damned_institute | Night 58: Main Hallway, 1-East

"One of Sora's friends requested that we go to the medical wing, so I was there last night," Kratos said. "We went into one other room besides the lobby area, so I wouldn't call our exploration thorough at all. But it was a starting point." And a starting point was better than no point at all.

The door to the medical wing loomed large at the end of the hall; Kratos, taking the lead, tested the lock. Naturally, since they were the first ones, the lock was still standing, but that would be easily amended. With a small sigh, he increased the pressure of his grip and sharply twisted the knob. He was rewarded with a click as the lock gave way, and the swordsman swung the door open so they could enter the wing, stepping aside to allow Soma to enter first.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1168800.html)]

Edited 2011-09-13 09:32 (UTC)

"I'm okay now," Rita replied hastily as she continued walking. "But I don't know what sort of effect the drug's going to have. A lot of people who took it before were hallucinating, or something..." Which was Brook's warning to watch out for signs of that with her.

There was a familiar buzzing sound then, which Rita recognized to be the radio she was carrying in her backpack. She quickly slipped it off her back, opened the front pocket, and pulled out the radio so she could hear the broadcast clearly. The man speaking sounded like he was exhausted, and his message wasn't a very encouraging one. It was hard to decide what to think about it, though...

No, there probably wasn't much time to spend on thinking about it in the first place. She'd leave that for later, when she didn't have an unknown drug attacking her body. Rita packed the radio back up, frowning. "If he has Landel that close by, why not finish him off? Idiot," she grumbled as she zipped up the bag. As she fumbled with her things, though... she realized her skin was abnormally cold. She couldn't see it, but her face had grown extremely pale, as well.

Something was definitely wrong with her... They had to keep moving.

Brook couldn't argue with the logic of doing something over sitting around. He'd taken the same approach to his own outings into the Institute. And it was what he would have done if he had the ability to do anything. Rita was clearly rattled, but she was at the very least pressing on. There was no fault in that.

Especially now that he was hearing of previous drugging effects. Brook had seen something on the bulletin about stranger happenings from the night before, but had been so worried over Sai that he hadn't paid them so much mind. He wished he had now. "I'll be on the lookout then..." he eventually said with a nodded understanding. If she started acting different, he'd do his best to help.

With the radio's message, Brook could only think more about what had happened with his own friend, but he just kept telling himself to think positively. He had to believe there was still hope. "Ah, I think it has to do with the one in charge now," he tried. Rita's grumbling gave him a focus to keep his thoughts away from the possibilities. "That General's the enemy now I suppose. Both the Radio Man's and Landel's. The enemy of my enemy or some such?" he added, glancing up in case the Intercom was soon to follow. The two usually traded off warnings after all.

"Doesn't help if the enemy of my enemy is ready to stab us in the back the next chance he gets," Rita grumbled. After everything the Head Doctor did to them all, it didn't look like a short partnership was going to make him rethink tormenting them all. From a practical standpoint, it was best to take out each of their enemies as soon as they showed their weaknesses.

Whatever. It wasn't Rita's choice. Marc could deal with the responsibility of letting that psycho loose once Landel went right back to his twisted ways. And she had no doubt that he would.

Rita glanced upward, too... and caught a glimpse of what looked like a light mist... or gas? She lost sight of it almost as soon as she noticed it, but... "Did you see that?" she asked Brook, nodding upwards to indicate where she meant. Maybe it was a hallucination... He might be able to confirm.

In the meantime, her complexion grew paler by the second... and even her clothes seemed to lose what little color they had. She still felt tingly all over, but Rita was doing her best to act as if everything was fine.

"Well no..." Again, Brook found it difficult to argue with the strong reasoning of the young woman. She certainly said what she meant without hesitation and knew whom she considered to be the enemy.

Just as he was about to give up on hearing anything from the intercom in rebuttal to the Radio, the sight of something above kept him from looking back down. The flash of white startled him for how quickly it came and went and left him blinking at the ceiling in confusion. Just what was...? he thought first, then heard Rita's question and realized that he hadn't been seeing things. "Ah... I believe so...?" he blinked once more and looked down at her, "Something white...?"

She seemed to be about as confused as him, but if the both of them had seen it, then there must have been something there. Just what that was, Brook wasn't sure, but he knew it couldn't be good. Just seeing it had startled him and seeing that Rita seemed to have paled meant to him that she had been scared as well. She was still a child after all.

"You shouldn't worry too much on it though, Rita-san," he added for some encouragement, "So many things happen at night! Getting scared from each one would keep us from getting anywhere, yes?"

