damned_institute | Night 59: Disciplinary Therapy Corridor

[From here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1193305.html?thread=81110105#t81110105)]

But inside, it was quiet. Dark, save for the same migraine-pink glow casting weird shadows everywhere. Who the shell ran this place, anyway? Princess Peach? Whoever it was, they were off their freakin' nut.

Otherwise, the place seemed empty. No tortured screams, no buzz of bone saws, not even close to what Raph was expecting. "It's clear," he growled, swinging the door open further. What little hope he still had for finding his brothers tonight was quickly dying. Maybe that Sangamon guy was right. Maybe he was alone after all.

No, he reminded himself. Stop thinkin' like that. Not like they haven't been through this before. They always found each other one way or another.

Hands balled into fists, he stalked his way around the corner and into the empty corridor, expecting the others to follow. Beyond, rows of metal doors stood like waiting soldiers, some intact, some wrenched open to more dark, empty rooms.

"What the shell? There's nobody in here!"

Now this was starting to feel like a trap. Night just kept on getting better and better.

Edited 2011-11-09 22:38 (UTC)

S.T. wasn't as fast as Raph -- by the time he'd caught up, the guy was an aneurysm waiting to happen.

"So that little red alert gig wasn't just for kicks." He couldn't keep Rapahel waiting, not unless he wanted a black eye, so he explained. "Every night there's a broadcast. Pointless scavenger hunts, vague threats, creepy bullshit. About one in three nights the place goes haywire. Different every time, but the freak sow up here goes on. Hell, last time they forgot was the zombie invasion." Raphael had heard of ninjas -- zombies didn't seem too weird to spring on him. "Which means tonight isn't just the usual radio drama anarchofascist romantic comedy." Patrick Swayze as Landel. Now there was a scary thought.

"We're off the hook." The rescue missions had been half to help and half to fell like they were doing something. "You got any bright ideas?" he said, turning to Zex? Raph just wanted to beat the shit out of something, which wasn't us usually hard to find, but maybe they could direct that energy.

The hallway gave him a distinctly uneasy feeling. Vague memories of being dragged down here, of waking up in one of these rooms, of...

He did his best to force the image from his mind. No need for that now. "Either nobody was brought here, or we're already too late. Either way, I suppose it doesn't matter now." Hopefully it was the former, although the latter at least meant that the victims had been rescued eventually. Unlike he himself had, but he was trying not to think about that.

"If there is indeed a red alert, then it's possible some of the defenses around the facility have been lowered in the chaos. We could go see if there's a way out of here now... or we could investigate some doors that were previously locked." ZEX was just thinking idly out loud. Really, he hadn't had much of a plan aside from finding some shields for exploration, and he'd done that well enough. "Equally likely that the defenses have just been reinforced now that the place is in a state of panic... I don't really know what a red alert entails for humans exactly." A moment to remind himself that their cultures were different - his preconceptions were probably incorrect.

"There's a locked door on this floor that I haven't been able to get through. We could also go downstairs and simply try leaving the grounds entirely. Which would you prefer?" As long as they got out of this hallway... it was making him uneasy. He took in a sharp breath as a cut appeared on his arm. Looked like his invisible assailants didn't like it either.

He pressed a hand to it. "I don't think we should dawdle here, either way."

Raph listened to S.T.'s spiel with as much attention as he could muster. Kind of hard when it felt like his blood was boiling under his skin. Anger was a familiar thing, almost comforting in a time like this, but feeling the fire roiling in his gut was something new. Warm-blooded. He felt like he was gonna puke.

We're off the hook, he said. Yeah, right. If only it was that easy. He had no clue where to look next, but maybe these guys did. Making plans was never his thing. Much as he fought with Leo in the past, that was one of the reasons he was glad he wasn't leader. Most of the time, he was happy with people just telling him what to hit.

As the two men talked, Raph broke away from the conversation to better check out the area, listening for any hint of life coming from the rows of locked doors. Then, onto one of the rooms that were wrenched open, wrinkling his nose at the smell of antiseptic. A sink, a bed with straps, a counter lined with instruments.

Maybe if he calmed down enough he could think of something. He had to. But honestly, that alien in a human skin wasn't doing his temper any favors.

"Whaddya mean it don't matter!?" Of course it mattered. He stalked back out of the room so he could yell at the moron properly. "Either this guy's right and the party got cancelled, or people got tortured tonight and we were too busy chit-chattin' to get here in time!" Seriously, how big of an idiot was this guy? "And there's no way I'm leavin' without my brothers. You guys do what you want, but I'm stayin' here."

Yeah, it was risky. If his bros weren't there after all, Raph could be passing up his only chance to escape, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

S.T. had seen enough, but Raph had a point. He stuck his head into one of the rooms. Whistle-clean. No skin oils on the big dentist's chair. His normal beat involved murder on a statistical scale, but he could play amateur Sherlock Holmes with the best of them.

"Not unless they sent the cleaning staff in for a round, and since they turn into slavering monsters at night, I think it's a safe bet."

"You want to get eaten just so you can act all self-righteous, you go right the fuck ahead. I'm going with him." He jerked a thumb at Zex. "Sounds like red alert isn't that different. Everyone to battle stations, top speed. Might have left something behind in the confusion."

"Like this one." He wiggled the knob on the southern door. "Should be a nurses station, right?" That's what those were on the first floor. Weird thing to lock that tightly, but the pink glow was seamless. Still, he jerked on it a few times.

