Night 63: Entry Room

[damned_intercom]

Quiet static filtered through the intercom as the door to the Entry Room was pushed open. The area was almost completely dark, save for the flickering beam spilling from the lone, abandoned flashlight on the floor.

If that wasn't enough to put any entering patients on edge, the crimson puddle smeared across the flashlight's path likely was. The source of the blood soon became obvious: two still corpses lay sprawled next to each other. One was Daemon Sadi -- or, rather, what was left of him. Although his face was still recognizable enough, one of his arms was missing, and his chest looked as those some creature had reached in and ripped his heart out.

The other mangled body was trickier to place, as the poor person's flesh was twisted and bloated beyond recognition in some places, not unlike the way some of the nurses had transformed on the buses.

Closer inspection would reveal the face of a man in his final moments. Some would even see the distinct tattoos and recognize him as Abarai Renji. More unnerving was the abandoned, bloodied knife resting next to the former man's corpse, his belly having been gouged open for some unknown purpose. A trail of scarlet footsteps led away from the scene before abruptly disappearing at the northern door.

Did a similar fate await the unfortunate one who had stumbled across this bloodbath?

Comments

[vstheworld]

[From here]

As surprises went, Scott would have preferred a pony.

The colour seeped out of Scott's face as the scene before him sunk in. He had nearly slipped on the carpet, it was so slick with blood; he wasn't sure what kept him standing now, either. Maybe just the fact that he could barely make out the full horror in the flickering glow.

There were deaths at the Institute and then there was . . . Scott tried to swallow and failed. Indy's death was starting to look merciful.

He took a step back, breathing deadly quiet. "Have you seen a little girl? Short, black hair? About seven years old?" Scott murmured this to himself as he edged along the dark stains, trying not to discern the twisted shapes of carnage but almost compelled to make them out all the same. He didn't know either of them. Even with the distinguishing marks, the most he could think was that he had maybe seen someone with tattoos around the Institute before. At least there weren't any tufts of blue hair scattered through the scene, he thought with a violent churn in his stomach.

His ears stayed wide open as he slowly, slowly made his way along the side wall, keeping his back to it. Partly to stay as far away from the bodies as he could, partly so that if whatever (or whoever) had done this was still around, they couldn't get the jump on him. Probably.

[fluctuate]

[from here]

Ramona went from craving grilled cheeses to completely sick to her stomach in three seconds. Actually, it was faster. It was instantaneous> Why did she think this was a good idea? Though she was too stunned to actually ask herself that.

The other thing that happened immediately was the glowing. Ramona's fingers curled as she looked at the mangled body and then up toward Scott. ... Scott? Her eyes turned toward his hands. They weren't bloody. He didn't do this, right? He looked scared, right? Truthfully, Ramona wasn't registering it. There was just a strong part of her that wanted to throw up, and another strong part of her that wanted to run.

Yet she was almost paralyzed with fear.

Her hold on the baseball bat didn't loosen, though. It only tightened as she looked between the "mess" and Scott, though she wasn't exactly swinging her head to do this. It was just a twitch of her eyes back and forth.

"Scott, you didn't—" she managed, pulling the bat back toward her to prep it. The action was familiar, instantaneous, and just in case. Scott warned her they could do things to them, and maybe that was just it. Maybe Scott was given the ability to rip someone apart without going all Kill Bill bloody style with it.

Of course, that didn't make sense. Not at all. But Ramona's head wasn't making a lot of sense at the moment.

[vstheworld]

Scott would have jumped out of his skin had he not been just as paralyzed as Ramona. He was almost halfway across the room, back still against the wall, when she entered. It was the stench of the room, he would later decide; the stench of death had a hypnotic, leadening effect on his body. Any body.

It was for that reason that Scott was slow to react when Ramona entered the room, and slow to raise his hands up when she prepped that bat. "No! No—" Scott coughed, the back of his throat unprepared for the stench hitting it full force. He covered his mouth, breathed through his sleeve for a moment, then looked back up. "No, it's just... Just me."

Considered how their last meeting had gone, Scott wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing to be right now.

"...Can we go?" he asked after a dry swallow.

[complicatedliar]

[From here]

The smell of blood was thick in the entry room, far too much to be coming from Castiel alone. With senses keener than a human's, Loki caught a hint of effluvia, and rot that indicated the blood was older.

