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damned_lounge2008-10-31 10:35 pm
callie-chan.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_lounge2008-10-31 10:35 pm
Entry tags:
Oktoberfest '08 BONUS, McLandel's by Callie
Title: McLandel's
Author: Callie
Beta: Sakki, Tiassa
Word Count: 3,975
Rating: PG-13 for language, I guess?
Characters: Dias, Ashton, Claude, Jade, Guy, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Schuldig, Farfarello, Yohji, Artemis, Demyx, Ginji, Matsuda, Hanatarou, L, Jason Bourne, SECRET CHARACTERS
Pairing(s): Dias/Ashton and Guy/Claude (I MAINTAIN MY PREVIOUS POSITION ON THESE TWO) are the only two pairings that are noticeable. Schuldig pairings are still in effect from last fic but not at all referenced. :D
Summary: The resistance's reconnaissance goes terribly awry, and things get a hell of a lot worse before they start getting better.
Notes: Takes place not long after my last Oktoberfest fic. :3 YES, I WROTE TWO. No, I don't know why. Sorry I hit less characters this time, but I focused more on just one group than the last fic.
Schwarz was late. Again. It would never stop putting them on edge, Claude suspected - after all, Schuldig knew more about the resistance than anyone else did thanks to his telepathy, and was their group's primary scout besides; if anything happened to him, it could easily be catastrophic - but it was hardly a surprise anymore. Schuldig liked his dramatic entrances, and the fact was that Schwarz was almost irritatingly competent and self-reliant. They'd encountered the least problems of any group of the resistance; worrying about them, however practical, was probably also unnecessary.
Anyway, there was plenty to do in the meantime. A few of the scouts from the other groups had already reported in; Ashton was adding to their group's map, which was growing more comprehensive with each meeting. Dias and Guy - who, much to Claude's gratification, got along relatively well - were working on sharpening the blades Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan relied on; while they'd long ago shown the Jedi how to maintain their weapons, the fact was that whetstones came in pretty short supply, and their two stayed with Dias and Guy. Jade and his group made use of Guy's, while Dias, Claude, and Ashton usually had more call for one than the Jedi did, so it only made sense for it to stay with them. And while, technically, the Jedi could have sharpened their own weapons while they were all together like this, Claude suspected that Dias, at least, liked the familiar, repetitive activity, while Guy was simply too friendly not to offer.
There was also the matter of the band group, as they'd already come to be known. Schuldig had declared them worthless idiots, but now that they'd actually made contact, Claude had decided (not for the first time) that the telepath was an asshole who didn't know what he was talking about. While the band group was pretty...naive, in their own way, they were friendly and worked together really well. And what was more, they were surprisingly effective in combat - the combination of Demyx's water powers with Ginji's electricity had been proven absolutely devastating, and they had a strong healer (and healers were an incredibly precious commodity) in Hanatarou, with Matsuda handling strategy and more mundane attacks with his gun. It was no wonder they'd lasted so long, naive or not. It was just a matter of working out how to incorporate them properly, whether to combine them with another group or -
Come here.
The command went straight through Claude's brain into his muscles, and he was jerked convulsively out of his chair; he'd staggered into a graceless (and painful) drop to his knees almost before he'd processed just what had happened. He hardly needed to look to see that Dias and Guy had both snapped their attention to him, but he was too busy catching his breath from the shock to reassure them immediately.
What the hell had that been...?
I don't have time to fuck around. COME HERE.
He shot to his feet, although this time it was only half the product of the command and half his own alarmed reaction. He hardly even noticed that he'd nearly cracked Guy in the jaw with his head where his friend had moved closer to check on him. "Schuldig," he gasped in belated explanation. "I think something's wrong."
Now he had everyone's attention. Dias was on his feet, eyes narrowed and moving closer, while the Jedi exchanged glances - judging by the way Obi-Wan closed his eyes, Claude wondered if he was trying to reach out through his Force to make contact with Schuldig somehow. "What is it?" Dias demanded.
"I don't know..." Claude's voice trailed off; Schuldig had sounded angry, urgent, in a way that was somehow terrifying. The telepath was smug, mocking, amused, lazy - he was never in a hurry for anything. He was never bothered by anything. It was annoying, but at the same time there was also a tiny element of reassurance to it. Anything that could alarm him, that could make every second matter to him...
And why wasn't he in contact? After the last outburst, there had been nothing. Even knowing it was pointless, Claude tried to concentrate, as though he could reach the telepath if he focused enough -
"He's not far away," Obi-Wan said suddenly, interrupting Claude's thoughts and drawing something like relief from him. Maybe Schuldig had opted to switch his contact to Obi-Wan instead. But his relief was short-lived, because now Obi-Wan sounded worried. "He's hurt. And he's alone."
