damned_institute | Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

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Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

[M12]

There was this 'Avatar' again, the thing that supposedly linked one's consciousness within this video game. Klavier couldn't quite understand how such a thing could help anyone fight, but he was certain that this connection had something to do with how and why Endrance was taken. If this really wasn't something every player experienced, then there was little doubt others might find such a thing interesting, yes? He still wasn't sure how this all worked, but preserving this connection had to be the point of it all. At least in this particular case.

Any further discussion on this or the strange 'Kira' murders was cut short with the intercom announcement. If one could call it that. Herr Doktor's voice and demeanor changed come nightfall, true, but this was stranger than usual. In fact, he couldn't even be sure if it was the doctor. It was far too raspy to identify either way.

This was getting more bizarre with every evening. First taunting then what may or may not have been snoring... and now this strange dilapidated voice?

"Open the box?" he repeated. What could he possibly mean by that? ...Wait. Was this voice even addressing the patient population? It seemed too specific a thing to say to everyone. Could this be a message for Herr Doktor? Or was this a message for a specific party? Maybe someone had managed to do something recently...

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The message that opened the night was cryptic, but that wasn't an unusual occurrence in this place. Homura gave it little thought as he began his nightly routine; perhaps they were fools, but fighting for their own goals and opening what boxes they might come across was a better fate than staying as they were. A mysterious voice making proclamations as a god would had little chance of shaking Homura's resolve when it came to that.

It only took a few moments for the demi-god to change, and to pull out his sword and flashlight. With any luck, they'd be able to find the door that Kenren's key opened this night. More importantly, the injuries the group had sustained during their trip upstairs would be nearly healed by this point, meaning another venture could be made. The need for weapons was ever pressing, and the demi-god hadn't missed the growing interest in that particular door. Something would have to be done about it.

While he waited on Robin, Homura decided to make some notes for himself. When he opened the drawer to get a pen, however, he took note of a vial of black fluid. The container had been there since he "awoke" after his experimentation night, and Homura vaguely remembered an intention to use it. There was no way to tell what effects it would have, of course, which was likely why Homura had written out the instructions to Kenren and Hijikata in the first place. Looking at the container now, it was tempting to put it back in the drawer, and to forget about it again. The nights were too short as it stood.

Yet as the thought crossed his mind, Homura also remembered just how this vial had come into his possession. Hijikata and MOMO had been with him that night, though both had vanished in the time since. The battle had been a difficult one, earning them keys and this as their prize. There had been great benefit with the items so far, and it was hard to simply pass up the opportunity. Homura eyed the vial, considering what he wished to do this night shift, and what the risks were should the container have adverse reactions.

But there would be nothing gained by hesitating, would there?

Grinning to himself, Homura pocketed the vial. After his meeting with Robin, perhaps. He had the necessary syringe, thanks to the efforts of those who worked under him. There was little good in continuing to let the item go to waste.

Pausing outside the room, Matt double-checked the number on the door. This should be the right one. He didn't know what he'd expected - a bunch of others waiting outside, perhaps. Homura seemed to be a popular man.

He knocked carefully, and after a moment cleared his throat and followed with "It's Robin."

This whole meeting was a bit ominous, and Matt didn't like not knowing why he'd been called for something. He could almost compare it to getting called to Roger's office without knowing what he'd done wrong, but somehow comparing Homura to the old man that ran Wammy's just didn't seem right. It was probably just for an assignment, anyway, and there was no reason to let on that he suspected he was in trouble.

It wasn't as if he'd even done much, anyway.

At some point during the wait, Homura had begun gathering a pile of scrap metal for Adelheid's use later. Leaving it near his desk when the knock came, Homura moved to the door, opening it so Robin could come in. "Of course. Thank you for being so prompt."

How much had he been able to figure out? Of course, there was no way for Homura to know without actually asking, but the confrontation earlier that day left doubt as to the continued usefulness of Ayumu's cover. Still, whether or not she had been exposed was something Ayumu would have to take care of herself. For now, Homura had to convince the bird to sing a new song for a new master.

