damned_institute | Nightshift 35: Janitor's Closet

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Nightshift 35: Janitor's Closet

[from here]

It was just as advertised, really, and Brooklyn didn't know if he should have expected any different when the door broke open and the two of them entered the small room. He felt bad about the fact that they were most likely going to be stealing supplies from here just as they had the other place. Some poor soul, most likely oblivious to their nightly plight, was going to return to work tomorrow and find his cleaning supplies missing.

Or was he? They couldn't have been the first people to raid this place. But if the supplies were replaced, when did it happen? The gargoyle stepped aside as he thought this over to let Near do as he would.

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What Brooklyn was considering might have sparked an interesting answer, had the man spoken it out loud. As it was, however, Near's focus went to the shelves around them, his flashlight scanning the small room as quickly as it had the pharmacy. It only took a moment for Near to take in the contents that surrounded them, and to decide which of the items would be of greatest use to him in various endeavors.

And even better, a solution to carrying it all had become evident.

"If you see anything you wish to take for yourself, feel free to point it out." The first three things Near got would be necessary for carrying their gains: the handcart, the garbage bags, and the duct tape. By placing items into the garbage bags, they could be secured to the handcart with the duct tape, and thus be easily pushed from their current location to Near's room with ease, even by someone as physically lacking as the teen. The duct tape would also ensure a significant reduction in jostling, particularly on the stairs they would have to use.

Those three items were set aside, and Near's pillowcase placed with them. He leaned the handcart so it was propped up at an angle, wedging pens underneath the wheels to prevent movement until he desired it. In a way, it was similar to putting together a makeshift puzzle. Arranging the items to best secure them, and to take as much as possible. The first thing Near selected was the toolkit, opening it briefly to examine the contents, then placing the hard box on the base of the cart before he began to pry the end of the tape away from the roll.

"I don't need anything," Brooklyn said, repeating the same words from earlier. What was he going to do with any of these things anyway? Clean his room? For now, he had clothing and weapons. Anything else was superfluous.

He watched Near work, curious. Did the boy plan on carting out the whole room? Was it so necessary to take all of these things? At least he was smart about it. The gargoyle was willing to admit that he might not have considered the cart when it came to making off with a haul.

"Want a hand?" he offered finally. They might as well take care of this quickly.

Near had just managed to get a single corner of the tape up enough to grab it with his fingers, and the otherwise quiet room was filled with a loud shrrrk as he pulled away a length roughly equivalent to the length of his arm. He was just about ready to begin the process of taping the toolbox to the cart when Brooklyn spoke up. Convenient.

"That would be quite helpful." Near offered up the tape, with it's long tail hanging down. "If you bite it, you should be able to separate the piece well enough. Thank you." This freed Near to begin taking down the rest of what he desired, and organize it into neat stack. He started the task of working his way through the shelves, knowing that it would be involved. The first items on his list were the flammable chemicals, specifically a jar each of paint stripper and paint thinner.

And of course, during this time, Near thought over what he had seen at various stages over the past few days. In particular he focused on the immediate past, and Brooklyn's obviously growing agitation. "Are you always so eager to help people?" Near asked it without malice, or even without judgment, though it was in the same blunt manner he'd spoken with throughout the night. It was curious to see; Near of course knew altruism was alive and well in so many ways, but Brooklyn's particular brand seemed more demanding, almost as if it were an imperative rather than a preference. He would need to find out more, obviously, particularly if he hoped to have the help of the man in any future outing.

Brooklyn almost started to say It's hard to explain again, but caught himself before he'd have to listen to Nate telling him exactly why it wasn't afterwards. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Guess I am."

It was part of the nature of a gargoyle. Those who ignored their instincts, who turned their backs on, or turned against humanity, lost their purpose in life. Corrupt and empty, as Goliath would have said. If you avoided it, you would either become wicked or disheartened, and the latter would often find themselves returning to their true nature eventually.

He took the tape from Nate, making a bit of a face as he did. For tape, it smelled funny. Like too many chemicals were woven into the binding. He tore the piece free as the boy had instructed. It had looked as though he'd wanted to secure the toolbox with it, so that's what he did.

