Nightshift 55: Sun Room

[scarletspeedstr.livejournal.com]

[from here]

Only a couple more rooms and then he was going to eat everything he laid eyes on in the pantry. Even the condiments, at this rate. How much nutritional value did tomato ketchup have anyway? And was he really in any position to turn it down if that was all he could find?

Even with the hunger twisting his stomach and making him feel slightly sick, Wally wasn't quite so bad off that he needed to just rush into the room beyond. His luck had been pretty good so far, well, apart from his speed dumping him into a wall like that, but that didn't mean a thing here.

But the sun room seemed empty, from what he could make out in the darkness and with only a flashlight that had seen better days, so Wally relaxed and headed further into the room, weaving through the chairs and things as he aimed for the cafeteria doors.

Comments

[deathandgin]

Knowing it was human wasn't exactly improving the situation. In fact, while he had a brief moment of human disgust, it only made him want to tear through the tape faster. The blood was coming from someone, and if those screams were any indication, it wasn't going well for them. There wasn't a lot of blood that he could see, but it was more than enough to be worried. The rate of leaking wasn't exactly a good indication, anyway. With how tight the door was taped, it could just be taking time for it to leak around the wood.

Alaric only moved out of the way for Damon for two reasons: 1) well, blood. Vampire. Easy equation there. And 2) there was still a chance the vampire was a bit stronger than him still. He didn't have the sense of urgency Rick had, of course, but he'd want to get through the trap door for his own desires.

Unfortunately, he didn't seem to get very far himself. Alaric had wiped the blood off on his pants, though it didn't help very much. Besides, Damon would still smell it. He always would.

Ugh. The teacher didn't hide his disgust at that particular gesture, especially since he knew it was deliberate. It was a lot harder to pretend Damon was just sipping on thick wine when it wasn't in a tumbler. Not that he was stupid. He didn't ignore that part of Damon. It was just easier to deal with when he didn't have to be a witness to the whole blood drinking thing. Damon was also flamboyant about it, trying to shove it in his face.

It worked. He was annoyed and confused and wanted to get out of this damn room and actually help someone for the first time in a long time. He wouldn't have been above pushing the vampire out of his way if he hadn't stepped back off the boxes. Whether or not it was working, he was going to keep working on the tape. If only they'd gotten the knives before this -

"You know the answer. You can stay here if you're just going to end up making it worse."

[deathrattling.livejournal.com]

[[Wally is in the house your faces!! (from the thread above)]]

The tape stuck stubbornly despite the efforts of both man and vampire, the blood seeping through it first cold, then abruptly warmer. Fresher. The sounds from above grew clearer and sharper, as if a thick veil were being drawn away from between them --

And then finally the tape in Alaric's hands shredded apart and the wood of the trapdoor itself splintered with impact, Wally's body hitting it as Kayako's hands still buried in his mouth yanked him down by the jaw. The man smashed through the flimsy wood headfirst, body contorted by forces invisible to Alaric or Damon despite the lock of her eyes on his for a long moment.

But as he thudded into the boxes below the scene changed, and the physical manifestation of her broken body had melded away into the oppression of rage complicating the air in the room below. The light wavered, darkening as if the sun was setting behind thick clouds, and the hair that had been wrapped around Wally until mere moments ago had disappeared -- replaced instead by thick plastic sheeting, liberally spattered with blood and obstructing his movement. Another blink, and Wally would see her no longer, her death-pale face replaced with the occupants of the grey-lit room.

[scarletspeedstr.livejournal.com]

The second scream the woman tore from him was no less pained, for all that his jaw was dislocated and not broken, and for a wild moment, Wally wondered if she planned to break every bone one by one while he was bound and powerless to do anything to stop her. His thoughts were so messed up by the pain and shock that at first he thought the splintering sound was something else being done to him, his body not yet recovered enough to feel it, but then he was falling and it must have been the trapdoor or the ceiling itself that broke underneath him because he slammed into something solid a second later.

