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- claude,
- depth charge,
- goku,
- haku,
- ishida,
- matsuda,
- obi-wan kenobi,
- sanzo,
- schuldig,
- vlad
NIGHTSHIFT 37: M41-50 HALLWAY
A click and the dry crackle of static was all it took to get Depth Charge on his feet. I’m coming for you, X. Checking his equipment and maps one last time he switched the flashlight on and opened the door.
The hallway was darker than it had been when he last entered it, and Depth Charge found himself hovering uncertainly by the door until his optics became accustomed to the shadows- a fact that immediately riled him up more than it should have done, since his usual optics sensors would have adjusted themselves instantaneously. As it was, it served as yet another reminder of how fragile this body was. Almost completely reliant on the light of his flashlight, he’d have to be vigilant if he wanted to keep himself in one piece.
Barely a klik later and he was off again, sizing up his options; according to his map, on his left was a dead end and on his right a door. Not the most difficult decision he’d ever faced. He turned right and paced purposely towards the end of the corridor and the next hallway, keeping one suspicious eye fixed on the doors he passed by.
[to here]
From M43
He glanced towards Schuldig. "Is there anyone you need to find, or are we heading straight to the second floor?"
Re: From M43
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/522566.html?thread=42496838#t42496838).]
M45
What he knew in this moment was only this moment, the suddenness of jerking upright, of clawing blindly at sheets and covers as if they were binding, of breathing in rapid staccato gasps, of his hands pushing at the cloth and simultaneously groping at his abdomen, fingertips scraping over the unfamiliar fabric of his shirt, attempting to soothe the internal wound that no longer existed.
His breathing continued in the dark. His eyes moved, unfocused, squinting, blind. They adjusted to the dark, but would need more than that to get by. Before he could think, he felt around him for his spectacles. Once in position, pushed along the bridge of his nose, Uryuu tried to set his mind against this.
Hueco Mundo? The Octava? Too much worked against it, how real the bed was, how nothing had after all bound him, the utterly different and absolutely weaker concentration of spirit particles, and the clothing in which he found himself. But if not Hueco Mundo, then what? Uryuu had visited "heaven" - this was not it. As he moved to pinch himself, he felt the cool slide of metal on his wrist; his bracelet, his pendant, his pride.
Though he would never have admitted to a certain perplexed anxiety, that nonexistent plague began to fade as his fingers brushed, in brief, the pendant.
Without any other way to make sense of it, he denounced it an uncanny dream, denying a sinking certainty that it was anything but for the sake of productivity, and climbed of out bed. He had little other choice, and began a search of the room.
Fifteen minutes later, flashlight in hand and a pillowcase thrown over his shoulder, Uryuu peered at the open door. It had proved impossible to actually fit everything in the only thing close to a sack that he had managed to produce, but if it was in the dream, he was disinclined to leave it behind. Perhaps it was a game of a dream, where three pens would open a later door, where he would trade a sweatshirt for a key - if nothing else made sense, at least he could comfort himself with this excess.
He tried the radio. He opened the journal and quickly penned down a note, all the while resisting the maddening thought that all of it was too real. And after stuffing an extra pair of slippers, one sweat shirt, a set of batteries, a key ring, the radio, the journal, and fifteen pens into the pillowcase, he clicked on the flashlight and moved out of the room.
Calling out, Uryuu thought, would be a pretty stupid idea. If this was a dream (and it certainly had to be), it didn't look like it would be a very good one - he had never liked hospitals, and even in the dark, he could recognize that a hospital was precisely what this was.
Regardless, he had little choice but to move, and so he did, following the pale light down the hallway.
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M44
Fortunately, it didn't take Claude long to get dressed in most of his Federation attire. After grabbing his flashlight and the bulging pillowcase of metal, he paused long enough to glance over the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He knew Ashton's sword was still resting beneath his mattress, but whether his friend would finally come claim it tonight remained to be seen.