Looked like he'd angered the shorter human. He couldn't think of why, but they'd always been somewhat irrational creatures. Not that he could say that his own species had a spotless record in that department. He held up his hands in, if he remembered this correctly, was a placating gesture.

"There's nothing to be gained by regretting things that have already happened." ZEX had actually made it a point to try and avoid regret, although he wasn't always successful. In a profession like his, it wouldn't serve him well. "It's too late to change anything. What we can do is do something now."

Although something he'd said caught his attention. "So your brothers are here as well? Did you speak to them at all about where they were going to be tonight?" The human's anger was a little more understandable now. If he wanted to look through the rooms for them, that was his business.

At last Taylor seemed calmer. ZEX tried a smile when he gestured at him. "I'll be glad for your company... although if you want to investigate the area a little longer, I have no issue with that." As long as it wasn't too long. This place made him feel distinctly uneasy. As for whether or not that was a nurse's station... "It could be. I must admit, I haven't studied this particular area in great detail."

He winced slightly at another stab at his back. Invisible pests. Hopefully they wouldn't take too long.

Raph glared daggers in S.T.'s direction, seriously contemplating just jumping the guy for his smug mouth. He didn't know what "self-righteous" meant, exactly. But S.T. made it sound like an insult, and that was good enough for him.

Still, Raph had some measure of self-control; at least enough not to attack people who didn't deserve it. The guy just didn't understand what he was willing to sacrifice for his family. Sure, it pissed him off, but he wasn't about to go off on some spiel about honor and brotherhood and being only four of their kind. That just wasn't his style.

"Whatever," he growled through gritted teeth. "I told you I can take care of myself."

He honestly didn't care what they did. There was no way in hell they were gonna protect him, so who was this guy trying to kid, anyway? If anyone should be worried, it's him and that ZEX guy. Soon as Raph left they'd have no one to save their skins if they ran into monsters.

At least ZEX was starting to make more sense. Asking about his brothers gave Raph enough of a distraction to keep him from picking a fight with S.T. like he really wanted. Maybe he was worth something after all.

"I don't know," he replied, his frustration palpable. "Haven't found them yet."

Whatever S.T. was doing with that door, he was ignoring it. The only thing keeping him from getting even more pissed was pretending the guy didn't exist.

The door wasn't budging, and the Barbie doll aura was covering everything, including the handle. He wasn't even sure he was leaving fingerprints on it.

"Look, man, this sucks. This sucks for all of us." There was angry and then there was crazy angry, and Raphael was gunning it for the boundary with the throttle wide open. "If you don't take a chill pill before breakfast, they're going to stick you in solitary all day. Then how are you going to be able to look for your brothers?"

"What are their names? Maybe I've met them." He hadn't seen any new angry assholes today, but they didn't need to be new arrivals.

At least the two of them were involved in their own issues for the most part to notice new scratches. ZEX was all too aware of how insane it sounded whenever he explained what was happening to him. He had trouble believing it himself, even when he felt another sting as something cut into him again.

"Are you sure they're here?" ZEX didn't see any harm in continuing the conversation. Perhaps it would calm the angrier human down some. "I'm the only person here from my..." He winced, and his skepticism about the entire scenario bled into his voice. "From my 'reality', I guess you could call it. Or, at least, I haven't met anyone here who knows reality as I know it." The thought that everyone else here was insane was far more comforting than the thought that he was. Everything he knew being false was a hard thing to swallow.

Speaking of which, he was somewhat curious... "If you aren't human, than what species are you? A Thraddash, maybe?" That was probably a potentially rude question, but if the human didn't know the word, it wouldn't matter. And if they did... well, he'd deal with that if it came up. Somehow he had a feeling it wouldn't.

"Solitary?" He could almost laugh, but settled for an arrogant smirk instead. "They're gonna hafta do a lot better than that."

Solitary only worked on people who did something wrong enough to let their guilt eat at them. Raph, on the other hand, was never wrong. Everybody else was. The last time someone locked him up in solitary, he just beat on the door 'til he got bored then waited for his bros to break him out. Really, there were worse things in life.

Then it was time to be confused again. These guys really knew how to lay on the questions. Was this supposed to be some kind of interview? It was making him seriously uncomfortable. Sure, these guys seemed to mean well, but they still had to prove they could really be trusted.

"And you wouldn't of met them 'cause we got taken at the same time. I don't get why you people keep askin' me that." All of this crap was making his head spin. The alternate reality thing wasn't as hard to swallow as the others probably thought it would be. Definitely wasn't the first time, probably won't be the last. But whether he was still on Earth or no, why the heck wouldn't he be sure his brothers got kidnapped? He was there. "So before we start playin' Twenty Questions, let me ask one first: If they ain't here, where the heck else could they be?"

"What year is it? They have a fucking time machine in the closet or something, man. Sure, fine, they grabbed them at the same time. They could have dropped them off here a week ago, or next Tuesday at tea-time."

It wasn't that fucking hard to understand. You didn't have to believe it to put together the picture. This guy wasn't a complete dumbass, he was just fixated. Obsessed. It'd eat him from the inside if he didn't learn to adulterate it with something. Chemical or psychological, didn't matter.

It was probably too much to hope that he was from a time when anything around here would impress him. S.T. could pull out the transporter ring, but being stuck in a crowded pantry with a would-be Avenging Angel and a twitchy alien.

Who was more twitchy than he'd been before. "Zex? You O.K.?" This corridor wasn't a warm fuzzy place to be even with the pastel mood lighting.

