Night 47: M1-M10 Hallway

[lighthearted]

It seemed that for a while, Sora was going to start every night in a good mood. Even if the unlocking of those doors always meant that he was about to walk out into danger voluntarily, Sora had done that long before he ever came to this place. The fact that he was back in the right clothing again was what really brightened even the darkest of these nights.

He suspected he might get used to it after a while, but he didn't want to. It was too hard to find positive parts to this place, so he was going to hold onto this one for as long as he could. And seeing so many other patients in the normal gray shirt and pants would be a constant reminder.

The thought of Riku and Kairi's reactions was one more thing that put a smile on his face.

Dressed and ready to go, the boy grabbed his flashlight (he still needed new batteries, didn't he?) and sent a grin at his roommate. "Have a good night, Hanatarou! And you better get your idea off the ground!" Sora was going to hold him to it.

Mr. Landel had mentioned the radio, hadn't he? Sora wondered if he should take his with him, but he got the feeling that he wouldn't be able to do much with it even if an announcement came on. Hitsugaya had given them a lot to do, so... maybe it was better to just leave it. It was possible one of his friends would bring one with them, anyway, and one was enough.

Waving to Hanatarou, Sora headed out the door and down the hall. It was going to be pretty embarrassing if he wasn't the first one there, after all.

Comments

Outside M7

[screwthegods]

[From here]

Homura had made good time in getting to Hanatarou's room; certainly the trip was much easier than the prior night, when his ribs had been severely injured. Though they were still tender, Homura certainly wouldn't complain about the improvement. Hopefully they could continue to make use of Hanatarou's skills into the future. With Adelheid now gone, their access to a healer was one of the few benefits to being in History Club that Homura would publicly advertise.

As he'd done not so long ago, Homura knocked on the door, then announced his presence. Hopefully, there wouldn't be much crashing coming from the other side this time. The last person that needed to be injured was the healer himself.

M7

[mitase.livejournal.com]

There had to be some way of getting light in the room, now that the flashlight he'd been given had stopped working. Hanatarou had even more reason now to wish that he had mastery of kidou, because then he'd be able to do something other than sit in the dark. Rummaging about in his closet and drawers had yielded nothing of note (except maybe a splinter from poking around in the dark) and he wished he'd asked Sora to stick around a little longer. Or if his roommate knew where to find new batteries.

At the knock on the door, Hanatarou closed the drawer he was digging through, then turned to look into the darkness of the room. It was probably clear, since he hadn't dumped anything on the floor. But even so, if there was a way to trip, he'd find it. He always did. So instead of moving over to greet the new arrival, he just called, "Come in...?"

Re: M7

[screwthegods]

Homura pushed open the door when Hanatarou called, glad that was the only sound he heard coming from within. The relief doubled when the demi-god noticed the darkness, which wasn't entirely alleviated by his own dying light. Still, his vision had begun to adjust, so Homura wasn't as blind as he could've been.

"Hanatarou." Homura nodded toward the shape near the drawer. "I wanted to pick up what we talked about on the bulletin. I probably can't take everything now, but one of the containers should be enough for the moment." Until Homura could find someone he trusted to keep the secret, and discover just how the material worked. If it could be utilized somehow, without the mind-altering effects, perhaps their progress could become so much easier.

Re: M7

[mitase.livejournal.com]

What they'd talked about on the bulletin -- right, the bags of fluid he'd picked up in the room upstairs during the expedition the other night. Hanatarou had wanted to take a look at them and see if there was anything familiar at all, but never managed to get a chance. He didn't want to pull them out when Sora was there, after Homura's insistence on secrecy, but after it was dark and his flashlight wasn't working. It didn't seem like Homura was expecting anything of the sort, but still, the healer felt as though he'd failed. Again.

"Um, o-of course," he agreed, bobbing a small nod before moving toward the closet. "Everything's in here. You only want one of them?" Glad of the light Homura had brought (though it seemed a little dim, but maybe that was just him) he pushed aside the box of medical supplies on the floor of the closet and pulled out the pillowcase he'd carried on their raid.

Re: M7

[screwthegods]

"For now." Homura followed Hanatarou to the closet, to make sure he had light to see by. Tucking the flashlight under his arm, Homura carefully hooked his sword through the cloth loop at his side to free a hand. "If you have others, I'd appreciate it if you could examine the contents. The more we can learn about the substance within, the better."

Homura glanced toward the door then, wondering how much time had passed. He needed to hurry to meet up his group, and so he was thankful that Kenren's room was only a few corridor's away. Himura's room was closer, of course, but Homura knew that of the current core, Himura's loyalty was the weakest. He likely only remained due to the truce Homura had put into place with Okita and Ayumu, after all. While that made him useful to an extent, Homura would rather leave the find with someone he could fully trust.