He noted the sound of static from the intercom, and the flickering flashlight. Out of habit, he made a hissing sound, the sort of thing used to indicate caution without the need for actual words. Suddenly, he found himself wishing that he hadn't thrown the last of his rocks outside.

[madeinthehrl]

For someone who'd seen as much combat as Soma had, it was a little odd that the smell of blood would be so off-putting. But mobile suit skirmishes were mostly clinical affairs, conducted in the safety of a cockpit full of filtered air, and she couldn't help the involuntary gag that came as she entered the room after Castiel.

She clenched her teeth and tried not to react further. Crouching, she picked up the fallen flashlight, blinking rapidly so her eyes could adjust. Marie couldn't sense anything else out of the ordinary here--not yet--but that was no guarantee of safety in the institute. Soma straightened and brought the weak beam around in an arc, sweeping the immediate area and stopping abruptly as the light fell on the mangled bodies.

One of the faces was recognizable immediately. She wished it wasn't. But she'd spoken to him just a few days ago. And now...

"Daemon," she mouthed involuntarily, glancing up wide-eyed at Lingormr and Castiel. And as for the other...she pressed her lips together. Between the flickering flashlight and the twisted, swollen limbs, she wasn't sure she could have identified the body at first glance, even if she'd wanted to take a closer look.

[freewill]

Castiel made sure that the door shut behind them as they stepped inside, though he almost regretted having boxed them in when he realized what they'd stumbled in on. He saw the tenseness in both Lingormr and Soma as they took in the bloody scene, and while he also regarded it grimly, Castiel had seen this sort of thing a number of times before, even while working with the Winchesters.

One of the bodies looked like its heart had been clawed out, and his mind immediately supplied werewolf. The other was in an even worse state, but that didn't stop Castiel from stepping forward with an odd calmness to get a closer look.

He took in the knife and the way that the bloated corpse had been gutted open. For what reason? Had one of them killed the other, or had they both been slain by something else? Castiel glanced around, but he didn't sense anything close to them beyond these two lost souls. They'd died steeped in blood and violence; it was the exact sort of thing that could produce a vengeful spirit.

At that point he heard Soma speak up and turned around to face her. His arm was tweaked when he moved, and suddenly he remembered how he'd been injured. At the moment it hardly seemed to matter compared to the fates these two had suffered, but he realized that he should probably make an attempt to stop the bleeding. "You knew one of them?" The name Daemon seemed familiar, as someone who'd had information. With any luck, the man had passed that word along before coming to this untimely end.

[complicatedliar]

Loki stepped forward so he was abreast Soma, resting one hand on her shoulder briefly. The alarm on her face told him all he needed to know about the situation.

After a moment Loki drew closer and crouched down, examining the damage dispassionately. He knew of beasts that could leave those sorts of marks, of course, though there was likely some kind of horror unique to this realm that had done the job.

But either way, it bothered him little. He knew neither of the men, and had seen worse in his lifetime.

He plucked the knife from the ground. Grisly as it was, he wasn't willing to leave a perfectly good weapon behind, particularly not when it was one suited to his preferred style of combat. He wiped the blade on the ragged pantsleg of the corpse closest to it, then looked for signs that it had been tampered with magically.

He felt nothing from it, though he couldn't count on that as such.

Loki tucked the blade into his belt, angled properly to keep it from cutting him as he moved. He began to straighten, then hesitated, crouching down again to close the eyes of the corpse Soma had identified. It seemed the courteous thing to do, at least for her. Only then did he return to Soma's side.

"We ought to move quickly along unless there's something you think ought to be done. This sort of stink will attract beasts, I should think." He glanced at Castiel. "If we go past my room, I've kits with which I can stitch that mess up."

[madeinthehrl]

Now that she had the time to have a proper look at the second corpse, she realized with a feeling of dull resignation that she could probably identify the second as well. There weren't too many people in the institute who looked like that, torn open or not.

Maybe it was a little too early for her to be drawing conclusions. But she'd only ever met Daemon in one context, and she didn't like where her train of thought was leading.

"I spoke to him a few days ago," she said. "These two people...I think they were the ones who helped Prescott and Thayer escape after they left us that night." Castiel, at least, would know which night immediately. "Daemon certainly was, and if that's Renji...I don't want to assume anything, but..."

