damned_institute | Nightshift 38: M81-90 Hallway

The silence was excruciating: painful and long. A full minute had already passed by since either of them had spoken, the immensity of what they were about to face between then...the deepness of the wound and its implications splitting them apart as a wide divide.

Finally, he spoke.

"You...you aren't really..."

Kondo nodded, sighing heavily and expression solemn. "Yes...I'm afraid the rumors were true, Toshi."

Hijikata could only stare, aghast, uncomprehending not because he couldn't but because he didn't want to. Didn't want to believe that...!

"Then...you really are..."

Kondo nodded again. "Engaged, Toshi. To the Prince Barabarabossu from the Planet of Apenuts. Not only have I fully accepted my destiny as a proper gorilla, Toshi--I have become gay."

"But, Kondo-san...you're the only undeniably straight man in the series. You may be a gorilla, but you are also our Commander! We've prom--You can't j--"

"--there comes a time in every ma--no, gorilla's life when he must decide between doing the right thing and the straight thing, Toshi. I h--"

"Hold on a second! Why is the 'straight thing' wrong, oi?! Are you saying that the only way to be 'right' is to be 'that'??!! THERE'S SOMETHING SERIOUSLY WRONG WITH THAT LOGIC, KONDO-SAN! THE WORLD DOESN'T WORK LIKE THAT!"

"--I have decided at last to do what I can to save the planet, Toshi. This is my calling, and my Princess--no, Prince needs me."

Hiijkata could only stand immobile, mute and powerless as he watched Kondo-san turn away, tears in his eyes...

"I'm so sorry," Kondo said, fading...vanishing...

"I'm so sorry."

..................No. No, no, no, no, no. No, this couldn't be happening. No no no no no way was this happening, because it was impossible, this was impossible. No, this...THIS...!!!!

Hijikata bolted upright with a gasp, heart pounding and vision sparking. All around him was darkness...darkness like the fur of the Gorilla-Apenut-Prince he'd seen in his dreams. Black. Wide. Terrifying.

He forced himself to take a deep breath--settle himself. Calm. Hijikata blinked a few times and checked his surroundings, which while just as dark as before became steadily less horrifying as he began to take in textures, glows, scents...

...blankets.

Blankets? Hijikata felt around blindly for the edge of the covers, grasping it in both hands as he felt the stiff "just-cleaned"-ness of the cloth and sheets. The bed was cold, but it was a bed. What he'd just seen, then...it'd just been a dream.

Just a dream, he thought. Just a dream.

Letting out a sigh of relief that would've been embarrassingly loud were it daytime, Hijikata closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, regaining his composure and trying not to think too deeply about the nightmare. What time was it, anyway? It was difficult to think when his head was throbbing this much, but admittedly, the hangover was his own fault. Hijikata had never been a heavy drinker; one addiction was more than enough for a single person, and he doubted that he could figure liquor into budget along with all the cigarettes and mayonnaise. Not that he was addicted to mayonnaise, or anything; no matter what the Shogunate's Lexicon for Underpaid Labor said about "obsessive behavior," Hijikata maintained that saying someone was addicted to mayonnaise was like saying he was addicted to water. Or living. It was just that months of being a screwdriver had driven him to desperation, so much so that even now Hijikata was suffering from the aftereffects of the trauma.

Fucking aliens and their video gam--ow. Hijikata winced as the pain in his head grew sharper with every intelligible sentence.

Okay okay, no more thinking. Thinking now was useless anyhow--he was useless, in this state. It was still dark, so that meant there was some time left until morning. Yawning, Hijikata laid down again, pulling and then tucking the covers under his chin as he went back to sleep.

He got back up again what felt like hours later, unable to catch a single wink. There was something wrong with the bed. Hijikata's eyes practically creaked open, but as they adjusted to the dark, he began to notice that either a) the alcohol'd affected his depth perception, or that b) this futon was a lot higher off the ground than he was used to. Growling to himself as he kicked off the covers, Hijikata swung a leg over the side of the bed, confirming his suspicion when it hit cold, slippery ground.

This wasn't his room. Okay. Fine. Stranger things had happened before, and while Hijikata didn't wake up in weird beds often, it did happen. The question now was where he was--a question that'd probably be a lot easier to answer if he wasn't battling against the harsh pounding in his skull. He didn't want to turn on the lights, so he relied instead on touch to tell him where he was. Here the foot of the bed, here a chair and--ow! there something like a table...

