damned_institute | Night 57: Main Hallway, 1-East

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Night 57: Main Hallway, 1-East

[from here]

As far as Riku knew—which wasn't a reliable piece of information in the least—this was approaching new territory for him. It was the first time he tempted fate by going somewhere without one of his friends since he first woke up in this place. If it wasn't Sora or Kairi that was there with him, it was Naminé; to some degree, each one had been there for him on the various nights that passed. Before, it hadn't been a guarantee for success; maybe part of the concern was that there were too many feelings involved. When he worked before, cloaked with the blindfold that hid his worries and fears, he was weighed down by the need to do something for his friends, if not their actual presences.

It was a thought that he needed to stall immediately. That was agreeing with the Shadow, after all. Then again, that Shadow wouldn't have expected him to have gained one still unknown comrade for the night. His impression of this guy wasn't fully made up yet, but it was getting there fast. Even if he had a gun and he was young—which, for anyone else, might actually make them stall, but Riku had been promised heroic adventures at the age of five by a stranger with brown hair—he still had a head on his shoulder and an obviously distinct way of being.

Riku realized that as they grew closer to where this med wing was that if he was getting here with Sora or Kairi, he wouldn't be trying out the drugs for a change in his experience. Neither of them would let him, and his own guilt would be overridden by his sense to accomplish something. But they weren't here tonight. He had no way of knowing if they were even still in Landel's. Any plans he could make were based off maybes, so he had to focus on now.

He slowed considerably to glance down toward Albedo. The guy still had a question to answer, and it seemed wise to get that out of the way before they had these drugs in their systems.

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((From here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1135139.html?thread=79295523#t79295523).))

Mokona watched her friend’s face as they moved around the corners, glad they were close enough that she could see him, even in the dark. He seemed excited enough about what he had heard on the radio that it was clear to her how big of a chance this was for the people living here. And while the little creature was sad she had missed the announcement, she knew she could trust the man to guide her to the right place!

Mokona was only too willing to believe the lies, even if there was a bit of truth in them. He led her quickly and quietly down the hall to the other end. It was odd to think he'd been here for nearly a month and not yet seen this part of the building, but such were the circumstances. It also looked like there'd been others through this way already and he couldn't yet detect the scent of blood or screams in the air, so it was possible that it was safe.

"Through here!" he said with a bit of excitement, just to keep the child from scaring. As long as she believed it was safe, that was for the best, wasn't it? No need to scare her without a reason.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1138711.html?thread=79299607#t79299607)]

_{[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1135928.html?thread=78963000#t78963000)]}

It was a familiar and relatively uneventful walk to the other side of the building, where the medical wing was situated. Yomi had been a participant in the Landel's Institute game for too long already--she'd been this way many times over and knew what to look for. Her experience, however, stopped outside the door. Having never been injured enough to need serious medical treatment, she'd never been inside. Neither had she seen the door open before tonight.

Aguilar, it seemed, had been earnest about giving the prisoners access. How many people had already crammed themselves inside like sardines, poking around and looting? How many had already drugged themselves, in lieu of the staff doing it for them?

One would have to be dumb not to recognize how similar this opportunity was to so many of Landel's past stunts. And just like Landel, Aguilar and his military were collecting a mass amount of information on everybody made to play. To what end, Yomi still didn't know. All that was clear was that the Institute's ringleaders were getting some kind of use out of their captives' continued existence. Considering how much they knew about her already (everything, more than even she knew about herself), Yomi wasn't worried about them finding out more.

She hadn't been entirely untruthful with Ushiromiya. What was the worst that could happen when they knew everything? When the worst already had happened?

_{[heading inside here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1138711.html?thread=79327511#t79327511)]}

Edited 2011-08-15 23:28 (UTC)

[From here]

The crowd had died down once leaving the Medical Wing, silence filling the gaps where hushed chatter had once been. As silent as he aspired to make his own steps, the emptiness of the hallways amplified everything. It was all he could do to keep the noise to a minimum.

Cautiously, he turned his gaze to the darkness of the hall ahead of them. Perhaps he could convince Ms. Littleton to rest in her own room. He could explore on his own without needing to concern himself with the woman's fragile mental state and therefore keep the both of them out of danger. They could ask the others if the medicine had an effect on them in the morning, when she had calmed down.

Edited 2011-08-17 04:56 (UTC)

Thankfully, Venom had taken the hint and kept his mouth shut. He still stomped along with all the subtlety of a wounded boar (she would know by now what that sounded like) and just kept...

She didn't know how to describe it, but it was fraying her nerves. There was something he did, just the way he strutted about like he was a master of stealth (he wasn't) and the smartest one in the room (again, he wasn't), something - it was indescribable, perpetually on the tip of Claire's tongue. But it was there. And she had felt it before now too. She was sure. There was something pompous and dark about him.

