damned_institute | Nightshift 39: Kitchen

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=48201603#t48201603)]

Kagura grabbed her side. Now that she had time to rest she realized that her wound didn't just hurt. It really really really hurt. She looked at her hand and saw blood, smelled blood and tasted blood. She got her flashlight from where she hid it (in her pants), pulled up her shirt and checked. The wound was shallow, which probably explains all the blood. She reached for a towel to mop it up and tied them together to from a makeshift bandage. That should help a bit.

There was hardly any food in the kitchen, just a lot of stoves and cooking utensils. She guessed they were all in another room. The evil lunch lady didn't chase her into the room. Now was her chance to grab some food, eat, and run back out.

She could still hear her and the man in the other room though. The woman was pretty strong. And she'd never seen the man fight. He didn't seem that strong, just really creepy. Kagura shook her head. No, she shouldn't worry about him. He was the enemy! He tried to kill Zura!

It was when she managed to spot some knives when she realized that he was out there without a weapon.

A really flamboyant man passed by after taking a glance of her. Kagura didn’t know why, maybe it was the pain, but she felt very lucky that he left her just that. He didn’t even bother to help her.

And if he didn’t help her then why should she help the man she left outside? If anyone asked, she planned to pin this all on having stupid adult role models and how she was merely following their example.

Once the smell of blood had subsided a bit, Kagura smelled food from the nearby doors and made for the leftmost one.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585838.html)]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/580806.html?thread=48243910#t48243910)]

Oh, now that was a nice smell. Grell came into the kitchen in time to catch a whiff of blood in the air. And a pretty little girl to go with it. Such a shame that he had to keep moving or he would have helped her. Inasmuch as a death god helped anyone who was bleeding - which probably meant Kagura was lucky Grell had other things on his mind.

Giving the unknown girl a look, Grell sauntered on out toward the cafeteria (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=48244611#t48244611).

Edited 2009-03-09 01:18 (UTC)

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585838.html)]

Kagura quickly ran back into the kitchen, dumping all her food on a large bowl she found nearby. She took some knives, not for herself but for that man. She didn't want him to die, but she didn't want to save him either. She opened one of the packs of jerky and popped one inside her mouth, running out of the room and into the cafeteria with her knives and her food.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=48284291#t48284291)]

Qui-Gon blinked...and suddenly found himself lying on the floor, with no memory of falling down.

The Jedi Master pushed himself up, frowning, and assessed himself. Other than being unable to account for one minute being with Obi-Wan, the other on the floor, he felt fine. It was just like last night, when he had over a day he couldn't account for. Looking around, the Earthian glowrod's beam flickering, he spotted Obi-Wan, still unconscious and not lying too far away. Kneeling by his friend's side, he laid a hand on his shoulder and gently, but urgently shook it.

"Obi-Wan," he said, voice calm. Inwardly he wondered if there had been another gap in time, what this could possibly mean. To Qui-Gon, it was like there had been no change in time, however - he still wore the same robes and boots he'd traveled this way in, the knife and the rest of his scrounged up supplies still on him.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=48918659#t48918659)]

The door ahead of them was already open, luckily, and as the four moved through it, Shikamaru pulled it shut behind them. It didn't lock, but it would hopefully stop those in the cafeteria from using any magic or weapon that required a line of sight.

The room smelled like blood: bad sign. Given the silence and stillness, though, it was most likely that someone had escaped through here after being attacked by the person or people in the cafeteria. Just in case, he cast the beam of his flashlight over the surroundings.

Aside from the spilled blood, the kitchen was even cleaner than the one at his house--a feat, considering how often his mother made him clean the damn thing. There were no visible monsters or people ready to attack, so he stepped aside to a drawer and quickly slid his fingers around the edges then pulled it out a quarter inch, listening for giant roaches or ants or sentient silverware or whatever the hell haunted the kitchen. Satisfied that it wasn't rigged or a habitat for man-eating washcloths, he balanced the flashlight between his chin and shoulder and yanked the drawer fully open.