A bed so high off the ground it had to be Western, actual furniture...Hijikata was starting to get the sense that this room wasn't anywhere in Headquarters at all. There was even a second bed off to the side, and some kind of cylindrical objec--

--Hiijkata's body froze, mind racing as he put together all the pieces. The two beds. The clean sheets. The strange quiet and clothing...

There was only one place this could be. Now that he thought of it, it wasn't so illogical, but still....!

....a love hotel?!

His eyes widened as the full impact of his revelation hit him. A love hotel, likely an expensive one from the size of it and the fact it provided complimentary pajamas...

...huh. Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't too uncommon for him to crash in a love hotel when he was too drunk to get home. There weren't any weird signs or smells in the room, which mean he hadn't come here with a lover. Hijikata resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead for his momentary panic. To get so worked up over such a little thing...while it was annoying to have woken up from such a crappy dream with a hangover in a foreign-looking room, so long as he knew where he was, he was fine. In fact, while he was up...

Turning, Hijikata felt for the wall, wobbling a bit as he walked around the perimeter of the room searching for some kind of door handle or hallway. The only door present seemed to lead to the outside, a fact that made Hijikata raise an eyebrow in something between irritation and surprise. What kind of hotel was this anyway? No bathroom? Well, he didn't really need to go, but if he waited now, knowing how much he'd drank...he'd probably just wake up later to go anyway.

In that case, he had better go while he was already up, regardless of the hassle. Sticking his feet automatically into the slippers at the foot of the bed, Hijikata braced himself for what he was about to face, hissing as he jammed his finger into the door while opening it. The light was (thankfully) not as blinding as he'd imagined, but nonetheless, Hijikata was not a happy person when he stepped outside.

Edited 2009-01-25 03:15 (UTC)

[sorry about the wait! D: I've had a pretty hectic couple of days.]

Keman "heard" Valyn's magic right as he was getting ready to leave for the night. Something twisted deep in the pit of his stomach, and he knew he needed to actually talk to his friend. His sullen, muttered "apology" earlier that afternoon probably hadn't helped things. He hadn't even given Valyn time to say anything.

They couldn't go on like this.

Keman set his own magelight, figuring that he might as well save his flashlight for an emergency. It didn't take too much magic to create, and it was basically self-sustaining after that.

He was walking down the hallway, ready to go find Valyn and face the inevitable, when a door swung open in front of him. Right in his face.

"What the--huh? H-hey!"

His nose hurt.

That was strange. For a second he almost thought the door'd hit something.

Hijikata scowled into the light, sheer stubbornness keeping him from closing his eyes again. When his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a somewhat drab and monochromatic hallway. Turning to the left, he say gray and blackness: the right, the same. Finally, he refocused his vision on what was directly in front of him, finding...more nothing.

Great. Not only had Hijikata blown his cash on this dump of a love hotel, but the love hotel had some kind of (hospital? corporate?) institutional theme. Really, what in hell was wrong with those "new wave" designers? Whatever happened to the beach themes, or the underwater castles, or the high-in-the-sky heaven designs with the busty angel girls in skimpy gowns and wing--

--not a productive line of thought. Still holding the door open, Hijikata started to walk a bit further from the doorway to see if he could glimpse the end of the hallway when he noticed a teenaged boy holding his nose right next to his door. Looking slowly from the boy to the door, Hijikata decided he had a pretty good guess as to what that thump earlier was.

"Oh, sorry," he said on autopilot, staring at the boy with the look of a man who had a hangover and painfully little sleep. Squinting a bit at the boy's face, Hijikata realized with some surprise (and no small amount of protest from his head) that the boy couldn't be more than seventeen or sixteen. Which meant...

"Hey," Hijikata said, a faint note of disbelief and exasperation in his voice. Kids these days. What were they thinking?

"How old are you?"

Oh, great. A new patient. Or, in the very least, a newer patient. One that Keman didn't recognize...and who seemed very eager go out at night. So much so that he went around swinging doors into the faces of unsuspecting dragons.

"I'm turning twenty-eight next fall," he replied dryly, still rubbing his bruised nose. He paused, figuring that the 'truth' would probably be taken as attitude, especially if this man was, in fact, a new patient. "I'm seventeen. Uh...may I ask why you want to know?" Usually the questions were something along the lines of 'who are you?' or 'where am I?' or 'why have you kidnapped me you fiend?!', not 'how old are you?'. It seemed rather random.

