AN: Hello again! Sorry I'm a day late with uploading but better late than never, yeah? Thanks for continuois reviews and support guys. The next chapters are gonna be a bit hefty so look forward to it!
The asylum had a fluid routine. In the morning, prisoners were awoken by a loud and obnoxious siren. If that didn't manage to wake people up, the guards would parade down the halls and bang on the doors of their assigned prisoners till they woke up. Why weren't the prisoners allowed to sleep while they could? Wally quickly deduced that it kept their thoughts clouded and the guards, who came for prisoners at all hours of the day, preferred them awake for interrogations. For those who still had brain-chips, their sleeping thoughts also confused the chips or were at least no use to the government. Better to read thoughts that have a marginal chance for merit. Those with chips were likely not in this asylum though, Wally noted, as they would have to be absolute imbeciles to run around committing homicide with a brain-chip still lodged in their cranium.
Most days, Wally sat around and pondered thoughts such as these. No one came to interrogate him within his first week. He figured they were probably waiting for him to weaken a bit and start to loathe this wretched hellhole of a prison so he'd spill all he knows just at the thought of getting out. You can only do so much in a cell that only is a bit wider and longer than your arm span. Nothing to do but sit and think and talk to yourself. Or the guard, but of course he would never answer. Wally didn't let this bother him, though. Every day he would ask the guard the same questions; "What's your name?" "Why're you here instead of somewhere that makes you happy?" "What's on the menu today?"
There were occasional sounds from the guard that Wally took as responses. He might sigh, or grunt, which was something at least. Wally tried to measure what time of day it was by the events that occurred outside his cell. The wake up call was probably around 7am, considering all the guards seemed to still be waking up as well. His guard by the door was replaced around 11:30 and came back within half an hour. Most likely his lunchtime. The point when Wally got food was probably around 5 o'clock, because his eyes would start to get a bit droopy and the only thing keeping him awake was the meal. The sort-of-food-but-really-shouldn't-be-consumed meal. He knew if he refused the food it'd just make his wounds hurt more once he got to interrogation. Heal slower, move slower, escape slower. Nothing much to do about it. After all that, he'd go to sleep at 7pm or later, but he wasn't sure when he guard left to be replaced by a nightshift. One night he tried to stay up to find out, but he ended up falling asleep sprawled out on the floor with his upper body leaning against the side of the mattress.
Midway through the second week they came in to take him to interrogation. Wally went along easily. Smiled and said good morning boys and acted like it was all part of the usual routine. The men who came to take him didn't seem too fazed by anything he did, so Wally took the chance he had to give his door guard a good look.
He was definitely taller than Wally, and the muscles were there. He had a simple black haircut that didn't seem to be combed all the way. Those icy blue eyes didn't meet Wally's emerald green. Wally felt a wicked smile creep onto his face. The guard must be scared now because he knew who the redhead was by now. One of the most wanted criminals in the nation. A bonafide killer, clever trickster, and overall nutjob. A key piece of Wally's escape plan was being able to scare the guard into submission, or to halt him long enough to grab his gun and key card.
The good look wasn't that good of a look though, since once both of his feet were out of his cell he was ordered to face the wall as they wrapped a strip of black cloth around his head to cover his eyes and handcuffs for his wrists. Couldn't see anything. Typical. Thankfully, Wally had no shoes or socks, so he could feel the floor. He tried to measure how many steps it took to get to the room, and what turns they took. He had time to memorize however, so he didn't push himself too hard. Had to keep his cool for his first interrogation, didn't he?
The men took him into a room, pushed him down onto a chair, and secured him in it with a few straps of leather. One of the men asked if Wally had a brain-chip, the other replied with a flat no. Rather boring. After a couple minutes the men took off the blindfold, and Wally gave a polite thanks. They probably spent four hours barraging him with questions. Every time, Wally kept his smile and said he knew nothing, they had the wrong man. The men didn't seem surprised, and oddly enough not that frustrated. At the end, the man stationed behind Wally clocked him on the head with a baton. He woke up in his cell with an awful headache and his meal at his feet. Only bread and water today. No orange.
On the inside, Wally broke his cool. He wanted to have a fit, yell and scream and do anything to get out of this box and just be back outside and feel like he wasn't some caged lab rat, looking forward only to more interrogations and punishments. His breathing audibly quickened and his fists were clenched. The redhead didn't notice the guard move to peer into the cell. An hour passed before Wally managed to calm himself down and rationalize and save his anger. He went to his bed, muttered a good night to his guard, and just before he closed his eyes he heard a whisper from the guard.
"My name's Conner."