But he had places to go and people to meet for now. He would deal with whatever the morning brought to him when the time came. Sighing to himself, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway.
((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/516608.html?thread=42549248#t42549248).))
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Nothing.
He felt fine. No fever, not sick at all. It was like the virus was gone. He knew it wasn't, but... maybe it went dormant?
That meant that he had to search tonight, make the most of this time. Leon had no idea how often the virus reappeared, or how advanced it might be when it did so. A weapon would be good... maybe some other items to add to his collection of medicines, too. Leon quickly dressed, irrationally pleased about his new/old clothing. Even though he thought it was kind of mean to include an empty holster.
He collected his flashlight and trusty baseball bat, then flipped through his journal, trying to recall where things were. He knew he needed to get up to the second floor, if nothing else. And tonight was M-U again, so no patients in the halls to avoid. Just the normal monsters.
With something of a plan in mind, Leon headed out into the night.
[Jumping up to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/524456.html)]
M48.
Re: M48.
The chimp's door was cracked open. Sanzo frowned. It could mean either one of two things: he was still here or he'd taken off. Either way, it was stupid to leave the door open like this. Was it really too much to ask for the monkey to have an ounce of common sense?
Sanzo pushed it open.
Goku had his back to him. He was hunched over one of the beds, rooting around for something.
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There wasn't the relief one would have expected. This was something else. Goku's face was a mixture of emotions; hopeful, crushed, suspicious. He wasn't saying anything, either, just staring at him.
Waiting for him to make the first move?
Sanzo entered the room, closing the door after him. "Wipe that dumb look off your face."
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Sanzo didn't move from the door, just dropped his hand from the knob. Goku wasn't looking at him. While it was good that the kid was finally being cautious, it was worrying at the same time. They had a strange connection that Sanzo still didn't quite understand, but it should be enough to tell Goku the truth.
...Unless something had happened to it during that period he'd blacked out.
There was also something off about Goku, but at least right now, Sanzo couldn't put his finger on it.
"I'm pretty sure I'm me," he said. Along with all the aches and pains from whatever happened.
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Goku didn't need to spell it out; those three words were enough. There wasn't any doubt in Sanzo's mind any longer.
He really had been killed.
How and why he was alive again was another question entirely. He was still trying to register and accept the whole dying part first. The thought that he'd been brought back was against the very laws of heaven and earth, what he believed in himself. He could handle being shot at or having the crap beat out of him. He could handle assassins. This was something else.
Sanzo didn't immediately reply. He felt numb, a great pit in his stomach. Maybe a little nauseous, but he couldn't tell if it was from the healing wounds or from having his suspicions confirmed. How the hell did you deal with something like this?
At least he could focus on Goku being in one piece. Landel hadn't screwed him over, even though the monk had lost in the arena. He could focus on that, and then figure out how to track the Head Doctor down.
Sanzo moved to the bed opposite of Goku, and gingerly sat down.
"I won't," he said. "I didn't exactly plan for that to happen, moron." Sanzo added.
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Sanzo held a gloved hand out. "Give it to me." In light of recent events, and especially the fact that Goku must have seen him die, it was harsh. But this was something he'd put his life on the line for over and over. He had to make sure it was the real thing.
"And bring the cigarettes and matches under there."
It'd be brief, but he'd caught a glimpse of a very familiar box when Goku reached under the mattress.
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Sanzo didn't notice that little uncertain shrug, too intent on the sutra. With his other hand, he unrolled the scripture, smoothing a hand gently over its surface. A finger traced the sacred text as he read it.
The sutra was like an extension of him at this point, in a way. He'd lived with it so long that he would know it anywhere. He knew what written on here by heart. He knew each little stroke, each little perfection and imperfection on it.
So far everything looked like it was where it should be. The only thing off was that it seemed muted. Usually he could feel a warmth off it, but it was barely giving off anything. Could it be the dampening affect here?
