damned_institute | Nightshift 45: Women's Bathrooms (F1-F40)

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Nightshift 45: Women's Bathrooms (F1-F40)

[From here.]

While a part of him was mortified that he'd even think about stepping foot into the girl's bathroom, Stephen knew that anything was better than just vomiting all over the hallway. He didn't bother (or more like he didn't have the time) to check if anyone else was occupying the space, rushing to the sink and ducking his head down just in time.

And that was how he remained for the next few minutes. He'd long since dropped his flashlight, the object having clattered to the floor several feet away from him. The teen weakly held himself up as he emptied the contents in his stomach, all the while trying not to breathe through his nose and triggering another series of heaves and coughs.

Eventually the heaves became far and few until they were completely gone, though Stephen didn't feel any better than before. He took the time to catch his breath, reaching over to turn on the faucet and grimacing as the discolored water washed his dinner away.

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((From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/757073.html?thread=62091857#t62091857).))

Claude was careful not to make a sound as he stepped into the tiled room. On the floor was Sync's flashlight, positioned in such a way that it was almost as if he'd dropped it. Eyebrows furrowing, he crouched down and gently set his own flashlight near the door. Sync's back was facing him, and in the dim light he could see his form leaning over the sink as though he were ill. Part of Claude briefly considered whether launching an attack from behind like this was unfair, but that thought was dispelled as soon as he remembered the blood-chilling moment Sync had twisted Guy's neck and killed him.

All's fair in love and war. That grim saying came to mind, and yet it didn't entirely ring true for him. Claude had always believed there were certain lines that shouldn't be crossed during conflicts. But Sync had crossed them long ago, again and again without a single shred of remorse. Now he needed to pay the consequences for what he'd done so he'd never hurt another person again.

Barely breathing in order to reduce his noise level, Claude confidently adjusted his grip on his sword as he decided the best way to strike. Then, within a split second, he leaped up from the floor and darted toward the boy. With one, smooth arc through the air, Claude brought his sword down across Sync's back. His attack was executed in such a way that, if it connected, the wound wouldn't be lethal, but still severe enough to make further movements painful.

While the water looked awful, he wasn't sure he could handle the smell of vomit on him. The boy reached out and took a palm full of water, shutting his mouth tight before washing off his face. With the faucet running he couldn't hear anything else in the room, and so when something lunged out from behind him...!

Stephen gave an ear-piercing shriek as something sharp slid right down his back, instantly crumpling to the floor as he was overcome with pain. Something warm and sticky had already begun to seep out of the wound, the teen too shocked to even comprehend what was going on at first. And yet the sharp aches brought the teen back from his numbed state, green eyes frantically darting around. However, it wasn't until rolled around, body weakly propped up with his hands, that he finally caught sight of his assailant nearby.

Blond hair...

"C-Claude...!" He choked out. Despite the unbearable pain, Stephen began to scramble back, eyes wide with fear.

Claude was surprised when his attack connected, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It made sense that Sync wasn't invincible -- he'd been able to get him with a similar attack last night, after all. Sync had only possessed the key element of surprise during their first fight. Now Claude was going to make sure he held the advantage.

"That was for the time you pretended to be Ion!" Claude snarled at Sync as he collapsed onto the floor. Even in the dim lighting, the boy's terrified expression was hard to miss. It looked strange on his face, and yet seeing him so taken aback only served to fuel Claude's desire to put an end to this once and for all. Obviously, he'd managed to catch Sync off guard. There was no way he was about to give him the chance to get back onto his feet.

The anger Claude had been keeping bottled up all day began to boil over, burning like coal in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to make Sync regret everything he'd done by the time he was through with him. "And this is for hurting Anise!" With those words, Claude didn't hesitate in delivering a hard kick across Sync's face.

Edited 2009-11-23 22:57 (UTC)

Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream. Those words were repeated in his mind, and yet his wounds told him otherwise, searing into his back while blood began to drip onto the tile floor. When his palm slid across the small puddle Stephen lost his balance, falling into his arm and effectively putting a halt to his retreat.

Green eyes wavered over to the door when it suddenly opened, albeit quietly, catching the silhouette that peaked through the crack.

Stephen wanted to cry for help, and yet his entire throat was paralyzed, denying him the right to speak. The teen was helpless, completely at the mercy of Claude whom made it quite clear what his intentions were. So when the door closed, leaving him alone once more, the teen's heart sank below his stomach. However, he didn't have the time to react when he felt something connect hardly to the side of his face, forcing his body to twist before his head collided with the floor.

Anise...

