damned_institute | Nightshift 43 -Ballroom (Basement)

Noticing his companion missing, Qui-Gon had circled back in the freezer unit, winding his way past silent, chilled rows of hanging meat until he came upon a gaping hole in the floor, a discolored tile shoved to one side. There had been stairs just under this hole and Qui-Gon had squeezed his frame in. A larger, broad-shouldered man, Qui-Gon hadn't been able to lower himself down with ease but in the end managed, even if it was a tight squeeze. The Jedi Master wound his way down the stairs, feeling the darkness growing stronger until he came to the bottom and found the missing monk.

Sanzo was pulled up short, hand resting on his Earthian Verpine, and looking around at the new area. Qui-Gon came up behind him. It looked like some kind of elegant ball-room, the black stone tiles so highly polished that it appeared like they were walking on frozen black water. His upside down reflection was flawless. Why would this room be in here? Qui-Gon wasn't sure if it was an Earthian eccentricity or if this was as unusual as he thought it was.

He, too, kept his hand on his knife.

"I must say, out of any place I've been, this is the most baffling." Callisto entered brazenly from behind them, finally finding her quarry with the beam of her light stick. The one who's blood must have been on the floor in the cafeteria looked surprisingly well for someone who'd lost that much, though he was obviously still wounded.

She smirked at him. "Had a run-in with something short and stabby, did you? Poor thing." Despite her words, the tone of her voice didn't indicate any actual worry. She hadn't forgotten her goal. She still needed answers, and it was possible that these men had some.

If not, well, she'd find some use for them.

The monk turned stiffly at the new voice, just slow enough to be able to weather out the way the room spun a little from the motion. He drew the gun, but didn't quite point it at her until he'd looked her over. It was another patient, someone he hadn't seen around before

Blonde, thin, probably what the roach would've considered a bombshell.

Ugh. At least it was the Jedi next to him and not Gojyo. He wouldn't have to worry about either of them thinking with their dicks.

Sanzo shot woman a nasty scowl. That sarcasm hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Piss off, at least I brought him down," he replied. It irritated him to think that she'd just been able to walk through after him. "Who the fuck are you?"

Qui-Gon didn't say anything immediately, content instead to watch and observe for now. He had the ability, despite his size, to fade back into the background if he so chose; this newcomer looked like another patient, but best to be cautious. Despite her cavalier attitude, Qui-Gon could see her hair was unkempt and there were dark rings around her eyes. He was surprised he hadn't felt her approaching, however. It was difficult to sneak up on a Jedi but she had done it.

As for Sanzo? Qui-Gon felt his impatience spike at the woman, the monk stung at what she'd said. Sanzo was like no Jedi he'd ever met; it'd taken awhile to notice, but he'd realized that the curious feeling into Sanzo was a flat-line of anger and irritation, like a constant thing, and that he almost never tried to hide it or let it pass through him.

Callisto tilted her head and gave Sanzo a genuinely curious look. She glanced backwards as though indicating the man she'd left several rooms behind. "We are talking about the same thing, aren't we?" The word 'person' might be giving him too much credit in her mind. "Short, rather hairy, pops out long blades from his hands at will?"

The woman jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "Because if that's the case, then you've got a lot to learn about bringing someone down." Wolverine hadn't even seemed particularly injured when they faced off. There was a hole or two in his oddly tight outfit, but that hardly counted as damage.

She didn't yet introduce herself. She wanted to hear from the quiet one.

For fuck's sake, had that dipshit actually survived a head shot? Even the youkai back home, no matter if they were physically superior to humans, couldn't even take that. And Sanzo was pretty fucking sure that he'd hit that fucker in the brain.

The monk grimaced at the description. It was accurate - suspiciously so- and those blades had been sheathed when Sanzo dropped that man; so there wasn't anyway she could've seen them...which meant...

"I shot him point-blank in the head," Sanzo said flatly. "He was dead."

Qui-Gon spoke up. Dead in Landels didn't necessarily equal staying dead.

"Not necessarily," he said. His voice was calm, reasonable, with a tone of there's no sense fighting amongst ourselves. "If Martin Landel can take the dead and bring them back to life, then he can probably revive those he sends to attack the others."

Obviously that "gift" would probably not extend to the rest of the patients, but it was an explanation. Death was just a stalling method, then, if one were to put together the information from Sanzo and this mystery woman. It would be better simply to keep this knowledge in mind and tread with caution and move on, instead of getting frustrated at each other. Qui-Gon's posture was deceptively relaxed and he, for all intents and purposes, looked like he was out for a brisk jog than anything else - it'd been an ability that Obi-Wan, years ago, admitted he'd been envious of his Master for having. But Qui-Gon was alert and ready to act if he needed to.