[whos-da-man.livejournal.com]

Junpei was raring to go when the doors unlocked. Baseball cap firmly on head, baseball jersey pulled over his stupid smiley shirt and a pair of nice jeans on, he grabbed his baseball bat and left the Grim Squeaker behind with a quick "Later, dude."

He had a hot little number to meet up with and... he figured Asuka wasn't the type that liked a man being late.

[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/810031.html)

[M6 - Timewarping to after both residents have left the room]

[rocksthecourt]

[from here]

The walk was short, both a blessing and a hindrance at once. Klavier still had no way of predicting how his brother would respond to his presence or to anything he may have to say. He would like to think the elder would listen to anything he had to say, but... that idea had already been proven wrong, now hadn't it? But no sense in second guessing his actions now. In fact, he didn't hesitate in the least. Klavier walked right up to the door and knocked with two quick raps.

"Kristoph," he said simply through the door. That alone was enough to offer identity without stating the obvious. He waited a few beats, but received no answer. Klavier frowned slightly and canted his head at the door as though wary. He almost didn't dare speak again. "...I need to speak with you. It'll just be a minute. Alright?"

Still nothing. No response or any sound that would indicate anyone was moving toward the door. That numbness was going away and he was feeling nervous all over again. But worse than that, he was getting irritated again. It would be a complete lie to say he wasn't getting offended. "Kristoph?" Come on, he almost said. But still there was nothing.

He hesitated for a few moments, then crossed his arms and closed his eyes (a dangerous thing to do in a hallway). As well as he could, he blocked out everything else and simply focused on listening. Even someone audibly sensitive could only pick up so much through a door like this, but he couldn't hear anything. No movement, toward or away from the door. No faint, irritated sigh. No light taps or scratches of a pen. Klavier tapped a finger on his arm in contemplation. ...He wouldn't be asleep, would he? It seemed a bit ridiculous to consider, but it was possible. There was a slow inhale and exhale on his end. "Kristoph. ...I'm coming in."

He listened for a reaction of some kind. If he didn't want to talk to him, that surely would have prompted movement. But still, there was nothing. Klavier waited a few beats for the sake of courtesy before finally making good on his word and opening the door. He opened his mouth to call out one more time, but stopped himself. He didn't need to look very carefully to see the room was completely empty.

Gavin blinked in surprise and glanced around from the doorway. Not abandoned. The bed sheets, positions of the chairs, and the trays from dinner's leftovers were indications people had been here earlier. It looked like Kristoph had left his room early and headed out on his own. To where? He had no way of knowing. Obviously, it was not something he had wanted Klavier to know. He sighed slightly, both annoyed and relieved at once.

[to here]

[flamingfurball.livejournal.com]

If this so-called institute expected Nanaki to stay in his room just because the took away the wheelchair, they were sorely mistaken. Having excused himself, he made an awkward movement to the door and closed it so he could get down on all fours.

Hm. His eyes weren't very good. Nor was his sense of smell. It frightened him a little, but he reminded himself it was simply the handicaps humans faced daily. He crawled forward, it was a little easier than walking.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/810877.html?thread=66006141#t66006141).]

In M01

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

Kurt closed the closet door and turned back to Terry, swinging the yellow belt around his waist and clipping it closed with practiced ease. Like he'd expected, the suit had conformed to his body the moment the intercom announcement had sounded. Picking up the gloves and the boots, Kurt began donning them. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he'd tried to put them on his 'normal' looking feet.

"Okay," Kurt said, hopping a little as he put on one shoe. "Get the handcart and the tools, anything else?"

Re: In M01

[gothamsfuture.livejournal.com]

Instead of changing, Terry had simply thrown his costume in a pillowcase. He wouldn't risk leaving it in the room, but he also couldn't risk making the owner of the outfit too obvious. His backpack would've been better in terms of carrying it around, but the makeshift sack would do, so long as he was careful about what else got tossed in.

"No, that's it. Aside from me telling you that if you aren't back in five minutes, I'm coming after you." Terry grinned a bit at Kurt, though he couldn't fight off the wariness. His friend was already hurt, and though this method really would be quicker, Terry didn't like putting him at risk again. Still, he knew that he couldn't be discouraging; otherwise Kurt might spend the rest of his time here curled up with a pillow, instead of trying to get out.

"Be careful, okay?"

Re: In M01

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

"No problem," Kurt said, giving Terry a thumbs-up. He was nervous, to be sure, but this early in the night no one should be in the closet. That part was the most delicate portion of this whole operation. If he just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a closet that previously hadn't contained him, whoever was in there would probably start hitting him... again.

"It'll be quick enough, don't worry," Kurt assured him, putting on his gloves. "There and back, really fast."

