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damned_institute2007-12-02 07:29 pm
damn-legends.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2007-12-02 07:29 pm
Nightshift 28: Dark Outer Grounds
[From here]
Apart from the anaemic moonlight, it was pitch-black, and the weight of the darkness pressed down on him, exaggerated the blindfolded absence of that sixth sense they'd given him. He was amazed at how much he'd come to rely on it, but then he realised; he centred his life around using whatever he was given without thinking twice.
He was thankful for the cold of the night - he'd always been fascinated with cold places, cold things, and this was an uncharacteristic one dog night in a place where you should only need a blanket. He was quite substantially dressed thanks to that nurse, but the bite of the wind through his arms and against his bare face was comforting. The cold raised your heart rate - in theory, he should be better prepared for the fight he was waiting for.
Damn Axel. Cursing him with ideas that he knew were probably right.
Wasn't it a bit too coincidental that his sixth sense chose now to flake out?
Momentarily, he sneezed in the cold, strangely paranoid about the fraction-of-a-second loss of vision. He idly recalled an old game he'd seen Otacon play. Maybe the reason he couldn't sense anything was because they'd filled the air with SNOW-9. He wouldn't put it past them to use something like that.
The only thing that kept him from heading back was the fact that paranoia was better than confirmed danger. There couldn't be anything out here worse than there was in the hospital. He suspected that the bus incident hadn't gone entirely to plan, and that meant they weren't omniscient.
And that, he decided, meant they had a chance.
Apart from the anaemic moonlight, it was pitch-black, and the weight of the darkness pressed down on him, exaggerated the blindfolded absence of that sixth sense they'd given him. He was amazed at how much he'd come to rely on it, but then he realised; he centred his life around using whatever he was given without thinking twice.
He was thankful for the cold of the night - he'd always been fascinated with cold places, cold things, and this was an uncharacteristic one dog night in a place where you should only need a blanket. He was quite substantially dressed thanks to that nurse, but the bite of the wind through his arms and against his bare face was comforting. The cold raised your heart rate - in theory, he should be better prepared for the fight he was waiting for.
Damn Axel. Cursing him with ideas that he knew were probably right.
Wasn't it a bit too coincidental that his sixth sense chose now to flake out?
Momentarily, he sneezed in the cold, strangely paranoid about the fraction-of-a-second loss of vision. He idly recalled an old game he'd seen Otacon play. Maybe the reason he couldn't sense anything was because they'd filled the air with SNOW-9. He wouldn't put it past them to use something like that.
The only thing that kept him from heading back was the fact that paranoia was better than confirmed danger. There couldn't be anything out here worse than there was in the hospital. He suspected that the bus incident hadn't gone entirely to plan, and that meant they weren't omniscient.
And that, he decided, meant they had a chance.