NIGHT 64: MEDICAL WING HALL

[envy_the_sinners]

_{[From here]}

Looking around, Scar wasn't quite sure what to expect upon this returning visit to the medical wing. It was silent, for now. Scar shined his light around each corner as he moved silently through the room, ready for something to jump out at him at any moment. He wasn't sure of what to expect, but he held his scalpel at the ready with his free hand. It was feeble protection at best, but Scar was a sitting duck without his alchemic arm.

He still wasn't sure if he would actually want it back, though.

Comments

[envy_the_sinners]

Scar kept his eyes on Loki as he approached, lowering himself to a ready position.

You meat heads are all the same.

It nearly sent Scar over the edge. He was beyond reasoning with himself that picking this fight could very well get him killed. Somewhere, deep down, he knew that Loki had no idea that Scar had spent his life cast aside as a stupid savage. But Scar did not care. This man knew exactly how to work the Ishbalan into a fit of rage. He was doing him a favor. It made Scar sick.

He growled as Loki spoke, lashing out at him once again, this time leading himself with the scalpel. Scar wouldn't let another uppity bastard taunt him. He couldn't take it anymore.

[complicatedliar]

So predictable and not entertaining at all. You'd think he would have learned by now, Loki thought. Only this one wasn't terribly bright. In fact, he was sort of an intellectual black hole, when you came down to it. Loki would be lucky if he didn't come out of this encounter actually dumber for it, just because of the proximity.

Scar's scalpel sliced through another illusion.

Behind him, Loki went for the hamstrings, curved blade flashing down.

Too bad he wasn't allowed to kill.

[envy_the_sinners]

Another strangled grunt escaped Scar's throat as Loki's knife sliced deeply into his legs. He fell to his knees once again, this time out of pain rather than loss of balance. His grip on his flashlight and scalpel fumbled when he landed, leaving him unarmed and helpless for a moment. Sweat trailed down his temples as he fumbled in the poor lighting for the tiny knife.

Regaining himself, Scar tried to jump to his feet. He knew Loki would be on top of him within seconds, but his legs burned when he tried to stand. The Ishbalan pushed himself up with his arms, teeth grit and brow furrowed against the pain. He turned once again to face he other man, completely clueless as to where he actually was. His balance was terrible, the muscles in the back of his legs rendered useless as he leaned forward slighty to ease the pressure. There was no way he could fight like this.

[complicatedliar]

Loki slowly walked around Scar, footsteps measured, just out of lunging distance. "Tell me, are you ever going to not fall for that?" he asked, sounding amused. "If you were any more predictable I'd wind you up and call you a clock."

A dagger, two curved blades with a hilt between them, dripping red in the dim light, hung easily in his hand.

But yes, there was the purpose he had here. "You have two options now, my dear meat head. You can either crawl your way out into the hall and hope someone has pity on you before things that like blood smell a good meal, or I suppose you could crawl the other direction. At which point I'll pin you to the floor like a disturbingly ugly butterfly, and then you'll have to listen to me call you names all night as you slowly bleed out."

He laughed. "Choose one. It matters not to me which."

[envy_the_sinners]

As soon as Scar tried to move, his legs gave out and he landed hard on his hands and knees. He was losing too much blood, and the gashes in his legs had rendered them useless. The Ishbalan said nothing in response to Loki's taunts, his hands curled to fists as he stared at the floor. He was furious and dizzy and broken, but most of all, he was humiliated. Loki had bested him so easily. Loki would always best him in everything, and he would always manage to make Scar feel like dirt while doing so.

The drive he had felt as he left his room only minutes previously was all but gone.

Scar made his way to the door he had just come in through like an abused dog, blood still running down his legs and back. His clothes were caked with it. He would not give Loki the pleasure of watching him die.

_{[To here]}

[complicatedliar]

Loki watched Scar go, a slow, amused chuckle his only comment at the man's choice. The better of the two presented, really, so he must have had a stray neuron bouncing around in his otherwise hollow skull.

He made no attempt to clear up the blood now smeared across the floor. The better to excite paranoia, which in turn made his job easier.

He wrapped himself in invisibility and waited, calculating twenty digit prime numbers in his head to pass the time. Hopefully he wouldn't be kept waiting long.