damned_institute | Nightshift 28: Main Hallway, 2-East

Entry tags:

Nightshift 28: Main Hallway, 2-East

[From here.]

The area was completely quiet and still after he’d reached the top of the stairs, and it instantly put the Star Dragon Sword on edge. He’d been through too many vampire and ghoul filled castles to take the silence as anything positive, and kept himself on the edge of cautious as his amber eyes scanned the hallways surrounding them.

There could be just about anything up here, and he’d continue to think so until he was proven otherwise. He hadn’t lived this long to let his guard down now, and after what he’d witnessed on the buses earlier, the Night Rune incarnation held no doubt that something sinister lurked these halls.

“Any particular direction you wish to explore? Or shall we just test our luck with any of them?” He muttered to his companion without glancing back over his shoulder. He wasn’t about to let his guard down.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Scar followed his companion when he ascended the stairs without falling down first, which, considering his situation, was quite the accomplishment.

"I regret to inform you that I lack knowledge of any direction up here." Scar stated dryly. "Which would mean we'd be testing our luck regardless of the one we'd end up taking." In other words, they had no choice but to pick one by random without having any idea where they would be heading.

And how splendid, there were three choices to pick from.

[ooc; I think there's an error in the title? As they had just gotten out of a stairwell, shouldn't they have arrived in the main hallway on the 2nd floor by now?]

“So I suppose it’s any direction then.” Glancing down to the left, from what he could see, that corridor only lead to a dead end. So did that mean that there was yet another hallway at the end of it, or was there simply nothing else there? From what little he could see, there didn’t seem to be any doors along the walls which indicated to him that venturing down in that direction might be more of a waste of time for the moment.

Moving off to the right, the Star Dragon Sword muttered unhappily to himself at the fact that he simply couldn’t use his powers as he walked towards the balcony.

[To Here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/259348.html)]

Once again, the hallways were empty. Roy could only hope that they could make the best of this and move quickly and quietly along without any distractions, but there was a good chance that they would be prime targets merely for being productive.

Now he had to decide which way he wanted to go. He had already checked the Disciplinary Therapy rooms in the past, and besides that, he doubted that he would get keys for those rooms, even by chance. There were probably more rooms to search if he just went straight ahead, but he wanted to see what there was to the right, seeing how he hadn't explored that area nearly as extensively.

He glanced over his shoulder to Mark. "We'll be heading to the right. I assume you don't have any objections?" He wasn't certain why he was checking in the first place, since he didn't need the other man's approval to go ahead, but it seemed like the polite way to go about it.

What sort of objections could I have, not knowing what we're going to or where the other paths lead? Mark wondered bemusedly.

"That's fine," he answered quietly, keeping his voice down. He was staying close to Mustang, much like their quick walk outside, careful not to crowd in case of danger. The fact that the colonel was more familiar with this place didn't mean he was impervious to missing possible dangers, and Mark had to stay aware beyond following Roy's back. If anything, he ought to be more aware, since Roy was concentrating on their route.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/257445.html?thread=19634597#t19634597)]

Without anyone as his companion for the night, Okita felt a certain amount of anxiety. He was accustomed to traveling in a group when he was on patrol. The Shinsengumi moved in packs, perhaps another reason why they earned their nickname. Sliding into the upper hall, he felt his stomach drop when other memories came back as well.

Just a day ago, he'd come here in search of a man who no longer existed.

Pushing on past that, Okita flicked on his flashlight and continued his hurried pace toward his goal.

Edited 2007-12-19 13:23 (UTC)

What had it been in its lives before? What sort of existance had each part led before the creatures fell into the hands of some cruel physician, one by one, ripped apart and sewn together in an unholy mess, a pathetic, horrible thing that shouldn't be granted the title of life.

The body was human. A woman, and that was painfully clear. She was naked, pale white skin taking on a nearly innocent glow in the scant light of the hall. Her breasts small and pert, signs of how young she had been when she had been taken, tortured in whatever vile and unspeakable ways. Yet it was hard to notice them for the gaping mouth in her stomach, a long vertical set of lips that parted to reveal countless rows of sharp teeth, and a thick black tongue that shimmered with foul-scented drool.

From its shoulders hung massive arms, nearly as long as her body, covered with black matted fur. A careful inspection would see the lines in the skin, cruel stitches used to patch together pieces of skin over something only the gods and a madman could define. What was clear, however, were the long claws on the ends of those arms, bone protruding from knuckles with a razor sharp edge. The legs were similar to the arms, though clearly closer to bird's in final design. Perhaps the same as the creatures outside, massive and marked by silver talons. Even her back wasn't to be trusted, flawed by a long snake's tail with the teeth of necrits pushed through the skin.

