Night 66: Main Hallway, 1-West

[dualistic]

[From here.]

That hadn't taken long. So much so that it looked like he was the first person to make it this far. Harvey took a moment to scan the hall with his flashlight, including near the stairs, but he didn't see (or hear) much of anything. It was the sort of thing that set him on edge.

Since he couldn't do much else, he leaned himself against the wall by the stairs and then grabbed for his gun, holding it near his side as he waited. Normally he didn't take the weapon out unless he planned to shoot it, but when there was a possibility that some transformed patient might come barreling down the halls in the next few seconds, he wanted to take precaution.

Hopefully Scott and Sangamon would haul ass over here before all hell started to break loose. If things got too hairy, Harvey was ready to make a run for it on his own. That was the logical thing to do.

[Waiting for S.T.]

Comments

[somesoulsearching]

Aiming at the light had been instinct only, a response to a break the darkness - something had to be causing it. The mummy had attacked for that reason alone, knowing nothing of what he was after or if it would be what he wanted.

He felt the hit vibrating through his blade as it caught a moment against a human arm. A man, and maybe more by the shouting voices. And blood, some of which he took with him after the man pulled back and the mummy's movement halted.

With his blade now drawn, his initial speed was lost, however his patience had seemed to return now that he'd struck. He was slow to recover from the attack and even slower to return his attention to the two, choosing to observe his dirtied sword instead. His empty sockets somehow stared as the blood dripped slowly from the tip before he swung it against the humans again - setting the blade far more purposefully time.

That was what he wanted.

[toxicspiderman]

Mummy face, Institute sweats. Not as weird as Harvey taking his bandages off at night and letting cheek muscles flap in the germ-filled breeze. But trying to kill them made the answer obvious.

"Zombie chew toy or superflu, pick one. Just do it quickly before Captain Trips here gets a lucky hit in." The guy was staring (if you could call it staring without eyeballs) at the blood on his sword like it was the gateway to Nirvana. Or dinner.

Or he was high as a kite and always looked like this. It was possible.

Aside from using broom handles to re-enact lightsaber fights, S.T. didn't know a damn thing about swordfighting, so instead he went with the assumption that the guy didn't have enough functioning brain cells to realize that S.T. was trying to hit him over the head with the pipe.

[dualistic]

The thing staring at its sword like it might have the answers to all of life's questions was the only reason that Harvey was able to regain his balance and maneuver out of the way before it attacked again.

Sangamon had a point. With the face covered in bandages (and what hid under them looked like a skull, a sight that made his blood run cold), it was pretty clear that it was either a zombie or one of the transformed patients. Seeing how no one had really had much reason to be around Doyleton lately, the latter seemed more likely.

He hadn't expected to get caught up in this, especially when it didn't even involve them. Sangamon stepped forward to attack, but Harvey didn't know what they were waiting for. They had an easy way out of here. "Let's just put on the bracelets!" he yelled to Sangamon as he clutched his bleeding arm with the opposite hand. At this point, he didn't care if Scott was running late. It seemed idiotic to stay here and fight a losing battle when they had a getaway option burning holes in their pockets.

[somesoulsearching]

He may have seen the attack coming through the darkness. Or maybe it was because he hadn't that he was soon missing a chunk of rotten flesh and bone where one of his eye had been. Either way, the mummy did little in response to the hit except take it.

His head cracked with the force of the human's attack, the pipe caving in his skull down to an empty socket. The hit thrust his head off at an impossible angle, possibly snapping a decaying bone somewhere in his neck. By the sound, any number of things could have broken besides the obvious, though it made little difference. The mummy couldn't feel pain and likely wouldn't have cared if it had possessed the ability.

Yet he still managed to moan with the pipe lodged in it's skull. The kind of moan that, while clearly reflecting a lacking mental capacity, somehow managed to resonate with faint traces of annoyance or even anger of some sort. A zombie kind of moan.

With no blood shed a second time and the human so close, the mummy stabbed his sword out wildly, aiming low as he looked for a further hit. More blood, more tearing flesh. He would get it here.

[toxicspiderman]

The guy's skull crunched like a pumpkin under Roscommon's beat-up station-wagon. And stuck. S.T. yanked. Bits came loose, but the pipe didn't. Harvey had the right idea. He let go of the pipe and grabbed for Harvey's shoulder.

His other hand went into his back pocket. His fingers hit the ring first. It was as good an option as any. He ran it up the zipper on his jeans like a match, and the garnet crumbled.

Just as the sword finally found something other than air. It was a technicality at best, but it counted. Three of them disappeared, leaving only a few splatters on the floor to show that anyone had been there.

[to here]