damned_institute | NIGHTSHIFT 46: MAIN HALLWAY, 2-CENTER

Utena almost stopped where they were at that question. There was a twitch of hesitation in her steps. The only thing that kept her moving was the knowledge that it was very likely they might run into something nasty in this part of the institute. She had been attacked here once, and slipped past a very disturbing creature one time before that. It made sense; this place was like a crossroads. And crossroads, at least in fairy tales, often had terrible guards blocking the path of travelers.

"Something . . . to deserve that?" Utena repeated slowly, consideration but also disbelief in her tone as they hurried in silence down the hall.

[To here]

[from here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/785428.html?thread=64310804#t64310804)

"And that would be the destruction of this place," Teresa finished with as she took in the balconies leading to the Sun Room below. Another fight with loud sharp noises that sounded like canons off in the distance. Yet she knew they were not far away. How odd.

"The only difference is that our means of getting to that goal are far more brutal and efficient than the average human can handle, sheep that they are."

It was Mello's turn to laugh. "Do you think anyone's up-front about their goals, with everyone and their brother, and the staff, reading over their shoulders?" he asked Giovanni dryly. He'd quickly concluded that the bulletin board was useful for arranging meetings, and sharing only the most innocuous, or innocuous-seeming, information, and that any truly productive discussions would have to be face-to-face. He assumed any other 'patient' worth bothering with would have reached the same state of justifiable paranoia regarding it.

Were those gunshots in the distance? Mello was going to be so pissed if they were, but he still sounded amused when he addressed Teresa. "You're going to need a few steps between 'arm everyone' and 'bring Landel's down.' Those are what I'm asking about." While he appreciated her attitude, she hadn't yet said anything to change his impression that the History Club was mostly about talking big.

Hearing both of them talk, Giovanni gave a short huff of irritation, but his expression of annoyance was cut short by the sound of something, though he couldn't quite discern what. Whatever it was, the source of the sound wasn't directly interfering with them, so he turned his attention back to what Mello was saying.

"Simply 'bringing Landel's down' will do nothing except leave us stranded in a different type of environment. From what I've heard, most of us are from separate worlds, and all of us with any kind of superhuman abilities have been stripped of our power. If we destroy the institution and the people who govern it, we may never have a chance to regain our former lives."

Had Teresa been one to roll her eyes, she would have at both men's naivete. Humans.

Morgan was under the assumption that she cared to read between the lines of his question and instinctively know he wanted every single detail of the History Club's plans. Though she didn't care, she had certainly read into the question; she simply decided that if he assumed they would tell him every little detail that lead to the eventual goal, he was certainly a fool.

Giovanni, on the other hand, was looking at the field from point to point instead of as an overlaying scape that showed the points already set in place before reaching the final destination. As much as he had been paying attention, he seemed to either not have heard of those that had died in their previous world. Or he didn't believe it.

"Do either of you actually believe we are capable of destroying this place as we are now? The means to return the specialized abilities of those that have been stripped of them exists within this place; that is a proven fact," Teresa stated. "Recovering those is a single point along the path to our goal, as are many others."

She glanced back. "Such as finding the means to return those that wish to their previous lives. Not all of us have that luxury, nor do we all wish to return. What we do wish is to unleash our wrath properly upon the ones who deserve it for our imprisonment. If you are under the impression that we are stupid and short-sighted, go huddle in your room at night along with that naysayer from the board. Someone might care enough to let you know when we've secured the thing that causes the transportation."

Way ahead of you, Mello thought as Giovanni spoke. Then Teresa managed to surprise him.

"Of course not," he said in reply to her question. That was the point he'd been aiming to make, having assumed that they assumed force would suffice. It was almost never only about force; it was about knowing where to apply it. He had some ideas of his own about that, but he didn't see any reason to share them. Still, he had to admit it would be more practical to work with the History Club than to make enemies of them. They did want exactly the same thing he did, and if he found he needed power within the organization, he was confident he could gain it. "But I'm sure you've both observed that most people here wouldn't plan much past 'beat the shit out of things and hope for the best.' If they even got that far."

As his two traveling companions spoke, Giovanni let his mind wander. He thought first about returning home, and then he silently laughed at himself for proving right that age-old saying - 'you never know what you've got 'til it's gone.' He'd do anything, everything, to return to Einstellsehn and the underground; the problem was that he could do nothing. Nothing except follow people who he hoped knew more than he did.

His frustration grew, and soon he found himself clenching his fists at his sides. Instead of twisting his face into that familiar smile, he frowned, and before he could take time to chew his words, he spoke.

