damned_institute | Nightshift 33: Janitor's Closet

Something lurked in the very back end of the closet, a human figure still hidden in the shadows as Winry turned open the door. It saw the girl, her flesh both soft and hardened from years of hard labor, an odd perfection of textures and flavors. It peered into her mind, seeing a thousand memories replayed, and found a face she would not easily dismiss.

"Winry?" A familiar voice called tentatively. It was a sound the girl had not heard in many years, but it would be unmistakable. It was the voice of her father. "Is that you?"

[David]

She stopped in her tracks, light lingering on the shelf where she'd been looking at the various supplies, managing to avoid the other presence in the closet. That voice, though. She hadn't heard it in years; once or twice heard a likeness that had made her jump for a moment, then feel chilly and sullen when she realized what she had been hoping.

She had felt that chill earlier today, awash with relief when she had heard about- and seen- Mister Hughes, back from the dead. It had terrified her at first, if only because she knew that the dead didn't come back. Not whole. Ed had assured her that Hughes was truly, completely alive, and that it was possible here. She had regarded other... possibilities... regarded them very carefully and not without shame, but hadn't actively hoped for it. She knew that wishing for such unnatural things was dangerous, but now...

"... Daddy?" She said, in a small voice she was almost certain was not her own. Frozen out of fear- fear of it being too good to be true- she kept her light aimed towards the wall, listlessly, and shifted her gaze.

The figure stepped into the light and held a hand up to shade his eyes as he squinted at the girl holding the light. By appearance and mannerism alone, there was no mistaking it. The figure was clearly the very same man who had been killed by alchemists for tending to the injured no matter their side during the Ishbalan revolt, who left behind a single daughter.

"Winry," he echoed again with a trembling voice, full of shock, hope, and disbelief. "I can't believe it...you've grown so big..."

While skeptical of a great many things, Winry had faith in Ed, and so when he told her that it was possible to bring back the dead here, whole, complete, without consequences, she believed him. It had taken her a while to adjust to it, but she believed him.

This felt too real to be a dream, though she went over the possibility several times, much as she had at lunch, on seeing Hughes. She swallowed, her lips and mouth suddenly dry, and she saw him; no mistake. It was far more vivid than her distant childhood memories and those vague appearances that her parents had often made in her dreams and daydreams.

"It's- really you..." She said the same mix of joy and disbelief in her own voice, stepping toward him, a hand outstretched, trembling to touch him, anxious to sense the moment when she could discover he was real, solid, tangible.

She was close, so close now. A few seconds more and it would have her...

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he said with a trembling voice, taking a few anxious steps closer and putting her hand in his, to show her that he was indeed real flesh and blood. "I didn't get to see you grow up...and I wish I didn't have to find you here in this place. They took me, but I never expected in my darkest nightmares that they'd take you, too. But now you're here, and I'm never going to let you go." He pulled lightly on her hand to wrap her in a hug. It was what any good father would do.

And it would make escape much more difficult for her.

It was him! This was-...

She had always sympathized with Ed and Al's desires to return their mother, even when it lead them to misguided and downright dangerous things. But it struck her so sharply here that she would have willingly given an arm and a leg of her own if only for this. Growing up without her parents from an earlier had lead her to accept their loss with much more ease, but feeling this touch again...

"Oh God... Dad," She said, tearing up with joy, as he spoke to her, readily answering many of the questions she had been thinking as if he had been reading her mind, "I missed you... so much." She couldn't help but state the obvious. What else to do?

How long had he been here? Had it been a ruse the whole time? Perhaps her parents had somehow been abducted instead of killed and held here for years under the public pretense of being dead... that would mean...

"What about Mom?" She asked, lost for more cohesive speech and feeling for all the world like a little girl again, as he took her in a hug.

"She's here, too," he said, feeding on her hopes as he pulled her into the embrace. Let her get comfortable, let her relax in the hope. He held her for a few long seconds before speaking again.

"I'm sorry." It seemed poetic somehow. In its mind, the image of her father seemed to like that. It made the meal all the more worthwhile.

