Night 56: Entry Room

[thestormishere]

[ From here. ]

Deserted.

Regardless, Lightning took several steps into the large room, looking about and listening intently. Most importantly though, she was also trying to get a feel for the air there. She remembered quite clearly how it had seemed her first and second nights, how someone else going through ahead of her had caused the oppressive air inside to be stirred slightly, and figured that would be the best way for her to tell if anyone had already beat her out the door.

However, that didn't seem to be the case here, and as far as she could tell without walking all the way over to it, the entrance at the other end of the room hadn't yet been opened. Taking a hasty step backward, Lightning was quick to retrace where she'd come from as soon as she was sure of the possibility being struck out--

And then the sound of static from the radio trapped in her jacket, harsh and almost deafeningly loud in the darkened silence, nearly caused the already wound-tight l'Cie a heart attack then and there. Pressing her lips together in annoyance, she moved to retrieve the thing, immediately recognizing the first voice and then...

... That was-- was that the 'head doctor?'

Now almost outright scrambling, she quickly lifted the radio to not far from her face, first bending her head so that pieces of her pale hair fell forward as she listened, then promptly shaking it back, turning her back to the wall and leaning there, determined to keep an eye on her surroundings at the same time despite her surprise.

Much of the message went right over the ex-soldier's head still, but... they were working together- not even a child could miss that. Shaking her head in disgust, she started putting the noisy device back in the jacket pocket almost before the broadcast had come to an end.

Comments

[threepwood]

[From here.]

On three, Guybrush pushed the door open, pulling the sword from his sash and stepping into the room with a dramatic flair, ready to strike anything waiting for them on the other side. Switching his flashlight to his hook, he swept the area around them. Nothing to the left, or right, or even as far as the light reached in front of them.

After a moment's pause, Guybrush took a few steps into the room, the beam of his flashlight finally hitting the far wall and the door that awaited them there. "You know," he said, trying to keep the surprise and disappointment from his voice, "with as much trouble as they make it to get anywhere else in this place, I kind of thought the front door would be at least be guarded."

[melodists.livejournal.com]

The man perhaps had spoken too soon. Not a beat had passed before a figure emerged from the shadows, her strides slow and distinct enough to offer sufficient warning to the occupants. Death was not Tear's goal for the night; the risk of it had already exceeded expectations the moment the miasma seeped into the grounds. Killing to protect patients from a certain end was a counterproductive measure. No order could express the need as eloquently as her own logic.

Still, the problem persisted. No one could go outside. If they did, they would bring the pain of death to both themselves and everyone else. The fact that a woman had already lingered too long in the entryway had proven difficult to ignore, but Tear had done so in hopes of avoiding unnecessary conflict. The fact that a few more had appeared and now expressed a potential need to progress, however, was impossible to set aside.

So what does one do in a situation when death was a restricted path? The Melodist had her methods.

She stopped several feet from the new group, the faint light revealing the outline of both guard and her weapon. One might have worried about the presence of swords when she carried a simple magician's staff. In truth, the soldier had nothing of concern. When one could dismember monsters with the aforementioned weapon, swords were merely factors to contend with. Factors she could do away with if necessary.

"I apologize," spoke Tear, voice lingering between regret and hard steel, "but I will have to ask you to turn back. This is a restricted area."

[fangirlfatale.livejournal.com]

"Three!" Morgan burst into the room a step behind Guybrush with the Blade of Still-in-Need-of-a-Name at the ready. At first his light didn't turn up anything, but while Guybrush was complaining about the lack of guards, Morgan was sizing up the figure that had just stepped out of the shadows. A woman--actually, more like a kid, with an overdecorated stick as a weapon and her hair in her face. Slicing and dicing teenagers' innards was not the kind of work Morgan enjoyed, but if this girl thought she was gonna stand in their way, the pirate hunter had no problem with teaching her a pointed lesson or two.

She did have to wonder, though--where the heck were the guys with the guns? This wasn't much of a security force: two of the best swordfighters in the Caribbean against a girl with a stick. Even though she clearly had no idea what she was up against, Morgan kind of had to admire her bravery. But that didn't mean she was going to go easy on her. She just hoped Guybrush didn't decide to get all talky on them.

"We're going through that door one way or another," she said forcefully, brandishing her sword. "You want us to turn back? Make us."

[threepwood]

Guybrush raised his sword and an eyebrow as they were approached, looking the woman over. Okay, so he missed a spot in the room; his powers of observation weren't as sharp as they used to be. Probably all the routine days of relaxation and rehabilitation, and the time spent running to various rooms and away from monsters at night. She had guts to approach two people armed with swords with only a stick, but he had the feeling she probably didn't have a choice in the matter: she wasn't a nurse or a soldier, so that left her being either one of Landel's monsters or a brainwashed patient. The latter seemed like the best bet.

