"Where exactly are we going?" Troy asked, beginning to grow nervous from their long time spent walking. By now a good five minutes must have passed by. If they were to walk for any longer, the young man was unsure if they would make it back in time.
"We are going where I want us to go. If you had any problems with such, you would have gone to the cafeteria. Instead, you decided to follow me," Dr Hale answered, not looking back. She sounded cold, only the location stopping her from sounding hateful. Troy understood that it was all meant to be an act of sorts, yet he sometimes wondered how much of it truly was fakery.
She had never been somebody to express herself strongly. It was only a few different times where she had truly gotten angry at him, shouting or looking ready to hit him on the head repeatedly with a rock. Normally, she would have a mask of indifference, but the young man knew that there was more to it. What was inside her? He did not know, and would likely not know for a very long time. It could be that pressure made her reclusive or it could be that an inexpressive face was just her relaxed expression.
Troy knew she was a good actor, at least. While her character now might not have seemed all too different from what she usually portrayed to the world, the small differences in attitude made his perspective of her radically change. Instead of having a silent contempt for life itself and everything around it, her way of life came closer to her hating life, everything inside it, and especially a person named Troy.
A decision was made to not speak again until they arrived at their needed location. Dr Hale seemed to ignore everything related to him while they walked, and he was fine with that. Pushing up wars just for the heck of it was for the french.
Luckily, this silence was not made to last long, as the two arrived at an eerily familiar hallway. That is the hallway for personal rooms. Not the one that Troy had his own in, but one of the many others strewn across the facility. The young man had never been at another of them, mostly due to a lack of need to do so, but seeing one of them now was groundbreaking for the man’s brain. The hall itself continued down much longer than the one he lived at did. Were the different hallways different sizes perhaps? It could have been made to fit the space left, making the change in proportions according to what there was to work with.
"Why are we here?" Troy asked the woman, not understanding the situation himself. When it turned out he would be missing lunch, there had been some expectation of being taken to a secret underground room, just like he had been yesterday. This? This was anything but a secret room.
"Mankind has truly failed. I do remember it is not too long ago where I asked you to not question me," Dr Hale stated, Troy, feeling the daggers that were commonly referred to as her eyes dig into him. And she wasn't even looking at him! She truly could be frightening when she wanted to.
Getting down the hallway, she stopped at one of the doors with practised grace. It took one guess for the man to realise just where they were now. He had still been on the idea of the two finding a hidden place where secrets could be discussed, yet it was becoming clear that they really were going into her room.
And the worst fact about it all? Dr Hale’s room was way nicer than his! It had more space, there was a whole space for kitchen utilities, the bathroom looked to have a bathtub, and even the bed looked to be a double. All in all, the place looked to be on the level of a semi-decent apartment. Troy might not have killed to get something akin to it, but he would not have minded breaking a few legs. Everything was just so… great. Not perfect of course, but it was all big enough for one person to live comfortably. Nothing felt constricted. He could have easily stayed inside the room for days without being uncomfortable at any point.
Troy was pushed aside, as the owner of the place also wanted to enter. He had been standing around for too long at the entrance, just admiring everything around them. What would it take for him to get something like it?
"Did you receive this place when you first got your job or was it a gift after working for a set amount of time or something else entirely…?" Troy asked, trying to figure just how the woman had acquired the place. All people might have been equal in the eyes of an old man with a beard, but there was no way that there wasn't preferential treatment going on before his very eyes. Who decided who got those good rooms. Because let's face it, there was a sharp difference between the cramped place that the young man slept in and the literally apartment-sized room that Dr Hale had access to at any point in her day.
There was no quick answer to his question, as the woman herself blatantly ignored his words. With her walk without pause, Dr Hale reached her bed, a beautiful painting hanging on the wall behind it. Taking off her shoes, she climbed on the furniture, before violently forcing her hand through the printed art. Troy had to silence his wince, as he knew that the print-out could not have been cheap, something of such a size being in the three digits at the minimum. It even had the original protrusion! That required something other than simple editions.
As her fingers had been point outwards, and not enclosed in a fist, Troy had been expecting a certain crunch of broken bones to be heard. It had been the expected result last time the woman har forced her hand into a wall, but she had seemingly survived it without a scratch. The same could not happen again when her hand came in at such a risky position, right? The fingers would not be able to take it!
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Yet they somehow did, and more than just that. They entered the wall, with seemingly no sound other than the arm breaking up more of the printed art. This was originally taken as a feat of inhuman strength, but the truth was quickly realised when the young man actually thought about it for a second.
"Secret stash?" Troy suggested, phrasing his question in a different way this time.
"How observant of you. For a moment, I was afraid you had lost sight of things," Dr Hale answered, breaking the art even further by sticking the other arm in as well and pulling out a very familiar machine. Particularly, it was the one that the young man had spent so much time getting from Charlie.
