For all the sterile surroundings of the Medical Wing, there were still a few dirty, creepy crawly problems that the Institute didn't take care of so much as sweep under the rug, at least during the daytime. A few of said "problems" were awakened by the sounds of footsteps in the records room, and papers rustling.

The patient did not want to stay long, but the room's til-now-silent occupants had other plans. As he approached the door, there came a skittering from underneath the shelves — and from above. Even from the walls, they scurried and scuttled. The roaches were out tonight, and they were hungry.

From all corners of the room, ten of them closed in on the door, intent on chasing their prey out into the dark hallway if they had to.

[Eryn]