Nate already knew he wasn't human, or at the very least was something with wings. He'd find himself explaining things sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way. "What I am... As a race of beings, protecting others - humans in particular - is just part of who we are." And it was a thankless job, given what they were, but what small bit of gratitude they did get made it all worth it.

"That's rather interesting." And indeed it was. Near considered this revelation, of a race that guarded over humans as part of their instinctive nature. Where they related to the shinigami somehow? Or where these creatures completely separate and distinct from Near's world? It was of course hard to immediately say, given all the factors at play in their prison.

"Is Brooklyn the name of the area you protect then?" Even with wings, Near imagined there would only be so much territory any one being could cover, though admittedly he had no knowledge of the scope of Brooklyn's powers. But Brooklyn had seemed keened not to blast a beam of energy or write down a name from the Sun Room rail, but to leap over and enter physical combat. That led Near to believe it would likely be the same in his own world, without the influence of the Institute.

Brooklyn had secured the toolbox nicely, and Near put a garbage bag on top, ensuring the opening was accessible. Inside this bag went the two cans, and then several spray bottles--what would be the start of a makeshift defense even Near could use should the situation require it. Though really, he hoped it didn't. Particularly not when the pressure from the spray bottles would limit any strikes to an immediate vicinity. He would need a way to solve that problem, but for the time being what he had would suffice. Of course, such a tactic wouldn't be necessary until the better pressurized item ran out: air sanitizer. The same principle would work on any of the items ultimately, but Near wanted to take all options he could now. So the spray bottles too went into the bag, before Near tied it up and ensured that it didn't effect the overall balance of the cart.

"We should be careful." Stepping aside to let Brooklyn secure the newest addition, he moved back to the shelves. "The items I just put on are highly flammable. It's something to keep in mind." Besides, it wouldn't do any good to have this effort be wasted by a single careless explosion. And Near certainly didn't want a scar to match Mello's.

The gargoyle shook his head, though the guess on his name had been a close one. "My clan currently watches over all of Manhattan." He continued securing the items as Nate piled them on, though it wasn't as neat of a job as someone more familiar with duct tape, or even tape in general, would have managed. "We didn't have names before we were... before we moved there. I named myself after the district because I thought it sounded cool."

What better reason was there, really? He was sure that was the reason plenty of people chose names.

"Thanks for the warning," he muttered as Nate told him to be careful. He could tell that much about the items, at least. And he could read. It was mildly insulting that the boy thought he had to warn him, but Brooklyn didn't say anything else on the matter.

Clan, which meant more than one. It suggested Scottish origins, though Brooklyn lacked an accent. More interesting was the slip, of course; though Near was hopeful that by now, the man would have realized it was better to simply say what he meant than trying to cover it up halfway through--not that Near would have missed the point even if he had. Being moved instead of moving implied a lack of consent; somehow they were transferred against their will. This fell in line with Brooklyn's desire not to be made used again, and the cover up enforced that, particularly if he was concerned that Near would manipulate him. That vulnerability, made evident by the slip, wasn't one wisely shown to someone he thought would be able to twist it to his advantage. And then he named himself. Near, who had chosen what name to go by but had never named himself, found little to debate with over the reasoning. Brooklyn wasn't a bad name at all.

It also was a trait that confirmed what Near had of course suspected from the wings and his urge to protect: that Brookyn's race wasn't human, nor the dominant race of his world. It seemed almost genetic that they be submissive in a way, and further perpetuated by a lack of names, words that gave some uniqueness and greater sense of identity to those who held them. So then why had they decided to change? The hobby of naming everything was, to Near's best knowledge, distinctly a human trait. If they were satisfied with their position, why go against it?

Perhaps it was evolution at work. Or perhaps not.

"Why did your clan decide to name yourselves at all?" Near blatantly ignored the muttering Brooklyn did. The man couldn't see on his own the wisdom behind assuming that someone didn't know they had explosive and flammable material enough to blow up a large section of the building and of course themselves? No, he wouldn't respond, but the disapproval was evident on his face. As Brooklyn worked to secure the items, Near gathered more: bleach, toilet bowl cleaner, batteries, extension cords, and the box cutter. These too were placed in bags and stacked, save for the box cutter, which Near held on to. Again, not perfect or even suitable considering his limitations, but it was a defense.

