damned_institute | Night 20: Entry Room

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Night 20: Entry Room

[ From here. ]

Cid followed Vincent into the room, eyes darting from the twin desks coming out from both the left and right walls to the double-doors opposite of the ones they were entering from. He barely had enough time to conclude that this looked like some kind of reception area when the fact that there were windows in front of him suddenly registered to his mind.

Cid nearly shoved Vincent out of the way as he forced his way back into the lead, putting one palm on the cool glass of one of the two windows on either side of the double-doors as he peered out. It was hard to make out much even with the moonlight illuminating what looked to be some kind of front yard with a gate surrounding it, but if anything, the iron spikes that topped it were a sudden and overbearing relief. It was a gate that was supposed to keep people in. It was an exit.

He glanced up to see a starry sky, and a wide smile spread across his face with the relief of a prisoner freed.

It fell along with the pit of his stomach when he realized the constellations weren't his.

A sudden and desperate frustration overtook the man, and it was with hard steps that he rushed at the door and tried one of the knobs. He grit his teeth when it wouldn't give, and one leg shot out to kick the thick wood with a loud thud.

"FUCK!" He hissed at both his forgetfulness that he was wearing thin slippers rather than combat boots as well as the whole fucking situation. He jumped on one foot as he held the other one in his hands, finally allowing his back to fall back against the small stretch of wall between the window and door. His wounds across his torso were hurting again from the exertion, or maybe it was just a reminder.

He looked towards Barret, then Vincent. He spoke lies because there was nothing else to say.

"The fuck you waiting for, Vincent? Get us the hell out of here."

Not that it was going to work. This was a fucking fool's errand, the result of which would be a deep and cutting injury that made everything so far look like jack shit.

They were fucked. They were fucked.

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"You'll never leave," came a cold, quiet voice. "None of us will. It's forever in here, but you know that, don't you?" The voice paused. "These aren't your stars. They aren't the dreams you left behind."

The small form of a girl, perhaps vaguely familiar to one or two of the men that had intruded upon her territory, seemed to melt out of the shadows. Messy, dark, brown hair framed her pale face, even more stark against the black backdrop with rays of moonlight streaming in. There were circles under her eyes, but the large, brown irises had never looked more alert. Most notable, however, were the two, crude weapons clutched tightly in her hands. A small hand axe in the left with a longer, sharper katana clasped in the right.

"You're going to go back to sleep now. It's past your bedtimes," River whispered.

Wallace laughed at Cid's failed attempt to break through the double doors with his thinly armored foot. The guy was a little too anxious to get on the outside. Not that he blamed him of course, since he was just as jumpy to do the same. The memory of Marlene drove him onward, even if this journey seemed like it may lead to a very dead end.

He was about to make a comment on the mild hilarity of the situation until he heard an unfamilar voice of a girl whose chilling tone sent a wave of arctic ice through his veins. As he fought off the shiver, he turned to look at the approaching figure with a frown. Upon seeing the weaponry in her possession however, the frown shifted to that of incredulous disbelief. She was a patient, same as they, yet her appearance looked worse for wear. Despite that fact, her stance seemed tense and ready to strike down any opposition posed her way. Based on her choice of words, it was safe to say...they were the opposition.

Armed with merely a metallic arm and a useless radio himself, their odds weren't looking so hot. Sure, Cid had a piece of glass, but the glint in this girls' eye spoke volumes about her skill, that she knew exactly how to use her toys. How she acquired them though, was a whole other matter...

"What the fuck..." he mouthed, trying to test his mind for some coherent wording, "Hey now, we on the same side. Maybe you could use those blades so we all can get the fuck outta here. Don't that seem like a better idea than sendin' us to bed? Heh heh..." he nearly stammered the suggestion as impending doom seemed to swirl thick around their trio of attempting escapees.

...Shit.

She was Elena's friend. Or had been. Certainly not tonight. Shit!

"Shut up, Barret," Vincent hissed as he intinctively froze, his eyes darted around the room, searching for the most viable exit. She was blocking their paths to the unlocked door, and the key he gripped tightly was no match against the katana. The second set of doors was their best shot.

He fiddled with the key, readying it.

Without warning Vincent bolted toward the door.

Cid's moment of--temporary--self-doubt was immediately interrupted by the cryptic voice, though it was only when the girl who appeared from the shadows reflected his very thoughts that he began to feel a chill in his bones.

The fuck?