There was a brief exchange of glances, and then Claude, Dias, Guy, and Obi-Wan all moved for the door simultaneously, grabbing for weapons. Schwarz was tight-knit even by refugee standards. If Schuldig was hurt and the other members weren't with him, things had gone terribly wrong indeed. Ashton moved to stand, but Dias' clipped voice stopped him. "We don't need everyone - you stay and finish the map. We're going to need it later, anyway."
Ashton sank back into his chair, worried eyes seeking out Qui-Gon, who had little comfort to offer. Still, he tried, by saying the one thing he was certain of. "They'll be back."
-----
It was nearly an hour before the group returned, Dias and Guy leading the way with Schuldig supported between them. Ashton half-rose to go to them, saw their burden, and abruptly sat down again, white-faced, his lips pressed tightly together as the telepath was settled onto the disintegrating couch.
Schuldig had certainly seen better days. His coat was stained with blood - although little of it seemed to be his own. More alarming was his leg, which was clearly broken and bent at an agonizing angle. His face was even paler than Ashton's, eyes fever-bright in comparison. His features had always been angular, but in his pain and distress they seemed to have sharpened even further, his expression almost feral with the desperate fury of a caged animal.
"We would've been back earlier," Obi-Wan murmured, moving to kneel beside the couch to examine Schuldig's leg. It would be difficult to set, that was certain from a single glance. "But Farfarello and Yohji demanded attention, as well - Schuldig had to travel some distance to get into range to contact us, so we had to backtrack a bit to treat them." The other two had been, if anything, worse off than Schuldig was; Farfarello had nearly lost an arm, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it would ever work properly again, assuming it healed without massive infection, while Yohji's labored breathing suggested he'd collapsed a lung. Guy had already taken off for the next nearest camp; both men needed a healer's attention, and outside of Artemis, their little group didn't have one.
"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked before Ashton could, if only because he felt that the young man would stammer out panicky questions and Schuldig was obviously too much on edge as it was. A soothing touch was clearly needed.
"I found the general," Schuldig growled. "That's what fucking happened. I don't know how they were tipped off, but they knew we'd be there, listening in on their goddamn conference. Knew I'd be listening in. The general was fucking bait." He was livid, shaking with what could have been fury or pain or shock or any combination thereof. "They drew us in; they must have coached the bastards in how to mislead me because I didn't see their intentions until it was almost too late. And then - " He snapped his fingers. "I was shut out. It must've been something like the technology they used in the institute, that kept me out of the minds of the staff - one second I could read them, the next there was nothing. And then security swarmed us." His nostrils were flaring with every sharp inhalation. "They caught Artemis. We couldn't even get to him - as it was, we practically killed ourselves getting our own asses out of there."
"But he's just a child - " Ashton started, clearly devastated.
"Shut up," Schuldig snarled, and it was probably only his obvious injury and distress that saved him a sharp backhand from Dias, who nonetheless rocked forward a step with eyes blazing. "Did they ever care before? Anyway, we lucked out, in the end. They chased us - I won't say we drew out the pursuit on purpose, but it actually worked out in our favor. Right near the end, they passed the effective range of whatever was keeping me out of their minds - I was able to find out where they're taking him."
"Where?" Obi-Wan asked. Clearly a rescue operation was in order, although with Schwarz almost entirely out of commission they were certainly short on manpower -
Schuldig grinned. It was an absolutely mirthless thing, and all the more alarming for that - the Mastermind found amusement in the direst things. "Oh, you're going to love this part."
-----
"Doyle's Institute?" Claude breathed. They were too far away for whispering to be at all necessary, but what he was looking at just made his skin crawl and he somehow couldn't bring himself to raise his voice.
"Like having a nightmare twice, isn't it?" Schuldig was still wearing the vicious, somehow angry smirk he'd worn two days ago, although at least his face was less pale now that his leg had been set (with no small amount of difficulty) and he had a makeshift crutch to lean on. "Apparently these places are a fucking chain. This one just happens to be the closest."
"How many of them are there?" Dias growled. It didn't take a close observer to note the way his free hand was clenched, or a telepath to know that the hand clutching the hilt of his sword was probably white all the way to the wrist with the force of his grip. "As if the one weren't enough - "
"I don't know," Schuldig replied, voice curiously and momentarily flat. "As for the ones I was able to ferret out the existence of - in excess of six, Landel's and Doyle's included."
"That's..." Ashton's voice was shaking. Clearly there was no proper word for what that was. "How many people do they have prisoner? Who do they have?" His eyes widened suddenly, as the inescapable possibility crossed his mind that all their friends who had never appeared in Landel's might have been, or still were, in other institutes.
"Stop asking me this stuff," Schuldig grumbled. "It's too much, okay? And even if it weren't, I don't have access to all that. All I know is that Arty is in this one, and we need to get him out. I managed to shield his mind from the memory wipe - it's a fucking good thing you got me here fast - but they know it didn't work. They're going to fuck with him somehow and we need to get him out before they do."
