Night 46: M41-50 Hallway

[loyal-soldier.livejournal.com]

[from here]

622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.

He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.

Comments

[cmdr-exposition.livejournal.com]

He didn't have to wait long; Hayes had made sure he was ready to go even before the announcement, and since then had simply waited and wondered what the voice's apparent distress might mean for them. When he heard the knock, he was off to the door like a shot.

"Ah, TK," he said, smiling as he moved past the sergeant into the hallway. "It'll be good to finally get on this."

[numberii.livejournal.com]

((From here.)) (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/782206.html)

And there they were! Xigbar found himself grinning as he moved down the hall, glad to see that he was the last of the three. It meant that they could get moving relatively quickly, all things considered. More to the point, it also meant that there was the distinct possibility that he'd get two guys impressed with what he brought to the party, and that was always better than one.

"There you are! Glad to see you're in one piece, Tee-Kay." As the Nobody advanced, he lowered the assault rifle, gesturing broadly with his flashlight towards the two men. "We good to go?"

[loyal-soldier.livejournal.com]

"There, ah, will probably be someone--" There he was. Good. 622 pointed his glowrod towards Xigbar's voice, and tried not to stare like a slack-jawed idiot. When Xigbar had said 'gun', he hadn't expected it to be a proper gun.

The fact that he was shirtless and carrying a load of other weapons made it just that much harder for TK to keep from making himself look stupid.

M41

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy had gotten most of his personal logs finished when Mr. Hayes left.

He couldn't say much about the end result. He wasn't a writer by nature but even he could tell that they were getting more disjointed as they went on. The newer entries got noticeable shorter. Clipped in parts. Not exactly the best he'd ever written, and it wasn't going to be a candidate for exemplary record keeping, but he didn't have time to rewrite it. He was finding it hard to concentrate and it showed. It could be a number of things. Maybe it was because his mind drifted constantly back to the issue of medical supplies, Jim's appointment, Yeoman Clark's surgery that he'd left unfinished, his Enterprise and his captain. As far as he knew, he was alone out here. Even now he couldn't stop wondering where they were, even as he hastily finished the last line of the most recent log. What was going on back there? And how the devil was he supposed to get back? Somehow he got the feeling that asking nicely just wasn't going to do much good.

The doctor sat back and started rereading the logs, checking over for anything he'd missed. His eyes settled on the last entry. Something looked off about it, and McCoy stared at it. For the life of him, he couldn't pinpoint it.

Or maybe it was the slight headache that had been slowly brewing for the past half hour. It wasn't excruciating, not like a migraine. This was tolerable. McCoy found this more distracting than anything else, just enough of a slight throb every now and then that hurt enough to distract. Pressure right at his temple and the base of his skull.

...He'd mispelled Spock's name and left a word partially unfinished. Annoyed, McCoy crossed it out, adding the corrections nearby. It was a small error but it was damned sloppy. He'd have never made that mistake before. The rest looked all right.

Whatever it was, he wasn't going to be writing any award winning papers any time soon. A distracted doctor was the last thing anyone needed. He might not be performing surgery, but half the battle was also rooting out early warning signs. That required a keen eye and judgment. He really couldn't afford to have his head in the clouds. In the end, he couldn't say he was exactly glad to hear that Head Doctor's voice, in fact, he didn't have a damned clue what the man was rambling about. But it did give him something else to focus on.

Re: M41

[doneinthree]

[From here]

One of the men conversing in the hallway turned out to be Hayes from last night. Kirk considered throwing a greeting his way before the sight of the firearm exchanging hands drew him up short. By now, one would think that nothing would surprise him about their nonsensical prison. His mother had kept an antique shotgun back home, but he hadn't seen anything like that since the heaters in "A Piece Of The Action."

Kirk winced. Where the hell had that thought...? Actually, he decided he didn't care. There were more important things he had to worry about right now, like surviving his doctor's ungentle care, and when he got that done, the rest of the night.

Sparing only an awkward nod for three well-armed men as he passed, Kirk soon found himself standing outside M41. Finally. He rapped on the door with two knuckles, and called out: "Bones."

Re: M41

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy rose and opened the door. He couldn't say he wasn't startled by Jim's prompt appearance. He'd never seen his captain ever show up early for an appointment. On schedule yes, but early? Not that it was all just reluctance on Jim's part: things had a way of going straight to hell on this ship and if it wasn't one emergency, it was another.

"Take a seat, Jim," McCoy said. He gestured absently towards his half of the room. "Shirt off."

Even as he said that, he surveyed what he had available laid out on the desk. A notebook. A bunch of ink pens. The heavy flashlight. A ring for keys. A primitive radio. The doctor glowered down at them. He could just imagine Jim's, his captain's, reaction. ("I thought you'd always wanted to get down to basics, Bones. Well, there you have it!"). McCoy rolled his eyes. He picked up the notebook and flipped it open.