It screamed then, an ear-shattering screech as her father's mouth extended and grew row upon row of sharp canines much like a shark's mouth. Still holding her in the embrace, it moved to bite into her shoulder, aiming to bite off a mouthful of tasty, innocent flesh.

Winry had resigned herself to the gentle hug, flashlight still hanging from her right hand as she sniffed a bit and sighed in relief. And her mother was alive too! This changed everything. Her whole future was suddenly so different.

It didn't register that the screech came from the creature that looked like her father; she her eyes flashed open and she lifted her arms, pressing her forearms over her ears as tight as she could while still gripping the flashlight. (it was a workman's instinct to hold onto what was in her hands, no matter how much resistance was met) It was only then that she realized the creature- her father, but no, it was something else!- moving to bite her. Still cringing from the screech, and dumbfounded from the sudden change from absolute security to absolute danger, she could only think to jerk away in that instant, crouching with her arms still over her head.

The jerk was enough to keep his bite away from her this time, but as she crouched the thing that bore the face of her father once again wrapped its arms around her, but this time it wasn't the warm comforting touch of a father embracing his daughter. Instead it was the grasp of a predator seeking to restrain its pray "I'm sorry, daughter," he said through row after row of sharp sharklike teeth, his voice still sounding ever so much like her father. "I'm just so hungry."

And again he bit down, aiming to rip off a solid chunk of her flesh. It wasn't truly sorry. It was only hungry.

This isn't Dad. It isn't Dad! Her mind raced, strained with emotion that blurred her line of thought, but if she had been able to think clearly, she would have been able to reason that her father, no matter how altered in his form, would never do this to her. Mom and Dad had dedicated- and lost- their lives to protect and heal. Even if this was some remainder of Dad- a chimera or a homunculus or whatever creature this place came up with- then wherever his true self was, he wouldn't want this version of him to be allowed to cause harm.

She thought a rather condensed version of this- though more in quick flashes of concept than in words, and flailed out, swinging her flashlight as the thing embraced her, because as much as she wished to practice her parents uncompromising philosophy of always healing, she herself was quick to act in self preservation, with violence if the case called for it. "STOP IT!" She yelled, desperately. She felt the bite, just before she was able to hit it, barely stunning it, rows of teeth grazing and then piercing the flesh on her back just above her shoulder blade, and screamed, tears escaping. She could see a pile of metal pipes just across the closet, that she knew would hurt it more than the flashlight, but couldn't hope to reach them. She knew flailing wouldn't help while it still had its teeth in her, and all she could do until it let go was pray there was something left of her father inside it she could appeal to.

"Dad, stop! You wouldn't do this!"

The image of her father relished the sweet taste of her blood and flesh as its teeth sunk in, but before it had a chance to rip or shred, it felt the flashlight connect with its head. It reeled back with a displeased monstrous shriek, then looked at her again. "You little bitch" it said, still in her father's voice. "Come here!" It grabbed for her again.

The teeth released, and she gasped in relief and pain as she struggled to get away. Even as she saw her own blood staining the monster's fangs, heard him scream and shout abuses at her as her father never would, she still cringed as she groped for a pipe and held it up.

"I'm sorry-" she said, just before she swung hard.

[Coming with Leon from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/406358.html?thread=32432726#t32432726)]

"I'll deal with it," Clark said. Or he'd try to, at least. He didn't want Leon getting further hurt and while he personally might not have Claire's healing powers, he could still try to help.

Clark burst inside, not checking to see if Leon was following. He'd gone charging in, like usual, and while he would've been prepared for the door to come flying off its hinges - as doors usually did around him - he wasn't ready for it to just swing open. Someone else had already unlocked it. The teenager stumbled awkwardly, trying to pull himself to a halt, his flashlight jerking up.

Two people. Or, that was, one girl and something that looked mostly human except it had teeth, big teeth no human could possibly have. The girl was swinging at the human(?) with a pipe. Clark went for the struggling two, intent on pushing them apart.