Yes, exactly. Pompous. He certainly thought a lot of his own opinion, shooting down hers when she had suggested finding where the guards slept. Implying that she couldn't handle the night alone. Seemingly shocked and appalled that she had the audacity to turn up in the same hallway as his. Not even on purpose, but the man had been affronted all the same. In fact, this whole trip he'd let her suggest was just some another round of patronizing pats on the head, wasn't it? Of course your idea didn't work out, Claire dear. It surely wasn't your fault we wasted our time with the medicine that did absolutely nothing.

Her grip clenched around the axe. She was positively itching to be rid of him.

The need to get away from the total lack of sanity before her was not helped when he slowed to gaze longingly down a hall. Claire gave an impatient huff, letting the head of the axe hit the floor with a pronounced thud.

"What now?!" she snapped, flinging a hand in the air for punctuation. "What is it? What are you staring at? Hmm?" Claire peered around his shoulder, angling her torch at the darkness. There was nothing there. Of course. "Are there more drugs down there, or are you just stopping to smell the flowers?"

Thud.

The sound was loud enough to make him startle, his body immediately turning back toward the woman's direction. Her axe had hit the floor (so that was what caused the noise...) and she had taken to scolding him like he had done something more than examine his surroundings. What the hell had managed to make her so explosively agitated? He had known she was irritated--that was firmly established five minutes ago--but he hadn't expected this sort of ill-temperament.

It was just a bad mood-swing. Ms. Littleton had already proven herself undeserving of physical punishment for her instability during the trip to town and this would not turn into a fight. She would be fine in the morning if he could simply get her to her room.

Venom slowly took a step away from the woman and pulled his cue aside, keeping any part of his weapon from pointing in her direction, as he raised his free hand as a sign of passiveness. He wasn't going to allow this to get out of hand. He had diffused situations like this before and he would do it again. She had to calm down. "Ms. Littleton," he began, voice altogether losing the usually cold tone to shift into something more soothing. "I think it may be best for you to return to your room. You're beginning to act erratic."

What did he think he was doing, posing as Gandhi or something? Yes, because Venom was the spitting image of piety and virtue with his pool cue held up like a shepherd's staff and his hand in the air. Could this man get any more unbelievable?

Apparently, he could.

The drop in temperature was palpable. Or perhaps it was a rise - though Claire's insides ran cold at the man's incredibly poor choice of words, her skin flushed hot and her eyes seemed to glint without light. "...Erratic? Erratic, Venom?"

The axe head grated on the linoleum for a beat as she reclaimed the step between them, then it rose to the air as she rested the handle on her shoulder. Though frankly, the impression of rest was the last thing the shift had given. She glowered as she carried on. "I don't think you're in any position to be calling me out on acting weird. You're the one who refuses to do anything about being stuck here. You're the one hiding your face behind that hair. What do you think you're hiding from? Is it supposed to be intimidating? The man with no face? The man with some stupid Egyptian wig?" Half youthful, half maniacal, Claire snorted at the idea and put on a sneer. "Guess what, tough guy? It's not."

There was something so primitively and instinctively offensive in the blonde's first suggestion, in the fact that anyone had come to the opinion that he wasn't trying to pull every single string available to him in order to unravel what was happening here. He had spent the past two weeks exhausting his available resources to gain any sort of ground in this asylum and he had directed enough guilt onto himself for his failures without anyone else putting more on him. Calm as he tried to be, that insinuation left his hand tightening around his cue as he swallowed his hate back down into his chest. She didn't know what she was saying. She didn't know anything about him and this lashing of words was nothing more than an attempt to goad him into starting an altercation.

He wasn't going to fall for it.

"Think what you will, Ms. Littleton." He wasn't going to stop her. He never asked the woman to be intimidated by him or ignore his short-comings. "I'm only suggesting you put down your weapon and calm yourself. I am not the person you should be upset at."

There it was again. That brutal flippancy. He didn't care about a single word she said. He was talking down to her, as if she were a child and not ostensibly the same age as he was. One serene brow raised as the final frigid wind blew through her and chilled her bones.

"And if you are?"

The torch clattered and spun on the floor. Both hands were dedicated to the axe and the arc it traced, up and over her head then down the same curve - the blade aimed squarely between Venom's eyes.

Damn it!

The instant the light struck the floor, the assassin pushed himself back again. There was enough sound to hear Ms. Littleton raising her weapon, so Venom raised his own, swinging the cue sideways in order to catch the shaft with his other hand. As Claire swung her axe down, he pulled his cue up to stop that blow mid-swing and force the metal pole between the head and the handle of the axe.

He wasn't going to hurt her, but he wasn't going to let her kill him either! "That is enough!" Hands occupied as they were, he pulled his right leg back before forcefully kicking at the blonde's middle.

