damned_institute | Night 37: M81-90 Hallway

Clark was glad to get out of the room once he handed over the metal to Leon. Awkwardness wasn't really something he was a big fan of and he felt bad that it looked like he'd freaked out last night; maybe he had even freaked out, although he really had been trying to help...but he hadn't really been as successful at that as he'd hoped. He just hoped his trip with Kvothe wouldn't turn out like it had with Leon.

He flicked on his flashlight, testing it out. The new batteries didn't seem to help make the light any stronger but at least it shouldn't go out this time.

Clark set off down the hall, hoping to beat Kvothe to the main hall. With his super speed, he should've been there already but he opted instead to walk. It was the one power he hadn't really tried to use because honestly, look how well his others had turned out. Tapping into his speed, he could end up running right through a wall, splat into the wall, or nothing. Nothing would've been the high point: he would've taken no powers over out-of-control powers. He didn't need Dad here to tell him how dangerous this could be.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/517557.html?thread=42440117#t42440117)]

Leon wasn't any more interested in lingering than Clark was, but it took him a moment to hide away the relatively small amount of metal that had been saved from the night before. He also took his spear and knife, prepared for trouble even as he hoped there wouldn't be any.

Just in case the mirror creature from the night before had been something particular to that bathroom, Leon decided to raid a different one tonight. He knew the chances were slim that this move would be any help in avoiding fights, but it was better than blindly repeating the same actions that had ended so poorly last time.

[skipping a couple halls to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/517557.html?view=42461877#t42461877)

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/513517.html?view=42462445#t42462445)]

The hallway was relatively quiet, although the mutant could smell recent scents of patients who had moved through here not too long ago, including the familiar scent of that kid he'd suspected had some kind of owers, but hadn't let on. He was suddenly hesitant, another trait he was not all too familiar with. He'd made no plans, had no idea where to go from here. He only hoped that Cole or Osborn would have the presence of mind to check on him. Logan decided to give them a few minutes; if neither showed, then he resolved to try and track down Steve. He'd not seen him in a while, after all.

Thankfully, the hallway was mostly empty. Mostly, but there was one person here, and thankfully, it was the person that Marcus wanted to speak with.

"Logan." It was good that he was alive and still here, though Marcus figured that Logan was the type to go out with a fight rather than just vanish quietly like so many around here.

The mutant had smelled his companion long before he heard him. Luckily, his nose hadn't been damaged the night before; ot was proving to be his most valuable asset in this place. "Cole," he responded raspily. He knew that Statesman had low-level vision on par with his own, so doubtless the man would have caught sight of the extent of his injuries. "Where tha hell you been?" His tone wasn't entirely tetchy, but there was an underlying current of frustration; they could have used his help against Venom. Still, that was in the past now, he supposed.

"I've been here," Marcus commented. "But I didn't see you all day..." Logan had probably been resting, but Marcus wasn't happy with that tone.

Of course, with as injured as he was and the way things went, Marcus wasn't going to hold him against it. "Brock did this?" They were going to have to do something about that kid, though it wasn't like they could lock him up in a place like this.

True, they could beat him up, but there was no good long term solution except the one Marcus refused to take.

Logan coughed, but fortunately there was no blood this time. His stomach still churned after his meal, and he knew it would be pure pain once it went through his still-recovering bowels. But he could deal with it. "Yeah, I was restin' mos' o' tha day..i's...no' been good." He coughed agina. "Bu' where were ya las' nigh'? Ya 'chieve anythin'?" This was more important to Logan than his colleague's apparent absence; if they weren't working directly together, they could always divide their talents to hopefully achieve more.

"Yeah," he continued, without waiting for a further response. "Jus' like me, they took him, n' turned him 'gains' tha patien's. Psycho kid like him, well, 's'lucky tha' me n' Osborn foun' him 'fore he did too much ta anyone else." Once again, he failed to mention his own psychotic tendencies, but the hypocrisy was not lost on him all the same. And it hadn't been so good that Hrry had been there; the kid had been pretty cut up, just as he himself had. However, as usual, he'd much rather take the pain himself than see it inflicted on the less hardy patients.

"From wha' I c'n tell tho', they don' take tha same patien's all too often. N' if I'm righ', tha means tha Brock ain' gonna be all tha powerful tha nex' time I see him. An' tha' means, he's gonna ge' his comeuppance, soon as I'm healed." Another wracking cough served to confirm that this wouldn't be happening any time soon.

"Go' any plans fer tanigh'?" The mutant asked, knowing full well he'd be of little use in a fight. He cursed again silently.