And last was her head, a woman's face that couldn't be seen behind tangles of long black hair. All that showed behind the strands were hints of a mouth as crueled fanged as her gut, and a single dark eye with a small mole beneath. A normal detail for a human, and perhaps that was why it stood out so.

But she wasn't she any longer. It was a monster, with the hunger of monsters, the instinctive desire to feed on human flesh freshly ripped from the bones. And Okita was perfect, alone and already worn from the night, perfect to fill that massive hole in her stomach.

[Tad ♥]

When his flashlight hit the pale flesh, he stopped immediately and let the flashlight slip from his fingers to the floor. Holding it would do no good right now - not when the light had caught the unnatural features, the monstrous claws and...the mole.

The way her hair hung was just as if it came from his memories. Ayumu, were you taken here? If this was indeed her, then the people responsible were going to suffer long and hard for their crimes.

But that also meant, he'd be responsible for--

His sword slipped from its cloth loop and he brought it in front of him. Regardless of who she used to be or what she was, this creature was between him and his goal. He hated thinking that he'd have to kill her - she was so young, so tortured - but he had his orders.

"Ayumu-san, forgive me," he murmured as he ran forward to see how she would attack.

Even if it had been her once, his voice wouldn't reach. There was no telling where the soul that had once been inside that shell had fled, but the spirit was clearly gone, the vacant visible eye devoid of emotion or any sign of thought.

There would be no forgiveness, but neither ill will. There was a chance Okita could find solace in the thought, but the creature intended to give him no time to do so. As he ran forward, so did it, with startling speed given the disproportionate size of its limbs to the core they'd been attached to. A massive arm raised, swiping at Okita as soon as the man came into its range, the length easily allowing it to reach Okita first.

It was fast! Almost as fast as Kenshin had been the night Okita attacked him. As it came forward, he pulled his sword back and dropped beneath the massive clawed hand, his knee hitting the ground. He was reminded yet again that tile was far harder than tatami and he gritted his teeth against the bruise that would certainly appear there tomorrow. He wouldn't be given any leeway in this battle, he knew that. The emptiness where there was once life bit into him as he glanced up to see if this creature was really his former friend.

Switching his grip, he tried to jump forward and slash the thing in the belly across the disgusting mouth and that black tongue. Unfortunately, it brought him closer to the abomination, but if he could get a few hits in, then perhaps it would be alright.

The first blow missed, but the creature's determination wasn't so fragile as that. It would have its meal, stain its mouths with the blood of Okita's flesh, and leave his bones to rot in the hall. The hair remained in way of Okita's sight, still hiding whatever secrets might be discovered in that face.

The dark tongue served more purpose than tasting its meal. The organ shot out, wrapping around Okita's sword as the man tried to slice it. But the sharp blade was nothing to be taken lightly, and while it had prevented a fatal wound, it still howled in pain as the edge cut into the muscle, foul blood staining the blade.

But regardless of this pain, the creature tried to wrestle Okita's sword away, or use the man's stubbornness to pull him closer. It growled deep from within its throat, hungry and eager, drool seeping down over Okita's hands.

Disgusting. Disgusting! The thing was drooling on him! He could deal with blood or entrails or anything else, but this? This was unforgivable. The creature began pulling him closer with that tongue, its rotten blood leaking down the sword, and Okita treated it with a devilish smile.

He'd cut through worse.

He pushed hard with the sword, forcing the blade down through the tissue and muscle, not caring it the creature's blood sprayed him. He wasn't about to let his sword get taken by some beast that wore a pretty face. Turning slightly, he aimed a low, hard kick to the leftover's left knee, hoping to throw it off balance.

It was fortunate that Okita didn't care. The thing screamed in agony, a woman's voice, loud and high echoing through the otherwise still halls. It stumbled back a step defensively when Okita's sword sliced through it's tongue, leaving a jagged stump behind. As it flailed for those few brief moments, deep brown blood that more resembled mud splattered out, putrid and thick, seeping anything it landed on.

Then Okita kicked at it, causing it to drop down onto a single leg. But it wasn't finished yet, no, still deadly for all its injuries. A massive arm swiped out, claws digging into the skin of Okita's chest, etching cruel lines into the skin.

Blood for blood. And it wasn't done yet.

The sound of a woman screaming snapped him out of his bloodlust. Ayumu's voice? Someone else's? He hestitated for just a moment and that was all the monster needed. Claws dug into his chest and Okita hissed in pain, jumping back as blood splattered him and made the floor slippery beneath his feet. Still unaccustomed to the feel of blood on tile, Okita fell to his knees, catching himself with one hand and feeling the fresh wound in his chest burn in protest.

What was worse, his uniform was torn. He'd just gotten this thing for the gods' sakes.