"How do you suggest we accomplish that?" Qui-Gon asked. They needed a devil's advocate, someone to point out the dangers before Schuldig sent them rushing in there headlong in his haste and rage. "I assume that if we get too close, our powers will become dampened again. And, as you said, the staff are off-limits to you regardless."
Schuldig grinned. "Well, fortunately, not all of us need our powers to be effective. I think a good old-fashioned raid will do the trick; remember, during the day, the staff are just armed with burly men and needles. We've got guns, swords, powers - limited or not - and a hell of a lot of people who can all attack at once. And Bourne's got a truck; we can jury-rig it into a car bomb with supplies from L's group. Bomb the entrance around midday, then storm in and kill everyone in a white uniform until we find Arty. If we bring some homemade bombs for backup, we could probably reduce another institute to rubble after we've gotten him, too - which means a lot more resistance members for us with the ones we help escape."
Claude chewed his lower lip. "I don't know...killing the staff? I know what they're like at night, but during the day - I'm not sure they're really bad people. And it seems wrong to just - slaughter them while they can't even fight back." He sighed. "But I guess there's not much choice."
"Exactly." Schuldig looked down at the all-too-similar building, eyes distant. "Enforcers of a corrupt regime and all that crap. I'd rather kill the lot of them than lose one of us." His gaze slid briefly to Claude. "Granted, I'd probably kill all of them for a piece of pie. It wouldn't even have to be good pie. So your mileage may vary."
Claude resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though he knew Schuldig must be aware he'd been tempted all the same. "No, you're right. We have to do what we have to, I guess."
Obi-Wan glanced at Schuldig. "Artemis was the one for elaborate plans, Schuldig. How do you suggest we go about this?"
Schuldig laughed shortly. "It may surprise you to hear, but before the boss came along, I was the one who made all our plans. Why the hell do you think they call me Mastermind?" He waved a hand absently. "Gather everyone together. I already know what to do. This is hardly the first oppressive preternatural organization I've toppled."
-----
Artemis wasn't even able to scream anymore; he suspected the occasional coppery taste in his mouth was from shrieking his throat so raw that it was bleeding. The sedatives he'd been given weren't helping; he was too tired to even lift his head anymore. All he could do was huddle in the corner of his new, nightmarishly familiar room, curled up as tightly on himself as he could as though it would somehow shelter him from the overwhelming pain.
It was all too much, too loud, and there wasn't even a hint of shelter from it. It might have given him an entirely new appreciation for Schuldig and the telepath'squestionable sanity, if he'd had room in his head for anything beyond please stop it's too much it hurts -
His magnificent mind, utterly out of control and torturing him. Yes, they must be pleased with themselves. The new head doctor - what had been his name? Daniels, he thought it was - must be delighted with his handiwork.
It was precisely because his mind hadn't adjusted, that it was beyond his conscious direction, that he wasn't aware of their approach. But suddenly the entire building shook, lights flickering, and once Artemis realized it wasn't a product of his own agony he did manage to lift his head, if just from the shock. What could cause that during the day - ?
And then suddenly his door opened - was thrown open - and one of the faces he'd been sure he'd never see again was there, looking down at him.
"Schuldig?" he rasped, not daring to believe it. A hallucination from the pain, it had to be...except why would he hallucinate a crutch? Was he that far gone that even his delusions had ceased to make sense?
"In the flesh," the redhead replied, smiling - but even the smile was wrong, he looked too drawn and worried for it to be right. "I think you need to sleep for awhile." And Schuldig extended a hand, and Artemis slipped almost seamlessly into oblivion. Not quite quickly enough for him to fail to feel overwhelming relief as the pain faded into nothingness with him, however.
-----
Overrunning the institute during the daylight hours had been, perhaps, the best idea Schuldig had ever had. Even now, Claude could scarcely believe how perfectly everything had gone; properly armed, the orderlies hadn't had a hope of touching them, particularly not with all their combat experience of having lived out in the wilderness fending off attacks from monsters and government agents alike for so long. During the night, the monstrous staff would have been an even match for any of them, but during dayshift there was simply nothing the staff could do to oppose them properly. And once the detachment Schuldig had directed to track down the power suppressors had taken them out...
It had all been over in less than an hour, all told. And the liberated patients had been all too eager to help their saviors level the place.
It had been far better, overall, than the destruction of Landel's - vastly more organized. They'd gotten the patients out first, for one thing; there'd been no fatalities on the patient side of things. After all, the staff wasn't armed with any sort of lethal weapons; at worst, they'd just had to drag out those who'd been drugged at the start of the riot. It had been a complete rout, and in a single day the resistance's numbers had swelled impossibly. In a way, it was almost too complicated; Claude wasn't sure what they were going to do with them all. Not all of them could be counted on to cooperate with them, obviously, but even taking that into account there would simply be too many groups to manage.