Edited 2011-08-17 20:59 (UTC)

A stunted holler followed the bang of the kick. Claire stumbled away, axe still in hand but cringing with the pain in her gut. The bruise would be a nasty one, she could feel it already.

It only infuriated her more.

"SHUT UP!!" The axe swung backwards again, faster than before. She'd gotten quite enough practice swinging at firewood and limbs that the weight was scarcely a thing to her now. Claire sent the blade towards his stomach this time. If she could get him bleeding there, he'd go down real easy like. "YOU SHUT UP, YOU STUPID BASTARD!!"

Edited 2011-08-18 04:26 (UTC)

This wasn't right. Ms. Littleton was a kind, if not incredibly naive, person. As unstable as she appeared to be, he could never imagine her outright attacking someone without any sort of pressing. She'd attacked the guards in town in response to their obvious harassment. They'd threatened to take the present for her son. As violent as he knew she could be, it was never without reason.

If it was those drugs that caused her to act out this way...

Venom jumped back again, away from her swing, though this time the leap was slightly to the side. He spun his cue between the fingers of his right hand, then quickly grabbed onto it with his left mid-motion and swung the weapon in a downward arch--directly at the woman's hands.

There was one key difference between the fighters, brushing size and gender aside. Claire, while a formidable force on her own, had never truly learned how to fight. She could hunt, shoot guns, slit throats, and set traps, and was aided by the manic determination that drove from the messy divorce of her mind and reason. Then there was Venom, who was nothing like Claire at all. He ducked and swatted at her knuckles with the practised ease of a martial artist - something she had seen glimpses of in Sayid. He knew what he was doing, and she was just aiming for openings wherever she could get them.

She hollered when the cue struck, dropping the axe immediately. It fell with the blade standing high, propped upright by the flat back of the metal head. The backs of her fingers smarted fiercely, swelling already and turning shades darker in the grey blanket of night. She was almost shocked he hadn't broken them.

Claire didn't pause, however. The kill or be killed mantra of the island had taught her better than that. She didn't risk stooping down to pick the axe up either. She would have to drive him away to do that, make certain that she and the axe were out of reach so she could retrieve it without taking a blow to the head. Instead, she reached for the pocket of the tool bag. Out slipped a black handle and a long, glinting blade.

With a flash of light from the torch, the knife rose and swiped. She was aiming for his eyes.

Perhaps they should make that two differences: while the island had given Claire an almost murderous instinct while in a fight, being raised an assassin still failed to erase the concept of mercy in Venom.

The axe hitting the ground was audible and Venom again lowered his weapon at the sound. He didn't want to her hurt her. What was happening now was a misunderstanding--something either instigated by foreign chemicals or an unstable mind. It wasn't her fault. If he could get closer to her, prove this wasn't a battle she wished to have, maybe he could persuade her to return to her room and sleep off whatever she was feeling right now.

He stepped forward again, his weapon trailing non-threateningly behind him. "Ms. L--"

Once light had bounced off of the blade the woman held, it was already too late to fully move out the way. While the Guild Head instinctively moved to the side, the knife found flesh with the side of his cheek, blood immediately spilling from the wound and staining his white hair red. As much as the pain shot itself straight into his brain, he knew it wasn't enough damage to stop him.

Unfortunately, it was that useless notion of sympathy that kept him from doing much more than jumping back and bringing an empty hand to his bloodied face. She was still armed...? Damn it, would she just stop it?! "Ms. Littleton, I don't wish to hurt you. Stand down."

That words had come from his mouth had escaped her. Or rather, the knife struck before he could finish forming words. There was a small jolt of victory to the sight of blood, putting a wicked twist in the corner of Claire's mouth.

The cut was shallow, but it was progress. Even better, he was trying to take the higher ground and avoid hitting her back. The reasons were beyond her, but she didn't care to go chasing after them right now. She needed him on the floor before she could put that axe in a tidy little slot through his forehead.

First though, she should get rid of any chance he had of swatting her with that pool cue. If she lost a fight to a goddamn stupid weapon like that, she really did deserve whatever bloody end that came to her.

The order to stand down only widened the smile, the shift a measure of the careening psychopathy that had spawned within Claire in the last few minutes. Though as Venom himself had guessed, it had a steady platform to work off of ready and waiting. "I don't care!"

Another flash from the knife, lower this time. If she could slice through the muscle of even just one arm, he would be half-defenseless. With a weapon as long as the cue it was nearly impossible to wield the thing one handed. With any luck, the shock of a deeper pain would further muddle him and allow her to get a more damning blow in before fetching the axe.

...So she would have to be persuaded the hard way? Fine then. He would teach her not to attack the leader of the Assassins' Guild ever again.

