Night 50: East Wing, Hall A
[from here]
Mello hadn't been back to this hallway since that bogus therapy session he'd been too out of it to use to his advantage, a missed opportunity that still rankled. If he hadn't been sedated, he was sure he would've had his wits about him enough to find out something about that file the Institute had on him, or whether or not being let out was completely random.
But a lot of things would've been different if he hadn't been hampered by the drugs. Mello stubbornly clung to the belief that it would have made a difference that night. He refused to accept that the Institute could do whatever it wanted to them, no matter how much the place tried to rub their faces in that very knowledge. Some people might have been able to find consolation in thinking the game they were losing was rigged against them, but not him. That presupposed a system where winning wasn't possible at all, and he couldn't stand that idea, not as long as he could push himself harder, find more to try.
He refocused on the task at hand, which should have been getting easier due to practice these last couple of days, but wasn't; and took a sniff of the hallway's air. "Heh. I'm thinking that one." He pointed to the first door on his right. "You want to bust it, or should I?"
Mello hadn't been back to this hallway since that bogus therapy session he'd been too out of it to use to his advantage, a missed opportunity that still rankled. If he hadn't been sedated, he was sure he would've had his wits about him enough to find out something about that file the Institute had on him, or whether or not being let out was completely random.
But a lot of things would've been different if he hadn't been hampered by the drugs. Mello stubbornly clung to the belief that it would have made a difference that night. He refused to accept that the Institute could do whatever it wanted to them, no matter how much the place tried to rub their faces in that very knowledge. Some people might have been able to find consolation in thinking the game they were losing was rigged against them, but not him. That presupposed a system where winning wasn't possible at all, and he couldn't stand that idea, not as long as he could push himself harder, find more to try.
He refocused on the task at hand, which should have been getting easier due to practice these last couple of days, but wasn't; and took a sniff of the hallway's air. "Heh. I'm thinking that one." He pointed to the first door on his right. "You want to bust it, or should I?"