Night 68: M11-M20 Hallway

[forsworn]

Kratos grimaced as Landel gave his usual little speech to begin the night. Having kept a close eye on the board, he hadn't failed to notice the influx of notes subtly telling of another death, another person that had succumbed despite all the advances they'd made in finding a cure. It was frustrating, and it hurt: he had contributed to that influx himself, killing Sora in self-defense the other night. Truth be told, he had been utterly useless the past two days, and unfortunately, he couldn't say that tonight would be the night where he'd turn things around--well, perhaps it would be, if he could actually accomplish what he wanted to do. That would be something to be satisfied about.

Neither of his old uniforms tonight; Kratos chose instead the old military gear left over from Aguilar's tenure, careful as he tugged one of the gloves on over his still-healing hand. Without the bulk of the Key Crest, it fit far more easily, but the victory meant nothing. At the very least, though, the long sleeves of the shirt and the glove served to hide the bandage from prying eyes.

He gave a slight nod to his roommate before turning to leave. Time to find Tsurugi.

[to here]

Comments

[stop_the_rain]

Did it never stop?

Murphy lay on his bed, hands behind his head, staring at the dark ceiling even after the lights were out and he was alone in the darkness. The memories, the fake memories, were still there. He didn't believe them anymore but they were there anyway. Memories of his son. His teenage son. His wife. His family. In those memories they were as real as the clothes on his back. A son that had never died, a wife that never left...

And oh God, how he'd treated Gabe. The way he'd been cold, afraid...

Though now he had a hell of a lot of questions for the other guy regarding what he'd seen the night before.

He was slow in leaving his room. He didn't even know why he was, what he was doing. He just knew he hated these people, hated them for the invasion of his mind and heart and soul. He felt as though he had been raped, his most intimate wounds torn open and abused...

He felt the old rage burning. The stupid, blind rage. He needed to lash out. He needed to exorcise it. The ex-con took his desk chair - he idly wondered if they'd stop giving him one - and his flashlight and headed out.

There was bound to be something out there he could beat to an unrecognizable pulp.

[to here]

M16

[girlsandgadgets]

Though feeling better than he had the night before, Edgar still felt sluggish as he gathered his equipment for the night, the painkillers in his system wearing on him. He'd been reluctant to take them at all, debating whether it was a fair trade: some of his senses to dull the pain that coursed through his body. The stitches across his collar and shoulder ached sharply, but they were nothing compared to the burns on his hands, every moment the bandages touched them agonizing. Worse was how much he needed them, and how the bandages and the wounds beneath inhibited his every action.

While the pain was numbed, it was only a minor effect- it would wear off before the night was over. He needed to move quickly. Shoving his supplies into his bag, he pulled on his coat and slung the sack over his shoulder, adjusting the strap before grabbing his shovel. With any luck, they'd get farther than they had before, and he'd be of more use than playing watchdog to a sick woman. Not that he ever minded keeping his eyes on a beautiful woman, of course— he often had trouble doing otherwise— but to be so injured and to have accomplished so little since Locke's death reminded him just of how helpless they really were.

If there was one thing he refused to believe, it was that there was no escape, that there was nothing to be done about Landel. There had to be something- they just hadn't found it yet.

Tonight then, he thought. Tonight.

[To here.]

M12

[oyaji]

[From here]

Wild Tiger didn't hesitate or bother gauging his surroundings as he sprinted down the hallway toward his partner's room. Barnaby's wrath was equally on par with any monster he might encounter, so he didn't see any reason to be dissuaded by some whiny ghosts or whatever the hell Landel employed in this place to terrorize civilians.

Though, as much as he hated to admit it, he was a bit disappointed that he didn't encounter anyone in need of help. He was late no matter what, but at least saving someone and incapacitating a monster was a better excuse than "Uhh I somehow slept all damn day for no reason." Yeah, the latter didn't sound too good. But, of course, that was what he was stuck with. Taking another deep breath, he stopped in front of his partner's door and knocked. "Yo, Bunny!" he shouted, trying to sound more cheerful. The former hero figured the contradiction in his true mood would somehow confused Barnaby right along with it and somehow, like, neutralize his anger?

Ugh, he was in such deep shit.

When no one answered him, he worried the young man was more than just pissed. Was he using some kind of ignoring tactic to make him sweat it out? Well, it was working. "Bunny~! I'm sorry~! I didn't mean to take forever! Can I come in, please?" Again, when he received no answer, Wild Tiger scratched his chin anxiously and decided to brave the churning water by letting himself in.

M13

[doctor_voodoo]

Facilier was in a stormy mood during dinner, his whole body practically prickled from the sharpened anxiety pulsing through his veins. He could barely wait for the doors to unlock. He had lost far too much time to prevent the other patients from curing themselves. If he failed to uphold his deal with Landel...

The witch doctor clenched his jaw tightly, unable to face the concept of losing his Shadow powers once more. He couldn't survive without it... He had to get those five targets killed off!

Of course, it was all up to Facilier to do all the dirty work by himself, as usual! Mr. Grease Head Lingormr was unreachable so far. Facilier would have called upon that silly but powerful Lee to help, but Facilier knew the ninja's foolish hero streak was sure to get in the way of his plans. No, if he wanted the job done right, he had to do it himself.

Facilier didn't bother to change into his familiar garb. If he was going to deflect patients from entering the green house, he had to reduce all suspicion as much as possible. The last thing he needed was to become recognized in the scene of the crime and have some busy bodies get in on his business!

Before leaving his room, all the Bokor took was his flashlight, a piece of dark cloth to act as a make-shift mask and his cane. With his Shadow powers still fully accessible to him, he could surely scare off any fools daring to take those damn flowers from the conservatory. He just had to get there before they did...

[To here.]