That name was weirdly resonating in Troy’s head for some reason as if he had forgotten something. Maybe it was something stupid about the man’s naming schemes? He could not remember the jammer getting any specific name attached to it, but he would not be surprised. Hell, the last one had been literally named the Bender. Who could expect Charlie to have any idea of calling his machines anything smart?
Dr Hale gracefully moved down from the bed, placing the machine on a stable surface as she got her shoes back on. Troy thought it a wise time to press the button to get things started, but his hand was swatted away before they even got close.
"Not now," Dr Hale angrily ordered, having gotten up from the bed after getting her shoes back on. "First we have another order of business. Get that shirt of yourself, and sit down. I will be back shortly."
Scathing words shouted, the woman moved towards the bathroom, where she promptly disappeared from view. Troy, one not to disobey direct orders from the house-owner, sat his ass down on the bed, immediately beginning to eye the machine. He had not gotten too close a view of the device, never having the time needed to waste on looking at it. After having gotten hold of it so long ago, it had either been hidden, or he had been too stressed about people finding out about it.
Now? With nothing else to pass the time, the young man pulled the machine over to him, beginning to mess around with it a little. His fingers never settled on the button at the top, but everything else was fair game for him.
It was a curious structure of the design. For the eyes, the entire thing was just what it could be described as. The machine just looked like a metallic disk, with twelve lamps and a single button on top of it. Otherwise, it just looked fully smooth, Troy’s eyes unable to find any imperfections with it. Honestly, if he could get some time to clean the thing, he would be able to see his reflection on it.
However, it was when his fingers got involved that it began to get extra interesting. Previously, he had noted the appearance of small squares able to have six dots inside. Troy had at first been unable to take it as anything but a weird work of art, created by a mind plagued by a weird sense of humour. However, it was when he started to notice a pattern in the squares that a problem began to appear.
This wasn't just a random set of squares. There was writing on that bastard. Now, the young man has always been one to enjoy learning new things on the side of language. He knew a decent amount of tongues, while also having branched out in the hand-based communications.
However, if there was one aspect of it that he had never gotten around to learning, it would be the language for the blind. Braille, ELIA frames, or whatever else format might be used, Troy had never learned the true system behind them. He knew it was made to be accessible to the blind, likely limiting the different combinations.
And with the sheer number of squares present, the man was left to deduce that the different squares indicated different letters. What square indicated what letter? He had no idea at all. And normally, that would be the end of it. He would acknowledge that he had no idea how to solve it, and would then just do something else for the rest of the time. The problem just was that Troy had nothing better to do.
So, armed with nothing but an under-average mind, he set to work decoding a code designed for the blind. Troy had never really gotten too attached to the actual decoding of ancient languages, being more trusting of research done before his time. That looked to be a mistake, as the young man had no idea where to really start. Were there special techniques for it all? There probably was, but it wasn't like he had the option to search for them.
Brute force it was. When it came to finding the right pattern, guessing the answer was always valid. It helped get a better idea of what there was to work with, and Troy honestly had nothing better to do. This was actually how he figured out the first letter of the alphabet. Since there were only so many words that were one letter long, he was able to deduce where A would be. This did not do too much, but it was a start at least.
"Open those eyes, and stay still," Dr Hale ordered Troy, as she came out of the bathroom again, new bandages in hand.
And his start on the deciphering would only be what it got to, as the focus was right back on the present. Thinking back to previous orders, the young man hurriedly took off his shirt to allow easy access to his knife-wound, caused by the lovely lady helping treat it.
As he successfully removed the clothing covering his upper body, however, a problem began being noticed.
"What the hell is that?" Troy said, actively recoiling from the sight of his shoulder. Even with the old bandage helping to keep it contained, the man was able to see the wound actively foaming, small bubbles slowly getting pushed out of the sides. It was truly a revolting sight, not made any better by Dr Hale taking off the bandage. It was like the floodgates had been opened, clear liquid beginning to run down his arm, dripping on the bed by his elbow.
"The effects of being an absolute idiot," Dr Hale answered, keeping an iron grip on Troy's collarbone to prevent the man from moving further away. "Now stay still so I can get this over with without having to redo anything."
While he was still feeling like losing the last bits of food inside of him, Troy held it down as Dr Hale cleaned up the wound. She made sure to wipe off any excess liquid, before putting on the new bandage. It didn't hurt, as the injection, Dr Fidelis had given him previously had made him numb to most of the passive pains.
It took a few minutes of work, but the woman successfully managed to get it all off him, with a new bandage to prevent anything from showing through his clothes. Gesturing to put on his shirt again, the two were left in a tense situation.
"Can I press the button now?" Troy asked politely, being respectful to the person who had just helped delay him having to see the disgusting area that currently was his shoulder.
"It would certainly help us get things over with."
Well, he just took that as a yes, Troy pressing down on the button with a flick of his finger. Next to no resistance was felt, as the time started once again. Questions were to be asked, answers were to be said, and plans were to be had. If only they could get to do as much as they wanted to.