arc_wrench
in
damned
Day 43: Sun Room
Why does this place always have to spoil my fun? was the first thing HK thought when he realized he was back in his cell in the Institute. Oh well. This meant his nurse would be coming soon to lead him off to whatever boring place he was supposed to go to now
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"Miles," she finally asked after a few moments pause, "did you just bite me?"
"...Yes ma'am."
He found himself being handed a granola bar, but when the woman tried to drag him off to breakfast he protested and was finally allowed to gnaw on the snack in the sun room. Last night had been far too out of the ordinary for him to want to avoid the discussions it would cause. He kept his eyes peeled for familiar faces as well as new ones.
There was also a chance that Lelouch would stop by here if he survived the night. He hadn't yet forgotten that particular task, even after the trauma of the night before.
His arm had been taken care of, it seemed. The bandaged area was much smaller than the extent of the rot had been. That was a relief. Hopefully by making it to sunrise he'd avoided any permanent effects from having been bitten by a zombie.
[free~]
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L made the decision to approach Matt solely because there was an element of familiarity about him.
Most of these people do not appear to be sick, or injured enough to be hospital inpatients, he thought, so it seems possible that this is a facility for psychiatric treatment, or maybe for the treatment of addictions...? No, there would be supporting materials suggesting that as the goal. The other possibility is that they are not patients at all.
He popped up in front of Matt, all unkempt black hair and staring dark eyes.
"You are familiar to me. Why?"
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"Because we grew up in the same place," he answered, watching the man warily. "You just got here." A statement. "I have some answers, if you want them." Would things go better with him now, he wondered, than they had when he was there before? They yet to get anywhere, and he wasn't feeling incredibly optimistic after almost becoming a zombie the night before.
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He realized that he had begun to think in terms of a nebulous "they" and "them," and wondered when he would have something more concrete to place behind what would ordinarily sound to him like a half-baked conspiracy theory.
His eyebrows twitched a bit, as a thoughtful expression passed across his face, and his gaze slipped to the side before it returned to focus on Matt.
"I would appreciate answers -- although I believe you will understand that I cannot yet take them at face value."
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"Firstly - whatever this place pretends to be, it isn't. Not during the day, anyway. At night, it's something different entirely. The nurses, our fake names, it's all for show." As much as he wanted to just dump out every little thing he could, it be better to start with the most believable and work his way up. "You've dealt with the supernatural, right? Most of the patients here are supernatural, and the sooner you're willing to believe this, the better off you'll be."
He faltered, feeling far too scrutinized. "Any specific questions?"
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"The supernatural -- until recently, I would have said that it is a ridiculous claim. Now -- " He made an expansive, eloquent shrug. "We should look for rational explanations first, but if we cannot rule out the supernatural, it is at least worth considering."
How much of the last few months would have been easier if he had worked with the understanding that shinigami are real? So many questions, still, about how Yagami might have manipulated them, but for the moment, addressing the current situation was more important.
"Can you explain more about these supernatural elements? You, for example -- you are one of them?" He knew that the answer should be No, but wanted to hear what the young man would say. "Please, I cannot remember your name. You should be younger... yes?"
There was a pleading note, faint but persistent, in his tone; he really was more confused and put out than he wanted to show.
At the same time, though, connections began to click together in his mind. It was becoming apparent that this scenario could not be a performance created solely to frustrate him. He doubted that any enemy of his powerful enough to engineer something like this also had the freedom to plan it -- most were imprisoned. Those who were not would have been more interested in killing him, if they could find him. It will be necessary to discard my initial suspicions as too paranoid -- or maybe it is that they are not paranoid in the correct way?
All the while, he stared at Matt, listening to what he had to say.
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He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "People show up here from anywhere and any time. Some of them disappear after a while, some are stuck here for the long haul. Plenty are killed at night on a regular basis. Some vanish and then return later with no memory of having been here before." Like you, he wanted to add but held off on for now. "It was the year 2010 when I was brought here. So yes, I'd be older than you remembered."
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"I have used that alias, but how did you hear it? For the moment, please call me Ryuuzaki." Ryuuga was only used at To-Oh, only for Yagami's benefit, only to preserve L's own life. "Is there anyone else here who might know me? By name, appearance, reputation -- anything?"
Matt's explanation of the previous night's activities was far-fetched, as was his claim of a timeline that somehow differed from what L would expect, but for the moment, L didn't argue. There is always the possibility that this place is what it appears to be, and he is a patient here who simply resembles -- no, it is difficult to credit. Why would the patient believe he is the person he happens to resemble? Why would he think that he has any connection to me? If that is the case, then the idea of a plant comes up again -- but for the time being, it seems illogical. It would be better not to decide now.
"The undead? Your arm -- you were injured?"
He shook his head, as if to dismiss any conflict between them, and his manner became a little more confidential. "I feel as if we are not starting from the beginning."
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And now for his first question... "There's been several people here. Most of them have since gone missing. M, N, ...B. Kira." Matt gave a little smile at that. "A couple of his accomplices... The detective, Matsuda. He might still be around. And also..." He tilted his head. "Do you know of a shinigami... that likes apples?"