Judging from the disorder, it seemed someone else had been here first, but after pushing around the spoons, he did find a few very dull knives. Shikamaru moved quickly, not wanting to hold up the group but working as quietly as possible within those constraints. "We can sharpen this stuff later," he said, picking up a couple triangle-shaped things with wooden handles. What the hell? For cake? Nothing he found was especially sturdy, but they'd run out of scalpels eventually and those blades were thin to begin with, requiring a precision that was difficult in the dark and possibly bending or breaking when used against anything with armor or a protective shell.

The instruments were useless now, so he didn't bother offering them to the others. After a few seconds of trying to fit more than a couple knives in his pockets, he gave up and glanced across the others. Somehow, Kakashi had managed to keep his usual clothing, and the assortment of pockets there should be enough. "Can you hang onto these?" he asked, holding out the findings. "We'll just get rid of them if we find something more important."

Edited 2009-03-20 08:24 (UTC)

The scent of blood in the air wasn't to be ignored, but Kakashi also knew that he couldn't strictly focus on it as they made their way across the kitchen. He wanted to pause long enough to give Dias's group a chance to catch up, just in case they were needed. After all, it'd be rather poor to offer help and then just abandon them. And besides, Shikamaru had already taken it upon himself to begin searching the area. The action would buy them a few minutes, which would hopefully be enough time for the other group to catch up.

Otherwise, Kakashi would have to consider ordering them back into the previous room. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to do, since their goal was the basement. However, he refused to simply leave behind someone he considered an ally. Those who worked with him knew this fairly well, particularly Naruto and Sakura. It'd been the first lesson he'd ever taught them as ninja, after all.

When Shikamaru approached him, the man glanced over the items, then nodded as he took them. "Sure." Nothing more than harmless butter knives and cake cutters, at least in appearance. But if they found some way to sharpen them, they could be turned into something not unlike kunai in shape, if not nearly as durable. Besides, without the typical assortment of ninja tools, Kakashi's outfit was rather roomy in terms of pocket space. There wasn't any harm in playing the pack mule.

At least, not so long as he didn't think of it that way.

Naruto couldn't help crinkling his nose and bringing a hand to it at the smell of the blood. It was a familiar smell but it had never been an incredibly pleasant one, and in this situation he didn't want to imagine where it come from or how so much had been spilt.

His eyes fell on the sink he'd wet their shirts in the last time he'd been there, which lead to him thinking of what he'd seen when he'd turned around. He felt a pang of anger, clenching and unclenching his fist, storing the emotion aside for when he'd need to fight.

Sakura stayed near the door when they entered, just to see if Kakashi's allies would take them up on the offer. There was already a really tall guy there who seemed to be either watching the fight or waiting on others, but she tried to stay out of his way. The others were gathering blunt tools which she supposed might be helpful. She knew she'd seen notes on the bulletin that spoke of weaponsmiths, but she'd yet to meet one in person.

She said nothing, but wondered how long Kakashi would have them wait on these others. Sakura didn't mind healing them, though it would probably deplete her chakra, but if they didn't get moving, they might not make their own destination.

After passing the pieces of silverware to Kakashi, Shikamaru leaned against the counter, arms folded, wearing an expression that most would consider disinterested or aloof. In actuality, his attention was fixed on his three teammates, and as he waited for Kakashi's okay to move on, he carefully noted their expressions and shifts in posture. Sakura had said they'd all come from different points in time, and although he was determined to learn as little as possible about the future, he knew the difference that a matter of months or even weeks could make in a person's perception of themselves and the world. If Naruto was from an earlier time, Shikamaru would have to take that into account when predicting his actions and gauging his priorities, especially knowing what he'd just learned at breakfast. Sakura and Kakashi would be even harder, since he'd have to make predictions based solely on what he saw here. Still, at least for the time being, nothing would change his resolution to keep his own future where it belonged: in a very separate place from the present.

From what he'd seen, Kakashi hadn't changed much from the man Shikamaru last knew, as evidenced by the fact that they were stuck waiting around for some guy that they had no official responsibility for. This part of the jounin's personality could be a hassle, especially in a situation like this, but in line with past experiences, Shikamaru's appreciation for the trait far outweighed any frustration. Sakura seemed her usual bothersome self, though he was far less grateful for that. Naruto seemed slightly unsettled, but that might be due to the kitchen itself...he'd seemed more comfortable in the hall.

