Day 43: Intercom, Noon

[damned_intercom]

I.R.I.S. here again, and we continue to hope that you are enjoying your temporary stay at Landel's Institute! We hope that our staff have proved adequate for your needs so far, and we are now ready to showcase an uncommon - but vital - aspect of the lives of our future patients. Once every week, we will allow 'visitors' from the outside world to

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[effusivegrace]

The first thought that entered Dick's mind upon waking was that this wasn't where he'd gone to sleep. The texture of the pillow and the density of the bed were different from the simple extravagance that crept into everything at Wayne Manor. The smell was different too. Unlike his room, it didn't smell like home. It didn't even smell like New York or Titans Tower, not that it was likely he was any of those places. The fact he was woozy led to the possibility he'd been drinking and passed out at Roy's, but that happened once in a blue moon and it was infinitely more likely something else was going on. The next realisation that hit was even less pleasant than the first: he wasn't wearing his suit or his mask. Damn. Usually, the criminals of the world didn't bother taking the mask off. Occasionally, they ran prints but Babs took care of that. At least the idea that they knew who he was--

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Grayson."

-- absolutely certain. If he were the type to cuss, this would be the moment a string worthy of Grace would be coming out of his mouth. As it stood, he just groaned. Despite the fact Dick wasn't wearing the right clothes, he appeared to be in tact physically so that 'land of the living' probably wasn't literal. That could mean the security of Manor could be compromised or on a more mundane route of thought, he was being targeted as Dick Grayson, adopted son of Bruce Wayne as opposed to Nightwing, vigilante extraordinaire. It was a bit more mundane, but not implausible and no less dangerous. It would give him an ace up his sleeve if it came right down to a life or death situation but he didn't want to completely jump to ideas without any conclusive evidence beyond the fact they knew his name.

Speaking of they..."Uh, where am I?"

The woman, likely a nurse from the clothing, did the kind of smile that Alfred gave him sometimes that told him he was being difficult and that he just needed to calm down and think rationally. "Landel's Institute," she told him, as if that was supposed to mean anything. What he wouldn't give for Oracle on comms to be running the name right about now.

"Sorry, I'm too sure what that is." He could play dumb, but at the moment, it wasn't really playing. He guessed that would be what you could called method acting. "Uh, how'd I get here?"

"You were checked in last night, dear." That was a fake smile if ever he'd seen one and he'd seen his fair share. The condescending tone wasn't lost on him either.

This wasn't good at all, but the best way to get to who was behind a trap was to spring it. "Is there anyone I can talk to about this? I'm sure there's just been some kind of mistake. He aimed one of his most Robinesque smiles at her and that seemed to settle her.

"You're just a little confused," She said, attempting to sound soothing but there was a wooden quality to tone and her movements were extremely practiced. "Why don't you head on into the Sun Room with the others and I'm sure that will jog your memory." It really wasn't much of a question, but nondescript rooms had limited answers for him. Hopefully, having people to question, he'd get to the bottom of this.