Venom didn't attempt to in put more distance when Claire swung her knife forward--instead, he moved in closer. He put his shoulder between them, aiming to drive his elbow into her chest and force both her and her hand away before they could cause more damage. Successful of no, the proximity that required resulted in more spilled blood and he let out a hiss of breath as the blade tore through his forearm. It might not have been as deep as she had aimed for, but it would leave a mark.

Why is she doing this?

A pitiable choke spilled out of Claire as Venom's hit connected. The wind left her. She knew she had landed a strike, but she was hurt too and stumbling back once again.

But this time, there were tears on her face. She spluttered, doubled over and wheezing. Desperate hands clutched at her arms from across her chest. A string of spit dangled from her lips after a particularly heavy cough.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Venom was, for all intents and purposes, twice her size and twice as strong. Even a merciful blow like that could send a tiny thing like Claire crumpling over. This was exactly why she preferred her shotgun. And why she never let herself get close to her enemies anymore. She had been stupid.

With a few more pained gasps, she finally managed to rattle out something resembling English. "Wa...why are you doing this?" She moaned, bending over further still. Her eyes squeezed and dribbled out another pair of tears. "What's going on, Venom?!"

The feeling of the strike connecting and the choking noises that resulted afterward was enough for Venom to understand the woman wouldn't be retaliating immediately. As determined as she was, she was an untrained woman who'd just taken an elbow to the solar plexus. With an opening in mind, the assassin took a step back, swung his weapon in his hands and--

When the sputtering turned into sobs, the heat the battle had left in his blood drained away. Had the damage snapped her out of it? She'd begun questioning his actions just as quickly as she started chastising them before; it was easy to think of this as another mood swing. He'd already determined she was mentally unbalanced, so...

Despite all logic screaming otherwise, despite his instinct telling him to stay away, the assassin still kneeled to the ground beside her, lowering his cue to the ground (though it was still in reach. Paranoia could not entirely leave him.) and hovering an empty hand above her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Edited 2011-08-21 05:11 (UTC)

The cue was on the floor. Claire's ears perked at the sound.

The tears hadn't been completely faked. She was in pain and god, did she mean every ounce of frustration behind them. Yet she had twisted the sounds a little. Wrenched the pitiful blathering up a notch, just enough to get him close -

- and she was twisted around, her knife steady as it rammed towards Venom's middle.

Not typically her style, deception. But Claire would always do what she needed to survive.

He really should have seen that coming.

Pain made itself known before the notion of betrayal did. Honestly, the idea that she had just abused his trust was entirely second to the radiating heat pouring from his stomach and the choked gasp leaving his throat. Still, it was shameful. It was the oldest trick in the book: crocodiles tears. He'd still fallen for it, childishly so.

He didn't have any room to call Ms. Littleton naive anymore. He'd just proven himself far worse.

It still wasn't important as the pain and there hadn't been any thought behind his actions in the face of it. There was only instinct and the need for her to get away from him. Power surged through his hand as he struck it out toward the body next to his own--the energy next to his palm solidifying into a ball the instant before it would make contact. He'd known from his first captive day that he couldn't use his Magic in these walls. He just wanted her to get away!

Finally. Something hit and stuck, something vital. The squelch should have been nauseating, but she wanted the sound on replay. It loosened the grip on her chest. Let her breathe. Let her think. She sucked in a happy gust of air and grunted with the effort it took to yank the blade out.

She was feeling much better now. Much, much better. The vice on her chest hadn't been lost entirely, but she was confident things would clear up once he had shut his trap and died already. She could work out the rest of the night and carry on without some arrogant twat trailing after her, and the heat would seep out of her head. Venom's very presence, simply the sight of him brought her the strangest fever.

Claire wondered how her luck would hold out. A knife to the gut was a crippling blow in most cases. Would she even need the axe?

The answer was lost when there was a flash of light from Venom's hand. Claire had no more than a second to marvel at it, brain flashing to 'torch' though Venom had not been carrying one and the glow was nothing like it. It dissipated - there was a round shadow in its wake, just the right size to be clutched in the man's palm. Then it rocketed into her.

The blow itself wasn't painful. It was more the shock of it that sent her reeling backwards, beyond the heels of her feet and to the floor. Had she known what was coming, she might have spared a thought for something other than surprise. Thought of Aaron, perhaps. Thought of Charlie, her Mum.

But the crack of bone against a blade came all too soon, and there was no time for that. Claire's limbs flopped, the fingers dangling and spilling the knife to the floor. A few treats were knocked from her bag. The wrappers kept the sweets safe from the slow pool spreading out from under her, inky dark in the grey tones of night. Her eyes were blank but fixated on Venom, her jaw slack. And from under her hip, the light of the fallen torch found the tip of the axe handle. The rest was trapped beneath her.

Edited 2011-08-24 08:19 (UTC)

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Night 57: Main Hallway, 1-East

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