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damned_institute2011-10-24 08:05 pm
bitpartgod.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2011-10-24 08:05 pm
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Nightshift 59: M41-M50 Hallway
Kibitoshin wasn’t sure what alarmed him the most; the wailing sirens and the juddering blare of the computer voice or the aching gap their sudden absence left behind.
He sat in his room, heart pounding, feeling as though the floor were writhing under his boots. Writhing, and shifting, too. What was happening here? What had already happened? He could still feel the commotion zinging through his skin, could still see the uncomfortable pink glow—pink, now there was bad colour for now, it was far too close to red to make him feel safe. Other than that, though, the world around him seemed unchanged. Same room, same box, same boots stood neatly beside them.
But it was different. He could just tell, the way you felt someone’s eyes staring into your back in the pitch black, or that you’d reached the top step on a flight of stairs. Something inside him so very and so perfectly natural could sense a subtle shift.
Unsteadily- he didn’t know why he was unsteady, but as he rose his head spun a little- he moved for his box to get changed. At least he could spare himself the embarrassment of changing in front of Ritsu now that he knew they were both male. Goodness only knew he felt uneasy enough as it was, and right now he needed the comfort of his old uniform more than ever if he was really going to go out there and help Peter still.
Which he was. Definitely.
“H-hey, I need to go. I’m going to be around to heal people, so- so if you need help, I might be able to find you,” he told his roommate, hopping slightly as he pulled on his left boot. “Be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this.”
With that he tied his sash about his waist, stepped out of his room- and suddenly understood.
[to here]
He sat in his room, heart pounding, feeling as though the floor were writhing under his boots. Writhing, and shifting, too. What was happening here? What had already happened? He could still feel the commotion zinging through his skin, could still see the uncomfortable pink glow—pink, now there was bad colour for now, it was far too close to red to make him feel safe. Other than that, though, the world around him seemed unchanged. Same room, same box, same boots stood neatly beside them.
But it was different. He could just tell, the way you felt someone’s eyes staring into your back in the pitch black, or that you’d reached the top step on a flight of stairs. Something inside him so very and so perfectly natural could sense a subtle shift.
Unsteadily- he didn’t know why he was unsteady, but as he rose his head spun a little- he moved for his box to get changed. At least he could spare himself the embarrassment of changing in front of Ritsu now that he knew they were both male. Goodness only knew he felt uneasy enough as it was, and right now he needed the comfort of his old uniform more than ever if he was really going to go out there and help Peter still.
Which he was. Definitely.
“H-hey, I need to go. I’m going to be around to heal people, so- so if you need help, I might be able to find you,” he told his roommate, hopping slightly as he pulled on his left boot. “Be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this.”
With that he tied his sash about his waist, stepped out of his room- and suddenly understood.
[to here]
M41
When the alarms first went off, the crappy mood he had had all throughout dinner was instantly replaced with a rush of adrenaline as he jolted out of his chair and uttered perhaps the only logical response to this situation: "What the hell?!"
Seriously, what the hell was happening?
He flipped around to stare at his roommate, eyes wide. So creepy intercom broadcasts were out of style now? Guess so, because tonight Aguilar was replacing them with the most obnoxious alarms on the face of the planet and a very unsettling message. Emergency. Code Red. What did Code Red mean? What was the emergency?
Badd.
Badd!!
As much as Byrne had probably pissed him off earlier (not to mention how much the prosecutor was almost afraid of encountering him again after what he'd said before), he didn't care anymore. After a broadcast like that? Byrne needed to find him. NOW.
And this would be why the prosecutor was out the door in a flash not even a minute after the alarms went silent, only stopping briefly to grab that handgun and shout back at McCoy, "Be careful!"
Oh god oh god oh god what was going on?
[To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1188857.html?thread=80840441#t80840441).]
no subject
McCoy checked to make sure he had all his limbs intact. Everything seemed to be there. He didn't feel any different.
"Take care!" He called back to Byrne, then checking on his things once last time, found everything ready. He headed out. Maybe Spock had some idea what was goin' on.
no subject
With not much else to do, Harvey had gotten his inventory in order early on. The medical wing didn't seem like it was going to be that dangerous compared to some of the other places that he'd been, but he also realized that he couldn't assume much. For all he knew, that was where they nabbed people and performed vivisections on them. For that reason, he went with his usual arsenal: his gun and the metal pipe.
As he was going through the metal box they put all their stuff in for his flashlight and radio, the intercom came on and Berg made a very vague -- yet interesting -- announcement. More patients were getting snatched up to do things for Aguilar, huh?
Well, that wasn't his business. He doubted Jones was going to be picked for something like that considering his state, which meant that the man was going to be waiting for him in the spot they'd talked out earlier in the day. There was a good chance Harvey would get there first, but...
Out of nowhere a siren came on, causing Harvey to almost stumble against his desk. He definitely didn't like being startled like that, but he quickly recovered and focused on the message given. Emergency, Code Red? It looked like something had gone wrong, and that could be either good or bad for them. Only one way to find out.
