Sangamon Taylor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
toxicspiderman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2009-05-30 06:40 pm
toxicspiderman) wrote in damned_institute2009-05-30 06:40 pm
Night 41: M81-M90 Hallway
S.T. woke in a rush from a dream involving playing referee to a wrestling match involving two topless girls and a leviathan-sized octopus waiting for a rematch with the Nautilus or the world's largest deep-fryer and dish of butter sauce. His fingers were in his mouth and he was trying to whistle, when the intercom took over the job.
He'd slept through dinner, and the smell of uneaten fish hung in the air. That explained the dreams, at least the parts involving sea life and condiments. He made short work of the potatoes and asparagus, washing them down with the ubiquitous and still-over-chlorinated, now-lukewarm tap water.
Opening the closet doors let out a gentle wave of aromatic brewing by-products; the beer was progressing. He picked up one small bottle without agitating the breadcrumbs off the bottom, and poured a small amount into the glass. Looked like beer, smelled like beer, tasted like flat beer and stale bread. He screwed the caps down on all of them, since it seemed like the time for explosions had passed.
Then he hunted down his toolbox and repacked. The syringes went back in the trash can, labeled and sorted. A spare t-shirt went in the toolbox, pre-emptive protection against bottle-rattling. The flashlight got a new layer of tape, and the glass cleaner went in its holster. Everything ship-shape, which meant it was time to shove off.
[to here]
He'd slept through dinner, and the smell of uneaten fish hung in the air. That explained the dreams, at least the parts involving sea life and condiments. He made short work of the potatoes and asparagus, washing them down with the ubiquitous and still-over-chlorinated, now-lukewarm tap water.
Opening the closet doors let out a gentle wave of aromatic brewing by-products; the beer was progressing. He picked up one small bottle without agitating the breadcrumbs off the bottom, and poured a small amount into the glass. Looked like beer, smelled like beer, tasted like flat beer and stale bread. He screwed the caps down on all of them, since it seemed like the time for explosions had passed.
Then he hunted down his toolbox and repacked. The syringes went back in the trash can, labeled and sorted. A spare t-shirt went in the toolbox, pre-emptive protection against bottle-rattling. The flashlight got a new layer of tape, and the glass cleaner went in its holster. Everything ship-shape, which meant it was time to shove off.
[to here]
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Tim clicked the flashlight on and shone it into the hallway. So far, so good. Nothing was really going on out here, just people looking like they were headed to other places. Tim had heard the rumors about monsters, but there sure weren't any in the hallway. Maybe they stayed away from the "patient" rooms? He didn't know.
What he did know...was that staying put wasn't going to get anything done. So he kept going.
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Such as paying Alita. Ken had dropped the ball somewhere between his last kitchen raid and current dilemma, and therefore, he was feeling rather relieved he still had a night left for the rest. There wasn't much left, actually: just another container, a funnel, and a masher. If he stayed on task tomorrow night, he would have everything for the princess/bounty hunter.
He carefully stowed his current payment into his pillow case and lugged the bulk carefully out the door. Thankfully, Alita's room wasn't that far off.
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/630160.html?thread=53321104#t53321104).]
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Wondering alone unnerved him still, even after all the time he had spent in this place, so as usual he ended up humming to comfort himself. If he continued on his path without company for too long though, he was sure to begin singing out some words as well.
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M86
Leon had every intention of telling his new roommate to go jump off a pier, but then nightfall hit and Landel put on his usual intercom show. Sighing, Leon tucked in the last end of the leather wrappings he'd put on his sword hilt and then grabbed his makeshift swordbelt, slinging it and the sword around his hips. "You're welcome to try killing me, unarmed as you are, but frankly I don't have time for you. So develop some manners or I'm walking out of here and leaving you to figure things out on your own."
Re: M86
Belphegor stood suddenly, tilting his head in an exaggerated confusion. It wasn't quite that he was clueless or naive- curious, more like, and a little excited at the new prospect of danger and even the faintest chance of being hurt. Of course, without his knives, there wasn't much he could do to defend himself, but at the same time, the thrill of being out there where he had the chance to really look around was so much more alluring than remaining here in this boring room with his boring roommate. "Nah, killing you would be a bother. I'll just go with~"
Bright smiles all around. Of course, the easiest way to get to know this place with the least amount of real danger would be to accompany someone armed. That way, not only could Belphegor use him as a distraction to leave in a time of crisis, but Leon also seemed to know his way around, at least a little. This could prove to be advantageous.
