"He's not in any shape for me to go in right now." A stern female voice said.
"I know that," The other Warden replied, obviously irritated. "But he will be later, right?"
The Warden could hear only fragments of the conversation going on above him. That awful grogginess still consumed him. His entire body felt numb. He was just conscious enough to attempt to move his arms and legs. It was useless though, they didn't feel like they belonged to him. Nothing right now felt like they belonged to him.
"When can he be moved?" The other Warden asked.
"In the morning I think. His bleeding's stopped but he might go into shock if we move him this second."
"It's not like he lost a leg! It's just a little bullet wound!"
"Two, actually." The female retorted. "And if this guy really is the real thing, then you of all people should know how much of a wimp he is." The tone of her voice suggested that she was grinning slyly as she spoke.
There was a moment of silence before the female spoke again.
"Alright fine! Move him if you want to, but I can't do anything with him until he recovers!"
"Why are you so useless!"
The voices started to fade and the Warden was out cold once more.
The passage of time might has well have been instantaneous to him. He didn't know how long he'd been out this time. He sprang out of bed in a worried rush. He took a moment to clutch his head, waiting for the sudden flow of blood to subside. Groaning, he looked around his new environment.
Well, at least it looked a little like his bedroom. Still on the dull and boring side. The bold colors he was used to, and preferred were just a few shades darker, annoyingly so, than how he remembered them. A salmon-colored carpet, mustard-colored curtains and that awful plum color everywhere else.
He tossed the covers off himself and found that he'd been stripped of his suit, now in a pair of pajamas similar in design to that of the other Warden's uniform. The medals and patches had been printed on the silk fabric.
Swinging his legs around the side of the bed, he'd forgotten about his most recent injuries. Putting weight on his arm and leg quickly reminded him. It wasn't a terrible pain, he could still walk. He was just very cautious as he did.
Suddenly the door slid open. A young woman, dressed in a royal-blue vest, deep red undershirt, and sleek pants to match slowly walked into his room. Her light-brown hair was tied into messy bun. A pair of copper-colored half-moon spectacles rested on the end of her nose. She looked around the room for a moment before putting on a smile.
Behind the cheerful mood she carried as she looked for a place to set the platter with a tall pitcher of water and a few glasses, it was easily noticeable that she looked exhausted.
"Let me guess..." She started, rubbing her chin for a moment, grinning "You're the other Warden, right?"
He stiffened up. He nodded sharply, but not without a scowl. He wasn't too fond of being referred to as the 'other'.
"You must be thirsty," She said, putting the platter down on a nearby table.
"Uh, no thanks."
"You don't think it's been tampered with, do you?" She gasped, cocking an eyebrow adding a smirk.
"You know, I wouldn't put it past myself."
She chuckled a little. "How are you feeling?"
The Warden didn't answer, he just stared at her, backing against the wall.
She reached for the pitcher, pouring herself a glass. She held it up in a sort of cheer and knocked the water back in a few gulps.
"Pledge of good faith." She nodded, setting the glass down.
The Warden eyed the pitcher for a moment. He took slow steps toward the table and gingerly poured himself a glass. He took a few sips here and there, not quite believing that he wasn't being poisoned.
"And...you are?"
"Well, on paper it looks like I'm your nanny."
"I meant your name."
She looked him over for a moment, a certain coldness appeared in her expression.
"He's seen it fitting, for some reason to change my name to 'Howl', but, my name is Penna." She finished with a light disgust. However, it didn't last long as she quickly returned to the more chipper mood she had when she walked in.
"Alright then..." He didn't know which was the right name to call her by, neither seemed to make her happy. He decided to go with the safest-sounding one.
"Penna. Why are you here?" The Warden finished his last sip of water, not watching where he was setting his empty glass. He hit the edge of the table, glass slipping from his hand, creating an awkward clatter. He quickly regained whatever composure he could muster, which after the time he was having wasn't much.
Penna's eyes wandered to his empty glass and suddenly, a smirk spread across her face. A slight glance to the Warden before she hastily grabbed her throat and made hoarse, gagging sounds.
Doubled over, she pounded on her chest, continuously retching.
The Warden jumped back, startled half out of his wits. His eyes flew from the glasses to the choking lady rolling on the floor. He grabbed his own throat instinctively. He didn't feel as ill as she looked, but the sinking in the pit of his stomach soon changed that.
"I-I knew it!" He frantically sprinted around the room, running from corner to corner as if finding a way out would help him escape his death. He was so busy banging on windows and doors, calling for help that he hadn't noticed Penna had stopped coughing, or indeed was standing, staring at him with a look that seemed to say, 'Are you done now?'
"Would you relax?" She called, bringing the Warden out of his panic. "You'll tear your stitches."