"Did you...just wake up?" He didn't look very well, in any case. He looked tired and rather ill. With all the naive innocence of someone who had never been hung over himself, the young dragon guided the little ball of magical light that floated over his shoulder closer, so he could get a better look at the man's face. "Are you all right?"

"Seventeen, huh?" So his first guess had been right. He felt no real triumph at having been proven correct; it was said that a society was worth only as much as the quality of its youth, after all, and even if Hijikata'd long known just what a breeding hole for corruption and general amoral shit Edo was, it was still annoying each time to have it rubbed in his face. This kid didn't even look the part. He even had a natural perm, and with the exception of that damn diabetic freelancer everyone knew there were no bad guys among those with natural perms.

The kid muttered something else before waving his hand a bit and calling over some kind of weird floating light, which shone far too directly into Hijikata's eyes for his comfort, causing him to growl a bit and step away, the expression on his face a lot more alert and much less relaxed than his look before.

"You'd better run along, kid--and don't come back before you're twenty."

It was way too early (or was it late?) for him to have to do this, Hijikata thought irritably as he felt for his pack of cigarettes and the lighter.

"Besides, the worthless kind of woman who'd ask a minor to a place like this isn't the kind of woman worth getting all hung up for. She'll probably just dump you when her husband makes it big in the stock market and beg him to take her back, so just get the hell out and save us all the trouble."

Edited 2009-01-26 17:50 (UTC)

...Huh?

Keman had met a few new patients on their first night, but this was the first time he'd ever been...accosted like this. And all for being 'seventeen,' too. What was it about his age that had the guy so annoyed? And why was twenty any different? Some sort of coming-of-age thing in the new patient's society, he supposed. But what was a 'minor'?

"A minor what?" he asked, curious. A minor infraction? A minor mistake? A minor incident? A minor problem?

Then everything slid into place and Keman started to make connections. He colored vividly. "Wait, you think I'm here to meet a concubine?! I'm not...I'm confused. I mean, I think you're a bit confused. I don't think you're where you think you are."

Wow. That was eloquent. He took a deep breath and combed his fingers through his ~~natural perm~~ hair, trying to regain a little of his composure.

"Let's start over. My name is Keman. What's yours?"

His cigarettes were nowhere to be found. He must have left them in his uniform when he changed into these pajamas. Hijikata shot a glare down at the smiley face on the shirt and wondered just how trashed he must have gotten to have voluntarily worn the thing.

Not trashed enough not to be almost completely sober now, apparently. "Minor what" indeed. Damn, he really needed a cigarette right now. Or at least something that'd get him either relaxed or high enough to deal with this.

Hijikata was just about to chew the smartass out when the boy turned what looked to be a genuine shade of scarlet, causing Hijikata to stop and take notice. Gaze sharpening in focus, Hijikata paid better attention to the boy as he continued speaking, eyes narrowed and wary when the boy finished.

........confused, huh? Damn straight, that kid was. Calling his lover a concubine...honestly. Just who do this brat think he was? The Shogun or something?

"Hijikata Toshirou," he said, voice level and professional. So much for the "get high again" strategy. Who knew that conversation had such a sobering effect?

"And just where do you think I think we are?"

"Nice to meet you, Hijikata," Keman replied automatically, somewhat distracted. He really ought to be getting on to see Valyn, but he couldn't just leave a brand-new patient to wander around like he'd had to do his first night here. What if Hijikata were to come across a creature with talons and pointy teeth (who didn't happen to be conveniently shapeshifted into the form of a teenager)?

He shrugged, still a bit pink. Was this really the appropriate place and time to be discussing such a thing? "I...don't know, really. Some sort of brothel? You mentioned a 'worthless kind of woman,' and I supposed that my mind went to that first. I apologize if I was mistaken, of course, but...I wouldn't--I mean, I can assure you, sir, that this isn't such a place," he finished hastily. "It's a bit more sinister than that, I'm afraid." That was an understatement, if Keman had ever heard one.

"A-anyway, I was just about to go find my friend. The halls aren't exactly safe at night, and I think he could probably explain things better than I can. I could...take you to him, if you'd like?"

The kid still seemed embarrassed, but kids nowadays could fake just about anything once they had their mind on it. He was seriously starting to reevaulate his reasons for getting out of bed in the first place, but it was too late for that kind of thinking; Hijikata really didn't have the time to go with some teenager to meet some yankee buddy of his, but something about the way the boy said "sinister" triggered alarm bells deep inside the part of his head labeled "DEMON VICE COMMANDER," and whatever Hijikata was, he was not the sort of man who betrayed his own instincts.

