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damned_institute2009-11-21 09:02 pm
idontregret.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2009-11-21 09:02 pm
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Night 45: Men’s Bathrooms (M81-M120)
[from here]
The lights in the bathroom didn't seem to be working.
Heath flipped the switch a couple more times just to be certain before angling his flashlight upward. It wasn't as if he could actually tell if it was the bulbs or the electricity that was out unless there were broken bulbs and wires dangling, but it had been worth a shot anyway. Eventually, he set his light on its end so that it shone up at the ceiling and bathed the area around him in a faint glow. That would be enough for now, as he didn't expect to stay long.
The room smelled odd, somewhat musty and not how he recalled the restrooms smelling here before. It might have been that whoever did the cleaning hadn't gotten around to it before the end of the day, at least that was the excuse he was going to use as he turned on the water at the sink and splashed some into his face. The smell was stronger now - more like rust than anything. He'd cupped his hands and taken a large sip of water before realizing that it was the source of the odor. He spit it back out into the sink with a look of disgust. Something was wrong with the lighting and the pipes? There must have been a power outage and the backup generator wasn't yet up and running. The Institute's water was likely pumped up from a well.
He spit a couple more times, just trying to get the gritty taste from his mouth to little avail. Now he regretted tossing his dinner aside as he had. That cup of juice would have solved this problem.
His stomach chose that moment to twist into an empty knot and he gripped both sides of the sink forcefully, bowing his head until the feeling had lessened. It wouldn't go away completely. Then he stared through red bangs at his reflection, an eerie visage lit from below by his light on the ground, as monstrous on the outside as he was feeling within.
"Why do you hesitate?" the reflection asked.
Heath pushed away from the sink violently, staggering back and staring in horror at the mirror. In it, he saw the self from his dreams, hand on his hip and sneering. The uniform, the cape... it must have been something in the water.
So why was he responding? "I'm not... whatever you are!" Demon. Cannibal. Both at once. "I have someone to return to. A home. A normal fucking life!"
He was losing it. He should never have left his room. Now he was hallucinating, and any progress he'd made in the Institute so far was going to go out the window as soon as he yelled for someone, anyone. Running out of the bathroom might have been his best option, but his feet seemed rooted where they were. Somehow, he couldn't get himself to move.
The image chuckled. "If you don't devour, you'll go mad."
"I'm already mad! I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Heath reached for his flashlight, meaning to use it to shatter the glass, but before he could so that his reflection reached for him - through the mirror - gripping him by the front of his robe.
The lights in the bathroom didn't seem to be working.
Heath flipped the switch a couple more times just to be certain before angling his flashlight upward. It wasn't as if he could actually tell if it was the bulbs or the electricity that was out unless there were broken bulbs and wires dangling, but it had been worth a shot anyway. Eventually, he set his light on its end so that it shone up at the ceiling and bathed the area around him in a faint glow. That would be enough for now, as he didn't expect to stay long.
The room smelled odd, somewhat musty and not how he recalled the restrooms smelling here before. It might have been that whoever did the cleaning hadn't gotten around to it before the end of the day, at least that was the excuse he was going to use as he turned on the water at the sink and splashed some into his face. The smell was stronger now - more like rust than anything. He'd cupped his hands and taken a large sip of water before realizing that it was the source of the odor. He spit it back out into the sink with a look of disgust. Something was wrong with the lighting and the pipes? There must have been a power outage and the backup generator wasn't yet up and running. The Institute's water was likely pumped up from a well.
He spit a couple more times, just trying to get the gritty taste from his mouth to little avail. Now he regretted tossing his dinner aside as he had. That cup of juice would have solved this problem.
His stomach chose that moment to twist into an empty knot and he gripped both sides of the sink forcefully, bowing his head until the feeling had lessened. It wouldn't go away completely. Then he stared through red bangs at his reflection, an eerie visage lit from below by his light on the ground, as monstrous on the outside as he was feeling within.
"Why do you hesitate?" the reflection asked.
Heath pushed away from the sink violently, staggering back and staring in horror at the mirror. In it, he saw the self from his dreams, hand on his hip and sneering. The uniform, the cape... it must have been something in the water.
So why was he responding? "I'm not... whatever you are!" Demon. Cannibal. Both at once. "I have someone to return to. A home. A normal fucking life!"
He was losing it. He should never have left his room. Now he was hallucinating, and any progress he'd made in the Institute so far was going to go out the window as soon as he yelled for someone, anyone. Running out of the bathroom might have been his best option, but his feet seemed rooted where they were. Somehow, he couldn't get himself to move.
The image chuckled. "If you don't devour, you'll go mad."
