damned_institute | Nightshift 43: East Wing, Hall A [2nd Floor]

"If I'm going to get killed anyway, my last breath is going to be smoke." Badou replied nonchalantly, glancing back at her. "Come on, we don't have all night."

Despite not sounding any different, he was seriously questioning the wisdom of letting the zombie girl carry a baseball bat and walk behind him for an extended period of time. It didn't seem like an action that would prolong his life. At all.

"I'm still investigating." He replied around a mouthful of smoke. But he had to wonder why she was so reluctant about telling him what she did. He might have been able to guess if she had more normal pastimes, but with the magic and item screens and the other weird shit, she was either a hardcore video game nerd or some kind of secret magical fairy princess zombie vampire from the fifth dimension. It really sucked how both of those things were equally possible.

"Your world must be pretty shitty if you'd take this place over it. What do you mean 'in real life'?" He glanced at her sideways, tone still light and conversational. "When most people talk about their worlds they say 'back home' or 'where I came from.' It almost sounds like you think this is a game. What's going on with you, Alkaid?"

Edited 2009-09-03 23:08 (UTC)

So the eyepatch was calling Alkaid out on the little idiosyncrasies she'd retained from assuming this was still part of The World in some strange way. It didn't really make sense to her, why she was hiding this stuff from most of the people at the Institute, but maybe it had been because the first person she'd talked to here had thought she was crazy. And if Alkaid was gonna be an impressive hero here, then she definitely did not need to be seen as a basket case.

She paused, going over how she was going to explain it. Meanwhile, she shoved the flashlight in her pants, letting the beam illuminate her face (and the ceiling) while she grasped the bat with both hands, preparing to strike the knob in a way that the lock would bust.

"I wouldn't take this place over it! No way! I mean, maybe if I was able to escape here and go somewhere else!! As unfulfilling as my day-to-day life is, it's the body I'm really gonna miss. Check this out."

Then she raised the bat, looking down at the knob. "My real body wouldn't be able to do this."

She smiled, then brought the bat down in a quick arc, movements easy and precise, like her body remembered just what it was supposed to do in such a situation. The lock popped, the doorknob rattled, and then swung open a couple centimeters.

"This isn't my real body, and Alkaid isn't my real name, either. This is my avatar in the game I was playing when I woke up here. ...So there! Now you've got it! Any questions?"

With the flashlight beam on her like that and the bat raised high, Alkaid had some seriously cheesy mood-lighting going for her. Badou braced himself. T-minus ten seconds for flesh-eating unicorns and delicious TV dinners. You didn't really get used to the weirdness of different worlds and crazy superpowers, but mostly he thought it was interesting and tried not to get any deeper than that.

He pointed his own flashlight at the door while Alkaid's bat struck home expertly.

This was all news to him, but it made sense with the things she said before... And it put kind of an interesting spin on the theory he'd offered to Renamon earlier in the day. Any questions? Ha ha ha. Badou thought for a moment, then asked, "So... your boobs are made of what now? I have no idea what you're talking about."

He moved past her to ease the door open.

[to here]

[ from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/709216.html?thread=58537824#t58537824) ]

Rounding the corner, Rolo stopped momentarily to... he couldn't believe he was doing this, but he actually stopped to trace his flashlight against the walls, floor and ceiling to see if this hallway also happened to be "alive". He had no idea what Teresa meant, or even if she was serious, but Rolo stopped taking chances with this weird place a long time ago. He already found out he was possibly dead, stalked by a ghost, found a singing black blob on the ceiling and learned that someone liked to put a fountain of blood in a church at night. Honestly, a living hallway almost sounded logical at this point.

None of these things were adding up to clues that could help him find his brother, though, as Teresa only said that she knew he was here because of Euphemia li Britannia telling her so, another "fact" that was strange itself since the Massacre Princess was a person who was also supposed to be dead. Rolo wasn't sure what to believe at this point. All he knew was that the hallway was clear and it lead up to another dead end, unless these doors led to another hallway.

So, the choices were... stay here, or backtrack and see if the other hallway was 'alive'.

"..." Rolo turned to a door next to him and jiggled the lock, noticing it was unlocked.

Despite her interest in the fleshed wall, Teresa was only a few steps behind Rolo. She noted this hallway continued to be as mundane as it was supposed to be, which didn't surprise her. Stopping next to the boy, silver eyes flickered at him.

"Tell me of Brittania."