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Goku shifted next to him, and then the monk felt a hand touching his hair.
Sanzo didn't lift his eyes from the scripture, although his hand did still on it.
He didn't look up just yet. "What do you think you're doing?"
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He turned to look at Goku, the movement drawing his hair from his fingers. The chimp was acting weirder than usual, but in light of everything that happened, it made sense.
Normally Sanzo put a stop to Goku's seeming inability to not touch everything, immediately, but for once, he let it go.
"It's fine," Sanzo said. He tapped open the cigarette box, and drew a stick out. "How did you find it?"
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Suddenly Sanzo's hair was forgotten. The sheet was much more interesting. Goku mumbled something, but Sanzo didn't quite hear it.
He wasn't having any of it. Sanzo grabbed his chin and firmly turned his face towards him, making him meet his gaze.
"You aren't making any sense, idiot. Tell me exactly what happened after he ran me through."
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From the sounds of it, they'd all somehow appeared outside of the coliseum. If Goku had been able to carry him back, then that meant his wounds had been healed the moment Sanzo had collapsed. Landel had made sure that he'd screwed with the monkey's head one last time.
He abruptly released Goku.
In silence, Sanzo finished removing the cigarette, and put it to his lips. With his free hands, he struck up a match, and lit the cigarette. Shaking the match out, he let it drop to the floor, where he ground it out with a sandle.
He took in a few drags, but it wasn't as soothing as it usually was. He had to live with the fact that what happened to him wasn't natural, that he didn't know exactly what occured in that period between blacking out and the morgue last night. Goku had seen everything.
Sanzo let out a small breath."...You did fine."
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He'd have to find out more about it, but it probably wasn't going to be from Goku. The kid would've been too focused on him on the arena floor to pay too much attention.
"It could be another trap." Except it was hard to tell what was the truth and what was a lie with the Head Doctor. The South Hall had been a trap, yet he'd kept his promise about letting the others go.
Sanzo looked at Goku. "I don't want you going down there. Is that clear?"
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He wasn't having it. It was Goku tagging along that had gotten them into this. It wasn't the kid's fault that he'd ended up in the arena or been targetted , but - as much as he hated to admit it- the monkey was a chink in his defenses. Sanzo wasn't about to allow the Institute another chance to use him against him like that.
"No. You aren't in any position to be setting conditions for me. You're the dumb ape here, not me."
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He wouldn't allow it to happen again.
"No, you fucking aren't!" he snapped."I survived before I met you. I can manage by myself."
Sanzo stuck the cigarette back between his lips, taking a drag.
"You'll only get in my way." he added.
Not entirely true; Goku was inhumanly strong, and despite the immaturity, even Sanzo could see he was a natural fighter.
M42
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Content that he had everything, he slipped out into the corridor.
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Starting off in M47
Sixteen minutes later, he screamed in frustration and gathered up his weapons, remaining medical supplies, and left. He would deal with the repercussions for this later.
God help anyone that tried to stop him tonight...
(going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/522327.html?view=43001943#t43001943))
From M45
He set out once his supplied were ready, using a pillowcase as a makeshift bag. By now, Chopper knew the way to the clinic's hall very well, since it was the same hall as Luffy's and Usopp's rooms.
He set forth, hoping he could be of some assistance.
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It was only after serious thought that he transformed, and after giving a little time so the hallway could be nicely cleared for the evening. Vlad's reasoning behind the change, aside from the fact that the coat at least added some bulk to the outfit and made him look faintly less absurd than in the t-shirt, was that it was after all a special evening, having been given a nice present, and he really ought to at least try to accomplish something. It was hard to keep scolding Daniel when he spent his own evenings idly... well, not hard, but Daniel might eventually comment on it.
Despite the change, he brought the usual flashlight and pipe with him. After a glance down the hallway, he hurried off. Where to? His roommate's plans were a bit grandiose, but his own ambitions were for the moment small. Just see a little something new, perhaps.
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