damned_institute | Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

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Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

Dean had taken a nap after dinner, figuring that he might as well grab whatever rest he could before he took off trying to find supplies for a full-blown exorcism. His sleep was fitful, the hunter tossing and turning in the bed, eventually settling for sprawling face down in it with his arms flung around his pillow. When he woke up, Angel was gone. Dean rolled over to sit up, jaw set as he rubbed the sleep from one bleary eye, still breathing heavily. Cold Oak. Fucking Cold Oak. That was over and done with, yet he was still having nightmares about the goddamned place, as if enough wasn't enough that all of that was far behind him now. Reaching up, Dean took in a slightly shaking breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he told himself he wasn't gonna keep waking up in cold sweats feeling Sam's blood all over him, and, if he was, he would deal with it 'cause it was just a bunch of dreams. Wasn't real anymore. He'd saved Sammy.

When he stood up, he was ready to get on with the night. He'd find his little brother, no matter what, even if he had to get his information from that demon Punk-Ass and not by asking nicely.

Dean was even looking forward to it now.

Heading over to the closet, Dean opened it. His clothes hung there in the closet, all perfectly folded, just like it'd been this morning when he'd left it. Feeling under his jeans, his fingers closed around the bowie knife's hilt. Setting the knife aside, Dean began changing, shrugging out of his simple patient clothes and kicking them aside so he could put on his real clothes. The last things to go on were his boots and jacket, the weight of his pendent settling comfortably against his chest. Dean turned his attention to getting ready for the night. Flashlight? Check. Bowie? Check. And something to carry more than a handful of salt...Dean improvised, removing the pillow case from his pillow and balling it up so he could stuff it in his pocket.

Ready as he was ever gonna be. Aside from being bandaged up still, he was good.

Dean consulted the map he'd copied his first day here from the bulletin board. If he was gonna try to get hold of a rosary, it'd most likely be in Patient Possessions - someone here would've had to be a Bible-thumper who believed in God and all that stuff at some point, right? Salt, he figured the kitchen. As for something to deal with Punk-Ass, he figured he'd need some rope (or duct tape, if they didn't have any rope just lyin' around) and something to draw out the Key of Solomon. Not to mention water; kinda hard to make holy water when you had the holy but not the water. First thing was first though; he still had that meeting with that "R" chick - he thought it was a chick - in F-A hall for that spare flashlight.

The hunter turned on his flashlight and opened M2's door, stepping outside.

[To here]

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[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/546983.html?view=44943527#t44943527)]

Leon wasn't staggering by the time he made it to the correct hallway, but that was largely because it took a great deal to make Leon lose control that much. He was definitely feeling the effects of dragging around a heavy bundle of metal the night after being fairly seriously injured, and not just in that the cuts on his back had re-opened somewhat. At least this place's rapid healing meant that he wasn't gushing blood like he would have been without that extra help in recovery.

Catching his breath once more, Leon let go of the sack of metal and raised his good hand to rap sharply on the door to M6.

Hughes was already up and about after his roommate had slipped out, getting himself ready for the night. Maybe they were suffering, but he was going to keep on getting weapons to people and making sure they could use them.

"Come in!" he called at the knock, this time staying away from the door and keeping a knife in his hand. He wasn't about to take any chances.

Leon exercised caution as he opened the door, as well, not wanting to get caught in some sort of trap. He kept himself out of the path of fire as the door swung open, and only after a heartbeat passed and nothing happened did Leon come around into view and enter the room.

"Would you mind grabbing the metal?" Leon knew it was possibly rude to ask the smith to do more work, but he gestured to the fresh blood staining the back and shoulder of his shirt and hoped that the older man would understand the problem--carrying that metal was aggravating his wounds.

"Shit," Hughes exclaimed, seeing the blood and the way the man was angled in pain. He rushed over to take the metal, and offer his shoulder. This was probably Leon, here for his weapon.

"Take a seat on the bed," he instructed. He wasn't going to let the man go out there with open wounds. "Have you had these looked at?"

Leon ignored the offered shoulder, but saw no reason to refuse to sit down, at least. He was a bit tired--despite his skill and training, his size did work against him when it came to brute strength, and dragging that metal all this way was something that required only brute strength. "They're from last night. A few stitches broke on the way over here, it's nothing to be concerned about."