"No... I wasn't able to get anything done last night. Rest as much as you need to," Marcus said. He wanted Logan to be in good shape as quick as possible, the less time any of them spent injured the better. If he'd been there, though, maybe he could've done something.

The lack of progress was irritating, but he was determined to stay relatively calm for the meetings he had later tonight. He didn't want to go to them in a bad mood.

"There are some new heroes that have recently arrived. I spoke to a girl earlier today, an archer... she's out with some help looking to get materials for a bow, and I have two people to meet tonight. In addition, there are apparently a couple of kids here that were heroes in their worlds," Marcus didn't exactly disapprove of kids being heroes in general, but he had to admit, sometimes they could be very difficult to deal with.

The frequent coughing was concerning, and reminded Marcus of the state he'd been in before drinking from the Fountain of Zeus. "You should rest... or go to the clinic, they might have someone with healing abilities. If you want, I'll go with you, I have to head in that direction anyway."

Logan listened to Cole's 'report' with interest. "New recruits, huh?" He coughed again. "Need all we c'n get." After Statesman's advice, he found himself with mixed feelings. "I don' really nee' healin', c'n do't m'self...tho no' as well's I'd like. However...I ha' been meanin' ta check ou' tha clinic. In fac', I go' somethin' they migh' wan'. Gimme a sec." With that, he stepped back into his room as quickly as his injured frame would allow.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/513517.html?view=42462445#t42462445)]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/513517.html?view=42801389#t42801389)]

He closed the door behind him, having been gone for less than a minute. "Check this ou'." He proffered the box to Cole for inspection. "Been meanin' ta show ya this fer a few days now. Managed ta scare up some medical supplies with an 'associate' o' mine a few days ago. Figured they migh' fin' 'em useful."

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/513517.html?thread=42462445#t42462445)]

There was a relatively small number of people in the hallway, but otherwise it looked very much the same as it had when the nurse had walked him down here before dinner. Patients milling about, chatting, passing through on their way to other hallways...were circumstances different, this could be mistaken for any other Institution at nighttime.

Were circumstances different.

Bruce kept his expression carefully neutral as he turned his attention to his roommate, deep in conversation with another man--evidently someone he trusted. What startled Bruce was that the man his roommate was talking to was fully costumed--blue and red, with a helmet that seemed to be of some European design. There was a large star across the man's chest, and three smaller stars on each of the man's arms.

I have blue stars drawn on my shirt.

Granted, these stars weren't blue. And for all Bruce knew there could be more than one crimefighting-superhero-man-in-starry-tights running around the Institute. Still, there was something about the way the man carried himself that reminded Bruce of the person Bruce'd "talked" to on the bulletin board.

...well. Neither of them were familiar, and if one was in a costume that Bruce had never seen, there was a good chance that at least they were from different worlds. There was no harm in trying to talk to them--especially if either man thought he could defend himself against the kind of "attention" the costume no doubt could draw.

Bruce shut the door behind him, watching.

Marcus took the box and examined the contents quickly, it was difficult in the dim light, but he got the idea. He handed the box back to Logan as he spoke.

"It would probably be a good idea to keep some supplies to carry with you for emergencies, but I'm sure the people in the clinic would appreciate it," Marcus said. He wondered if there was anyone there that would have healing abilities like those Numina possessed.

The sound of someone exiting Logan's room and the sound of the door closing drew Marcus' attention away from the other hero.

The Canadian took the box back, confident that his companion had discovered all he needed to know about its contents. "I tole ya, Cole, don' nee' no supplies, don' nee' no healin', all I nee' is time. There're others who c'n make much better use o' this stuff than I ever coul'." He shut up pretty quickly, however, as he too noticed the sounds made by Bruce leaving his room. He zoned in on the man's location, eyes easily picking out the dark outline against the door's frame.

"We ain' alone. Frien' o' yers?" Some patients had the right idea, just trying to survive, helping where they could. Others, however, just seemed to want to cause yet more trouble. Logan couldn't tell from the man's scent which motive he might have on his agenda.

They'd looked up when he approached, which saved Bruce from having to draw attention to himself. Stepping away from the door, he walked towards the pair and stopped a comfortable distance away; they both seemed cautious people, and he didn't want to alarm them.

"Hi," he said, smiling but keeping his expression neutral. The tone of his voice, though casual, was a far cry from what he'd used earlier with Harley. Bruce didn't trust them, but if he insisted on maintaining the facade, they would never trust him, either.

"Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but I thought I should introduce myself. You're my new roommate, right?"

"No... I don't know him," Marcus commented. Though he might be one of the people Marcus was looking to meet tonight. Marcus was listening carefully, and didn't hear anything odd about.

"New roommate? His, or mine?" Logan was a little unsure of their new companion. He seemed too glib, too self-assured, especially for a patient in this place. "An' if yer gonna introduce yerself, well, mos' people do tha' by offerin' their name." After the fight he and Osborn had gotten into with a brainwashed Brock, the mutant was swiftly reaching his limit for taking unnecessary chances.

"I'm Logan. This here's Statesman," he had no problem using his own 'name' (although it had been an alias for more than a hundred years), but figured that Cole might prefer his 'codename' when being introduced, especially after admitting he didn't know the other man. "You are?"

"Bruce," he said, pausing only briefly before offering his full name. Logan...Bruce had seen that name before; the man had responded to Marcus Cole's post. Now that he thought of it, the man's edginess and caution made sense; a veteran fighter, likely with accelerated healing abilities...seemed like the man had friends he'd like to protect. Statesman appeared to be one of them.

"Bruce Wayne. Your roommate," he added, nodding in Logan's direction before turning to Statesman, the smile by now completely gone from his expression. Voice still neutral and carefully interested, he kept his posture relaxed and (hopefully) nonthreatening.

"So you're Statesman."

Logan's room mate? Marcus gave a quick glance to Logan in the darkness before looking back at Bruce.

"Yes, I'm Statesman," Was Bruce a hero who had seen the bulletin board? Marcus looked at him warily. There was also the chance that he was on the wrong side, too. He could very well be one of Recluse's Arbiters and Marcus would have no idea.

Either way, the fact that Bruce was so calm and controlled reeked of intense training. So he was either a cautious, experienced hero, or a cautious, experienced villain.

How had he not noticed? As far as Logan knew, the bed was empty when he'd left the room, and again when he'd returned. Was he really getting that sloppy? They must have put him on something whilst he was out. Come to think of it, that would explain why he'd been asleep for most of the day. And truth be told, he wasn't feeling all that clear-headed, either. This was not good.

There was no time for such thoughts now, however. Especially with this...Wayne guy standing here all cocksure as if they were waiting for a bus together. Something about it didn't feel quite right to the mutant, but it wasn't enough to raise his hackles, either. On the other hand, it would take a lot for he and this Bruce character to start acting all chummy. He may be the Canadian's new roommate, but as far as Logan was concerned, he had a lot to live up to before he could be considered even a modicum of a replacement for the man whose bed he would now occupy. Still, there was no harm in being civil for the time being, unless this man gave him any reason not to be.

"Sorry kid, I had a lot on my min' o' late. Nothin' personal." He held out his hand to shake, unsure if if the other man would take it. This Bruce might take offense to being called a 'kid', but since he looked to be somewhere in his mid-thirties, as far as Logan felt, the title was fairly accurate. Anyone younger than him could be considered a kid in his eyes after all, even Cole, although that man's exact age was still open for debate. "We oughta walk n' talk. Ain' no sense in spendin' another nigh' standin' aroun' jawin'." Cole's suggestion that they pass the infirmary was a good one, and Logan felt he could get some idea of where this Bruce was coming from on the way there. He'd probably part ways with the two of them once they arrived at M35, but in the meantime...well, there was never any harm in learning all you could in a damned place like this.

The smile was back on Bruce’s face when he responded to Statesman, but this time, it was less of a polite expression and more of a natural response. "Statesman...I think a friend of mine mentioned you—Wally West?"

No recognition of the name from either of them. Bruce allowed himself some small relief at the same knowledge—at the very least, it didn’t seem like he’d have to concentrate too much on maintaining a persona around the two of them. From the way Logan spoke and how Statesman was watching, Bruce could sense how reluctant they were to trust him. Similar to how Bruce was analyzing their reactions and attitudes, Bruce Wayne was being judged as well—what he did now could very well determine how and if they were ever going to be able to work with each other in the future. While Bruce had yet to make a decision as to whether he wanted to try this “working with other people” thing—it still didn’t sit well with him, but from Wally’d told him about their future it could very well be inevitable—but in case he needed to...

Sorry kid.

...somehow, Bruce doubted the “rich, dumb socialite” reaction would be appropriate.

Logan’s caution didn’t offend Bruce—quite the opposite. Although the two men didn’t seem overly concerned with keeping their identities or powers secret, they didn’t go flaunting it in other people’s faces, or trust just anybody not to take advantage of them. If they were careful about who to trust, chances are, they could be careful about how they used their powers—maybe. Unless, of course, they were people like Lex or Ra’s, in which case, they simply had things to hide.