"When you are finished securing those, we can leave. Bring the tape as well." No, that also wasn't being left behind. There was of course more he would like to carry away, but the handcart had to be filled carefully and with restraint; hopefully Brooklyn would be amiable to return tomorrow, if he didn't make his own plans.

Brooklyn was starting to get fed up with Nate's questions. No, scratch that. He'd gotten fed up a while back. It wouldn't have been so irritating if Nate had been a friendlier sort of person. He considered answering the boy's question with a simple Because we felt like it. He probably wouldn't have left it at that, though.

"There aren't many of us left," he sighed. "We were starting fresh and it was easier on our human friends if we were named." It was, admittedly, something he found he enjoyed more than he thought he would. Something with a name had more meaning to humans.

As they finished up, Brooklyn stuck his hand through the hole on the duct tape roll, carrying it on his wrist. He took hold of the cart without asking. He wasn't even sure Nate would be able to push it.

Brooklyn's irritation was obvious to Near, but then, so was the solution. He had no obligation to answer any of the teen's questions, after all. More importantly, there was little Near could do if he did refuse. Some of the answers were easily enough discerned, but Near could only go so far with the data he had. For example, Brooklyn's most recent statement made it clear that whatever their situation was, he and his clan were trying to make the best of it, viewing their forced move in a positive light. Equally optimistic was having this viewpoint when something had happened to reduce the number of his clan. Whatever had happened, be it an evolutionary removal of his species from the planet, or something more intentional than nature, Brooklyn had likely seen a large part of it happen. This would of course lend itself towards action as opposed to natural progression, but that would be based on Brooklyn's apparent age as he currently appeared. There was little way of knowing what his true form looked like, or even if that would be an accurate representation of how long he had been alive. So while he still thought that action was the cause, particularly if the dying out of his clan was linked with their move, Near knew it couldn't be assumed.

And he knew this because again, Brooklyn had chosen to answer a question.

Near thought it odd when the man went to the cart, as if he would push it. "It would be better if I pushed it." Based purely on physical terms, Near of course would have a harder time of it; he was already tired, after all. But in the respect of whose hands should be free in case they came upon something, Brooklyn was clearly the better choice. Near's newly acquired knife went into his pocket; his pillowcase had been the last addition to the handcart. That left his flashlight, which was held out to Brooklyn.

"I'm aware you don't need this, but I unfortunately can't see in the dark. If something attacks us, don't worry about holding on to it." Near already had replacements, after all. And more importantly, he wanted nothing to hinder Brooklyn's attempts to fight.

There was another matter, but that could be talked over while they traveled. For now, Near waited for Brooklyn to move so he could take his place, and work on pushing the cart along.

"All right..." Brooklyn was a little surprised by Nate's desire to push the cart, but only for a moment. The boy wasn't doing this necessarily to be kind, he realized, but so that the gargoyle could have his hands free to protect him. He supposed this was reasonable, though, and not something to be held against him. It wasn't as though Nate would be able to handle anything that attacked them - not unless he had a few spells up his sleeves.

He took the flashlight and made his way out of the room.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/463620.html?thread=37371396#t37371396)]

The first thing that Siegfried noticed upon entering the room was that whoever had broken in beforehand had taken a large amount of the supplies. There were still some things left, but there were gaps on the shelves where Siegfried knew more supplies had been.

“The batteries should be kept in here, but…” he trailed off, because he was sure Xelloss, like himself, had realised that the batteries may have already been taken. “We should search for them anyway.”

"My, it seems to be quite picked over!" Xelloss was a little more blunt as he looked at the shelving. He had opened his own flashlight to see the 'batteries' inside, although he still wasn't sure he could disassemble and reassemble it in proper order on his own yet. Didn't it require a special order for the batteries?

Still, he looked over the shelves, trying to find something that looked like the batteries or something that might contain batteries. There was no luck there, but eventually he did find something else... another set of flashlights, in fact a pair of them. Lifting one, he pressed the button, and light emitted. "I found batteries! They're already loaded, however."

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Nightshift 35: Janitor's Closet

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