damned_institute | Night 54: M61-M70 Hallway

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Night 54: M61-M70 Hallway

While Guy's conversation with Okita had been both interesting and enlightening in a number of ways, the man also knew that all of their talk was only that until they saw for themselves how this new management operated. There was a lot that could change now that they had soldiers, sergeants, officers, and even a general deciding their fate. He got the feeling that they were going to learn a lot more about their reason for being here. The military didn't usually sugarcoat things the way Landel always had.

It made him wonder why it was that the Head Doctor had seen a need to treat them the way he had, leaving everything as a mystery and putting on an act during the day. Had it just been his personal style, or had there been a point to it? Maybe he'd only had the clearance to tell them certain things, if it was really true that he was ranked lower than this general.

Either way, Guy knew that for the moment he had an obligation to the people he was traveling with at night, so he had to focus on that. He was careful to take in the message given by IRIS, noting that there was still some ambiguity involved; though the following announcement was far more attention-catching.

The voice was hard and yet unassuming, to the point and confident in its own way. It was also a voice he'd never heard, and yet it clearly didn't belong to the general, either. They weren't given the courtesy of an introduction; just a warning. Still, Guy had already figured that this night was going to be an interesting one, so that wasn't about to stop him.

As he went to open the closet where his sword had been stored, however, he was shocked to see that there was something there he hadn't ever expected to find here. Guy had often wondered why it was that so many people around him had gotten their outfits from home while he'd continually been stuck with just the uniform, but that had just changed.

He took a second or two to just stare at the clothes. It'd been so long since he'd actually worn them that they were definitely a sight for sore eyes, and he broke out into a smile without meaning to. Grabbing the vest, shirt, and leggings off of the hanger, he also picked up his boots and accessories and then turned to face his roommate.

"Look what I found," he said as he moved over to his bed and immediately started to change out of the Landel's uniform. He wasn't shy to start with and he'd been sharing this room long enough that he didn't mind if the other man saw him out of his clothes. "They're from home."

As excited as he was, he was even more interested in going to meet Anise, Tear, and Claude so that they could give their reactions as well. And having his own clothes back left him feeling even more invigorated to get over that wall and find something. Not willing to be deterred by what the voice over the intercom had said, Guy made sure to grab his sword, flashlight, and radio once he was dressed.

"I have to head out now, though. Have a safe night, all right?" Nodding to Okita, Guy then exited the room and started down the hall with the familiar sound of his well-loved boots hitting the floor with each step.

[To here.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He and Guy had been having a nice enough conversation about a rather awkward topic all things considered, when the speaking boxes on the walls turned on and I.R.I.S. began the usual nighttime spiel. It wasn't until the end that Okita even began to listen, and what he heard made him wish he hadn't.

Project 2911. The terminology was unfamiliar, but he sincerely disliked he thought it might imply. The feeling of dread only grew worse when an unknown man began to speak in Landel's place. Despite knowing that the mad doctor wouldn't be making an appearance tonight, Okita wasn't quite ready for a completely new and unnamed entity to take the reigns. With Landel, he still knew what to expect. With this person...?

Apparently, Okita had spoken too soon about the soldiers and their disciplinary measures. What had happened during the day was going to continue to effect them at night. Tonight, of all nights, when he was leading a group up to raid the upstairs room for weapons. If they ran into resistance, it would be deadly. Most of the team was unarmed and Asuka, at least, was untrained in hand to hand combat.

All of that was forgotten, however, when Guy went to his closet and came back looking like he'd just received twice his usual bonus at the New Year. Okita couldn't blame him, but he also couldn't help but laugh at how unintentionally cute Guy was being over his clothes being back. "I'm glad you finally get your turn," Okita replied, pushing himself out of his chair to get ready himself. He still had no idea where Hijikata's room was, so he had to wait until the man showed.

Okita had just finished pulling his own clothes out and lining them up when Guy was heading out the door. When his roommate called out his farewell, Okita stopped and waved to him, smiling. "You too, Guy-san. Be careful tonight."

