damned_institute | Night 36: Staff Lounge

Entry tags:

brooklyn,
near

Night 36: Staff Lounge

[From here]

The door opened without noteworthy effort, and Near immediately noticed that this new room was as dark as any of the rest, creating a cliche foreboding atmosphere within. Brooklyn was the first to go inside, a wise tactical move, then Near followed, pushing his cart along. The hand truck was left by the door, however, and Near quickly cut his flashlight free with the box cutter so he could use it within the room.

"We will have to search for whatever it is." How thoroughly remained to be seen, as did what might potentially trigger any traps associated with the clue. Given that the locations had been veiled, however transparently, Near assumed that the items shouldn't be easily obtained. But at the same time, the protection of indirect revelation would lead one to question who wasn't supposed to know where these items were hidden. The obvious answer was of course Martin Landel.

Yet if that were the case, why would there be more difficult traps around the clue at all? Near knew there were, from his conversation with Usopp. Had they been hidden in more dangerous locations on purpose? Another bit of the puzzle that would likely need to be pieced together before it made sense.

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Near watched with unchanging expression as Brooklyn struck the creature. What came out was certainly putrid, yet Near still wished he had an adequate container for the substance so he could test it should the materials become available. Since this hell wore the guise of a hospital, it was likely that the materials needed for such examinations would be available in one of the rooms. Near decided then he would have to carry at least one bottle for collecting specimens in the future. Though he was trained more to examine results from crime scenes rather than half-rotting flying zombie lions, it still seemed prudent.

Equally prudent was ensuring that the creature's eyes didn't have a chance to adjust to the light. Turning it on and off would only create the same effect for Brooklyn and himself, however, so instead Near systematically moved the light away from the creature's eyes, estimating the time it would take for the pupils to dilate before returning the beam to its original position. Keeping the light focused on the monster's body made returning to the original point a simple enough task, though it also revealed rather unsavory details about what Brooklyn was fighting.

Then it soared up.

Arial attacks would come much more swiftly, and thus be harder to avoid. This was not only the case for Brooklyn, but for Near as well. Certainly not pleased by this fact, Near continued to focus the light on the creature. "Don't do anything heroic to keep me from harm, Brooklyn." This was an immediate concern, since the probability of Near being struck had just risen a significant amount. "One thing I'm very good at is judging angles and distance. I might not be able to avoid everything, but I won't be seriously struck."

Physical conditioning was quickly becoming a top priority on Near's list now, in terms of future goals. Any damage wouldn't be due to his inability to predict the creature's path, but from his utter lack of physical abilities. Regardless, taking some injury was an allowable affect, provided Brooklyn killed this creature. "Focus on striking where and when you can. That will be what ends this quickest, and ultimately stops further harm."

Arial attacks should come more swiftly, except that their location didn't exactly allow for it. Gargoyles glided, and thus required currents of air in order to get off the ground. Gliding inside was near impossible, and he knew first hand the difficulties of maneuvering inside buildings. This was just a lounge. The ceiling wasn't particularly high. Even if this allowed the creature to get above them it would be putting it at more of a disadvantage than anything.

Brooklyn had been knocked down by the initial launching, but he didn't stay down for long. The creature was large, and wings could be fragile things. It wouldn't be able to stay airborne long in a room this size - especially if the gargoyle was fighting back.

"Denying me heroics?" He switched both weapons to one hand in order to grasp a chair with the other. Nate was doing a good job with the light. "Stab me in the back, why don't you." He launched the chair upwards towards one of the Lamassu's beating wings and immediately went for another.

The Lamassu growled in triumph as it launched itself into the air, wings beating down heavily and knocking the prey that had wounded it off his feet. Its eyes had adjusted to the light as well, so it would first disable the annoying light-bearing patient- The light moved away, leaving the Lamassu blinded by the sudden darkness and unable to defend itself as the chair crashed into its side a moment before Brooklyn slashed its other wing. The leathery membrane caught and jerked at the blade, splitting with a sickening tearing noise and disgorging more pus and blood onto its attacker.