So touchy! Humans could be so sensitive, although ZEX reminded himself, he had said he wasn't human. Perhaps he was another species that had a shorter fuse when it came to anger. Entirely possible... perhaps he was a Thraddash after all, although he hadn't really answered his question.

"I just want to know so I can better help you." That should be placating enough. ZEX wasn't in the mood to get into a fight with the other not-a-human after all, although so far it didn't seem like anything he'd said had calmed him down any. "If they aren't here, they could still be... back where you came from." Or, they could come and visit with an entirely new set of memories, but ZEX didn't think that possibility would go over very well. "As I said, I'm the only one from reality- my reality here. As far as I know, the others are back home."

ZEX did gesture slightly at Taylor's statement. "And yes, there have definitely been some temporal anomalies involved here... most of the humans I've met here haven't even discovered interstellar travel! Much less encountered the Ur-Quan..." Still a hard thing to imagine. Both things had been fixtures of his life for decades.

The question, whoever, was a little more awkward. ZEX winced again as something dug at his neck, and he touched it gingerly. Still not entirely used to how long human necks were... "Oh, I've... well, I've been here before under a... less than ideal set of circumstances, and there are still some unpleasant side-effects from... what happened." Not that ZEX was trying too hard to think about it right now. "It could be that the proximity is aggravating them- it, somehow."

A million possibilities ran through Raphael's mind. Time travel... Did Renet have a hand in this? He swore he'd kill her if she did. Or maybe some Utrom hit the wrong button on his transmat again. But that didn't feel likely. Then what the shell were those wooden ninjas about? Did they really have something to do with it, or did all of this happen just out of the blue? It was starting to feel like someone found it funny to roll together every crazy experience of the last three years of his life and throw it in his face; make him deal with it alone.

That was the worst part. He was starting to entertain the idea that these bozos actually knew what they were talking about. Sure, they seemed to know a lot about the place, but that didn't mean he was gonna take their word on this. It wasn't just some friendly advice they were handing out, here. His brothers' lives were on the line. If they were here and he gave up on them now, who knew what could happen? They could still be off getting tortured somewhere, getting their skulls cracked open like this ZEX guy did, and here he was standing here being all philosophical and crud.

The idea made his chest ache even more than it already was. Every second he sat around talking with these morons was a second off the ticking clock. If things really were going screwy around here like ZEX and S.T. said, this could be their only chance for escape. If they don't find each other and find a way out before everything got fixed, they were probably screwed.

These guys were just trying to help, yeah, but that wasn't good enough. He had to see for himself. "You gotta understand I can't just take your word for this, all right? Maybe you're right. Maybe they ain't here. But I can't--" The words died in his throat. This was getting too close, too personal. He hoped the others could understand he wasn't mad at them. Just life in general, just the kind of crud he always landed in, just the fact that he was doubting himself. He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, the sinking dread that so easily turned to anger, but it was impossible. Growling, he turned back toward the door they came from. "I ain't givin' up, got it? So you guys can find your own way out. I'm done talkin'."

No more wasting time. Raph slipped back into the hallway and vanished without a trace.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1193305.html?thread=81196633#t81196633)]

Edited 2011-11-16 21:21 (UTC)

"Shit." S.T. had been paying more attention to Zex, who had that look. The one most of them had, the ones who ran rescue missions. PTSD, a real headshrinker might call it, or maybe just "shit happens", but he knew the feeling.

"C'mon." He raced after Raphael. Good as an excuse as any to blow this joint.

[to here]

When the floor popped back under his feet, Sam couldn't help spinning around, trying to gather his bearings. And also to make sure they, you know. Were in the right place, though the fact that he had room to move was a good sign.

The fact that Kibitoshin apparently hadn't expected them to make it through in one piece was, uh. Less good. Though Sam couldn't say he blamed him.

He glanced behind him to make sure Peter was still there, then squinted at the hallway. The whole institute looked like a badly retro-fied strip club with the pink glow.

"This is it, yeah."

Huh. It was pretty quiet, right? That was weird. There was always a mass of people up here. People and plenty of supernatural creatures crawling out of the woodwork. Especially if anyone had been taken tonight...Okay, so they took them at dinner. The institute hadn't lost control until after. Which meant anyone they took should've had their powers back.

Which meant there should be people trying to get out, people trying to get in, and a hell of a lot of exploded scientists. It should be crazy up here.

"Is it just me or is it kinda...empty?"

The way that they moved with Kibitoshin was much quicker and less jarring than how it had worked when he and Sam had gone through those doors that one night. It was still a little disorienting -- moving from one place to a completely different one in the space of a second was bound to be -- but Peter was pretty pleased with the result in the end.

That had been much more convenient than going up the stairs and working their way through the maze of hallways, after all. "Thanks," he breathed out to Kibitoshin.

The other two had established that they were in the right spot, which left Peter to wander down the hall in search of any sign of other patients. It was quiet, but that was always the case if you got here before the doors opened. It was still possible that there were people inside.

Peter clenched his jaw and then remembered yet another thing about that night at Kirby Plaza. There had been that blond woman who had gone after Sylar with the parking meter. After being near her, Peter had been able to give the serial killer a few super-powered punches of his own. Maybe...

He glanced back at his roommate and Kibitoshin and squared his shoulders. "Step back," he told them before moving up to one of the doors, grabbing for the knob. Just like always, it felt like it was reinforced, unable to be budged, and yet as Peter concentrated and really pulled, he realized that it was starting to wrench open.

"Guys," he called out, his tone bordering on excitement. The hinges started to squeak under the pressure and the door opened further. "Guys."