As usual, Morgan went right to work with her way of doing things. Guybrush had to admit that his conversational method hadn't gotten them far in the past, so a change in tactics was worth a shot. "And believe me," he chimed in, lowering his sword slightly, "you don't want to make us do anything. Especially Morgan, here. She'll use that sword to slice off an extremity without even throwing an insult at you first. I would know." He held up his hook and gave it a wag for extra effect.

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Two braggarts with swords proved enough to add irritation to determination, but Tear was not about to overlook their words. She may as well be facing two veteran warriors who could throw their weight around in battle. If the situation was not what it was, the Melodist might have offered a compromise; they seemed entirely intent on going somewhere, after all. That, however, was risking their lives as well as the lives of others. Did they really want to do something so utterly foolish?

"You realize that going outside will be placing everyone here in danger?" she returned. The grip on the staff tightened. "Wait for the miasma to subside. Until then, I cannot allow you to pass under any circumstances. This is your final warning." Their intentions were grossly overshadowed by the scenario. If the pair wanted to force themselves through and risk the entire patient populace, Tear would do everything to stop them.

[fangirlfatale.livejournal.com]

Morgan almost pointed out that at least she'd tried to get his sliced-off extremity back, but now wasn't the time. "What?" she demanded. Miasma? Placing everyone here in danger? Yeah, okay. There was a slim chance this girl knew something they didn't, but if Morgan's money hadn't been stolen by a loony kidnapper masquerading as a mental health professional, it would have been on "whackjob." The air out there was fine.

"I don't know what this 'miasma'"--cue the air quotes with her non-sword hand--"stuff is, but I do know that you're still standing between us and the door. And that makes getting you out of my way just one more thing on my to-do list. En garde!"

With that, Morgan slashed her sword out in what was intended to be a sharp downward arc just a hair to the girl's right. Since she wasn't going for the kill here, the move was mostly designed to get their opponent to start moving (not to mention that the best defense was a good offense). Clearing the path would keep their options open. Morgan might not have superhuman voodoo powers like LeChuck, but someone used to fighting would probably recognize agility and an experienced sword arm as the bite that backed up her bark.

She still wasn't expecting much of a challenge, but at least her sword was doing something other than getting rusty--a nice change of pace for this place, in Morgan's book.

[melodists.livejournal.com]

[It is timeskip time.]

Another's presence could be a calming effect in an emergency. In this particular situation, however, the woman was seen as nothing more than a hindrance, an obstacle to observe until it became too much. Tear had the choice of force--had, in fact, been given the approval to do so--but nothing in her wanted to agitate an already desperate scenario. The woman had to leave, true, but it did not mean an agreement could be reached.

The Melodist kept to the shadows for a moment, her mind running over her options. In the end, she stepped forward, weapon at rest and in clear view. A confrontation was always a possibility, but the teenager wanted to convey her preference for talk. Inciting the woman to violence was an unintelligent course of action.

"Excuse me," she called out. "I need to ask you to leave."

[thestormishere]

And right when Lightning had nearly gotten her thoughts all back in order, yet another surprise appeared, swiftly throwing them all into disarray yet again: the voice of a young woman, asking... what?

Well, needless to say, Lightning wasn't exactly in a friendly mood, and as she lifted her light to shine on the newcomer, the former soldier's mind went immediately to trick, in the vein of the shadowy apparition that had taunted her so cruelly several nights before. Lightning was sure she'd never seen this person before, though- in an instant she'd taken in the girl's odd attire, the strange weapon in her hand...

"Who are you?" she asked warily, her voice quiet but harsh, movements smooth as she settled immediately into a readier stance. The grip on the woefully-inadequate sword in her own hand was tightened, the weapon making a slow arc through the air by her side. She'd been through here twice before without challenge and she didn't like this at all - just what was going on?

[melodists.livejournal.com]

The light-haired woman was alarmed but not panicked. Cautious but far from reactionary. The chance she would attack haphazardly was slim. Therefore, Tear kept to speech, in hopes the other would do the same. No reason existed for either to get into a confrontation, especially when the soldier refused to lose to anything.

"Locrian Sergeant Tear Grants. 1st Platoon, Oracle Knights Intelligence Division," she answered, stating off name and rank without skipping a beat. "I've been stationed here to keep civilians from leaving the institute due to the miasma problem outside. It's very important that you stay away from all entrances." Hopefully, that should make the reason for her request glaringly apparent.

[thestormishere]

Lightning's eyes narrowed at the response, rankled in a way this 'Locrian Sergeant' probably hadn't even intended at all. She may have given up her own military rank back during the Purge, but she was still not a civilian by any means. After days of being a prisoner, it was an odd distinction to stick so close by, but all the same one Lightning was not at all ready to give up on yet.

