DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Day 43: Sun Room, Second Shift
animated
arc_wrench wrote in damned
When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible.

Oh, right. He was supposed to be looking for someone who was "VERY LARGE, WITH DARK HAIR." And also seemed to not know what lower-case letters were on the bulletin. As if that would help. He'd seen a likely candidate last shift, but talk of chocolate had distracted him.

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[assassin available - limit:any]

That had been ridiculous. Starfleet? Phasers? If Beatrix had been a cruel person she'd have informed Chekov his precious space organization came to be from a bunch of fans of a horrible show from the 1970s. Wait. That needed to be rephrased. If Beatrix had been a person that was cruel to children...

Finding herself in the Sun Room, the Bride took up position against the wall not too far from the bulletin board so she could keep an eye on the people coming and going. As she watched the room, her eyes found HK-47 speaking to one of the Cybertronians. At least she assumed he was one of those Decepticons given his large stature, the way he moved, and how much the assassin droid seemed to be sucking up to him.

She kept a discret eye on the pair. This was something she was going to have to relay to SubZero. She was forseeing problems coming from this droid/Decepticon interaction.

[Hope this is okay!]

For someone who rather enjoyed eating, the Scarecrow really hadn't eaten much in the past two days- first was the skipped meals the day before, and then his breakfast with a man who apparently harvested body parts from the bodies of his enemies. The grisly mental imagery that accompanied that description was hopefully worse than reality, but it was still disturbing. Having one's straw and lower half thrown about was a far smaller concern. While he'd still wanted to get some food down before the shift was over and the nurse retrieved him, the Scarecrow wasn't sure he actually could handle any more. He had somehow lost his appetite.

The Scarecrow took a quick look at the bulletin board as he entered the room. Something caught his eye- something more interesting than the usual notes about clubs and such. He only skimmed the notice, but it was enough to entice him.

He turned to ask his nurse a question, but she'd already disappeared from sight. He turned again, looking for the nearest person who didn't seem busy already talking to two or three more people. The room wasn't as full as usual, but he did spot a woman along the wall. She didn't look too busy, unless she was busy thinking. That was the sort of busy that didn't need to be interrupted, but he figured it couldn't hurt too much to try.

"Excuse me, Miss?" he addressed with a smile, taking two steps toward her.

Cold blue eyes flickered over to the man as he voiced his question. Had something on the boards catch his attention?

"Yes?" Beatrix's voice was not quite as cold as her eyes, but friendly was not on her list of facades for the day.

Glad to have her attention, the Scarecrow continued: "I just saw on the board that there are supposed to be visitors visiting certain people today. You wouldn't happen to be able to tell me anything about that, would you? How do we know if we're being visited or not? And who would be visiting us in a place like this?"

He stopped before he bombarded her with more questions, although several more came to mind.

Ah - visitors.

"Your nurse will inform you just before you are taken to the visitor's room if you are recieving one. There is no advance warning," the Bride replied. "They bring people that look and seem very much like someone you know from home, except that person believes you are who the nurses say you are."

Her expression darkened a little as she remembered her own visitor the previous week. Elle, that bitch.

Hm, that was rather disappointing to hear. The Scarecrow frowned as he felt a little more homesick than usual.

"There's not a chance it actually is them, then, and they've just been tricked or enchanted somehow to believe what the nurses say?" he asked, still hopeful.

"That is a possibility," she replied. "No one has been able to tell for sure."

Beatrix pused a moment. "You will not find aid through them. I suggest placing your hope in yourself and not in those from the outside."

"You sound like you've learned through experience," he noted quietly, keeping further optimistic thoughts to himself.

Now that he thought about it, that might explain the lack of people in the Sun Room today. Perhaps some already had visitors? He wasn't sure anyone would be visiting him at all. No one from his home could possibly get here to visit him or to be enchanted into thinking they were someone else.

Then again, if they could bring him here, chances were they could bring anyone else he knew just as easily.

"I had a visitor last week," Beatrix replied. "Though she is not one I would have aksed help from anyways." She watched the man for a moment, wondering exactly what he expected from the visitors. "The one chosen is meant to psychically affect you. Be wary of anything your visitor says should you be unfortunate enough to recieve one."

The Scarecrow couldn't imagine how well it'd go they sent the Witch to visit him, even if it wasn't really her. At least she wasn't a patient here.

"Your visitor wasn't your friend, then?" he surmised. "Or just someone you wouldn't want helping you if she could?"

Contempt mixed with hatred in Beatrix's ice blue eyes. "Neither. Had I been given the chance, I would have killed her in that room."

"She wronged you in some way, surely!" the Scarecrow exclaimed. The look in this woman's eyes told him she was quite serious, but his disbelief didn't give him time to think about it.

"Don't tell me you're one of those bleeding hearts that believes everything should be allowed to live," the Bride replied.

"Well, why not?" That seemed like such a bizarre question. "Living is a pretty wonderful thing, if you ask me."

"There are some people that deserve death," Beatrix replied. "For the actions they've done or for the things they have chosen not to."

"Chosen not to do?" the Scarecrow asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're judging them on action as well as inaction? Who or what determines what's right and wrong in those situations?"

"You do not understand. Choosing not to do something is still making a decision," the Bride clarified. "Right or wrong is something society decides. It is up to us to decide whether to apply those ideals or not."

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