DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Night 58: M41-M50 Hallway
serious
corvus_veritas wrote in damned
[M41]

For the first time that Byrne could remember in the four or five days he'd been here, the night began without any sort of dramatic fanfare. No mysterious intercom broadcast, no creepy static, no doctors coming in to drag him away again, no nothing. Just the usual unlocking of the doors and silence.

The staff were trying to find new ways to scare people, huh? Well it wasn't going to work for this patient. Try being scary all you want. Nothing could match last night's torture session, and he was past that now. See if he cared!

...So he thought to himself as he let out a huge sigh of relief. Oh thank god. Never had he been so thankful to know that night was here. Dinner had ended without anyone coming for him, and he could now be free to seek out the one man he trusted more than anyone else. It was a lucky break. What could go wrong now?

Byrne collected himself mentally, then searched his desk drawer out of habit for that damn flashlight that was never there. It appeared for everyone else, didn't it? They were just screwing with him now, he bet. No matter. He'd survive. The Yatagarasu didn't need flashlights! The light of truth and justice could shine in any sort of darkness...

After yet another inner pep talk, he nodded his head at his roommate and then made his way out to the hall.

Hang tight, Badd. I'll be there soon.

[Skipping ahead to here.]

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[From here.]

Once in the hallway where his room was located, the Scarecrow couldn't keep himself from running straight to the door, knocking on it loudly before trying the handle. "Depth Charge! Are you in there?"

To his surprise, the door opened just fine- even more shocking was that his roommate was alive, well, and apparently asleep in his bed. Had he been returned to the room immediately after they left? And if so, why not both of them? It was puzzling to the point where the Scarecrow wasn't sure he believed it. Though he didn't know if it was rude or not to awaken those sleeping, but he wanted answers.

Crossing the room in a few steps, he stopped by Depth Charge's bedside, putting a hand on his roommate's shoulder. "Hey, Depth Charge. Surely you can't be asleep now!"

And yet, he was. Though the Scarecrow thought he wouldn't sleep for a week after the events of the day— too many thoughts running through him, and far too much to think about said thoughts— it appeared Depth Charge had no problems with it; however, something was strange. In spite of all the shaking, he didn't budge. It was too similar to the poppy field to be a coincidence. They had to have magicked him back to his room and put him to sleep for one reason or another. But what was that reason?

It seemed the Scarecrow wouldn't be finding out yet as the intercom chimed to life.

Oh, so he did have blue hair. Now Carter remembered seeing flashes of him in the cafeteria, though always moving too fast in a mass of other prisoners to be paid more than a moment's attention. With a name like Depth Charge he probably actually was an alien, a matter he would have to question the large man on once he was awake.

But for now, he seemed intent on sleeping. Carter watched Frank with mild confusion. When the shaking produced no effect, he went to try and pull the limber man back from his friend. "Maybe he just wants to sleep. He'll be safe here, you know, nobody comes into the rooms." He'd spent a full night cowering in his cell, until he'd finally nodded off with his crowbar cradled in his arms.

The intercom clicked on and Carter listened to the message with a slight frown. He wasn't sure what they were talking about, but the intercom always talked about random things he didn't understand. At least the basic concepts translated well to a 1940s spy. "Hope nobody snitches. I wouldn't, but there's some guys around here who aren't the nicest."

The Scarecrow took a step from the bed as Carter pulled him back, his look of utter confusion over Depth Charge becoming one of mild panic as the intercom spoke of something far too close to what had happened to be a coincidence. Somehow, the military knew they'd been given a false name. He wasn't sure how, but that, unfortunately, made the most sense with what the General was saying.

Though from the sound of it, they hadn't been able to figure out on their own who the traitor was, since he was the one the patients were instructed to see about turning the name in. There was relief to be found in that fact, however small. A part of him wanted to race to the Chapel, to tell Major Harrington that Rosemarie might be in danger and that he ought to take whatever steps were necessary to keep something bad from happening to her; however, he reasoned that would only make things worse, possibly even raising suspicion about Harrington's identity. He couldn't let that happen.

That left taking the opposite approach: getting as far from the institute for the night as possible. He didn't know what consequences the patients would be facing for his and Depth Charge's refusal- to be honest, he didn't want to know. The thought was too horrible to think of.

He put on a smile, though even he could feel it was transparent. "Y- you're right. I'm sure no one would do that, especially if the person is trying to help us." He grabbed his flashlight from the drawer and his coat from the closet, then headed for the box on his bed and grabbed the watch. He turned the knob on the side a few times, the ticking sound a familiarity for which he was grateful.

He then returned to Carter's side. "I'm ready anytime you are."

"Right!"

Carter made sure he had his notebook and his radio on him before taking Frank's hand. He braced himself, then punched the wall with his ring hand.

[To here.]

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