Somehow, this "monster" was different from the others--cleaner, more vocal, more...

Vincent's sudden words was enough to clinch it, and it was with caution borne of sudden fear that Cid began to step back towards the door.

"Special Counseling," he breathed, remembering having seen the girl once or twice during the day--sometimes with that scarred deadbeat and the blue-haired guy that he and Vincent had momentarily teamed up with on their first night out. He slowly reached for the glass shard that he'd wrapped and put in his pocket, feeling a cold bead of sweat drip down from his brow. His eyes darted from Vincent to Barret.

"Barret, he ain't joking. Get your big ass over here."

Having seen what this place could do to Vincent was enough to make him wary of anyone, even a little fucking girl.

All of the targets were applicable, but the large one seemed most suitable. Easiest to access as the other two seemed to have brains enough to run. It was also a distinct possibility that the two wouldn't leave Barret Wallace alone to fight, and once engaged, there would only be a .084% chance of escape.

Lure them in. They weren't bold enough.

All of the information was processed in the blink of an eye. As soon as they started to move, River bolted without warning at Wallace, throwing two, well-coordinated blows at his mid-section. Precise and apt to do measurable damage without proving fatal. Perfect.

"Marlene's been taken from you again. Or are Daddy's hands too stained to carry her still?" River asked, her voice haunting and flat. Like a ghost. Like herself.

Being ignorant to the concept of 'Special counseling', Barret didn't grasp the full throttle of danger they were facing until Cid's command rang in his ear. He kept note of Vincent's movement in the corner of his eye until his figure disappeared behind him, and the sound of him fiddling with a key reminded him of their purpose.

He motioned to comply with the pilot's demand, working to take a back step just as Rivers' violent attack left him struggling to pull back enough to avoid the damage. The big man was not so lucky, the blades making a precise cut across his gut, through the thin cloth of his smiley tee. The damage bled, yet the sting was barely noticable, especially in the face of the words that spilled from the assailants ice cold lips.

And contained rage broke through the dam of self control with the mention of his beloved daughter, his heart and soul, the one person he would fight for through blood and gore, tooth and nail. The rage consumed him like molten lava, and everything was burning. He accessed due to her speed and weaponry he might not win as he was rather defenseless, but it didn't seem to matter as his line of vision turned a hazy red.

With brows drawn tight and eyes narrowed to slits, he steeled himself as he swelled his muscles with tension of a predetermined strike in his mind, "You be standin' in the mother fuckin' way of my step to gettin' close to her again. If my hands be too stained, it be because they gonna be covered by your mother fuckin' blood!" He wasn't as quick, but his large steps covered much ground as he rushed for her right, holding ready his metal arm for defense as he twisted to tower over her and send a giant, tightened left fist for the back of her exposed neck.

Vincent froze at the mention of Barret's daughter. He heard the faint splatter of blood, Barret's, as she attacked, but the rage that followed was at least reassuring that he hadn't gone down instantly.

"Cid!" he yelled, desperately fumbling for the lock. His hand raked across the door, the angle of the windows leaving it shrouded in shadow. "Get him away from her!" Not that it would do any good. This had gone very wrong, very quickly.

He had to get this door open.

Shit, this girl must've been a psychic or something, what with how she'd mirrored Cid's thoughts on the sky and was now pushing Barret's buttons--just after she'd attacked him outright.

And it'd been a weird attack to be sure--light and agile, not as forceful as one would think, though the skill behind it was undeniable...

As soon as Cid saw blood, he didn't need to hear Vincent's words to rush into the battle. Cid had already seen Cloud fall victim to SC and he didn't need another comrade to meet the same fate.

"Fucking idiot!" He hissed under his breath, running towards the small girl and the large man as he unsheathed his only weapon. Barret's hands were gonna get stained, sure, but with his own blood, not the creepy kid's.

Of course, he himself was the one who was rushing into the fray, and he was the one who had already done so at Landel's and come out worse for wear.

River said little else, words enough at the moment to ignite the flame and draw the moths closer. Wallace charged as expected, and she responded by ducking low, moving her body to spin into a sweep kick with her balance adjusted just so that the assistance of a hand would not be needed. If all went well, he'd fall, but she was prepared enough if he managed to keep his balance.

As the man with his head in the stars rushed forward just at the proper moment, she added on a quick, precise stroke with the katana, a blade of considerable range compared to the small, hand axe, while the smaller weapon was brought up quickly as a means of blocking whatever the patients would attempt to throw at her.