"There are hundreds of 'patients' here, and a good number of them have abilities that are useful in some way, whether physically or mentally. You're telling me that nobody has been able to learn more than what has already been established, or that none of the institute's leaders have ever been located in person? For such a strong group of people, I'm surprised at how little is being done - or perhaps I'm underestimating my peers."

"That is one of the main reasons I do not bother with the other groups," Teresa replied to Morgan. "They are little more than children playing with swords, only too willing to blame someone other than themselves when they cut their own foot off."

'Hundreds of patients' seemed to be an exaggeration in Teresa's opinion, especially considering how many of them seemed worthless, like newborn babes that had no knowledge of what it was to bleed for something. "From what I have gathered, Giovanni, the length of stay here before one 'disappears' is not particularly long. Anytime an army has to recruit to replace unexpected veteran losses slows advancement. Consider this more a grueling campaign as opposed to a quick skirmish." Endurance and persistence may prove more valuable to their predicament than anything else.

"As for whether anyone has found or seen Landel of anyone else aside from who we are exposed to during the day, that is debatable," she pointed out. "Unfounded rumors are nothing more than that. I think it would be wise to consider yourself simply not privy to the extent of the advancement and not assume there is none to speak of."

Mello found himself nodding at Giovanni's outburst of sorts, which echoed his own thoughts: with relatively few staff members and so many prisoners, how the hell had no one organized an uprising yet? Teresa's explanation partially answered that, but he was getting tired of her 'mysteries you know not of' routine.

"It's designed to keep us in the dark, too," he said. His own frustration, never far from the surface, bubbled up again, and he scowled. "They can fuck with people's minds at will, they can drag people here from wherever they choose. And any distance we cover at night, we lose by morning. So she's right: we have to be stubborn as fuck." Not a problem for him.

"What about the doctors? Any chance of finding out anything from them, or their belongings?" He'd read the bulletin-board discussion about them, and some had sounded as if they could be manipulated. Assuming, always, that they knew anything to tell. Breaking into their offices was an obvious enough strategy that he imagined someone had tried it, but even details about a failure there would be useful to know.

In turn, Giovanni found himself nodding at Mello's words. He wouldn't take orders from the man, but they at least seemed to be in sync with each other. Talk was just talk, though, and Giovanni wanted action. That's all easier said than done, though - and here, if he's hurt, he'll heal almost like a normal person (--but that just made Giovanni want it a little bit more).

"The doctors don't seem to be present at night, which would make their offices prime targets. Anything of value must have been looted by now, though 'value' is relative. Another possibility for action would be to recruit people who are scheduled for therapy during the daytime, and use them to gather more information about the doctors."

"I was in one of the doctors' offices last night," Teresa replied. "There was little there of interest; not even files or papers left out. There was something there one of my allies called a computer. She tried to get access to its information, but was unable to as it was locked down."

As she had never encountered a computer until then, it never occurred to her that someone else might be able to unlock the computer. She was still having a hard time trying to accept that an entire library's worth of books was stored inside that little metal box. Had it been possible to rip the box open to release the library, she would have done so, but Hime had indicated it was a pointless endeavor. That brought to mind another thing the Royal had said.

"That same ally had been in another doctor's office and found that it was trapped with poison."

"From the looks of the bulletin board, that's an ongoing effort," Mello told Giovanni. He didn't know if the person who signed their missives there as "L.L." was part of the History Club, but it was someone Mello had flagged as worth watching in his mental list of the 'patient's.

The way Teresa referred to the computer told Mello a lot about her background. "I've got some cracking experience," he said. "You get me to a computer, I can get in." Probably, but he wasn't about to add caveats with this group. "But it'd be idiotic of them to let information be that readily available, and whatever else we can say about the staff..." Assholes, kidnappers. "...they have shown they're not idiots."

It was a fucking shame they couldn't just blow the shit out of the building and run like hell, but Mello was slowly coming to accept that it wouldn't work.

Edited 2010-01-12 06:41 (UTC)

"Poison traps? How clever of them." Giovanni said that with a strange blend of respect and resentment; it was smart of them to install traps into the doctors' rooms, yes, and he understood that, but it also frustrated him that there were no obvious solutions, no intuitive pathways to take. The people they were dealing with were very clearly intelligent.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and then slowed his steps so that he could turn to look at Mello and Teresa. So Teresa hadn't known what a computer was, and Mello was proficient with them. Wonderful - a good distribution of skills. It wouldn't do if all three of them had the same area of expertise.