Both of them answered more or less normally, so at least he hadn't managed to traumatise them somehow. Hadn't happened yet, but you could never tell! Kibitoshin was just about ready to let a feeling of satisfaction creep in like someone turning up to a party they weren't entirely sure they'd been invited to join- and then Sam suddenly put some of the uneasiness he'd been feeling about this place into words and he froze, blinking.

He was right. There had been all sorts of people around here when they'd made their first crusade up here, either outside the hallway or already waiting for the doors to click open so that they could rescue their friends themselves. So where were they now? There was a chance that they'd been early, but if everyone had their powers back the advantage of being able to teleport up didn't really count for much.

"Maybe they're still coming up?" he suggested uncertainly, moving out of Peter's way as the man made for the door. "We might have missed them on the stairs or in the hallways, since we didn't come up that way." But even he didn't sound convinced; if they'd really moved here instantaneously they would have seen other people in the hallway downstairs at the very lea-

Peter's tone started him out of his thoughts: he sounded surprised, but not necessarily in the bad, there's-a-monster-right-behind-you way. It was the squeak that cemented it.

"Wait, wait, it's open?" he managed, turning to Peter with his mouth still hanging open and his brow knit in a curious Frankenstein's look of bewilderment, mild fear and shock. Then he thought about it. "Is there anyone in there?"

—Holy crap, okay. Sam's eyebrows went up.

Seriously, Christ, what else could Peter do? His roommate had basically spelled it out for him once, but watching it in action was another thing altogether. He was like a mishmash of all of Yellow Eyes's special kids thrown together in a blender. But without the, uh, homicidal bits.

Anyways. Even if the guy was freaking Superman now, dragging open doors leading to unknown supernatural dangers was never the safest idea. Sam slid into place, angled off to the side of the opening crack, weapon raised. Super strength and flying capabilities or not, a little backup never hurt. He gestured at Peter to angle off the other way as much as he could as he pulled. Standing dead-on was practically inviting trouble.

"Keep away from the front."

Though, yeah, gotta admit: sorta impossible not to hop onto Peter's train of curiosity, what with no one having ever pulled this off before. As far as he knew, at least. If there was anyone in there, they had to be blacked out or straight up dead not to notice a guy yanking the shit out of a door, but something said it was gonna be people-free.

Both Kibitoshin and Sam jumped to attention, which was good. Peter didn't know what was going to be inside, but it made sense to be cautious and so he was grateful for the fact that his roommate pulled up next to him with his gun at the ready. Not that they wanted to shoot any patients who might be stuck in there, but what if they came across one of the doctors?

Either way, the anticipation was making his heart pound so hard in his chest that it was almost painful. Peter let out a breath and then gave the door a final pull, one that allowed them to see inside.

With his flashlight pointed forward, he saw that the room was completely empty. There was an exam table with some lights propped over it, but otherwise it was abandoned. Peter realized that not all of these rooms got used every night, though, and so he moved on to the next door.

"Maybe the military didn't have a chance to bring them up," he hypothesized as he started to wrench the next one open. "Or the people taken got their powers back on the way and were able to escape." Both of those options were pretty good ones, though Peter wanted to open up a few more of the doors before he assumed anything. Good news was just too rare around here for him to accept it off the bat.

Kibitoshin breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, that was good to know, right? If there was no one in there, that meant that no one hand been tortured. It would have been pretty unlikely for whoever had been in that room to have just crawled away straight afterwards, considering the state the doctors here liked to leave people in once they were finished with them. They'd never have been able to stand, never mind get up, get out and lock the door behind them, all without leaving a trace.

Even so... looking at the still, silent room left open as Peter stepped towards the next door, the Kaioshin couldn't help but shiver. Couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be strapped down with those lights switched on in his eyes, unable to teleport or struggle or fight back, with the coldness of the table biting into his back. The pink glow only seemed to make things worse. He could only hope that if there had been someone in there they'd managed to get away like Peter suggested. Whatever the case, he certainly wasn't going to object to checking a few more rooms for the sake of thoroughness.

"I really hope you're right," he said anxiously, following Peter towards another door before suddenly being taken by a thought and moving down to the door next to it. "I'll check this one." This close together he'd be able to jump in if anything ambushed Peter- and the other way around, hopefully. Flexing his hand briefly, he made to pull it open by the handle.

Empty. Go figure. Sam thought about going inside, but Peter was already starting on the next door and Sam figured it'd be a bad idea to start splitting up now, even staying as close by as he was. This whole gig with the computer freakout and the glowing walls and exploding monsters—yeah, let's just say he wasn't feeling comfortable right now.

He moved with Peter, until Kibitoshin spoke up and then.

Wait, was everyone here just capable of supernatural strength? And teleporting. And flying. Peter obviously hadn't anticipated their abilities coming back when he'd said he needed Sam along for the firepower. Not that he was feeling...kinda out of place or anything. Much.

Maybe a little.

Well. He could still back them up. Since there was no way he could keep an eye on both doors at once and—call it a hunch—he had a feeling the rest would be empty, too, he opted to turn his attention to the stairwell instead. Just in case anything came flying up here. Those monsters in that hallway couldn't be the only ones roaming around. There was more back there than Sam had run into his entire time here. Where were they coming from?

God. Either way, hoping they didn't all rush out of the woodwork anytime soon. How fast could Kibitoshin teleport on demand?

So it looked like Kibitoshin had what it took to get these doors open, too. Peter wouldn't have pegged the guy as so powerful. He now had healing, teleporting, and super strength as part of his repertoire. While Peter could heal himself, he couldn't do the same for anyone else, so Kibitoshin definitely had him beat there.