Yowling and shrieking with pain, the Lamassu went down hard but not without fighting; landing in a tangle of limbs and decomposing flesh it rolled sideways, trying to get a grip on Brooklyn with its powerful forepaws so that it could bring its hindlegs into play as well as its formidable mouthful of teeth. It was vaguely aware of the other patient moving the light back towards its head, but it was no longer facing that direction, so all that did was give it more illumination to locate its current target.

Near's lips quirked into a grin as Brooklyn shot back his reply, interpreting it as acceptance from the other. Perhaps Brooklyn's mild dislike of Near was part of the cause, but the teen was more hopeful that it came from experience in fighting. Despite the physical changes Brooklyn had undergone, Near was impressed by the man's combative capability. He'd attacked without hesitation, using both his own weapons and the environment around them; more importantly, he'd made the best use of all the resources.

Something confirmed by the two crashes which seemed to fill the room.

Now Near was at a bad angle to continue using the flashlight, the creature's back to him as it attacked Brooklyn. There were, of course, two methods to get around: to attempt to go behind Brooklyn, or behind the creature's feet. Both had distinct disadvantages. Going behind Brooklyn would cut off his available space to dodge, and poor timing could lead to a collision between the two, giving the creature ample time to pounce. Going the other way put the creature between himself and Brooklyn, something that could very well prove fatal should the thing notice, and create a prime opportunity for those heroics they'd just been talking about.

Then there was the third option, and that was the one Near chose. Moving the flashlight, he angled it so the light gave no benefit to the creature, but not so drastically that Near wouldn't have at least some warning should the thing decide to go after him instead. He watched intently, knowing that the thing's eyes would adjust to the dark again, and remained ready to point the beam the moment that they did. His reflexes were nowhere near what they needed to be for this situation, but for that much, Near was certain he was capable.

The second chair that Brooklyn had been going for ended up being used as a buffer between himself and the creature as he attempted to keep its claws at a distance. It wasn't going to last long under the onslaught, however, and the gargoyle gripped both weapons in his hands again.

He slashed and stabbed at the claws as they came for him. It was important that he try and keep the Lamassu from getting back to its feet. At the very least, he needed to damage the limbs.

At one point the claws raked into his side and he cut off a cry of pain by clamping his teeth down hard. This could get ugly.

The Lamassu snarled in frustration. There was a chair between it and its chosen prey and the prey was using it as cover while it continued to slash with its blades. While the chair wouldn't last long, the blades were a threat that couldn't be allowed to continue. Fortunately the Lamassu was faster, its claws catching and raking down the patient's side with a sound of tearing cloth and flesh, a sound that made the Lamassu bare its teeth in anticipation of triumph. Only to yowl loudly as a blade sank into the sensitive pads of a forepaw.

The pain made it leap back instinctively, hissing and spitting in rage. It was then that it noticed the light again, the irritating light that kept blinding it when it was trying to hunt, and the pathetically small and defenseless child that was the source of it. Things would be much easier if it disposed of the child and the accursed light first. Snarling softly, the Lamassu turned and lunged towards Near, mouth wide and teeth bared.

Near considered the biology of the human body, his body, particularly in response to fear-inducing stimuli. His amygdala was active, but regulated by the rostral anterior cingulate cortex. Regardless, his muscles were tense, and a light sheen of sweat had formed on his skin in response. His heart rate was increased, and Near found himself wanting to take cover. Instinctive, and a clear indicator of where his instincts fell in terms of the classic fight-or-flight response. Epinephrine and norepinephrine both were being released from the medulla of his adrenal glands, readying his body to react; and among other notable effects, Near's vision narrowed, tunneling as his eyes dilated further than they already had in the dark.

In all of his life, Near had never experienced such stimulation to the degree he was now. He's also never had a half-rotted mutant lion-based creature jumping at him. Cause and effect.

He was faster, thanks to the biological nature of fear. But faster didn't mean quick enough, and though he had no doubt that the additional speed due to the stressor saved his live, he still felt intense pain as the claws caught his arm, perhaps deeply enough to cut to the bone. He had thrown himself to the side, towards Brooklyn, so he wouldn't place himself on the opposite side of the monster. But everything had gone into that shifting of weight, and nothing into balance, or landing. So Near came down hard on his side, only a few precious feet from the creature. He wasn't safe.

