InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "This is how we roll"

Dr. Spencer Reid (awkwardgenius) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-10-24 13:45:00

Entry tags:

active, day 28, experiment, location: bunker, spencer reid

Day 28 - The Bunker
Who: Spencer Reid, and anyone else who is trapped in the bunker.
What: The captives wake up.
Where: Possibly the carnival; undisclosed location.
When: Day twenty eight, time unknown.
Rating: PG-13, may change.
Status: Incomplete; group post; no real posting order. Feel free to start mini-threads between characters if that's easier than everyone chatting together!

His head ached.

It almost felt like he had overslept; his body was tense, his mind was throbbing, and his throat felt like there was something stuck in it. He rolled to the side, the ground hard and cold beneath his face and hands. A low groan pitched from the back of his mouth, echoing loudly around the room. The sound confused him as his brain began to awaken and sharpen, and he lifted his head wearily, looking around.

As his sleep-clouded eyes started to focus, he became aware of his surroundings, his mind taking it all in within a few seconds. He was in some kind of bunker, walls built from what appeared to be steel or some other kind of very strong metal compound, judging from the grain and shine. There was a single door to his left, multiple bolts and locks strapped across the opening, yet there was no handle or knob on the inside. There were shelves against the far wall with food and bottled water stacked neatly atop. Hung on the perpendicular wall to this was a dry wipe board with an eraser and pens on the lip beneath. The board was huge and looked clean, brand new. Next to this was a shelf with what looked like notepads and pens, and a large thick book Reid immediately recognized as a DSM-IV (mostly because it was identical to the one he had tucked away in his desk drawer back at Quantico).

Reid's thin body felt heavy, but he forced his stiff joints to cooperate with him, easing himself up into a crouched position, and then to his feet. His body was untrustworthy and weak as he stood, looking around himself in both surprise and horror. There were other bodies, all alive but unconscious, sprawled around him on the floor, all men with the exception of two women. His eyes ran across the floor to the wall, and his mouth dropped open. A series of monitors, TV screens, were cut into the wall, all blank and switched off.

He reached up shakily and ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head, before moving forward toward the door and running his hands over the bolts, hinges and rim. The seal of the door was tight, and it couldn't be pushed or pried by his thin fingers. He was trapped, and so were all of these people with him.

He paused for a moment and leaned his head against the door, his heart pounding in his chest at a mile a minute. He swallowed shakily and tried to control his thoughts, tried to keep his mind from panicking, because he was about ready to break down. Experiments. The word repeated itself over and over in his head, both on the paper of his journal and in Connor, Kimberly and the Cajun man's voice.

No, no. He had to focus. He had to stay calm. If there was some kind of human experiment about to occur around him, there was no doubt that there were overseers, and that, as sadists, they would thrive on reactions of fear, panic, shock, confusion and desperation. He turned back to the TV screens cut into the back wall, teeth grazing his lip with uncertainty and fear. He had a feeling that, if someone had taken the time to insert screens into the wall, they weren't going to remain blank forever.

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ballerinadreams
2009-11-03 02:33 am UTC (link)

Shannon took a breath to further dig into the poor guy when she decided she was wasting time being angry with the wrong person and punishing a practical stranger for something that he hadn't even done. Instead of going on, Shannon raised her hands up defensively, shut her eyes, and turned her back on him, moving away and toward the screens, pacing back and forth as her eyes moved from Ianto's screen to Rose's. She noticed another familiar face and her stomach dropped heavily, making her feel ill. Dean. Well...what was left of Dean...

Somewhere in the distance of her conscious mind, which was focused on the screens before her, Shannon heard another man speaking up sounding almost as nervous as Spencer had been. Jesus, she was at the end of her frayed nerves and she'd been here forever, but she didn't stutter like the two of them; what the hell was their deal, anyway? The last bit of what he said caught her attention and she stopped moving, looking over her shoulder at him. But then, he tried to back pedal and Shannon spoke up. "No, you know what? You're right. That's how they work. If we don't do what they want, other people get punished for it; I've seen it before and heard about it even more often. You're right, I'm with you, buddy." At that, her eyes moved to Sarah Jane's face and her brows lifted as if to ask, what about you? before her eyes stopped on Spencer, slightly narrowed and challenging. Did he still think they should sit back and do nothing? Did he think it was still a better idea to just pretend it didn't bother them when there was a distinct - and probable - possibility that the people on the screens were only going to get it ten times worse if they didn't play in and react to what they were seeing? The look on her face said, please, indulge me. I really want to know.

