James T. Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doneinthree) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2011-10-24 06:43 pm
doneinthree) wrote in damned_institute2011-10-24 06:43 pm
Entry tags:
- alaric,
- anise,
- brook,
- byrne,
- celty,
- chipp,
- claude,
- damon,
- donna,
- edgar,
- edward cullen,
- england,
- firo,
- gumshoe,
- guy,
- guybrush,
- hakkai,
- kirk,
- kratos,
- lana skye,
- leanne,
- lust,
- mccoy,
- nigredo,
- peter petrelli,
- rapunzel,
- renamon,
- riku,
- rita,
- rose (tvd),
- rose lalonde,
- s.t.,
- sam winchester,
- sechs,
- seishin,
- sora,
- spock,
- stefan,
- taura,
- terra branford,
- the scarecrow,
- tsubaki,
- utena,
- venom,
- zack,
- zero,
- zex
Night 59: Main Hallway, 1-West
[from here]
Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.
(What had killed that creature?)
Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.
Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.
[KIRK TO ENTERPRISE]
Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.
(What had killed that creature?)
Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.
Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.
[KIRK TO ENTERPRISE]
no subject
... Or so he'd thought, until he reached the more populated hallways, which this night were occupied by not only patients, but an unusual amount of chaos and catastrophe.
The first sign Guybrush had that something was amiss was as he passed the ladies' quarters: the floor was littered with ice, corpses of monstrous animals lined the wall, and a trail of bloody prints led toward the main hallway, all illuminated by the pink glow of the walls. It wasn't the first time he'd seen creatures in the halls leading to the patient rooms, but to see so many at once couldn't have been more foreboding.
He paused for a moment as he entered the main hallway, hearing the sound of singing from somewhere in the pink-hued darkness. More corpses decorated every inch of space. What was the line? Right- "I've got a bad feeling about this." He then picked up the pace as he stepped around what looked like a squashed dog, deciding time was suddenly an issue.
[To here.]
no subject
"Okay," Guybrush said to himself, trying to unrattle his nerves after his second crossing through the Hallway of Unspeakable Terrors, "if I were Javert and I wandered into what is most likely the deadliest night Landel's has ever seen, where would I go?"
• I have all the powers of an inspector again! Time to go solving crime and catching bad guys!
• Monsters everywhere? Not on my watch! Protecting the innocent is my job!
• With all these monsters everywhere, I'll be the bathrooms are empty. Finally, some privacy!
"Disciplinary corridor to rescue those undergoing sleep studies!" Guybrush concluded. "Javert seems like the type who doesn't alter his schedule too much."
With that, he tore across the corridor, heading for the stairs. The longer Javert was alone, the more dangerous the situation became in both reality and in Guybrush's mind.
no subject
The main hall had been comparatively quiet when he had passed through it first; now it seemed a veritable battlefield in comparison. The walls and floor were littered with the remains of various creatures--dogs, bats, spiders--and judging from the arcs of light flashing occasionally through the soft pink, the other patients were more than well-equipped to deal with anything that might strike next.
So that was what it was.
"A return of powers," Javert murmured to Ema. "Or something that seems like it. Come; I've no particular desire to get caught in the crossfire--"
He paused. That tall, gangly figure running for the stairs was unmistakable. Had they arranged a place to meet to night? He couldn't recall.
"Threepwood!" he shouted, increasing his pace. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
no subject
Otherwise, however, Mr. Javert seemed really understanding. And he was right about her complaints being data--any grievances anyone had were worth recording, since they were brought about by their circumstances. However, now wasn't the time. They could compare notes about her frustrations and his inability to uncover spectacular new findings in the morning. Besides, there was something in the main hallway that caused Mr. Javert to urge her onward. If people's powers were back like he suggested, they were even less prepared to defend themselves than usual.
As Ema nodded to show her understanding, someone else caught the inspector's eye. She had to jog to keep up with him as he approached this "Threepwood" person, whoever he was.
no subject
"Javert!" he called back, getting to his feet and recovering his flashlight. "I was just headed upstairs to see if you were up there. And still alive. Glad to see you're more one of those things than the other." He approached the inspector, who apparently had a friend- possibly another member of the Search & Rescue, he reasoned.
He reached behind him, pulling his sword out of seemingly nowhere. "In good news, my amazing ability to hold everything in a single pair of trousers is back. In bad news, everything else is a mess. Especially the hallway leading to your room. I've seen more exploded cat tonight than I ever have— or ever want to again— in my entire life."
no subject
He frowned slightly--yes, the man had mentioned something about special trousers before, hadn't he? Sometime during one of his myriad ramblings. He probably should have paid more attention, but it had been difficult to filter for "trousers" considering the man's tendency to veer off all too happily onto the subject of his darling wife. Not that he'd particularly wanted to filter for "trousers" at the time.
He was getting off course himself.
"It doesn't look like it'll get any better," he said. "Threepwood, this is Mlle. Ema Skye. She'll be accompanying us tonight. Mlle. Skye, Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate, or so he claims."
With the introductions done, he turned for the stairs. It would be easy enough to talk while they were walking.
no subject