His left arm was useless. Severe muscle and nerve damage, perhaps permanent. Assuming that the major veins of his arm weren't severed, of course. The amount of blood pooling from the wounds didn't seem indicative of a fatal cut, but there was no reason to be certain of it, particularly if treatment wasn't soon administered.

Or if the monster wasn't killed in short order. Yet Near still had in his right hand the object that caused the monster's fury, gripping it even as he had fallen. This new angle, while certainly not ideal, gave him opportunity to use it again. The light returned to the monster's face, blinding it, and buying a few more precious seconds for them.

"NO!" Brooklyn didn't care if he and Nate had their differences. For him to be hurt while under his protection meant he'd failed to keep him safe and that was unacceptable.

He ran after the creature, forcing himself to ignore the stabbing pain in his side. With a cry, he leapt onto the beast's back, knowing he'd have to deal with being buffeted by the wings. He couldn't allow it to do any more damage.

The blades were jabbed into the creature's flesh as means of holding on. If he could get close enough to the head, one of these blades through the skull...

Success! The Lamassu roared triumphantly as its claws caught the child's arm, shredding through skin and muscle as easily as it did the flimsy fabric protecting the patient. True, the prey had managed to avoid the killing blow it had intended, but injured as he was, Near could hardly avoid its next attack. Then with him out of the way it could take its time with playing with the remaining patient.

But then the child had the gall, of all things, to shine the light into its eyes again, blinding it. But if he thought that would save him, he was mistaken; for even blinded as it was the Lamassu knew that Near was only a few feet in front of it - an easy kill. Or at least it would have been had Brooklyn not chosen that exact moment to leap onto its back, driving his blades deep into its rotting shoulder and side.

That was more than enough of a distraction as the Lamassu roared again, flailing with its wings as it twisted and rolled, trying to shake Brooklyn free from his precarious position. Near had been temporarily forgotten, but was far from safe as the frenetic movements brought the Lamassu dangerously close to where he was lying.

Perhaps Brooklyn's method was an emotionally conceived one, but Near saw the validity of it. Then he was left with a combination of tasks that proved difficult, yet vital to staying alive. The first was to move, and quickly, the teen having to scramble with everything his body could manage in order to keep out of the the rolling monster's way and get to his feet. Brooklyn would have a hard enough time of it without Near being caught up in the mess; the younger hadn't missed his reaction to his ward being wounded, after all.

The second task was, of course, to use the flashlight to blind the monster, both with the beam, and with the darkness once its eyes adjusted to the light. Even with the movements, this would have been a simple enough task. As Near had said, he was talented at judging angles and making precise movements. Yet this relied on holding the flashlight in his hand, something he couldn't do between his injury, and his third task.

Opportunity.

The percentage was low, less than one, according to Near's calculations. But the movements could make defending himself unavoidable, and to that purpose, Near pulled out the box cutter he carried. No doubt it would lack the effect of Brooklyn's blades. Yet if it became unavoidable, or if the less likely opening presented itself, Near would have to take the opportunity to strike, not only for his immediate defense, but to reach a total defeat of the creature.

Something that he desperately needed. Near was gasping hard, his heart racing faster than any physical activity had ever made it. Physically he was weak, far below average, and now he was paying the price for that. He couldn't keep dodging for much longer.

Killing was something his clan avoided unless absolutely necessary. Gargoyles protected. Criminals were human the same as the rest of the city's inhabitants. They were turned in to human authorities to do with as they would. Perhaps in medieval times things had been different, but even then the killing of humans was left to other humans.

This wasn't human. It might have once been a creature like himself, but now it was set on killing both himself and Nate. if he hesitated to bring it down, he risked putting their lives in even further danger, and the monster wouldn't be grateful. No, he had to put an end to this now. It would be best for the creature as well, no doubt being used by the Institute more than they.

He drove one of the blades towards the base of the Lamassu's skull, still using the other to hold on, along with his legs clenched tightly around its middle. He'd strike as many times as he had to. The creature needed to be brought down.