Something white... He saw the same thing, then. That was a relief to hear; it meant that Rita's senses weren't completely out of whack. But her relief didn't last long. What was that mist? Rita remembered how the military released some sort of gas on the patients before... but her eyes and nose didn't feel irritated, so it couldn't be the same thing.

Just what were they trying to pull...?

She was pulled from her thoughts when Brook made some irritating comments. "I'm not worried. And who are you calling scared!?" she snapped at him, stomping over to the Medical Wing entrance. The lock on the door appeared to be broken, and she was able to enter easily.

[from here]

Yes, that. Was a little better. Mikado eyed the door he had passed cautiously, then breathed outward, looking at his feet. It was enough to be in this weird place at night with all the lights out. He'd end up scaring himself if there weren't so many people around. It was pretty creepy, really, and he was glad Masaomi wasn't here because the first thing he would have done was ran off so he could come around from somewhere and scare Mikado to the point of shrieks. Which... probably would have worked. The boy sighed in thought.

Though, really. He wouldn't have minded if Masaomi was here now. At least he wouldn't be so alone.

He exhaled again, and at least decided to look around in this area. There were a couple of doors around, and it might be interesting to see where they all went. The first door opened into a larger room, set with a few tables and chairs, like a doctor's waiting room. It also had another door, which... likely lead back to the center area. Mikado shut it and moved on. The second door opened into a stairwell. He peered into the dark carefully. There had been a balcony area around the sun room--maybe this led to there? Or it was where all the staff and soldiers were at.

Though, maybe it was safer at the moment. The creatures from outside were probably never upstairs. It'd be a little strange if they opened doors and climbed stairs to lay in wait.

...His flashlight's beam didn't illuminate enough he decided.

[From here]

And here it was: the eastern end of the hall at last... The access to the medical wing was most likely the door up ahead on the left, but—

A person on the right side of the hall caught his attention long before he reached that door. While there were a few people in this end of the hall, it was the figure near the stairs who had caught Izaya's attention. Or, perhaps more accurately, the boy's clothes caught his attention when the light of Izaya's flashlight fell upon him; he'd seen that jacket's owner wear it often enough that he recognized it immediately.

Ryuugamine Mikado was peering into the stairwell.

Izaya's pace slowed to a stop as he watched Mikado, and in that time, the boy didn't move from his spot, either to go upstairs or turn around and go elsewhere. It seemed he needed a little assistance in a decision, and in that instant, Izaya changed his own plans for the night. He turned towards Mikado, coming up behind him. He laid his hand across the boy's back and gave him a firm push forward into the stairwell.

[To here]

Edited 2011-09-17 01:06 (UTC)

[From here.]

As they neared the doors to the Medical Wing, Guybrush prepared to point out the way he'd taken the night before; however, the radio apparently had other plans as it crackled to life. Well, rather gasped to life. Through the speaker came the voice of Marc, Landel's apparently partner in whatever it was they were doing to bring down the military that had taken over the institute. While Guybrush didn't think the Head Doctor was much of an option over the General, he had to say the food had been better.

Even more surprising than the fact that the two were still working together was what he said: that Aguilar was making patients do his dirty work.

The broadcast ended, and Guybrush pushed the radio back into his sash. "So it looks like Aguilar isn't stopping at testing new drugs on willing patients."

That... That was not the intercom. Startled, Maya turned to Threepwood, but he didn't seem concerned—at least, not to the extent Maya had been. Paired with his comment previously about drinking mysterious potions, this was not the comfort it could have been, but they did not seem threatened by anything at the moment.

Paying attention to the broadcast proved quite rewarding, however. "So it would seem," Maya answered, turning to the stairs.

[from here]

They didn't need to walk that far to get to the entrance. Something about seeing that door open gave him the creeps! Maybe it was this hall in general. After all, he hadn't walked down this end of the building more than once or twice during the month he'd been here. Y-Yeah, that was probably all it was. He was just glad they didn't have to walk upstairs. He couldn't begin to guess what was on the east side of the second floor.

Gumshoe kept the girl within arm's reach. He wasn't letting anything happen to her, not on his watch. After taking a look around and not seeing anything strange, he stopped in front of the door and ran a hand through his hair. He'd never thought the day would come when they'd be going inside the Medical Wing on their own terms. "Why do you think they kept us out of here for so long?" he thought out loud, glancing down at the girl and frowning. "What harm would it have done to let us in earlier?" Then again, he could make a few guesses as to why. Medical supplies could be pretty hard to come by in the institute. Maybe they had wanted to keep it that way.

Anise felt a little safer, being next to someone so tall. She knew that big didn't always mean strong, but having seen the guy in action, Anise didn't doubt that he could do a few things to help. And she'd do her best too, of course!