Simple math. Calculations precise as always. Highwind was only at 45% capacity, and Wallace was weakened due to the precautions.

Barret wasn't particularly too surprised his blow completely missed it's mark as the target ducked to escape the swing. He was already moving, even as her leg came at his own to topple him off his footing. He managed a brief stumble, his charge propelling him further in his desired direction, but mostly kept his balance in check, recovering from the attack.

He didn't allow Cid's insult to distract from his endeavor, and when he saw her swing for the pilot, he sprung into action. Due to the previous miss, he ended up behind her. An attempt at a grab could cost him his other good arm due to the weapons in her possession. Still, without a formidable weapon of his own, his disadvantage only fueled his doubt. However, the fury that broiled nullified that fear and filled him with fierce abandon.

He sized up his opponent in a second. Somewhat small, yet quick and agile. All he could truly hope for was to overpower her. With that thought in mind, he dove for the adversary, his left hand reaching to grip her lose hair while simultaneously raising his metallic right fist to land a swift, crushing blow to the side of her skull. If on target, the blow was sure to stun her at the very least, if not knock her out cold. It was the least he could hope for in a rather hopeless looking situation.

What it eventually came down to was either the distant hope of at least some semblance of freedom, or his comrades.

Pushing off from the door, Vincent made a mad dash for the katana that moved to slice his friend in two. He knew the where and how of snagging her weapon, but she was ridiculously fast and lethal. Smart.

And with the door still locked, they really were fucked.

"SHIT!" Cid yelled as his attack backfired on him, and he found himself stumbling backwards, his chest a wall of pain just like it had been the night when he'd attacked the nurses. Fuck, why the hell did everything have to go to shit?

It was another split second until he found that Vincent was trying to stop the girl, though that wasn't until he'd brought a hand to his chest and felt the uncannily warmth and moisture of blood.

Still, he'd go to hell before he watched his friends fight a foe just because he himself wasn't in prime condition. He couldn't do much, but he could do something, which was exactly what he tried to accomplish as he lunged for her free arm and tried to grab it with hands that were already slippery.

The largest of them seemed to be the most pressing problem at the moment, but he was angry. And that made it easy to calculate his movements. River had been created for this, altered to be a living weapon forged in the name of science. It was a nature she embraced at the moment, a nature they'd given back to her. Cold as steel.

River simply stepped to the side and pivoted sharply so that she was facing Valentine, taking a quick and low swipe as she moved with the axe at the patellar tendon in his knee. It would slow him down if it hit, but she was temporarily more concerned with the uninjured one.

As he moved to intercept the katana, River moved it just out of reach, flipping the blade expertly in her hand so that she could make a quick stab at Highwind's arm as it reached for her own despite the blood loss. In regards to Valentine himself, she simply drew up her leg and delivered a sharp yet properly restrained side-kick to his throat.

The hit was searing and staggering, threatening him to drop him like a sack of potatoes. The pain to his knee, which easily soaked the pant leg with scarlet, reminded him distantly of the continuing sting that the wound as his mid-section presented, bleeding freely as well. He had sustained worse injuries in the past, so panic was far from setting in. However, at that time they were thankful for the aid of curative materia and potions--in this place they had neither.

He quickly realized this little girl was kicking the Holy hell out of their trio was effortless finesse. Her feline grace kept her several steps ahead of him, as if she were calculating every blow he tried to land, even if she wasn't looking directly at his body.

Still, his anger raged on, and the sight of his comrades being attacked with equal force sprung him into action yet again. The move could be seen as risky and possibly disastrous, but unarmed and wounded, he saw little other choice. Ignoring the pain that trekked from his knee and up through the rest of his leg, he charged for the assailant just as she raised a foot to connect with Vincent's neck, his only true objective being to wrestle her to the ground from behind. His only real hope was his massive size and speed in his charge would bring her down before his weight.

He managed to catch her leg with both hands, but not before the blow landed hard and wrenched the air from his lungs.

In a split second and with the tenuous strength of suddenly unoxidized muscles he carried the momentum of the kick and twisted, hopefully knocking her off-balance enough for Barret to tackle down--

...and fell back to double over and cough harshly.

The blade of the katana was tearing through the flesh of Cid's left arm before he could even think about dodging, and it was only because the pilot was too weak to make a full grab for the girl's arm that he managed to avoid the full force of the blow.