When Teresa asked him to tell her about Britannia, Rolo faltered just the slightest. He was used to Teresa not speaking at length, and assumed she didn't care for conversation. And to be honest, Rolo was not one for conversation.

"... It's nice?" He was actually at a bit of a loss. He acted like a Britannian and often pretended to be one, but he lived in the jurisdiction of the Chinese Federation. But he couldn't talk much about that - barely any of his assignments had been in the Chinese Federation, but he never stayed around long enough in Britannia to really talk at length about it...

As he thought of what to say, Rolo decided to open the door he had been inspecting and moved inside the room.

[ to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/715251.html) ]

Edited 2009-09-09 01:44 (UTC)

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/709216.html?thread=58514784#t58514784)]

Just when they had rounded the corner, Kuukaku heard one of those messed up announcements again. She paused to listen, but it really was the same nonsense.

Anyway, this hallway was just as empty as the previous one. Perhaps those monsters were just some cowardly shit-faces or something. Shrugging, she reached for her map again. There were a lot of doors, and it'd be handy to know which one would lead where before busting them in.

Edgar mostly ignored the squawking from the communication system, still uneasy from the recurring visions he seemed to be having. He'd see shadows of his dear friends around corners and in unlit areas, only to have them disappear before he could get a better look. He had enough of a glance to tell they were bloodied, beaten- or at least these visages of them were. Whether they were real, or some hallucination, or the product of evil magic was beyond him.

Kuukaku didn't seem nearly as uneasy, though she may have been a terrific actress. Then again, perhaps these apparitions weren't visiting her.

"Maybe not," he said, continuing the conversation. "Tell me about your homeland."

"Soul Soceity," Kuukaku answered, before looking up from her map. "I'm that place's first class fireworks master!" She had decided on a room now, so she folded the piece of paper and put it back in her pocket. It better have something useful.

"What's wrong anyway? You seem pretty uneasy if you a-" Her words cut off when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. The wall had once again seemed to have pulled away, revealing again those rusty pipes. But this time, there was something among those pipes. A face looked back, bloodied and pale with eyes that seemed to be pleading. Her eyes widened. It was--

She whirled around abruptly, but the only thing that was there had been a normal, solid wall.

"Che! Let's get goin'!" she said and walked over to the door leading to the general storage without so much as giving Gerad a moment to ask any questions. Or for herself to even think about the fact that she had thought she had seen the bloodied face of her dead brother. This had to be some trick, right? She wouldn't let Gerad see some pathetic look on her face.

Edgar hardly had time to note her change in demeanor before Kuukaku had walked away with a hastened pace. She had seen something as well, it seemed, and found the apparition just as unpleasant as he had. He followed her without a word.

Once they'd reached their destination, Edgar knelt and took a look at the lock: it was in a poor state, and had definitely seen better days. "Looks destructible," he noted, standing and giving the knob a try. "Stand back, milady."

The king took the handle end of his light, holding it level with the lock, and strongly butted it against the door. When it didn't give on the first ram, he tried a second, then a third.

[To here.]

[Back from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/716274.html?view=58726130#t58726130)]

According to her map, there were more storage rooms in this place. Though handy, Kuukaku wasn't going to be satisfied with just a first-aid kit. She needed at the very least a weapon, and maybe some inflammable materials. She walked over to the door of the room called the 'janitor's closet', assuming Gerad would follow.

"Locked, huh?" she muttered after trying the lock. The fireworks master glared at it for a moment before proceeding to kick it in. She had to wonder why anyone would bother locking it in the first place with such a seemingly weak lock.

"Nice work," Edgar remarked as he pushed the chair toward the now-open doorway. The two tanks clinked together, the sound of metal hitting metal ringing loudly in the quiet hallway. He stole a glance down the corridor- the hallway was empty, save for a couple of other prisoners and the specters that seemingly followed them. He turned his eyes away from the one that resembled his brother. He would not allow himself to be fooled. Not this time, anyway.

Deciding the chair might be hard to navigate through the room, he opted to leave it sitting outside the door. "I don't suppose anyone will mind if we leave this here for a minute while we have a look around," he said, pushing the chair against the wall with a heave. Even with wheels, those tanks were not light by any standard. "After you, milady?"

[From here.]

The second floor seemed clear tonight -- no signs of that thing that had possibly caused his body temperature to rise the last time Harvey had been here, either. The man's eyes narrowed as he shot a glance around just in case. He could hear some noise coming from his left, but it was far enough down that he didn't think it would be a problem.