The door closed and his smile faded, leaving Okita alone with his worries for the evening. Tonight would be difficult on everyone and he had to hope beyond all hope that the nurses would not be using their gas ability again. His lungs frankly wouldn't be able to take it and with Hijikata here now, he couldn't afford to let anyone know what was wrong with him.

Once he finished dressing, Okita removed first his own sword and next Homura's old sword from their hiding places. He didn't want to pass on Homura's weapon so soon, but there was no choice. All the captain could do was hope that tonight yielded at least one sword that Hijikata could use, so Okita could return Homura's weapon to its resting place. For once, Okita picked up his radio, too, hiding it within the folds of his clothes, just in case Marc had something to say about this recent development. Then, with everything gathered, he stepped outside into the hall to await his friend.

Edited 2011-02-10 05:33 (UTC)

Hijikata really had no idea what to expect so far as signals went. Once he'd been lead to his room, he'd been left alone to eat his dinner. No one else had come in or checked on him, but it had given him time to jot down a few notes to himself in the blank book he'd found on the desk and look through the contents of the drawers. Most of what he'd found hadn't been useful, but he'd torn out a few pages of paper from the book and shoved them into a pocket in case he needed to make any notes while he was out. The lack of his usual wardrobe was frustrating, but he could make due.

He also kept out the strange lantern that didn't need to be lit. He had no idea how or why it worked, but could not discount its likely usefulness. Then there was nothing to do but wait until the voices from the ceiling started up again. None of what he heard sounded good, and he silently cursed idiots who couldn't think before they acted. If people got hurt tonight because of the fight that had occurred that morning, someone was going to have to be held responsible.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on all of that, though. He needed to find Souji. He took one last look at the information he'd been given at breakfast, and then headed out the door of his room...

Only to catch sight of a very familiar uniform. Well, that was convenient, wasn't it?

He'd only just closed the door and settled into a comfortable position for watching the hallway when the door next to him opened, and a familiar figure stepped out. Okita hoped the surprise on his face wasn't too terribly evident when he looked over and found Hijikata standing in the doorway right next to his. The momentary upset of his plans (he'd been hoping to be able to do at least something to surprise Hijikata instead) quickly melted away into a laugh and a bow. "This will certainly make meeting up quite a bit easier, won't it."

Okita stepped away from his door and held Homura's sword out to his friend, his smile staying just as bright despite how difficult it was to see someone else hold the demi-god's weapon. "A gift for you until we can find you something more suitable."

Souji clearly hadn't been expecting to see him there any more than he'd expected to open his door and find the captain waiting outside, which could only mean they were conveniently roomed nearby. He glanced back at the number outside his own door. Right next to each other, then. That would be useful. "So it seems. Unfortunately, no one left me more suitable clothes." Not that he would have particularly wanted his whole uniform, as rarely as he wore it, but something other than this awkward Western wardrobe with its hideous logo would have been nice.

He looked over the sword for a moment before he took it from Souji. Not the size or weight he was used to, but he would make it work for him, at least for the time being. "It should work for now." The thanks was unspoken, of course. If Souji didn't know by now how grateful Hijikata was for his resourcefulness and aid, then the younger man didn't know him as well as he liked to claim.

Leave it to Hijikata to notice their difference in clothing and comment on it right away. It was unfortunate that Hijikata would have to suffer through the restraining Western pants, but hopefully it wouldn't be for long. Guy had just received his clothes from home recently, too, so maybe Hijikata had a chance in the near future. Even so, the gray clothes with its bright yellow face set against Hijikata's severe expressions were fun to watch. Okita laughed a bit and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his haori, tugging on the hems like a child. "I would lend them to you, but I don't think they'd fit~"

Hijikata had the sword in his hands now and he seemed to be testing the weight and balance of it, so Okita stepped away in case the man wanted to swing it a few times. Instead, Okita received a veiled thanks and he replied to it with a smile. He was glad to see that Hijikata would be able to use the weapon for now, especially since it was just this side of too heavy for Okita to use effectively. Hijikata had a good deal more strength than Okita did, making him a better fit for Homura's sword.

