snowblindrpg | Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

[It's quite curious. Even when Hannibal's mind is in his palace, his body is still aware and alert, enough so that he should have been able to sense the other man's presence, by the sound of his footfall, by the smell of his skin. When the other man speaks to him, Hannibal opens his eyes, and frowns faintly, turning his head side to side, slowly, lifting his chin to keep it above the thick metal collar that chains him to the wall.]

Doctor House. May I ask where you are?

[His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and hoarse from the abuse his throat has taken.]

[House's own voice is rough from screaming and shouting... and choking himself on the collar, but it's nothing nearly so bad as the other man. He watches Hannibal with a steady gaze. With the man caught in the delusion, he's not particularly afraid, so it's easy enough to keep calm.]

An empty room. No cells, no chains. We're all standing around, sitting around, kneeling. Plenty of mold, though. That was real.

Got anything that's gonna elicit some emotion? I can tell you bad jokes if it'll make you wanna punch me. [Or worse.] It's the only thing that pulled me out.

[He's not going to name Wilson as the one who got him out of the nightmare.]

People from outside made it in. Guessing Andromeda or the Admin had a hand in that. Whatever the static things are were real, but nothing else has been.

Edited 2018-05-03 02:21 (UTC)

[Hannibal raises his eyebrows and looks around, peering at the walls, the chains, the bars. The idea that his perceptions are completely wrong is distressing, although he does not show it, mere curiosity in his expression.]

I was aware this was possible, of course. But perhaps not on this scale.

[He turns his head toward the voice, looking in that direction but clearly not able to see House.]

Emotion? Bad jokes are unlikely to achieve much emotion.

[Unless mild distaste was sufficient.]

You mentioned Miller. As did Will. Tell me about him.

Just your typical sadist IT worker. He's been able to work the system to lock the Admin out before. He's got an 'ends justify the means' philosophy in life. Or at least he seems to. Awhile back, the Wi-Fi signal that powers the nanos started failing. Something wrong with the equipment. Everyone started displaying symptoms of radiation sickness, but the progression was completely out of order and we all experienced the onset of new symptoms at exactly the same time. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. [There's a hint of interest beyond what most people would consider 'okay.' It's curiosity, mild wonder from a man who's seen a lot of medical mysteries in his career. The moment breaks, and he carries on. So far removed, he can appreciate how fascinating it had all been. At the time he'd been very ill and unhappy.]

He took about half the people here and marched 'em underground. They stayed healthy. You ever seen the "Saw" movies? He split people into groups and ran 'em through a bunch of different puzzles and trivia games.

It was a competition with groups playing for different parts of the map. Your group did well, you had power allocated to your nanomachines. Your team didn't do well, sucks to be you. The Admin managed to intervene to an extent and level out the power distribution so no one actually died, but whatever. Some of the puzzles, if teams lost, they ended up having to donate parts of their bodies to continue. Fingers. Crap like that. Or there were round where Team A had to pick which other team to inflict some kinda penalty or handicap. None of the teams were able to communicate with each other, though, so no coordination. We were locked into viewing and communicating only with our own team.

Miller seemed like he was loving it. Ultimate power trip, I guess.

[House's interest in the infirmities might have been beyond what most would consider "okay," but Hannibal is not like most. Indeed, his own interest is piqued at the tests this Miller had put these teams through. It's not exactly something Hannibal would have done, mind. No, it was far too clunky. Rude, in the classical definition of the word. Inelegant. Yet still fascinating. He doesn't bother to hide the glimmer of interest in his eyes. House knows who and what he is, and the interest may well be part of the emotional reaction that will free him.]

How was it resolved?

Everyone made it to the center and ran into a giant anomaly that looked like people they knew, screaming about how it wasn't fair that we were whole or whatever. And then it chased them. A guy who's been dead a while kited it away while everyone else booked it to the exit. Apparently they fixed the Wi-Fi enough. People got returned and we stopped dying.