And what a force it must have been, if this was enough to make him fall to the ground like a particularly pathetic sack of potatoes. Cid couldn't feel the pain at first--so cleanly had the polished weapon cut--but it was when he strained to get up from the cold floor that he put weight on his hand on screamed out in pain.

"FUCK!" His voice was rough and high as his body fell down hard, his right arm clutching the left as he rolled in the pain. It was okay to keep going while still on his feet, but now, fighting was starting to look like an impossibility.

His head snapped up when Vincent fell even as the rest of his body tried to stay still. He grimaced through the pain, and it was with grit teeth that he yelled:

"VINCENT! Dammit...!" The pilot drew a hard, agonizing breath, left arm trembling as it spilled blood. "There's no point going ahead! No fucking point!"

Valentine was quick, making use of his proximity. It hadn't been entirely unexpected; he'd been a Turk, after all and so much more.

River was forced to twist her body with the blow so that it wouldn't cause her to stagger. However, to so left her right in the path of the rampaging Wallace, and her options were limited.

Wrenching the katana from Highwind's arm as he seemed to fall back, a non-applicable target at the moment until the others would stand down, River whipped the blade back, holding onto the pommel as it was pointed directly in the direction of the charge. The point of impact decided was a decidedly non-fatal area of the midsection, but due to proper timing and positioning, there was a 99.84% chance that Wallace would have to cease the charge or spill more of his own blood. There was also a small chance that the red was blinding him, that he wouldn't even be able to see it.

Either way.

The adrenaline was there, as was the momentum, and he was so close to executing his endeavor. Just one problem suddenly presented itself, one of the worst possibilities he could have faced at that given moment--

A Katana, straight through the flesh. There was no time for thought, only action, and Barret had a one track mind. She was in the way of their goal. She was the threat. Whether it be mind control or no, he was going to try and take her down as she now represented what the hateful place they occupied was all about. Perhaps if he succeeded, his comrades might have a moment or two to execute a plan of their own.

Vincent followed through with what he had hoped--getting out of the God damn way. Cid's fall was caught in the corner of his eye, yet it didn't slow him down or alter his course. They'd been there longer, knew more than Wallace did about this place that kept them prisoner. They'd be a better asset in helping others escape than he would. He was doing this for them.

A primal yell bellowed from his lungs, the red haze brightening with each charging step.

He collided with the blade, piercing just above his gut as his massive frame crashed with the force of a bull lunging for a red cape and meeting it's mark. The pain nearly blacked him out, taking his breath away, yet distantly in his mind he knew he had a good chance for survival...if there was a doctor on duty.

"BARRET!" Vincent managed to rasp as the blade tore through the other side of his shirt. If morning didn't come soon, they were going to die. Barret was going to die.

At least he could still fight.

Vincent dove for her legs and weapons, hoping to pin and topple and ease the strain for his friend to keep her the hell down.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Cid yelled as soon as he realized what Barret was trying to do, though for what reason he couldn't fucking conceive.

Maybe that's why good guys always died. They were always too brave. Too stupid.

"SHIT!" The pilot added to his earlier insult, and although his body was about ready to go belly-up at this point, it was with the sheer force of a will that wouldn't buy into futility that he got on his hands and knees and began to push up. It hurt, fuck it hurt, to the point that his left arm jerked back from the ground and he found himself collapsing once more. This was fucking pathetic. Pathetic.

But there was no way two men could take this girl down on their own.

...He wasn't sure if three men could either, but what the hell.

He didn't think. He pushed, he staggered up. His bad arm went limp as his good arm tensed. He swayed, but he didn't fall.

"Bash her head!" He yelled at Vincent, realizing that if the guy's metal arm was hard enough to bash in mirror, it had better be able to knock someone unconscious. "Her fucking head!"

Heroics were never logical.

River was forced to abandon the katana now lodged in Wallace's gut. As Valentine dove for her legs, there wouldn't be time enough to keep hold of and dive effortlessly over the other man. As she went with the second option, the girl tucked into a quick roll, springing up to her feet in seconds with only the smaller axe in hand.

Incapacitate them all.

River stepped forward in a fierce sidekick that would intercept Wallace's body and send it flying back. Spinning with the momentum of the blow, she brought her leg up in an attempt to deliver a vicious heel drop to his back.

It was time for bed. They were just being stubborn.

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Night 20: Entry Room

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