"You must be curious as to why I wanted a private meeting with you." The demi-god moved back to his bed with a smooth stride, but didn't sit on it yet. "It isn't unusual for patients to have any number of questions here. In your case, I'd think that the most pressing would be deciding what to do now that the one directing your movements--Mello--is no longer here."

Fuck.

Matt hadn't even gotten to sit down yet before Homura's announcement. He did so after it, though, landing a bit harder than he'd meant to on the bed opposite. Someone had been watching him? Sen was the most likely answer, but it was also possible that it had simply been that obvious. It was harder to hide matters like that in a place like this.

He could do the usual scripted response you saw in every movie ever created when someone was caught red-handed, the usual I have no idea what you're talking about response. He didn't like playing dumb, however, and doing so would be an insult to Homura, who was obviously too clever for that. (Most people were, even in the movies.)

As for how little he'd actually gotten done under Mello's direction... he wasn't going to mention that either. It was better to let Homura think he was of more use than that. "Guess you got me," he said finally, trying to sound casual. "So what do you want?"

Robin's heavy movement made it clear that Homura had caught him off guard, and the demi-god was certainly pleased by that. It meant that whatever thoughts he had about Ayumu's false persona, Robin hadn't yet been able to confirm anything to such a degree that he expected to be outed like this. Or so the demi-god believed, anyway.

It could just be simple arrogance being shattered in front of his eyes.

In either case, Homura wasn't about to give away any information. Though it was surprising that Robin didn't ask how he'd been discovered, Homura knew better than to bring up the subject first. Doing so would only mean that he was concerned about it, and it was better to act as if he wasn't.

"I want you to work for me instead." Homura didn't have to be told that Matt hadn't accomplished much, at least so far as the History Club was concerned. His connection with Himura had proven convenient; despite being one of the founding members, the mans insistence on not killing meant he was kept out of the loop of some of the group's more critical operations. "If you think about it, and if you've been keeping up with the changing situation, you might even be able to guess how. But I see little use in letting your talents go to waste in light of the circumstances."

That... Well, that was better than it could have been. So it wasn't a matter of being found out and being run through on the spot. He was being asked to work for a club where he was likely to get run through by someone or something else instead. No problem.

No Problem.

"I wasn't lying about not being able to swing a sword," he pointed out. "And I was taking the lessons seriously... though I seem to be being shuffled around in that regard. A gun would still be helpful." Not something he should be asking when he was in this position, really, but it was best to get that little point across, right?

Of course he knew Homura wasn't asking him to lead an attack squad. He wanted spywork. It was best not to let on how worse off he was here, such as the fact that he had no real equipment, lest his usefulness go out the window completely.

"You can work out when you take your lessons on your own." Either Robin was playing dumb, or Homura was going to have to consider getting a new spy. He honestly couldn't think the demi-god would be so foolish as to forget that the man had no background on the battlefield? "So far as guns though, they are in precious short supply. And there's the fact that I don't entirely trust you yet. Certainly not with something that rare, even if I could get my hands on one."

Well, if Homura really did have to spell it out for him, there was no helping it. The risk was made easier simply by the fact that Robin wouldn't be working alone on this task. "Lelouch Lamperouge. By all appearances, he's quickly taking the place of Mello here. And as I made clear on the bulletin, I don't trust him, either." Even before Lelouch had made his power clear (assuming that the note was the whole of the truth), Homura wondered about the boy's intentions, if for no other reason than that most naturally conflicted with his own. And it was almost natural, given his experience, to question those who would put themselves in such a position of authority.

"Your situation is true enough that he might not suspect you're working for me. Assuming you do; I'll make it clear now that accepting this role is entirely your choice. I won't force you to take on this role if that isn't what you wish to do." Homura looked over Robin for a moment, trying to judge just what he might be thinking. "I'll still provide you with a weapon, and I'll do whatever else I can to give you the support you need. So long as you keep your eyes on Lelouch, and don't betray me, of course."