The impact jolted through him, pain like knives in his arm and jaw from it, and Wally thought he might have blacked out for a couple of seconds because the horrifying corpse-like woman was gone and he was staring up at the hole he'd fallen through.

But something was still holding him still and there was something nearby, and Wally was really in absolutely no condition to try fighting anything or anyone. He had to get free and away from here, he decided frantically, kicking out at whatever was wound around his body as tightly as the hair had been, before the adrenaline burst the fall had supplied wore off and he fainted.

[saviored]

Having successfully pissed off Rick (he was so easy sometimes. All of the time), Damon let it go with a quirk of his lips. He took the flashlight as Alaric hopped back onto the makeshift box stool. Might as well give the teacher both of his hands if they were gonna do this at all. Besides:

"That falls and breaks, you're on your own," he said pointedly. He wasn't about to play vampire guide dog to the visually challenged just because Rick apparently suffered from a deficiency when it came to keeping useful objects in his hand.

His fingers drummed against the flashlight as he stepped back and shined it at the attic door. The bloodstain was spreading, noticeably, getting thicker and darker, the metallic smell sharper. Yeah, probably for the best Alaric was the one up there. It was distracting, a constant tug on his attention. Heat rushed behind his eyes. He didn't push it aside right away (why should he?), instead letting himself just feel it for a moment or two. He ran his tongue along his teeth and glanced over his shoulder into the room. Still empty? Still empty.

The attic, on the other hand....Seriously, what the hell was up there?

"Don't lie, you love it when things screw up so you can play the badass." He switched the flashlight to his left hand. "I would never deny you th—"

He heard the crack and the straining tape a split second before the entire damn thing collapsed in. On top of Alaric, no less. Was he gonna break own his neck again? Because that would be the ultimate cherry on top. And was all that shit—wait, was that hair or—no, he was seeing things now. Figured. Where did—?

He spun on his heel, searching the area for any hint of a remaining threat, but there was nothing and it was rapidly getting darker again. He threw up a hand in exasperation. It wasn't until he turned his attention to all the blood that the face on the body clicked, even distorted by the serial killer approved plastic.

"I know this guy." He cocked his head. That blood, not all of it was human or fresh. Some of it was...different. Decidedly unappetizing, too, which helped a little in suppressing his lurking need to take a bite. The thought that he was a hunter, not a damn scavenger took care of the rest.

[deathandgin]

There wasn't much preparation to be done while he was looking up in time to see the trap door splinter right above his head, so he took the brunt of the force of the - whatever's fall with his back slamming against the floor after he made a surprised yelp. It was no surprise that a hot splash of pain spasmed out of his spine; the real surprise that he hadn't magically died upon impact this time. Poisoned food or not, he wasn't really holding any high standards for what his luck normally was.

It also didn't help that the thing that had landed on him was heavy as hell and managed to nearly kick him in the face. Add a moment of complete disorientation, the pain, and Damon's complete inability to be helpful whenever it counted - and that left a thirty something teacher stuck on the floor until the pain had subsided enough he could drag himself out from under the -

Body. Oh, shit.

It took a few grunts of annoyance to untangle himself, but Alaric was as quick about it as he could manage. He was ignoring the blood, considering what mattered now was that someone was trapped in that plastic and they had stopped moving. (Suffocation? Pain? Already dead? Shit, shit, shit.)

"This is a total mess," he said, just for something to say. For the second time he wished for a knife as he took a position next to the - guy? - and began pulling at the plastic. Damon's lack of reaction wasn't exactly a surprise, and it was irrelevant whether he knew him or not. Unlike the tape, the plastic wasn't so tightly wound and it came apart as long as he attacked it with enough tenacity. Alaric only looked up from his work once, just to make sure there wasn't anything too damn enticing about all the blood for Damon.

And because he was annoyed that only one of them actually cared about the bleeding body, but what could he really expect? "Look, at least drop the damn light and help for a second before he suffocates!"

