Indy charged through the doorway with a flicker of righteous indignation, ready to demonstrate that they were exactly where he'd said they'd be, and it really was just a problem with the maps, so if the kid would just-- That was as far as he got into his mildly satisfying mental victory before it came to a crashing halt. This was not the room with the counter.
What it was was a fairly large room filled with boxes, each labeled with a name. A few of the ones close to the door looked like they'd been thrown around. Indy had never seen the room before in his life. Looking down at the map still in his hand, he struggled to match what was in front of him to one of the labels--one of the storage rooms? Patient possessions?
It didn't matter. There was only one way out of the mail room. This wasn't possible.
"Either of you ever seen this room before?" he asked in a tight voice.
Someone else with "perfect memory"? For some reason, it had been easier to believe from Lunge than from this kid. Harvey hadn't been in the mood to argue, though, as they had places to go, and so he'd followed Jones out without another word. Maybe the stranger had sleepwalked his way up the stairs or something. He really didn't care.
However, that all changed when they stepped through the door and ended up somewhere completely different. More than that, the place was foreign to him. There was no way they'd been turned around, so what the hell?
More of Landel's tricks, no doubt. That would also explain the confusion with the other patient, but that didn't mean Harvey wanted to admit that he was wrong. He didn't know how this was happening, but he felt less inclined to theorize when there was a third party around.
Glancing to Jones, the only answer he gave with a tight shake of his head. He didn't need the younger man to rub their noses into the fact that they'd been wrong. Then again, technically all of them had been wrong, but
( ... )
Allelujah ignored his surprise at entering yet another room without passing through any corridors in between, in favour of smug satisfaction and a faint smirk at the looks of surprise on the faces of his companions. He didn't often get to experience such an emotion, let alone savour it, so he was going to enjoy it now while he could.
He took a good long look around the room while the two older men were preoccupied with realising that something strange actually was going on. "Yes," he replied, glancing back over his shoulder. "Patient possessions room, second floor, far north east side of the building," he said, perhaps wanting to prove that he wasn't some foolish child a little more than he cared to let on. "Perhaps we just accidentally missed the right corridor," he added lightly.
That shared look of incomprehension with Dent was alarming; it meant that he'd never experienced what was going on here before either. This room had clearly changed in the couple of minutes (he thought; despite the unpredictability of time here, it certainly hadn't been long) since they'd left it. And not just the furniture, but the whole space, dimensions and all
( ... )
It wasn't that hard to miss the fact that the stranger was smug as hell right about then, but Harvey decided that a glare would only give the kid more satisfaction, and so he let it go. Besides, the information that the other patient had for them was far more interesting. While he got the feeling that all of the possessions they found here would be bogus, it was still worth it to see what there was. It would give him a better idea as to who the institute thought he was, at least.
Or rather, who they wanted him to be.
Aaron Eckhart, he reminded himself as he started to move through the room looking for the right one. "Well, we're here now, however it happened. Might as well see what there is before we try to work out what the hell just happened." At least the kid didn't have any ideas about that, so the three of them were on equal footing in that sense
( ... )
Allelujah didn't even bother looking around for his own box. Whatever they had come up with for his 'real life' in this world, he didn't want to know about it. He'd seen other people be affected by the lies of this place, he'd lost Lockon and Setsuna and Feldt that way and he wasn't about to let himself be drawn into their lies. He did look around the room though, pulling out the occasional box to see if there was anything useful, but they didn't seem to keep anything that could be used as a weapon in here. No cigarettes or items for trade either
( ... )
If Dent was going to take a minute to look for his box, Indy intended to do the same. Finding the one labeled "Harry Lucas, Jr." was the work of thirty seconds (no box for Lucas, Sr.), and he followed Dent's lead in moving it from the shelf to the floor, the better to paw through it.
The stuff wasn't his. That was obvious at first glance, but he went over it all anyway, pulling each item out one at a time with his free hand laying it on the floor. On top was a piece of cloth that, when unfolded, turned out to be a dark-colored uniform. "Janitor's clothes," Indy muttered to himself in annoyance. The bastards.