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awkwardgenius
2009-11-03 06:42 am UTC (link)

Apparently Reid didn't give off the same waves of confidence or trustworthy aura as Gideon, and he definitely didn't command the same respect as Hotch, because Shannon was only too happy to bite his head off given his suggestion at how best to tackle this situation they'd found themselves in. Any confidence in himself he may have had cracked into pieces beneath Shannon's explosion of rage, and he very quickly yanked his hand away from Sarah Jane's shoulder, backing up a step or two away from them as his face fell.

She continued to yell at him and he literally winced, turning his head down even further and squeezing both of his eyes shut. Of course. He was stupid. The embarrassment came in waves now that his mind had finally caught up with his actions, actions spawned by a lack of social knowledge and experience, and he could've kicked himself. Not only because of how insensitive he may have sounded, but because he hadn't had the confidence to pull it off.

When Shannon turned on him, though, and attacked his intelligence, Reid looked up sharply, only meeting her eyes for a few seconds before dropping them again and shaking his head. The idea of working with them stung, but he couldn't form words strong enough to defend himself. Instead, feeling very shocked and embarrassed and foolish, he lifted his head just long enough to nod at them, before turning and crossing the bunker, perching on the edge of one of the lower bunks and resting the DSM-IV on his knees.

It was finally dawning on him. He was trapped here. This wasn't another case, he couldn't just waltz in, flash his FBI badge and a brain full of profiling knowledge, and make everyone instantly feel better about the situation knowing that someone was there to help. He lifted a hand and rubbed at his eye before raking his fingers up into his hair, rubbing his temples one at a time. He'd never missed Gideon so much in his life. Or Hotch. Or Morgan. God, what he wouldn't do to have Morgan nudge his shoulder and say something cute but somewhat offensive right then...

His fingers were playing almost obsessively with the corners of the DSM-IV, flipping and picking at the pages. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before placing the book on the bed beside him. He didn't need it, he knew it word for word anyway. The whiteboard marker was still in his hand, and he stared at it for a long while as his mind churned out morbid thought after morbid thought. So... this was what it felt like. To be a victim. To be helpless. To be on the other side of a case.

Exhaling shakily, he leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, trying to think. Shannon and Willard were right. Ignoring them would just provoke them, but so would playing along with them. There was literally nothing they could do.

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wyld_stallyn
2009-11-03 07:09 am UTC (link)

Ted was watching all of what had happened with a slack jaw and wide eyes. "Dudes." He spoke up once, but nobody was listening. And totally understandably so. He looked over to the monitors, fickle attention moving from one to another to another. From machines and dudes to wolves and chicks to people drowning to a chick getting cut up slowly. It was all pretty messed up.

"Dudes! Whatever they totally want us to do, we cannot get anywhere fighting." Ted held out his hands in a 'calm down' sort of manner. "These douchebags are the enemy. We need to be excellent to each other.." The teenager paused, surprised even in himself about the outburst. "We're totally all we got."

He was standing near the smart dude still, but looked to the babe and the other dude with a lift of his eyebrows, puppy dog gaze hopeful in every way. "We need like..to make a most excellent plan or something. And people can't look at the tv's like all the time. Turns would be most outstanding in this heinous time."

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bleedinghart
2009-11-03 08:43 am UTC (link)

It was killing Stephen, to watch the monitor and know there was nothing he could do to help Connor, but he wouldn't look away out of frustration or helplessness. If by observing whatever was happening outside of his control was all he could do? Well, then Stephen would do it because it was the only way he could be there for his friend. He was no coward when it came to death.

But the commotion the others were starting... that was enough to pull his attention away. Helen would be amused. The thought came unbidden and Stephen frowned at himself, shaking his head slightly. No, wrong person to think of. His gaze shifted to the one who looked youngest, who had a very peculiar way of speaking, a brow arching at the way the young man tried to act as a peacekeeper.