"You're hurt enough to be bleeding," Hughes pointed out, fumbling around in his desk for the makeshift first aide kit he kept. There wasn't much to it, just a bit of gauze and some rubbing alcohol and a few pills, but it was good to hang on to.

"You want it cleaned out? You've got a few minutes before you get your weapon," he pointed out. Ed wasn't even there yet. The metal had just been dumped unceremoniously in the center of the room - injuries were a little more important than alchemy, at least in Hughes' opinion.

Leon would have shrugged, except that that was probably the worst possible movement he could make at the moment, given the location of his injuries. "Might as well, then, if we're still waiting on something." Leon had no idea how this metalsmithing worked, after all, and wasn't about to press for details--if the guy said wait, they waited. A sword was worth any amount of trouble, here.

"We're waiting on Ed, he's our alchemist," Hughes explained, pulling out some rubbing alcohol. Ed would probably not be too long, he rarely was. And depending on how things went, maybe Hughes himself would get out tonight.

"Worst thing around here is infections," he went on. "Broken bones and everything, they get treated in the morning and they can wait for it. Infections...some of those can be nasty and swell up within hours. And this place isn't exactly known for it's cleanliness at night." He grinned a little, trying to keep the mood light.

"So how'd that happen?" he asked.

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/549333.html?thread=45285845#t45285845)]

It only took a couple of minutes to reach Hughes' room and he knocked lightly at the door when he arrived, announcing his presence so that he didn't end up at the wrong end of one of Hughes' little knives. "It's Ed!" he called out.

Leon shrugged out of his shirt and started unwinding the bloodied bandages--at least the ones he could reach--so that Hughes could get to the injuries. There was a little more blood than he'd thought from the few places his shirt had been sticking to, but it still wasn't all that serious. The slashes from the bird's talons were shallower than they should be already--this place's healing magic at work. "One of those big birds outside. Killed it, though."

At the knock on the door, Leon's good hand went to his own knife, but fortunately Hughes had mentioned Ed's name just a moment ago, so Leon relaxed again as the other man announced himself. As much as he ever relaxed, anyway.

"I've seen those," Hughes said, nodding. "They look like a nasty piece of work." He rubbed a bit of the alcohol into the wound, looking at it with practiced eyes. "Looks like it's not too bad," he said, nodding.

His eyes jerked up at the knock and he tensed for a moment, relaxing at Ed's voice.

"Come on in, Ed!" he called, going back to wiping away the blood from around Leon's wounds. You couldn't keep those too clean, as far as he was concerned. "He'll be making you your sword. You'll be out of here in no time," he promised.

And then he'd talk to Ed about last night.

[From here!]

Anise's arms were getting tired from carrying the heavy metal-stuffed pillowcase. Fortunately, she was about to be relieved of it. M6 was right ahead! It looked like somebody else was already at the door; a blond kid who wasn't any bigger than she was. The Cooking Club sure had a lot of kids, it seemed like.

If he was an ally, then there was no problem with approaching him, even if he was a stranger, right? "Oh, hey! You're here for the club too, right?" she greeted him with a bright smile, approaching until she was next to the boy. Hopefully it wasn't too strange of her to join him out of the blue like that, but hey! Cute girls could get away with those kinds of things.

"I'm here, too! It's Anise!" she called to whoever was inside, using a cutesy, almost singsong tone of voice. "I brought a delivery for Brigadier General Hughes." Not knowing how the guy preferred to be addressed, it was probably best to refer to a soldier by his title, wasn't it? That's how it normally was with the Oracle Knights. If it was too formal she'd get corrected, but if she wasn't respectful enough, it could leave a bad first impression. That was the last thing she wanted.

At least being the second to arrive saved her the trouble of knocking and opening the door while her hands were full with two pillowcases and a flashlight. Anise grinned over at the stranger, fully expecting him to do the gentlemanly thing and escort her inside.

"Yes," Ed said, nodding warily at the girl who came to stand next to him, not recognising her. Then again, he didn't know most of the people in the 'club' so it wasn't surprising. He thought he might have seen her around in the Institute, but hadn't really paid much attention.