The amount he'd be able to do without any equipment and on the spot was limited. He supposed it served him right. McCoy had complained, groused and complained some more about the equipment advancing faster than they were. At the rate technology was progressing, who knew when someone got the fool idea to try and replace doctors with the equipment? He'd heard the arguments before. You'd reduce the chance of human error, machinery and computers could operate more efficiently, they could go without rest. A machine wouldn't make hasty or bold judgments. Nor would there be the risk that one would be affected by emotional calls either. It was more convenient.

McCoy thought that was exactly the problem, taking the humanity right out of the practice. There was a lot be said about the human factor: compassion, intuition, flexibility, emotions.

He probably should be thankful. It looked like they were still a ways off before that ever happened. But that didn't mean that, at times, McCoy set his heels down and dragged them in the sand. Progress was something he'd never stand in the way of. Advances in medicine and tools could only mean more patients saved.

But then you had progress for sake of progress, and he could honestly say that not everything that he'd come across had been an improvement. The doctor had never subscribed to that mindset that bigger and flashier was better. He'd seen the result time and again: you had tools becoming more and more needlessly complex (to the point they was useless) than the job required. Overkill, like trying to to shoot a can with a shotgun. He preferred something that actually worked.

'Course, when he said he preferred a simpler approach, this wasn't what he meant either.

Outside M45

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

[[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/781393.html?thread=63943505#t63943505)]]

A few more people started to stir by the time she reached the room Toshiro had mentioned to her. She hoped it was the right one. She knocked a couple of times on the door, watching the halls nervously as she waited for someone to answer.

Re: Outside M45

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

When no one replied, Kagura pushed the door open, only to find it empty. Strange. She left the pillowcase near the door though and closed it behind her. Toshiro probably had things to do, but hopefully he'd be able to get the supplies.

[[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/781935.html?thread=63992175#t63992175)]]

Re: Outside M45

[itstaichoutoyou.livejournal.com]

As the night went on, more and more people were filling the halls. Hitsugaya kept himself wary of the strangers as he approached M45. When he got there, he noticed the bag and opened it up to find the medical supplies Kagura had promised. He'd have to thank her in the morning.

Moving onto his next objective, Hitsugaya took out a folded copy of his map and left it on the desk. Before he left, he wrote "for Setsuna" on the back of the folded copy.

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

Kibitoshin was feeling exceptionally well-prepared tonight. He had his maps in his pocket and his flashlight ready to go, with the batteries checked and everything. He'd even started his usually pep talk routine early: the don't be a coward!s followed by the you're a god, for goodness' sake!s and the okay, just look around for five minutess, anything to get him out the door. Yep. It was fair to say that, like it or not, he was ready to run tonight.

Trouble was, he didn't really have anywhere to run to.

Sechs had offered him a place, but he hadn't wanted to hold him back, and he'd offered to heal a few people up, but he needed to get ready for that, and, well... now he was at a loss. He was all dressed up with nowhere to go, a rebel without a cause. Or something. But he couldn't back out now. If he caved and hid in his room again, what would he be proving? And after sleeping for all of last night... his conscience was just too loud to let him stay. Someone could be hurt out there, and if he were to leave them and find out in the morning, the chances were he'd probably never sleep again full stop.

Oh well. There was nothing for it. He sighed, said his prayers and then off he went, into the darkness...

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

M47

[byname-bynature.livejournal.com]

Artemis looked up as the intercom sounded, taking his usual notes. It wasn't a particularly enlightening message, but the Head Doctor did sound somewhat despairing over something. What, though?

He turned to Haku. "I was going to go assess Schuldig's condition tonight. Something happened as a result of the lightning and his telepathy has been affected somehow. It's only down the hall, if you wanted to rest..."

Perhaps Schuldig would want to express his thanks to Haku for saving his life, though Artemis wasn't going to hold his breath. If Schuldig was upset over his sudden disability, he wouldn't be in the mood to thank anybody for anything.

Re: M47

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

Haku thought for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Alright. If it's just down the hall..." He straightened up in bed and swung his legs over, not showing just how sore the muscles felt nor how the new stitches pulled at healing skin. How funny that he'd been so proud of his skin before and now it was scared and marked.

"I think I could do with a walk." He smiled at Artemis and stood, slipping his weapons into the hidden spots of his clothing and braid.

[dualistic]

Luckily for Harvey, his roommate had come in and then promptly gone to sleep without even saying a word. It hadn't been all that surprising considering the man's attitude up until now, and it had meant that Harvey's dinner had been even more quiet than usual. Admittedly, it got boring after a while, but Harvey knew that he needed that bit of time to himself when he was forced to interact for the entirety of the day.