However, as Harvey continued down the hall, he realized that there were two people standing right in front of the door that he and Jason needed to get into. Well, great. He realized that it would have been too easy otherwise, but that didn't mean he was ready to cooperate. On the other hand, having to negotiate would at least give him the chance to stop thinking about Rachel.

Once they got closer, he realized that one of them was pushing a chair around for some reason. He eyed it for a moment but ignored it, instead making quick eye contact with the two strangers. His appearance wasn't going to allow him to come across as friendly, but they didn't necessarily have to play nice. It was just a matter of seeing if they were after the same thing. Unfortunately, it looked like they had gotten the door open already, which technically meant that they should get first dibs. Not that Harvey was particularly inclined to play by the rules, but he wasn't going to force a conflict unless he had to.

"Looks like the janitor's closet is most popular than we thought," he lied, crossing his arms over his chest as he sent a casual glance back at Jason. He looked forward again, watching them coolly. "What are you two after?"

This wasn't so good. Jason sized up the two in front of the closet. Neither one looked like a pushover but they were unarmed - pretty much in both ways in the woman's case. He could take them in a fight and unless Two-Face was a complete pussy compared to the one Jason had met before, he'd be able to handle one on his own. But unless they killed them it could also blow their cover. Much as he wanted some action, he didn't want to screw over his chance to get back at Bruce and that could happen if they fought.

He'd let Two-Face do the talking for now, but if it came down to a fight he wasn't going to cry about it. If Bruce heard that he'd been travelling with Two-Face he'd just have to try harder to get him in place. It wouldn't be that difficult, Batman could be so predictable and Jason had more than enough leverage here. He may as well make use of the baby bird being around since he couldn't do anything about it.

With the new intercom announcement and the increased noise that came with it a fight began to look even more appealing. He wanted a distraction from the ways his guts clenched in (fear) agitation and standing around making nice wasn't going to cut it. Jason didn't bother hiding the machete he was carrying or try to look anything other than threatening, tension humming through him as he waited for confrontation.

The door gave away after a couple of kicks. "Like some damned door's gonna stop me," she answered to Gerad's comment, and she was just about two enter when two strange men suddenly approached them. The fireworks master narrowed her eyes as she watched them. One of these guys had a half-burned face, she noted. In any case, both punks didn't look like they were here for some lame tea party.

But Kuukaku wasn't easily intimidated. Like some cool tone or a machete was gonna scare her, anyway. Her eyes narrowed as she placed her hand on her hip: "And who the hell are you punks?!"

They got here first, so that meant she was going to ask the questions here!

Edgar took interest as the two men approached them- both looked like they'd seen rougher days than most people, especially the man with the burned face. He took a quick glance at the one man's bladed weapon- clearly, they were dressed for battle. He wasn't one to drop his guard entirely, but he also wasn't the type to start a fight where one wasn't necessary.

"What the lady means," he said, stepping to the side of the wheeled chair and giving an open-palmed gesture, "Is to ask who you two gentlemen might be. We've seen few souls around, especially in this area." Well, that wasn't entirely true- they had seen specters of some sort, but as they were likely conjured demons, they didn't have much valid standing in the count.

"As for us," he continued, "We're simply scavenging for supplies in some of these rooms. What about you?"

Neither the man nor the woman reacted much to his appearance. Oh, they noticed, but they didn't look particularly mortified. Harvey was surprised by that, if he had to be honest -- though when he realized that the female was missing an arm, her lack of response made more sense.

That didn't excuse her attitude, though. The man accompanying her tried to be diplomatic about it, but this negotiation hadn't gotten off to a very good start.

"It doesn't really matter who we are, does it?" Harvey shot back, and his tone was only a shade or two below hostile. "We're specifically looking for rope, so as long as you don't get between us and finding some, there shouldn't be a problem." If they started getting curious about why they needed rope, then things might get ugly. Still, Harvey would prefer that didn't happen, seeing how they would be better off if they stayed under the radar until tomorrow night.

The intercom and the unending screaming coming out of it had been bothering Harvey for a while, but then a sudden silence replaced it. He heard ragged breathing, as if someone was in distress. It seemed so familiar...

And then, her voice.

"They told me that only one of us was gonna make it..."

It took a lot of self-restraint for Harvey not to glare at the nearest intercom system. How could it be doing this? He had already seen her; he didn't need to hear her final words once again. They had run through his mind so many times already -- he had let them torture him. Hearing it so clearly once again--

But he had to keep his composure. He wasn't going to fall apart around these strangers -- or Jason, for that matter.