Miller didn't have much to say about any of the experience. One thing that was always interesting, though. The guy's part of the data ghost collective we've talked to. Somehow, I thought that was all dead people.

Given the one we're reaching at @robertmiller doesn't remember anything from the data collective, though... I'm guessing we're looking at an evil twin situation. Or one asshole human and one slightly less asshole digital copy. I'm hoping for the asshole human, personally. I'm sure you are, too. [It's said levelly. House doesn't often contemplate murder. Not in the sense of seeing himself commit murder actively. That's just not in his nature. He'd far rather tear someone emotionally to shreds for his retribution--destroy their reputation, their life, make them suffer.

But in Robert Miller's case, after seeing the state people like Will are in, people like Ginger, the way he'd put kids like Frisk through hell... House is beginning to consider some possibilities.

What's on the menu, doc?]

[Hannibal's eyes glitter darkly at House's words. Not because of the idea of finding a human Robert Miller and making him pay for what he's done in that oh so refined yet simultaneously savage. Oh, he was already playing out scenarios in his head, flipping through his mental recipe cards. But what excited him was House. The tone of his voice. The unspoken significance of his words. The nascent darkness they hinted at.]

Certainly a virtual Miller would not be nearly as...satisfying.

Tell me, Dr. House. What do you believe should be done to our human Mr. Miller?

[That's a dangerous question. Mainly because House is seriously considering something he shouldn't be. He'll let that conflict play out some in expression as he glances away. He's trying to get Hannibal to snap out of his current delusion. A powerful emotion can do it. Something like triumph, perhaps? Pulling House into a darker orbit would certainly be a win for him.

House just isn't sure if he's only playing that game at the moment. It's an uncomfortable feeling to be uncertain of the full breadth of his own motivation. He shrugs one shoulder and looks back at Hannibal, locking eyes again.]

Wouldn't hurt to have him over for dinner. Maybe a nice chat to get us started.

[He's being careful in what he says just in case they run into the issue of more videos of this time being released.]

[Hannibal's satisfaction, pleasure, triumph, is growing, and the cell around him seems to pale, to appear somehow less real.

So close.

Hannibal can't see House, not yet, but he's still looking straight into his eyes. Seeing deep. Witnessing the darkness grow.]

Indeed. Shall I prepare a meal?

[The tone is mild, the words innocent. Unless you know what he means. As does House.]

[House swallows. He's condemning Robert Miller to this. Even if this is part of the game, it becomes real as soon as he says yes. House's hand hovers just over the window as he gazes into the darkness. With almost every fiber of his being, he hopes, for Robert Miller's sake, that he is not flesh and blood.

Those few remaining pieces of him, the ones that come away with dark tendrils trailing, that part of him hopes the man suffers.]

It wouldn't be dinner without one, doc. Put on your best show. I'm calling in my favor for him to make it good.

Edited 2018-05-07 04:01 (UTC)

[Hannibal smiles, a deep, sharp smile that creases his maroon eyes.

And that satisfaction of having precipitated and witnessed such corruption causes the cell to dissolve around him.

Hannibal glances down, noting that, while the surroundings and the chains were part of the illusion, the injuries were not. He looks up at House, able to see him now, and scans his body quickly, taking in what physical condition he can discern. Then he rises, slowly, feeling the ache of his abused body in every muscle but only paying attention enough to know what he would need to compensate for.]

Where is Will?

[House is in relatively good physical condition, all things considered. There's the bruising and small cuts from a collar that encircled his neck, as well. There's bruising all over his face, as well, evidence he's been hit there multiple times, particularly near his mouth. There are scratches from fingernails, too, much as Hannibal experienced. House has managed to wipe some of the blood off his skin, but he's generally covered in more of it than usual, and it's very clearly not his blood.

Hannibal might also note the detail that House's perpetual blanket cape is missing. In his wanderings, he might see that it's now on Ginger, wrapped around her waist like a skirt.

He tries not to appear too much like he's just accepted a deal with the devil for his soul as he points toward Will across the room.]

Figure he's gonna need a shrink when he wakes up.

Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Six

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