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damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-09-20 11:43 am
Entry tags:
- abe sapien,
- aidou,
- alec,
- alexander conklin,
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- allelujah,
- anise,
- artemis,
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- forte,
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- guy,
- haine,
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- hinamori momo,
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- l,
- lelouch,
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- lockon (neil),
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- meche,
- mele,
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- nigredo,
- otacon,
- peter parker,
- peter petrelli,
- phoenix,
- pied piper,
- reno,
- rey,
- rolo,
- ronixis,
- sai,
- sam winchester,
- sasuke,
- scar (tlk),
- schuldig,
- scott pilgrim,
- scourge,
- sechs,
- setsuna,
- sheena,
- shikamaru,
- sho,
- soma,
- sora,
- starscream,
- suzaku,
- sylar,
- sync,
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- teresa,
- terry,
- the flash,
- the scarecrow,
- tim drake,
- touya,
- tsubaki,
- tsuchimiya kagura,
- two-face,
- tyki,
- utena,
- venom,
- von karma,
- yohji,
- yuffie,
- yukari yakumo,
- zex,
- zoro
Day 44: breakfast
Yuffie had died.
No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…
Had it all been some kind of hallucination?
Had she imagined the whole thing?
No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.
The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.
Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…
[Closed to Sheena]
No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…
Had it all been some kind of hallucination?
Had she imagined the whole thing?
No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.
The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.
Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…
[Closed to Sheena]
no subject
Sechs nodded with a smirk. "Ah, Forte! Gotcha. I'm Sechs, although you probably already know that." That name sounded a lot more suitable for a fighter than just regular 'ol "Frank". It must have been a name those stupid staff members slapped on him... Like that stupid "Cody" name. Bleugh...
And then came the rest of his introduction. "Strongest Super Fighting Robot in the world?!" Sechs would have been offended by such an outlandish claim; he knew a few people who deserved such a title, including himself. Instead, Sechs' smirk shifted into a challenging grin that spread from cheek to cheek. An aggressive glint flickered in his yellow eyes as stared down the so called "super fighting robot". For a brief moment Sechs forgot the pain in his leg or the food on his plate; this potential challenge was far too good to ignore!
"Really? You think so, huh?" Sechs spoke with an amused tone in his gruff voice. Disregarding his food for now, Sechs leaned his left elbow on the table to prop his chin upon his palm. His toothy sneer widened. "What fighting style do ya use then? Those stripes under yer eyes... You a fighter of the Panzer Kunst arts?"
no subject
"I shoot things, that's my style. I could show you if I had my real body, but it sounds like you've got the same problem."
no subject
With his chin still rested upon his palm, Sechs awkwardly grasped a fork with his braced hand and then firmly stabbed it into the center of his French toast. The challenging flare in his eyes burned on towards Forte.
"Uh huh." Sechs growled, his sneer now shrunk back into his smirk. "Well, let me tell ya something. Panzer Kunst is a cyborg-only style that's made some of the best fighters in the world, even the whole universe. If all you got is some pop-gun, I'd say you'd need a bit more than that to prove to me that you're the 'world's strongest super-duper robot'!"
With his challenge thrown out to the fellow robot, Sechs tore out a piece of the impaled French toast and shoved it in his mouth. His pretentious smirk still fixed upon his lips.
no subject
At Sechs's challenge, though, he slammed it onto the table again, "I don't have a pop-gun, I am my own cannon. Or I could just copy the weapons of any robot I defeat." ...was, actually but that was beside the point. "...and just because I don't have my own body now doesn't mean I can't kick your butt."
no subject
"A cannon who can copy other weapons, huh? Now that sounds better!" Sechs' smile started to return, but he still spoke to Forte in a mocking manner; he wasn't ready to take the fellow android seriously just yet. "What specs does your cannon have? It better not be some cheap kid's toy!"
Once he had shoved in the second chunk of his breakfast, the nurse who pestered him earlier suddenly approached his side with a small paper cup of pills.
"Here are your pain killers Mr. Sasaki--"
Yet she barely had a chance to finish her sentence when Sechs' hand flashed out to snatch the cup away from her. Mouth still full of food, Sechs meant to say "GIMME!" but instead it came out more like a "MMPH MEH!!"
Looking absolutely offended by Sechs' utterly rude behavior, the nurse gave out an indigent huff. "Now what do you say after being given something?" she asked in a tone more bitter than sweet.
Sechs frowned in what appeared to be deep thought as he finished consuming his food. Once his mouth was clear enough to speak, Sechs replied, "uh... Screw off?"
And with that the nurse gave out a haughty "hmph!" and was off to care for less barbaric patients. All of which happened in less than five seconds flat.
"As I was saying..." Sechs continued before throwing down his pain killers, "get yourself fixed up first, then we can see about who can do the butt-kicking!" After he took a drink to wash down the pills Sechs added, "speaking of which, what the hell happened to ya?!"
no subject
Forte watched with amusement as Sechs grabbed his painkillers (they had those? Why didn't anyone tell Forte he could stop pain with some pills?), and sipped more of his smoothie.
"There are some pretty serious monsters here. I was on a mission with another 'bot to get supplies for explosives, when we a giant cat-thing attacked us. And just so you know - we got the supplies back; and I look like this, but the cat-thing is dead."
no subject
Sechs' sharp eyebrows perked up at the mentioning of the machine that Forte fused with. "Gospel? That some sort of robot or vehicle?" Sechs questioned. Forte's description mildly reminded Sechs of the various machines and support systems offered by G.I.B to their TUNED Agents. Yet Sechs was unable to take advantage of such powers for very long, the corporation that created Sechs fell shortly after his creation...