"Huh... that's a pretty good question. I wonder..." It seemed like the Medical Wing was closed off for a really long time. There was a good chance that it was where patients got treated at the end of the night. Maybe they didn't want their medical secrets to get out? And they only just found a way to open up the rooms without exposing themselves? Maybe...

Anise's thoughts were soon interrupted when the intercom came on, and Aguilar began to address the institute. Looking upwards as if trying to face the speaker, Anise listened carefully.

When it was over, she looked back up at the Detective. "What was that all about? A traitor...?" That word held a lot more weight than Anise wanted to admit - whoever that traitor was, she'd been in the same position before. She was just lucky that she hadn't been found out sooner, or else she could have been the one being hunted down by an entire army.

After a moment of thinking, she voiced another question. "Major Harrington was the guy who was on the intercom today, right?"

The intercom suddenly clicked on out of nowhere. Gumshoe looked around wildly for the speaker and quickly decided to just stare at one of the corners of the ceiling. He didn't need to see the speaker to hear what it was broadcasting.

You know what Gumshoe thought? That the General loved the sound of his own voice! It was an easy call to make in Dr. Landel's case, but this guy... He hadn't even been around here that long and Gumshoe had already had enough of him!

But to tell the truth, what bothered Gumshoe about him was that he was the only "warden" they'd had that the detective thought they had real reason to fear. That wasn't to say Dr. Landel hadn't been as dangerous, but at the end of the day, the General had an entire army working under him. The problem wasn't that they didn't know what the General was capable of; it was not knowing how far he was prepared to go that had Gumshoe worried. (Well, they'd already gotten a preview, namely the tear gas incident. It scared him to think of all the other ways that could have ended.)

His gaze fell to meet the girl's, who seemed just as interested as he was. "Sounds like we aren't the only ones who have a bone to pick with the General. He must think we're a bunch of idiots! As if we'd want to help him catch the guy. I don't know about you, pal, but I'm rooting for the traitor!"

He unclenched his fists, realizing his knuckles had turned white, and raised an eyebrow at the question. His eyes then wandered away from her face. "Um... yeah, I think so." He didn't have a clue.

Rooting for the traitor? Anise never thought she'd hear someone say that. It was kind of funny, in a way. A traitor was pretty much the worst thing a person could be, but right now, it was their best hope at someday beating the military.

"Yeah! He better not get caught!" Or she, of course. It was easy to picture all spies as slimy old guys like Spinoza, but Anise knew from experience that that was precisely why less typical ones were so good at sneaking around.

She could have mentioned that there were some patients who probably would be willing to sell out an ally, either for their own benefit or just to make things worse for other people, but Anise decided that the last thing they needed was negativity. Besides, she wanted to think that people like that were few and far between.

It looked like they were at the Medical Wing entrance. The door was half-open and the lock on it was broken. They weren't the first ones to go in... which could be a good thing. Anise took the lead in entering, though she made sure not to move ahead too quickly. They had to stay close.

[to here]

[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1162907.html?thread=80232603#t80232603)]

There were more people milling in the halls than he expected. What was this, like a mass scavenger hunt? He thought maybe they were like him—mostly spooked into action than anything—but having been here for—fine, okay, he'd been here for, like, two days. But it was enough to say that of that those two days, Harry was starting to realize one very crucial thing:

No one was like him. He didn't mean that like a, a jackass I'm-special-and-better thing, he just. Meant that no one seemed to be really fucking freaked out by what was going on the way he felt. Temple of Doom guy over here included. Seriously, he'd met, like, five people, right? Not a single one. Who acted like that in real life?

Speaking of being here. "Oh, uh, yesterday morning. It hasn't been long, I haven't started carving tally marks into the wall with my own blood or anything. I met a guy, though, he sort of filled me in with the...experiments and stuff—oh, hey, over here, I think this is it."

There was just one door and it was at the end of the hall. That was a pretty good clue, right?

That was it. Indy knew the other two hallways and this door, which was usually locked. Tonight the lock had been neatly broken--they weren't the first patients who'd been this way.

He held up a hand to indicate that they needed to be quiet. After a pause, he decided he didn't hear anything that would keep them from continuing in.

Well, you usually didn't; most of the time he was in the room with whatever was about to try to kill him before it revealed itself. Still, being cautious didn't hurt, especially when you were injured and unarmed. They'd just have to bank on their luck holding.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1168800.html?thread=80262816#t80262816)]

Edited 2011-09-25 20:06 (UTC)

[from here]

She'd kept him waiting long enough; any more and, even if he had nothing to hold over her, he'd get either annoyed or angry, neither of which was something she wanted to deal with. Nice could be a lot of things. Information. Power. An weekend access pass to the Doyleton swimming pool, assuming there was one somewhere in that sham of a town.