Underneath the uniform were a nondescript white undershirt and belt, and under those was something that felt like a thick magazine. He inspected that more carefully, tilting the flashlight so he could read the cover: American Journal of Archaeology, 99:1. It was dated 1995, but it was so well-thumbed that the cover was threatening to come off in his hand. Indy leafed through it and found that it contained a long article on
( ... )
Harvey had already opened up his box by the time that Jones got to his, and the first thing he saw was a slightly wrinkled button-up shirt with a tie to match. They looked like the sort of style he would wear (and the shirt was the right size, at that), but they didn't belong to him. Frowning, he pulled both out and set them aside.
The next thing was a thick file of papers. He yanked it out and sat it in his lap, quickly realizing that it was notes on some sort of legal case with "Aaron Eckhart" as the prosecutor. Using his flashlight, he quickly scanned over the details. It seemed like a run of the mill murder case, but once again, the names and the specifics weren't familiar to him. Scowling, he threw the file to his side, ignoring the loud whump sound it made when it hit the floor
( ... )
Indy charged through the doorway with a flicker of righteous indignation, ready to demonstrate that they were exactly where he'd said they'd be, and it really was just a problem with the maps, so if the kid would just-- That was as far as he got into his mildly satisfying mental victory before it came to a crashing halt. This was not the room with the counter.
What it was was a fairly large room filled with boxes, each labeled with a name. A few of the ones close to the door looked like they'd been thrown around. Indy had never seen the room before in his life. Looking down at the map still in his hand, he struggled to match what was in front of him to one of the labels--one of the storage rooms? Patient possessions?
It didn't matter. There was only one way out of the mail room. This wasn't possible.
"Either of you ever seen this room before?" he asked in a tight voice.
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However, that all changed when they stepped through the door and ended up somewhere completely different. More than that, the place was foreign to him. There was no way they'd been turned around, so what the hell?
More of Landel's tricks, no doubt. That would also explain the confusion with the other patient, but that didn't mean Harvey wanted to admit that he was wrong. He didn't know how this was happening, but he felt less inclined to theorize when there was a third party around.
Glancing to Jones, the only answer he gave with a tight shake of his head. He didn't need the younger man to rub their noses into the fact that they'd been wrong. Then again, technically all of them had been wrong, but ( ... )
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He took a good long look around the room while the two older men were preoccupied with realising that something strange actually was going on. "Yes," he replied, glancing back over his shoulder. "Patient possessions room, second floor, far north east side of the building," he said, perhaps wanting to prove that he wasn't some foolish child a little more than he cared to let on. "Perhaps we just accidentally missed the right corridor," he added lightly.
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Reply
Or rather, who they wanted him to be.
Aaron Eckhart, he reminded himself as he started to move through the room looking for the right one. "Well, we're here now, however it happened. Might as well see what there is before we try to work out what the hell just happened." At least the kid didn't have any ideas about that, so the three of them were on equal footing in that sense ( ... )
Reply
Reply
The stuff wasn't his. That was obvious at first glance, but he went over it all anyway, pulling each item out one at a time with his free hand laying it on the floor. On top was a piece of cloth that, when unfolded, turned out to be a dark-colored uniform. "Janitor's clothes," Indy muttered to himself in annoyance. The bastards.
Underneath the uniform were a nondescript white undershirt and belt, and under those was something that felt like a thick magazine. He inspected that more carefully, tilting the flashlight so he could read the cover: American Journal of Archaeology, 99:1. It was dated 1995, but it was so well-thumbed that the cover was threatening to come off in his hand. Indy leafed through it and found that it contained a long article on ( ... )
Reply
The next thing was a thick file of papers. He yanked it out and sat it in his lap, quickly realizing that it was notes on some sort of legal case with "Aaron Eckhart" as the prosecutor. Using his flashlight, he quickly scanned over the details. It seemed like a run of the mill murder case, but once again, the names and the specifics weren't familiar to him. Scowling, he threw the file to his side, ignoring the loud whump sound it made when it hit the floor ( ... )
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