If anything else, the warning just made the woman wonder even harder about what might be outside at the moment. 'Miasma' wasn't a word she was unfamiliar with, though whatever might be described as a 'miasma problem' beyond that darkened front door escaped her.

The l'Cie's eyes narrowed. It didn't make sense, and yet-- she didn't have time to be messing around right now! With a nearly imperceptible start, she glanced towards the door back into the interior of the building, realizing belatedly that aside from wasting time interacting with this strange girl, she'd also been doing so already when she'd paused to listen to the radio's newest message.

"Who put you in charge?" she demanded quickly, already noticeably antsy about getting a move-on. As annoying as the request was, she had no intention of defying it unless there was explicit reason to- namely, Hope's welfare. "Has anyone else been through here?"

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Tear could sigh at the reaction. People honestly needed to control their emotions, especially when it came to an emergency such as tonight's. At least the other had yet to lash out at her with brute force and instead, had asked questions.

Questions, Tear found, were far more easier to deal with in this case.

"That is classified information, I'm afraid," she answered, unchanged in expression. "And no, you're the first to come here." How fortunate. If the number of visitors did not increase, perhaps she could call this mission a success.

[nonheinous.livejournal.com]

Ted pushed open the doors, bracing himself for any sudden monster attacks There had been no sign of them outside the door, but there could still be some lurking about, waiting to eat him and Tolten for dinner. Ted didn't think they tasted that good, and that partaking of their flesh would just lead to some unrighteous tummyaches - not to mention that it was way too late for dinner - but he had no idea how actual monsters thought.

But the doors opened with no event. Ted shone the flashlight in, squinting into the shadows.

He shrugged. "Looks safe, dude," he said.

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

Tolten peered over Ted's shoulder, searching the darkness for some sign of danger. But there appeared to be nothing, and the young king let out a small sigh of relief. So far no true danger had presented itself.

"You know..." he ventured, keeping a firm grip on his torch, "I've only ever known one other person who uses that word." And he wasn't even sure what it mean, other than some sort of synonym for 'man' which Tolten didn't know the connotations to. It was somewhat comforting, but mostly it was something distracting.

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Another pair entered the entryway, albeit Tear was grateful they appeared significantly less aggressive than the first. Since their movements were neutral, she opted for the formal approach. Here again was the hope they would take her advice and not push for her force.

Once again, she stepped away from the shadows, her weapon at rest. Despite the affable front, the young woman seemed unmovable in her stance. "I'm sorry, but this area is restricted. I will have to ask you to leave."

[nonheinous.livejournal.com]

Ted jumped at the appearance of the young woman, a little startled at the sudden voice. But she looked harmless enough, and kind of cute. He beamed at her. "We're totally trying to leave this place," he assured her. "That's why we're here! Is there a way out?"

He noticed the weapon. That was a nice looking stick, he thought with appreciation.

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

Something was...odd. Tolten hung behind Ted, wetting his lips nervously. Who was this woman? Why was this area restricted? And if it was so restricted, how had the two of them simply ended up there?

It didn't escape his notice that the woman was armed. She'd made no overt threats with her weapon, but...well... it was possible. It was also possible that she could escort them out of here. That seemed to be what Ted was hoping, and Tolten didn't blame him. If they could just get beyond the building and to something familiar....

[propheteer]

[From here, and time warp?]

It seemed quiet in here, and Izaya wasted no time in heading for the same drawer he'd acquired his previous paperclips-turned-lockpicks from. He would let Castiel use the ones he'd already bent into shape tonight, but a few more paperclips as backup in case those were to become lost would hardly hurt.

"Have you ever tried to pick a lock before, Castiel?" he asked as he rifled through the drawer. "You said you had 'no knowledge' of how, but not that you hadn't tried."

[freewill]

Right, the paperclips. Castiel watched as Orihara moved toward the desk that held them, taking a moment to glance around the room and make certain that there were no dangers. It seemed to be clear, but he couldn't help but get the feeling that it hadn't been so earlier in the night. His senses were too dulled to know more than that, but it would be wise to take care while here.

As he moved closer to the human, he took in his question and then shook his head. "I've never had reason to before this point," he said, hoping that Orihara wouldn't want a more detailed explanation than that.

Granted, the young man already knew about how Castiel could move around. He could likely deduce on his own why he'd never needed to pick a lock until now.

"I wonder if it would be possible to find better tools in the future," he commented as he glanced down at the paperclips.

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, a simple task was never so simple. Most had been reasonable in regards to her requests, but it seemed that the more entered, the more 'eccentric' they grew to be. It was one thing to come into the entryway on an innocent expedition; it was entirely another to rifle through possessions, talking openly about picking locks. The men at least appeared not to be interested in the front door, but that could be the end result of their task. And after she had let one pair slip through her grasp, Tear was not about to let this go so easily.