"He has a point." Stephen finally chimed in, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard, though he made no move to leave his position near the monitors. "Bickering about the best ways to cope aren't going to get us anywhere, though I'm sure it's providing quite the entertainment for whoever's watching us." A pause as he glanced up at the air vent, where he was betting a camera was tucked away. "It's not going to make anyone feel better either. Not in the long-term." He spared another glance at the monitor Connor was on, swallowing as he fought back the panic and worry that was just as present in him as it seemed in the others. If Cutter had taught him one thing over the years, it was the value of keeping one's head in the worst of situations. As he started talking again his gaze swept over the group. "They want us to feel helpless, to be helpless. Fine. But we shouldn't take that out on each other when right now? The lot of us is all we have. So everyone just take a breath. Beat on one of the cots or the wall if it makes you feel better, just not on each other."

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ex_kingship986
2009-11-03 06:13 pm UTC (link)

"I think those two have the right idea." Came the unfamiliar voice of the dark-haired man sitting in the corner, propped up there. King had been awake for a few minutes now, having been one of the last to rouse from his little doctor-induced sleep session. But he had chosen to stay quiet and only watch for a little bit.

He'd seen enough.

One long leg was drawing up, and he planted a fingerless gloved hand on the wall, helping to push himself up to stand. Then that hand was rubbing over the back of his neck, up into short hair, then down along his jaw, scratching some into his beard as he took stock of the people in the room with him. Still no Abby. No Blade. He guessed that was a good thing.

"Does anyone here actually want to see their friends murdered? Or tortured? I don't know any of those people," Not well, anyway, just a few faces that might look familiar, "But if they were my friends, I don't think I'd want to watch them be hurt, I don't think I could handle that." He was setting his hands on his hips then, bending a little to crack his back before they were dropped back down to his sides. "But not everyone's like me, and maybe there should be someone watching just to keep everyone informed about what's going on?" It was just like King, to come in and take over a situation, to swing from that vine and scoop up Jane.

Big damn hero.

"So why don't we have one or two of us, whoever feels comfortable doing it, keep an eye on those screens. Who knows? Maybe they'll just stop." It didn't seem likely to him, but some of those people, especially that hysterical blonde, looked like they needed a little bit of hope. "And I think the rest of us should be focused on finding a way out of here. And whether we can, or can't get out, isn't of any consequence right now. I can't just stand around here and not try. So why don't we find ourselves some things that could be useful? There's a door," An obvious door, which he was nodding to, "And that means it opens."

He trailed off then, dark eyes moving from one person to another, around the small room, before he was speaking again. "Alright, so does anyone have any specialties? Clearly, we've got werewolves," He was making a vague gesture towards the monitors. "Which means that we could have any manner of people in this room with us. Can any of you do anything out of the ordinary? Have any special talents?" A pause. "Vampires?" Oh, please, let there be a vampire in this room.

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got2haveasmith
2009-11-04 11:12 pm UTC (link)

The man was right; Sarah Jane knew he was right. The reactions she was having were playing into whatever sick plan the Management had concocted. But watching Ianto, and watching the Doctor oh-so-cheerfully lean over him.... Sarah shut her eyes for a moment, but it did little good. She could still see the terror on Ianto's face, the gleeful smile the Doctor gave him. She allowed herself to be turned away as the tears started slipping down her cheeks.

Then Shannon started screaming, and Sarah looked up and toward her. She couldn't think of anything to say; she'd caught sight of the monitors out of the corner of her eye, and the images pushed most rational thoughts out of her mind. She felt tired, tired of the violence, of the fear, of the worrying and danger here. She was tired of feeling useless.

The rest of the men, who had up until now been silent, started talking about not fighting and working together to find a way out. They were starting to sound like the Doctor. But the Doctor was out there, leaning over Ianto. She knew it wasn't him. It couldn't be him. Even as she watched him, watched all the movements, the quirks, and knew that it was, she couldn't quite believe it. Mind control. Had to be mind control, didn't it? But the Doctor had the strongest mind of anyone.