He completely missed her expectation about being escorted in and pushed right into the room when Hughes called back, shoving the door open and jamming a foot in it to keep it open. "What happened?" he demanded of Hughes, giving him a worried look. "There was the message on the bulletin and..." He couldn't lose him again, he really couldn't.

Leon didn't flinch at the sting of the alcohol in his wounds, though his habitual scowl did deepen just a touch. It was almost funny, how little hurts like that could feel worse than the injuries themselves. Something to do with the rush of battle, no doubt, dulling the pain so that he could function in a crisis; just sitting here on a bed, though, there was little distraction.

When the door opened, a young man Leon assumed was 'Ed' entered, along with a young woman Leon felt as though he'd met before. After a long moment, Leon realised where and when they had met--in front of the institute on the night after the first field trip. So, the annoying girl was still alive. Leon wondered if the pudgy old man was, too. Ignoring her, Leon nodded to 'Ed', though the other boy seemed to be involved in talking to Hughes at the moment.

"And we'll talk about it later," Hughes said, tossing aside the bit of cloth he'd used to clean Leon's wounds. "I'm fine, as you can see for yourself. Let's just say...I took care of some old business last night." He wondered if Ed would understand what he meant. He didn't want to talk about something so personal and involved in front of other people. He hoped Ed would get that much from his cryptic answer, at least.

"Thanks for the metal," he went on to say to Anise, smiling. "You can just dump it with the rest, that'll get us ahead of the game. Ed, this is Leon, he's our client for the evening. Ed here's our alchemist, he'll get you set up."

They couldn't all be princes, could they? It was a sad realization, but Anise didn't let it get to her, accepting the less-than-gentlemanly gesture as good enough. She followed the boy - apparently named Ed - inside and took a quick glance around.

Anise immediately recognized the black-haired boy who was already sitting in the room. He was that ungrateful brat from last week, wasn't he? Leon. He was injured again? He seemed to recognize her, but he immediately turned his attention to the other boy. With a phony yet enthusiastic smile that would hopefully cover up any ill will she had for him, she offered a casual greeting. "Oh, Leon. Long time no see!" Jerk. Would it have killed him to say hello?

So this older man was the club leader. Not as handsome as the Colonel, but at least he wasn't scary-looking or anything. Anise beamed at him when he spoke to her. "Ehe. My pleasure!" She set the pillowcase, stuffed with pipes and a few steel funnels, down in the indicated place.

So the alchemist of the group was that Ed kid... Anise sort of wanted to see what the whole alchemy thing was about, but right now she had places to go and people to meet. It was probably best to leave them alone for now.

"I better get going. Nice meeting you!" Balancing the flashlight and the other pillowcase in one hand, she raised the other to give the Brigadier-General a cute salute that was hardly standard for any army she knew, much less the Oracle Knights. To Ed, she gave a sweet smile. "You too! Bye-bye!"

Her pleasantries finished, the girl made her way out of the room.

[To here]

Ed looked Hughes over with narrowed eyes. He didn't seem unduly injured, not even bruised, but that still didn't mean that everything was alright! Old business? What was that supposed to mean? It didn't tell him anything. He looked stubbornly at the older man for a long moment, wanting to demand more information complete with excruciating detail and a list of names of the people who he needed to punch for daring to try and hurt Hughes. He was not forgiving where Hughes was concerned, not now that he had him back.

But he could tell that Hughes didn't want to talk about it, or at least, didn't want to talk about it with other people there so after a moment he nodded, jaw set into a grumpy line making it clear that he wasn't happy at all with it, but would go along for now.

He blinked a little in surprise when the girl gave him an entirely too cheerful smile as she left, but quickly turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "What kind of weapon do you want?" he asked.

Leon was quite content to pretend that there was no suspiciously vague and heated conversation going on over his head--it wasn't that he was polite, he just plain didn't care what Hughes and Ed's problem was, as long as it didn't interfere with him getting a sword. So when Ed changed the topic to the one Leon actually cared about, he was able to respond without the slightest hesitation or awkwardness.