"...fine," Hijikata said, giving up on finding his cigarettes.

"But on one condition."

He turned a bit to the side, starting to walk in the direction the boy'd been traveling in, trusting Keman would follow. It was as much a test as a simple gesture; if the boy attacked Hijikata now, while the man had his back to him, then the "friend" they were going to meet probably wasn't worth seeing.

"A love hotel isn't a brothel, kid. And the women in brothels are far from cheap. The worthless kinds of people you find at love hotels are more like the middle-aged teacher that secretly brings the college student she's been admiring for months, or the married salaryman who goes to forget the demotion and that useless kid of his who just got a 17 out of 100 on his math test in the arms of a stranger. It's a place to go to shirk responsibilities and solitude for those who can barely pay child support, never mind the money needed for the 'professional help' you're thinking about."

He paused.

"You'll learn more about these things when you're older. In the meantime, forget it. Your friend, as well, if he's under twenty."

Edited 2009-01-28 02:55 (UTC)

That was easier than Keman had thought it would be. Good. At least he wouldn't have a new patient weighing on his conscience, especially since Hijikata still seemed to think that they were in some sort of "love hotel." Which, apparently, was not a brothel, though they sounded almost exactly the same to him.

But there was no sense arguing the point. Not unless he wanted another lecture on the merits of various houses of ill repute. "Oh," he said instead. "Sorry. My mistake." He hoped that Hijikata would let the subject fall with that. He seemed...oddly attached to the idea of this "love hotel" thing.

Maybe he ran one or something. Who knew?

"We ought to head out. Oh, and my friend's twenty-one, by the way."

[going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545951.html?thread=45281695#t45281695).]

In the end, Bruce hadn't been able to rest much before the nightshift began; in a way, he'd never expected to get any. Being able to fall asleep was a talent as worthy as any other of extensive study, but it was never a skill Bruce truly mastered. What he could be doing with those lost hours haunted him, and here at Landel's, where Bruce could never be sure how long he had left until the next item on the Doctor's schedule...

He was better prepared tonight than his first night, but Bruce couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness as he stepped out of his room and checked the hallway. It was generally empty--perhaps because the night had just begun. He heard a door slamming further down but couldn't seen who closed it.

Bruce shut his own door quietly, but otherwise kept his stance relaxed but not too confident; regardless of how unknown Bruce Wayne was here, it never hurt to take precautions. He wanted to get to M79 with as few people (and monsters) noticing as possible. There was no crowd to blend into but everywhere there was shadow.

For the Batman, that'd be enough.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545951.html?thread=44894623#t44894623).]

This was his last set of batteries. Clark frowned down at the flashlight. It might be good for a few more days but after that, he was on his own.

Clark pushed open the door, looking left and right. So far, he could hear the sounds of some people further down the hall. Deciding it was safe to travel, Clark set off. He didn't know how things would turn out with Brainy, but he did know he would get answers.

Getting all the metal to room M6 with his injuries was going to be quite the challenge, but Leon had absolutely no desire to reveal just how badly hurt he was by asking Clark to help. He'd just have to drag the stuff using his good arm, and try not to re-open the wounds on his back.

Once Clark left the room, Leon stripped the sheet off of his roomie's bed--it wasn't likely Clark would be back to use it tonight, and Leon might well be back to use his bed--and set it on the floor. He piled all the metal he'd collected onto the middle of the sheet, then tore some strips from one edge to use to tie the "bag" closed at the top.

Now for the difficult part.

[skipping two halls to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/544700.html?view=44942524#t44942524)]

[aaaand back from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/544700.html?thread=46018748#t46018748)]

It seemed that Leon's wound hadn't gotten any worse on the trip back, which was some small relief. Hopefully it would be nearly healed by tomorrow, since he'd done relatively little new damage tonight.

Leon tucked his sword into the closet, hiding it more carefully than he'd hidden anything else he'd scavenged in his nights here. This was precious, and worth every bit of caution Leon could manage.

That done, Leon went to his bed and lay down, more tired than he liked to admit. Sleep would do him good.

Leon poked a head out of his room to see if the hallway was safe before proceeding. He had his labcoat on, notebook and flashlight in the pockets, and a pillowcase tucked under one arm for whenever he located some metal. Now all he had to do was find some in a relatively close location. He wanted to avoid heading in the direction of the kitchen if at all possible.