"I'm already mad! I'm talking to you, aren't I?" Heath reached for his flashlight, meaning to use it to shatter the glass, but before he could so that his reflection reached for him - through the mirror - gripping him by the front of his robe.
no subject
Heat's reflection only laughed as the second hand reached out of the mirror and braced itself on the faucet. Then, the head of the monster followed. The skeleton had a few tufts of vivid red hair, and one eyeball rolled around in its socket. Then, it bared its teeth - teeth that were few in number, but razor-sharp - and hissed.
That was a dare as much as it was anything else. The mirabis' heart seemed to beat within its open chest, as if it were echoing the words: Give in. Give in. Give in.
[Jen]
no subject
He was losing his mind, his fears manifesting themselves in a vivid hallucination. Somehow he had to break out of this, but it seemed oh so very real and his body was screaming at him to devour. His human persona clung to dominance, disgust at the very thought of sinking his teeth into this thing remaining on the surface.
It was something out of a nightmare... and maybe it was a nightmare. He was back in his bed and the sight of blood before he'd drifted off had caused him to dream this up. The thought failed to reassure him as his feet slipped on the tiled floor.
no subject
That hand - with long, yellow nails that were less brittle than they had any right to be - dug into his arm, hard enough to draw blood. It was as if it was tempting him, with the visible organs and the scent of blood. If nothing else, it was an attempt to break that human resistance.
no subject
Heath O'Brien was a med-school drop-out from Connecticut who, aside from a few slip-ups, lived a perfectly healthy and normal lifestyle. But Heat was a demon that fed on the flesh of others of his kind to survive, and who hadn't consumed a single ounce of worthy sustenance since his revival. His forced persona could only do so much.
The weakness that had been slowly overcoming Heath in the wake of hunger gave way to a sudden rush of adrenaline. He released the arm gripping his collar and snatched at the other one before sinking his teeth into what little flesh there was just above its elbow.
no subject
The rest of it began to slide out of the mirror, its single eye rolling in its socket. That heart still beat within its open chest, broken ribs revealing a hole large enough for him to reach through, if he wanted.
no subject
There wasn't even a voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to stop. Even his other self was relieved at this release, because at this moment they both knew it was the only way. He'd regret later, perhaps, when his belly was full and his mind cleared. For now, he'd let himself be a monster.
no subject
She'd been drawn by the noises from inside the bathroom, noises that she recognised, recalled fro hearing them so very many times. Bloodlust, hunger and the relief and pleasure that came from sinking your teeth into fresh struggling flesh, the blood warm and hot against your tongue. It had always repulsed her, but she desired it as well. She couldn't deny the beast in her head when it craved flesh.
She peered through the doorway, breath catching in her throat as she saw the scene unfold. Heat, blood covered and yellow-eyed and devouring that monster. She smiled slightly because this had to be Heat, someone who devoured with such fervour and reckless abandon, so joyfully.
The scent of blood reached her and she licked her lips, eyes flashing golden for a second and she leaned further into the room.
no subject
Moments before, Heat had seen a reflection he couldn't accept as his own, heard a voice from a lungless chest trying to destroy what he'd become. Now, the tile floor was sticky with clotting blood as the creature's voice faded, weaker and weaker until only a thin, haunted but light whisper remained, almost as if it derived some sick satisfaction from the act of being consumed. Almost as if it believed that it was consuming something in return.
The mirabi, mutilated almost beyond its humanoid shape, was piled on the soaked floor, almost nothing but bone, bladelike teeth, and a few scraps of wet skin.
no subject
But the demon was still hungry, and she was like him. She would make a better meal than the creature he'd been devouring. Even as he growled out "Get back!" he was rising slowly to his feet, taking steps toward her that went directly against his own order.
He was in the middle of the room before he forced himself to stop. The man fell back to the floor, shaking, with one hand over his mouth. Suddenly he wanted to vomit more than anything, but his body wasn't willing to give up the long desired meal.
no subject
But then he fell to the floor, clutching his mouth and she wasn't foolish enough to approach him, but the dark expression softened into concern. "It's alright," she said softly. "It happens to us all. You'll get used to it."
no subject
It. Because admitting that the creature had anything resembling a human form was out of the question. The man couldn't stop shaking, and it was taking some real effort not to fall back to the mirabi he hadn't fully devoured or to pounce on the newly-arrived woman. It was dangerous, but he didn't want her to leave, either. She was one of the only couple people in the Institute who wouldn't be abhorred by what he'd done.
no subject
"It's normal for us," she continued. "Ever since the virus. Devouring is preferable to losing our minds completely and becoming nothing but mindless beasts."
no subject
Except that this felt so very real. It was a nightmare. He had to have been put on some sort of drugs or something. Maybe this woman here was responsible. She and that cult friend of hers had put something in his food and now he was hallucinating - seeing things he shouldn't. He didn't know what to think anymore.
"Get back!" he growled again, less force behind the words this time as he scooted away from her. That only put him closer to the mirabi again.