questions: how much did Landels really know about them? There was no telling if he'd already taken a few potshots at them and it'd been erased from Brock's memory.
He didn't speak up again for a bit, his expression darkening as he frowned to himself. When he did speak up again, he was glancing at Peter:
"No one told you about how this place seems to work?"
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There was also a chance that Eddie was being kept here just to make sure he wasn't out in the real world because he was a threat somehow (in other words, in the same boat Peter was in), but he didn't know how easy it would be to ask about that.
Either way, he definitely wasn't liking what he'd gathered about this place so far. A lot of people had been yanked out of their lives, kept from their friends and family, and for what? Just to be poked and prodded at? He could understand why they would want to keep him imprisoned, but there was no way all of these people had presented as much of a threat as he had ( ... )
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Leaning against the bench's back, Brock stretched his legs out. For once it didn't hurt too much to move. "I guess I better fill you in if that's the case."
What would come next probably would sound crazy, but you either had to believe it or you didn't. And if you didn't, you soon would. Or be dead. And hell, the way Brock saw it, if a guy could wake up having seemingly teleported from one place to another, to Landels, than the rest of it about monsters going bump in the night and little mutant girls with a thing for spontaneous combustion weren't that much more of a stretch ( ... )
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Unfortunately, he was forced into a frown the moment the description started. Mental patients? Was that what they were trying to pass this off as? Maybe some of these people didn't know that they had a power, or hadn't manifested yet, so the company was using that as a cover? Peter was tempted to ask about it, but there was always a chance that Eddie didn't realize what was really going on, in which case he would have to be a little more delicate with what he said ( ... )
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