towerofanimus | Delete File?

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Delete File?

Characters: Jin Shirato and OPEN
Setting: Floor 43, any day after the Ruana network post
Format: starting in prose, but I can switch to action if you're prefer!
Summary: After speaking with Ruana, Jin has to cool down and creates a daily ritual for himself.
Warnings: Science trauma and Jin being Jin.

Jin was perfectly well aware that nothing he could do to the building was permanent; significant damage would also just bestow punishment for his efforts. But there's of course a point when you stop caring about whatever the Tower can dish out, and after it transform you into a rabid and horrifying facsimile of a jungle cat, you've passed that point. Besides, Sayaka was right; he'd needed to get away from the computer long before he had actually gotten away from it.

His head was still spinning, and he felt a bit sick (the same sort of ill that had come at the end of the summer he'd wager), but here he stood on the 43rd floor, standing outside one specific jail cell; one with a number plate that read "037." For a long time it just seemed like he was staring vacantly at it, even though his mind was racing.

And then eventually Jin snapped out of his own reverie, took out a screwdriver from his pocket, jammed it under the plate and pried the numbered plate off the wall after quite a bit of effort. The physically strongest he wasn't, but he kept pushing until it finally popped off.

Of course, it would come back the next day, and again Jin'd be on the 43rd floor, rather prying the plate off or carving into it to scrape off the number and make it illegible. It almost became a ritual every day, stopping down there on the way down to find something to do, and it'd be easy to find him idling about in front of the jail cell with a screwdriver in hand.

He had no idea what his own opinion was on her anymore, but he still felt like doing this much.

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Richtofen barked out a laugh, and for once, it wasn't spiteful or mocking. Jin's answer was far better than he'd anticipated. As much as Richtofen hated him, he seemed to know what he was talking about, at least when it came to death. And since death was one subject with which he was intimately acquainted, he appreciated the realistic outlook on it.

"What a gloriously pessimistic opinion!" he said. And then he went ahead and ruined whatever sort of semi-friendly impression he might have just given off with the next words out of his mouth. "You must have had a terrible life to make you think that way, hm? I wonder what happened to you."

Richtofen tilted his chin back so that he could look at Jin down the bridge of his nose, scrutinizing him like he was a lab rat. "You have those kind of eyes..."

He didn't bother to elaborate.

Honestly, it's not like Jin expected friendliness from the likes of Richtofen. He could appreciate an intelligent conversation partner all the same, but come on. Crazy Nazi zombie guy.

But at the look on Richtofen's face, a rock seemed to sink in his stomach, and he quickly took a step or two back from the man, a grimace immediately returning to his face. There wasn't much need to elaborate; he'd seen that face before. He'd seen it many times before by this stage in his life. From the researchers for years and years, from Jason-- oh he was plenty familiar with it.

"My life was shit. Ain't no secret."

Jin's reaction warmed Richtofen's heart, it really did. Conversely, he had seen that look many times over - that apprehension, that knee-jerk instinct to back away from a threat. It had been far too long since he'd caused someone to look that way, and it brought a smirk to his face. He missed his reputation as "The Butcher," missed the way people back home would tremble in fear at just the sound of his name.

Jin wasn't one of those people, he knew that well enough. But it was clear enough that he was someone's victim, someone's lab rat, and it stirred a giddy feeling deep in the pit of Richtofen's stomach to think about what lucky researcher got to deal with him.

"Ah, but it's a secret to me!" Richtofen said, cocking his head and giving a smile that just barely danced on the line between sweet and sinister. "Or, the details are, at least. Come, come! While we are having a heart-to-heart, would you like to share a story with the doctor?"

Twisted smiles all they were, but Jin was very pointedly keeping his line of sight away from anywhere near Richtofen right now.

"Heart-to-heart my ass." It sounded like it should've been a mumble, but he didn't keep it very quiet. But despite that, he was willing to divulge the story anyway.

"My friends and I were a bunch of dirt-covered orphans that got picked up off the street one day by a corporation called the Kirijo Group. They used us for the lab rats in their experiments, and most of the other kids kicked the bucket."