She turned back to Shannon, finally registering that the other woman had asked her a question before the shouting began. "It's a cyber-conversion unit," she said, her voice dull and flat. "It's used to turn people into Cybermen - emotionless tin cans with human brains." She'd seen the schematics, thanks to Mr. Smith. And she had plenty of experience with the Cybermen firsthand, but she'd never seen an actual conversion unit. It made her stomach turn to look at it. "Ianto...there was an invasion, a battle in London, and Ianto was one of the few to survive the attack before."

She looked up as the one man she'd thought was still sleeping began to speak, acting like he was going to take charge. She offered him a thin-lipped smile. He was welcome to it. Sarah wasn't sure she could handle such things right now. She sank down onto one of the cots, eyes wide and staring, shifting her gaze between her two sets of friends. For while it was horrific to watch, she couldn't look away for long. She owed it to them all to keep vigil.

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awkwardgenius
2009-11-08 06:42 am UTC (link)

"I'll do it."

Reid's voice was quiet, awkward, but somewhat firm at the same time. He didn't look up as he spoke, and he didn't move from his position sat on the edge of the bunk. He just nodded a touch, staring ahead and fiddling with the pen between his fingers. He felt like he owed it to them, after what had just happened, and if they were all emotionally attached to the people on the screens... well, at least he'd had enough experience in looking at horrifying photographs, watching violent footage, to keep himself somewhat detatched from it all.

He eventually glanced up at them, deliberately not looking at Shannon, mostly out of embarrassment. Sarah Jane sank down nearer to him, on one of the cots, and Reid offered her an awkward forced smile before standing, mostly so that he wouldn't have to sit close to her. He was shivering a little, most likely with adrenaline, as he walked back over, stopping just in front of the crowd but staring at the floor behind them so he didn't have to meet their eyes.

"I... I mean, if everyone else is, maybe, if they want to do that... then, then I don't mind... I mean, I don't know many people here, and... and I..." He paused, and took a breath. "I don't mind doing it."

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tear_it_up
2009-11-09 11:18 pm UTC (link)

Willard stared at the man, feeling bad that he was offering to do something so awful all alone. Though Willard had unintentionally sparked a heated disagreement regarded what should be done about the situation, he did like Reid, and he didn't want the other to see him as an enemy. He swallowed. "I've... I've seen a person killed before," he said, in a quavery, nervous voice and a strange, twitchy half-smile. "I saw someone torn apart by... by animals." And I liked it. "I could watch, too. I don't mind. I want to... to help." Willard looked at the screen. The Rorschach inkblot caught his eye, along with the sobbing female doctor and the tormented, tied man. There were corpses, as well, that the tied man seemed convinced were talking. Willard didn't know anyone on the screens, but this particular scene, with its gothic imagery and the obvious presence of death, was as familiar as anything up there was going to be to the misfit.

"He's talking to dead people. Isn't that... isn't that hallucinating? Hearing things talking that can't? And maybe that woman has some sort of neurotic phobia... and maybe the person wearing the mask has... a personality disorder?" Willard didn't know too much about psychology, but he hoped that the suggestions would be relatively helpful, if they were really doing this thing.

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ballerinadreams
2009-11-10 12:20 am UTC (link)

Part of Shannon was angry that Spencer didn't respond to her. A tiny part of her felt guilty, while the rest of her felt vindicated, when he sat down and looked as though he felt embarrassed for what he'd suggested. But, her silent victory was only short-lived, because then - starting with the teenager that sounded like Jay, no less - the men in the room, one by one, began speaking up and with each new insight, Shannon felt angrier and angrier; mainly, Shannon felt chastised and Shannon was one person who was not used to people failing to bend to her whims, even in this place.