Well, it had been worth a shot. Matt nodded as Homura mentioned the impossibility of the gun and kept a sigh to himself. If he was in the other man's position, he wouldn't trust him either. It was only natural.

He was well aware of Lamperouge, though he'd kept his hands out of that mess so far. He should have known he'd end up dealing with the boy at some point or other. As far as taking the place of Mello, though... in task only. The two of them were nothing alike, as far as he could tell. The persona Mello used in the Institute was mostly an act, as it was possible this boy's was, but there was a difference even so.

Really, the option not to go along with Homura wasn't one he saw as a possibility. When it all came down to it, he was a weakling. It put him at risk, certainly, but he'd be at risk either way. If this option offered protection than it was his only one. He'd died once. He didn't want to waste a second chance so easily.

"That's all you need to say," he shrugged. "I have nothing to gain by not accepting your offer."

"Good." Homura had been prepared for Robin to answer either way, but his acceptance certainly was preferred. Less suspicion would be thrown on 'Sen' this way, as opposed to her abandoning Robin completely for Lelouch.

"You'll have to cut your visible ties with the History Club, or at the very least, with me." Homura faced Robin as he went on, detailing the terms of this particular assignment. "I'll trust you to find some method of getting me the information you find out. I want to know what he intends to do here, and how." Simple enough to say, though Homura doubted it would be so easy to accomplish. True purposes were rarely revealed outside of a circle of trusted people, and anyone wise enough to accomplish them kept that circle small.

"The other thing you'll have to watch out for is his power. At the very least, he can make people tell the truth, though I doubt that is the extent of it." Though his bulletin post indicated otherwise, and had actually come across as supportive--to a degreé. "Obviously if he uses it on you, you'll be compromised." And while Homura had made his views clear, so far as Lelouch knew, Robin wasn't one of the people the demi-god had deemed off limits. But such was the danger involved in this sort of task.

"If you understand and don't have any questions, you're free to go." Homura still had other things to attend to that night, after all. "I'll expect you to start on your new assignment as soon as possible."

Yes, there was that little problem. Matt had no idea if Lelouch's powers worked anything like the Death Note, where he needed a name and face. If that was the case, he didn't believe anyone in the institute knew his name... though there was the matter of the shinigami. He seemed a bit dull, but he'd have to watch out for him anyway. Best he could do if it was anything else would be to avoid looking in the kid's eyes - not too difficult to do without looking away completely.

Cutting ties with the History Club was more bothersome. Avoiding Homura he could do. He just hoped he'd still manage to get some lessons in swordplay now and then. Of course, if he really did have some protection... of course he doubted that protection included bodyguards to follow him around.

The meeting was quick, and left him feeling a bit shaken, but at least he still had a purpose. With Mello gone he'd been starting to let a sense of dread creep back up on him. He could feel some of that easing away now. "You got it."

Matt got to his feet and headed for the door. Homura probably had other matters to worry about tonight and he wasn't the most important issue. He could live with that. Pausing in the doorway, he recalled something he'd meant to say upon arriving. "My room was moved today. I'm in M59 with one Miles Edgeworth. Thought you might like to know."

Then he was out.

Homura was glad Robin told him about the move, and briefly wondered if perhaps it wasn't time to do another survey of where his own people were. That was something to take care of during the day, however. Night was meant for other things, one of which still laid ready on Homura's desk, and he turned his attention to it now that he was alone.

There was still doubt in his mind as to whether or not he should use the vial, or if he should at least wait until Kenren and Nataku arrived. Would it be better, in case the effects somehow stopped his heart, or his breathing? But a Toushin Taishi didn't shy away from risks, and certainly not ones with potential benefits that could have cost others their lives to gain. The War Prince was the first onto the battlefield, the last to leave, and the sole being who bore the weight of those lives taken in the name of the gods.

He'd seen the nurses fill up syringes often enough, and it was a simple matter to repeat the movements now. Homura eyed the black liquid, then let out a slow breath as he injected himself. It was more nerves than actual paion, the tiny prick of the needle barely registering even as he pushed the substance into his body.