"The fact that they've locked down the computers and trapped offices with poison means that they expect us to explore during the nighttime. That's what I don't understand. If they were intent on keeping us entirely powerless and devoid of knowledge about the institute, why would they allow us this kind of freedom?"

The thought occurred to him that perhaps it was intentional, that the head of the institute was leading them out into the hallways of Landel's.

"Lambs to the slaughter," he murmured, and his face hardened into a frown.

"If you are proficient with picking a lock such as that, should I finish my task with enough time, I will take you to that room to try," Teresa said to Morgan.

[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/788068.html)

There were, at least, more people in this part. Kibitoshin paused, eyes drawn briefly to the railings in the center of the hall. So did that lead down into the Sun Room? He felt a shiver run through him at the thought of leaning just too far over those rails, or tipping just a fraction too heavily on those spindly bars. No flying here. If he fell, he'd-

But Franziska was already moving ahead of him. Wow, she could move fast for a human when she had her goal in sight. He hurried after her, determined not to show himself up again. "I've been meeting people," he finished eventually, hoping that it sounded as vaguely corporate out loud as it had in his head. Which it didn't. "That reminds me. I met a man who looked almost exactly like you the other day! It was so strange!"

Franziska didn't like the hesitation in Kibitoshin's voice and as they moved, she raised her eyebrow at him over her shoulder. They were drawing near the railing that apparently protected the opening over the Sun Room and even Franziska had to stop and give it a cautious glance. No doubt someday someone would be thrown over that and killed, meaning she'd have another case on her hands. A glance upwards showed the dark sky above with stars obscured by the clouds that had been hanging overhead all day.

She frowned and moved on, hearing Kibitoshin's footsteps hurry after her. She was glad he was keeping up because she'd need him to break down the doors. As strong as she was in the courtroom, her physical size was ultimately limiting and--

And he was opening his mouth again. Meeting people was a vague enough statement that allowed him leeway as to whether or not he'd been useful to the ones he'd met. But she hardly cared for that. Her question had merely been one of courtesy, something akin to small talk that she'd seen people engage in around the office. Useless for anything other than passing the time. She was about to ignore whatever else he was saying about the people he'd met, when he happened to mention a very certain someone.

A very certain someone that could only be one person because only one person looked like her. He looked like her because she took after him, a point of pride in some ways, except when the similarity was pointed out by other people. "Did this man give you his name?"

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/788068.html?thread=64409956#t64409956)]

[from here]

A few more steps and they would be out of familiar territory. Taura's gaze neither ignored nor lingered on the locked door. How had Homura come by that key?

She couldn't say anything...direct. But just because the orders had been eat-after-opening, didn't mean the conclusions weren't fair game. And von Karma had caught his breath; the darkness and its denizens were the limiting factor, now.

"Why d'you think they let us out at night?" she hissed, voice just loud enough to be heard.

tick .... tick ....

All his damages had been repaired and the assasin stretched, glad to be up and out once more. He wasn't glad about all of the people that had come storming through here though and he pushed away from the wall.

These people wouldn't get far...

What was becoming uncharted territory for Ms. Taura was now an area through which von Karma had traversed once before. Of course, no thanks to the pursuit of the decaying corpses, he had paid very little attention to his surroundings that first time. Now he could see that this was the open balcony area for the Sun Room below. Murky light filtered in through the glass windows just above them. It appeared that they were the only ones in this hallway at the moment. The sounds of a gun battle drifted in from below; perhaps it was best to avoid the railing, lest the combatants notice him and Taura.

Taura's question echoed something von Karma himself had been wondering all along. Why, indeed, did the Head Lunatic allow his inmates to run his gauntlet of madness each night? The inconsistency between stringent order by day and bedlam at night made no sense to the prosecutor. The only explanation he could think of was that Landel was tormenting his prisoners, dangling the spectre of freedom in front of their eyes only to yank it away just as they grabbed for it.

However, before he could respond, his flashlight's beam suddenly dimmed before dying altogether. Verdammt! Of all the inconvenient times to have to replace the batteries in it. It was now much too dark for him to make out any details, even with the light emanating from his companion's flashlight. Then he remembered the spare flashlight in his pocket, which already contained fresh batteries.

He met Taura's gaze, noting that her eyes were glowing in the increased darkness, just as Mr. Scar's did. He would definitely have to ask her about it later. But there were far more pressing matters at the moment.