"As test subjects are wont to do," Richtofen said, nodding his head in a way that clearly indicated he was more than familiar with that kind of situation. "But it couldn't have been all that bad for you! I mean, look at you now. No longer dirt-covered, alive... Still an orphan, I'm sure, but details. I should say things worked out well, ja?"

From the way he spoke, it was unclear as to whether he was joking, or if he just honestly didn't understand why Jin would have any problems with being used as a test subject. Coming from a guy who likes to laugh at people's pain and who didn't understand that a trust barrier wasn't a physical thing, both options are equally likely.

For a moment, he just stares critically; probably trying to figure out whether Richtofen was indeed joking or not. But once he rather reaches his conclusion, or gives up, he scoffs and rolls his eyes, completely dismissing his previous anxiety.

"Like you would get it anyway. Sorry if I'm not as optimistic as Mr. Cut and Snip here. I don't give a crap about my parents, but I was probably scheduled to die months ago."

Richtofen fixed Jin with a blank stare.

"I still don't get it," he said. "Why is that a bad thing?" He sidestepped and spread his arms in a grand gesture, smiling a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "You're alive, you're free... Well, sort of. But at least not everyone here wants to use you as a test subject. Why not be happy?"

At that last bit, Richtofen became strikingly aware of how much he sounded like he was just regurgitating what was on the welcome notes. He made a face like he'd tasted something bad and dropped his arms to his sides.

"...Okay. Let the doctor try to see this from your point of view," he said. He gave a halfhearted, awkward chuckle. "They always did say I lacked that 'empathy' thing. Why don't you explain it to me? Make me get it."

Not everyone here wants to use him as a test subject? That just got a very pointed look from Jin. Mostly because he's almost positive that you yourself don't fall into that category, and the irony of the situation with the admins wasn't lost.

Richtofen's insistence made him groan, but for whatever reason that possessed him, he decided to humour the good doctor anyway.

"Then here's the easy version: even if you manage to be alive and skirt by through life on the edge of your seat, it doesn't really matter in the end when your own mind is trying to tear you apart limb from limb every single day of your godforsaken life. And that's not a metaphor."

Richtofen's expression shifted abruptly. For a window of less than a second, he looked like he'd been slapped in the face - surprised, angry, indignant. But then, smoothly, it glided back into a mask of warmth, though the look in his eyes was so cold that it offset the caring expression he was clearly going for. The leather of his gloves squeaked as he balled his hands into fists.

"It doesn't, hmm?" he cooed, taking a few cautious steps closer to Jin. He kept a fair distance, though, as if waiting for Jin to lash out at him. "Und how does it feel, your mind tearing itself apart? Does it hurt? Tell me everything."

He paused for a few seconds, looking Jin up and down, taking in each and every detail of his appearance. Then he met his eyes again, and his lips curled into something like a smile. "I want to know just how much you suffer."

And he gave a bitter laugh.

Jin wasn't exactly programmed to recognize the warmth in people, so pretend as Richtofen might've, all he saw was the cold pierce in the psycho's eyes. And Jin just kept watching with a pointed look of uninterest.

Until...something kind of unhooked in his mind. He'd done an almost phenomenal job keeping Moros under check for a while, but... Everything mounting lately just kind of made the Persona very upset. Especially since he was apparently being directly inquired about!

On the outside, it only looked like Jin winced slightly, as if he'd suddenly gotten a migraine. But on the inside, Moros was practically trying to scream.

Of course, he tried to cover it up by a small adjustment of his glasses and continue unreactive like normal. Sure he'd talk a little, but he wasn't going to let Richtofen get all the satisfaction if he could help it. "Like a voice screaming at you every minute of every day calling for you to die or talking about how it's going to kill you and forecasting every portent of doom it can muster... But that's when it's under control."

Richtofen's grin got wider, and his laugh shook his shoulders a bit. He looked almost jubilant, but it goes without saying that it wasn't sincere.

"Ah! How familiar," he said. He bent at the waist and tapped a finger up against his own temple, once, twice, three times. "Perhaps we are suffering from the same condition. Ja?"

The absolute indignation of the scoff that just came out of his mouth was something to go on the record books for years to come.

"Don't lump in the same category as you, you freak! I wasn't born with my mutation."

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