"I'm glad you like it," he said before stepping aside to motion to the hallway. "Shall we go then? I told the others we'd meet them by the stairs."

Hijikata snorted a little at the joke. There was no way the rather petite captain's clothing would ever fit him, and he wouldn't have wanted it anyway. He would just have to suffer the indignity of the clothing this place provided until he could find some alternative or discover where his own clothes had been hidden. Certainly, their personal effects had to have been taken somewhere.

"Let's go." He was interested to see who these people Souji worked with were. And the prospect of having some work to do was enough to distract him from the extremely irritating fact that he had not gotten to smoke since before he'd fallen asleep in his own room the previous night. That was another issue he was going to have to rectify eventually.

"Hm~?" Okita smiled to himself as he heard Hijikata snort at his joke. Even if it wasn't unusual for the vice commander to do such a thing when Okita took a jab at him, Okita also couldn't just give up right away. It was too much fun to keep poking at him; and he wasn't sure how long he'd have this time. "Hijikata-san must be in a good mood today~"

But jokes aside, they did have somewhere to go and things to do and Okita was still feeling the worries about this Project 2911 hanging overhead. If it was something that would interfere with their work tonight, it would bode ill for the meeting the next day. Okita wasn't the only one frustrated with how things were going so far, and he hoped the meeting would allow all the members to clear the air, as well as offer up what they were up to at night when they weren't with the club. "Let's go then."

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1041335.html?thread=75939767#t75939767)

Regime change? Huh.

Not that Kirk was too surprised at this turn of events, considering the spectacle they were treated to in the Sun Room, but he hadn't counted on it happening so quickly. Just this morning, he'd been musing over the possibility of trading one sadistic warden for another, but it hadn't really occurred to him that Head Doctor could be so easily displaced. It should've. Landel had warned them, after all.

Pardon him if Kirk wasn't exactly overflowing with sympathy for the man. Knowing what the bastard looked like simply guaranteed he'd know which face to punch if they met again in less risky circumstances. Had Landel been "softer" on them? Maybe. At least the nurses hadn't carried firepower or used brute force against unarmed prisoners. Were their new overlords any less fond of random experimentation and vague threats over the intercom? Apparently not. Project 2911. Kirk filed the number away for later — probably not much later, considering how these things went. At least he wasn't tripping over his own feet anymore.

Kirk finished adjusting his uniform, and collected the usual supplies, his fingers lingering a moment over the cover of his journal. He'd planned on passing his captain's logs over to Uhura during fourth shift, but the Head Doctor's unexpected appearance had put it out of mind. Damn. At least Uhura had a map, if she was planning on heading out tonight. Hopefully not alone. Kirk worried a moment over whether or not he should've ordered her to come along, but... history had shown that travelling in large groups wasn't a good idea. Besides, he suspected that whatever was going on between Bones and Spock, finding out would go better if it was just him.

He dropped the journal into the drawer of his desk, and instead placed two brand new scalpels on the tabletop. The rest was up to Zevran. Kirk picked up his aluminium bat, and headed out.

[to here]

Edited 2011-02-10 09:13 (UTC)

Once Kurobear had left for the night, Grell sat on the bed and brushed his hair out. His head was buzzing with some sort of noise that had begun as soon as the lights turned off and he feared it was another one of those headaches he'd become so prone to having lately. It didn't seem to be the same, but the sound had been building since the announcement about Project whatever it was had come onto the intercom. Grell cared little what happened to people in the Institute, but if it affected his ability to get around? Well, someone as going to pay - dearly.

With his hair brushed and his glasses replaced with his usual red pair, Grell stretched and rubbed his temples as he went to the closet. Perhaps it was just the sensitivity getting worse as someone passed by the area. Or maybe someone particularly strong had moved in next door. Wouldn't that be exciting? What girl didn't want a strong, handsome man moving in next door?