Oh yeah, Two-Face was one hell of a negotiator. Jason wouldn't have bothered with anything more civil himself but you'd think the man who up until recently - according to Dent - had been a successful DA would have had a bit more patience. But then, he had been Gotham's DA and Dent had probably been messed up long before his little 'acid trip' according to all of Bruce's stupid files.

This was going to get messy, the only question was how badly these two were going to get hurt. He could just let Two-Face shoot them in head and be done with it but he didn't think they deserved to die and if anyone happened to see them leaving the scene they'd have someone out for their heads. Besides, the woman in particular looked like she'd be worth a good brawl.

Jason didn't even bother pretending to be diplomatic, smirking as he addressed the pair. "I think what he meant to say was, are you going to get out of our way or do we have to make you?" He let the hand holding the machete hang loose and ready by his side as he moved away from Two-Face to give himself some room to move. He hoped she took the challenge, if they just talked it out he wasn't going to have any fun. Sure, he wanted to get the rope before the night ended. Tying Bruce up promised too much entertainment to pass up but that didn't mean he couldn't play now.

"Oi! Don't interrupt me while I'm talkin', got it?!" Kuukaku scolded to her traveling companion, obviously not pleased by the way he corrected her. The damned wheelchair was in the way, or she would've kicked him to emphasize her point. Either way, the fireworks master wasn't known for her diplomacy. More for her temper.

She redirected her gaze towards the other two. "If it doesn't matter, I wouldn't ask, dumbass!" she continued to scold, glaring at the guy with his face burned off before shrugging. "Che! I don't care about your damned rope, you punks can have it for all I care!"

And she simply didn't feel like dealing with any sort of crap while trying to find items, but there was one thing she apparently had to make clear. "But we got here first! If you're gonna cause trouble I'll kick both of your sorry asses, am I bein' clear?!"

She noticed the younger punk of the two take a step back as he shifted his weapon, and the fireworks master narrowed her eyes in response. "That also goes for you!"

The obvious threat the kid just made really didn't help things.

"The point I'm trying to make, milady," he said with a hint of irritation, "Is that there's no point in picking a fight with people who have a similar goal. They're looking for rope, we're looking for supplies, and we're all looking to get into that room. Bickering like children is pointless and time-consuming."

The inter-prison communication hissed again, its words sounding strangely familiar. The shade of his brother had disappeared, now replaced with one of his father, his face pale and sickly, his skin decomposing. He ignored both the speaker and the specter for the time being- now wasn't the time for distractions. Now was the time to move.

He purposefully turned away from them and walked to the open doorway. "I suggest we go ahead and find what we're looking for so we can be on our way again. You can be as volatile as you like to each other once we've done what needs to be done." With that, he stepped into the room, hoping his being in the room with the supplies would draw the others in.

[To here.]

[ from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/715251.html?thread=58788595#t58788595) ]

Rolo hoped that his troubles would end once he stepped out into the hallway, but he noticed immediately that a few doors ahead of him was... a bunch of people. People who didn't seem too happy. Rolo wasn't sure what was going on, but he turned his head away and quietly made his way past the group in an effort to completely ignore them. He thought he overheard something about a "janitor's closet", but Rolo wasn't in the mood to eavesdrop.

He walked all the way to the end of the hall instead. There were three doors before him, and he was about to try the one to his right when - he paused, hearing... something from that door. It sounded like yelling and ... a fight?

Whatever was going on in there, Rolo wanted no part of. But maybe Teresa would be interested, so he didn't outright leave the area in the hopes that maybe she would deem that room more interesting than him and finally leave him the hell alone. Since the room on the right was out of the question, Rolo attempted to open the door on the left, the very last one. But he was met with the solid resistance of a lock, a very strong lock since he couldn't even turn the doorknob.

"..." There was no way he was asking for Teresa for help breaking this one so he just tried the next door over, which was locked too much to his dismay. But unlike the doorknob he just tried, this one looked and felt rusted and weak. Determined to do something on his own, Rolo kept forcing the doorknob to turn and even used his bat to smack at the knob, noting how it wasn't quite fastened to the door. If he could just force it off...

Edited 2009-09-16 02:44 (UTC)

Silver eyes flickered over to take in the group outside, but she didn't comment. They were all human, as far as she could tell, and thus little concern to her. Rolo also seemed intent on not bothering with them, which suited her fine.