She felt a specific surge of anger toward both the dark-haired one who had been looking at the monitors - long enough, Shannon thought, that it would seem he knew at least one person on there, which made her angrier still that he wasn't taking her side - and the one asking whether anyone had any special talents. They were all speaking in general terms, but she knew just as much as they all did that all of the sentiments were aimed at her and Shannon didn't like that. The dark-haired one who had been watching the monitor had pointed out that the bickering was going to give the Management a bit of entertainment. That's what they want and the point is to keep them happy, idiot; what part of my side of the argument did you not get? she thought, livid, as she glared back at him before moving her eyes to the larger man who seemed to want to take charge. The teenager went ignored for the time being. "You must be new," she replied, eyes still narrowed as she looked over at him. "Just because there's a door doesn't mean it opens. Welcome to Vas Captio, mon ami," she all but spat at him.

When he went on asking whether there was anyone with special talents or whether there were vampires, it was all Shannon could do not to scream in frustration. There was no such thing as vampires, what the fuck were all these people talking about lately?! Still, she forced her focus back on Sarah Jane who had yet to speak up to agree or disagree with Shannon's point of view. It was more disappointing than she was willing to admit out loud that instead of taking a side of the arguement, Sarah Jane had simply addressed the question Shannon had asked her about Ianto. The answer in and of itself distracted Shannon from her anger at the men in the room. "They're turning him into a what?" she gasped. Her eyes moved back to the screen and a chill ran down her spine as she watched the gleeful and uncharacteristically happy looks on both Jack and the Doctor's faces as Ianto's expression darkly contrasted theirs - the fear on his face; the panic was visible even on the slightly pixellated screen. "Like...a robot?" she asked, looking away from the screen again with question in her eyes as she looked back at Sarah Jane.

As Spencer offered to watch the screens - and Shannon bit the insides of her cheeks not to dig at him again for his willingness to do so - Shannon noticed that Sarah Jane had taken a seat on one of the cots and was quietly watching. Rather than respond to the point that one of the men had brought up about no one wanting to watch their friends murdered, Shannon sank down onto the cot beside Sarah Jane and balled her hands into fists, fidgeting them in her lap as she watched the screens, looking for Sam and trying very hard not to cry sympathetically - and grievously - whenever she caught sight of the look on Ianto's face.

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ballerinadreams
2009-11-10 12:20 am UTC (link)

The man with whom Shannon had previously agreed went on to try to diagnose the people on one of the screens and she moved her eyes away from Ianto's and back to L's. She couldn't help wondering if the female body on the slab in front of Lexie was Laura. Part of her thought that the only person over whom L would have been so upset was Laura. The idea in and of itself was that much more heartbreaking for her, because as much as she and L hadn't really gotten along an awful lot - and she couldn't be entirely sure that it was L, since they'd never met, but she was under the impression that he was the only Asian man left since Domeki had died, the other Asian man had been found hanging (rumor had it) weeks ago, and Watanuki had gone missing - but she had connected with L on that level alone. He had felt for Laura the way that Shannon felt for Sam. If she ever lost Sam the way L had lost Laura, she wasn't sure she'd be able to push on and L had at least appeared to try. She could only imagine just how traumatizing seeing her body like that would be.

"He's talking to his girlfriend," she said in a dull voice without looking over at the man who had pointed out that L was talking to a corpse. "He loved her. Dead or not, he loved her before...that doesn't just stop when someone ceases to live," she added bitterly. "As for the living woman, maybe she's freaked because she's being forced to perform an autopsy on her boyfriend, but then again, what the hell do I know? Everyone thinks I'm wrong, so clearly I'm talking out of my ass, never mind me," she added and the bitterness in her voice was, by far, more aimed at the teenager, Spencer, and the two men who had made her feel as though she'd been chastised than it was at the nervous man to whom she was replying.

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wyld_stallyn
2009-11-10 12:29 am UTC (link)

Ted was used to being ignored. Mostly, he didn't care. Or didn't even notice it. He generally did his own thing with Bill and things worked out.

However, he wasn't so oblivious that he didn't notice the tone of the blonde babe's voice. "They're totally going to go through with this stuff anyway, right? Dudes have done this before." That was what it had sounded like to him, anyway. But he shrugged, a large motion that took all of his lanky body with him.

"Most tragic that we're giving them a total double feature." That was all. He stepped up to one of the monitors, wincing at what he saw, and looked down sadly. Ted wore his emotions not just on his sleeve, but his entire proverbial outfit.

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