Callisto gestured to each of them loosely with one forefinger. "So do you speak from experience?" The older man's comment made it clear he knew others (apart from herself of course) who's been deceased before they arrived. This didn't yet solve any of her questions yet, but it might be getting somewhere.

The most important matter was finding out how to reach the top dog. "By the way, this Martin Landel... How does one go about getting an audience, exactly?" Obviously not by yelling his name from the sun room. Someone here had to have seen him or have heard of a method in which she could get in contact with him. She wasn't messing around with peons if she didn't have to.

"You can't." From what he'd seen so far, Landel had only shown himself once to the patients, back in that chapel room to give that cryptic speech. Clearly he did have free reign of the building, if Jack's autopsy report was anything to go by.

But getting a meeting with him, especially when nearly the entire prison was out for his blood? It was beyond moronic.

Qui-Gon's words weren't helping matters either. It meant that they'd have to face that man when they came back.

Worse yet was the thought that Landel had somehow accomplished the impossible: raising the dead. Just how he'd accomplished it and why was another question entirely. Whatever he'd done, it went against every law of nature.

Sanzo was scowling at the woman. Who the hell did she think she was? What the fuck, they weren't there just to answer her questions.

"Look, we don't have time to waste with you. Whatever-the-fuck your name is," Sanzo said. "We actually have shit to do besides babysit your ass."

Qui-Gon's mouth only quirked up in a small, unreadable smile at the woman's question. He could, unfortunately, speak from experience, having died once already according to Obi-Wan. With that kind of injury, Qui-Gon was inclined to believe him. But Qui-Gon didn't offer a yes or no to her question either way.

As for contacting Martin Landel directly...there were probably ways to get into contact, although Qui-Gon was not sure why one would want to. Or, to be clear, he could come up with reasons why, but the true question was if it could accomplish anything. What made the man so dangerous was not only his unknown abilities, such as eating away at the Force and corrupting others, but also his thirst for power, for control...and yet, Qui-Gon reflected, for a man lusting for control, he had none over himself. It'd been apparent in the very way he spoke, night after night. Perhaps his strange abilities in the Force had corrupted him as well.

Sanzo wasn't taking this woman's attitude well. Qui-Gon didn't visibly react to Sanzo's harsh words, but he could tell they weren't helping things along.

"It would be wiser to wait until the day," Qui-Gon interjected mildly, sliding in smoothly as Sanzo took a breath, "if you plan to try to contact our captor. As far as I know, no one has been able to contact him or see them on their own terms, only his."

So it was like that, was it? Figured. Even in Hell there'd been some small chance you might be able to get a word across to their lord. It was incredibly difficult, but it wasn't impossible. There had to be a method here as well. Sadly, neither of the two men here were going to be of any use to her in that respect.

"The name's Callisto," she said with a wicked grin. Sanzo was the only one that seemed to care, but her response was directed at Qui-Gon, who appeared to be the brains between the two of them. "And I'm not the damzel in distress type, so don't worry. I'm just the new girl."

She began walking further into the room, shining her light up towards the ceiling to get an idea of how large it was. Did it continue further in?

Sanzo felt his patience fraying. Maybe she thought so, but the last thing he needed was another person tagging along. He certainly wasn't going to watch out for her.

"Whatever, suit yourself."

The monk moved to one of the doors on unsteady legs, trying the door. Unlike the others, it actually opened.

Qui-Gon dipped his head slightly. "Qui-Gon Jinn," he said.

And there went Sanzo again, pushing himself to keep moving despite his grave injuries. Qui-Gon shot Callisto a polite, slightly apologetic look, but it was probably lost on her: the woman seemed more interest in exploring, busy shining her flashlight up at the ceiling.

"The advice still stands," said Qui-Gon, turning to follow after Sanzo. "'Damsel' or not: take care. For whatever reasons you might be wanting to contact Martin Landel, be advised he is not the type to make any exceptions for prisoners such as you or I." It was her choice to take it or leave it; she had to be tough to get past this brainwashed patient and Qui-Gon believed she could take care of herself if they were attacked.

Sanzo, on the other hand. He was armed, but he was also still injured, Force-healing or not. Sighing inwardly, Qui-Gon went after Sanzo in order to keep an eye on him. At the rate he was pushing himself, he could very easily undo the fragile healing Qui-Gon managed and reopen his wounds if he wasn't careful.