Not that this was a competition, of course. If anything, Peter was just glad that Kibitoshin would be able to take care of Sam if he got injured.

Peter felt kind of bad for asking Sam along and then not actually having anything for him to do, but in the end he still felt better that there was someone there to keep an eye out. He got the next door open and found that it was just as pristine and empty as the one before it.

He moved past Kibitoshin to try one more, putting all of his strength into it and marveling at how easily it opened. Man, he'd forgotten just how handy all of these abilities had been. "Yeah," he said when he was faced with another empty space, "I think that whatever happened, no one made it up here tonight." Which was a good thing, of course, but that did leave them with the rest of the night and no plan.

Peter figured that they were a pretty powerful team at this point, though, so they should definitely do something.

The door gave way with a short burst of strength and inside-- Kibitoshin blinked. Empty. W-well, it wasn't as though he'd been frightened about what might have been lurking behind it, hidden behind table legs and drawers, tracing his scent, watching as his face appeared in the widening crack between the door and the frame and opening its great, gleaming jaws in expectation and drooling before slowly, slowly stalking forward on clawed feet to...

... ahem.

Kibitoshin hastily withdrew himself from the doorway with a jabbered, "Nothing here!", flushing a little at the fact that his heart was still pounding from what had essentially been a mildly unpleasant daydream. Nightdream. Whatever. The point was that he was letting it all go to his head.

Which was silly, considering where they stood now. He only had to remember the feeling of flexing against the door just a moment before, that gentle rush of power in his forearm that hinted at something greater and came with a pleasantly buzzy little adrenalin rush. No one was hurt up here and he and Peter could both probably fight seriously, and Sam- well, who knew what Sam was capable of! He was probably playing it cool, like Piccolo might have done in the same situation.

"It looks like it," he agreed, turning to face the two other men. "Which kind of makes this pointless. But I'm sure there are still people who need help out there somewhere. If my senses were any stronger I might have been able to pinpoint someone exactly, but..." He flapped a hand helplessly. "Maybe we should just wing it?"

Well. That was a bust. Sam guessed he couldn't say that if they were gonna have a bust, it might as well be one of this kind, where, apparently, no one was in trouble at all.

He finally tucked his weapon at his back again, figuring there was no point in hanging onto it right now while they figured out what to do. He decided not to think too hard about Kibitoshin's implication that he had Spidey-senses regarding people in trouble.

He chewed on a hangnail, thinking. Honestly, he'd have liked to use those teleporting powers to see how much distance they could put between here and there, but there was a small chance of not being able to return, and. No way. Not leaving his brother behind. Helping people was always on the table, of course. The problem was that Sam a) wasn't sure where the hell they were even supposed to start and b) call it a hunch, but he had a feeling not that many people were gonna need help tonight. His major concern were all the non-supernatural folk. Monsters weren't the only dangerous things around here. If Lelouch, for instance, could do what he did while restrained, what could he do with his abilities no longer suppressed? How many people would get hurt tonight, not from any giant cats, but from each other?

"We should head back downstairs, at least. Seems like that's where the most damage's been happening, anyway."

Heading back downstairs worked for Peter, and if they were lucky they would be able to head out and over the wall and then see where they could go from there. Still, he knew that actually trying to escape wasn't going to happen, at least for him. There was no way that he was going to leave this place without Claire. Her healing had to be back in full force by now, so if she'd left her room she was probably fine, if somewhat traumatized. There wasn't much he could do about that, now.

"All right, works for me. I guess we'll go back down the old-fashioned way. If there are people out there who we can help along the way..." Now, chances were most people were handling themselves just fine. With the way those hallways had been stained with blood (and not human blood, either), that was clear.

They were going to wing it, though. Peter went through a lot his life that way, so it wasn't going to bother him now. Taking a glance back at the doors they'd opened, he realized that this would at least let anyone who followed them know that there was no point in wasting their time here.

Shrugging his shoulders, he led them down the hall and through the door. It felt weird to be walking through it from this side, that was for sure.

[To here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1193305.html?thread=81282393#t81282393).]

[from here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1193043.html?thread=81144147#t81144147), timeskipping everybody]

The corridor seemed like any other hallway in the Institute, except smaller and lined with doors on either side. From here, Ema was lost; she never left her room when her own experiment happened, opting to instead wait for a rescue that never arrived because of some experiment Dr. Landel was running. Just the memory of it made her shudder a bit.

At least there seemed to be less carnage in here. Ema dropped her arm and allowed herself to breathe a bit more easily. "Mr. Javert? Mr. Threepwood? What can you see?" There was no need to announce her inability to see much detail in the poor light, although her question did so implicitly. Mr. Javert already knew and would tell Mr. Threepwood if he deemed it important enough.

So many came and went. So many only trounced around, opened doors, looked for people who would not be found, and then disappeared back into the ether. The creature didn't care about them, however. They were swarmed already by the lesser abominations of this prison and it didn't want to waste its time squabbling for the meager pickings that were coming through. Besides, this creature was smart, it knew how to wait, how to bide its time - and it knew the smell of death better than anything else here.

