damned_institute | Nightshift 32: Room of Fire

Entry tags:

leon kennedy,
mark

Nightshift 32: Room of Fire

[from here]

"You've gotta be kidding me..." Archer had initially thought that the warm air felt welcoming, but upon entering the room, he was clearly wrong. The unbearable heat from the lava below and off to the sides were gargoyle heads spewing flames, quickly began drying his clothes and warming him up. He took a moment to take this all in and evaluate the situation.

"First it was earth, air, and water. Now it's fire," he spoke calmly. "Hopefully this is the last one."

Despite his depressing words, Archer remained stoic on the surface. He couldn't allow his team to see any weakness in him; it wouldn't be good for morale. While he wasn't really depressed, Archer was annoyed at this little obstacle course they'd been dragged into.

Looking at the small platforms floating in the air in front of them, Archer surmised they could only carry about one or two people from their size, but two people was really pushing it. Not to mention the "floating" part really didn't inspire his confidence in them. He wasn't even really surprised that they were floating and didn't care how either.

As if that wasn't enough, their path was obstructed by infrequent bursts of fireballs, courtesy of the golden gargoyle heads along the walls.

This really sucks. One wrong step and we're crispy critters.

"I think we should try to cross one at a time, like the last room," he said before shifting to slightly more sarcastic tone. "Unless, you guys don't want to see me test run this little death trap first?"

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He eyed both of them, Leon's offered arm and Archer's glowing hand, with suspicion rather than the hesitant trust of temporary comaraderie. Leon was incorrect, he was more dangerous at the moment than he'd been since he'd arrived. But neither of them were his enemy, just... strangers. Strangers are unknowns, and could become enemies. But they'd have nothing to gain from harming him further, would they?

The Other was not very good at dealing with strangers. That was Lord Mark's job. But he'd promised to carry them through this, so Lord Mark could rest. After a long inner debate, he extended his hand towards Archer silently, a gesture of acceptance. He still didn't like talking. But...

"I'm not built for obstacle courses." It was personally true, and true of their body as well. It felt odd to apologize for his weakness, and the Other wasn't even sure it was appropriate, but Lord Mark seemed to think so. Who was the last person he'd spoken to? Ryoval, wasn't it? Even the therapist on Beta, whom the Other didn't trust at all, only heard of his opinion through Lord Mark's intervention. His voice was low and even despite the shaking of his body. "Thank you." That should be enough, shouldn't it? If this worked.

If this were a trick... he could still kill either of them, if he moved quickly enough, they wouldn't expect it. His arms hurt but the muscles functioned, could be driven on the way his legs had before. The Other braced their body a little away from the wall now, hand still extended, waiting to see what was coming.

Okay, definitely weird. Mark was still acting off, and now Archer was offering to heal him with some kind of... magic? Leon knew that people were coming from different worlds, but this was just wrong. There was so such thing as magic. Did not exist. The weird things that happened were the result of science gone wrong, but there was always an explanation. A rational, logical explanation.

Despite all this, Leon still halfway lowered his arm and nodded at Archer. Healing magic. Okay. Leon decided to keep an eye on Mark. The man did not seem to be well at all; he was still acting very strangely. He didn't seem quite like himself. Granted, Leon didn't know the man very well, maybe this was just how he acted when he was under stress.

"No problem." If Archer could've heard Leon's thoughts he would've told the man that he was in denial, but that didn't really matter. To be perfectly honest, Archer was more interested in seeing if Avalon still functioned properly than healing Mark.

"Alright, here I go." Slowly, in a nonthreatening manner, Archer approached and grasped Mark's hand. The golden aura surged down Mark's arm, soothing his pain and healing his wounds. The burnt patches of skin regenerated easily enough, turning from a burnt to a crisp black to a medium rare pink.

However, when he tried to heal Mark's leg, Archer felt something different, almost rejection. The only logical explanation was that there was something different about the structure or makeup of Mark's legs. If this was regular healing it would've been futile for Archer to try and fix something he didn't know the original makeup of. However, the one doing the healing was Avalon, a Noble Phantasm crafted by the faeries, whose thaumaturgy transcended anything Archer could make. Healing Mark was a fairly simple task for it.