"No offense taken. I’m a pretty hard person to live with myself, but I hope that if we’ve any differences we’ll work them out."

He was a bit surprised to hear Logan offer to walk together; in truth, he’d half-expected to be dismissed and sent along his way. But if the other man was offering...

"Thanks for the offer, but if I’m interrupting something or if you two were going somewhere...well. I doubt I’d be much help, but if you’re willing to try it, I’d be glad to come along."

"Wally... yes, I know him," The man Marcus suspected to have superspeed. He had too much in common with the other heroes Marcus knew with superspeed, and the way he'd behaved pointed to hiding powers, but he had no proof about that.

Logan's habit of calling everyone a kid was a little bit amusing, now that Marcus had gotten used to it. Bruce had certainly taken it well, though Marcus suspected the other man was trying not to get into an argument with his new room mate.

He was certainly very diplomatic in his responses, and seemed to be well-practiced at social interaction.

"No, you can come along, it isn't safe to wander around alone, and I'll be able to handle anything we come across on my own," They weren't heading anywhere that was known to have strong monsters or brainwashed patients, just from one block to another.

"We should get moving though, morning has a habit of sneaking up on us when we least expect it," Marcus took the lead and started moving forward, more slowly than his usual determined pace, both for Wolverine's sake and Bruce's.

[Going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518543.html?thread=43025551#t43025551)

And just like that, the doors opened. S.T. had been ready to go long before the intercom had crackled to life twice in short succession. All he was waiting for was the starting gun.

Still, he did one last check, patting each pocket in turn. First-floor map, right pocket. First-floor map, right pocket. A couple of blank sheets of paper, two pens, and the rest of the maps and his shopping list, left pocket. Pillowcase, right coat pocket. Radio, tied to a makeshift belt that had started out life as a set of pants. Flashlight, right hand. Too bad it was too damn heavy to turn into a headlamp without some real rope. Having two hands free -- or his right hand free to carry something heavier than the light -- would be a big plus.

He opened his door into the side hallway without turning on the flashlight, and squinted into the dark for a long minute. Then he shrugged to himself and flicked the light on. Not falling on his face outweighed stealth any day.

[to here]

Edited 2008-12-10 02:16 (UTC)

Waiting in the safety of his room was far preferable to going out on his own -- but Fwiffo still couldn't feel a hint of nervousness as he waited for the Captain to arrive. Of course, being a Spathi, what was a "hint" of nervousness for him would have been closer to screaming terror in someone else.

Some people just didn't know how to handle fear, he supposed.

Leon grabbed his things together in a rush once the doors opened. He felt a bit bad for Keman, but he wanted to get as much done tonight as he possibly could.

And unfortunately he hadn't gotten Ed's room number. That meant the best he could do was run to M6 and ask Mr. Hughes there if he knew the right room. If he was lucky, Ed might even be over in that room again. He'd just have to be quick.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518543.html?view=42592143#t42592143)]

It had been a good dinner, even if his roommate hadn't shared, but Xelloss was starting to face the idea that no matter how long he waited, Hellmaster wasn't coming back.

He could ask, but they'd gone to such trouble not to be generally connected here, particularly useful for him since Lord Hellmaster had always wanted a bit in the realm of subtlety. Not that he'd criticize the higher-ranked Mazoku, it was just a difference in style. There was a reason they'd avoided speaking even in Lina's company, after all.

But what would he do with his present? And was Zelgadis still here? If so, it would be convenient in dealing with him to have Phibrizzo abruptly vanish; if not, it wouldn't really benefit Xelloss at all. Leaning against the wall and frowning into the darkness, he wondered how long a wait would qualify as polite for his purposes. He didn't think it was particularly anonymous, considering the ways these things could be tracked, but he would try to find a way to ask 'quietly' on the board. If there was no response, he'd move on as though alone.

Had Hellmaster's second chance been taken away by the whim of the Lord of Nightmares, or was this simply more of the Institute's oddness?

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518543.html?thread=42743695#t42743695)]

Ryuk was supposed to go.... someplace. Upstairs, right? Ok. So, where were the stairs? This was a pain in the ass, but there wasn't much to do in his room. paper planes. Shadow Puppets. Kinda dull. And if he just looked around a few rooms, he'd get an extra apple, right? Right.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518543.html?thread=42667151#t42667151).]