However, the files they'd secured from an intact institute had given them the locations of several other of what Schuldig had dubbed as the 'McLandel's'. There was no denying that overwhelming numbers - particularly when most of them were armed with their own weapons, raided from the patient possessions room - would be extremely helpful for future raids.
Still, Claude couldn't help feeling guilty. They hadn't moved quickly enough; Artemis had already become yet another victim of experimentation before they'd ever arrived. At first he couldn't understand how their making Artemis a telepath was a punishment, not when they all knew from Schuldig's example that it would add so much functionality to Artemis' already considerable talents, but Schuldig had assured them, coldly, that it was - particularly when forced onto an unprepared mind that had never had to cope with such a thing before. And the state that they'd found the boy in had certainly confirmed that observation; Farfarello had suggested the possibility that they'd been trying to make him lose his gifted mind in the most painful way possible.
But Artemis was still sane, thankfully, and Schuldig had left with him to sequester the boy away from the presence of invasive minds until he'd taught the boy how to handle his newfound talents, so hopefully what had been intended to be a horrific punishment would wind up being a magnificent gift. He could only imagine how dangerous Schwarz would be with two brilliant telepaths at their disposal.
Honestly, though, Artemis was the least of their concerns now. He was afraid the resistance was going to split itself apart under the strain introduced by their new knowledge. The possibility of friends being trapped in other institutes was bad enough; the shock of finding a deeply grateful (and characteristically demonstrative) Celine among the rescued patients still had Claude reeling. Dias himself was one of the people most adamant about attacking the next institute with all haste, and Claude suspected he knew why - somewhere, Dias no doubt feared, Rena was suffering at the hands of a head doctor. It was a horrible thought...but Claude was one of the people the groups looked to for guidance now(even if he wasn't quite sure how that had happened), and he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him.
But there was another, even more pressing reason to seek out other institutes, and Claude suspected that once Schuldig had finished tutoring Artemis and had time to turn his attention to their actions again, the pressure to act would become unbearable. The patients of other institutes didn't just include people who'd never been at Landel's, but ones who had...Colonel Mustang had been among the patients recovered, even if he'd been woefully ignorant as to why so many people he didn't remember were delighted to see him. (That had taken quite a bit of explaining.) Everyone wanted to rush off, hoping against hope their friends who had vanished from Landel's were waiting for them in another institute, and Claude knew that Schuldig would be at the head of any movement in that direction once he was no longer distracted.
And it wasn't as though Claude didn't sympathize. He was still faintly flushed with embarrassment about it - and he still couldn't quite breathe right - but he'd actually cried with the shock and relief and pure joy of finding Leon - Leon - among the new refugees. The boy still wasn't quite sure why everyone was making such a fuss over him, which was just as well; Claude figured it was far better if he didn't remember such things as, say, dying.
As much as he hated the institutes, Claude would never stop being grateful that they'd given him a second chance, no matter how they'd done so. Not all mistakes, apparently, were irrevocable.
"Claude."
The blond blinked, his gaze snapping up to Dias. Damn; he'd completely lost track of the conversation. "Sorry," he said guiltily. "I was just thinking."
Dias' eyes narrowed, but Claude had finally begun to be able to read his rival better, and he recognized that Dias' look was more scrutiny than annoyance. "You look ready to pass out."
Claude hadn't even realized how tired he was until Dias mentioned that, and he suddenly had to fight down a yawn. He really was on the verge of falling asleep on his feet. But - "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.
"Nonsense, Claude darling." Celine's light fingers rested on his shoulders. "You boys are the heroes of the day, and you've been hard at work for hours. Go get some rest!"
"Yeah," Leon chimed in. "I'm sure a couple mages are more suited for organizing complex things like this, anyway."
Claude snorted - mostly in amusement - and even Dias didn't seem to have the heart to be annoyed with the boy today of all days, settling for a simple roll of his eyes instead of one of his deadly glares. "Are you sure? You're not really fully oriented yet..."
"Positive." Celine shooed - well, more like pushed, in a way that was not nearly as delicate as she'd like people to believe she was - Claude away from the table, where they'd been doing their best to compile a list of names. It was already shockingly long. "Off with you, now! You're no good to us anyway when you're half-dead, darling. And that goes for you, as well," she added in a voice that was rather less genial, giving Dias a gimlet glare that was nearly a match for anything his rival could manage and which Dias, wisely, chose not to fight at that particular moment. Judging by the way Ashton leaned into Dias immediately as soon as the swordsman settled down beside him on the floor, Ashton was glad for the warmth and company anyway.
As for Claude...Guy had caught his eye across the room, and was grinning in what would have looked like a totally innocent way if he hadn't had that sly glint in his eyes. When Guy headed outside, Claude was only too happy to follow - their headquarters had definitely grown cramped over the course of the day's activities.
There was so much to be done - but now more than ever, Claude knew they wouldn't have to do it alone. Heck, with the amount of help they had now, he'd be lucky to find anything to do tomorrow.
