Night 48: F21-F30 Hallway

[fourstonewalls]

When the intercom finished another deliberately vague note, Lana was already standing at her door, flashlight in hand and scalpel securely in her coat pocket. She'd neglected to find out exactly how the doors worked at night, but the general idea was clear. Some time soon, they would open, and she had to be ready the moment they did

Comments

[dreadofthegrave]

Battler pulled out a chair from one of the desks, placing it in front of the bed opposite Beatrice and lowering himself into it unceremoniously. He crossed his legs, putting both hands behind his head, leaning back slightly as he listened to the intercom.

"A game, huh...?" he repeated to himself.

That was right. Even here, there remained a division between reality and fiction. They were told they weren't who they thought they were, and were forced to feebly fight for their own identities. The day and night exemplified it. The night, where everyone could be the most normal, also brought upon the bizarre; unnatural shifts that, to the outside, would enforce the idea of sanity. The Head Doctor's shifts were probably the most prominent; how he went from fake cheer during the day to his true bastard colors at night. No need to call them out, given the premise--they'd be written off as nothing but paranoid delusions. The whole thing was ridiculous. What could it be called but a game?

It was strange, but something about the tone made Battler almost want to believe this particular announcement. Almost. He was certainly a bastard, and the boy wasn't about to forgive him for trying to defile people's lives and memories, but at the same time, the announcement was a reminder that Battler didn't entirely grasp the situation. Motivation, after all, could completely change everything.

"I wonder...." he commented mildly to Beatrice's statement. "I can't say I know what the hell he was talking about, but I can definitely believe that there's something bigger going on here. It's hard to imagine that anybody would do something this elaborate with nothing to gain from it, isn't it?"

So he said, but wasn't there someone doing something similar with seemingly no advantage right in front of him? He frowned slightly upon thinking it. It was something he wanted--needed--to figure out, but there was no choice but to ignore it in favor of the current mystery. It was something that needed to unraveled, if they ever wanted to get back, or so it seemed. But it felt.... wrong, disgusting even, with what he was about to discuss with her.

"Right." He lowered his hands, and straightened himself out from his casual position. "I guess I should start by saying that I don't know the whole situation, so I only have a few assumptions based off of something that was vague in the first place. Anyways, getting to the point..." He paused for a moment; it was clear that, whatever he was about to say, he wasn't comfortable with it at all.

"....I think it may be continuing. Even now, while we're trapped here, those two days are still repeating. I don't know what happening, or what's happened since we left. I don't even want to think about it...! But still, she said it clearly. Something about the sixth game."

The thought was... terrifying, if he were to be honest about it. There was no telling what sort of results would be reached, what they were doing, what sort of horrible, cruel, grotesque things they'd be putting everyone through now that they head free reign, and especially now that there was nobody present who could stop them. One thing was clear, though: there was absolutely nothing good that could from it. Battler clenched his fists, biting his lip in frustration. What the hell was this, anyway...?! While they were stuck here, playing around, not even knowing how to reach their opponent, Lambdadelta and Bernkastel were still screwing around as they pleased!

He tried to swallow the thick lump in his throat, quickly wiping at his eyes with his sleeves before the hot liquid blurring his vision could spill over. As much as he wanted to cry, it was too early for despair. After all, it meant one thing: they were running out of time. If he had time to shed tears, shouldn't he be putting that energy towards something useful? ... But for some reason, that thought made him want cry even more.

[goldenroulette]

That was the only logical answer, of course. Beatrice nodded to those repeated words, acknowledging them even if they weren't addressed directly to her. Yes, this was a game, and one she might have even found amusing, if it was her choice to simply observe.

That choice had been denied to her the moment she had been plucked off their board, though, and because of that, she rejected it. She couldn't stand idly by and let someone use her as a piece in their own game. She had known that from the beginning.

"That may be the first competent statement that I've heard come out of your mouth here," Beatrice answered, lips quirking in a half-smirk. "I agree. This is someone's gameboard, and they have something to gain from it. There's a purpose to it, I can tell that much, but...not what the purpose itself is."

She sighed once, that smirk fading off her lips as she listened to Battler again, giving him her full attention. Beatrice didn't respond for a few minutes afterwards, thinking hard about the implications of it. If those two days were repeating, then...who knew what was happening? She herself could be cruel, but both Lady Lambdadelta and Lady Bernkastel were far crueler than she.

The thought of what they were doing was enough to make her stomach twist uncomfortably. It was true that she had invited them in - and really, they could be pleasant company. The three of them would probably laugh, if they were all observing this particular game from the outside. But left to their own devices...

"Those two...they travel between the kakera like restless children, unable to play with a toy for too long before they grow bored. They aren't like someone like me, who can play with their favorite toy endlessly." She laughed a little, the cackle echoing off the walls.

"That boredom makes them dangerous, however, and they've grown altogether too fond of the game I created. I would compliment them on finding a toy they liked, if they weren't playing wildly. If I know them, they've changed every rule and started using shogi or go pieces on a Monopoly board."

