damned_institute | Nightshift 31: Morgue

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Nightshift 31: Morgue

[from here]

As Scar entered the room, he couldn't help but notice the drop in temperature compared to the hallway. Considering he wasn't used to this kind of temperature, he couldn't help but shudder a bit.

His cat-like eyes glanced around the room, taking note of the various - what was the name for these again? Cabinets? - lining the walls. He noticed the drawers were large enough for a human body to fit in, but the fact they were actually used for such a thing didn't even occur to him. There were two doors to their left.

He couldn't see any treats to speak of. He eventually glanced over his shoulder to see if a certain idiot was following. If the act of breaking down a door hadn't made enough noise, Mozenrath would certainly compensate.

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Mozenrath didn't want to stick around for another beating; no way was he going to do that. The throb in his chest was spreading as the pain of the wound set in, as well as the sorcerer could feel his clothing dampening from the blood the burning poker had drawn out.

Curses.

He began to scramble for the door, crawling the best he could towards it on his hands and knees.

Scar merely continued on his way towards the door, taking note of Mozenrath's undignified attempt to escape as well. It seemed the other man had quickly gave up on his determination to acquire his gauntlet.

But it wasn't of his concern. As long as the female didn't decide to suddenly switch targets, he would make it back to the hallway unscratched.

Almost there...

Daniella had no qualm with the cat- he ran as ordered to. It was the second, more stubborn, that the maid had her eyes on.

5...10...15... Not quick enough.

A cackle escaped from her lips with a violent shudder of her shoulders and she lunged again, the hot tip aimed squarely between the patient's shoulder blades.

Mozenrath turned to look behind him to glimpse the incoming attacking from Daniella and had only a moment to react. Logic dictated that he move out of the way, which was difficult from his prone position on the floor. He tried to move to one side and climb back to his feet, but that only spared him the blow in the middle of his back. Instead, he caught the poker completely in his right shoulder and was pushed down further into the floor.

"AGH!" The poker burned into the wound its tip created, searing away at the flesh the gauntlet had not removed from that arm, not to mention the gash on Mozenrath's chest was sharply and suddenly pressed into the hard floor, reminding him of its presence (as if he had forgotten!). This would not end pleasantly. He tried to struggle free with what little energy he could devote from writhing in pain, but that proved rather unsuccessful.

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/349905.html?thread=27526353#t27526353) with Sanzo]

The sense of agony in the Force hit him like a solid blow, just as solid as the sense of death from the autopsy room.

Qui-Gon entered the next room. It took only a second to register what was going on, but to him it seemed to take much longer: he saw a pale woman, tall and slender, and armed with some kind of hot poker, driving it into another patient who was on the floor. The victim was writhing in pain, trying to get away, but pinned.

Shooting a look at Sanzo, Qui-Gon went into action. He focused on the Force, tried to collect it and access it like he had before - it was difficult, like trying to breath with little atmosphere, and he found himself dizzy even as he stretched out his hand. He pointed it, palm out, at the woman, and focused on trying to Force push her away from the man on the floor.

Even in the meager light, Sanzo could see enough to recognize the woman in the chaos. He'd only run into her once, but with that strange, inhuman nature about her and that face and eyes, he wasn't going to easily forget her.

Last he'd seen her, she'd been very obviously a patient. Either she'd flipped the fuck out since then, or she wasn't a patient anymore. At this point, it didn't matter. She was attacking, and she was in the monk's way.

Qui-Gon was already moving toward her. Sanzo didn't hesitate, he entered the room, hand tight on the bone saw as he moved to circle around her.

Scar had almost reached the door when two unknown men entered the room and attacked the woman. He halted his escape and turned around while making sure the door was close enough, and watched them.

It did not take so much of the man's power to push Daniella back- the sight of being vastly outnumbered made the maid step back on her own. She eyed the two set on attacking, attention diverted from the latter.

