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damned_institute2008-09-20 02:02 pm
rectifies.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2008-09-20 02:02 pm
Nightshift 35: M81-M90 Hallway
The passing words regarding the CM-US Experimental Trials made the boy sick to his stomach, nearly causing him to throw up whatever he had managed to eat during dinner. How the doctors could treat torture so clinically Ken did not know; the implications almost prompted him to stay in for the night. Logically, he really should have since he hadn't had a moment of peace since two days prior.
But Ken still had work to finish. A lot of work, actually, which he realized upon doing a small inventory check. Of all the items he'd promised to the bounty hunter, only the metal bowl (or pot, but this was no time to be picky) was in his possession. That was pretty pathetic, given Ken had spent a good deal of time in the second-floor kitchen last night, and he couldn't very well sleep with that fact in mind. He needed those objects.
So once again, he shouldered the spear and pocketed his pillowcase before making his way out to the corridors, remembering at the last minute to wish his roommate good luck.
[To here.]
But Ken still had work to finish. A lot of work, actually, which he realized upon doing a small inventory check. Of all the items he'd promised to the bounty hunter, only the metal bowl (or pot, but this was no time to be picky) was in his possession. That was pretty pathetic, given Ken had spent a good deal of time in the second-floor kitchen last night, and he couldn't very well sleep with that fact in mind. He needed those objects.
So once again, he shouldered the spear and pocketed his pillowcase before making his way out to the corridors, remembering at the last minute to wish his roommate good luck.
[To here.]
Outside M83
Re: Outside M83
Re: Outside M83
After a quick in and out, Archer was armed with his bow, arrows in the sack, and a bat and sword in each hand. This was probably as close as one could get "armed to the teeth" in this place. That was pretty sad, but he felt he'd done pretty well for himself.
Since he already had his hands full, he left behind the extra bat he picked up tonight. Perhaps Brook could use it.
With the two artifacts secured, it was time to meet up with his team.
Re: Outside M83
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Stepping out into the hallway, he looked around, wondering what to do with himself this time. He should check on Armand and Miss Sohma. He smiled at the thought. That seemed to be his routine now.
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Such as whatever had happened with Zelgadis. The genuine details would also have to be worked out later, between the two of them, but that could wait. Zelgadis's mental state was only a minor setback, in the larger scheme of things. The man could turn to a gibbering wreck as far as Xelloss was concerned.
More important was his flashlight. Enough time traveling in varied societies and even among different species had given Xelloss adaptability, so he'd quickly picked up the name of the devices and that their use wasn't considered strange at all. He even understood, from reading questions asked by others on the boards, that the device was powered by small magical cells which were held within, and which could be replenished upstairs. Traveling upstairs alone in absolute darkness, on the other hand, appealed even less than another jog outside for the evening. His feet and legs were still a bit sore. He'd have to find someone along the way to help light his path, that was all.
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The hallway was empty, and he straightened and glanced around, surprised to see that Statesman wasn't waiting for them like he usually was. It probably didn't mean anything, and he tried not to worry, especially since he knew he shouldn't even care.
But he should. Maybe he didn't agree with Statesman on everything, but their goals were the same. Peter realized that the other man could probably take care of himself, though.
"So, did we want to try outside again? Or what were you thinking?" There was also the basement, but Peter didn't know how to get there, and he was pretty sure Logan didn't either.
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Without so much as a backwards glance (he knew on an almost subconscious level exactly where his roommate was behind him), he replied, in a voice raised just above a whisper. No sense in alerting anything inhospitable to their presence; that was just common sense.
"I wanna make up fer wha' I did ta Steve las' nigh', so I'm lookin' ta show'm tha ropes. Leas' I c'n do." He didn't even bother to ask if this would be okay with Parker as he usually would have; he was pretty determined to find the Captain, regardless of anyone else's opinion. "He tol' me he's in M95, so he's no' too far. We shoul' fin' him fore he ge's himsel' los'." This last part carried a trace of ironic humour; both he and Steve, hell, even Parker, too, had gotten into worse situations than this before.
"Keep movin' kid." There was steel in his tone. He could change the past, but he could, and would try to, atone as much as possible in the future. A thought passed through his brain momentarily; what if the fact that Cole wasn't there meant that he had been taken tonight? It didn't last though, as he realised from his own experiences that there was little that could be done about it either way. But he was always there before them, or so it seemed to his mind. He cursed himself silently for all the second-guessing, realising that it wasn't going to help matters. "Cole's no' here," he mumbled, in case Parker hadn't realised that himself by now. "Bu' I'm sure he c'n take care of himself." He added, suddenly sounding far less confident, as he was already moving swiftly down the hall. He didn't like to cut and run on someone he was starting to consider a teammate, but then again, it wasn't like it would be the first time. Besides, he told himself, Cole had been here a fair while now, and Steve had only just turned up recently, and might need more help. This was a poor line of reasoning, but it was the only one he had right now.
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/455255.html)]
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He'd just have to tighten his proverbial belt and resign himself to eating a big breakfast, then.
How long had he been asleep, anyway? Was he only a few minutes into Nightshift, or had he missed hours? Without any way to judge time, he had no idea. It was a little unnerving.
[moving here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/458617.html).]
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He'd stolen the car, and everything had been going like clockwork. But before he'd gotten two blocks, the needle on the fuel gauge had suddenly dropped to E. The car had been at least half-full when he'd started it - his memory was no slouch when it came to current things, and that was something he'd noticed. Before he could get out and run, the car had been surrounded by orderlies, and he'd been dragged out and injected with at least two syringes' worth of strong sedative. Just before his brain shut off, he saw that there had been no drip of gasoline behind the car, so the gas tank hadn't been holed.
How had that happened? How the fuck had that happened?
Bourne shook his head, trying to clear it. He really didn't like being sedated. So they'd foiled his plan A. That was fine. One didn't survive Blackbriar without backup plans.
He grabbed his flashlight, outdoor slippers, coat, and radio, and disappeared out the door.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/455255.html)]
From M89
Eventually, his headache began to die down enough that he could sit up without much pain. Great. He edged out of bed and grabbed his flashlight and coat.
He wasn't going to stay awake by sitting there. He needed to do something, maybe even find a way out. The hospital was beginning to wear on him. The food wasn't even that great!
Not that he'd eaten much of it, but... He stumbled out into the hallway and turned right, then left.
Re: From M89