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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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.

Ed eyed Leon warily as the young man picked up the weapon and tested it, hoping that it was alright. He'd followed the design given to him exactly, so any problems weren't his fault. He grinned though when Leon said that it was alright, nodding. "Good. I hope it works well for you." One more person armed, how many hundreds to go?

Some things just couldn't be explained by a drawing, like balance, but that was also the sort of thing that a swordsman could adjust to in a new weapon, so it was hardly critical. Leon saluted briefly with the sword, almost smiling. Almost. "It will serve. It's been good doing business with you. If there's nothing else...?"

"You're free to go," Hughes said, with a smile. "Glad we could be of some service."

He knew that there were people who didn't agree with giving things away for free, but... it was a lot easier to call in favors later when you were giving things away apparently free and clear. People remembered things like that.

Ed bristled at the implication that the sword was only 'good enough'. It was damn good work! Better than a lot of smiths could manage, not to mention much much faster. He just glowered stonily at the floor and let Hughes deal with it before turning his attention to the older man. "Hope it serves," he said, a little sourly, grumpy now that his work hadn't been properly appreciated. He was doing people a favour. He could have just refused.

It was rare indeed for Leon to verbally acknowledge a job well done--it took quite a lot to impress him, and even more to make him admit it. He might as well have written a sonnet for Ed, and it would have been no more of a compliment then 'good doing business with you.' That Ed couldn't possibly know how astounding it was for Leon to compliment him even that much, well, that wasn't Leon's problem, as far as he was concerned.

Letting the sword fall to a resting position at his side, Leon bowed gracefully and turned to leave. "This will not be forgotten. If you have need of my service some night, let me know." And then he made his exit, not leaving time for a response--it was embarrassing enough to have said that much.

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

"Yeah, the usually say something along those lines," Hughes said, as the door closed. He leaned back, shaking his head a little. "And that's why you don't ask for anything in return. People are more likely to offer out of feeling like they have sort of obligation than if you present it like a deal. Present it like a deal, and you get 'wait, if they really wanted to help, they'd just do it for free'. Do a favor...well, mankind generally has a guilty conscious."

It wasn't often that Hughes actually discussed his reasoning or his deeper machinations with Ed, but...well, he had promised to treat Ed more like an adult.

"So, I guess you want to know about what happened last night," he went on, glancing over at the young alchemist.

"That makes sense I guess," Ed said thoughtfully. It wasn't exactly equivalent trade, but as long as it worked, he supposed it didn't matter. He felt a little awkward requiring things off people later on that hadn't been specified, but as long as they got repaid in the end he was willing to live with it. "I don't understand people," he added with a grimace. He never had and probably never would.

He gave Hughes a serious look and nodded. "Yes," he replied.

Hughes nodded in return.

"I can give you the long version, or the short version. Short version sums it up pretty well, though." He rubbed at the thick stubble on his chin and exhaled, not quite sure how to explain what had happened. He supposed just telling Ed was the best way to go.

"I had another run in with Envy last night," he finally said, his tone serious but not dreadfully so. A man recalling an unpleasant dream, rather than dispensing with words of doom. "I guess he figured he needed to do the job again, I don't know. Came right in the door, swinging some glass knife and punching, trying to overtake me with surprise, I guess. I had a guy in here with me, learning some self defense. He got knocked out, and I had my knives on me so I just sort of...went on instinct." He shrugged a little.

"It was over almost before it started."

Ed opened his mouth to say something, but froze when Hughes mentioned Envy, his expression hardening into something very very close to hatred. Envy who had killed Hughes and kidnapped Al and who was... The thought made him feel rather sick. He just stared as Hughes described what had happened, hand clenching into a fist at his side. He was going to hunt down that bastard and...

"Over?" he asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. What did that mean? Hughes was alive and...

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Nightshift 38: M1- M10 Hallway

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