The attack had forced him to bite down on his own tongue, a coppery taste soon filling his mouth as he lay there on his stomach, momentarily dazed. However, he forced himself to slide his arms forward, making some futile attempt to try and crawl away.

By now the conflict was practically one-sided, but that gave Claude all the more reason not to let up. He was certain Sync would strike back the first moment he got, which made it even more important to disable him while he still had the chance. For a split second he considered just stabbing his blade into his back again -- it would have been an easy kill, and then no one would have to hear from Sync again.

But Claude had learned not to underestimate him; luring his opponent into thinking he had a quick way to end this before suddenly rolling out of the way and launching a counterattack seemed right up Sync's alley. That was why the blond didn't hesitate in his next move.

"And this for Guy!" His yell echoed off of the bathroom tiles as he slammed his foot into Sync's right shoulder with every ounce of strength he had. But the fighter in him knew that it wouldn't be enough, and he brutally hit him in the same spot, again and again. The Federation issue shoes gave his foot more weight than if he'd been wearing his slippers. Claude hoped that made the onslaught even more painful.

The shriek Stephen let out was just as agonizing as the last, the force of Claude's attack rippling out from his shoulder and throughout his entire body. It was unsurprising that he could barely move, not with those relentless attacks pouring over him. In the end Stephen shifted his head to the side, face wet when he started sobbing from the pain.

"AHHH!"

With the sheer force the blond was exerting, it wasn't long before his bones finally began to give away. The skin beneath Claude's boot was flaring, and the slice across his back had stretched open, but all of that was forgotten when Stephen suddenly felt something crack before white hot pain struck his chest.

Stephen violently coughed, the blood that had been pooling in his mouth splattering against the tile floor. It became increasingly difficult to breathe between his choked cries, desperately gasping for air despite all the agony.

Sync's cries were disgusting to listen to, not only because Claude didn't care for having to hear them in the first place, but also because it was incredible to think that Sync had dished out so much worse in the past, and yet he wasn't able to take this kind of abuse now. The bones were starting to grind beneath Claude's foot, which only fueled his attacks even further. He didn't dare let up, in case maybe all of this was some kind of sick charade, in case Sync tried to knock his sword out of his sweaty grasp at the last moment. Claude had to make sure Sync was disabled before he delivered the final blow.

As much as he wanted to go ahead and get this over with, he needed to be thorough.

There was no way he'd be able to make Sync suffer as much as he'd made everyone else suffer. Even so, the poetic justice behind him breaking Sync's shoulder after what he'd done to Guy didn't escape him. Upon realizing that, Claude's eyebrows furrowed, and he delivered a particularly brutal stomp onto Sync's cracking shoulder. "You bastard," he ground out through his teeth.

Stephen could no longer see clearly, vision blurred completely by hot tears. Never before had he ever experienced pain like this, and had he been in the right state of mind he would've found it strange that his body had yet to go into shock. The entire back of his shirt was soaked red, but it felt like nothing more than a minor wound compared to the stress his bones were forced to endure.

Finally, finally another sickening crack resonated within his body, this time right where Claude had repeatedly stomped on his shoulder. Stephen seized up as he let out another shriek, the cry cutting off abruptly by another series of coughs. He nearly passed out then, and yet his body refused to give him release.

But it hurt so much...

Edited 2009-11-26 06:20 (UTC)

Feeling the bones gave out beneath his shoe was a surreal experience that made his stomach turn. But all Claude had to do was think of all the horrible things Sync had done to less deserving people in order to strengthen his resolve. That was right -- if Sync had gotten his way, he probably would have seen a lot more people die last night. Not only that, but he knew Sync hadn't felt a trace of guilt for breaking Guy's arm, much less his neck.

This had to be done, he kept telling himself.

Grimly satisfied that he'd caused enough damage, Claude none too softly kicked at the boy in order to push him onto his back. He could only hope he wouldn't make much more noise, or else he'd wind up attracting some kind of monster. All the more reason for him to end this as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, Claude abruptly brought his foot onto Sync's belly in order to pin him into place. At the same moment, he held his blood-stained sword against his enemy's pale neck. This kind of death was going to be much quicker than Sync deserved, Claude darkly realized, but the fact of the matter was that he didn't have the time or energy to drag this out any longer than he needed to.

When he finally spoke, there was no satisfaction in his voice, nor did he sound all that victorious. Claude knew he was going to walk away from this with more losses than Sync had ever endured. "It ends now, Sync." The words were like ash in his mouth.

The pain was so numbing and exhausting that Stephen just didn't have the energy to cry out when Claude kicked him onto his back. Blood had dribbled from his mouth down to his chin and one side of his face, having been smeared around by the tile floor. His entire face was flushed, with one side swelling from the earlier kick. It didn't help at all that he was still crying, quiet sobs overtaking his body and making it harder to breathe. There was a constant stabbing sensation whenever he took a breath, but it was something beyond his control.