He stared at the floor for a moment, then in a flash of light and smoke, he was gone.

[Bamfing to here! (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/818345.html)]

Outside M01

[gothamsfuture.livejournal.com]

"Let's hope." Terry didn't quite get the words out in time before Kurt vanished, leaving behind only smoke and a pretty foul odor. Maybe Kurt used his ability enough to be used to the smell, but Terry had been to dumps that weren't so bad. He tried covering his mouth and nose, but in the small space of the room, it didn't help much. So he headed out into the hall instead, leaving the door open so the place could air out a bit. Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd keep some of the monsters at bay.

In the meantime, Terry did his best to guess just how much time had gone by. He did promise Kurt a whole five minutes, but if it came down to it? He'd rather leave early than late.

Re: Outside M01

[fuzzy-diablo.livejournal.com]

[And back from here! (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/818345.html?view=66032553#t66032553)]

With a slightly metallic rattle of the handcart and the toolkit, along with the sound of Kurt suddenly occupying a previously empty space, Nightcrawler reappeared inside the room with the equipment.

He immediately regretted teleporting twice in a row so quickly. Not only did Kurt feel like he'd been pulled through a straw, he also felt like he'd run a few marathons in a row he was so tired out and dizzy. The pipes fell out of his hands in a cacophony of clangs and ringing. Kurt's empty hands found the handle of the cart and he slid down gripping it for dear life. He didn't want to just freefall to the ground, but Kurt didn't feel like he could stand much longer.

It was alright, though. The feeling of being tired had worn off quick enough in the closet. He'd probably only be like this for a few minutes.

[feartehreaper.livejournal.com]

As usual, Haseo was still trying to finish putting on his boots when that cheerful message faded away and the lights flickered off. It was with a particularly heavy sigh that the Rogue gave in to having to finish getting ready in what awkward light could be provided by his flashlight.

The day had been... well, either somewhat productive or a total waste, depending on how optimistic the person evaluating it was feeling. Unsurprisingly, Haseo was not feeling particularly positive. If anything, the word of the night was "uncertain." That and "irritated," but that wasn't particularly unusual.

Not only had his with the woman who'd met Kitecopy the night before gotten nowhere, but the nurses had definitely begun to take note of how he hadn't eaten dinner three nights in a row. He'd been promised that if he didn't start eating every meal again, they would have to 'make' him. Short of holding him down and shoving it down his throat, Haseo wasn't sure how they planned on accomplishing that, but after what had caused him to start shunning that particular mealtime in the first place, the thought of being restrained (and their likely willingness to do it) was enough to make him uneasy.

Regardless... Haseo was determined to make this night end more favorably than the last one had, meaning he needed to get to Kuhn's room as soon as possible and see if the man was... still around. Shaking his head to clear it, the Adept Rogue snatched up his sword and the pipe he'd made Endrance trade to him and headed out the door and down the hall.

[ To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/810877.html). ]

M8

[itstaichoutoyou.livejournal.com]

Hitsugaya heard the door unlock while he was busy writing a note for Kagura, listing the medical supplies Raine had mentioned during lunch.

After the annoying pest, Junpei, left, Hitsugaya donned his Shinigami uniform. The material felt good against his body, and he drew a certain inner strength from what it symbolized.

Quickly, he gathered his materials and left his room to meet with his allies.

Re: M8

[itstaichoutoyou.livejournal.com]

M2 - Waiting for Sam

[kindalikedit]

Dean was feeling a little better by the time night rolled around. The dizzyiness was still there, but it wasn't as bad as it'd been in the morning, and he knew he was gonna be able to truck on like usual if they saw some action. He still wasn't sure where that damn bloodsucker took off to, and checking the bulletin board, he hadn't read of any other attacks. And what was up with the bite itself? It was too early to start peeling it off to check himself. He didn't have to to know something was going on with it: it definitely felt colder than the rest of him, this chill that was radiating just from that spot and it had nothing to do with just getting numb there. Touching the bandage gingerly after dinner, Dean decided he'd have to ask Sam to take a look at it later.

He was pulling his normal clothes back on when the doctor came on regular as clockwork with his creepy, straight outta a crappy B-movie routine. But hey, as weird as it was, he'd seen worse - murdering clowns was kinda up at the top of the list and he didn't even want to go into the popobawa - and he figured that at least they knew were Landel was, even if he was busy pulling that demoralization crap.

Dean idled about the room after he went through his preparations. The lines on the devil's trap on the ceiling was still good, and the salt lines he fixed. At some point they were gonna need to get more salt 'cause he'd blew a lot of it torching Harry's remains. Checking his duffel bag, Dean was in for a surprise. That knife he'd lost on the bloodsucker? It was back in there. Dean blew out a breath as he pulled it out of the bag, unsheathing the weapon. There were some serious scratches on the blade when he'd nailed the bloodsucker. The point itself was chipped off, but he was frankly lucky he'd even got the thing back in one piece with the hide that monster had been packing.

