damned_institute | 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.

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[from here]

The smell of charred flesh hung in the air; human, possibly. Lana's flashlight swept the area -- scorch marks there, and ash. A trail of it led to one of the lobby doors. On the other side, the handle of the file room door had been sheared away. Brute force, and not that much required, if a cursory examination from several yards away was any indication. Which it likely was; she hadn't been a top detective for nothing.

She flicked the beam it in a quick dip, towards the undamaged file room door, hoping Ilia would take the hint. No need to advertise that they were here more than they already had. They could check the desk on the way in; that would also give them a little cover if whatever had gone into the lobby came back out.

Some time to himself had helped more than Sam would have figured it would. After the woman with the looped hair had left, he had plopped himself down on the ground and let the coolness of the wall and the occasional gust of wind from the crack in the front doors soothe his burns - and his inner temperature. Maybe the rest didn't help much physically, but easing Sam's state of mind was about as good, all things considered.

That said, the nuclear man was still not exactly peaches and cream. No matter what kinds of breaks he got, this wasn't going to go away. He could wish it away all he wanted, sure, but he might as well be yelling at the sky for all the good it did. It was actually kind of funny, when he thought about it hard enough. This was all going to become routine eventually, wasn't it? As plain and mundane as brushing your teeth, driving to work, or making dinner. This was going to become the new normal, the pain and the fear and the rage all fading and blurring together for the rest of whatever his life. Rise and shine, Sam. Time to burn it all to the ground. He could almost hear Lisa saying it.

He couldn't help himself. As the door opened again, he started laughing. Laughing and snickering quietly in the shadowy corner. "All so normal," he said quietly, shaking his head in a jittery sort of way, burns crinkling around the edges of his eyes and the upturned corners of his mouth. "Normal is so relative. It's kind of amazing, in a way."

Ilia was a little surprised by Lana's sudden change in mood. She supposed she could blame that partially on Ema's frightening disappearance earlier in the night still bothering her, or maybe just being in the institute itself made Lana jumpy. Either way, Ilia took the snapping remark with a bit of humility. It was true that having some notes was probably better than leaving it up to memory, but Ilia had her training drilled into her. You didn't leave behind anything that could be traced back when on a mission, and she treated this place no different. Though there were a few rules she had thrown out, she still didn't feel comfortable compromising herself further by leaving behind something tangible.

The smell hit Ilia a second after getting past the door, and she stopped when the sound of laughter filled the air. Not good.

Ilia whispered, starting again at a brisk pace. She kept her hands to her sides, trying to give off an air of peacefulness. If they didn't threaten the thing or person or whatever, maybe they could get by without much notice. She didn't feel like having a fistfight in an area where a fire had just been, but she wouldn't back down if it came to blows.

She wanted to let Lana know that she was willing to buy the other woman time if it came to that, but she thought talking too much might just make them that much more of a target. She couldn't be sure, but whoever it was, whatever it was, sounded like they were going insane.

A dull clang rang out as Lana makeshift candlestick crowbar slid out of where she'd wedged it under the handle. The sound was shockingly loud, and in its wake, low laughter rolled in. Damn. There was someone standing in the shadows, and if that laugh was any indication, he was more apt to be the cause of the smell than the source of it.

Lana looked at the lock one last time, and jiggled the handle -- the tumblers were no looser. Brute force had never been Lana's strong suit. Ilia might have better luck with the door, but there was an easier solution.

"The other door is already open -- this one's jammed and Landel neglected to supply us with the appropriate tools for forcible entry." Lana spoke quickly and quietly, but in the same tone she'd have exchanged nonsense about the weather with a colleague. No sense tipping off whoever -- whatever was out there. She slipped past Ilia and strode across the room, hoping Ilia'd be right behind her.

Sam threw up his hands and let them fall limply. "Oh that's real nice," he said with a snort and another laugh. "Not even gonna pay attention to the man with third degree burns when he's talking. That's new at least. New heights of human compassion, no doubt about it."

The nuclear man shook his head, unstable grin still split across his face. "I don't blame you ladies, either of you, really. It's hard to make it in here without stopping to check on every dying person. You're in a hurry, you need to get things, you don't know who to trust. I get it. I get it so – so much."

A tension had been growing in Sam's chest as he went on, watching the women move from one door toward the other. The earlier parts of the night weren't going to give him peace of mind just yet, it seemed. He knew perfectly well they had good reason not to trust him at this point. Hell, Sam wouldn't trust himself at this point. But it still hurt to watch them move on without even bothering to glance over, or make a token attempt to acknowledge the suffering of someone who was still somewhat human. It was irrational, but really, what was rational with him anymore?

A pop cracked through the room, followed by a hiss and a strangled grunting groan from Sam. The tension inside him was just enough to spark a flare from his shoulder. The flame lit his corner of the room for less than a second, but it would have been enough to let the woman get a look at Sam's burned face if they were looking his way.

Ilia followed after Lana quickly, almost stepping on her heels in her haste to keep moving and not become the burning man's target. His words were a little hard to take, but he wasn't acting like a typical burn victim would. Crying, screaming, nothing of the sort. Almost like an acceptance of the situation, though she could hear an irritation also growing in his voice as they sped along by.

Reaching the other door, Ilia thought she caught a flicker of a flame in the corner of her eye. If there was still a fire going, then this entire area was unsafe! She didn't dare suggest they go back, though. There was nothing to go back to, except to a burn victim that didn't act like a burn victim. With luck, the file room they were heading into would have an exit out the back.

Lana didn't flinch when the tirade started; she'd heard it all, and worse, and all of it truer than he could know. His estimation was setting off warning bells in her finely-honed instincts; if this wasn't a prelude to an ambush she would be surprised, but it didn't mean his words hadn't struck a nrve.

Light flared: fire, out of nowhere. Lana looked the man -- if that was even what he was -- in they eye, ignoring the burn. What was it with nights and her and men with their faces burnt off, anyway? The flash of the fire was still blotting out that section of her vision with afterimages, but he wouldn't know that.

"My, my, what little faith in humanity. Sometimes all you have to do...is ask." She stepped through the door after Ilia, pulling it closed behind her.

[also to here]

Night 55: Entry Room

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SO SORRY FOR LATE GUYS!! D:

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