"Here we go again," was all he said to Lunge as he tightened his grip on his flashlight and started for the door. As he made it out, he noted the strange pink florescence covering the floor. What the --
Okay, he wasn't going to worry about that. He'd meet up with Jones and they would figure it out, or at least try to. Harvey moved down the hall.
no subject
M44
"What the hell!?" Claude blurted. Just what was going on here? Was this part of the project, or did something go wrong? While he liked the idea of the military losing control, part of him felt concerned about the possibility of another night of I.R.I.S. freaking out. After all, that had been the night that Guy nearly--
Taking in a small breath, he hastily threw on his Federation jacket, grabbed his sword, and tucked the weird bone bracelet from the caverns into his pocket in case they needed it later. Then, without thinking too hard about it, he grabbed the hard hat he'd snatched that one night in Doyleton, the one with the light attached, and threw it onto his head. With the way things were looking now, there was a chance it'd come in handy later. That taken care of, he made sure to grab the blade he'd promised to Luke.
"Be careful tonight," he told Firo before stepping out into the hallway.
((To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1188857.html?thread=80860665#t80860665).))
From M44
Claude had grabbed his things and told him to be careful, and Firo nodded at him before his roommate stepped out. Once Claude was gone, he cast a look at the metal box with his clothes, debating whether he should change before he went. His own clothes were more comfortable, but as long as he loosened the collar of the uniform, it wasn't bad...
He did just that as he cracked open the lid of the box, but then he had to scrub his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. There was something new in his box, sitting beside his hat on top of his folded clothes: a knife. And not just any knife from the kitchen, but a proper knife. A fighting knife. Slowly, he picked it up and pulled it out of the sheath to inspect it; it felt good in his hand, and the blade was nice and sharp. He'd drawn blood running his finger along the edge, but it disappeared a second later.
Firo slipped the sheath back onto the knife and pocketed it. He wasn't sure whether this was supposed to be the promised 'reward' from yesterday or whether it was something that had just shown up like Claire's gun, but he wasn't fool enough to leave the weapon just because he didn't know where it came from.
The debate about changing clothes all but forgotten, Firo grabbed his flashlight and headed out.
[To here]
no subject
But, willfully stoic as he was, even he couldn't deny that there was some undercurrent setting him on edge. He'd tried to avoid any empty speculation on the cause of the alarms to begin with- the failed missions? the meetings with Berg? some outside force finally striking back?- but it was impossible and perhaps even suicidal not to consider what they meant for the future. Why had they set off the force-field, if that was what it was? Interesting, considering that it only appeared to extend as far as his surroundings: as he turned his hands over, Lunge found that they were without the same reddish glow. Why were they protecting the building? It seemed to imply that an attack had taken place or was expected to take place later-- but then, he supposed he would find that out when he left.
Of course he was going to leave. He had to meet L, after all. Part of him, the more sympathetic side of his nature, calmly agreed that he was being reckless, but pointed out that it would have been ridiculous for him to simply sit and wait for answers to come to him. The specific sort of danger he would end up in, after all, would be revealing in itself.
When Dent left, he calmly began to change. If there had already been an attack, who was it on? Presumably the higher-ups- maybe even Aguilar himself. By whom? Perhaps a mole. Berg had been reluctant to discuss Lydia, for one thing, so there was a chance that she'd decided to make a comeback of sorts.
He paused when he got to the shoes. As much as he'd rather have worn his loafers, it seemed more sensible to be prepared to run or fight on tonight of all nights: with a little effort he pulled his military boots back on, tucking the legs of his pants into the tops. There. Much more practical. The radio went into his trench coat pocket.
With that set, he took his hunting knife and flashlight- it wasn't needed with the red glow, but who knew how long that would last?- and left for the night.
M42
And for all the noise he could hear echoing in the hallways, it certainly didn't seem like a twister had taken the building from its foundation and flung it to a land faraway.
The Scarecrow waited by the door a moment, eyeing the rest of the corridor. He touched the wall across from his room tentatively, making sure the pink glow wasn't some sort of harmful magic- it had to be magic of some sort, he reasoned, but it didn't seem to react to him. Figuring it wasn't going to hurt him any more than it hadn't already, he leaned into it, pressing his forehead to the wall as he closed his eyes.
They had done the right thing, hadn't they? They'd been thanked by the Major personally, had saved not only Rosemarie's life, but another as well... and yet, he didn't feel that much better about it. He still had no idea where Mele was, of if he'd ever see her again.
There was that distinct pain in his chest, that emptiness that had been growing there since he'd discovered she'd been released. It had to be his heart being wrenched in half- surely that was it. He wasn't sure there was anything to be done about it, anymore.
Clicking his flashlight on, the Scarecrow looked to the ring still clasped in his hand. He slid it onto one finger for now, continuing down the hallway. He might never discover what happened to Mele, but hiding in his room got him nowhere, either. He could at least try to find out what the disturbance was.
no subject