ArchivedLogs:Camp Oz

Camp Oz
Dramatis Personae Doug, Rasa
In Absentia	Tuesday, January 14, 2020 Part of the Future Past TP
Location Osborn Institute Internment Camp
Welcome to the Land of Oz. The school that originally showed so much promise as a place for young mutants to hone their skills and become more 'well adjusted' has been converted into an internment center -- albeit a nice one. Classrooms have been gutted and closed off into smaller domiciles, allowing for small groups of four to inhabit bunk beds on either wall. Some house families. Most host roommate sort of in close quarters with tiny dressers for personal effects. The walls are kept clear of decorations and the windows are all barred, with sensors on the doors and individual bars to keep watch for tampering or portals left ajar. Communal bathrooms are available with toilet stalls and translucent shower curtains, though privacy is never something residents expect. The halls are patrolled by generally innocuous Sentinels, small ones, that barely acknowledge the people around them -- until a sensor is triggered or unacceptable behavior is witnessed. The campus is closed off and guarded, the walls contiguous and monitored, with a small headquarters that is quite a bit more extravagant than the rest of the facility. Some say Norman Osborn lives there, but none have actually seen him in a very long time. There is also a science compound that residents are called to for testing. Often it is mundane, with limited shows of powers, scans of biological readings, and basic medical tests, but sometimes -- sometimes people go in and never return. The Land of Oz is a strange place. All the horror stories whispered throughout the cities by mutants trying to avoid the place seem unfounded. It's a rather peaceful existence, if one doesn't mind being deprived of freedoms. The inhabitants are calm and quiet, almost eerily so. Those who act up are confronted by Sentinels immediately, and repeat offenders tend to find themselves in a medicated, powered down state. The rest are left to live as they will, powers intact (especially if they are interesting powers), as if on the honor system. Most people go about their days with very little to do. Books are provided for reading upon request, with large gatherings of people discouraged. People are given assignments to help keep the facility clean and in good working order, using skills they had on the outside to provide food or repairs when necessary. Rasa is making hir rounds, a slim, androgynous figure slipping between people on their way to the cafeteria or off to their assigned chores, a somewhat removed air about hir. Hir skin is a pale shade of Mediterranean hue, but one who hasn't seen the sun in quite some time. Hazel eyes shift to and fro as ze sizes up some of the inhabitants, hir face expressionless. Dark wavy hair is captured in a ponytail at the back of hir neck, drawing wispy tendrils away from hir face and shoulders and showing off a dark cream suit, the material a thick, soft wool that keeps off the slight chill of winter that seeps in, despite the adequate heating system. Ze is, for the most part, quiet. Ze pauses in the doorway of one dorm room, gaze taking in the beds and the occupants, should they be there as well. Inside this particular room, there is only one occupant, albeit a relatively familiar (possibly) figure. Doug sits on one of the lower beds, his thoughtful expression fixed on the barred window. The polyglot is dressed in an outfit pretty much the same design as the other people sheltered here; a soft, warm suit of olive green that is a bit large on Doug, requiring the smallest rolling of the sleeves. He doesn't seem to notice Rasa, at first. He simply stares in silence as he's done for the last couple of weeks since being apprehended. About the time anyone would give up on /being/ noticed, he turns his head and blinks once, the recognition slow to come to his expression. When it does, there's a flicker of...something...in his eyes, and he actually sits up, straightening his spine. "Rasa." Rasa raises an eyebrow and draws in a long deep breath. Ze nods once and looks toward the window in the room. "Hello. How have you been adjusting? Do you require anything?" Ze steps into the room and heads toward that window, hir eyes squinting at the natural light. "I hope the food is to your liking. It's hard - budget for ingredients is low and the kitchen staff is on rotation so that everyone who wants a shot gets a chance to cook. I do know that Tuesdays are usually our best crew, so if you want to make requests, Monday night is the time to do it." Doug looks confused when Rasa starts speaking, his brow furrowing as he listens. "I guess I'm adjusting okay," he says finally, blinking slowly. "I mean, as concentration camps go, this one seems pretty top-drawer." He wrinkles his nose as a Sentinel cruises by in the corridor, scanning the room briefly. Doug seems to hold its breath until it goes by, and then he exhales. "How long have you been here?" he asks, when the coast is clear, standing up and following the shape-changer to the window. "Are you...in /charge/ or something?" "I was living at the Institute before, taking classes then." Rasa frowns in recollection, turning hir attention down the floor before ze turns back to Doug again. "It's been four years, off and on, I guess. As for running the place," ze glances back into the hallway, as if the Sentinel might come back, "they are in charge. I don't think anyone can deny that. I have... merely been here for a very long time." Doug absorbs Rasa's answer silently, watching carefully as ze speaks. "Well, I guess I didn't mean 'in charge'. More like a trustee or something." He rolls his shoulders, and squints at the window. "They're in charge everywhere these days, more or less," He says of the Sentinels. There's a big exhale, and he moves away from the window again to sit on his bunk, rubbing at his face. "Since you've been here all along, can I ask you something? Is it bad here?" he asks, dropping his hands. "I mean, I've been here a few days, and it seems all right, but..." he waggles fingers at his temple. "The imagination tends to get a little exotic." "I am considered cooperative. Some have taken advantage of my situation to ensure further comfort for themselves. Others do not regard me as warmly. I am very much... stuck here, though. Do not mistake that." Rasa straightens hir jacket and then slides hir hands in hir pockets. Ze pauses when he offers up a question, hir brows rising in anticipation. "Exotic? I'm afraid that word doesn't really mean much to me. People tend to use it how they will." Ze wets hir lips and lets hir gaze lower to the ground. "It's... both better and worse than the outside. Food is constant. Warmth is readily available. From what I understand, there is no need to scrounge or scurry away from patrols. People can just continue living. There is an agenda. Some fall on the wrong side of it. I can't do anything about that. I can't help them. I can't promise anyone that they won't either. If you behave, yes, there's a better chance nothing bad will happen to you. If you cooperate, for the most part, you will be fine. If you pique particular interest amongst the scientific community... I cannot help." Doug's lips twitch at the word 'cooperative', but he doesn't speak through the rest of Rasa's explanation. He listens carefully, scratching at his jaw and nodding slowly when ze finishes speaking. "I guess everyone does what they have to in order to survive," he says finally, wrinkling his nose. "It's certainly /my/ top priority." He turns, looking at the hallway for a moment, then turning back. "One of them, anyway." "Yes, yes, survival is important." Rasa sounds distracted and absent. Ze frowns a little more and turns toward the door. "I hope you find something more pleasant than just survival. Is there anything else you require or desire while you are here?" Ze only gives a brief pause for him to speak. "If it comes up later, you can reach out to me and I'll see what I can do. I would encourage you not to volunteer for too much, but definitely find a job." Ze rests a hand on the door frame and prepares to leave. "Good luck." "I could use a laptop, but I'm guessing that's not happening," Doug says, attempting to force some humor into his tone and not quite achieving it. He offers a small, encouraging (if sad) smile. "But if I think of anything, I'll let you know." The advice gets a firm nod, and he glances at the hallway beyond Rasa, where a Sentinel buzzes by, then look back at the shape-shifter. "I'll try to find something to keep me busy," he promises, and lifts a hand. "I'll see you around." "Yes. See you around." Rasa nods once more and slips into the hall.