"I beg your pardon, Ms. Taura. As you can see, Landel's flimsy excuse for a light source has failed on me," he sneered. "I had the foresight to bring a spare in case this happened. Allow me to retrieve it, and then we can be on our way."

He reached in his pocket to search for it--

...Tick. ...Tick.

He stopped. A strange new sound, mechanical in nature, far more subtle than the gunshots from below... and much closer. What in blazes was that? A clock? ...A time bomb?

Lowering his voice to a nearly inaudible, controlled hiss, he asked, "Do you see the source of that sound, Ms. Taura? What is that?"

Edited 2010-01-16 22:46 (UTC)

A spare light. That would be a good investment. Especially since it was also the only thing she had harder than her own (softer, weaker) hands.

But before she could even hiss be quiet at the first soft click, he froze as well.

And yes, she saw it. A slight, armored man, face obscured by a helmet, was stepping away from the wall and into their path.

"Behind me. Now." She stepped forward, her flashlight holding steady on the figure; metal was flashing at his hands.

This wasn't a situation for force. Pity, that. She took a deep breath before speaking again, voice loud and deep. "Who are you, and what do you want?" Sometimes, a little semblance of authority was all you needed.

Kroenen was only mildly surprised and tilted his head when she spoke to him. Reaching up with one hand, he brought it to his chest and turned the key to his heart, winding it up tightly. The ticking began to speed up bit by bit and he contiuned to move forward.

Ordinarily, von Karma would have been loath to take orders from anyone -- especially a woman who was scarcely older than Franziska and who was not his professional superior. But as Taura's flashlight beam illuminated the outline of an ominous-looking figure wielding blades at its arms and wearing what appeared to be a gas mask, he decided that an exception would be in his best interest for now.

Besides, it would buy him some time to retrieve his functioning flashlight and search for a possible way around this obstacle. His plans had already been balked once before, no thanks to that blasted reckless driver on the Recreational Field several nights ago. But now that he had someone to run literal interference for him, he had a much better chance of accomplishing his goal tonight.

Standing in the shadows behind Taura, the prosecutor watched as she demanded the figure's identity. The very same tactic he had tried on those creatures the other night. Just as he thought. Utterly fruitless.

In response, the figure performed a strange twisting motion at its midsection. Was... was that a clock key in its chest area? Now von Karma knew the source of the sound he had just asked Taura about. An automaton that literally ran on clockwork. ...Or a walking time bomb... headed right for them!

Gripping his hammer in his left hand, von Karma placed his burnt-out flashlight in one pocket and rooted through the other for the working one. At the same time, he glanced around for alternate routes, aided by the minimal light from the glass ceiling. ...The perimeter around the balcony seemed clear, without any blockades. Could he...?

Good; von Karma had moved back, and he had both weapon and, hopefully, illumination.

Whereas their opponent had continued to advance, and activated -- what? A weapon? It didn't look like one, though the swords definitely did. A shield, perhaps. One with a large, audible flaw. If it was, it didn't matter; Taura didn't want to kill what could be a fellow inmate.

She advanced another step. "This is your only warning. We are going this way." The flashlight twitched, just a hair, in indication.

"And we are going now." She took one deliberate step forward, not swerving around the man at all. Then a second.

Kroenen waited until she had taken another step and then, in a blur of motion launched himself at her, his blades spinning almost impossibly fast at her stomach.

She seemed like an easy target.

von Karma had just glimpsed three more figures -- all of them young women, from what he could tell -- heading up the balcony area to the open doorway to the north, when a whirring sound from close by caught his attention. At the same time, his right hand closed over the bulky shape of the flashlight; it had sifted all the way to the bottom of his pocket, as heavy items -- especially those that were most needed at a given moment -- were wont to do.

In a single motion, he withdrew the flashlight and clicked it on, only to be greeted by blinding metallic flashes of light heading straight for Taura's midsection. The figure's arms were spinning at an incredible speed, blurring into a silver circle -- like an airplane's turbine motor... or the blades inside a food processing appliance.

If he remained in here much longer, he was doomed.

The alternate path around the Sun Room no longer seemed viable. He could get as far as the room to the north, but just who were those women who had ducked inside there? And why had this creature made no move to pursue them? There was too much risk, too many unknown dangers in this entire area.

He then recalled the nearby stairwell that he and Mr. Scar had taken several nights ago. As much as he hated the idea of backtracking -- and as fatigued as the first trip upstairs had left him -- he had no choice but to head in that direction.