"Tell me about it!" Sechs grunted. Feeling stiff and uncomfortable in his seat, Sechs leaned back against his chair and stretched his wounded leg out. He carefully laid his splinted hand upon the spot where the piece of mirror had punctured into his thigh. Despite the sharp pangs that shot up his leg, Sechs managed to fell out a row of stitches wrapped in a layer of bandages underneath his pant leg. Feeling such unnatural, bumps on his flesh made Sechs wince slightly with pain and disgust.
Avoiding the fresh memories of the mirror flashing deep into his leg, Sechs drove his attention back to Forte. "So you managed to kill the monster that attacked ya, huh?" he responded with a nod of his head. This guy was really starting to sound like a worthy warrior to challenge! "Must have been a pretty huge cat to cause all that damage! But if you killed it, then I'd say you sound like you got some good battling skills!"
Or it could have been that Forte just had less luck and skill to fight without surviving the ordeal by the skin of his teeth...
"I had a rumble with a monster last night too actually." Sechs began his own boasting with an ever growing smirk, "killed the nasty thing myself! I got a..." Suddenly Sechs words were cut off by a repressed grunt of pain. Damn, his leg hurt...! The Replica's hand clutched at the wound in a futile attempt to stem off the pain before he continued in a strained voice, "...souvenir from it but in the end I won."
no subject
He was impressed by Sech's injury, but it seemed more painful to him than Forte's were. Possibly because he'd been walking on it, while Forte was just sitting in this chair (it had definitely hurt when he tried to sit up in bed), or because his injury was fresh, while Forte had been... unconscious for several days before waking up. He didn't even know what his skin looked like under the bandages... certainly didn't want to know. But at the moment, without moving, it was just a dull throbbing that he could ignore if he didn't think about it.
Or maybe Sechs just couldn't handle the pain as well... but if he'd been able to kill his attacker, like Forte, that wasn't very likely.
Speaking of which... "Well, Depth Charge was there as well," he admitted, with a helping of false modesty. "It attacked me first, so I kept it busy and attacked when I could, while he got it from behind. It kept darting around, though, so it got me in the side," he pointed to the plentiful bandages on his torso, "I grabbed it and held it down while Depth Charge finished it off." Sure, it wasn't quite him killing it himself, but he was still pretty proud. And... he might not have actually attacked it himself, but the exact details once he was one the ground were hazy, at best (for example, he was pretty sure he was wrong about how his left hand had been injured, he certainly didn't stab himself, so he was remembering it wrong).
"Next time, I'll get a weapon first, so I have something to really block with besides this weak body."
no subject
The Replica took note of the other robot's name. Depth Charge, eh? Sounds like a good name for a deadly fighter... "And you survived all that, huh?" Sechs spoke with a lightly impressed grin. "Creatures like that don't stand a chance when they're up against cyborgs, but in bodies like these they're... challenging." In a more life or death situation than in a fun way unfortunately...
Sechs nodded with a gruff 'hmph' of acknowledgment. Hearing that he wasn't the only one who struggled with the organic body he was put into helped Sechs feel a bit better. It didn't change the situation or get him back his Fizziroy body, but not being alone on the matter did take some of the edge off his frustration.
"Yeah, that chicken shit Landel took everything away from us." Sechs bitterly grumbled. "Everyone definitely needs to get some sort of weapon here. These bodies are too breakable... If I was still in my Fizziroy body last night, I wouldn't have this pain-in-the-ass injury right now." Sechs scowled at his leg before adding, "what I was stabbed with last night would have just bounced off then. It wouldn't have even left a scratch!" Even hollow-point bullets couldn't leave a mere dent in his head when he was still cyborg, a piece of glass would have simply shattered upon hitting his skin. "We gotta adapt to whatever this hell hole throws at us." Sechs added in a serious tone.
Dang... Finding another worthy opponent and all this talk of battles was making Sechs antsy for action! If only he could have some sort of fight right now! Maybe if he challenged Forte to an arm wrestle... Wait, both of their arms weren't in good shape... Oh, maybe a thumb-war? ...Nah. Staring contest? ...no. Crap, this sucked...
Picking up from where he had left of his breakfast, Sechs gave Forte a less hostile grin. "When we get outta here and return to our original forms, I wanna battle with ya and see if you really are the strongest fighting robot!" With a chunk of French toast stuck on his fork, Sechs pointed the utensil at Forte as he added, "in the mean time, when we get ourselves repaired - erm, I mean - healed or whatever, I'd be no more than happy to have a spar with ya! How does that sound?"
no subject
"Yeah, that cat wouldn't be able to scratch my real body. I wouldn't have even let it get close. But I've had to fight without armor or a real weapon. It hurts, but... it's also fun like this."
Forte tried to stand at the challenge, on reflex, but winced and leaned back again. "Alright! I'm trying to get another prisoner to heal me, so don't get too relaxed just because I'm so torn up."
He also wanted to ask about Sechs's own powers and weaponry besides Mini-Sechs. Unfortunately, the announcement came on to signal the end of the shift, and he didn't get to decide where he was going next - they considered him a "child" to his aggravation. The nurse was already coming to fetch him. "You'll have to tell me about this 'Panzer Kunst' later."