He was pretty sure he knew what he'd be doing tonight, though.
Author: Callie
Beta: Sakki, Tiassa
Word Count: 3,975
Rating: PG-13 for language, I guess?
Characters: Dias, Ashton, Claude, Jade, Guy, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Schuldig, Farfarello, Yohji, Artemis, Demyx, Ginji, Matsuda, Hanatarou, L, Jason Bourne, SECRET CHARACTERS
Pairing(s): Dias/Ashton and Guy/Claude (I MAINTAIN MY PREVIOUS POSITION ON THESE TWO) are the only two pairings that are noticeable. Schuldig pairings are still in effect from last fic but not at all referenced. :D
Summary: The resistance's reconnaissance goes terribly awry, and things get a hell of a lot worse before they start getting better.
Notes: Takes place not long after my last Oktoberfest fic. :3 YES, I WROTE TWO. No, I don't know why. Sorry I hit less characters this time, but I focused more on just one group than the last fic.
Schwarz was late. Again. It would never stop putting them on edge, Claude suspected - after all, Schuldig knew more about the resistance than anyone else did thanks to his telepathy, and was their group's primary scout besides; if anything happened to him, it could easily be catastrophic - but it was hardly a surprise anymore. Schuldig liked his dramatic entrances, and the fact was that Schwarz was almost irritatingly competent and self-reliant. They'd encountered the least problems of any group of the resistance; worrying about them, however practical, was probably also unnecessary.
Anyway, there was plenty to do in the meantime. A few of the scouts from the other groups had already reported in; Ashton was adding to their group's map, which was growing more comprehensive with each meeting. Dias and Guy - who, much to Claude's gratification, got along relatively well - were working on sharpening the blades Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan relied on; while they'd long ago shown the Jedi how to maintain their weapons, the fact was that whetstones came in pretty short supply, and their two stayed with Dias and Guy. Jade and his group made use of Guy's, while Dias, Claude, and Ashton usually had more call for one than the Jedi did, so it only made sense for it to stay with them. And while, technically, the Jedi could have sharpened their own weapons while they were all together like this, Claude suspected that Dias, at least, liked the familiar, repetitive activity, while Guy was simply too friendly not to offer.
There was also the matter of the band group, as they'd already come to be known. Schuldig had declared them worthless idiots, but now that they'd actually made contact, Claude had decided (not for the first time) that the telepath was an asshole who didn't know what he was talking about. While the band group was pretty...naive, in their own way, they were friendly and worked together really well. And what was more, they were surprisingly effective in combat - the combination of Demyx's water powers with Ginji's electricity had been proven absolutely devastating, and they had a strong healer (and healers were an incredibly precious commodity) in Hanatarou, with Matsuda handling strategy and more mundane attacks with his gun. It was no wonder they'd lasted so long, naive or not. It was just a matter of working out how to incorporate them properly, whether to combine them with another group or -
Come here.
The command went straight through Claude's brain into his muscles, and he was jerked convulsively out of his chair; he'd staggered into a graceless (and painful) drop to his knees almost before he'd processed just what had happened. He hardly needed to look to see that Dias and Guy had both snapped their attention to him, but he was too busy catching his breath from the shock to reassure them immediately.
What the hell had that been...?
I don't have time to fuck around. COME HERE.
He shot to his feet, although this time it was only half the product of the command and half his own alarmed reaction. He hardly even noticed that he'd nearly cracked Guy in the jaw with his head where his friend had moved closer to check on him. "Schuldig," he gasped in belated explanation. "I think something's wrong."
Now he had everyone's attention. Dias was on his feet, eyes narrowed and moving closer, while the Jedi exchanged glances - judging by the way Obi-Wan closed his eyes, Claude wondered if he was trying to reach out through his Force to make contact with Schuldig somehow. "What is it?" Dias demanded.
"I don't know..." Claude's voice trailed off; Schuldig had sounded angry, urgent, in a way that was somehow terrifying. The telepath was smug, mocking, amused, lazy - he was never in a hurry for anything. He was never bothered by anything. It was annoying, but at the same time there was also a tiny element of reassurance to it. Anything that could alarm him, that could make every second matter to him...
And why wasn't he in contact? After the last outburst, there had been nothing. Even knowing it was pointless, Claude tried to concentrate, as though he could reach the telepath if he focused enough -
"He's not far away," Obi-Wan said suddenly, interrupting Claude's thoughts and drawing something like relief from him. Maybe Schuldig had opted to switch his contact to Obi-Wan instead. But his relief was short-lived, because now Obi-Wan sounded worried. "He's hurt. And he's alone."
There was a brief exchange of glances, and then Claude, Dias, Guy, and Obi-Wan all moved for the door simultaneously, grabbing for weapons. Schwarz was tight-knit even by refugee standards. If Schuldig was hurt and the other members weren't with him, things had gone terribly wrong indeed. Ashton moved to stand, but Dias' clipped voice stopped him. "We don't need everyone - you stay and finish the map. We're going to need it later, anyway."