Where did others get their metal from? He had nothing to free the pipes in the bathroom now that he was minus a tool kit. Nothing in the front rooms would likely be of use, and he'd rather not go outside.

The greenhouse, perhaps? That might be a start. If it looked too dangerous he could always clear out. The walls were glass, after all.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/546812.html?thread=44981244#t44981244)]

Once he reached his room again, the pillowcase full of supplies was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Leon fell onto the bed in a flop, burying his face in his pillow. He lay there for a while, catching his breath and letting some of the soreness ease out of his arms.

When he felt he'd rested enough, the young mage pulled his notebook from the pocket of his lab coat and sat with it and his flashlight for a while, just going over the notes he'd taken with Ed. This wasn't something that was going to happen on his first try. He already knew this. That was why he'd gone to get these supplies to begin with. Hopefully he'd figure things out before he didn't have anything left to work with.

There weren't many empty pages left in the back of his notebook. He'd have to rectify this as well. He tore out one, though, carefully drawing the diagram on page with a pen (taking up as much of the paper as possible). He'd be starting small - a dagger, maybe. He'd crafted weapons before, so he knew the general structure well enough. That wouldn't be the problem.

Opening the pillowcase, he picked out a single trowel. It didn't take too much effort to get the metal loose from the handle, and he set the shovel part down in the center of the paper. Yeah, he was definitely going small for starters - smaller than might even be useful, even, aside from a sort of throwing weapon.

Now how had Ed gone through the motions?

The young mage sat back a bit and held both arms out in front of him, one partially over the other. Get the image in his mind, he'd said. Simple enough...

The released energy was brighter than expected, and Leon had to squint as he struggled to remain focused. He couldn't see the item forming, but he had to shove such worries to the back of his mind or they'd interfere with the task at hand. Adjustments would be made as needed.

When he pulled back, panting and exhausted, a small throwing dagger sat in the middle of the design. At least... it looked like a small throwing dagger. Something felt off about it, however, and the boy leaned forward to touch it with a shaking hand. As his finger came in contact with it, the object crumbled into a pile of dust.

Well, he should have expected as much.

He laid back against the side of the bed, panting, too utterly drained to even attempt getting to his feet so he could rest on top of it. His roommate would be nice enough not to mess with the rest of his supplies, right? They'd likely be moved in the morning...

Too tired to worry, the boy passed out where he sat.

He knew he was headed for Luffy's room, but without Archer there to direct him, Brook had to think for himself on just how he was supposed to get there again. There had been a few hallways to traverse, and he'd gone outside too - that was a way he knew well - so he didn't think very much when it came to heading for the outside shed. Once he got there, getting to Luffy's room wouldn't be too terribly hard, would it?

No, of course not! He had to keep his hopes up if he was to get anywhere! But that didn't mean he didn't begin humming a tune the moment he left the room. No matter how high one's spirits, this place was still scary!

Wonka looked up from his notes as the Head Doctor began his nightly address, curious as to what the man might say, but ended up listening only a few seconds before tuning him out again. It was just like all the others - the self-righteous tone of voice, the sentiments of the universe owing him something - that same power-drunk mess of complexes that Wonka had seen ten years ago, and had kept seeing ever since. He gave a sigh, and tried as hard as he could to imagine the Chocolate Room, to picture the colors of the foliage and the trickle of the river, to escape having to listen to another spoiled adult take out his anger on others.

Thankfully, Landel finished his rant in what might have been record time; it was only a few moments more before the static drowned out his voice and the doors unlocked. Free of the man's monologuing, Wonka leapt to his feet, grabbed his notebook and flashlight, and followed Brook out the door and down the hallway, towards (he hoped) more pleasant and rewarding things in the outside darkness.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545951.html?thread=45144479#t45144479)]

Logan awoke to find himself hanging half-out of his bed. Before he could get his bearings, his initial surprise caused him to lose his balance and fall, painfully, onto the floor. Cursing, he slowly rose to his knees, one hand instinctively massaging the bandages around his midriff. Dammit, he cursed again. Another day los'. Why does this keep happenin'?!? If he had but one solid theory to work on, such as keeping the more 'violent' patients subdued for parts of the day, he might feel less confused about it. But as far as he could tell, the occurence was completely random, and affected a wide variety of patients.

Slowly getting to his feet, the mutant stretched a little, careful not to overdo it. It seemed his abdomen was in far better condition than it had been, could feel the scar tissue beginning to form across the vicious wound Venom had dealt him. But he still wasn't inclined to push himself too far. Likewise, he decided that the eye bandage should remain in place for now, not least of all for the fact that the wound probably looked pretty gruesome right about now.