A hell of a lot of concentration to lead to no conclusion. This was becoming a pattern. Shikamaru unfolded his arms to drag one hand down his face, then let out a quiet sigh that was closer to tired frustration than impatience. The sooner they moved on, the sooner he could think productively, and the sooner he could think productively, the sooner he wouldn't have to think at all.

Naruto, in a situation like this, didn't really like waiting around. They had a place to go, and he didn't like the kitchen (not just for what he'd been thinking about before but because of the smell, amongst other things). He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, wondering if anyone would actually come here or if they'd be waiting for no reason.

"Is anyone coming?" He asked.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=48989059#t48989059)]

As soon as Mori was in the kitchen, he turned to watch the door. Hikaru, Kaoru and Wolfram were going to need to come through the cafeteria and if they ran into problems, Mori wanted to be able to be the first person at their side. The fight looked nasty and he was thankful that none of them had gotten caught up in it so far, but how long that luck held out was another thing.

At least they'd reached the kitchen this time. Now Mitsukuni could make his cake and hopefully Wonka would feel more at home.

Honey tagged along behind, making sure Wonka kept up with them and hopefully they'd shown the twins, Anise, and Wolfram how to get through okay. As long as they didn't get mixed up in that dangerous fight, they should be able to make it through.

It looked like there were a few other people in the kitchen, but it wasn't too crowded and he bet that most of them were just passing through anyway. Takashi was focused on watching the door and he didn't want to worry anyone, so it was probably best to just get going on their project.

"Are you ready to get started Wonka-sama?" he asked, more than willing to help out.

Wonka's perpetual smile had faded a bit when they were passing the fight in the other room, but his glee once they had gotten past that spot of ugliness made up for lost time.

"Absolutely, my boy!" Wonka answered, already pulling random cooking supplies out of the cabinets. "Now, let's see... you wanted to make a cake, yes? Well, it just so happens that I have a delightful recipe for strawberry angel-food cake that I've been meaning to try out for a while now.

"But we'll have to get our ingredients together before we begin! Let's see... I think we'll need eggs and cream from the refrigerator, plus flour, sugar, and cream of tartar from the pantry. If you could get the eggs and cream, and strawberries if you can find them, I'll handle the pantry items. Sound good?" He would normally have taken the walk-in refrigerator himself, but with the possibility of giant roaches in the pantrys he didn't want to risk sending Honey that way. Besides, he did still need to pick up some things for his other projects tonight.

[Skipping with permission]

"Yes sir!" Honey snapped to mock salute. Takashi was watching the door, so he'd help Wonka as much as he could. He took Usa-chan in one arm and the flashlight in the other, though he wasn't too sure how he'd carry everything, he'd do his best.

[[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/580806.html?thread=49084358#t49084358)]]

Wonka watched Honey run off to the pantry, his smile taking on a less manic, more sentimental tone. Such a nice boy! Honest, happy, in-the-moment... it reminded him of himself, when he was younger. His mind suddenly heavy with thoughts, he hurried off to the pantry to get his share of the ingredients for the night.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585838.html?thread=49087342#t49087342)]

[[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/580806.html?thread=49084358#t49084358)]]

Honey carried the supplies back and set them on the counter as soon as he could. He didn't trust himself to do much else without dropping something or breaking the eggs. Wonka wasn't back yet, but it shouldn't be a long trip. The pantry was right over there and he'd definitely hear it if something weird happened.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585838.html?thread=49098606#t49098606)]

Wonka soon followed, setting his heap of ingredients down on the countertop and erupting into a beaming smile when he realized Honey had beaten him back to the kitchen. "Excellent work, Honey!" he cried, and then added in a lower voice, "I hope the walk-in refrigerator wasn't too cold for you... I'd hate for you to catch a cold on my account!" This said, he set to work, opening the bags of flour and sugar, pouring them into a waiting sieve and the food processor respectively, and beginning an explanation of the Art of Cake.