Ashton sank back into his chair, worried eyes seeking out Qui-Gon, who had little comfort to offer. Still, he tried, by saying the one thing he was certain of. "They'll be back."
It was nearly an hour before the group returned, Dias and Guy leading the way with Schuldig supported between them. Ashton half-rose to go to them, saw their burden, and abruptly sat down again, white-faced, his lips pressed tightly together as the telepath was settled onto the disintegrating couch.
Schuldig had certainly seen better days. His coat was stained with blood - although little of it seemed to be his own. More alarming was his leg, which was clearly broken and bent at an agonizing angle. His face was even paler than Ashton's, eyes fever-bright in comparison. His features had always been angular, but in his pain and distress they seemed to have sharpened even further, his expression almost feral with the desperate fury of a caged animal.
"We would've been back earlier," Obi-Wan murmured, moving to kneel beside the couch to examine Schuldig's leg. It would be difficult to set, that was certain from a single glance. "But Farfarello and Yohji demanded attention, as well - Schuldig had to travel some distance to get into range to contact us, so we had to backtrack a bit to treat them." The other two had been, if anything, worse off than Schuldig was; Farfarello had nearly lost an arm, and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it would ever work properly again, assuming it healed without massive infection, while Yohji's labored breathing suggested he'd collapsed a lung. Guy had already taken off for the next nearest camp; both men needed a healer's attention, and outside of Artemis, their little group didn't have one.
"What happened?" Qui-Gon asked before Ashton could, if only because he felt that the young man would stammer out panicky questions and Schuldig was obviously too much on edge as it was. A soothing touch was clearly needed.
"I found the general," Schuldig growled. "That's what fucking happened. I don't know how they were tipped off, but they knew we'd be there, listening in on their goddamn conference. Knew I'd be listening in. The general was fucking bait." He was livid, shaking with what could have been fury or pain or shock or any combination thereof. "They drew us in; they must have coached the bastards in how to mislead me because I didn't see their intentions until it was almost too late. And then - " He snapped his fingers. "I was shut out. It must've been something like the technology they used in the institute, that kept me out of the minds of the staff - one second I could read them, the next there was nothing. And then security swarmed us." His nostrils were flaring with every sharp inhalation. "They caught Artemis. We couldn't even get to him - as it was, we practically killed ourselves getting our own asses out of there."
"But he's just a child - " Ashton started, clearly devastated.
"Shut up," Schuldig snarled, and it was probably only his obvious injury and distress that saved him a sharp backhand from Dias, who nonetheless rocked forward a step with eyes blazing. "Did they ever care before? Anyway, we lucked out, in the end. They chased us - I won't say we drew out the pursuit on purpose, but it actually worked out in our favor. Right near the end, they passed the effective range of whatever was keeping me out of their minds - I was able to find out where they're taking him."
"Where?" Obi-Wan asked. Clearly a rescue operation was in order, although with Schwarz almost entirely out of commission they were certainly short on manpower -
Schuldig grinned. It was an absolutely mirthless thing, and all the more alarming for that - the Mastermind found amusement in the direst things. "Oh, you're going to love this part."
"Doyle's Institute?" Claude breathed. They were too far away for whispering to be at all necessary, but what he was looking at just made his skin crawl and he somehow couldn't bring himself to raise his voice.
"Like having a nightmare twice, isn't it?" Schuldig was still wearing the vicious, somehow angry smirk he'd worn two days ago, although at least his face was less pale now that his leg had been set (with no small amount of difficulty) and he had a makeshift crutch to lean on. "Apparently these places are a fucking chain. This one just happens to be the closest."
"How many of them are there?" Dias growled. It didn't take a close observer to note the way his free hand was clenched, or a telepath to know that the hand clutching the hilt of his sword was probably white all the way to the wrist with the force of his grip. "As if the one weren't enough - "
"I don't know," Schuldig replied, voice curiously and momentarily flat. "As for the ones I was able to ferret out the existence of - in excess of six, Landel's and Doyle's included."
"That's..." Ashton's voice was shaking. Clearly there was no proper word for what that was. "How many people do they have prisoner? Who do they have?" His eyes widened suddenly, as the inescapable possibility crossed his mind that all their friends who had never appeared in Landel's might have been, or still were, in other institutes.
"Stop asking me this stuff," Schuldig grumbled. "It's too much, okay? And even if it weren't, I don't have access to all that. All I know is that Arty is in this one, and we need to get him out. I managed to shield his mind from the memory wipe - it's a fucking good thing you got me here fast - but they know it didn't work. They're going to fuck with him somehow and we need to get him out before they do."