Calmly watching the boy, Teresa let him go about trying various knobs, well aware of the combat going on behind the door to the one room, but let him make his own choice. And his choice seemed to be to struggle in a somewhat amusing way with the door rather than asking the hybrid for help.

He knew she could take care of it easily and yet...

My, my, the boy had an amusing amount of pride.

Pride really had nothing to do with it. Rather, Rolo didn't want to give Teresa the impression that he needed her around. Granted, he initially thought she was useful for her strength before, but now that he knew exactly what she was, his entire opinion of her changed. So asking her for help would be counter intuitive, really.

Besides, he was sure he could get the knob undone on his own. Just a little more... Rolo managed to jiggle the knob to the point where it was just about sticking out of the door, leaving the hole it was attached to exposed. He raised his bat, striking squarely at the gap and... A snap was heard, and Rolo let his lips curl into a satisfied smirk before pushing the door open.

See, he could do it by himself.

[ to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/719832.html) ]

[From here]

"This way, right?" Scott asked, barely glancing back at Indy for confirmation as they rounded a corner into what he somewhat guessed to be the right hallway.

As they walked, the intercom above them sprang to life again with an unexpected burst of loud static, making Scott jump. More bizarre noises and what sounded like choppy computer code crackled out of the speakers above them, and what sounded like a mass of faraway screams filtered through in the background. Scott didn't want to admit it, but the noises were creeping him out almost as much as the imagined (it had been imagined, right?) smell from the bat corpses earlier. The fact that he still could not make himself look away from the game screen did not help matters. Where's the volume? Options menu? C'mon! he thought, feeling a rising sense of dread inside.

Trying to ignore the disturbing sounds for the moment, he stopped in front of a door and leaned over to check the map in Indy's hand. "This the closet door?" he asked. While waiting for an answer, he reached for the door handle. There wasn't any give, though he didn't check to see if he was actually turning the knob the right way or not. "Huh, must be locked. Hang on, I'll take care of that," he said, backing up against the other side of the hallway. Taking a moment to focus himself and block out the intercom as best he could, Scott grinned. With a running start, he sprung through the air, his right foot aimed right for the center of the door. "Taaaaake that, door!"

KA-CRACK!

THUD.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

Scott found himself sprawled on the ground with a sore bum for the second time that night. The wood of the door in front of him was badly cracked open where he had jump-kicked it, leaving enough room for someone to reach inside and undo the lock. The kick had done much more damage than should have been expected by the laws of physics, and yet it hadn't been what Scott Pilgrim was expecting. "Usually that just breaks the whole thing down," he groaned in pain, pushing himself up off the ground and checking himself over. "Oh man, scraped elbows . . . "

He touched the scrape and winced. "Man, this really does hurt. Almost like I really did that," he said to himself, that sinking feeling trying to take over his stomach again.

Edited 2009-09-19 15:45 (UTC)

Indy didn't like the noises the intercom was making--moans and yells, as though someone were in pain. Who? He wasn't equipped even to make a good guess at the answer, which galled him. There were too many voices to be from the experiments, surely. Just a snippet from a movie or something? Indy wouldn't've put it past Landel, but he wasn't sure he could write it off that easily.

Finally heading into the closet at least gave him something productive to focus on, which felt good. Even better, it looked like the lock had already been smashed in. Indy turned to Pilgrim. "All right," he said, "let's--", and that was as far as he got before the younger guy did a flying kick at the unlocked door. The wood splintered. Indy felt a strong, uncomfortable sense of deja vu. Good thing Pierson wasn't here; he'd be rolling on the floor by now.

"You all right?" Indy asked with a raised eyebrow. Pilgrim was getting up and whining about his elbows, which Indy took as a relatively good sign. "Look," he said, in the tones of a professor who's trying to be patient about reviewing the 101 material for the hapless graduate-student class, "you want to kick it right around the lock or underneath the knob. And for God's sake don't use a jump kick. You're just asking to get hurt."

He swung the door open and stopped in the doorway, trying to decide whether to say it. In the end, he felt almost compelled, if only to see what it felt like to be the smug one here. "And next time you do this, Pilgrim--try not to kick down an unlocked door."

Turned out it felt pretty good. Indy decided he would not be telling Pierson.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/720638.html?thread=58908670#t58908670)]

Nightshift 43: East Wing, Hall A [2nd Floor]

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