When the girl called out, the monster stirred. It knew the sound of timidity and the uncertain footing that came with it. The sound of prey roused it from its slumber and it heaved forward on silent legs. Though it stood only the height of a full grown man, it was a monstrosity. The snake's body gave it agility, flexibility and reach, while the tail ended in a scorpion's deadly poisoned stinger. The spider's legs were fragile, certainly, but they lifted the creature from the ground, allowing it to move silently, creeping along the ceiling in the darkness. Most grotesque was its lack of a recognizable face. At the end of the long neck, where a snake's head should have been, was nothing but a gigantic open leech-like mouth, filled with jagged rows of sharpened teeth; teeth meant to cut a human in two. And reaching out toward the girl and her unhappy companions were two tentacle arms, blackened from years under water, suction cups replaced with the strong curved talons of the necrits and the aquilas.

It would feed tonight on one of them. It didn't care who, and it would chase - it would chase forever if need be - until it fed. Saliva dripping from its open mouth, the creature dropped from the ceiling, the talons and claws of the arms slashing down at the group blindly.

Guybrush stepped into the corridor after Ema, scanning the area nonchalantly with his flashlight. It looked about the same as the last time he was there patrolling the hallway with Javert. "Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the stuff we've already seen that's out of the ordinary," Guybrush answered, slowly working his light around the hall. "Doors, more doors—"

A drip came from the ceiling. Rather than head for the source, he spotlighted the pool the drip created. "Um, what looks like a puddle of slime on the floor..."

He trailed off as he was sure he'd seen something move in the darkness, but when he turned his light toward it, it was no longer there. "Shadows that apparently move—"

His light caught it again, landing on what looked liked a barbed tentacle. Fear began to leak into his voice. "Something that says this is a bad idea, and..."

The abomination was finally illuminated, if only for a second. Panic filled the Mighty Pirate™'s veins. "Holy mother of Bobbin Threadbare, what is that!?"

His question was met with no answer but the creature dropping from its perch above them, the aforementioned tentacles coming down to a strike. His hook shot forward, making an impulsive grab for Ema's arm in front of him to yank her backward. "Look out!"

Javert let Guybrush do the talking, preferring to scan the hallway himself. The faint pink glow emanating from the walls provided some illumination, but not nearly enough; he found himself squinting to make out anything in the darkness.

Nothing. The hallway was apparently devoid of life; not even a patient just passing through. There was no sign of S.T. or Peter, both of whom would have been here if they knew anyone had been taken. Either Javert was early--highly unlikely, given he'd had to backtrack to pick up Ema--or the others had determined it was pointless to wait and had decided to leave.

"We're wasting our time," he murmured, just as Threepwood's flashlight caught a brief movement, something writhing near the ceiling. Bats, perhaps? He switched his flashlight to his left hand and drew the saber with his right. It stood to reason there would be something here, considering the entrails that decorated the hallway outside. Busy night--

And then he caught a glimpse of the creature proper, and as Threepwood pulled Ema back, Javert lunged forward, the saber scything out in front of him in a wide arc, meeting the claws and talons with a bone-jarring screech. "Get back!"

It was perhaps a testament of how long he'd been here that the reaction was entirely instinctive. Force it to keep its distance for now. They could worry about what in hell the thing was later.

Out of the three of them, Ema was the one who noticed the creature last. Fortunately, Mr. Threepwood had already pulled her back (with a hook!) when it finally occurred to her that she needed to react. From what she could make out in the bits of light that hit it from their flashlights, this creature was more chimera than anything natural. It was just leftover bits from every horror monster she'd ever imagined. While terrified, Ema couldn't say she was especially surprised something this awful existed here. Not when taken with other evidence.

Mr. Javert stood his ground, engaging the creature with a sword. The whole scenario stung something familiar--an attack, a savior, a fight in the darkness where she can't help--but she did her best to swallow her panic. She wasn't fourteen. It wasn't going to end the same way it did last time.

Heeding the order, Ema moved a few paces behind Mr. Threepwood and made sure her hold on the kindling ax Mr. Javert gave her was firm. If it got too close to her, she could at least make an attempt to defend herself. "Be careful!"

It was obvious advice, but Ema was compelled to give it anyway.

Missed. The reaching limbs and hungry mouth had missed the target, but only because the companions had been alert. Now the creature had lost the element of surprise and while most would lament, the leftover did not. Two of the humans scuttled away, but one brave and foolish soul jumped forward. Something metallic struck the talons and the leftover zeroed in on the patient's position. Tall, strong, daring - this one would make a good meal if the leftover could just overpower whatever weapons it had.

The force of the blow striking off the talons caused the creature to scuttle back a step or two. It turned toward Javert, mouth open wide and the faint light in the room made it seem as if it were smiling, as if pleased by this development. The snake's body gave it a longer reach than most would assume and the tail curled up behind it, tipped by a scorpion's stinger, and launched an attack. Whipping the stinger forward, the leftover struck at the last place it had felt Javert in, swinging its clawed arms in a wide horizontal arc just in case it missed. If it couldn't find Javert, it would find the others then.

"Look out!"

"Get back!"

"Be careful!"

Meaningless words. Useless. Camaraderie was foolish when survival was key. The monster would feed tonight. It had to feed. Someone had to die.

As Ema backed away, Guybrush used his flashlight to examine the hodgepodge of pieces that made up the creature before them. None of it made sense- it was a mess of limbs and teeth, tentacles and talons, all cobbled together to create a horrifying monstrosity that left the Mighty Pirate™ gawking and feeling not as mighty as his title implied. Apprehension mounted him as he watched Javert bravely face the Nightmarish Being of Literally Indescribable Terror, and he felt his legs find their strength. Right! They were the Search & Rescue, and while he wasn't sure this sort of thing was in the contract, he'd said only moments before that he'd follow the inspector into the heart of danger. It was time to make good on that promise, even if it was much sooner than he'd ever expected.