She frowned. "Return to your rooms, sirs. It's cleaning time."

Mozenrath clamped his good hand upon his shoulder and hissed in pain. While he was more than glad to be free of the poker, it did not change the fact that he was still on his knees and in agony. He tried to get back on his feet again and stumbled towards Scar, curious as to the new arrivals.

"Friends of yours?" He managed to get out through clenched teeth.

Was this woman under brainwashing? They'd seen the handiwork of a few of the patients like this, but, trying to touch her mind and get a feel for it, he could only feel that same sense of void.

Qui-Gon kept his hand out, but his voice as he spoke was calm, persuasive. He tried to put the weight of the Force behind his words. "We will be leaving shortly, miss, after we take these gentlemen with us. Surely a few minutes won't disrupt your cleaning..."

He still kept a wary distance. His last attempt to Force persuade here in Landels hadn't been too successful - he'd tried with an Earthian spider and it didn't seem to have more effect. Trying to touch a being like this woman who was a void in the Force was much like trying to grab air and possibly just as successful. But he had to try, before he might have to resort to violence, and give time for the two other patients to get some distance between themselves and this armed woman. Qui-Gon kept his eyes on her, gaze focused.

She was in his way, and Sanzo really didn't have the time or patience to negotiate with someone who obviously wasn't going to listen. All the same, thee monk halted warily, almost managing to circle around the woman. Qui-Gon was up to something.

The Jedi was speaking to the woman, his tone very matter-of-fact, calm, as if he was just going out of a walk. As if she wasn't wielding a burning poker and hadn't just stabbed someone with it.

The patient who'd been in the process of ditching the other had turned around to watch. If he was already too chickenshit to defend the other patient and himself, then he probably wasn't going to be much good in a fight. A liability, at best.

The one who'd gotten the poker through the shoulder had managed to stumble towards his (in Sanzo's opinion, a piss-poor one) "friend". The priest glanced at them for a moment. This could get ugly and he didn't want to have to have them get underway.

"Get the hell out of here, now." Sanzo snapped.

Sanzo didn't have to repeat himself. Scar realized all too well that he couldn't fight, and considering Mozenrath hardly looked suitable for battle they'd only get in the way.

"Let's leave her to these men, shall we?" he said. Not wanting to wait until Mozenrath had finished his stumbling, he grabbed the man by his arm and dragged him back into the hallway.

[To here]

There were few things that could annoy the maid enough to get a reaction out of her- insolent patients who thought they were frightening being one of them. She turned to the man who saw fit to circle her like some filthy buzzard, and frowned. The other patient could wait, seeing as he was so calm.

"You," she said, voice low and disgusted. "You disobey. You run through these halls faining intelligence, faining strength where you have little. Run in groups to make up what you lack, run like grimy pests and making messes." Her arm outstretched, poker pointing at the blond.

"It's cleaning time, sir." With that and seemingly no fear of that bone saw, Daniella swung her weapon at the man with surprising speed.

If anything, that was the first honest, emotional reaction he'd seen her display so far, and if she had some capacity to feel emotions somewhere, he could use it. He'd done it enough to get a few youkai's guards to fall, but she'd be far tougher---

There wasn't any time to use that against her just yet, because the woman moved at him, weapon swinging. And she was fast, faster than Homura. The monk tried to duck to the side, bringing the bonesaw up at her arm to try and block.

He grunted.

Sanzo felt the poker knock against the side of his shoulder, burning off part of the sleeve as it scraped a blaze of pain down his arm and hit his wrist.

Qui-Gon focused on the Force again, giving the attacking patient a stronger push. He didn't want to hurt the woman if she had to, but he also had a duty to protect Sanzo. Harnessing the Force seemed to take much longer than earlier, stars bursting in his vision for an alarming second as the world narrowed in on itself instead of expanding. He swayed a little, but kept his feet under him as he waited for the white star bursts to dissipate.

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Nightshift 31: Morgue

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