Speaking of doors, as Grell opened the closet, he found a most peculiar sight awaiting him. There, beneath his clothes hanging neatly on their hangers, was the chainsaw he'd given to Kazu-chi when he'd been fortunate enough to receive his back. The feeling had been fleeting and... Again, the strange fogginess returned and Grell shook his head. It didn't matter what had happened after that. What mattered was the fact that the chainsaw was back.

But how?

After taking the blade out and testing it once, Grell dressed and decided that the chainsaw and his usual scalpels would do for the night. He had no real objective in mind, but staying indoors was proving to be more and more difficult as the buzzing was getting louder the longer he remained. The heeled boots on his feet and the red jacket hanging off his upper arms, Grell stepped outside and suddenly, the buzzing stopped.

And something else kicked in.

He could feel a familiar power surging through him like the quickening of his blood at the sight of a certain butler. It wasn't all of his power, but it was something and something that was incredibly helpful now that he had a chainsaw to lug about.

Well...if that was how the world wished to treat him all of a sudden, why should Grell balk at the gift dropped on his doorstep? With a smirk, Grell took one step further out of his door and then looked down the hall. Since he had no idea how far this could go, he might as well test it on somewhere nearby to ensure nothing failed and he ended up dumped into the lake or something.

Taking a deep breath, Grell stepped down the hall and headed off into the night.

[speeding to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1043064.html?thread=75941240#t75941240)]

Soren sat on the edge of the bed, running over the intercom message in his head as he waited for Ranulf. No doubt several within the institute would be angered by the dismissal of the head doctor, if only at their now absent chance to get revenge. Because of that, there was an innate irritation at the military that had taken over. They were more organised, and determined to get things done. Soren could empathise with that desire, even if he wasn't happy to see it acting against him.

At least with the military in charge, their actions would be easier to read. Soren had done enough time in mercenary companies, not just Greil's, and worked with enough soldiers that had joined their own ranks to understand a fair amount about them. Landel, on the other hand, kept his motivations close to him, and that made it far more difficult to build a strategy against him. Knowing the strategy of those they were up against was key in formulating their own. Too many of the patients here seemed so eager to get information that they neglected to properly organise themselves. How had Ranulf been here for so long without possessing the same maps that Soren had been given on his first day? Only through sheer luck on his part, and the absence of it on Ranulf's, it would seem. Even if information was being used as a bargaining tool, it was obvious that it wasn't being used effectively enough.

No wonder things like this caught them by surprise. They weren't sharing information, so even if a few had seen the signs, none of them could fully prepare. Fools.

Dodging through the hallways with his improved eyesight and the map he'd marked out during the week, had made finding Soren's room an easy task. He straightened up, still giddy about the return of his tail and ears, and knocked lightly on the door. Hopefully, the mage hadn't fallen asleep.

Soren wasn't quite so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't hear the knock, but he didn't rush to open the door. He'd heard more than one pair of footsteps scuffling around outside so far tonight, and wasn't going to abandon caution. After listening carefully for any hints of any fighting going on, he cracked open the door.

It was odd that, after just a day in the company of Ranulf looking like a beorc, Soren was set on edge by the sudden reappearance of his ears and tail. Not simply in the usual way that he reacted to sub-humans, either. Part of it was shock - the fact that it wasn't what he'd been expecting, and he needed to recalculate every plan he'd come up with. More of it, as was often the case when his guard flew up, was to do with fear. Ranulf had already specified that he could no longer transform, and despite the animosity between them, Soren trusted his word so long as Ranulf had no reason to lie.

So unless the tables had turned unexpectedly yet again after the appearance of the military within the institute, which wasn't a possibility he could discount, but still thought unlikely - this was probably some sort of shapeshifting creature, one of the monsters supposed to be running about. Ordinarily, he'd have blasted it unconscious with magic and then turned to wonder about the specifics. Ordinarily, however, he'd have his magic.

