Night 58: Pantry 1

[doneinthree]

[from here]

Momentum carried Kirk forward even as the scene changed: snow gave way to tiled floor and the field to a row of shelves, which they all got to experience intimately as Kirk slammed into Glasses and Wichita, and the two of them slammed into an assortment of soup cans, which tumbled off the shelf and down on their heads. Being the tallest, Kirk caught the brunt of the assault, because that was really all he needed right now on top of a gunshot wound and disorientation from the sudden teleportation. "Ow, ow, ow—"

Vaguely, he was aware of how deeply unheroic this whole thing had been, just as he'd been aware of how ridiculous he probably looked to the transporter technicians after he'd gotten trounced on the drill by Romulans and nearly killed himself and Sulu after losing his 'chute. But they were alive, or so Kirk judged from the echoes of ow from beneath him, and he'd take a ridiculous rescue any day of the week over an unsuccessful one. He let the pipe drop from his fingers, where it clattered on the floor alongside the last of the rattled soup cans, and grabbed his flashlight as he stepped away from the other two. They were in some sort of pantry... he remembered storage rooms marked on the map beside the first floor kitchen. Interesting.

It appeared they were— No. Kirk turned to point his flashlight at the exit, and frowned. He thought he'd saw someone darting from the room — short, with long pale hair — but the door stood firmly closed, and he hadn't heard anyone or anything in here except Wichita and the other guy. Funny. The last time he'd been in this area, he'd been with... okay, never mind, those cans hit in the head harder than he thought. The three of them were alone. Kirk finally allowed himself to prod at his bloody arm and grimaced. The bullet had passed clean through and hadn't hit bone, but his shirt sleeve was a mess. So much for his shiny new uniform.

But as much as it hurt, he knew he'd gotten off inexplicably lucky. Wichita had probably been shot worse. Kirk clamped a hand over his wound and looked over at the other two. "Everyone in one piece?" he asked, trying for a tone of confidence.

Comments

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Zack hadn't been prepared for Sangamon to warp them right then and there, but in the end he wasn't left with much choice. The movement came suddenly and harshly, leaving Zack off-balance when they landed in the room. It wasn't one he'd ever been in before, but it soon became obvious why they'd come here. Mainly because he stumbled and ended up knocking a large jar of pickles off of one of the shelves. It fell to the floor and shattered.

"...Whoops," he said as he grabbed for the empty spot the jar had left and regained his balance. The nausea faded quickly and then he turned to the others with a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that."

Not that the pickles were that much of a loss. It wasn't like Tifa would be smart to hide something like that in her room. No, it definitely made more sense to go with the stuff that wasn't likely to spoil or spill. Plus, she only had so much space.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, taking one of the waters for himself. He took a swig and found that it was surprisingly refreshing. As nice as it was to have a drink after all he'd been through, there was nothing like water. Once that was done, he took a glance around. "I guess we should have brought a pack or something with us..." Well, too late now. They'd just have to pile as much as they could in their arms.

[toxicspiderman]

"Did we need to go anywhere?" The floor was just as comfortable as it had been in Tifa's room. Three of them could deal with any overgrown cockroaches. Going back through the Sun Room when they didn't need to seemed like a stupid idea no matter how much S.T. drank.

He'd already started stacking a pile on the floor. He'd grabbed another tray of water, and now he went for the bread. He pulled a loaf off a shelf and stared.

"What the fuck?" That was skin. Wrinkly balls and a dick with RAT tattooed on it, which gave a good indication of its owner.

S.T. approximated and pulled a box of corn flakes off the shelf several feet down, revealing Spider's forehead. Another box and his face was visible. He was typing on thin air, with a look of rapt concentration usually reserved for rabid dogs and computer nerds. S.T. waved in front of his face. Nothing.

"You guys see this? That was just vodka, right?" He didn't feel like he was high. Spider wasn't screaming or dying. Maybe he was real and S.T. was the hallucination. That made more sense.

[36-24-35.livejournal.com]

Tifa turned her head to Sangamon's strange question. "I can't promise.... it--What... the...?" Heart lodged in her throat and adrenaline jumping through her veins, Tifa took a quick step forward, eager to help the man down, before she realized it wasn't a real person--Or at least not the solid kind of persons. When Sangamon couldn't capture his attention, the young woman wondered if he was even part of the physical realm.

"I'm not drunk enough to be seeing this..." Yet here she was, staring at a naked man who gave no sign of any real clarity as he moved his fingers back and forth intently.

"Is it... an illusion?" Whether or not it was manufactured by the institute or their own alcohol was not the problem. The problem was that if this wasn't just a part of their own imagination, it had the potential of hurting them. "Maybe we should leave..." It may have been a bit cowardice, but Tifa still remembered the last time she had been greeted by a shadow person. None of that conversation needed to be repeated again.

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Zack didn't really know how the whole issue of keeping items worked. Did they need to be holding onto it for it to count, or was it fine if they were just close to it? Would it all end up in Tifa's room tomorrow evening, or would it be split between them?

Well, that was something they'd have to find out the hard way, unless the others had any insights. Zack started to pull bags of chips and boxes of crackers off of one of the shelves until he heard the others sounding very perplexed.

He turned to see what all of the commotion was about, and as his flashlight moved over the body of a naked man, he couldn't help stumbling back for a second. "What..." It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, of course, but the guy was just standing there, moving his fingers as if he was inputting something on an invisible keypad.

Tifa seemed to think this might be a bad sign, and Zack was inclined to agree. "Guess we'd better grab what we can and book it," he agreed as he bent down and started picking the snacks up off the floor. He didn't know how a naked phantom was supposed to hurt them or bother them, but it was certainly unnerving.

[toxicspiderman]

"Naah."  S.T. cleared out some more boxes, and waved a hand in front of Spider's face.  No response.  That was surprising even for a fanatic reporter mid-story.  At least he should have told S.T. to fuck off.  "He's a friend.  And he can't see us.  Just don't get too close or you'll be looking at frostbite.  He'd stuck his hand under his other arm as soon as he'd pulled it back.  No harm done, but it had felt like sticking it into a snowbank, except dry.  Air wasn't supposed to suck heat that fast.

S.T. wondered what would happen if he stuck one of the bottles of water in.  Ghost cooler, just add water.  He grabbed a bottle out of the open box, loosened the cap so the plastic wouldn't split if it did freeze, and set it next to Spider's shoulder.

"Too bad he's not here.  He'd eat up Aguilar's doublespeak and shit out nuggets of truth, and love every minute of it."  Not that he'd admit the last part.  The rictus he called a smile did that for him.