"Now, any cake recipe you could name follows the same basic idea. You have a batter, of eggs, flour and sugar, which is flavored to your liking and mixed with a chemical to make it light and fluffy in the heat of the oven. But exactly how that batter is flavored and fluffed is what makes each cake unique." He pressed the "on" button of the food processor. "Angel food cake is the lightest and fluffiest cake around, and you can tell it by the ingredients it uses. For instance, we don't just use regular sugar. We use 'castor sugar', which is cut up into even smaller grains so that it dissolves quickly and easily in the batter. The same is true for the flour," which he began to shake through the sieve into the bowl when he mentioned it. "We use only cake flour - milled more finely than wheat or all-purpose flour - and even then, we sift it to remove any clumps.

"Now, here's a puzzle for you. We've already done extra steps to make the flour and the sugar are as light and fluffy as they can be. What do you suppose we do to the eggs?"

It was kind of worrying that the other group hadn't stormed in yet, but Takashi was watching the door and if anything dangerous happened, he'd be sure to let them know; Honey trusted him more than anyone else.

He was glad for the distraction Willy Wonka gave him though, and even though Haruhi had explained some of this to him before, he tried his best to pay attention. It wasn't hard, given how just the thought of cake was enough to make his mouth water. "Hnnn," he puzzled for a second, "Haru-chan always uses a wire spoon thing and whips them up when she makes the omelettes. They're really fluffy, so... so we use one of those tools, right?"

"Exactly right!" Wonka cried. "But we don't stop there, my boy! We don't stop there! In fact, we only whisk part of the egg - the egg white, the lightest part. Ah, I think the sugar's done now." He turned off the food processor, and took one of the eggs from the carton, cracking it open on the side of a small bowl. "There are a few ways to separate the white and the yolk, but I find the easiest one to be the pouring method. Once you have your egg cracked down the middle, like this, you pull it apart into two halves, over the bowl. Then, you carefully pour the yolk back and forth between the halves, letting the white that comes with it run over the side of the egg and into the bowl beneath." After about five or six passes back and forth, he set the egg down and poured the small bowl into a larger one. "Of course, it's always possible to accidentally break the yolk, so it's important to pour off the egg white as soon as you've gotten it!"

Pushing the bowl over to where Honey was, he offered him an egg, and asked, "Would you like to try it?"

Honey clapped when he got the answer right and smiled brightly up at his teacher. Willy Wonka had always seemed a lot stranger in the movies, but he was actually really nice! It was probably one of those things where they just got altered a lot by Hollywood. He was glad the man was so friendly either way.

He watched the demonstration Wonka gave on the eggs, but was somewhat hesitant to try it himself. It was kind of strange that they weren't going to use the bright yellow part of the egg too! It was the best color and the white part, he thought, always looked kind of boring in comparison. But if it would make a good cake, he'd be glad to follow the rules.

Honey set Usa-chan at his feet and reached up for one of the eggs. At his diminutive height it was hard to reach over the counter to the bowl, but he could just barely do it if he stood on tiptoe. Small fingers fumbled with the task, but despite his looks, he was fairly dexterous. The egg cracked a little too far on the first tap though and was already oozing out clearish goo when he held it over the bowl and tried to pull it apart. Instead of two neat pieces, however, it was a struggle just to keep one of the half from falling apart. Honey ended up with probably more egg white on his hands than in the bowl, but he was devout in his efforts to keep the little round yolk from falling in.

Wonka gave an embarassed giggle when he realized his mistake. It seemed so obvious in retrospect... it was a miracle that Honey could even reach the bowl given the height of the counter. "Er, let me see if there's a chair or stool or something around here." A quick check of the room revealed nothing, however - most industrial kitchens weren't really designed with children or Oompa-Loompas in mind, he guessed - so he just watched Honey's efforts carefully, ready to move in if something slipped.