The Warden stopped suddenly to clear his throat, not at all amused by this petty trick. "Relax? Of course I can relax! If I were any more relaxed I'd be dead!" He tossed his hands in the air then with one hand pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle an oncoming headache. "At any rate, you didn't answer my question."
"Well aside from... part-time baby-sitting services," She said looking the Warden up and down, "I'm head of Interrogations." Penna nodded with a slight bow.
"Ha! You? And Interrogator with a sense of humor?" He wasn't buying it. Or, at least he didn't want to buy it.
'Why have they sent an Interrogator to my room? I'm about to be tortured, aren't I?'
Penna rolled her eyes, taking a seat on the sofa. "It's the only way I think I'd be able to keep myself sane. Trust me, in this place, your sanity is usually the first thing to go."
"So, why aren't you...you know...Interrogating?" He replied, inching along the wall to the other side of the room. Perhaps he hoped to somehow blend in with his surroundings.
"You haven't captured anyone for me to interrogate yet." She crossed her legs and began bouncing her foot. One would consider her actions to be out of nervousness and in truth she was, a little.
"I'd think that Alice would be in charge of something like that."
"Well, her...tactics are for when I cannot break the captive's mental barrier. It usually doesn't go that far though." The bouncing of her foot started to increase.
"No offense," He started, using his hands for emphasis, "But you don't seem that intimidating for someone who..." The Warden paused for a moment to let out a sudden yawn. "...Questions rebel forces."
Penna smiled a little. "The victims are first put to sleep, after that is when I come in."
"What do you mean? Is it some sort of subconscious...extraction...thing?" It sounded like something he'd have the Doctor work on.
"Eh, not exactly, but you're thinking though and that's good." She nodded, adding to the false praise.
"Well then, what is..." Another yawn. "...It?" The Warden shook his head. He felt very tired all of a sudden. In his mind he justified that all the grand things that happened to him would tucker anyone else out as it had him. Still, he had to stay alert.
Penna looked up at the ceiling, sinking in her chair a little. She didn't really want to answer his question, but he did have a right to know what he was dealing with now. The sense of awkwardness began to outweigh the silence in the room. She cleared her throat a little before she spoke again.
"I go inside their mind, take out the vital memories, such as camp locations, plans of attack, images of their higher-ups or anything else that might be useful to yo-" She paused, looking him over once more. She couldn't lump the two of them together, she decided. They weren't the same person. Well...they were but this one was definitely different. "Him."
The Warden blinked, utterly confused. "Ho-"
"I'm just one of the lucky ones I suppose." Another statement filled with distaste.
"Then," She continued. "When I find everything I can...I wipe their memories and give them new ones. Fabricate their past. The idea is to make the enemy think they were on our side from the very beginning. Only..."
"What? Only what?" He was now sitting on the sill of a window, looking as though if the plated, bullet-proof, foot-thick glass wasn't holding him back, he'd jump.
"Only most of the captives die or go completely mad before I get a chance to give them their new past. I'm... still sort of learning."
"I'm not understanding how this works. Is there a machine involved? Do you swing a watch or what?" The Warden shook his head again to keep himself alert. His fatigue was beginning to get to him more and more. Why was he so tired? He just woke up.
"I told you, I'm just one of the...lucky ones." Penna said, looking away for a moment.
"Ha! What's it? Some kind of magic?" His words and gestures showed a sense of bravery that suggested the opposite of what he was trying to convey. He sounded more nervous the more he was forced to sit in this woman's company.
"Ooh, you're not a witch are you?" His forced grin began to droop as his eyes grew heavier.
Penna obliged his facade with a chuckle of her own. "He's called me that before, but I'm not in the sense that you're thinking." She nodded in his direction, smirking.
The Warden felt his head tilt forward. He jerked it back up with a start. His exhaustion was getting the better of him. No, he had to stay awake while she was here. For all he knew she could be some well-dressed psycho come to kill him. He glanced at the water pitcher once more. That little stunt she pulled had put his mind at ease on whether or not his future-self was trying to poison him. Only just a bit, however.
"So you're feeling alright then?"
"If you're here to take care of me, then find my suit." The Warden said, brushing his shoulder off before yawing again.
"It's being tailored. We figured you'd want it back without the holes in it."
"Well in that case I'm feeling pretty sh-" So much for staying alert. The Warden collapsed on the floor. The curtains floating over him from the resulting rush of wind. In the few seconds that followed, he began to snore.
Penna scoffed, shaking her head before carefully tip-toeing to him. She hovered over him for a moment, making sure he was indeed asleep. She gently grabbed him by his shoulders and sat him up, leaning his head against the wall for balance. Out of her vest pocket she pulled out a tiny notebook and pen.
"For both our sakes let's hope this works, alright?" She whispered as she clicked her pen.