Leon was a bit surprised when Clark charged in past him. "Heroics," he muttered to himself, and followed him into the janitor's closet. Though with four people-- or at least three people and one thing with huge teeth-- in the room, Leon didn't enter so much as stand in the doorway. There was a young girl holding a pipe up defensively, blood dripping from her arm. Clark tried to move the girl away from the thing with the teeth; Leon shifted his bat in his good hand, ready to shove the girl behind him if need be. He really, really hoped Clark could handle this one. Leon didn't much like the idea of getting bloodied up again.

The pipe connected solidly with his head, knocking him back and causing an annoying ringing in his ears. And just as the pipe connected, two others rushed in, one of whom sought to push them apart. It fell back into the darkness off the closet, and under the safe comfort of the shadows its face reverted back to the face of Winry's father.

It was in trouble now. Its strengths were in subtlety and deceit, luring its victim into closed quarters and then striking while it was alone. It might be able to handle all three of them, but it didn't know. And it had at least gotten a little meal. Perhaps if it played things cooley, it might be able to slink back into the shadows.

"H...help me," he cried out in her father's voice again. "It...there's something inside of me. It's...I can't control what they've done to me. Please."

Perhaps a little cheesy, but it still might be enough to get them to spare it. Killing a masquerading monster was one thing...but could Winry truly let them kill her own father, no matter what had become of him? If it wouldn't have blown its cover, the creature might have grinned at its own brilliance.

Winry froze, her grip on the pipe solidifying rather than weakening. Someone else- another patient- ran between them, and she tensed as she was pushed back with considerable strength, enough to even push back the monster.

She stepped back as the creature regained her father's face and pleaded to her, as much in fear of what she might have done to hurt him as what he might do to her. Was this what had happened with Ed and Al's mother- no, 'Sloth'? She knew little from what Wrath had told her. She hadn't wanted to dwell on it. And she hadn't ever thought she would find herself in a similar situation. But he was begging her to help.

Her knuckles went white as she struggled with the decision suddenly thrust upon her.

"What can I do?"

Clark looked from the girl to the man in confusion. What? He'd been so sure that this was another of the monsters here - maybe of the unlucky staff - that hearing it speak, asking for help even, was way out of left-field. Clark wavered, glancing uncertainly at the man (well, what he could see of him - as soon as he'd come barreling in, he'd fallen back into the shadows). Not sure what to think but knowing he had to stick right where he was between the two, Clark didn't say anything at first.

What could they do? Clark felt helpless. Was this another patient who'd undergone some of the experiments here? He didn't know anything about "fixing" people who'd been changed. What if it was permanent?

Clark remained between the man and the girl, deciding that was the best bet for now.

Okay, that was... confusing. There had been screaming and biting and bleeding, which made sense to Leon. But now the creature-- person?-- was hiding in the shadows, asking for help. Clark was between the girl and the... thing, which was slightly worrying. If that creature decided to attack again, Clark might get torn apart. Or maybe he'd blast it with heat vision or fly or something. The kid was Superman, after all. Or he would be.

"You okay?" Leon asked the girl quietly, trying not to sound threatening towards the creature in the shadows.

"Find...your mother," The creature said, crawling further back into the shadows. All it needed was a chance to escape, but there was only one door, and the three of them were blocking the way. "She can help"

Somehow, guilt turned straight back on her, in spite of the fact that she was the one who was bleeding. She only nodded vaguely at the man in the doorway, her thoughts occupied with the problem before her.

"Where is she?" Winry didn't question just why her mother would be of help, or whether this was a trick of sorts. She had to believe. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if there was a way she could save her parents, and she didn't seek it.

The girl was bleeding. Obviously she was on her feet but, then again, so was Leon, so that wasn't saying anything. Clark kept an eye on the man's direction, glancing over and listening hard for any sounds of him losing control again before he opened up the first aid kit he'd taken from the storage room.

"I think you need that looked at," Clark said, knowing full well he wasn't much of a doctor but thinking that at least she could get it bandaged up. WHat about the man who was her...her father? Clark did a double-take. He did say the girl's "mother" and Clark's automatic assumption was that he was her dad.

