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damned_institute2009-10-11 10:43 am
gundamned.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-10-11 10:43 am
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Night 44: Men's Bathrooms (M81-M120)
[From here]
Setsuna swept his flashlight across the bathroom twice, on the lookout for monsters hiding in the dark that would need to be eliminated. However, seeing none, he stepped in deeper into the room, searching for an object that could possibly break one of the mirrors.
His eyes drifted to the hand-dryers positioned near the counter. Without contemplating on it further, he quickly walked towards them and grabbed hold of one, then positioned himself in front of one of the mirrors. He set his flashlight down on the next counter, then held the hand-dryer with both hands and swung it at the mirror.
A loud bang echoed throughout the empty bathroom, followed by the sound of the mirror cracking. He frowned; it required more power. He raised the hand-dryer one more time and targeted the crack, swinging the hand-dryer with all the force he could muster.
There was a deafening crash as bits and fragments of the mirror burst forward, some pieces slicing through Setsuna's arms and drawing blood. He winced and gritted his teeth, ignoring the stinging feeling as he grabbed his flashlight and surveyed the broken fragments on the ground, the light occasionally hitting a larger piece and reflecting light onto the blue and white walls.
He gathered some paper towels and picked up the larger pieces of mirror. There were around six of them, enough to last until such time that he found a more sufficient weapon. He wrapped the fragments in the paper towel and tucked them inside his pocket. The rest of the towels he used for wiping the blood off his arms.
Without lingering any further, he left the bathroom and headed to his next destination: Feldt Grace's room.
[To here]
Setsuna swept his flashlight across the bathroom twice, on the lookout for monsters hiding in the dark that would need to be eliminated. However, seeing none, he stepped in deeper into the room, searching for an object that could possibly break one of the mirrors.
His eyes drifted to the hand-dryers positioned near the counter. Without contemplating on it further, he quickly walked towards them and grabbed hold of one, then positioned himself in front of one of the mirrors. He set his flashlight down on the next counter, then held the hand-dryer with both hands and swung it at the mirror.
A loud bang echoed throughout the empty bathroom, followed by the sound of the mirror cracking. He frowned; it required more power. He raised the hand-dryer one more time and targeted the crack, swinging the hand-dryer with all the force he could muster.
There was a deafening crash as bits and fragments of the mirror burst forward, some pieces slicing through Setsuna's arms and drawing blood. He winced and gritted his teeth, ignoring the stinging feeling as he grabbed his flashlight and surveyed the broken fragments on the ground, the light occasionally hitting a larger piece and reflecting light onto the blue and white walls.
He gathered some paper towels and picked up the larger pieces of mirror. There were around six of them, enough to last until such time that he found a more sufficient weapon. He wrapped the fragments in the paper towel and tucked them inside his pocket. The rest of the towels he used for wiping the blood off his arms.
Without lingering any further, he left the bathroom and headed to his next destination: Feldt Grace's room.
[To here]
no subject
S.T. made two observations shortly after entering. One, someone wasn't superstitious -- bits and pieces of plate-glass mirror caught shards of light and flipped them back to him. Two, the sulfuric-byproduct cocktail that was unique to human metabolism of asparagus had gone from a party-stopper of a topic to a migraine-inducing toxic miasma.
S.T. was unsure if he had words to describe how whole-heartedly his hatred was for the Institute's administration, whether or not the Lazarus on the intercom was one of them or just another rube.
[back out to here]
no subject
Perhaps unsurprisingly, Minato stepped into the bathroom to find it a mess. He set his bag of gear against the bathroom door, slipping one hand into his sweatpants pocket as he took a closer look at the damage. Someone had taken a hand-dryer and shattered the mirrors for some reason, leaving the floor and sinks covered in glass.
All it took was a glance back at his equipment to make up Minato’s mind. Taking one of his newly-acquired baseball bats, he positioned himself next to one of the sinks. He adjusted the bat in his hands, hesitant; he really didn’t consider himself a vandal, and breaking pipes wasn’t high on his list of things he should be doing as a high schooler.
Of course, fighting Shadows and ending up in a mental institute hadn’t even existed on said list until the needs presented themselves.
He swung hard at the pipe, squaring his jaw at the resulting reverberation. Another swing and he had to adjust his grip on the bat. A third swing was rewarded with a heavy creak from the pipe. Minato put one foot up on the pipe and shifted his weight, delivering three more swings before water burst from the pipe.
Maybe he should have thought this through a little better. The stench from the stagnant water filled the air, and he wrinkled his nose as he continued battering at the pipe. When it finally clattered— splashed— to the floor, he scooped it up and held it against his sopping wet T-shirt. There was some rust around the rings on the ends, but it seemed pretty new as far as pipes went.
Sending an apologetic look back at the once-again-flooding bathroom, the drenched high schooler picked up his bag and headed back to his room.