Glancing around to ensure that there were no other immediate dangers lurking in this area, he braced himself for the dash he was about to make. Surely, the stabbing pain in his shoulder and the constriction in his chest could wait...

Footsteps behind her meant that von Karma was heading out. That left one task; slowing whatever the hell was coming at them long enough for her to join him. In a flash, she twisted sideways and dropped straight down into a military pushup.

A one-handed military pushup -- her right hand shot forward and then whipped around, fist tight, aiming to knock the legs out from under him from behind. Ish; those blades were long; longer than her arms, but the geometry should keep them from landing on her head, even if he didn't go over backwards.

Or at least that was the plan.

[From here]

Thankfully, nothing seemed to be stalking through this hall, as had been the case on previous nights. Good. Maybe the enemies had decided some other part of the institute was more worth guarding toni—

Suddenly, there was a ticking sound. It hadn't been there before. A very non-human figure was approaching a pair ahead of them, and the ticking sound seemed to be coming from its chest. Don't count your chickens, Utena thought as she brought up her sword into a defensive stance, signalling Himemiya to stay still for a moment. The thing seemed to be moving very slowly, but those blades, that ominous ticking - she could bet that something very bad was about to happen.

The people in front of them didn't look like they had any weapons. The man looked about ready to run, while the woman stood her ground. The... whatever-it-was just kept stepping forward, ignoring the people sneaking by to the Chapel in favour of the targets directly in front of it. They needed her help, Utena decided. If that thing attacked with those blades, they would be minced meat. She at least had a sword; better than nothing.

"Stay back, Himemiya," she whispered over her shoulder. With a gesture to the pair in front of them, she added, "Get ready to run with them when there's an opening. I'm going to cover their escape."

She finished speaking not a moment too soon. Just then, the creature's blades started spinning wickedly fast. It was headed straight for the woman. Without thinking, Utena dashed forward. Thankfully, the woman ducked below the line of attack; good, Utena wouldn't be too late to save her. It looked like the woman was going for the thing's legs next. All right, then I'll go for the head! she thought.

"Haaaah!" Utena leapt forward as she often did at the end of duels, thrusting her blade toward the thing's neck. She intended to pierce there and then shift her sword to push down on the back of its neck, hopefully holding it on the ground after the woman knocked it down.

Edited 2010-01-19 07:19 (UTC)

Kroenen saw her drop and instantly pivoted to avoid her low strike. This had the unexpected benefit of the pink-haired young woman's blow to miss it's mark, though not completely. The blade sliced neatly though the side of his neck and indeed, in a living creature it would be a disabling blow.

The assassin simply came to a stop and considered them both while sand poured from the gash on his neck. If they moved at all, he would have to stop them. It was that simple.

tick ... tick ... tick

Their journey to the other side of the floor was first halted by an eerie ticking, then the sight of two other patients in some sort of trouble. Of course. This was the same hallway that gave them those dragonfly creatures on the first night. One of the patients was fighting and the other looked ready to run. Anthy hung back at the eastern end of the hall, in the direction they came from, and considered Utena's instructions.

"Be careful," she cautioned, keeping her flashlight on the creature and edging closer towards the other patients for the moment when they ran. Skirting around the perimeter of the fight to keep distance, her back bumped the railing and she squeezed the pipe in her right hand.

Utena would be infinitely more useful with her sword. She landed a hit, but the metallic thing didn't even seem close to human. Sand poured out of it rather than blood and she knew that the best thing they could do would be to escape.

In the precisely twelve seconds that it had taken von Karma to prepare for flight from this room, a flurry of activity happened. At the critical instant, Ms. Taura ducked out of the way and dropped to the floor in graceful acrobatic fashion, thrusting her arm out in an apparent attempt to trip the creature. Then, as though on cue in a cliched movie production, two more females -- one wielding a sword -- arrived from the opposite end of the hall. The swordswoman performed a slash attack at the figure's neck, drawing... sand? Whatever the dry, granular substance seeping out of the creature's wound was, it was definitely not blood.

And though the attack seemed to give the creature pause, it had yet to succumb to this injury that would have subdued even a robust man.

There was no question. Like the zombies from the other night, this entity was inhuman. The odds of defeating it were indeed infinitesimal. As humiliating the prospect was of fleeing, especially in front of three women (two of whom had put up a noble fight against it), he knew it was his only chance of survival and of completing his mission for tonight.

Without waiting for Taura, he spun around on his heel, the cravat flying out from his neck in a ruffled white arc as he did so, and started running in the direction whence he had come.