Clark felt pity and concern creep up on him. Father pitted against daughter, unable to control himself? There had to be some way to help the both of them...

And Clark was trying to bandage up the girl. Not a bad idea, necessarily, but generally Leon preferred to do that after the threat was removed. The person in the shadows seemed to know the girl somehow. He was telling her to find her mother... maybe they were related. Leon shifted position slightly, ready to lunge forward if the person seemed like he was going to attack any of them again.

One of them seemed obviously ready to attack it if it made so much as the slightest move. That was fine. It was almost free. It just had to come up with some good excuse to get her to move far, far away.

"I lost track of her outside," he said. "Near the greenhouse."

Maybe if it was really lucky, one of them would stay behind to watch it. It could take one of them...

"I-" She paused to check her surroundings. She was here for tools and she could see the box- smaller than expected- in the corner. Somehow, it was comforting to remember; at least they were something she knew what to do with, and she would need them for further lock-picking, as the bits she'd used before were all bent out of shape. She looked at the two men who were now here, unsure of how they saw this situation, or whether they were even allies. She'd only wanted to get her supplies and go to take care of Kagura. She'd anticipated monsters; something she could run from, but she realized her utter mistake at coming out alone.

"How can I know you'll be alright?" She bit her lip. She couldn't ask one of these men to stay and watch him, but she didn't want Dad hurting himself, or anyone else.

[Go ahead and skip me this round please?]

Leon glanced back and forth between the two. "There's a room across the hall that's open," he suggested. "I don't think anyone else is in there. If you're alone, you're not... a danger, right?" He didn't entirely trust this person, but if something had been done to him here... Leon didn't want to attack someone who might be a fellow patient just because the Head Doctor had messed with them. He looked over at the girl. "And you two can find each other during the day, maybe?"

"No, I...I think I'll be fine," he said. Just go away already, he hissed at them in his mind. If they could just leave him alone, or preferably alone with the girl...

She wanted to believe him, but considering that he hadn't even been able to hold back around her, she was unwilling to risk him having another attack and hurting himself, or someone else.

For his own safety. She reminded herself, knowing Dad of all people would understand the need, as she reached for one of the extension cords on a pile of many and a roll of duct tape, taking his wrists, feeling safer knowing there was still some sanity in him as well as two other non-possessed patients to interfere in case anything happened.

"I'm coming back with mom just as soon as I can," She said, as she skillfully made knots with the extension cord, connecting his hands with a post on the shelf. If determined, he could shake the shelf down, but it would certainly keep him slow if the situation came where he couldn't control himself, "I won't let anything happen to you-" She picked up the small tool kit as she finished, and hesitated again, "I love you, Dad." Her hand lingered over his, and she turned to leave, certain that she would be back quickly.

Clark watched as the girl reached out and tied her dad's wrists up. He couldn't imagine what it'd feel like to have a family member here, nevermind having to know they'd been changed by Landels and that the only way to keep them from hurting themselves or others was to treat them like this. Clark remained respectfully silent, frowning.

Well, that worked, too. Leon nodded his approval at the girl's idea. He hoped that he and Clark would be able to explore the closet quickly and move on. In an attempt to speed up that process, Leon lowered his bat and grabbed a couple rolls of duct tape, sliding them onto his injured arm like bracelets. The added weight hurt some, but he figured he'd come up with a better plan later. Extension cords would be good as well... plus there was an entire room behind this closet marked as extra storage on Leon's map. He wanted to check that out as well, if possible. Leon tried to catch Clark's attention, and nodded at the door leading to the storage room.

[Time-warping from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/406358.html?thread=32541014#t32829014), with permission of two muns from the above thread.]

Getting a closer look at the closet, he realized that something had happened here earlier. By the looks of it, a fight. Well, at least it was gone now--they'd made it here so far safe and sound, and hopefully, they'd make it back the same way.

He began looking around in search of a flashlight. It would've been nice to have Vlad give him some light so he could see what exactly it was he was looking at, but he figured that after his little outburst, he wasn't too keen on helping Danny out any more than he had to.