This time, he didn't. And he'd already discovered earlier that evening that the doors did not lock from the inside, which meant barricading himself in the room to buy time was no longer an option. This left a lot of problems, and relatively little time to run through his remaining options and formulate a plan of action.

Ranulf's grinned as Soren opened the door, but when he saw the look of surprise and then fear, his expression resembled Mordecai's when he was faced with a difficult question. Had he done something wrong? Ranulf subconsciously scratched the back of his ear... his "ear"! That was it! Now he felt ridiculous. He fumbled around for some kind of explanation... he wish he had one of his own!

"I... they grew back tonight. I don't know why... or how."

He looked troubled now. Was Soren angry with him? Had his prejudice returned, now that Ranulf resembled his old self? Ranulf folded his arms, giving the mage a serious look.

"Is something the matter? I understand I look a bit different, but if we're going to head out we don't have much time to waste."

Soren continued to eye him warily. From the impressions he'd been given by the other patients, the monsters that swarmed the place at night weren't the sort to stop and hold a conversation. Even so.

"I want proof that you're the same person I spoke to earlier today." It was difficult enough trusting a sub-human to such a degree, or anyone at this place, without things like this shaking what little faith Soren had.

Whether it was Ranulf or not, they were speaking sense. They were short on time as it was. Delaying things any longer could hinder how far they managed to explore that night. On the other hand, could Soren really afford not to check? He'd lost enough lives through careless mistakes before.

Ranulf was about to argue more, but Soren's statement caught him off guard, causing the words to catch in his throat like a line of horses approaching a river. Proof that he was himself? Who else could he be?! Although... perhaps Soren thought he was a monster (not that that would change much anyway...) or perhaps a hallucination.

Ranulf supposed he couldn't blame him. Soren was a tactician after all. Being thrown into an unknown environment, you really couldn't trust many people here. He looked at the ceiling, his tail twitching back and forth, readying a list of things to prove his identity.

"Ok... we're both from Tellius, we had the pleasure of meeting through Ike who was the leader of our mercenary group. Before I joined, my two laguz counterparts, Lethe and Mordecai, joined under orders of King Caineghis. This didn't please you much, as you have a low and boiling hatred for laguz... or what you call "sub-humans". Luckily at the end of the war, we defeated King Ashnard to escape the hellish things he would've brought to our world...." He took in a deep breath. It wasn't just the long-winded explanation. The memories stung a bit more than he'd like.

"...only to find ourselves in a separate hell on a separate world. I found you this morning at breakfast, after living in this place for a week. I had no tail or ears at the time, but I showed you my map that I'd drawn out in THIS journal. You informed me you have a more detailed map and that we were going to explore this place a bit more tonight. There was also some kind of fight that involved what others say is "gas", that neither of us participated in."

He offered the journal as proof, giving Soren a sort of pleading look.

"Honestly Soren, if I meant to kill you, you'd be dead by now. You have no tomes to cast any spells and could probably overtake you physically. What would I have to gain, luring someone who'd only been here a day, out into the dark confines of this prison?"

The list of supposed proof that Ranulf reeled off only served as a case in point of how little could be done in this place without trusting somebody. Needless to say, it made Soren no less on edge. He wasn't happy relying on Ranulf at the best of times. Every time it had been done in the past had been Ike's decision, not his. Logic pointed in Ranulf's favour, in that he was an aide of the king. There had to be a certain level of dependability. Soren was certain of it, with regards to the king and even to Ike. Between himself and Ranulf, though, there was more at play.

Short of asking him outright, which Soren had no intention of doing, there was no real way to know if Ranulf was even aware. It was one thing not to mention it in front of Ike, and another not to bring it up at all, even now they were in this place and any who might overhear were unlikely to have even the slightest idea what they were on about. And yet Ranulf hadn't mentioned it. Not even once.