Pulling out a drawing (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v244/kuukan/random/chaltier2.jpg) he'd done of Chaltier, Leon explained briefly, "Never mind the embellishments, of course. I was just drawing my sword from memory. The hand guard is necessary, though." Like hell was Leon losing any more fingers to this place--a handguard would at least be some help in protecting the fingers of his left hand. There were also notations of measurements on the drawing, indicating that the sword was approximately three and a half feet in length from tip to pommel.

"Stick around after you're done and I'll fill you in," Hughes said gently, taking a seat once more. They had plenty of metal thank to Anise, Ed was fresh (or so Hughes assumed) and Leon would get his sword. Another customer done. At least Hughes could establish a reputation for getting people their weapons, as promised.

It was better than nothing.

And he'd at least tell Ed what had happened. He deserved to know, after all.

Ed nodded in response to Hughes, flashing the older man a smile. He wasn't angry, he just hated being left out of things. He needed to know things, especially here, otherwise what use was he to people he cared for? "Okay. Thanks," he said and then turned his attention back to Leon and the sword drawing.

Not a katana at least, but that meant that he'd need to draw another array to make sure that he didn't waste any energy. "I can do that," he agreed readily and pulled out his journal, beginning to carefully draw out the complicated circles and symbols which would allow him to create the sword. He peered over at the drawing again, making a few rough calculations in his head about the weight and length before adding more symbols to the array. He liked it when things were complete here; having all of the details made things much easier.

He ripped the array out of the book and placed it on the floor then began to root around in the pile of metal for what he needed. "You seem to be good at getting hold of stuff," he said with a grin at Hughes.

As the other two men continued their not-exactly-a-conversation, Leon took the opportunity to pull his shirt back on. The spots of blood that had seeped through were dried now and scratchy against his freshly-cleaned wound, but that was a minor irritation at most and not worth leaving his shirt off to avoid.

Leon was curious about the way this alchemy was performed--it seemed to involve fully as many diagrams as engineering--but not curious enough to actually ask questions as long as things seemed to be going well. It seemed unlikely that he would be able to use the information in any way, as he had no talent for using magic without Chaltier's help.

"Cooking Club might not be getting much done these days, but we sure do have a good cache of supplies," Hughes agreed, smiling some. At least that was something to be proud of.

"At least it means anyone who needs a weapon can get it, even if they can't get the supplies for it." He certainly liked it best when someone was able to bring them, but if need be....

Ed nodded, grinning up at the older man before turning his attention back to the metal and the array. "You're nicer than I am," he murmured softly before closing his eyes and pressing his fingers to the edge of the array. Slowly the metal began to twist and shift as it curled into the right shape for the sword that he was making. It wouldn't be fancy, but it would be practical as a weapon. Finally, the blue sparks died down and Ed leaned back against the bed, squeezing his eyes shut. It worried him that he was getting used to the weakness which followed a transmutation, like it was natural rather than an effect of this place. He felt a sudden surge of violent hatred towards Martin Landel and everyone who worked for him. He loathed them all.

"It's done," he said quietly after a moment, opening one eye to gaze up at Leon. "I hope that's okay."

The process was interesting to watch, if a little unsettling. Generally speaking, in Leon's experience, metal sparking and becoming malleable was a sign of great heat being generated--not something that would be safe in this small room. And yet, the temperature didn't seem to have changed significantly and nothing had caught fire, which meant it was something else at work altogether. Very curious.

But Leon's interest in the process was quickly and completely overwhelmed by his interest in the weapon it produced. He didn't answer Ed's comment at first, instead picking up the sword silently and examining it. The balance wasn't perfect--Leon wondered if the hands-off nature of alchemy led to a lack of connection with the object being created--but it was more than good enough to do, in Leon's expert hands. It would never replace Chaltier--it was just a lifeless hunk of steel, after all--but it was so much better than kitchen knives that there was no point even comparing. "It's good. Thank you."

"Glad we could help," Hughes said, honestly. Every time they were able to arm someone, to teach someone how to defend themselves, it was one more step in the right direction.

And while Ed rested up after the transmutation, Hughes could fill him in on what had happened the night before.

Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

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