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... Damn it, no. Rutee would have his head if Stahn got killed. And, well, Leon didn't actually want him to die. He didn't particularly wish death on his annoying roommate, either--he just wished that the guy would go be alive and safe somewhere else. "... Don't get in my way."
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He supposed he looked at tonight as a test, to see if this little scheme would work. And from the point of view of a good person, it was quite a clever and helpful idea. Citan could easily admit that, and understand why Armand would want to organize the whole affair. But it wasn't getting them any closer to getting out or...any other goals Citan may or may not have had in mind.
Well, there would be time to steer for that later. For now, he had a 'duty' to do and it was best to get to it.
[to here! (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/629246.html?page=2#comments)
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He closed the door carefully behind himself and then headed off down the corridor.
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Once he was ready, he crept along the hallway, sticking close to the wall to use it as a guide.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/630007.html?thread=53657591#t53657591)]
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What he'd do with the time, he wasn't sure. It wouldn't be the first night he'd gone off on his own, dangerous as that was. He was sure to run into someone, though. This had worked well for him in the past.
He grabbed one of his doctors robes, making certain to secure his journal in one of the pockets. His bag of metal was still stashed away, which was good. Hopefully no one would come in while he was gone and try to nab any of it. The short sword he'd created the night before was stashed under his mattress. He pulled it out now, looking it over with the flashlight. It certainly looked and felt like a proper short sword. The young mage couldn't say he knew how to properly wield any sort of bladed weapon, but if his magic was going to be so limited while he was here, it couldn't hurt to have something else to swing at monsters.
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After quickly checking on the rock candy in the closet, Wonka grabbed his usual collection of materials, placed ZEX's sample in his pocket, and left for the kitchen.
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M88
The dragon sat up and cast his own magelight in response, setting it to hover somewhere above his left shoulder. With that taken care of he set out, following the sound in his mind.
[skipping to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/631176.html?thread=53832584#t53832584).]
M81
It hit Tim somewhere he couldn't describe when Kon said he couldn't fly. What would that be like, to be grounded like that? As a non-meta, Tim couldn't miss it. Although he did miss flying with Kon, sometimes.
He'd never felt more grounded than he had the day that Superboy died. There were planes, and he could still jump off buildings, but he would never fly. What Kon was feeling now had to be a thousand times worse, considering the fact that he never even walked anywhere like a normal person unless he had to. But how was that even possible? How could anyone take away Kon's ability to fly?!
Tim had been thinking drugs, but he wasn't sure anymore. Something he didn't understand was going on here - and he sure as hell didn't like it.
The walk back to the room was both too short and too long. Tim could feel his hand shake when he reached for the door to open it. He held it there, waiting for Kon to go through first.
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Chewing on his bottom lip in concern, he watched Robin push open the door to his room. Was he.... shaking?
....Now he was getting nervous and he didn't even know why. It was just Robin right? What could he possibly say or do that would be that big a deal?
But Robin was always calm, even when he was fighting someone like Metallo who gave Superman trouble.
He had said he knew someone who called themselves Superboy and who'd killed his best friend, hadn't he? Robin couldn't think Kon was the same guy. He might have been acting strange but it wasn't anything like he'd expect Robin to act around someone he thought was a murderer. But maybe it had something to do with that? What else could freak Robin out?
Slipping through into the room, Kon immediately turned to face him. Forcing a nervous grin he asked, "So, do we start by introducing ourselves? Hi, my name's Superboy, I like flying, not being locked up in crazy prisons and watching Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?" Lame joke but c'mon, he was working under pressure here!
Re: M81
But the attitude was a little different. He was obviously from earlier on in their shared history. Full of himself. Flirtatious. Smiled easy. Had no idea that half his DNA was Lex Luthor's. It was probably better that way, in retrospect.
But he had no idea that he might grow up a couple of years (mentally, at least) and die saving the world.
Tim closed his eyes. That had been a really, really long day. So had most of the days after it.
"I know who you are, Kon," he said, softly.
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Being armed with knowledge really wasn't going to be enough, here, although it couldn't hurt.
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Arriving outside M86, Leon pointed at the door and barked, "Get in there and stay put! I'm not responsible for anything that happens to you if you get 'bored' and go wandering around like an idiot after we leave!"
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Too bad Leon probably won't calm down anytime soon...
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Before Leon could reply though, Bel grates out another laugh between his teeth, and the door closes behind him. An uneventful night to be sure, but he got the information he needed. He just had to think on it for a bit- and by the looks of it, he had the rest of the night to do so.
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