"So what was this little reward, hmm?"

Lasting side-effects? Gant put on a nice smile, though he could still hear that taunting, vicious tone filtering her voice. Dammit, was she really threatening him or was it...? He didn't even care to know anymore.

"Oh, it died down ages ago," he lied, waving her first question off like nothing. He didn't want her to think that maybe he was weakened in any way. He was fit as a fiddle! She did not need to have any more of a hold over him as it was.

The door to the medical wing was in his sights, so Gant hurried along and opened it for Lana. Luckily the lock was already broken, making it a smooth transition. No need to waste time chatting it up in the hall while they battered away trying to get the lock open.

[from here]

All that running had Taura's stomach beginning to murmur. But there wasn't anyone else here, so she was just going to have to ignore it.

Wait. What? Of course she was just going to have to ignore it; she didn't eat people, no matter what the fangs looked like! Not, um, unless that was some sort of euphemism.

They'd given her something, all right, and it wasn't in the slightest bit all right. Something that was stripping the precise thing they'd given her back gift-wrapped -- her humanity, down to the last bit of outward appearances. She pinched the skin on her arm; it bruised under her fingers, far too easily for even this body. It was almost green.

She broke into a run. It was a medical wing, after all. There had to be some regular drugs in among the experimental ones.

[to here]

Edited 2011-09-27 21:39 (UTC)

[from here]

Rick leaving his side made him (afraid) uncomfortable, which in turn just...this wasn't working. Words to describe how much he hated this right now? Didn't exist. If this didn't stop now, he was going to bury a knife to the hilt in the nearest person. Who would be Rick. How convenient.

Though none of these thoughts stopped him from following when he never would've normally. Normally, he would've grabbed Rick by the arm and hauled him back so he could ask what the hell was his problem tonight.

As he fell back into step with Rick, his finger lightly along the sharp edge of the blade. Whether it was because he felt like using it or because he felt like he might need to use it, he couldn't say.

"You're being incredibly moody, by the way." Where that would've once been little more than a offhand remark, no matter how snappish Rick was acting, there was now a clear note tension running through it. He stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. There, medical wing. Could they just get this done with?

The door was open a crack. Damon gave it a push, swinging it all the way in. "After you."

Edited 2011-09-30 06:41 (UTC)

Alaric wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that he knew he was moody, or the fact that he couldn't stop feeling it. All his instincts were on overdrive, screaming something is wrong and, yeah, he accepted something was wrong. But what was he going to do about it? What was wrong?

"I'm stuck in a haunted mental asylum with you. I have reasons." It was a flimsy defense at best. To be truthful, being around Damon wasn't something that really made him uncomfortable. Wary, maybe. Not uncomfortable. Damon might not have as much memory of it as he did, but he'd spent more time with the guy than most people would believe. And more than he deserved he reminded himself.

- That wasn't the point.

Big surprise the med wing was pitch-black, just like everything else. He was sick of playing meat shield, and definitely sick of Damon invading his personal space for the umpteenth time. "You go first. I'm not dying for you again."

He wasn't looking at Damon's face when he spoke, but the knife in his hand.

The reminder that Alaric had died for him not that long ago made him narrow his eyes—uncertainty, more than anything. He didn't appreciate feeling uncertain, least of all now. There were plenty of remarks he could've made to that, but his instincts were spinning far out of control, distracting him. There was nothing hiding in whatever corners of this hallway. It was too wide and straight, for one. And for another, he would know.

But he couldn't help feeling it, anyway.

He cast a look at the inside of the room, then back at Rick, and rolled his eyes. He was hesitating. He never hesitated. Dammit.

"Fine. Give me that." He reached over without warning to snatch Alaric's flashlight. Look, if Rick wanted him to go in first, he was taking the damn light.

Which he didn't need. But that wasn't—whatever. Jesus Christ. He wanted it, so he was damn well taking it. That was more than the explanation he needed to give anyone.

[To here.]

Edited 2011-09-30 17:03 (UTC)

[From here.]

As they neared the entrance to the medical wing, the intercom came to life, filling the corridor with Aguilar's voice. It seemed the rebel was telling the truth- that he was using patients as a workforce now; however, some fought back by withholding the information they'd obtained. And for that, everyone was facing punishment.

Edgar snorted through his nose in irritation, knowing some would crack at the thought of their friends suffering for their actions. That would be what the General wanted, wouldn't it?

And of course, there was the other note of interest: a traitor. Not a rebel, but an outright turncoat working against the military. Now that was news.

Night 58: Main Hallway, 1-East

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