What sort of a name was that? Callisto heard Qui-Gon's words, but didn't respond. Whatever the name, this man was the more experienced and polite one. As easy as it was to deal with him now, he could become troublesome further down the line. At least she could figure out how the younger one would react to something, more or less.

The room was expansive, and built with expensive material (as far as she knew) but there wasn't much in it. What purpose did it serve? Their wounded companion didn't seem interested in finding out, as he was already heading for an exit. Good. There was more to be seen.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/438873.html)]

Same old, same old shiny ballroom. Luckily, it didn't seem like Pyramid Head was here to greet them tonight.

He flipped off the flashlight for now, placing it in his sack. Moving over to the wall, he took one of the candle holders. No sense in wasting the batteries when there was a perfectly good torch available. Free too.

"Ready?" he asked his team.

"Ehhhhh?!" Brook felt his heart might split on the spot for how his friend had cut into it! "Such a mean thing to say, Archer-san!"

But then he lost sight of both the white-haired man and the woman. "Hm? Wh--?" he started, but then stopped when he saw the opening. A hole? They were jumping down a hole?! He stepped over to it and, getting on his knees, looked down into it. "Y-you don't mean... down there?! Jumping down there?! Surely not!" he called down, feeling the desire to simply stay above. Down couldn't be good. That was where basements were, and a basement would hardly be a safe place in a building such as this!

"Maybe... ah, this mission wasn't such a good idea. Yoho..." Brook told himself, but as he was moving to stand, his hand slipped and he lost his balance right into the hole. If Archer had been upset for the shouting before, this surprised shriek would have earned far more contempt as the tall man slid down into the place far more gracefully than his earlier mishap with the blood. Only when he stopped half-a-ways off into the center of the floor did Brook finally answer the question. "R-ready..."

"Come on. All three of us need to push on this door to open it." Archer moved to the door, leading to the West Hallway. He waited for the rest of his team before putting his back into it. "Ready? One, two, three!"

And as usual, Archer did not care for Brook's plight, but it was only one additional thing added to Archer's actions this evening. How mean he'd been! First the cake from yesterday! - yes, it did still count for this evening in Brook's mind - then an invitation to go on a mission to a basement that he didn't elaborate on, and the hitting, and now he was ignoring his fellow roommate's pain!

Brook pushed up to his feet, crying slightly in his over dramatized way. "Cruel..." he whimpered, then straightened with a slight cringe since he was abused all over, before going over to join the rest. "All of us, then? Yohohoho! I shall give it my all!" Brook could act hurt all he would, but when it came down to it he'd forgive anything really. Nothing could damper his spirits, even if he was about to go traipsing into a dank, dark basement like thing in a place a lot like Thriller Bar...

"No one having second thoughts?" Brook attempted to make them reconsider, but then Archer shouted to three, and he pushed.

Archer didn't even deign Brook's question with a reply, although he doubted Brook could see through his lies. The door opened fairly easily with their combined efforts, opening up to a creepy dark hallway.

"The fun's up ahead." His grin belying his true intention, scaring Brook.

Callisto stopped as they re-entered the ballroom. Her eyes took in the familiar scenery - the marble, the chandelier... and she broke into laughter. "Isn't this a riot. We're right back where we started!" The laughter faded into chuckling as she moved aside to let Qui-Gon and his load come through after her.

"This is just rich. I told you we were being played for fools." The sword trinket was slashed through the air. If only it wasn't so useless. Really? This pissed her off like nothing else. "Where to now, Jedi?"

Odd, certainly, but Qui-Gon took it in a stride. Better to be back someplace they had been before instead of being dumped into another dangerous "testing" ground like that false Jedi training center. His first thought was to head back up to the freezer and then to the kitchen and beyond...but then he'd have to pass through the Sun Room and according to Sanzo and Callisto, there was a being in there who couldn't be killed. It'd be a difficult battle even if he'd been at full-strength. Now it would be impossible.

"Let's try that door," Qui-Gon said, nodding toward it. He couldn't open it with his hands free like this, instead coming over to wait by it and keep a sharp eye out, glancing around for any reinforcements and watching Callisto's back.

"Oh yes. Let's!" The cheer in Callisto's voice was so false it was mocking, but she did as asked. After all, she had nothing better to do.

Her stride as she crossed the room was far too quick for Qui-Gon to keep up with, giving her time to check the door before he arrived. The same as the other one. Somehow, she didn't have high hopes for their next destination.

Nightshift 43 -Ballroom (Basement)

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