"How do you suggest we accomplish that?" Qui-Gon asked. They needed a devil's advocate, someone to point out the dangers before Schuldig sent them rushing in there headlong in his haste and rage. "I assume that if we get too close, our powers will become dampened again. And, as you said, the staff are off-limits to you regardless."
Schuldig grinned. "Well, fortunately, not all of us need our powers to be effective. I think a good old-fashioned raid will do the trick; remember, during the day, the staff are just armed with burly men and needles. We've got guns, swords, powers - limited or not - and a hell of a lot of people who can all attack at once. And Bourne's got a truck; we can jury-rig it into a car bomb with supplies from L's group. Bomb the entrance around midday, then storm in and kill everyone in a white uniform until we find Arty. If we bring some homemade bombs for backup, we could probably reduce another institute to rubble after we've gotten him, too - which means a lot more resistance members for us with the ones we help escape."
Claude chewed his lower lip. "I don't know...killing the staff? I know what they're like at night, but during the day - I'm not sure they're really bad people. And it seems wrong to just - slaughter them while they can't even fight back." He sighed. "But I guess there's not much choice."
"Exactly." Schuldig looked down at the all-too-similar building, eyes distant. "Enforcers of a corrupt regime and all that crap. I'd rather kill the lot of them than lose one of us." His gaze slid briefly to Claude. "Granted, I'd probably kill all of them for a piece of pie. It wouldn't even have to be good pie. So your mileage may vary."
Claude resisted the urge to roll his eyes, even though he knew Schuldig must be aware he'd been tempted all the same. "No, you're right. We have to do what we have to, I guess."
Obi-Wan glanced at Schuldig. "Artemis was the one for elaborate plans, Schuldig. How do you suggest we go about this?"
Schuldig laughed shortly. "It may surprise you to hear, but before the boss came along, I was the one who made all our plans. Why the hell do you think they call me Mastermind?" He waved a hand absently. "Gather everyone together. I already know what to do. This is hardly the first oppressive preternatural organization I've toppled."
Artemis wasn't even able to scream anymore; he suspected the occasional coppery taste in his mouth was from shrieking his throat so raw that it was bleeding. The sedatives he'd been given weren't helping; he was too tired to even lift his head anymore. All he could do was huddle in the corner of his new, nightmarishly familiar room, curled up as tightly on himself as he could as though it would somehow shelter him from the overwhelming pain.
It was all too much, too loud, and there wasn't even a hint of shelter from it. It might have given him an entirely new appreciation for Schuldig and the telepath's
His magnificent mind, utterly out of control and torturing him. Yes, they must be pleased with themselves. The new head doctor - what had been his name? Daniels, he thought it was - must be delighted with his handiwork.
It was precisely because his mind hadn't adjusted, that it was beyond his conscious direction, that he wasn't aware of their approach. But suddenly the entire building shook, lights flickering, and once Artemis realized it wasn't a product of his own agony he did manage to lift his head, if just from the shock. What could cause that during the day - ?
And then suddenly his door opened - was thrown open - and one of the faces he'd been sure he'd never see again was there, looking down at him.
"Schuldig?" he rasped, not daring to believe it. A hallucination from the pain, it had to be...except why would he hallucinate a crutch? Was he that far gone that even his delusions had ceased to make sense?
"In the flesh," the redhead replied, smiling - but even the smile was wrong, he looked too drawn and worried for it to be right. "I think you need to sleep for awhile." And Schuldig extended a hand, and Artemis slipped almost seamlessly into oblivion. Not quite quickly enough for him to fail to feel overwhelming relief as the pain faded into nothingness with him, however.
Overrunning the institute during the daylight hours had been, perhaps, the best idea Schuldig had ever had. Even now, Claude could scarcely believe how perfectly everything had gone; properly armed, the orderlies hadn't had a hope of touching them, particularly not with all their combat experience of having lived out in the wilderness fending off attacks from monsters and government agents alike for so long. During the night, the monstrous staff would have been an even match for any of them, but during dayshift there was simply nothing the staff could do to oppose them properly. And once the detachment Schuldig had directed to track down the power suppressors had taken them out...
It had all been over in less than an hour, all told. And the liberated patients had been all too eager to help their saviors level the place.
It had been far better, overall, than the destruction of Landel's - vastly more organized. They'd gotten the patients out first, for one thing; there'd been no fatalities on the patient side of things. After all, the staff wasn't armed with any sort of lethal weapons; at worst, they'd just had to drag out those who'd been drugged at the start of the riot. It had been a complete rout, and in a single day the resistance's numbers had swelled impossibly. In a way, it was almost too complicated; Claude wasn't sure what they were going to do with them all. Not all of them could be counted on to cooperate with them, obviously, but even taking that into account there would simply be too many groups to manage.
However, the files they'd secured from an intact institute had given them the locations of several other of what Schuldig had dubbed as the 'McLandel's'. There was no denying that overwhelming numbers - particularly when most of them were armed with their own weapons, raided from the patient possessions room - would be extremely helpful for future raids.