Soren kept his gaze steady, still trying to reconcile the mental image of Ranulf that he'd become briefly accustomed to with the old one standing in front of him. Ears and a tail were just markings, really. It wasn't as though Ranulf had ever actually been a beorc. The only thing that had changed, potentially, was that they had been given more fighting power. "Can you transform now, then?"

Soren gathered the items he'd found scattered around the room - a pair of keys, the journal complete with maps of two floors, and a couple of stranger devices that he hadn't quite worked out yet. He was working under the assumption that they weren't fatal simply because there was no reason for them to be. He'd work out their actual purpose later. Ranulf was slightly off the mark with his reasoning. Just because they had been left alive so far didn't mean that they wouldn't be killed here later. It simply meant that killing them was not the institute's first priority. They had other things that they wanted to do with them first. Of course, with the recent shift in power, priorities had undoubtedly changed, although killing them all had certainly avoided becoming the primary objective. If it had, under a military operation, they would already be dead, down to a man.

So Soren wasn't overly concerned about being killed. As long as they fought well against the monsters, they ought to be fine. The institute wasn't aiming to kill them. He was confident about that. He wasn't as confident that what the institute was aiming to do wouldn't be worse, but it would be ridiculous dwelling on the thought without evidence one way or the other. Which was why they were going to do some exploring.

He brushed Ranulf in the doorway as he passed. "I don't suppose you considered that I was just as keen to check that our earlier encounter was real as much as this one. Forgive me for wanting to make certain that I wasn't giving away information to unreliable sources."

Ranulf surveyed Soren for a moment, wondering if he'd convinced the mage of his identity. His tail swished back and forth in anticipation, an involuntary habit that he'd had since he was barely tall enough to see over most bushes. Soren's question assured the laguz that he at least accepted him... for the time being. The inquiry also made him pause for a moment before answering.

"I... I haven't tried." he admitted.

He hadn't tried that entire week. Not even once. He knew that it was for the fear he'd lost it. If he had, that would be much harder to deal with than the fact he'd lost his ears and tail... he had them back now though... perhaps it would be good to test it out. Still... They had other things to dive into.

Soren's apology as he slid past him through the door and into the hallway satisfied him.

"I wouldn't expect any less of you, mage."

It was odd how Soren's negative attitude seemed to cut the tension between the two of them. Their contention, though detrimental, was familiar and something the both of them probably needed. It was easier for him to deal with Soren's repugnance, rather than the Head Doctor, the soldiers, or whatever lay await for them in the dark hallways of the Institute.

"You haven't tried," Soren repeated, frowning. Not even once? Ranulf wasn't the sort of person he'd expect that level of stupidity from. His transformation ability dramatically increased his fighting capabilities, and in a place like this, that could mean the difference between life and death. Unless, of course, that was what he was afraid of. A slight smirk slipped onto Soren's face. "I suggest you do so. It's difficult enough to form a strategy not knowing our enemy's capabilities without not knowing our own, either."

He tucked the journal under his arm, where he normally held his tome, and pulled the door closed with his free hand. "Come on. I suggest we get a move on. We ought to head outside if possible. Another group is exploring the basement, and I'd rather not get caught up in anybody else's business."

Seeing Soren's smirk caused Ranulf to display an embarrassed smile of his own. His statement was correct. It would be more tactical and imperative to know whether or not he could actively transform. He'd die before he admitted to the mage he was frightened of the outcome though.

After hesitating a moment, he was about to give in, when Soren suggested they get going. Happy for a change of subject, he closed his eyes and nodded, a small grin playing about his lips as he let out a tiny sigh of relief. They were in a hurry.

"I'll go in front. My eyesight will make our trip stealthier without a magic torch... er.. flashlight. You lead from behind, giving directions from the map."

He figured this was a good plan in general, but also might help lift Soren's unease. If Ranulf's back was constantly exposed to Soren, perhaps he could gain some trust.