[Back to here]

That wasn't blood. Which skewered any compunctions Taura had (which, if pressed, she would admit were considerable) against killing a fellow patient punctured as neatly as the thing's neck.

All four of them were now on this side of the guard, which opened up a wide new array of strategic options. If, that was, they could manage to open up some distance as well.

A quick flex of her biceps, and, as quickly as she'd dropped, Taura bounced back to her feet. She raised both hands, flashlight and all, as she stepped back. "You don't want us going this way? We'll just be going, then." Her voice was a little breathless; syllables tripped over each other. Unlike her footsteps, which shuffled back while staying balanced enough to dodge at the slightest intimation that it was necessary.

Though Utena made the hit, it wasn't the kind of hit she'd been hoping for. The pivot put her blade on the other side of the creature's neck, taking away her ability to follow through on her plan. That wasn't the biggest surprise, anyway. What hit her was the sight of the sand pouring from the wound she had made. In a way, this was a relief; she hadn't been looking forward to seeing more blood. Still, how could one not be disturbed by such a sight?

The strangers were making to go back the way they had come. Definitely the smart thing to do if this creature wasn't going to be killed. Utena shifted around as the thing stood and ticked, keeping herself and her sword between it and the others. "I'll make sure this ugly thing doesn't follow you. Go now," she told the woman, keeping her blade raised and ready to block as she started inching backward herself.

Ugly? Ugly? How dare she?!? Kroenen rolled his shoulders, as though loosening up his muscles and began to spin the tonfa again, stepping forward casually. Let them come.

Ugly indeed...

Although the older man in the group made a break for it and managed to escape further down the hall, and although it appeared like Utena and the other lady fighter were making to follow suit (with Utena acting as guard until all passed safely), Anthy was hesitant to run just yet. She inched backwards like the others, never turning her back on the monster (it seemed almost strangely incited now, but stopped just short of an aggressive attack) in front.

She did not want to go far enough that Utena would be out of her sight, left alone with this -- thing, and they had no idea what it was capable of. Anthy came to the very precipice of escape after slowly creating all that distance, but wavered on turning and running down the hall. Instead she stopped, kept her eyes on Utena and waited for the other woman to pass by.

"Go first," she told her quietly, her gaze trained in front.

Taura nodded to both of them as she stepped back again, and again, moving herself out of arms reach. Then, and only then, did she turn and break into a jog.

[back to here]

[[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/785428.html?thread=64569108#t64569108).]]

Almost there... and only one more corner up ahead that monsters could be hiding in. Not counting the shadows something could be lurking within. Raine gripped her makeshift staff tighter and kept running.

[[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/795443.html).]]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/785428.html?thread=64559892#t64559892)]

Up ahead, Yukari could see two patients being assaulted by some masked assailant. She was glad she'd turned off her light. Luckily, the skylights that had let in sunlight before now let in moonlight, giving them enough to see by without their flashlights.

Guiding the ninja by the hand, Yukari took them down the branching hallway around the Sun Room, away from the fighting and towards the Chapel. Perhaps it was cold to leave those other two to their fight, but the youkai was far more concerned about Sheena's safety than theirs and was fairly sure they'd be of negligible help anyway in their current state.

The ninja found the fight easily and, suddenly, not even Yukari could hear her moving. Oh, Sheena was there, but she was silent without even her breathing registering audibly. The effort of masking her presence was making sweat bead on her forehead as she really have to concentrate past the pain of her injuries.

Had Sheena been healthy (or at least had use of both hands), she would have wanted to help the two out. Unfortunately, she was being realistic and knew she'd only be able to buy them a few seconds eventually putting herself and Yukari in more danger.

As on edge as she was, Yukari registered, just barely, as the ninja's presence disappeared. If she hadn't been holding the ninja's hand, she might not have been able to tell the girl was following her.

Yukari's steps were also light as they made their way around the Sun Room; even without her gaps, she was a person used to sneaking, sliding through the gaps in one's perceptions. Quietly, cautiously, stepping around the beams of moonlight, they made their way over until they came to the chapel doors. They were cracked open; someone had been this way. Hopefully it was just another injured patient and not someone lying in wait for just such helpless prey.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/795443.html)]

NIGHTSHIFT 46: MAIN HALLWAY, 2-CENTER

I am all the mysteries in 2-East creation? XD *shot by J.A Seazer*

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So sorry for my fail this NS! Teach me to trust notifications

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I am all the mysteries in 2-East creation? XD shot by J.A Seazer