Nothing did. He had gotten his hands a bit messy, but that was a given if you stayed in the kitchen long enough. He quickly switched the bowl with the whites in it for the one in which he'd dumped the first yolk, and said, "Well done! It can get a bit messy, but you didn't break the yolk, and that's the important part." Wetting a washcloth and handed it to Honey, he added, "You should probably wash up, though." With that, he began to separate the other eggs, one by one, until a dozen had gone into the large bowl. "Now, since it was your idea to whisk the eggs up, would you mind doing the honors? Actually, wait a tic." And, with nothing more than a nod to Mori as he passed, he dashed out the door to the cafeteria.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=49115267#t49115267)]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html?thread=49115267#t49115267)]

Wonka re-entered the room, giving another nod to Mori and carrying a chair from the cafeteria. He set it down next to Honey and the bowl of eggs, and said, "There, that should make things a little easier."

Honey wiped the goo from his hands, glad he'd managed to get at least some of the egg into the bowl without making a huge mess. Wonka then asked him to whisk the eggs, but he wasn't really sure what all that meant and before he could ask, the man ran off to the other room!

"Ah-" Honey started, but he was already gone, leaving Honey to try to remember which tool was the whisk. That much he could recognize without much trouble and he picked it up and placed it in the bowl. Luckily, before he could do any damage, Wonka returned with a chair for him to stand on. He jumped up, though it was kind of weird to be at an almost average height now, it did make it easier to reach the things on the counter.

"So..." Honey picked up the bowl and whisk and looked somewhat intimidated. "I just stir it? Or um... is there a trick to it?"

"That's all!" Wonka said. "You just stir as fast as you can with the whisk, and in a couple minutes the egg whites will be all frothy and bubbly. We'll be adding some cream of tartar then, to make sure the bubbles don't pop." He took out a pan and began filling it with water as he talked. "By the way, the egg whites, tartar and a bit of sugar are all you need to make meringues, which are delightful treat all their own. But they're also an important ingredient in other desserts - including this one."

The saucepan came out of the sink and onto a waiting burner, and Wonka looked back at Honey, smiling happily. It was so nice to have someone to help out like this, someone he could teach about the ins and outs of cooking. It made him wonder where Charlie was right now, until he remembered that "right now" didn't mean much when one was from thirty years ago in another world. In any case, it was probably best that the boy hadn't been caught by Landel's net... and a shame that Honey had been, even if it was giving them a good time for the moment.

Honey took mental notes on how to bake the cake, but telling Honey to stir as fast as he could probably wasn't the best idea. He took to the task with great energy, sending splashes of egg white over a good portion of his shirt and parts of the floor. It probably wasn't supposed to do that...

"Oops," he said, making a worried expression. "I think I did it too fast."

"Oh dear," Wonka said. "You really put your heart into this, don't you?" He let himself giggle a bit, but was already reaching for a washcloth to clean up the spill. "Don't worry, I've made the same mistake myself before." And he had the marks to prove it, although he didn't regret it one bit; that was the risk you took when you whipped cream the proper way, after all.

And so it continued. Wonka would do the harder things on the side, explaning as he went, and giving Honey a chance to try the simple and fun parts after demonstrating. While the cake was baking, they switched to the syrup that would serve as its filling and topping, and while that was bubbling away Wonka was darting between pots, watching his other projects - mostly hard candy for the mysterious sweet tooth on the bulletin board, plus one or two items for the apple afficionado. And in what seemed like no time at all (and after more than one little accident) the cake was ready: light, fluffy, and accented with sweet, sticky strawberry. Wonka cut the cake in thirds - one for himself, one for Honey, and one for their silent guard - and took a bite of his own piece with a waiting fork, with a glowing smile that, had it been any wider, would have gone off the sides of his face. Another triumph.

Wonka was a really nice teacher, Honey decided, though he still cast worried glances over to the entrance, hoping he'd see the others come through. It shouldn't be taking them this long, but then Anise said she was strong, and Wolfram too. Maybe they just got distracted, or maybe the fight in the cafeteria was too dangerous so they were staying back? That one made the most sense.

But when he could smell the cake baking, it was easier to forget his troubles, and when Wonka presented him with a big piece of cake, it was really hard to think of anything else. He took one bite and gave a sigh of contentment. He hadn't had real cake in days! It was like heaven! Wonka really was magic when it came to making sweets.

