Day 45: Intercom, Noon
The voices of the chattering patients in the library, which was not as quiet as should have been expected, were cut off by the intercom clicking on and Nurse Lydia's voice coming out in its familiar indifferent manner. It was almost as if she and the Head Doctor were splitting up the announcement duties these days
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The room wasn't familiar, but something about it instantly called to mind a place Mello hadn't thought about in years, the state-run orphanage in Ljubljana. After a moment, he realized the same vaguely institutional scent, bleach and lemon, pervaded this place. The horrible clothes added insult to injury. Mello plucked at them, holding the t-shirt away from his body with distaste. Gray, with a smiley face.
"You have got to be shitting me," he said, certain the room was bugged, and furious enough not to care.
This was bad. Institutions meant paper trails, and he didn't remember getting here. The Morgan Kielty ID was the only one he ever had on him these days, but they'd taken his gun, they could've taken a fucking picture of him...
He had to get out.
He got up, but before he reached the door, it opened, and a nurse stepped in, carrying a clipboard. Mello crossed his arms and glowered at her.
"Michael, you're awake. Good," she said, with nauseating brisk cheer.
"You've got the wrong guy, lady. I'm Morgan."
She made a "tch" sound, and Mello dialed up the glare even before she glanced at the clipboard and went on. "You're suffering from amnesia... hm, among other things. This is Landel's. You're here to get better."
He ticked them off on his fingers. "Narcissism, amorality, superiority complex, or inferiority complex, or both, if you're amused by paradoxes. Is that what your little notes say? Your notes are bullshit. You can't hold me here. I'm an American citizen." This was a lie, but one his ID backed up.
"You're very unwell," she said, seriously. "You've forgotten all the progress you made before." Then, like someone had flipped a switch, she brightened. "But it's time for lunch. You're bound to feel better after tacos."
Before? "Who put you up to this?" Mello demanded, abandoning the tactic that was getting him nowhere fast. There was no fucking way this was Kira's doing; he'd be dead already. Probably Mafia, and after he'd left LA wide open for them, the ungrateful bastards. "Whatever they're paying you, I'll double it."
The nurse sighed. "Michael, the sooner you accept that you need to be here, the sooner we can get back to helping you."
Mello was sure he could take her down, but then what? He was god only knew where, with no weapon, no phone, no wallet, not even real fucking shoes. He felt normal, physically, but they had to have drugged him to get him here. And this business about having been here before... he didn't like any of the possible explanations one bit. If these people were in the habit of kidnapping--and the nurse certainly seemed to have done this little routine more than once--they'd be prepared for physical resistance. Better to play along, stay sharp, and get more information before getting branded right off as a flight risk. He smiled, and didn't bother trying to make it convincing. "All right. Tell me all about... Landel's, was it?"
The appearance of compliance seemed to be good enough for her. "Wonderful. We're going to get along just fine this time. Now, follow me."
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