The Melodist quietly stepped forward from her position in the shadows, her eyebrow arching in veiled annoyance. Most probably wouldn't have expected her to appear in such a manner; Tear occasionally had the habit of sneaking in at the least opportune moment. "Excuse me," she called out. "May I ask what you two are doing?"

[propheteer]

It only took Izaya a moment to make the necessary connections: with his ability to teleport, there would have (formerly) been little need for Castiel to take his time getting past locked doors—and anyway, a law-abiding citizen (if he was one) could often live his whole life without seeing a need.

Izaya picked a few extra paperclips out from the drawer for good measure, sliding them into his pocket. "Better tools would be preferable," he commented, pushing the drawer shut. "These are adequate, but far from perfect. I would much rather teach you with proper picks."

But just as he was about to turn towards the door and suggest they get started, Izaya was caught by surprise when there came a woman's voice (and presumably the woman it belonged to). The question sounded polite enough, but the suddenness of it was something else. He hadn't noticed anyone coming in behind them, so had she been here the whole time?

"Nothing important," he responded innocently—even though he hadn't actually answered anything at all.

[freewill]

The next logical question was if there was any chance of finding proper picks in the building somewhere, though Castiel realized that the likelihood of that was not very good. It was a question that seemed better posed to Dean, seeing how it seemed that the man had been here for quite a bit longer than himself or Orihara.

Granted, their conversation couldn't go much further, seeing how they were suddenly approached by a young woman in unfamiliar dress. Castiel stared at her for a moment, wondering how she had entered the room without him noticing. He had searched all corners of it rather carefully, hadn't he?

Orihara's answer only made them look more suspicious, and so Castiel decided to take a different approach with the young woman.

"Did you need anything?" he asked. She was on her own, after all, and it was possible that she was also looking for a way out.

[mateswithnobody.livejournal.com]

Donna shrugged as she led the boy to the right and into the next room, which wasn't a hallway. "It changes. Sometimes there's a lot of us running around, and other times there's only a handful. It might actually depend on who's in charge though... there's been some command changing going on." Again Donna twirled a finger up a the ceiling.

If Luke was getting anything from his conversations with her, it had to be that she could not have cared less for the place and those that ran it. And that she had no problem leading on with all the confidence in the world, expecting that he would follow. If he fell behind, it was his own fault.

[mateswithnobody.livejournal.com]

Donna shrugged as she led the boy to the right and into the next room, which wasn't a hallway. "It changes. Sometimes there's a lot of us running around, and other times there's only a handful. It might actually depend on who's in charge though... there's been some command changing going on." Again Donna twirled a finger up a the ceiling.

If Luke was getting anything from his conversations with her, it had to be that she could not have cared less for the place and those that ran it. And that she had no problem leading on with all the confidence in the world, expecting that he would follow. If he fell behind, it was his own fault.

"As for getting out..." her tone perked in mock amusement as she paused to turn back, "You should probably get comfortable because no matter where you go either inside or out of this place, you'll find yourself staring at the ceiling of you room come sunrise. Bright and shiny morning," she added with a quick wave of her torch at his face for emphasis.

[36-24-35.livejournal.com]

Tifa immediately felt bad about her decision. Thankfully, no one had been in the entry way, but there very likely could have been. The idea of wounding a fellow patient weighed on her mind as she slowly walked to the nearest door in the well lit room. She had forgotten to turn odd the car, but alas. Maybe the tank would rupture and put a nice hole in the infrastructure. A terrorist mindset, no matter how former, was hard to shake off.

With her bottles held tightly against her chest and the nasty arm set on top, she wiggled her way to an opened door.

[melodists.livejournal.com]

Thanks to good fortune, Tear was nowhere near the door when it practically exploded, the space taken up by a giant fontech. At least, that was the conclusion she reached when the Melodist finally emerged from the spot behind the desk, blue eyes wide in complete astonishment. What in the world? More importantly, what was that thing? It was a fontech, yes, but a fontech in the shape of a metal carriage was quite unheard of. Were they meant to barge into entrances? Did any of this make a whit of sense?

Probably not.

When its front glass shattered and a woman emerged from the interior with a few bottles, Tear could only stare, a silent witness to complete inanity. Though the needles and the chemicals had done well to alter her perception, they stood no chance against the illogical. For a brief, dumbfounded moment, the girl forgot her mission, the miasma, the fact of returned powers and Pow Hammers. Men and their idiocy. All that resided in her mind was the juxtaposition of the entryway and the vehicle as well as the figure staggering toward the exit.

And everything hurt.