A small whimper escaped his throat when he felt Claude's boot press into his stomach, the point of his blade following soon after. Stephen tilted his head to the side, trying in vain to hide his neck away.

"Please... don't kill... me..."

The cold chill of reality had settled in by the first strike, his worst nightmares coming true one by one. Claude was going to kill him, and Stephen was so scared. There was so much he hadn't done; was he too damned to repent?

"Please C-Claude... please... I..."

The teen was shaking, every other exhale of breath coming out as either a whimper or a choked sob. Yet it was useless in the end, and so Stephen finally closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering on his brother.

"Charles... Charles I'm... sorry..."

It wasn't until Claude got a closer look at the boy that he realized that he was actually crying. Before, he might have assumed they were just crocodile tears shed in order to manipulate him further, but there was a sincere quality to his sobbing that made his blood freeze in his veins. This was something he would have expected under the nurses' watchful eyes. Now the only witnesses were the mirrors on the walls, and the blood-stained tiles beneath his feet.

Doubt began to shroud his unwavering resolve from just moments before, but it was difficult to truly comprehend what that doubt meant. Things had seemed so simple up until now -- avenge his fallen friends, kill Sync, go clean up the messes he'd left for them in the morgue: that was all he'd intended to do the moment he stepped into this bathroom.

But Claude's sword didn't deliver the killing blow. Instead, it hovered uncertainly against Sync's vulnerable skin. His palms were beginning to grow sweatier, but he managed to maintain a steady grip on the weapon as he kept his foot firmly planted onto the boy's belly.

"Who the hell is Charles?" he suddenly asked, voice tighter than he wanted to admit right then. "Why are you crying like that?!" Was he trying to make Claude's task that much more difficult just to mess with him? No, he wasn't sure...

The seconds seemed to drag on for eternity as Stephen waited for the final blow. There were so many regrets in his life that he'd given up counting, and yet each one replayed in his head as if they only happened yesterday. There was no amount of satisfaction for his death, no sense of completion for all the things he'd promised to do. But in the end Stephen knew that he deserved this; after all, a heartless person deserved nothing more than a heartless death.

However, green eyes snapped open when Claude suddenly broke through the heavy air, trying to concentrate through all the pain and sorrow when the latter demanded answers.

"C-Charles..." Stephen began quietly, words momentarily cut off by a small hiccup. "He's... he's my brother..."

Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts linger on his twin. Despite everything he'd accused as 'Sync', those had been nothing more than fabrications, an excuse to put the blame on someone other than himself. Stephen had lived a long time hating his brother for nothing, but in the end it didn't last. In fact, it only made him miss the latter even more, and he would’ve given anything in the world to see him one more time.

"He's nothing... like me. He w-wouldn't... have created a monster like... Sync..." It was enough to make him smile. Charles was always the nice one, and he was better in so many ways. It was because he knew when to accept something and move on, while he allowed himself to drown in the past.

"I never got a... c-chance to apologize for... everything I've d-done..."

Brother? But Sync didn't have any brothers, as far as he knew. He and Ion looked alike, sure, but he knew for a fact they weren't family.

But then Sync kept talking.

...wouldn't have created a monster like Sync...

Those words struck Claude like a punch in the gut. Suddenly, the niggling doubt in the back of his mind had warped into alarm bells. Everything tumbled into place. Today's innocent act, the crying, the inability to fight back...Claude had heard about the influx of brainwashings today, the Head Doctor himself had even alluded to it over the intercom. But it hadn't even occurred to him that Sync had fallen victim to the Institute's whims, now of all times.

And if Sync had been brainwashed, then that meant that the person lying in front of him, sobbing in his own blood, probably had very little idea of the true crimes he'd committed. They were all fabrications in his own deranged mind, as far as he was concerned, and the life and circumstances the Institute had given him were his own now. For a moment, rage flared in the pit of Claude's stomach at the thought that Sync could even dare to leave what he'd done behind. But then the full implications behind the fact that this boy honestly didn't believe he was Sync hit him like a tidal wave, and he grew increasingly sick to his stomach.

Horrified by the true spectacle before him, Claude stumbled back and brought his sword away from the boy's neck. Part of him wanted to bolt, to leave all of this behind. Anise and Celes were probably waiting for him. He couldn't afford to stick around anymore, he frantically told himself.

Bile rose in the back of his throat. Swallowing hard, Claude briefly closed his eyes in an attempt to steady himself.

He never should have come here.

