DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Night 57: M41-M50 Hallway
make you comprehend.
unheroed wrote in damned
Luckily for Harvey, Lunge didn't have much interest in chatting over dinner. It was possible that he'd picked up on his mood or just realized that he'd needed some time to himself -- and he really had. He'd forced as much of the food down as he could, and after that he'd resorted to pacing the small space that their room offered until he threw himself onto his bed and let the time while away. He needed to get his mind off of Bruce and everything that his visit implied. He couldn't be distracted tonight.

The intercom coming on had been a good way to gear Harvey's thoughts back toward the task at hand. It wasn't often that Aguilar spoke, it seemed, but every time he did it was usually to mock Landel. Harvey couldn't argue with that, but it didn't mean that he liked the man. However, when it officially turned to night and the general's message became more pointed, Harvey found himself feeling a little impressed.

They were people, that was true. Their actions had consequences and apparently they could be rewarded for them as well. Aguilar was giving them a chance to put that into practice, and yet Harvey had other plans. It wasn't something he could back out of now, nor was he ever a fan of drugs. But it was still interesting, to see how the general was treating them with more respect while still rubbing into their faces the fact that they were little more than test subjects.

Heading for the basement seemed to be following Landel's track rather than Aguilar's. Harvey wished that he could find an option that didn't benefit either one, but thus far he'd come up with nothing. Either way, he had no intention of letting Aguilar's offer pull him from his own plans. He had a ragtag group to meet, and so he continued to say nothing to his roommate as he moved off of his bed and gathered his inventory for the night.

First, though, he made sure to change from the old, drab uniform into what the military had given them, finding it more comfortable and better fitted to the job. He made sure to pull the boots on as well. As for items, the flashlight was a no-brainer, but he decided to leave his radio since he was sure one of the others would bring one. His gun was tucked into the band of his pants and he finally grabbed his axe from under his bed, not knowing if it would be needed but not wanting to take any chances.

Finally, he turned to Lunge. "We're heading to the last part of the basement tonight." There was something implied there; if he didn't show up tomorrow, at least his roommate would know why. He didn't think it would be that bad, but it was still better to get the word out. "I'll give you the details tomorrow," he continued after a pause, since he was certainly planning to get out of this alive.

With that all taken care of, Harvey exited his room and moved down the hall. He was going to make sure he wasn't the last person to arrive.

[To here.]

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Of all the things Depth Charge hadn't been expecting, one of them was that he was going to sleep through dinner. Seriously? Seriously? After all the sleeping he'd done the night before?

Maybe it had been for the best, after the visitor he'd had. He'd been so furious, so disgusted, so sick to his spark-

Suffice to say, the Maximal was not pleased when he woke up to the sound of General Aguilar ranting at them about... forget it. He wasn't going to waste his time analysing that scrap when he had a double-date with a band of misfits, a basement and the potential means to make an impact to get ready for. As he scrambled out of bed and fished the various weapons out of his possessions box, he caught something about the guy opening up the medical wing, but he already had his own obvious death-trap to deal with tonight.

Right. The flashlight would just be extra stuff to carry when he needed his hands free and he'd had his crutches taken away from him already, which meant he'd be flying solo tonight in terms of inventory. Which worked just fine for him. They'd given him weapons before, so if the Institute wanted to play a game with him tonight it wasn't too much of a leap to figure they'd help him out again.

Unless they'd just been screwing with them the whole time and they were about to walk into certain death, of course.

That was pretty likely.

There was just one more thing he needed to do before he left. He turned to the Scarecrow, expression steely. He'd already spared his roommate the trauma of dealing with any latent Protoform X-related fury; it felt cheap to then knock him down with this. "Scarecrow. I'm heading down to the basement again." A pause. "There's a chance I won't be coming back. A small one- I'm not letting them take me without a fight- but there's still a chance."

What was he supposed to say now? This little speech sounded good and sincere, maybe, but he now he was starting to wonder if this was a good idea. The Scarecrow needed him, so- "Take care of yourself, okay?" he interrupted abruptly. Interuppted himself, at least. And then he was gone.

No regrets, DC. Not this time.

A numb nod was the only thing the Scarecrow could manage as Depth Charge closed the door behind him. Dinner had been mostly in silence, especially once the strawman realized his roommate probably going to the basement again, in spite of the dangers involved. A night or two of rest, and then they were going to try again- that was what Sangamon had said, wasn't it? So the chances they were heading down again were pretty high.

And Depth Charge's actions confirmed it: the gathering of his things, what he'd said, the mention that he might not return. Even if the chances of that were slim, the thought of losing another friend hurt the Scarecrow somewhere in his chest in a way he couldn't quite describe. His own troubles- not making it outside of the walls, his injured arms- seemed so trivial by comparison to what Depth Charge was facing. Maybe if he'd had more of a brain, he'd have realized it sooner.

And what else could he have realized with a working brain? Something more productive than his two failed attempts in a row at making it to town. Yes, he and Carter had made it over the wall, but with his arms being so injured as a result, it seemed all progress took more steps backward than forward. General Aguilar said those who had been around for longer than most were useful for one reason or another, but the Scarecrow couldn't see how that applied to him. And there was so much to think about in regards to the rest of the nightly announcement: that they were there for a reason, that they could and would be used in any way the General saw fit, and that the return of the nurses for the day had been for the visitors after all.

He frowned, thinking of Dorothy. If he didn't continue to make any progress, would they still keep him around? Or would he be brainwashed and sent on his way? Just what had happened to her? He certainly couldn't help her if he was brainwashed himself, that was for sure.

Silence filled the room again. Slowly getting to his feet to collect his things, the Scarecrow kept running through the multitude of thoughts in his head, trying to sort them out. He stayed in the outfit of the institute for now, thinking he'd stay out of the cold for the night. Flashlight, journal, knife and watch... and with a pause, he grabbed the two-way radio. He liked to think that Depth Charge would contact him, should he need help.

But what could a strawman really do?

[To here.]

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