Steeling himself, Guybrush looked through his inventory to see what he had that could take out such a beast.

Unless the monster was attracted to candy or was in need of a court-appointed attorney, Elaine's sword was the obvious choice for battle. As he pulled his beloved's blade from his pocket, Guybrush barely caught sight of the monster's clawed arm coming his way. Thinking with his survival instincts rather than any others, he plastered himself against the wall to avoid the monster's swing.

"Well, Javert?" he called. "You're the most experienced one of us! Ever seen anything like this before?"

Even a young man would have been hard-pressed to avoid both attacks, and Javert had not considered himself young for a number of years now. He stumbled back as his sword slid off of the creature's claws: enough time and distance to escape the stinger as it whistled past, tearing through his greatcoat sleeve but thankfully nothing else--but not enough to recover before the second blow struck.

The creature's claws raked his upper arm and the better half of his chest, drawing an audible hiss from Javert as he retreated clumsily. His attachment to his old clothes served him well, as they usually did; the cuts were deep, but would have been far deeper without the greatcoat and frock coat in the way. Nevertheless, it was damnably inconvenient.

"Sadly, no," he returned through clenched teeth. "It seems experience has little effect on this creature. I suggest we make ourselves scarce."

The illumination of Mr. Threepwood's flashlight beam was at once welcome and very, very much not wanted. While it was to their advantage to see exactly what they were up against, the creature proved to be a horror that defied science, ethics, and common sense. It was just a collection of random pieces haphazardly patched together and somehow given just enough life to be able to move.

Mr. Threepwood moved in, pulling a sword out of his pocket (how was he doing that?). The monster, in turn, unleashed an twofold attack on Mr. Javert. Without even realizing she'd done it until the sound hit her ears, Ema yelped when she saw the monster's claws tear across Mr. Javert's arm and chest. She took a few more instinctive steps backward, trying to put as much distance between herself and the monster as possible--even if it did leave her stupidly open from every other angle.

"I-I think Mr. Javert's right. We... we can't fight something like this!"

Nothing but cloth and the barest feel of skin and muscle. Not deep enough to kill and not nearly deep enough for the stinger to hit its mark. The other swing missed and the leftover hissed, pulling the stinger back. More words fell upon ears that could not comprehend, but one thing was certain - one of them was bleeding. The leech's mouth could taste blood on the air and that was all the creature needed to hone in on the most likely prey. The bravest were always the first to die and he would be no exception.

Surging forward, the creature began striking wherever it thought the patients were. Clawed tentacles raked through the air, swinging blindly around, looking to connect to something - anything. As it moved the leech's mouth let out a bloodcurdling shriek, the scorpion's tail rising up behind it and twitching as it waited for a sign. All it needed was one touch and it would strike, aided by the extra length of the snake's body. Fast and strong, the abomination advanced, slashing at everything in its path.

In most situations, Guybrush would have been leery about taking orders from an officer of the law, given that he was a pirate and by nature followed the direction the winds took him; however, factoring in that this was the experienced Inspector Javert who was giving the orders— a man who had already proven himself the more level-headed and practical of the two of them when faced with danger— and that the hallways of the institute had no winds to guide him, Guybrush decided to follow the elder man's advice without question or quip for a change.

"Aye aye, Inspector!" Guybrush said as he took a swing at one of the tentacles as it neared him. It was moving quickly enough that he missed- he ducked as it flew over his head, straightening up once it had passed. "Just be careful of these tentacles! If they hit you, it'll probably OOF!"

The same tentacle he'd ducked under came back for a second pass, landing sharply against the middle of his back- the claws cut through the thin fabric of the shirt, tearing through his skin and muscles cleanly. The impact knocked him to the ground, where he skidded a few feet from the force. He came to a stop along the opposite wall, now closer to Ema than Javert. It was there he finished his sentence: "... Hurt. Ow."

Another wild swing of the tentacle nearest Javert. This time he was prepared, and he flung himself aside in time. He forced himself to concentrate, attempting to shut out everything else: the creature's ear-splitting shrieks, the the feel of blood trickling down his side.

It was fast. Too fast, by the looks of it. It advanced more quickly than he would have expected of something of its bulk, and its few half-misses only seemed to have enraged it further. They were too far down the hall as it was; any attempt to run for the doors would be over before it began. He didn't need any powers to see that.

He nearly laughed, except that the motion pulled unbearably at the cuts across his chest. It stood to reason the creatures would be out in full force tonight. Their bad luck for venturing into something meant for someone considerably more powerful than they were.

In that moment, the decision was as natural as it was instantaneous. "Enough time-wasting, Threepwood. Take Mlle. Skye and run. I'll be right behind you." The tentacle came whirling around again, and this time he lashed out, swinging the blade more like a broadsword than a saber, trying to hack it off. At the very least, he would keep its attention. "And find a healer! These damned cuts sting like the blazes."

Now Mr. Threepwood had been hit by the creature. Ema ran to the pirate to (carefully!) help him to his feet, noting with no small amount of panic that he was bleeding from the slices across his back. Of all the supplies she had shoved into her bag, bandages (or even some gauze pads) were not among them. She made a mental note to correct this the next time they went to town.

Not that there was anything she could do about it now. Right now, they had to run--Mr. Javert included. It was clear from the beginning that they didn't stand a chance against this creature, and further evidence only further supported that hypothesis. "Are you sure? We can't just leave you!"