Beatrice closed her eyes for a moment, rubbing two fingers together as if she were twirling her pipe between them. She knew perfectly well what Battler was doing, but chose to ignore it in favor of getting him to start thinking again. "Are you going to give up so easily? Let me guess. It's useless." She laughed again, louder than before. "It's all useless, isn't it?"

She didn't give him a chance to respond before asking her next question, her voice pointed and almost accusatory. "What, then, of the person on the bulletin board? Whose piece is she, and was she the one speaking of the sixth game?"

[dreadofthegrave]

That was certainly a problem, wasn't it? Here they both were, on a new board neither knew a thing about. Motivations, rules, how exactly they were supposed to fight or even reach their opponent--that intercom announcement alone was littered with terms Battler had never heard before. Lack of information was sort of like a double-edged sword; it was easier to make theories, but just as easy to have those overturned by something yet undiscovered. It was the same principal in chess; in the opening, there were countless moves and sacrifices that could be made. It could even be said that the opening and middle game were nothing but careful progressions to the endgame, where the true battle took place. Because moves became severely limited, it was also much easier to read the opponent. It became a battle of wits, skillfully and carefully trying to outmaneuver each other in order to obtain checkmate. That was where Kyire's "chessboard thinking" came into play; being forced to turn it over endlessly was far too early to be using it. It was the same thing in mystery novels; every piece of information came together to form a single whole, and the more the detective discovered, the more accurate their realization of the truth. Yet, there were often cases of a single, overlooked detail completely changing the entire outcome of the story.

In other words, though they were here on this board, there was as of yet no way for them to fight. Without first gathering the proper information, they'd never be able to progress into that final threshold. The only choice was to ask around and hope that the information was accurate, if they ever wanted to find their opponent.

The real issue was time. Events moved sequentially here, but the gameboard was different; everything could be paused, progressed, or reverted at the whims of whoever was controlling the board. So, while Erika had mentioned a sixth board, it was entirely possible that wasn't an accurate measure.

Battler felt a sudden wave or anger and irritation wash over him at Beatrice's laughter and seeming nonchalance, and he found himself suddenly rising from his chair. What the hell was that reaction, why was she so calm...?! Wasn't there too much at stake here?! It was almost like she didn't care about the result, even though that couldn't be the case. Could she really be okay with them skewing everything, using disgusting half-truths to turn lies into reality?

Of course, to him, that was hardly to worst problem. If real truth only took one form, then whatever story the painted could eventually be overturned. .... They were monstrously defiling everything. Whatever truth Beatrice was trying to show him, but also the dignity of those trapped on that island, sneering at the lives of the living, dishonoring that of those who had already passed. The incident in the study made it more than clear what sort of board they would create, and it was something he absolutely couldn't forgive. He opened his mouth in protest, but she didn't give him much of a chance to speak his part. The next questions did allow him to calm himself down, however. Even if that annoying laugh had gotten under his skin a little, it seemed that they were on the same page.

"Yeah, Furudo Erika," he responded a little warily. "She calls herself Bernkastel's double. ... It's not like before. Rather than just observing, she was actually present on the island. You could say she's more your enemy than I am. What she's looking for isn't the truth, but superiority. She strings everything together in the worst possible way just to humiliate and for some petty sense of superiority. I don't know what she's after, and taking anything she says at face value would be probably wrong, but I also don't think she has any reason to lie about there being another board. Still... I'd be careful, if I were. She definitely doesn't have our best interests in mind."

[goldenroulette]

Beatrice didn't reply for a few minutes. Perhaps her laugh had been a bit harsh, but there were really only two options in this situation. Give up and stop thinking, or go forward. You might say that this was just the beginning of this particular place's game, and she was by no means ready to stop thinking yet. She needed time to decide which strategy would be best.

It certainly wasn't that she didn't care about what was going on back home. The opposite was true; she cared far more than she was letting on, as evidenced by the momentary wavers in her composure; a tremble in her arm, a look in her eye. If anything, she was playing here because it was all she could do. If she'd had a chessboard handy, she would be twirling the black queen between her fingertips at the moment, deciding which pawns would go first - or whether it would be a knight instead.

"Our opponent here seems to prefer the kind of game with an omnipotent director playing behind a curtain. I don't like it," she pouted. "What fun is a game where the opponent stays constantly hidden?" There was a hint of anger underneath her words. "Tch. I think he's afraid. As well he should be."

She might have seemed flippant, but it had worked to her advantage, to some extent. At least Beatrice had gotten Battler to stop thinking about crying and - ideally - start to think again himself.

"Furudo Erika," Beatrice repeated, clear disdain in her voice. "And Lady Bernkastel's double, but she's incomplete. She would have to be, in order to be so incredibly focused on proving herself to go defiling the board in order to stroke her own ego."

She paused again, stroking her chin idly. "How cruel of that witch, to go making an incomplete copy. Is she that bored, or merely that..." The last sentence went unfinished. "Regardless, I don't like it. I don't think I care for her, either, but I'll entertain her company for a short while. I want to see what she has to say for herself, regarding this sixth game."