damned_institute | Nightshift 30: M81-90 Hallway

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Nightshift 30: M81-90 Hallway

The radio crackled to life, and a strange voice emerged. Archer had been wondering what purpose the radio served. He doubted it was psychological warfare via Enya, but hey, he wouldn't put it past the Institute. Deciding to pocket it, he opened up his closet and geared up. That essentially meant putting on a large gray sweater and overlarge coat. Gray definitely wasn't his color.

Archer was about to leave when he remembered his pillow. It had felt awfully hard. Searching it revealed a durable, black flashlight. He'd probably need this too.

Pausing for a final glance around the room, Archer decided he was ready to leave. He exited his room, ready to see what horrors Landel's had to offer.

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"No way I'd chase that skirt," came a rejoinder of equal whim. "Don't know where it's been!"

Dean granted his brother a few nods as he listened. He was right there, it was a bit of a long shot, but they also couldn't keep this up, this ham-handed approach of loitering aimlessly like a couple of lost kids in the supermarket. The continuity of this brilliant plan was, in part, the elder's fault for a lack of due cooperation. So much had transpired since Sam's arrival, though. ... Nevertheless, he'd known Elena for a week when poof! Into thin air! To think he could've done something to stop it wasn't a piece of knowledge he could readily appreciate. People were dying, and Dean was sick and tired of acting the toothless spectator.

He slapped a hand on his knee before straightening with momentum.

"If we're gonna go that road, we should stock up our defense," he said with a fervent sparkle in his eyes. "Somethin' – no - anything you could belt someone with. Then we might make it to places under guard. Even got us a pharmacy started," the man cooed, flashing a lopsided grin and leaning back as if basking in his own grandeur.

Sam's eyebrows rose slightly at Dean's statement - while he would not in the normal run of things be surprised at such an achievement, they were rather without any of the resources they could usually draw on. "How'd you pull that off? I can't imagine the locks on their medical supply lockers could be picked with a paperclip..."

He did not, he insisted internally, feel rather irritated that paperclips were likely the best they could easily get their hands on, as far as equipment for breaking and entering went.

The topic of weapons gave him a moment's pause as well, and his expression turned thoughtful. "Guess we're going to have to raid a supply closet. Or figure out where the staff keeps any gear for their own security."

"Gimme some credit! Took a bit o' smooth talkin', but my, uh, doctor ate it all. 'Mr. Patterson,'" he struck up a woeful, formal tone, eyebrows furrowing as he gave his own personal impression of Dr. What's-His-Name. "'We're sorry to hear you have six months to live. May... we... offer you an aspirin?'" Dean laughed softly, face settling into a pleased expression. ... That the sucker'd been high at the time he was swindled was one detail the hunter knew best to keep to himself. "Two pills, one dose. Course, we're gonna need more than just a couple headache tablets."

He frowned in thought. Couldn't recall a storage room on the first floor.

"Could risk usin' those maps on the notice board," he suggested with a shrug. He didn't think it wise to rely on a team of patients who thought it perfectly safe to organise 'group assignments' in a place everyone and their mother could see... but he hadn't had the chance to properly assess the second floor, and it'd be kind of stupid to reject a source when it was there in front of them.

"Oh, almost forgot..." The older man canted his head sideways, idly running two fingers down the cloth-band necklace until the top of the amulet was pinched between them. He lifted it from his shirt for Sam to study. "Check it out," he said, a glint of renewed interest in his features as he glanced at it himself.

He still didn't get it... how'd his stuff - yeah, his stuff, not that hideous prison garb - find his closet? Whether the clothes were a gift or something else to confuse them, he couldn't tell. Though it wasn't like he was complaining.

In spite of himself, Sam found he couldn't quite cover a snort of laughter. The corners of his lips twitched upwards slightly, not quite a smile, but close. "And here I was thinking evil mutant freaks running a mental hospital for the damned wouldn't have heartstrings to tug," he replied. "Guess one of us could always get sent to the infirmary. There might be something we can get our hands on there."

The levity didn't last long, however, almost-smile transforming itself into a grimace that showed clear enough just how well he liked the idea of trusting information from a group that made itself so public. "That might work, if we can't find any more reliable information..."

There was no masking his surprise at the next revelation, enough to derail any further thoughts of intelligence gathering for the moment. Sam's brows rose further as he leaned to study the amulet. Odd, how the familiar seemed suddenly alien. "You found where they were keeping some of your things?" It was the only explanation that sprang readily to mind.

"No one's goin' to the infirmary. Are we clear?" He countered in a stern tenor, inspecting his brother with a sharp eye. "... Besides," he added in a voice of forced calm. "You really think these guys're stupid enough to leave a hole like that we can fall through? They'd have us on God-knows-what the entire time; have us restrained for all we know. Tight security, even for us."

Dean dropped the amulet, letting it hang around his neck in plain view.

"No, just scanned my closet last night and..." His eyebrows shot up, shoulders rising and slumping in a weary half-shrug. Bit by bit, he edged towards the wall, releasing an irritated sigh when he finally managed it, both legs sprawled in front of him and arms resting at his sides. "Checked yours lately?"

"Might depend on why we were there," Sam replied, though it was at best a token argument. His brother's logic was sound, and he knew it. Enough to be a touch embarassed - hare-brained schemes were not typically a large part of his repertoire. "Or if there was a distraction. Do you know what kind of security they have in there? It might be good to find out from someone, even if we never need to use the information."

He glanced towards his own closet, frowning slightly in thought. "Wasn't anything new in there this morning." His gaze slid back to Dean's amulet, wary now that the surprise had abated just enough for thought. Such 'gifts' from a mysterious benefactor sat uneasily with him. "Another mindgame?" he wondered.

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