"Can you stand?" he managed at length.

Edited 2009-11-29 04:11 (UTC)

In a way, Stephen wouldn't have been surprised if Claude had just wanted to prolong the inevitable, but he tried to answer as truthfully as he could. Even now he'd been praying that the latter would reconsider; it was the only way to let him fully repent for everything Sync had done. That monster was his responsibility, and even though his death would also mean the death of him, there just had to be some other way to fix it...

But it seemed as if his prayers had come true, as the teen heard Claude stumble back before he slowly opened his eyes. For a moment the pain was overcome with surprise: was he really getting a second chance? Of course, Stephen whimpered when Claude asked if he could stand, but he didn't want to risk everything.

And so, after a moment's hesitation, he began the painstaking process. Almost immediately the pain returned tenfold, causing Stephen to cry from all the agony. Any normal person would've collapsed back onto the floor, but the teen was determined as ever to grasp this chance. It was probably the only one he'd ever be granted.

The process itself was brutal, and the minutes seemed to drag on for hours, but Stephen eventually pulled himself to his feet after much labor. His left hand was propped heavily against the counter, and while his legs threatened to buckle, sheer willpower was enough to keep him standing. It was almost as if Sync's sheer stubbornness was pushing him on. Stephen's head was kept down, however, with green eyes staring into the sink under the running faucet.

"... I'm sorry."

Watching the boy painfully pull himself up to a stand made Claude's stomach give a sickening turn, but he didn't dare help him. He was fairly certain that Sync had been brainwashed, but as long as there was even the smallest trace of a doubt in the back of his mind, he couldn't let his guard down. Not after everything he'd done. Actually, Claude was braced for the possibility that this was all some big ruse, that Sync was going to ask for a hand any moment now in order to try to gain the advantage.

But he didn't.

Instead, Claude was met with an apology, of all things. He hesitated. "I-I..." Should he say sorry for pummeling someone for something they probably thought had been a hallucination? But in the end, he realized that any apologies between them were only words, empty and without any real meaning. However much this boy said he was sorry, it wouldn't bring Guy back. And no matter how much Claude said he was sorry, it wouldn't change the beating he'd just given. Much less bring Dias back.

"You should hide in one of the patient rooms for the rest of the night," Claude quietly told him after a moment. "Nothing will come for you there. If you're lucky, the staff will let you out of this place tomorrow." And then Claude would never have to lay eyes on that horrible face ever again.

With that said, he forced himself to back away, inch by inch. It was difficult to tear his eyes from the bloody wound on the boy's back. Once he reached the bathroom's exit, however, he took a sharp breath, snatched his flashlight from the floor, and fled into the hallway.

((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/757073.html?thread=62479185#t62479185).))

Stephen didn't speak when Claude explained to him to go into one of the patient rooms, only half listening to what the latter was saying. He didn't know what to do at this point, but it seemed as if none of that mattered once he heard those footsteps backing away. It was only until the door shut did he glance back up, a wave of nausea hitting him and forcing him to lean over. However, with Stephen's stomach already empty, they were nothing more than dry heaves at this point.

This encounter had hurt him in more ways than one, stripping him of nearly every physical and mental wall he'd propped up. All he wanted to do now was to fall back onto the floor and rest, but even he still had a shred of dignity left. He knew he had to leave here as soon as possible before someone else stumbled in, which was why he carefully began to make his way towards the door.

Any effort put towards grabbing his flashlight were all in vain, knowing well enough that, once he fell, he wouldn't be able to get back up. Every part of Stephen's body ached, and the sight of his own blood smeared against the tile floor was nauseating. He hadn't bothered to look at himself in the mirror, as the sight probably would've been too much to handle.

Chewing at his bottom lip, Stephen took small steps towards the door, pressing his weight up against it before exiting out of the bathroom.

[To here.]

Edited 2009-12-01 03:59 (UTC)

Asuka was a bit apprehensive now that she saw the door was ajar.

Well! Maybe this was just the way all the patients go to leave this wing. It didn't fill her with as much hope as she liked, but she couldn't ran away now. This place was probably large and winding, and as a good leader, one must know and memorize where everything was. This was just step one, she told herself.

What do you think is going to happen? These people are just crazies.

But the pep-talk was quickly forgotten when she heard a man scream. Blood rushing past her ears, she nudged the door open softly, keeping her light behind her, and looked inside. It was too dark to make anything out beside two bodies, the one still standing was holding something long, possibly a weapon.

My God...

Snapping her mouth shut without a sound, she slowly backed up and decided it was probably best to just keep heading right. This was getting kind of weird.

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Nightshift 45: Women's Bathrooms (F1-F40)

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