"That's a sound enough plan." He wouldn't begrudge Ranulf that, much though his pride hated admitting it. At the end of the day, he could suffer more blows to his pride than he could his body. If Ranulf were willing to offer himself in front as a shield, then Soren wasn't about to argue.

He pulled the maps from his journal and gave them a quick glance over. M61. It didn't take too long to locate, given the block of small squares drawing attention to the left of the map. Soren ran his finger along various routes.

"We can either head north through the west wing into the recreational field, which gets us outside faster, or down the main hallway and eventually through the cafeteria to the courtyard. That route would take longer, with more doors to get through. It also involves passing through the sun room, which is quite exposed." He'd noticed the high ceiling, presumably level with that of the second floor. "On the other hand, moving outside leaves us even more exposed, and with less light. I know the shed in the recreational field has makeshift weapons that we could use. There's a shed marked out in the courtyard as well, but I don't know anything of its contents."

Buzz hadn't been here for very long, but even he'd been surprised by the whole turn of events today. First, the consumables battle, and then, the roll call, and after that, his conversation with that man in the Sun Room and the events that had come after it...

He hadn't been under Dr. Landel's iron fist long, but he'd still been surprised when he'd caught a glimpse of the man in person. He looked and sounded less menacing even than Al in his old chicken suit! And now, from the sounds of things, he'd been ousted. What a strange and unexpected turn of events!

But, as the shift wore on, Buzz realized that their new captors weren't any kinder than the old, even if they organized themselves more efficiently. Where the nurses had been proper and professional, these soldiers acted like true, blue army! He couldn't help but admire how diligently the privates and corporals – if he was reading their ranks right – carried out their duties, and he tried his best not to cause them any trouble as they escorted him down the hall... even though he had a few questions.

"Is General Aguilar your commander?"

No answer from his guards. He frowned as he jogged a little faster to stand near them.

"If he's the one in charge of this operation, I'd like to speak with him. Dr. Landel has been engaging in actions that surely can't be sanctioned by the military!"

Still no answer. Buzz sighed and dropped back to his previous position. They were probably just following orders, but it sure made things frustrating. He could only hope that the reason General Aguilar had discharged Landel from his duties was because he wanted to put an end to his malicious deeds

And maybe, if he was trying to right this facility's wrongs, he'd send Woody and Buzz back home... in their proper bodies..

Regardless of good intentions, though, they shoved Buzz into his room a little roughly, and Buzz blinked at the food on his allotted desk as they slammed the door behind him. He glanced toward his "Doctor" roommate; the fellow was passed out on his cot, and though Buzz didn't know why, he didn't want to bother him. He knew that humans needed sleep more than toys did, and considering how strange the nights were here, his roommate probably needed all the rest he could get.

And Buzz probably needed his food. It still felt extremely weird to gobble the stuff down, and Buzz found himself at a loss on how to tackle his spaghetti. Did you pick the strings out individually? It sure was hard to grab them up with a fork unless you rolled it into a ball, but how were you supposed to get that into your mouth? The way that Andy had used to slurp them up seemed to make sense, but Mom had always said that it was bad table manners.

But... then again, Buzz's squishy body needed the stuff, and the sauce sure smelled delicious. He dug into it clumsily and chowed down, and... by golly, did he enjoy it! The salad also tasted good even if that, too, he had trouble getting on his fork. He remembered that Andy had always picked out his croutons and left the rest, but he found himself enjoying all of it!

By the end of the meal, Buzz found himself experiencing a strange, pleasant sensation around his midsection, and he leaned back in his chair, feeling restful despite the circumstances.

Until he looked down at his shirt.

His eyes widened. There were red and white splotches everywhere, and as he touched his face, he realized the sauce and dressing had smeared there too!

He jumped to his feet and grabbed the napkins they'd left him off the table. He wiped the stuff off his face, then went for his shirt, but no matter how much he tried, he only seemed to make the stains go deeper instead of go away. Yet again, he wished he had his easy clean-up plastic back, and... oh, no – he was out of napkins!