Meeting Jason each night had become something of a routine, and Harvey wondered if that was good or bad. Getting things done with the kid was way better than wandering around aimlessly and just waiting to get ambushed by a monster, but he wasn't sure how buddy-buddy he wanted to get with him. Their interests seemed to match up for the moment, but what happened when that changed?

Still, he didn't have many other options, and so Harvey found himself grabbing for his flashlight and his lead pipe and heading out like always. At least their meeting point wasn't too far away this time.

[dualistic]

[To here.]

[poolcuemurder.livejournal.com]

Dinner went by just about as silently as expected, which was disappointing in a way. He needed to branch out and find people he could work with, people who would help. How could he even find if Yohji were the sort to be of any assistance to his plans if he wouldn't even speak to the man?

But the doors were open now and Venom wasn't going to waste his time this night like he had the last (the fact that the night even ended that way boiled his blood more easily than it should have. How could he complain about anyone else not making progress if he himself couldn't even make it to the second floor without being victim to this place). First he needed to speak with Edward, hopefully keeping the discussion brief, then he'd return upstairs again for any sort of computer terminals or a file room or something. There had to be something he could find.

...Sigh. He couldn't keep working alone like this, not when he was at such a disadvantage. As much as it would do wonders for his pride to be able to solve these mysteries alone, he couldn't. It didn't work that way. Starting tomorrow, these blind runs would end. But for now, he'd do what he could.

After changing back into his suit, emptying the pillow from its case (it would do), and reclaiming the wooden hanger bar (he'd have to find something sturdier than this as well. Maybe not tonight, but this wouldn't last forever), the assassin made his way into the hallway.

[This way (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/781144.html?thread=64043096#t64043096)]

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

They'd taken him. The slaggers had actually taken him.

Depth Charge wasn't quite sure what he'd expected from them when it came to the Institute's nightly torture sessions- sound, fury and a whole lot of psychotic scrap, probably, the whole cliched shebang. The fact that it had been such a smooth operation both surprised and revolted him. The fact that he hadn't even realised what was going on downright terrified him.

How could he have let them just... walk out the door with his own roommate? Was he crazy? Was he smelting stupid? Primus, he'd watched the enemy invade his turf and take out one of his soldiers, and what was he doing now? Sitting at his desk in the dark and wondering. Wondering just how far he'd managed to fall in such a short space of time.

Where the Pit was his common sense?! Depth Charge felt his fists tighten. He should've seen the warning signs when the nurse had appeared at the door, but no, he'd... he'd...

No. He had to focus. Somewhere, upstairs, the Scarecrow was being held captive, and with him was some sadistic son-of-a-gear that needed to be taught a lesson. The crowbar under his mattress suddenly looked like the height of technological sophistication. A nanoklik later and it was in his hand and the door flung wide open. Tonight, it was war.

M44

[full-score.livejournal.com]

Claude wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but it sounded like the Head Doctor wasn't having the best of days. Normally he would have been happy to hear him actually sound rattled, but these days even just thinking about him made Claude furious about what happened in the basement all over again. But now that nightshift had started there was no time to waste with his quiet fuming.

He couldn't allow himself to think over today's events, either. But maybe that was for the best. It was better to keep himself busy than to dwell too much over his unsettling conversation with Dias.

After getting dressed, Claude grabbed his sword and headed out into the hall. He felt guilty leaving his roommate on his own, but he seemed like someone who knew how to take care of himself at least. Right now Claude had to escort Guy to Luke's room and then figure out the best way to go about meeting with Ashton.

((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/783926.html?thread=64113206#t64113206).))

M48.

[purgatio]

There was silence. There was stillness, the kind that comes from being crouched on a bed with your knees under your chin. The boy's arms were wrapped tight around his legs, eyes wide and empty. His mind had considered blankness, remembered and forgot the movements of the shift called lunch, and passed--instead, shifted. Analyzed the data and filtered it through his consciousness. The likelihoods and probabilities were weighed; the words that had been considered truth were kept.

All in all, Kaworu had done severe harm and help both. Albedo had been able to gain his own mind, though he hadn't truly doubted that. The fact remained of what there was to regain, however....

The solitary fact allowed was this: Rubedo was not to be trusted. Rubedo, or whatever he was calling himself, was another person, or maybe the actual truth was that Rubedo was simply being the person he had been all along. Could Albedo refute that? Didn't his twin's sweet actions at the Conflict point to that line of logic? Had it been all along, that Rubedo was simply this: one who lied and hid, ran and raged. Had Albedo expected more?

Yes. Because Rubedo was his brother. His other heart.