Vlad followed in quickly, in too sour a mood and too much of a hurry to be bothered with observing his surroundings. How was it that Daniel had such a talent for angering him lately? Perhaps it was stress. Yes, after they left here, he would find something very nice and relaxing to do.

Like killing Daniel. "Over there." Vlad's flashlight illuminated some spares, as detailed on the bulletin board. "Now let's hurry up and get out of here before something attacks us."

Taking the spare flashlight in his other hand, tucking the pipe under his arm, Vlad hurried out of the room. There were other things upstairs, weren't there? Chemicals, drug resources... that would be more useful to him, but if nothing else, at least they had dragged Daniel back up to the default starting point with the new flashlight.

[back out here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/406358.html?thread=32541014#t32829014), thanks to monster-mun and Clark-mun to responding on the lounge and apologies otherwise ^^;;]

The janitor's closet seemed in disarray, not just as if someone had taken things, but as if there had been some sort of altercation. It mattered little, as long as they got what they came for.

Along the walls were an array of cleaning supplies and the like. Not so many large metal appliances, but there were some smaller metal tools that a janitor might use. Itachi grabbed a couple wrenches, then proceeded to stare at the rest of the equipment. "Do you think these chemicals might be useful?" he asked Kunzite, gazing at the cleaning solutions. He knew hardly a thing about them, but his companion might.

Kunzite walked into the small room, surprised at it's clutter (and for a moment his mind flashed back to a vision of Nephrite, who last was living as a mere assistant himself, including cleaning floors at some small arcade), and walked through the disarray. Inspecting some of the spaces on the wall, he gathered a few screwdrivers of different sizes and tips; even if some of these are redundant, the extras might yield a bit of metal to the project.

"Let me see," he responded, picking up a few hammers before turning to his partner. Kunzite took one of the bottles, but was disappointed to discover the labels did not list their contents. "'Do not ingest'...that much should be obvious without needing writing." He scanned another: "Sodium hydroxide...probably not to basic, but nevertheless...yes, let's take some of these. I am not well versed in alchemical things, but I imagine the 'Arts and Crafts' department might have some interest in these." Kunzite grabbed a few of the bottles - haphazardly, again because they did not have proper contents on them - and shoved them into his satchel.

Itachi also grabbed several bottles. "Yes, if we cannot use them, perhaps someone will trade for them."

He looked around the room. There were a lot of things in here, but not many suited to their particular needs. Itachi peered towards the back. "Isn't there a storage room behind this room on the map?"

"Indeed there is," Kunzite said sternly. He walked across the clutter, stepping carefully around some of the more obtrusive objects, and twisted the doorknob. "Locked," he snarled, "so no one has been in there yet." Kneeling as best he could, he investigated the locking mechanism; the knob seemed rusted, and no doubt the lock was as well. He reached for his bat, gripping the taped end strongly, and struck down on the doorknob. As expected, the mechanism collapsed, allowing the door to creak open slowly.

"Easier than expected," he smirked, releasing one hand to pick up his satchel. "Let's go, Itachi; hopefully we'll have some luck here as well."

A sense of urgency suddenly overwhelmed Kunzite, though he did not show it physically. He merely pushed forward, calm as ever externally, and made his way to the door to the hallway in front. Using the two weapons to push the door open, he peered into the hall, signaling for his companion that all was clear.

Itachi followed Kunzite, mentally shrugging. There wasn't much room in his bag, and the night was probably waning, given its usually short period of time. But anything they could find in the time left would be better than nothing, and at least they would know the area better after this.

Kunzite seemed cautious about going back to the hall; perhaps his fighter's instincts were telling him something. But if something untoward happened, Itachi was ready to handle it. This night was too quiet, too slow, and it was starting to grate on Itachi's strained nerves. He almost wished they had had some sort of confrontation already.

With these thoughts in mind, Itachi impatiently passed through the door his partner was holding open.

Nightshift 33: Janitor's Closet

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