His roommate had already left; maybe he had tried to wake Logan and failed, or maybe Logan had been dumped in the room after he'd left. The latter seemed unlikely. Perhaps then 'Bruce' just had other plans. Fair enough. There was no point hanging around here himself, even if the rest would do him good. He had to get out there; the beast wouldn't have it any other way.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545951.html)]

By the time Ken Amada awoke, the room was dark, noise practically nonexistent. He felt groggy, his head wavering between hazy and outright disoriented. As the boy slowly rose out of bed and began the motions of getting prepared, the realization finally dawned.

Ken had fallen asleep.

The fact came with relief. He could not remember the last time he had successfully rested in this place; even a second's worth meant he was feeling better. About what, he couldn't be certain, but the child figured any improvement was better than none.

Now, however, was not the time to dwell on that, not with work still awaiting completion. He quickly pulled on the gray overcoat, a task he carried out halfway down the hallway. A pillowcase hung awkwardly out of a coat pocket while the boy's flashlight and spear juggled between his two hands. It was a wonder how he managed without dropping anything.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/546812.html?thread=45286652#t45286652).]

Edited 2009-01-28 22:19 (UTC)

No orders from clubs and no plans for the evening. No Lord Hellmaster to take orders from, either; he was certain of it now, after yet another night of patiently waiting. Beyond certain, but it really was best to be absolutely sure in a case like this.

It didn't exactly make him happy to be left entirely to his own devices for the evening. Xelloss could enjoy the misery of others fairly well while fighting alongside them, and exercising a more obvious sadistic bent would just cause others to start targeting him instead of trusting him. Someone was either very silly or very hungry, going around biting women in the middle of the night. It would have to eventually meet a sorry end, but in the meantime, the idea itself was funny enough, both for the victim and the eventual fate of the vampire. Even though he'd enjoyed another set of human meals today, that was different, associated with this fake body. Truly relying on human liquids to survive would be very... tacky?

Without either that sort of drive to create trouble for someone or the convenient orders and structure offered by the clubs, he was a bit lost for the evening. The last time he'd found himself entirely without direction, he'd wandered outside, and found some interesting sights but nothing useful. Maybe tonight would be better to stay indoors... he didn't want to bother with his coat and the weather was hard on his feet anyway.

So, taking up one of his shovels and his flashlight, he headed out to see what the night had to offer.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545951.html?thread=45463199#t45463967)]

Ryuk looked at his radio when it sounded. He'd already tried changing the station, but it didn't work, so he decided he'd probably leave it here.

Looking to his roommate, he smiled. "Hey. What are you doing now? Let's do something."

"Doing? Me?" Fwiffo asked with a small start. "Well, nothing really..."

Which was true, from a rather literal standpoint. He was only sitting on his bed, back against the wall, staring at Ryuk like the death god was going to eat him at any moment.

First a horrid cannibal, now a death god...Somebody around here must really hate him.

Ryuk nodded and looked around. "I've already gone through the room," he said. And he meant the whole room, privacy be damned. "Nothing here. Let's go, Fwiffo. We should go upstairs." He sure as hell wasn't going alone. He needed a meat shield like last night. Although Mikami had been too slow.

Ryuk stood and walked to the door, turning back and waiting for his roommate.

"What, go?" Fwiffo stared at the death god in complete consternation, frozen in place on the bed. "But, but I..."

But he was supposed to be meeting with the Captain...!

Ryuk stopped and looked at Fwiffo.

"You got something better we can do here?" he asked. He was up for anything, really.

"Something better..."

Something like eating him?

"No, not at all!" Fwiffo said quickly, scurrying off the bed and rushing over to Ryuk's side. He cringed a little as he looked up at the much taller death god. "I-I'm ready to go whenever you are!"

And he'd just have to hope nothing horrible would happen to him, so he could properly warn the Captain tomorrow--!

[Going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/546812.html?thread=45740540#t45740540)]

Having fallen asleep, Marcus didn't linger in his hallway to see if Wolverine was still there. The man could take care of himself, and didn't need to have anyone hovering over him.

Marcus made his way down the hall, adjusting his cape one last time as he set out.

[Going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/545160.html?thread=45790856#t45790856)]

Nightshift 38: M81-90 Hallway

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M84, then out.

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[From M86]

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M88

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[From M84, after Bats has left]

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M81

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