Try as it might, the Lamassu couldn't seem to shake Brooklyn free with its enraged struggles and rolling. The prey was stubborn and right where he couldn't be reached! It snarled again as he ripped a blade free from its side, shredding through the rotten flesh and bone with relative ease, and drove it into the thick muscles of the Lamassu's neck.

It roared in agony, buffeting at the patient wildly with its wings in a last-ditch effort to dislodge him before its eyes, blinded with fury and pain, locked on Near. There was a target for its frustrations, injured, small, and convieniently close. With a hate-filled growl, it struck, a huge paw coming down to pin the boy so it could finish the job with its wicked rows of teeth.

Though between awkwardly tucking the flashlight under his good arm and maintaining the angle of the beam at the creature's face made it difficult, the screams from the creature were a positive sign. The inflection and volume were both similar to when it had been hit by the chair, meaning whatever Brooklyn had done likely had caused it pain. Near, of course, was hoping for much worse, knowing that delaying the fight would only increase the chance of injury to them both.

Or, as the creature's latest movements indicated, to Near specifically.

The choice was likely instinctive, and certainly sensible. Near was the weaker one, injured, and more easily reached than Brooklyn. Certainly the teen had no malice or hatred for the monster for simply following primitive urges. But simple understanding wasn't a free pass for the thing to take his life; Near had no desire to die, and thus he would do everything he could to live. The only question remaining was whether or not it would be enough.

Near wasn't fast enough to avoid the creature when it deliberately struck out for him. He had tried to jump back, though the movement was as much fall as it was leap. The massive paw came down on his leg, effectively trapping him in place, and the jaw was quickly following. Near only had a moment to assess the options, but that was more time than he needed. Gritting his teeth, he brought the box cutter up as hard as he could, aiming for the left hinge of its jaw. Brooklyn would have to strike an instantly fatal blow to keep Near from being bitten at all, and that was unlikely. What Near could do was decrease the pressure of the bite by destroying half of the muscles and ligaments that let the jaw close. That, and throw his left arm up in front of his body. Already heavily damaged, it was a better thing to bitten than his torso or head.

Why wasn't it down yet??

Brooklyn gave an angered cry, his grip on the monster slipping. He couldn't allow it to harm Nate any further. Enough damage had already been done to the teen as it was. If he were to be killed here, the gargoyle didn't know what he'd do.

He rammed the blades in further up the Lamassu's skull, trying to find the weak point at the base of the neck, somewhere he could get into the skull and take him out for good. "Just DIE," he growled, burying them deep.

One huge paw pinning the child, the Lamassu closed it for the kill; mouth wide and rows of overlapping, sharp teeth bared, it snapped at Near, mad with hunger, rage and pain. Only his quick actions with the box cutter saved him from the full force of the bite; the slim blade bit deep, parting the rotted and decaying sinews and muscle and lodging against the bone of the creature's jaw.

As it bit down, Brooklyn's blade finally found its mark, penetrating a vunerable spot at the base of its neck and scraping against the bone as he drove it in as deeply as possible. The Lamassu would have roared its pain, but the sound was muted by the extensive damage to its skull and jaw - it was already dead, it just didn't know it yet.

But even as the life - if that was what it could be called anyway - ebbed out of it, the Lamassu seemed intent to fight to the finish. Its wings still buffeted Brooklyn as it stumbled and fell heavily forward, the combined weight of its body and Brooklyn driving the jaws down at Near.

But that seemed to be the last it could do, as it gave one final, shuddering breath and went still, its bulk now resting heavily atop the patient beneath it.

The pain was intense, and two-fold; first the bite of course, doing greater damage to an arm already injured. He hadn't been able to position it as perfectly as he wanted due to the previous wounds, but by angling his arm in a certain manner, he'd been able to reduce the additional injury by keeping most of the limb on the cut side of the mouth. The damage he had done to it by slicing half of it's jaw open drastically reduced it's biting power, particularly on that side. So while it was worse, Near hadn't suffered so much as he could have.

From the bite.