Pushing off the ground, Okita brought the sword around again and charged, aiming at the woman's neck. If this really had been Ayumu once, perhaps she would look up and tell him so. He hadn't been able to save her once, but this time, he could release her from a fate worse than death.

Okita falling bought them both precious time. The creature moaned in pain, an arm drapped defensively across its belly, what remained of its tongue hanging limp from the massive mouth. Its head swam as blood kept flowing out, but despite that, it forced itself to its feet.

The smell of Okita's blood filled its senses, bright red dripping from its claws. Just the start, and it wanted more, only knew that it had to eat. And its prey was coming at it again.

It lunged just in time, Okita earning another wail as his sword sunk into the thing's shoulder. Again it swept at Okita with its uninjured arm, the bulk too large to claw him again, but the muscle easily able to shove the man away hard, perhaps into a wall. Yet already its movements were growing sluggish, and it was gasping, the blood loss very real, its effect potent.

But it wasn't dead yet.

The sword remained in the woman's shoulder as Okita was thrown to the side, his hands ripped from the hilt. He slammed into the wall and grit his teeth against the feeling of rips groaning in protest. Perhaps this was what Kenshin had felt just that morning. What beautiful irony.

Okita didn't linger long, however, knowing that doing so would be fatal. He pushed off and rolled under the creature's arm, back to his original position. Drawing a hand back, he rammed the heel of it into the butt of the hilt, hoping to drive the sword deeper and make the arm completely useless.

Ignoring his wounds, he backed up and reached into the sack at his side, wrapping his fingers around one of the scalpels he kept with him just in case. He would have preferred a wakazashi or some other sort of dagger - something with a little more substance - but this would have to do. Drawing it out, he stepped back again and glared at the monstrosity before him. It was moving slower now. There was no way to stop bleeding from the tongue, after all. The substance was like mud, coating him and the floor, and he shot forward again, aiming the scalpel at the woman's throat.

Let me see your face before I kill you, he silently implored. He wanted to know if this was really his friend, the matron of his group, or just a pale imitation.

Slow, so slow, and suddenly it seemed the monster felt the weight of all the thick limbs that had been so cruelly attached to its frame. It tried to stand before Okita came back, but it couldn't find the strength, couldn't find the speed to do so in time.

And then more pain, more blood spilling out as the man drove his sword in deeper. Something severed deep inside, and the thing's arm fell completely limp, leaving it with only one other to use.

Was there something human there, in those eyes? It's head rolled back, it's smaller mouth open to reveal again those jagged rows of teeth. More of its hair fell back at that angle, just enough, exposing a little more of its face.

It wasn't Ayumu. No, some other unfortunate soul had been victim, a stranger to Okita. But now there was mercy for it, the scalpel driven home, the woman's face twisting in agony as she sputtered and choked on the blood that filled her throat.

Pale imitation, then. It was still no less sad for whoever this person used to be, but Okita cursed himself for letting memories get in the way of his work. These monsters and the one who made them needed to be stopped - his secondary objective next to returning home and preventing the Bakumatsu. The young man felt the scalpel dive into the woman's neck and he pushed harder.

It would be best to give her a quick end. It didn't take long to bleed out from a severed jugular vein. He ripped the blade to the side and out of the creature's neck, pulling it through muscle and veins and arteries through sheer strength of will.

His chest was bleeding badly and his ribs and shoulders ached from the unfortunate meeting with the wall. Like the rest of the Institute, things were much harder than in 1864. Stepping back, Okita held the scalpel at the ready in case it wasn't done yet and waited, standing witness to yet another blood stained night.

It couldn't breathe, couldn't scream as the blade ripped through it's throat. The ooze was still thick, but redder now, closer to where the woman's human face was. Instinct drove it to shove Okita back again, but the push was so much weaker this time, so much slower. All it could do beyond was to writhe, twist in agony as bubbles formed in the liquid seeping from its wound. But it didn't last long, not with how much it bled. No, only a few seconds, and then it fell still and silent to the ground.

Pushed again, Okita let the creature have that final blow and stumbled back into the hallway. His breathing was heavy and labored, the stench of the monster's blood making it difficult to draw in air without feeling nauseous. He covered his nose with the back of his hand and moved forward, grabbing the hilt of the sword and using his foot to steady the shoulder as he ripped it out.

"...I'm sorry, but rest in peace," he murmured, moving over to his flashlight. The faint light it had provided had actually been somewhat helpful, but now it was time to move again. Wiping the blade on the extra pillowcase, Okita moved around the creature and started for the hallway leading to the autopsy rooms when he felt that familiar eeriness in the air. The intercoms clicked on and Okita cursed as his world went black.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nightshift 28: Main Hallway, 2-East

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject