Case 6 (Banban x Reader)

Day Two: Tell Me More

You awoke to a notification from your phone. The sound was rather foreign to you, being that it originated from a new application the corporation required you to have. You guessed it had to do with the untraceable anonymity they were trying to maintain– so regular messaging apps were out of the picture.

At first you shot up from bed, swiping your phone from the nightstand to check the time. Then you thanked god for not waking up late. In fact, the message woke you up an hour earlier than you had set your alarm. You figured that going back to sleep would do more harm than good, so you lifted yourself off of your bed with a groan. Falling asleep was a bit of a challenge the night before as your mind was well-awake with replaying your experience yesterday. Your mind was occupied dissecting every little thing he did and said.

While you washed up for the day, you continued your analytical thoughts. You had to look at Banban's case from the standpoint that he fully believes he's lived a normal life as– you strained your brain to remember the name, Uthman.

Uthman. Why did that seem oddly familiar to you? You could have sworn that you saw that name on one of the many documents on your new-hire papers. But you didn't know that it had a direct connection to your case. Now you furrowed your brows in thought, wondering if you could possibly talk to the donor himself, and perhaps get a better look into the kind of life he had. It was impossible to look at Banban from a Tabula Rasa standpoint. Before you met him you had assumed his mind was malleable.

You slid open your closet, sifting through your various outfits. One thing you always cherished more than others in the morning was dressing yourself. Sure, it was a rather mundane thing to do, but one thing you had picked up from a place you had interned at during your college years was that appearance could mean everything to the atmosphere. Sure, you totally relied on your skills in psychology to get through your work, but you always kept that tidbit of information in the back of your mind when you got dressed in the morning. Even if it didn't, at least looking nice would bring your confidence up, right? It's like you heard somewhere– clothes make the person!

It was a quarter to the time they gave you when you pulled into the parking lot, keeping in mind the message they sent you when you woke up. They were requesting you to meet them at a different entrance rather than the one you had been taking the past times you entered. This one was rather secluded, and by the time you had parked your car in an alternative parking lot, you were confused to see a lack of a proper entryway. Sure, the garten was pretty big, especially now that you had been through the many atriums of their secluded underground laboratories, but you expected a more obvious entrance.

Then again, you thought, what were you supposed to expect?

Pushing through the slightly-rusted door after inserting the keycard that the agency gave you, those blinding hallways became apparent again. By now you wished that they had made the laboratory area just a little more child-friendly, even though no child would ever be caught down here.

You trekked on nervously down the hallway, your business-casual soles generating clicks. The walk was seemingly endless as the end seemed further and further away. To your luck, two familiar researchers clad in their usual white coats suddenly appeared at your side. You assumed they had joined you in the walk down to Banban's holding chamber.

"Goodmorning. On today's agenda we will be taking you to one of the classrooms." Of course, they didn't bother with small talk. Instead it was right to your duties for the new day. You figured that there was going to be little social time between your coworkers during your time at the company.

True to their word, you found yourself led to a completely new area of the garten. Surprisingly, your judgments about the lack of child-friendly elements from before were contradicted when you stepped into a brightly-colored doorway, into a room that was overwhelmingly maximalist. A repeated pattern of arching rainbows covered the walls, and the ceiling was painted to look like a partly-cloudy sky, the sun peaking out from one of the childlike blobs of white. You gulped at this unprecedented form of juxtaposition. It even made you look back at the hallway you were just in, feeling blinded by the sheer amount of white compared to the conglomerate of the current room.