Still, Claude couldn't help feeling guilty. They hadn't moved quickly enough; Artemis had already become yet another victim of experimentation before they'd ever arrived. At first he couldn't understand how their making Artemis a telepath was a punishment, not when they all knew from Schuldig's example that it would add so much functionality to Artemis' already considerable talents, but Schuldig had assured them, coldly, that it was - particularly when forced onto an unprepared mind that had never had to cope with such a thing before. And the state that they'd found the boy in had certainly confirmed that observation; Farfarello had suggested the possibility that they'd been trying to make him lose his gifted mind in the most painful way possible.
But Artemis was still sane, thankfully, and Schuldig had left with him to sequester the boy away from the presence of invasive minds until he'd taught the boy how to handle his newfound talents, so hopefully what had been intended to be a horrific punishment would wind up being a magnificent gift. He could only imagine how dangerous Schwarz would be with two brilliant telepaths at their disposal.
Honestly, though, Artemis was the least of their concerns now. He was afraid the resistance was going to split itself apart under the strain introduced by their new knowledge. The possibility of friends being trapped in other institutes was bad enough; the shock of finding a deeply grateful (and characteristically demonstrative) Celine among the rescued patients still had Claude reeling. Dias himself was one of the people most adamant about attacking the next institute with all haste, and Claude suspected he knew why - somewhere, Dias no doubt feared, Rena was suffering at the hands of a head doctor. It was a horrible thought...but Claude was one of the people the groups looked to for guidance now(even if he wasn't quite sure how that had happened), and he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him.
But there was another, even more pressing reason to seek out other institutes, and Claude suspected that once Schuldig had finished tutoring Artemis and had time to turn his attention to their actions again, the pressure to act would become unbearable. The patients of other institutes didn't just include people who'd never been at Landel's, but ones who had...Colonel Mustang had been among the patients recovered, even if he'd been woefully ignorant as to why so many people he didn't remember were delighted to see him. (That had taken quite a bit of explaining.) Everyone wanted to rush off, hoping against hope their friends who had vanished from Landel's were waiting for them in another institute, and Claude knew that Schuldig would be at the head of any movement in that direction once he was no longer distracted.
And it wasn't as though Claude didn't sympathize. He was still faintly flushed with embarrassment about it - and he still couldn't quite breathe right - but he'd actually cried with the shock and relief and pure joy of finding Leon - Leon - among the new refugees. The boy still wasn't quite sure why everyone was making such a fuss over him, which was just as well; Claude figured it was far better if he didn't remember such things as, say, dying.
As much as he hated the institutes, Claude would never stop being grateful that they'd given him a second chance, no matter how they'd done so. Not all mistakes, apparently, were irrevocable.
"Claude."
The blond blinked, his gaze snapping up to Dias. Damn; he'd completely lost track of the conversation. "Sorry," he said guiltily. "I was just thinking."
Dias' eyes narrowed, but Claude had finally begun to be able to read his rival better, and he recognized that Dias' look was more scrutiny than annoyance. "You look ready to pass out."
Claude hadn't even realized how tired he was until Dias mentioned that, and he suddenly had to fight down a yawn. He really was on the verge of falling asleep on his feet. But - "I'm fine," he said stubbornly.
"Nonsense, Claude darling." Celine's light fingers rested on his shoulders. "You boys are the heroes of the day, and you've been hard at work for hours. Go get some rest!"
"Yeah," Leon chimed in. "I'm sure a couple mages are more suited for organizing complex things like this, anyway."
Claude snorted - mostly in amusement - and even Dias didn't seem to have the heart to be annoyed with the boy today of all days, settling for a simple roll of his eyes instead of one of his deadly glares. "Are you sure? You're not really fully oriented yet..."
"Positive." Celine shooed - well, more like pushed, in a way that was not nearly as delicate as she'd like people to believe she was - Claude away from the table, where they'd been doing their best to compile a list of names. It was already shockingly long. "Off with you, now! You're no good to us anyway when you're half-dead, darling. And that goes for you, as well," she added in a voice that was rather less genial, giving Dias a gimlet glare that was nearly a match for anything his rival could manage and which Dias, wisely, chose not to fight at that particular moment. Judging by the way Ashton leaned into Dias immediately as soon as the swordsman settled down beside him on the floor, Ashton was glad for the warmth and company anyway.
As for Claude...Guy had caught his eye across the room, and was grinning in what would have looked like a totally innocent way if he hadn't had that sly glint in his eyes. When Guy headed outside, Claude was only too happy to follow - their headquarters had definitely grown cramped over the course of the day's activities.
There was so much to be done - but now more than ever, Claude knew they wouldn't have to do it alone. Heck, with the amount of help they had now, he'd be lucky to find anything to do tomorrow.
He was pretty sure he knew what he'd be doing tonight, though.