The second part of the pain came when the creature fell forward, it's head landing directly on Near's torso. Because it had already attempted to close its mouth, damage from the teeth would be minimal there. The sheer weight, however, of the monster's body combined with his ally was more than enough to force out a sound mixed with pain and shock from the intensity of it. Near's head rolled back, and suddenly he found it very difficult to breathe.

"Brooklyn." Near knew the other man was suffering, but lacking any desire to suffocate, he also knew that time was an important factor now. Amazingly, he kept his voice steady, empty of the panic he could sense rising in the back of his mind. "I need you to get this creature off of me, if you would please."

Finally the creature fell still. Brooklyn was going to wait, see if there was any chance it might rise again, but Nate's voice brought his attention back to the more important things. He pulled his weapons free and tucked them, still covered in gore, back in the pockets of his robe.

Then he stepped off the dead monster, staggering sideways several steps before falling over. He was bruised, dizzy, and was still bleeding fairly heavily from his side. Nate was trapped, though, and he had to free the boy before he was crushed any further.

With some effort, he got himself back on his feet and by Nate's side. "Hold on... I got it." It would have been nothing had he been his normal self, but moving the creature now was a more difficult task. The sight he was greeted with when he did caused him to hiss. He'd allowed his charge to get that badly injured. Such a great protector he was. "I'll... I'll wrap that up best I can."

“No.” Near said that not because his wounds didn’t need treatment—far from it. But now that the creature was dead, new priorities came into play. Brooklyn’s injuries were at a minimum equally severe. Though he couldn’t see to truly assess the extent, the sound of the man’s stumbling footsteps followed by the heavy thud of his body hitting the floor made it obvious that Brooklyn would need immediate treatment.

A frown crossed Near’s face at the thought. Their supplies were limited to say the least. To use clothing would require the clothing be torn, and clean enough to be used. While most of Near’s shirt hadn’t been so stained by blood that it was still an option, the teenager was dismayed to discover that at some point during the altercation, he’d been so afraid that he’d wet himself. It was a natural response, and Near’s negative reaction wasn’t out of any sort of embarrassment, but dually out of only realizing it at that moment, and that the cloth could not be used for a more important purpose due to the contamination.

So far, all of the news had been bad.

“Cut off your shirt, but move as little as possible to do it.” Sitting up brought a new wave of agony, leaving Near rather certain that at least one rib was cracked; the absolute best case scenario, and one that didn’t take into account the damage to his leg. It took more effort than the normally detached boy was used to expending to force his body to do what he wanted. Every bit of his physical response screamed an urge to do what he had instructed Brooklyn to, yet that was not an option in this instance. The benefit to the extent of the injuries they had both suffered was that the creature was nearby, and Near only had to shift a short distance in order to retrieve what he wanted: the box cutter.

The blade was hardly sterile, but it was the best option. It could cut fabric with the least expenditure of energy in the shortest amount of time. The only additional concern was the way Near’s hand shook when he lifted the cutter, putting the blade into the collar of his shirt and pushing down. Minor scratches accidentally incurred by the act he could handle. Yet it was so odd to have to think about making such a mistake, given his normally exceptional motor control.

“Try to make strips out of the cloth that isn’t already blood-soaked, and treat your injuries if you can. If you can’t, I will.” Near’s voice remained steady and deceptively calm, particularly now when dizziness was beginning to set in. Yet he knew that succumbing to the urge to lay down would do no good. Their injuries had to be treated, and then there would be two goals left for them, neither of which involved leaving the room.

One was to find their prize and claim it. The other was simply to survive until morning.

Brooklyn had already been removing his coat and he set it aside. It would be a bit thicker and they might need it intact. The shirt then followed, and the gargoyle pulled out one of his blades, wiping it as clean as he could on the bottom of the coat and using it to slice it and save them time.

The most bloodied of the mess was set aside, though even that might be useful later. The coat had taken a lot of the gore from the creature, but plenty of that had gotten the shirt underneath as well. When all was said and done, there was less clean shirt than he would have liked. He began wrapping with the cleanest bits, leaving that to touch the skin while the dirtier strips could cover over it. He bit his lip to keep from hissing every time he jerked a makeshift bandage the wrong way.