Still, Archer's powers were limited here, and a complete healing was impossible, but it should be enough for Mark to move around considerably easier. After a short while, Avalon stopped, leaving Archer out of breath, bending over slightly.

"Sorry, it looks like that's all I got," he gasped between short breaths, his vision fading in and out. "How do you feel now, Mark?"

That had been... very strange. He was used to the proper sort of medical science, involving tubes and blades and sterilization and a lot of pain. This just felt gentle and slow, and he watched it carefully, but it really seemed to be helping. Letting an energy he didn't understand ease over his body made him tense and nervous, but Archer's intent did seem all right.

The pain receded less in his legs, but he'd already known he'd blown those out--apparently there were limits to what these sorts of abilities could do. Or maybe the artificial legbones made it harder; should he have said something? Surely the fact that he was running on crushed legs without any bones broken spoke for itself? Maybe they didn't have such things in Archer's world.

Archer wanted to know how they were feeling. Howl was sated, although the difficulties for the legs would keep him fed and keep them all slowed for a while despite the help. Lord Mark was resting, for now, with nothing to contribute but mild pleasure that it's over. "... it's better." How strange to be speaking like this. The Other stood up straighter, though his expression only changed slightly. "I'm able to walk. Are you?" Archer looked quite weak himself, now.

Whatever Archer did seemed to help, as the wounds on Mark's upper half visibly healed. Leon decided he was going to have to spend some quiet time tomorrow wrapping his head around the concept of what appeared to be magic.

He looked at his two battered teammates, and sighed. Hopefully Archer wouldn't take offense at this. "I think I'm probably in the best shape right now," he said. "Do you want me to take the lead? If we get attacked from the front, neither of you are in the best condition to be fending it off." He glanced back and forth between Archer and Mark, waiting for their replies.

"I'm just a little winded; that's all," Archer said as he slowly regained his breath.

He would've been a little offended at Leon's suggestion if he didn't realize how pathetic he probably looked just now. In a few more moments he would be fine, but for now, all he could do was consent.

"That would probably be best. Mark and I will follow behind you." Rearing up to his full height, hands on his hips, he took long deep breaths. "We should head to M35, it's a clinic setup by our fellow patients. From what I've seen they have a few medical specialists and limited resources. At the very least, I can confirm that they have pain killers and clean bandages."

Really, he felt much better, practically as though he'd just passed through a Durona clinic. Well, the legs weren't perfect, but he was no longer convinced he'd be paralyzed for life (or until escape and proper prosthetics could be obtained.) Archer was still a bit distracted by gathering his breath again, and giving orders. Leon was in the best shape, but if they moved quickly, neither would expect...

Okay, back off. Lord Mark pushed up and out again, now that the situation wasn't critical. Killer was hesitant, but with the return of his name realized he'd already started to submerge again, and surrendered control of their body. There's a reason you guys are a gang and not the boss, y'know.

A deep breath like Archer's, then, "That sounds like a good plan. Giving us a prize to put us off-guard in case of the next attack or trapped room is still a possibility. Thanks again for the help thus far." True, he'd run on his own feet, mostly, but Archer had saved him from the icicle, and healed him.

"Reaching the Saint Francis Club will require a trip through either the Sun Room or over the wall again, however. We've been at this a while. Injuries obtained during the night are bandaged and treated after the time that we're all knocked out. It might be a safer option to find a hiding spot until then, rather than risk another encounter with a crazed patient or monster. We know the wall pathway was not safe when we last went through, and the Sun Room never is; then again, by this time of night, they may have been cleared by other patients." Information analysis was a specialty of his, one he liked much better than killing, and it was much easier to do when he didn't feel as though he were about to die. They were only suggestions, of course.

He nodded at Archer, realizing it probably wasn't the easiest thing for the man to give up point position. Mark had a good point. He didn't much like the idea of trying to face that crazy girl with the hyenas again.

Leon dragged a hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat yet again. "Let's at least get out of this room," he suggested. "We can figure something out when we're not in danger of being burned to a crisp." He walked to the door, and pushed it open.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/376698.html)]

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Nightshift 32: Room of Fire

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