[[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/585347.html)]]

Kagura breathed a sigh of relief when the kitchen appeared fairly empty, save for a few patients here and there. She tried to keep out of their way and waited for Bridget to show her the next step. She'd never been to the basement, only heard about a secret way there. Actually going though, she'd never made it that far.

Finally! They had finally reached the kitchen! All that was left to do was grab a whole bunch of knives and wait for Landel to magic Porky away to the safety that was daytime!

Still panting heavily from his fight with the ghost, Porky began rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen, hoping to find a few sharp knives.

...

"Why aren't there any knives here?!" Porky shouted, "I go through hell and back and get humiliated by a ghost just so I can not get any knives?!"

Well, shit. That meant that the night had been officially wasted. The whole point was to find stronger weapons, but if the kitchen didn't even have anything useful in it, then Porky might as well have nearly died for nothing! No point in letting all of his effort go to waste, though. Porky looked through the drawers one last time to see if there was anything he could use to fight something. Nothing really stood out, except for one thing: a drawer full of frying pans. Porky shuddered.

...No. Porky couldn't use those...things. Not after he had been attacked with them so brutally...but they were the only things there that could be used to fight with! Porky didn't want the night to be a waste...

"Alright, Commander," Porky sighed, "Let's get all of these pans into the pillow case. No sense in letting the night go to waste...even if it does mean taking...frying pans. Tomorrow night I suppose I might as well stock up on baseball bats..."

Okay, that was scary. Not the giggling girl or the fight they shot past to get here, but the running. Diego would have fallen over half a dozen strides ago if it weren't for the Commander's steadying hand on his arm. And even then... getting through the door at the other end was supposed to be when they stopped. Or at least, that's what Diego had been expecting. But then Porky had shot ahead to another door behind a long, flat, tall surface, and Diego was forced to follow, half-running, half-crawling and tripping, and half-dragged.

How did humans run at all? Where did they get the balance from with nothing but two long spindly sticks?

The relative quiet of the space beyond finally allowed him to stop and collapse on the hard ground, amazed that he had managed to make it at all. After a few minutes of rest, Diego struggled back up on weak, shaking legs, leaning heavily on one of the walls.

How many doors were there in this place? How many spaces did they connect? How far did they still have left to go?

Not that far at all, apparently. Porky was busy searching for 'knives,' and getting frustrated at not finding any. Diego glanced back to the door they came through. The other fight still rang loud and clear in his ears.

"What is this place?" he finally asked, exhaustion still evident in his tone. Nothing Porky had described back where he woke up matched any of this.

"This is a kitchen. Our food is prepared here." Practically dragging Diego across two rooms had also taken a toll on the Commander, especially since he'd started on little breath, but Porky's own pace had been astonishing. This place had definitely changed him, or else the King's bedrest had been out of laziness rather than a real need to conserve energy. He was the King, after all, he didn't have to run or walk in his own domain if he didn't want to.

"Or it should be where food is prepared. But that would require knives, and there aren't any here." The Commander had joined the search after letting Diego go, looking in drawers and under cabinets just in case. "They may take the knives away at night." Instead, it was frying pans, piled up. He added helpfully to his King, "On my second night, I agreed to work with the History Club, and it was suggested that I would obtain a weapon such as a bat in return, but it didn't happen."

A frying pan was still an improvement for attack or defense... unless the enemy was something like that ghost. Was there anything here that would damage that sort of creature? They had been able to run past it--perhaps ignoring it was the only option? The Commander looked around anyway at the kitchen one last time, trying to think of what might be effective other than fire.

So Porky was honestly considering using a frying pan to fight...back at the Nowhere Islands, Porky would have laughed if someone had told him that he would even think of using such a vile object to defend himself. Out of all the things that he had been put through so far, this was the worst. With a sigh, Porky began to move the pans from the drawer to the pillow case. He had to move quickly. It was almost dawn, after all.

"So, Commander," Porky said dully, "Where would those baseball bats be? I suppose we'll be gathering up those tomorrow night. they'd be great if you want to really hurt someone...I would know."

Porky shuddered. He had never been fond of baseball as a child, but after being on the business end of a metal baseball bat courtesy of Ness...

Nightshift 39: Kitchen

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