Albedo's eyes squinted shut, the boy buried his face in his legs and arms. A need rose, habitual and fierce, and he extended his waveform, testing, feeling. A broken link, cracked and distorted as it had been when he tested it days ago. A heartbeat, solid and sound. He swallowed, wondering. He had assumed the break was him, was it instead, Rubedo's lapse of time? His hands fisted in his pants and his waveform retreated, pulling inward as it--

--Brushed against misery, a sensation becoming familiar. Close by. And in this?

Nothing moved in the moment, Albedo didn't breathe. Then he carefully got up and walked towards the door.

[to here]

M48.

[purgatio]

[from here]

There was a step of hesitance at the doorway, then it passed. Albedo slid into the room, pulling Nigredo along. The hand was dropped as soon as feet passed the threshold--Albedo stepped away, something awkward in the motion. Something frantic slid into his movements, an agitated shifting. The boy moved to shut the door, then, stared at it with a frown. There was no way to lock it. And why, would it need to be locked? What, above and below, would threaten his existence that he would feel a need to keep it out?

An ever-present heartbeat, perhaps?

Here, the boy's eyes widened, staring. His hand remained against the door. There was something ticking. He wasn't sure if it was aloud. An empty hollowness had rose to overtake the dull apathy he had previously held. In it, two hearts beat. Out of step, and one behind. There was a sharp gasp, a moment, and then Albedo started laughing uncontrollably. Under the corruption, it could be confused with the sound of mourning.

[screwthegods]

Dinner ended, and though the Head Doctor might have wished for his words to strike terror, in Homura's mind they simply fell in line with the routine. Though broken ribs made it more difficult to change his attire, he managed. And as he noted with a smirk, the glitter managed to fall on his shoulders almost immediately; it seemed there would be no relief from Okita's gift.

Regardless, it wouldn't hamper his ability to fight, and Homura had never been the type to lurk in the shadows. Once he was ready, the demi-god set out. First was Hanatarou's room, and then Adelheid's, one hall over. Homura moved quickly regardless of his injury, wanting to make significant progress this night.

[To here]

Outside M43

[byname-bynature.livejournal.com]

(From here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/782634.html?thread=63998762#t64427562))

Unsurprisingly, the four-door-down trip hadn't given Artemis time to stop feeling incredibly uneasy and apprehensive concerning talking to Schuldig about the aftermath of last night. He'd thought this would be the simple part, but with the affect on Schuldig's telepathy, it had suddenly become a natural disaster. He was probably a Category 5 tropical storm, by now.

He stretched out a hand and knocked on Schuldig's door.

Re: Outside M43

[faithful-frost.livejournal.com]

Haku stepped up behind Artemis, keeping an eye on the surroundings for any signs of trouble. He reached up and lightly placed his fingers on the other boy's shoulder, wanting to reassure him that he wasn't walking into the demon's den alone.

Besides, Haku had a feeling it wasn't going to be as horrible as Artemis was imagining.

M41

[doneinthree]

[From here]

Of course, this tiny room didn't actually allow for much movement, but Kirk walked to the low dresser anyway, as far as they could get from the door where Chekov and McCoy were clustered. That and speaking quietly was the best he could manage for privacy.

Kirk crossed his arms as he regarded the Vulcan commander. "Alright, Spock, talk to me." His eyebrows furrowed. "Or... do. You said 'do.' What are we doing again?"

Re: M41

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Spock followed after Kirk, briefly glancing toward Mr. Chekov and Dr. McCoy as he did so. The distance between them wasn't nearly as far as he would have preferred, but, given their circumstances, he knew there was no other choice available to them. Not unless he wanted to postpone their discussion, at any rate, but Spock had already decided that it was best to propose a meld now, rather than later. Even then, however, he acknowledged that whether they went through with it or not was ultimately Kirk's decision.

"Given the severity of your condition yesterday, as well as the lack of medical equipment at our disposal, I wish to request permission to perform what is known among Vulcans as a mind meld," he explained in a low, calm voice. As he spoke, he briefly averted his gaze. What he was suggesting was rather unusual, particularly considering it was not a ritual that was regarded lightly. It was an intensely private matter, first of all. Not only that, but there were occasional risks posed by cross-species contact, even if Vulcans and Humans were not necessarily incompatible in that regard. Regardless of such issues, however, it was also true that their circumstances were far from ordinary, and, when all was said and done, the captain's state of mind was one of their highest priorities.

"By granting me access to your mind, Captain, I should be able to ascertain the extent of what transpired yesterday, as well as repair any remaining damage, if any indeed exists," Spock added as he clasped his hands behind his back. "As I have received formal training in this technique, I can assure you that the procedure will be relatively quick and completely painless."

While the subject was certainly far more complex than that, those were the most important facts for someone who was unfamiliar with melds to understand, particularly if they were of a race of beings who possessed little to no telepathic abilities. Spock carefully studied Kirk as he attempted to gauge his reaction.