Edited 2008-12-11 00:41 (UTC)

So Archer wasn't there any longer.

No... no that wasn't right. All Brook really knew was that Archer was no longer his roommate. He couldn't be certain from that alone that his former-roommate and friend had just gone and vanished!

But when Nami had gone...

Brook remained in his room for a long while, pondering the situation. He had no plans and no one to meet tonight - and now no one to follow out either - so he had the time to spend. And it had been a while anyway since he'd just taken the time to sit still and just think. Not since he'd wound up here really. Or, on second thought, not since he'd finally joined with the Straw Hats!

How were they doing tonight, he wondered.

After some thoughts on where his friends might be, Brook found himself thinking on where Archer would be at night as well. He'd usually be heading for the basement wouldn't he? Brook had even been on the pathway towards the basement more than on time before, so he shouldn't even be questioning it!

If Archer was still here, he'd be heading towards the basement!

"That's right! Yohohoho!" Brook hopped to his feet and strode over to his closet, "There's no question of where he would have gone. This is no time to be sitting around! He may need my assistance! Yohohohohoho!" He whipped a metal bat from the closet and set it against his shoulder before turning towards the door. "Worry not Archer-san! Hanauta Brook is on his way! Ah, I hope he doesn't scold me too much for being late!"

And with that, Brook laughed his way out into the hallway.

Wonka looked up from the remains of dinner, surprised that the voice coming from the Intercom was not that of the man he had heard all day - nor a twisted characature of him, as the other patients seemed to have indicated. The woman's explantation of Doctor Landel's absence helped, of course, but that still left the question of who this woman was. An aide, perhaps? Or maybe the "radio voice", undercober by day? Wonka pondered the topic for a few minutes, until a burst of static, followed by the second half of the announcement, served to clarify things further. The woman was definitely an aide or employee, speaking for the "good Doctor," if a bit sympathetically.

Well, no matter. The doors had unlocked, and that was Wonka's signal to get going! He sprang up from his chair, and after locating the flashlight from beneath his pillow, he picked up the notebook in which he had hidden his map, gave a tip of his nonexistant hat to Mr. Brook, and stepped out the door.

[ to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/520443.html?thread=43251707#t43251707) ]

[coming back from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/517557.html?thread=42937269#t42937269)]

Leon was a little short of breath by the time he made it back to his room; between the effort of breaking down the pipes to begin with and then dragging them back here, he was tired. But just sitting around recovering wasn't in his nature, so instead of resting he started finding places to hide the metal right away. Tomorrow night, it would hopefully all be worth it.

Once the metal was all stored away, Leon finally took just a few moments to rest. He had no intention of staying in his room long, but a brief pause couldn't hurt. Careful not to invite the risk of falling asleep, Leon sat down at his desk and focused on slowing his breathing. The sweat dried on his skin, his breathing and heart rate returned to normal, and Leon felt strength returning to his limbs.

Ready now, Leon did one last thing--he took a fresh shirt and one of the heavier over-shirts from the dresser drawer. It was cold outdoors, though nothing like Phandaria's snowy winters, so the extra layer would be helpful. Leon knew there were coats in the closets, but they were too bulky and confining. He did put on the shoes he'd taken from the Patient Possessions room, though--much better than slippers, for going outdoors.

[and leaving, once again, this time to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518543.html?view=42947471#t42947471)]

Bourne had barely tasted his dinner. The short conversation with the girl had been fruitless, and he was restless and ready to roll. After inspecting his new roommate and determining that he was not a threat, he prepared himself for the night.

There was a file room. Bourne needed to know the lies they were telling about him.

And just like that, after the doors opened, he was gone.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518393.html)]

[ from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/520443.html?thread=43251451#t43251451) ]

One foot out into the corridor, and Wonka knew why flashlights were such a hot commodity here; even with the light from his door, he could barely see ten feet in either direction. He switched the flashlight on, and made a cursory check of his surroundings before continuing southward. But that "cursory check" got him thinking. Everything he'd seen that night - from the oppressive darkness, to the suddenly cracked paint on the walls, to (now that he thought about it) the eerie monotone of that lady on the nighttime announcement - it all exuded a sort of subtle malevolence, the kind that he hadn't experienced since...

...well, yesterday afternoon, actually. Which was as much proof as anything thus far that the principles behind the Institute and Minusland were, in some way at least, similar. Now what had he done to get the Elevator's glucose engine to make that jump in the first place...

[ to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/518393.html?thread=43251961#t43251961) ]

Night 37: M81-90 Hallway

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