No, what came next fell much closer to agony than a needle piercing his skin.

Homura had barely gotten the whole of the contents inside his arm before the pain began. Sharp and intense, he couldn't do so much as cry out before he stumbled to the ground. It spread faster than fire, from his limb into his chest, then outward again. All Homura could manage was to grip his head as the drug went to work in his mind. A flood of power too intense to bear, and with it, a clarity he'd never known. Yet it seemed far off, distant, an impossible goal in the midst of crippling pain ripping through his body.

Some part of him remember that this was what dying felt like, and he couldn't help but be afraid.

(Matt has gone here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/605196.html?thread=50705420#t50705420).)

Homura, strangely enough, was on the floor, seemingly somehow fallen to his knees suddenly. A hand was clutching his head. The strain going through his body was unmistakeable. Something had happened, and the bastard was practically incapacitated with pain. The question was what?

He wasn't about to stop to ask. He wanted to get this over with, the fucker dead, and move onto Landel.

The monk didn't hesitate. Sanzo's gun arm snapped up, the barrel trained towards the god's forehead. He pulled the trigger, the loud crack resounding in the small room.

Somewhere the sound of his door opening registered, but to Homura it was distant and unimportant. Admist the pain he'd finally come to understand, to find a purpose within the prison. He was now and always the Toushin Taishi, an unclean being used for an unclean purpose. The sword of those with power, to be weilded and used at their discretion, and for their will.

The gunshot was so much louder than the door had been. So much more real, but just as insignificant. The air rippled around Homura as the bullet came near, so close to doing as Sanzo wished...

...before it harmlessly ricocheted into one of the walls of the room.

"You shouldn't be here, you know." The pain was nothing more than a fading memory, and Homura grinned as he moved to his feet. "Were you hoping to accomplish something with that little attack? It's a wasted effort, just like everything else you try to gain at night."

There was no need to fear this man. What could he do in the face of a god? Yet Homura relished the answer he knew he'd receive, and the inconquerable spirit that hadn't dulled the in the least over five centuries and numerous reincarnations.

"I'll give you one chance. Go back to your room now, and this will end peacefully, Konzen Douji."

What the fuck? The bullet had been hurtling right towards him: there wasn't any way he'd miss at that range. That would've been a fatal head shot....

...Only, it seemed more like that time he'd tried to fire on the orderlies. The only difference was there didn't seem to be the bullet swerving to avoid him. The shot had connected. Except it was more like Homura himself had just repelled it. Instead of burying itself into his skull, the bullet only bouncing right off the son of a bitch, before burying itself into a wall.

Homura was rising, as if he hadn't just been shot at. He had that same smug grin on his face. Sanzo grit his teeth, even as he spared a small glance at the smoking hole in the wall.

What was going on here?

"I know better than to listen to your shit. Shut up." This wasn't the first time he'd tried to use fair words. Sanzo hadn't been taken in by it then. He wasn't about to be taken in by it now.

With another bang, he fired another shot, this time at his chest.

The second shot shared the fate of the first: perfectly aimed, yet stopped by the invisible power surrounding Homura that kept him safe from such strikes. For the second time the air rippled before the bullet veered away from the demi-god, as if there were a wall surrounding him Sanzo couldn't hope to breech.

Which wasn't so far from the truth.

"I will always like that about you." The stubbornness, the will that refused to bend. It was why he sough people like Sanzo out, and the others. Yet power was what determined who ruled the worlds of gods and mortals alike, and power is what the patients lacked.

His movement was quick, Homura stepping forward with speed that made the strike almost too quick to be seen. Closing the distance between himself and Sanzo, Homura punched hard at the man's chest. It wouldn't be a fatal blow--that would do little good when it came to seeing the man again. But he would easily break bone with the impact, and send Sanzo flying through the doorway of M13 into the hall.

Homura moved, practically a blur. Far faster than he'd ever seen him move before. There was that split second to register that he was suddenly gone from that spot. All of his instincts were railing at that. Sanzo just barely had time to raise both arms to try and block.