When he was satisfied that he'd done the best he could for now, which probably could have been better but he considered his wounds secondary, he moved to help Nate with his. "I'm more used to fighting than you are," the gargoyle smiled weakly. "This... isn't anything."

Near's efforts were slower than Brooklyn's, which likely wasn't something that would be any less true were they both healthy. But under these circumstances, where Near was physically spent and left with only the use of one arm, the observation was even more apparent. By the time Brooklyn moved to help him, Near had only just made a single strip out of the remains of his shirt. It was an unpleasant process, as he was forced to make a small cut, then hold the cloth in his mouth as he ripped a length of it free. If his injuries were any worse, the likelihood of his bleeding to death before he could prepare treatment would have been high.

"I thought we'd already established--" Near winced as Brooklyn began tying a strip around his injured arm, yet made no indication for the other man to stop. "--that I was denying you heroics." Yet the repeated joke was all Near would say on the matter. Anything they would accomplish from this point on would be due to willpower in place of physical prowess. To that end, there was no benefit to point out that simply due to extent, the probability of neither of them surviving the night had increased drastically against their favor. It was more important to finish making what he could from his shirt, and then to find the promised item; to force some measure of success in exchange for the heavy price both of them had already paid.

Brooklyn just snorted at that. When he thought he'd done as much as he could for now, the gargoyle stood on shaky legs and began searching over the room again now that there was nothing else to attack them.

A basic sweep with his eyes revealed nothing, so he slowly began making his way around the place. Television... coffee maker... nothing which would be of any real use to them here. There was a mini fridge, and he opened that to find a few beverages and some cheese and... something that didn't belong in a refrigerator at all. He picked it up, glancing it over. Was this what Nate had hoped to find here? Hopefully.

He grabbed a pitcher of juice as well, bringing both it and the weird tool back to Nate along with a couple disposable cups. They'd both lost blood, and while this wouldn't go far to fixing things it might help keep the mind clear.

Near watched Brooklyn as the other man searched, so much as he could in the darkness. The time at rest allowed his breathing to return to normal, and the pain of his body to come at him as the biological buffer caused by excitement and terror faded away. It hurt to move, more so than it hurt to not move, so Near stayed where he was, and looked over the monster, considering. He and Brooklyn both would do well to clean off the wounds; mouth and claws would hardly be sterile anyway, and the creature itself was in an advanced state of decay. Was that a side effect of whatever process had put it together?

Brooklyn returned after a brief period, and Near silently nodded when he was offered the item. He quickly identified it as a stun gun, the hand-held version that was highly effective, but required the target to be in arm's reach to use. He wouldn't complain, however, as that night had made it clear just how quickly the creatures of this place could get close.

Of course, Brooklyn had a claim to the item as well, a stronger one than Near did. Because he hadn't announced the find, Near assumed that the other didn't have knowledge of the item, or what it did. He held it up, thumb on the trigger. "This is called a stun gun, or a tazer. If you press the switch where my thumb is, it will release an electric charge." He did so, letting the sharp sound of crackling energy fill the room for a brief moment. "This is designed for use against humans, but it will likely be effective on most creatures. A single discharge is enough to temporarily stun most people, though it can be fatal if applied repeatedly in a brief window of time."

"It's yours if you want it. Of the two of us, you did the most work to earn it." Near knew that it was a valuable item in this place where weapons were in high demand. He also knew, from his personality type, that Brooklyn would likely refuse it. Near had been heavily injured, and Brooklyn's reactions indicated a level of guilt, one that perhaps had grown stronger since he'd treated Near's injuries. Regardless, if the man wanted the tazer, Near would give it to him. He was certain it wouldn't be wasted in Brooklyn's hands.

Near was right. Brooklyn shook his head immediately, busy pouring the boy a cup of juice with hands that weren't nearly still enough to be doing it. "I'm already armed," he said. "It will be of more use to you." After all, it didn't seem like something that required much physical force and weapons that relied on any sort of energy never sat well with the gargoyle. He was reminded of the odd guns Macbeth was fond of using.

He held the cup out, trying his best not to spill any of it. "Here."

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Night 36: Staff Lounge

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