Did that mean they were in danger, too? They certainly hadn't done anything to help Aguilar that night. Did that count as aiding and abetting the enemy?

She couldn't think straight. Not with the smell of fresh blood in her nostrils like this. Lingormr moved forward and closed Daemon's eyes, and she nodded gratefully in response. That would have to do for now. Shocking as the sight of his body had been, he'd only been an acquaintance, and there wasn't anything else they could do for him. Not while they were still at risk.

"I...you're right." Staying here would do nobody any good. Especially not with Castiel still bleeding like that. "Let's move."

[madeinthehrl]

[to here]

[corvus_veritas]

[From here.]

...But as they entered the building at last, it suddenly became impossible for Byrne to even think of running anymore.

As a prosecutor, he had seen countless dead bodies before - horribly mutilated bodies, even - and yet, he couldn't help but be shocked at what he and his friends had just stumbled upon. He'd seen the face of one of the bodies only in passing; not anyone he'd ever spoken to, just someone he was aware of. Another patient. The other, he couldn't say. Probably another patient too. Regardless, it was obvious that the two men had died in the most horrific of ways, and the bloody footprints leading towards the far door doubtlessly belonged to the bastard responsible for this.

Was this another sick joke from Landel? Or was this supposed to be some sort of warning?

Byrne swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes away from the bloodbath in front of him. Words escaped him. So did actions.

Could they really go forward through an area like this? Towards the killer?

[tasteoftruth]

Badd slammed the door behind them as soon as Byrne and Renamon were inside. He fell against the wall, panting, staring in dulled horror at the mangled corpses in the entryway. The previous panic was making it hard to get worked up over them. He looked to the faces first. No one he knew personally, from what little he could use to identify to them, though that hardly made the crime less severe.

He closed his eyes and tried to get his breath back. Next move, he needed to contemplate their next move. Nightshift was in effect but their weapons wouldn't have been returned to them, meaning they were back at square one.

"We should move," he gasped out. "Safer inside. Need to get armed."

[diamondstorm]

...For once the Digimon could have been claimed to be unaware of her settings. For the scenery, gruesome as it was, a distinct show and mockery of the horrific manner of death (that was likely something many others had went through, likely something that had been experienced but never found like this, likely--), and for the simple fact of this.

One would be a man called Renji. The other was Daemon Sadi.

She knew the first only from the fact of the amount of time both herself and the other was here, though he had vanished for a time. The bulletin mainly, had his name and description of tattoos, but she had never met him face-to-face.

Daemon, however. She could not say they were close. Not, perhaps, in any way, but like Byrne, like Nigredo and Badou, like Castiel, he was one that she shared information with, and she had learned a deal she hadn't known from the man. Confident and secure, she was someone she was have defined as being alive.

No longer. She stared openly, emotions wiped from her face, only her eyes telling, wide and dark. "Daemon."

[tasteoftruth]

Seemed Renamon knew one of them. Badd knew that look, he'd worn it himself when his colleagues had fallen in the line of duty. He'd worn it when they'd found Byrne's corpse lying on the prosecutor's lobby floor. These two were beyond help, though, their problems were over and perhaps they were the luckier ones for it. Their attention needed to be on the living.

"We need to keep moving," he repeated, trying to jog her out of her grief. "Kitchen, maybe, there should be some knives in there. We need to get armed and then we need to see what we can do to help the others outside." He stalked through the door, assuming the others would follow.

[To here.]

[stop_the_rain]

[from here]

Murphy pushed the door and angled his body in, flashlight beam ahead of him to illuminate the room. He'd been wondering at the lack of blood and desiccated corpses. That didn't mean he fucking missed them! And it was bad. Really bad. Whatever had done it was big and mean and angry. And apparently gone, but...to where?

Immediately, his bile rose and he turned, holding up an arm to hopefully grab Nina as she came after him and turn her away. He dropped the beam of his light as well, his shoulders shaking.


"You don't want to see."

[mirrorimage]

Nina felt Murphy grab her and immediately tried to shrug him off and struggle away. "I have to," she insisted, even though she could tell by looking at him and feeling the vibrations of him shaking so close to her that whatever it was had to be horrifying. "I've got to know!"