He frowned, then turned toward the closet behind him. He narrowed his eyes. Maybe he could... change his attire?

The idea was intimidating, but he certainly didn't want to look like a slob to anyone he tried to help tonight. He opened his closet door just as the intercom turned on and pulled a shirt off a hangar as the voice began to speak.

He paused. This was the same electronic system they'd used earlier today – almost like the navigation voice in Mom's newest car, or – he winced at the thought – the standard computer system built into all Star Command spacecraft. And, like the Star Command computer, this one seemed to be referring to coded protocol numbers!

He rushed to pull off his current shirt, struggling with the way the cloth bunched around his underarms before he managed to yank it over his head. He stumbled backward and glanced down at himself, realizing that seeing a chest of human skin was even more unsettling than human clothing.

But he couldn't think of that right now. From the sound of things on the intercom, it sounded like the military personnel weren't trying to put an end to Landel's despotic reign, and he grit his teeth as he tried to get the new shirt over his head and onto his arms. It took him a few times, but, finally...

...There! He let out a breath and looked down at his handiwork, though for some reason, he couldn't see the smiley face on this one and there was some kind of scratchy tag on the front of his neck. Very strange, but... he couldn't worry about that now! It sounded like Aguilar and his minions had plans for tonight, and Buzz needed to make sure that they didn't get away with it easy!

He grabbed his flashlight from its usual spot under the pillow and strode to the door with purpose.

Then, he paused and glanced back at the sleeping figure on the other bed. Slowly, he eased the door open, slipped outside, and then gently closed it again.

[ To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1041335.html?thread=75977143#t75977143). ]

The Doctor had spent dinner laying on his bed, thinking things over. He vaguely noticed his roommate coming in, but he was so caught up that he didn't even greet the man.

But the change in the announcement from I.R.I.S. had caught the Doctor's attention, and all mentions of 'Project 2911' had only served to retain it. Not there were many hints in what was said before the doors unlocked for the night; something was obviously meant to happen tonight, and between that and Landel getting sacked this afternoon, there were obviously going to be changes coming in the next few days. It seemed this general fellow (Aguilar, they'd said?) was going to be the new head honcho.

He didn't rise from the bed until after Buzz had left, and the Doctor headed for the wardrobe to change into his suit and coat. He took a minute to make sure the contents of his pockets were in order—the sonic screwdriver was right where he'd left it, the gauze from Dean was in one pocket and the stethoscope he'd picked up wedged a little awkwardly into another—and then gathered his torch and notebook. He headed out into the hall.

[To here]

Edited 2011-02-18 07:08 (UTC)

HK had spent most of his day in a haze of sedatives, staring at a wall, trying to defragment his terribly inefficient meatbag brain, only being let out while restrained to return to his room in time for the end of the third refueling shift. As much as he detested it, he'd thought he might as well take advantage of the remaining effects of the sedatives to ingest some of the organic glop. Maybe while he still felt stupid, it would taste better.

Three minutes cured him of that impression, and most of the remaining effects of the drugs, thanks to a vigorous rant at the bare white walls. Ugh. There hadn't even been chocolate in any part of the meal! How was he supposed to survive under these conditions?!

As soon as the comms system went off, he remembered. By causing mayhem, as it was quite clear the effect of his work this morning was to speed the Head Meatbag's unceremonious departure! Nothing could make HK happier. Well, besides lots of things. But this would do for now.

The assassin droid collected his weapons, gleefully setting off into the night. Now, all he had to do was find some monster bait.

[To find some monster bait! (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1043381.html?thread=76049845#t76049845)]

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Night 54: M61-M70 Hallway

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Re: M61 (Finally! Sorry for the wait! <3)

Short tag because somebody's bought a NES. Priorities. Forgive me. <3

NES?! What games?! 8D Also, sorry for so late. <3 I love my Soren!

I was misinformed. =[ N64 for the moment, NES coming soon.

Oooooh I love N64. :3

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