It wasn't enough. The blow still struck, and the monk was sent crashing through the doorway and out into the hallway. His shoulders struck the wall hard, almost enough to drop the gun.

For a moment, Sanzo could only just try and get his breath back, sparks swimming across his vision. It felt like his lungs had just collapsed in his chest, and he desperately tried to suck in breath after breath. It felt like he'd just been hit by a truck.

"Not bad." That Sanzo had managed a block was impressive, though Homura was hardly using the full measure of his power. He didn't actually want the man to actually die, after all. He simply needed to apply enough force to throughly discourage Sanzo from venturing beyond his door.

Or at least to knock the monk out. Homura wasn't quite so foolish as to think Sanzo would give up so readily, even in the face of certain defeat.

He walked casually into the hallway, crossing over to where the man was still standing. "You do realize that it's futile, don't you? Despite how hard you fight or how much you struggle, you simply can't win. The only reason you're alive now is because they will it to be." The gods, the Institue. "Continuing to struggle will only make your agony that much worse in the end. Give in, Konzen."

Edited 2009-04-19 09:02 (UTC)

Sanzo's shoulders shook as he coughed, trying to force the air back in. He leaned heavily on the wall, attempted to pull himself up with it and just barely succeeding. There was a sharp pain from his side, his breath remaining short despite his best efforts.

Cracked ribs? Hard to tell just right now. Sanzo's mind was racing, still reeling from the blow and the fact that Homura had somehow gained powers he'd never seen before. Suddenly the god that Sanzo hadn't quite believed he was earlier.

All the monk knew was that bullets weren't going to work on him. The paralyzing tantra? Who knew. Even if it had, what then? Sanzo was pretty sure it'd be useless, unless he planned on bailing. And he wasn't about to.

How the hell did you kill this man?

He wasn't about to give up. The monk scowled at Homura's words. He was alive because he had a will to live; the bastard was full of it. He wasn't under the the gods' thumb, or the institute's. And he'd keep on fighting. He wasn't about to roll over just because it looked grim.

"No one controls whether I live or die. I do, " Sanzo managed. "Go fuck yourself." He straightened a little further, eyes on him. He began chanting under his breath, although it wasn't the same one he'd used on the bastard before. The sutra had been strangely quiet after the arena, but it was worth a shot.

The insult inspired little more than a widening smirk; certainly Homura didn't go do as Sanzo suggested. It made him sorry that he had other things to move on to. Sanzo wouldn't remember what Homura said, but it still held true. When something was so fun, it made a person want to stretch it out. That reason alone was almost tempting enough to not knock out the monk completely, and to give the man opportunity to pursue him.

But Homura had a task to complete, and letting patients roam the halls as they pleased went against his orders.

"Do you really think it will work this time, Konzen?" Homura recognized the quiet sounds of a tantra, but the attempt was laughable at best. Even the power of Sanzo's sutra could be resisted with enough strength, though the demi-god was willing to let the man have a try. Only an utterly crushing defeat stood a chance of convincing this man--and the likeliness of success was minimal even then.

The son of a bitch was just standing back. He wasn't even trying to stop it this time, so secure in his powers.

Even as the last words of the mantra came tumbling out, Sanzo knew something was wrong. Something that didn't have to do with Homura's powers. There wasn't any building power flowing from his body and the sutra jointly. Even when he finished the chant, there wasn't any explosion of light.

Nothing happened. The scripture remained where it was, cold and unresponsive. Despite himself, a chill went down his spine.

The sutra wasn't responding. The gun was, but was doing jackshit against the god. There weren't many options left, but there wasn't any way in hell he was just going to leave, give up on this. Homura had done too much shit to let him live.

Sanzo lunged forward, pushing down the sudden stab of pain from his ribs, swinging at Homura.

So something had gone wrong with the sutra, and the burst of power that had once accompanied the chant had somehow been stolen away. Homura was curious, but not surprised. He'd told the monk his battle was futile, and this only further illustrated the point.