She pushed past him into the room, shining her own flashlight. She gasped loudly and involuntarily at the sight of what it fell on. A dead man... no, two dead men... mutilated almost beyond recognition. It was truly horrific. Nina knew whatever they found would be bad, but somehow, she wasn't expecting it to be this awful.

Nina suddenly felt like she was going to faint as a dizzy lightheadedness passed over her and her knees shook a little like they might buckle out from under her. But the feeling quickly faded and Nina was left standing upright, although the overwhelming disgust and horror remained as she surveyed the room, shining the light over every corner only to see yet more blood.

Nina had seen dead bodies many times before, but never like this. She'd seen blood before too, although never so much of it at once. This kind of grotesque mutilation was something Nina had never encountered, even in her worst nightmares. Even Johan, with all the terrible crimes he'd committed, had never done anything like this.

The beam from her flashlight landed on what looked like tracks. Bloody tracks.

"A monster," Nina whispered, to no one. "A monster did this."

Murphy had been right after all. There were monsters here, and they were nothing like the ones Nina had read about in storybooks.

[stop_the_rain]

Murphy didn't bother to look. He'd seen it all before and he didn't need to see it again. At least he didn't know any of those people. It had been worse when it was guys he'd been locked up with for years. Even if he didn't like them, something about being in that situation together for so long...well, bonds and all that crap.

"Yeah."

Murphy raked his hair back and offered Nina a helpless, pained look from the doorway. He knew what she was going through, he'd gone through the same thing just a couple of days ago. It was terrifying and confusing and crazy and he wished he could give her something to make this all better. But all he could do was give he what he'd so desperately wanted - someone to go through hell with.

"I know this is really tough, believe me. And I know what's in there is awful. But...you're not alone. I'm not gonna leave you alone in here. And that's a promise, little lady." His John Wayne impersonation wasn't that good, but it was passable.

"Come on. There's nothing we can do here."

[mirrorimage]

Not being American, Nina lacked the cultural context for truly appreciating John Wayne impersonations, but nevertheless, she did smile, however faintly and sadly, at Murphy's words. She could tell it was an attempt at lightening the mood and she appreciated it, despite the horrifying circumstances they were in. She even managed a slight nod. He was right, after all. They weren't alone.

"Thank you," she said, as she turned away from the interior of the room, deep gratitude lacing the words. "I won't leave you alone, either."

Murphy was right about something else, too. There was nothing they could go here, except get out in case whatever was responsible came back.

As they moved from the room, Nina was still slightly pale, although she tried not to show how frightened, repulsed and angry she truly was.

[selfnighted]

[from here]

It was a relief to be indoors. There were monsters here, too, but Maya could at least depend on the lack of open-space—the openness instilled in her a defenseless quality she disliked. Failing that, they'd at least taken shelter from the winged creatures in the air—

—and into whatever this was. The last time she'd witnessed such a scene had been bad enough, but that situation had been abstract enough that she could rationalize to herself that that bloody hallway had not been littered with the blood or innards of people. Whatever had caused this scene in the entry room had not been so thorough.

Maya stepped cautiously inside, looking over the bodies. Human bodies left such...messes. "Brook, I'm stepping outside," she said as she headed for the door into the rest of the asylum.

[somesoulsearching]

Brook only managed a few surprised sounds as Maya took his sleeve and pulled him along, wondering if she were in some sort of hurry all the while. Definitely not the stroll he'd imagined. But effective in getting them close and eventually into the safety of the building.

Having a rook overhead was a lovely thing. No more birds could get at them now, at least not of the same size. He hoped there weren't any smaller versions of them.

Or he was hoping when his attention fell to the scene in the room. Brook didn't have the words for what he saw, knowing all too well the aftermath of a battle. They must have been patients... he reasoned quietly, passing eyes over the two forms that seemed to have been human. He could only wonder if one of them had been brainwashed when this had happened. They hadn't been on the buses, that was for sure. The blood was fresh, but not completely so.

And it bothered him that he knew that much.

"Y-yes, that's fine..." he allowed for Maya to do what she would, lingering just a bit in the room with his thoughts. He'd been through enough that this shouldn't have bothered him, lived long enough, but every time he couldn't help the memories and had to, if only in some small way, pay respects to the dead. A slow tune started carrying in the air, hummed through Brook's lips as he passed.

[selfnighted]

[to here]