The Scarecrow of Oz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scarefaux) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-04-06 12:22 pm
scarefaux) wrote in damned_institute2011-04-06 12:22 pm
Entry tags:
Night 55: Entry Room
[From here.]
Even with the change in staff, the Entry Room looked the same as it did during his first nighttime visit, save for the lack of Mele and her conjured fire. Oh, thinking about her brought back a twinge of guilt- knowing how the town was at night, she surely wouldn't approve of his heading there, even if he was in good company. Well, he couldn't sit in his room forever, and there was no guarantee the rooms were safe- after all, that was where the nurses collected people for the Sleep Studies. Besides that, he'd not been outside of the Institute's walls at night on his own volition. It was high time he changed that.
He frowned to himself in the darkness. Now that he had his body, what would he do with his time at night? He was still no closer to rescuing Dorothy or any of his friends from Wizard Landel's brainwashing, and the General had hinted that things would only get harder from there on out. He knew they had to be stopped, but how? And what could he do? He wasn't a fighter like Depth Charge, or a witch like Mele; he was not a doctor or professional or even someone with a working brain. The fact that he was seemingly useless was what grated on him the most. However, if there was anything the Scarecrow knew, it was that he couldn't give in. Even if it took him forever, he'd think of something. He had to!
The Scarecrow swept the room with his light before heading in, trailing along the wall for safety's sake. "So you've been to town at night?" he asked. "Aside from the time we were left there?" There was also the time the doors were enchanted, but there was a chance not everyone had ended up there that night.
Even with the change in staff, the Entry Room looked the same as it did during his first nighttime visit, save for the lack of Mele and her conjured fire. Oh, thinking about her brought back a twinge of guilt- knowing how the town was at night, she surely wouldn't approve of his heading there, even if he was in good company. Well, he couldn't sit in his room forever, and there was no guarantee the rooms were safe- after all, that was where the nurses collected people for the Sleep Studies. Besides that, he'd not been outside of the Institute's walls at night on his own volition. It was high time he changed that.
He frowned to himself in the darkness. Now that he had his body, what would he do with his time at night? He was still no closer to rescuing Dorothy or any of his friends from Wizard Landel's brainwashing, and the General had hinted that things would only get harder from there on out. He knew they had to be stopped, but how? And what could he do? He wasn't a fighter like Depth Charge, or a witch like Mele; he was not a doctor or professional or even someone with a working brain. The fact that he was seemingly useless was what grated on him the most. However, if there was anything the Scarecrow knew, it was that he couldn't give in. Even if it took him forever, he'd think of something. He had to!
The Scarecrow swept the room with his light before heading in, trailing along the wall for safety's sake. "So you've been to town at night?" he asked. "Aside from the time we were left there?" There was also the time the doors were enchanted, but there was a chance not everyone had ended up there that night.
no subject
Also he was attacking Carter's new friend. That wasn't good. As the robot ran at him Carter ran after it, crowbar raised to strike. The head looked like a pretty good target, he could smash its robot brain and stop the rest of it from moving.
After all, it was just a robot. You couldn't kill a machine. You could just break it.
no subject
First was a painful sensation (and he was sure it was pain this time), then his right arm burst into flames. Fire! But how? He was fairly sure that human bodies didn't burn the same way one made of straw would, but there really wasn't time to dwell on it when the blaze was crawling along his lower arm. It was one thing to be unfeeling, knowing his body was burning but only because he saw it doing so; it was something else- something far more terrifying- to be able to feel the flames eating through him.
After that, there was unbridled panic. "I'm on fire!" the Scarecrow shouted, pulling away from the conjurer as he flailed. "Help, I'm on fire!"
no subject
Sam was stunned big time, and with the loss of control over himself and his motor functions, he thus could not control what the stress and anger were bringing out in his body. Sam breathed hard and coughed, trying to fight the burning as he tasted blood in the back of his throat, but he couldn't. He let loose a room-shattering cry then as his fire blazed brightly from both hands and his torso, shooting out from his sleeves and the collar of his shirt. His attacker wasn't likely to be singed from that angle, but damned if he wasn't going to be scarred by the sight of melting, sizzling flesh, unless he had a particularly strong stomach.
no subject
"Roll on the ground! You have to smother it!" he called out, running over to try and help Frank put himself out. He'd been so concerned about hitting the robot that he'd totally forgotten about its laser eyes.
Carter tried to get Frank down and slapped at the flames on his arm, far less concerned than his friend. He was a brilliant demolitions man but he was also kind of an airhead, which led to many instances of 'wait, did that say -ene or -ane on the bottle?' or sticking his cuff into a bunsen burner. Compared to evil robots putting out a self-immolation was a relatively soothing task.
He didn't notice the black-clad being's meltdown until he was overwhelmed by a horrible, yet depressingly familiar scent. That wasn't the smell of metal and oil on fire. Burning metal was sharper on the nose and Carter actually enjoyed it, since it meant he'd done his job right. This smell was acrid, slightly sweet yet nauseating, and one that Carter had only found in brief moments before he'd turned his face away from the destruction he'd wrought and fled off into the darkness.
It was the smell of burning flesh.
Carter stared and felt a growing wave of sickness well up inside him as he watched the robot...the man...burn himself down like the end of an old candle. What was happening, what was this person? What had he done?
no subject
There was a sudden moment of clarity for the Scarecrow as the horrible smell filling the room was gone, the pain in his arm no longer noticeable, even though it was clearly still ablaze. He blinked- the clever little thing! It was odd to think of something that robbed him of his senses as useful, but it had chosen to activate at just the right moment. The Burning Man was down- now was their chance to make a break for the door!
The Scarecrow leapt to his feet, giving Carter's arm a tug. "Let's go!" After a short sprint around what was left of the Burning Man, he reached the door, giving the knob a try. "Drat! Locked!" Unlike the ones in the hallways, a few hurried hits to the lock with his flashlight got no results. The entrance was clearly made of tougher stuff.
Worried their attacker might recover at any second, the Scarecrow headed for one of the exits to the side. "Come on! This way!"
[To here.]