Nightshift 39: Kitchen

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

[With mod permission]

Sanzo jerked awake, cheek pressed against the floor. The monk immediately went for the gun. He hadn't gone to sleep that last shift, not while he hadn't made a decision about Takasugi. What the fuck? Had they drugged the food? He was curled on the floor - and he definitely wasn't in that cell any longer - his fingers around the Smith & Wesson. Sanzo pushed himself up.

He flicked the flashlight on, and looked around. An island in the middle, pots and pans above, a familiar metal door. What the hell was he doing in the kitchen?

Sanzo rose, the gun scraping against the floor with the movement. Something was going on here. He'd only woken up like this once, and that'd been that time in the morgue.

What was going on here?



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[piggy-king.livejournal.com]

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..."

[oober-tracker.livejournal.com]

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.

[maskedsunflower.livejournal.com]

"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.

[piggy-king.livejournal.com]

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...