Yet even so, Sanzo still lashed out. Homura couldn't deny his delight as the man tried to land a strike, and he was almost tempted to let him land the hit. But Sanzo wasn't one to appreciate pity, so Homura reached up, catching the monk's wrist in a firm grip.

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to strike me." Maybe if Son Goku were there, then they would stand a chance. As it was, however, with his power gone, his sutra sealed, and his gun ineffective, it was only a matter of time before this battle ended, and the length was entirely left to Homura's discretion.

"So what will you do now, Konzen?" Homura kept hold of the monk's arm, meeting his eyes with an arrogant gaze. "What can you possibly hope to do as you are?"

Sanzo tried to jerk his wrist out of Homura's grasp, but he might as well have tried pulling steel apart. He let out an angry breath. Homura was giving him that look, the one that grated his nerves raw; it was almost as if the god was fucking indulging him. Sanzo's jaw clenched as he spoke.

It was a good question, because as his options went, they were growing fewer by the second. This wasn't only getting worse. The priest was becoming more and more aware of just how outmatched he was right now, and it only made him more frustrated. He might be stronger than most humans - enough that youkai usually didn't take him lightly - but he was still mortal. There wasn't any way he could match this speed or strength.

The question was could he do right now. He couldn't afford to let Homura keep playing his games. He had to try something else; anything to throw him off balance.

"What would that Rinrei bitch think about this?" Sanzo sneered. "Or do you feed her the same shit you feed everyone else here, and she actually believes it."

It was a shot in the dark; he didn't know if the name really meant that much to him or not. Sanzo had only seen Homura asking for that name on the bulletin board once, and then there was that patient file of his with the name 'Lilly' being connected with him; the name had been pretty damn prominent, even if the cover story was fake.

Homura was always one arrogant, even tempered asshole; he always seemed so secure in his power. If the monk could make him lose his cool, he might have more of a chance. People did stupid shit when their control slipped. It wouldn't be the first time he provoked someone.

The monk jerked a knee towards Homura, trying to catch him by surprise.

Few things could rile Homura enough that he would actually give eagerly in to his temper. Out of control emotions created risks on the battlefield, and Homura had long since learned to show no sign of his doubt or his rage. Doing so only provided an opening to the enemy, a way for them to worm inside of his mind and disrupt his focus. But even as good as he was, Homura still had those triggers, just like any fighter, be they god or mortal.

And with three words, Sanzo struck one of his.

That Rinrei bitch. The words all but echoed through Homura's mind, and before Sanzo's knee had a chance to connect, Homura shoved the monk back hard against the wall by pushing with his free hand against his chest. Though he released Sanzo's wrist in the process, there was no chance for recovery; Homura immediately came at the monk, slamming his knee with full force into the man's stomach.

"Can you still hear me, Konzen?" Gripping the monk by the neck, Homura stepped closer, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear. The anger in his words was thinly veiled, perhaps tempered only because he spoke through nearly clenched teeth. "That woman is the one I was willing to destroy the world for. Don't think I won't destroy you as well."

Homura'd definitely had a chink in that armor. He wasn't as invulnerable as he wanted people to believe.

Except he'd acted far faster than he'd expected. There wasn't even any time to exploit that weakness.

Homura had managed to beat that hit as if it was nothing. The god slammed him backwards. Sanzo hit the wall again, harder than before, the wind knocked out of him for the second time, ribs flaring in pain. There wasn't even a chance to try and block. The monk didn't even see the next blow coming until it hit him.

Nothing prepared him for the burst of agony that followed as Homura's knee came crashing into the lightsaber wound. It was like someone had flipped a switch, the sudden shock of pain too much. His vision greyed out, blackening, even as his limbs seemed to lose feeling. The monk's legs suddenly gave out. Sanzo started to sag. The only thing keeping him up was Homura's hand around his neck.

Homura was talking, saying something low in his ear. Sanzo could barely understand it through the pain, consciousness weaving in and out.

'You-you did a piss poor job of it," Sanzo gasped out raggedly.

Nightshift 40: M11-M20 Hallway

M13

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