One miss, another miss...there! The blind flailing finally yielded something of worth and the leftover felt claws rake through cloth and flesh. It turned its bulky weight in that direction, but the prey moved even as the creature launched another attack. The unseen patient was thrown by the force of the blow and the stinger only struck thin air, further enraging the monster. It screeched and swept the snake's tail where it had last felt Guybrush, spitting in that direction until--

There.

A painful slash at one of its arms. A hacking move that cut deep into its flesh and spilled its blackened blood upon the floor. The pain was immense and the it screamed again, the mouth flipping instantly to face that direction, but the pain was also good. It meant it knew where to focus. It could feel where the patient was and now it knew where to strike. Even as the blade sliced through one tentacle, the leftover struck with the scorpion's stinger where it knew its assailant had to be. The remaining three bladed arms swung forward like a trap, meant to ensnare him and hold him still until the leech could bite his head off.

Guybrush pushed off the ground, trying to get to his knees. Blood trailed around his abdomen and chest, dripping into the front of his shirt as it collected at his stomach. A groan escaped him as he braced himself on Ema, uttering a word of gratitude under his breath as he made it to his feet Javert was right about those cuts stinging, to say the very least.

Leaning on the wall, he looked over his shoulder at the ongoing fight: the Nightmarish Being of Literally Indescribable Terror hissed and screeched as it faced off against the inspector, the man standing tall as a wall defending them against the inevitable. While usually a source of optimism, Guybrush knew a grim situation when it was unfolding before his eyes.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to face- the beast, or Javert if he didn't follow commands. "Right. Just don't do anything I would do, and you should be fine!" He got his hook around Ema's arm to pull her along, only to hear the creature howl again behind them. In spite of both his better judgment and the orders given to him to high-tail it out of there, he hesitated, looking back.

Javert's attempt to divert the thing's attention away from Threepwood and Ema had worked perhaps too well. The blade had lodged fast in the thrashing tentacle, and his efforts to pull it free meant left him completely open to the creature's next attack.

He had fought a scorpion once, a mere few days into his stay here. It had been the size of a large cat, but even the stinger on that had been small in comparison to the one that struck him now, like a thunderbolt. The shock of it left him reeling. Only blind luck allowed him to wrench the saber free at last as he stumbled back, and only blind luck permitted him to escape one of the bladed arms, which hurtled by overhead. It did not permit him to avoid the other two.

The tentacles curled themselves about his middle, tearing indiscriminately through cloth and flesh and bone. He hardly understood what had happened to him at first; only that he had been hit, and that he was curiously incapable of moving. Then sensation returned to him. Ignorance had been bliss. He had heard before that pain sharpened the senses. He would dearly have liked to find the dolt who had said that and switch places with him, but the fact was that three things were crystal clear in his mind.

The first was that he was going to die. This did not surprise him as much as it should have. Javert was a man well acquainted with death, particularly his own. Even if he had been able to ignore the pulsing warmth of his own blood seeping through his clothes, there was an undeniable familiarity to his darkening vision and the leaden feeling in his limbs, as if this was merely some sort of completion, some end to what he had sought to do weeks ago. In truth, he was surprised he had lasted even this long, outmatched if not outwitted by most other residents of the Institute.

The second observation came as more of a shock: He did not particularly want to die. He was unsure where this sudden rebellion had come from. He supposed he had spent the duration of his confinement here so preoccupied with other matters that the business with Valjean had simply become unimportant to him. In a place like this, as much as it pained him to admit it outright--and when else was he going to admit it except now?--the law seemed to take a back seat to other, more pressing matters. He had not thought it possible, but it was no longer something he could avoid. In some indefinable way, this place had changed him, and it was far too late to do anything about the realization.

The third was the only one that mattered at all now: He could still feel the saber in his hands, though the sensation was fading rapidly and he knew he had seconds at most. Pain was good, he decided; it meant he was still capable of movement. He refused to succumb to some disgraceful end. And if the pirate had any sense left in him, he would retain his innate sense of self-preservation and run.

He would have said something--anything--but he had very little breath left. Instead he forced his shaking arms to hold the blade upright and waited, blood singing in his ears like the roaring of so much water.

As Mr. Threepwood hesitated on following Mr. Javert's order, so did Ema. Her expression of uncertainty in leaving the latter behind was never answered; instead, she got to watch him be attacked and mortally wounded by the horror that had found them in this hallway. What little she could make out was terrible enough, with the giant stinger and swinging blades and hooked tentacles ensnaring the man and holding him still while ripping into him.

Worse, she could hear the tearing of flesh and breaking of bone. And she could smell the blood, both of Mr. Javert and of the creature. It took everything she had not to get sick right then and there.

The way this had unfolded was like that night in Chief Gant's office two years ago. Mr. Javert was about to die in order to save her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to help him. She couldn't even attempt to break up the fight, given that this creature would more likely kill her than succumb to being shoved over. Really, the only course of action would be to follow his last request and get the hell out of there.

There was a problem with that course of action, however.

Ema couldn't bring herself to move and leave him alone there.

The fact that she was screaming in fear, (emotional) pain, and preemptive grief didn't help things, either.

Even after spending the past two years trying to train herself to react more effectively to a situation in which she--and other people--were in danger, all of that effort was amounting to almost nothing at the moment. The emotional burden was too much, and it was a miracle in and of itself that she hadn't fainted as her body went practically catatonic. If she was to get away, she was going to need a shock to her system. Hopefully, Mr. Threepwood was able to keep himself together well enough to provide exactly that.

Night 59: Disciplinary Therapy Corridor

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