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He didn't seem pleased at the list of names Matt trotted out. "Kira -- you know his identity? How were you able to confirm it?" It is Light Yagami, of course, it must have been -- but he is gone? The sense of frustration that had been eating at the edges of his consciousness since he woke up started to seep in, now more insidious, settling in his chest and stomach. He did what he could to ignore it: right now, it wasn't important. "I do not know of any accomplices other than Higuchi and Amane. Do either of those names sound familiar?"
At the word "shinigami," his eyes snapped open a little wider, looking shocked.
"Whether or not a shinigami likes apples has been a matter of some interest to me in the last few months." The words were murmured in a lower tone, and L brought his hand to his mouth, where he began to mouth at the tip of his thumb.
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So he was a shinigami. Matt allowed himself a little smile at the revelation that he'd been right about that strange man. "I spoke with someone on the bulletin that did a very poor job of hiding what he was, but I wasn't positive until now. He just looks like an ugly human now. That's what this place does, makes you human even if you weren't originally. He has an obsession with apples, though. You should meet him. He goes by Bob, but that's what the nurses call him, so it can't be his real name." Speaking of... "You can call me Robin while we're here, by the way. Robin Prower."
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"Yagami has an accomplice who I would not know?" A vertical furrow appeared between L's eyebrows. "When you say that the information was enough, what do you mean?"
The panic was rising in his stomach again, with a sense of dismay at the intimation of his own failure and what it would mean, and he found that he was gnawing on his thumb with increased enthusiasm. He sat down next to Matt, clambering onto the seat, perching almost like a bird, and wrapping his arms around his knees.
When he spoke again, his voice was more vague, flat in tone and faraway; the distance was repeated in his expression. "Yes -- Robin. I will look for Bob."
It would be easiest to believe none of this, but refusing to believe it may not make sense, he thought. If I refuse to believe it, the first and most important thing will be to form a working alternative theory.
"Are you accustomed to working under my direction, in your -- previous life?"
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That didn't matter, dammit. Mello wasn't here anymore.
"No," he answered simply to L's last question. "I only worked under M." He probably shouldn't be saying this much. L's responses indicated that he wasn't aware of his own death as Matt was aware of his. "And you wouldn't know him because at whenever you're from he likely wasn't a pawn yet." And because you didn't live long enough to see him. This was going to be difficult. He shrugged his shoulders. "I really shouldn't say anything else, mate. Could create time disturbances or something if we ever get out of here, unlikely as that is."
What was something current... someone else he could send L to see... "I'm currently working under the direction of a man named Homura. He found out I was working for M, and when M disappeared he gave me the option of helping him. He runs one of the clubs here - the History Club. Most of its members specialize in some form of combat, but I"m just doing spy work. He has a pretty big influence in this place."
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"Please answer my question. If Yagami has an accomplice I do not know, and you worked under M, then -- I will fail to stop Kira, won't I."
It wasn't phrased as a question this time. He turned his head to gaze at Matt. I will certainly fail to stop Kira if I am trapped here, he thinks. Yet I do not believe that this is something Yagami could accomplish on his own.
There was something a little bit helpless in his expression, but not as much as it might be.
"This place -- is it in Japan? The United Kingdom?"
He listened, intent, as Matt described the History Club; the name Homura was filed away for later.
"You say 'clubs,' as if several exist.
"What are the others? Why is the one with which you are involved described as the History Club?"
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"They say it's New Jersey," he gave a bit of a laugh. "But it's questionable whether it's even on the Earth we know or not. All the area for miles is controlled by Landel, and the constellations we're used to don't seem to exist." Oh whoops, he'd gone and rubbed his thumb straight across the lens. That would need to be fixed... "There's a lot of clubs. Mostly just basic organized groups and many have the same goal in mind. You'll find a list of those on the board too. The History Club has a lot of people from a good century in the past or so? I can't think of any other reason for the name."
He wouldn't be able to avoid the first question. He'd keep asking. With a sigh, he placed his glasses back on his face. L came back into sharp, horrid focus. "You died in November of 2004. None of the information you collected on the Kira case was saved, so M and N had to work from scratch over the next few years. Yagami Light took over as L, but the official case stagnated until 2009."
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"I do not know of any place in New Jersey in which a doctor, or his hospital, controls a piece of territory large enough to be worthy of discussion. It is possible, yes, that the hospital is located elsewhere?
... Can you tell me the day of the week? It is Tuesday?"
He took in the rest of the information about the History Club, nodding; he would check out the board, then talk to Matt later if he still had questions about the clubs. It was obvious that, if he could not leave the hospital, selecting and joining a club might be to his advantage.
The next thing Matt said, though, felt like a soft punch in the stomach, a whirl of airless dizziness. Even though it was not completely unexpected, there was still power in it, and more pain than he would have anticipated.
His hand dropped from his mouth, resting against his knees. He found that the other hand clutched and tugged and his leg and the sweatpants covering them. An expression of total dismay passed across his face -- and for once, it didn't fade as quickly as it had come. He looked a little lost, and his stare broke, his gaze falling down and to the side.
"I see. They did not receive a file when they were informed of my -- death?"
Of course they did not; it is stupid to even ask it. He realized that his mouth was dry; his tongue felt thick in it. It never occurred to him to think that this could be something that Matt might not have wanted to tell him.
I failed, he thought, then a hint of serenity crept in behind it: I failed, but I wasn't wrong.
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