[deathrattling.livejournal.com]

As the patients remained caught up in the mystery of what their eyes read in front of them, was that the ceiling above them was slowly unravelling: the darkness of the room resuming the completeness of night as the rectangle of light on the floor blinked shut, leaving the place in a greyness that was rapidly turning black. Even as Wally and Alaric struggled against the plastic the depth of the shadow changed, plain ceiling coming to life in a woven mass of hair.

The window, too, spun apart like torn cloth, wood grain rent into splinters that in turn lengthened and softened into more hair. What little light remained vanished entirely with a thick sweep of hair across the glass, blocking it from view and flooding the room with complete darkness even as the patients were finally able to remove the plastic from Wally's body.

But the ominous darkness heralded not the beginning of more terror but something rather more innocuous: the floor under their feet blurred into the carpet of the sun room again, shifting in a blink from bloodstained wood to comfortable pile. The black of the walls receded as if curtains were being drawn -- if those curtains were made entirely of hair -- and slowly revealed the Institute as they knew it. Moonlight swept through the room, illuminating chairs knocked over and crumpled bulletin board notes crumpled scattered throughout despite the lack of wind.

The coast was clear -- for now. Faint traces of the death-rattle sounded from the corners of the room, not yet moving closer, but doing nothing to reduce the heavy weight of anger still soaking the air.

[saviored]

Something was lingering, something he couldn't see or hear, and the fact that Damon couldn't identify it was driving him crazy. And wait.

What? No. Forget it. They were not carting someone around for the night. If the guy wasn't dead already, then he would be soon. Damon saw no reason why they should be wasting their time and more than that, if he was attracted by the blood, plenty of other things would be, too. The list of people he'd lend a hand to keep in one piece extended as far as Rick and no further.

On the other side of the equation, Alaric would probably have to be physically pried away, it'd be a whole big thing, and in the end, faster if he went along. Or he could just, you know, leave Rick behind to play good Samaritan to his heart's content until something came along and ripped it out.

Oh, for Christ's sake.

He rolled his eyes and bent down, pulling at the plastic (what the hell was Wally wearing?) as he felt blood coat his fingers. Total mess was an understatement. No need for a gentle touch. His main concern was getting the guy untangled so they could get out and he could put some distance between all this blood. Whatever. It wasn't as if Wally could feel anything. Here was a tip: if you were going to rescue someone, do it when they were passed out. Less hassle all around.

Barely half a minute in, the air shifted. Damon glanced over his shoulder. What, this again?

Never mind. He turned back to what he was doing, keeping an eye out for anything more than another scenery swap. However the hell it was happening. He didn't know and he couldn't care less; they were back in the Sun Room and that was all that mattered. The rest could wait.

Eventually, the plastic gave way completely. Yeah, that didn't take more time than they had.

He pushed to his feet, flashlight in hand. Look, normally he'd be fine with hauling the guy himself, but his leg could only just handle his own weight right now and there was no way spending a single minute more up close and personal with that much fresh blood was gonna lead to anything good.

Alaric would understand, he was sure. If not, really wasn't his problem.

"Grab him and let's go."

[deathandgin]

Damn if he wasn't surprised that Damon did actually up and help - the history teacher wasn't stupid enough to think he knew Damon, but this one was... less predictable. Apparently a month's worth of time changed a lot. He was even smart enough to keep any kind of thanks to himself. Even if it wasn't exactly for his own benefit, he sure appreciated some sort of stability when the damn room decided to transform. He glanced up periodically from his work to spy what looked like hair sliding across the window before it blacked it out completely, eventually melting away to the Sun Room's large, lit windows. The plastic fell completely from the man's body once moonlight streamed into the room again.

All right. Time to get the hell out of dodge.

Alaric simply nodded at the vampire's order, hooking wet, slippery hands under the guy's arms. Good thing he's unconscious. This was going to hurt like hell considering what looked like a broken arm. He didn't have a lick of medical training, but moving someone after that catastrophe probably was the worst possible thing to do. Whoever this guy was... was going to regret waking up. (If he did. Alaric really hoped he did.) Partly because a very small, detached part of him was curious about the suit. Seriously?

Priorities, Rick.

[To here.]