Sheathing the bowie knife and attaching it to his belt, he covered it with his jacket, letting it hide its profile.

[boyking]

[from here]

At least it didn't take that long to arrive at Dean's door. Sam had walked the way here so many times, it was probably muscle memory at this point. That always took some getting used to, having a familiar route. It'd been awhile.

He stepped inside without knocking, though he made sure Dean heard an, "It's me," first before he did. Though he wouldn't have usually bothered, there'd been enough happening lately that he figured it wouldn't hurt. Normally, only the two of them ever had a key to the room, but it didn't work that way here which made it kind of hard to tell who was standing on the other side.

"Hey." He shut the door behind him. He didn't apologize for being a bit delayed; if Dean wanted to call him on it, he would, and if not, then Dean probably didn't care enough to which meant there was no point in Sam bringing it up on his own. There were entrenched rules to the way they operated. This was one of them.

Instead, he let his gaze settle on the bandage still on Dean's neck, partially hidden by the collar though it was. Unless a vampire's blood got mixed with yours, a bite was just like any other injury, but given the conditions it happened under? It warranted some concern. Not to mention the fact that the patterns they'd known and grown up kept getting turned upside down here. It made an already unpredictable job even more so.

Sometimes he wondered if he was right in not going forward all the way.

[kindalikedit]

Looking up as Sam stepped in, Dean caught the glance he’d thrown at his neck. Dean unconsciously ducked his head, going for the duffel bag like it was no biggie – and honestly, it wasn’t. His blood hadn’t been contaminated by the bloodsucker, he wasn’t jonesying for any jugulars lately, and as far as he was concerned, his performance wasn’t gonna be impacted by a little dizziness. He’d had to go on the job with a lot worse, and even with that expiration date on the table, it didn’t change the fact that he didn’t need to be handheld through this. Cold Oak didn’t change the day to day stuff, and he didn’t want it to start getting more weird between them now if he had a say in it. Dean didn’t bother pulling up the collar of his jacket more, like he had something to hide, facing his brother.

“I think we’re gonna need to stock up on salt and see if we can find some batteries,” Dean said. He held up his flashlight, “Running low on my end.”

They probably had enough salt to at least cover Sam and his rooms, but other that that? If they were gonna run into spirits or need to torch any more stiffs, they were gonna be shit outta luck. And then there was the whole thing with Ruby. Possibly teaming up with another hunter, even if Sam vouched for her, wasn’t exactly something he’d had a ton of experience with. Were they supposed to just shove supplies at her? Make her get them herself? Y’know, he was usually the kind to give the hot chick a helping hand but the whole hunter thing changed things. Babying her was out of the picture. So was totally expecting her to go her separate way, like it didn’t matter what happened to her. They needed the help; no point sugarcoating it. He just wasn't one hundred percent sure how to handle this.

Dean adjusted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, checking his knife to make sure it was snug against his belt.

“By the way, how’d you want to handle Ruby?” If Deab could skip the hot version of Gordon, that’d be cool with him. “Y’know, keeping her up to date, stuff like supplies?”

[boyking]

Dean didn't say anything about the bite, and Sam let it go. He held up an empty hand in return. "Yeah, I hear you."

They should've been more on the ball with this kind of stuff—would've, if they hadn't kept getting sidelined before they barely made it two halls down. But man, this was just one more added annoyance, wasn't it? Trying to obtain some batteries wasn't supposed to require an entire freaking runaround.

Somehow, Dean bringing up Ruby came unexpected. He glanced up, surprised. Fair enough question, probably. If he hadn't known what he had, he would've been thinking the same thing, too. He hadn't thought Dean would ask him specifically about it, though. It wasn't what he remembered. But then—that last year, things hadn't exactly been comfortable between them. They hadn't spent much time asking each other about anything. Sure as hell hadn't done it when it came to Ruby, of all people.

He gave a shrug, casual. "Guess if she needs a hand, we give it. Pretty sure she won't be shy about using us as a resource if she wants." He pulled a hand out of his pocket just long enough to brush back his hair. "Anyway, I told her what area we were in. If she's interested in company, we'll might run into her out there somewhere."

Better than to have it be a complete coincidence. He'd already "run" into Ruby once last night; to have it happen twice in a row was pushing it. The building wasn't huge, but it was big enough.

[kindalikedit]

Probably sooner was better than later – Dean wanted to see what she was capable of himself, with his own two eyes, and he hoped this wasn’t a case of armchair hunting where she knew what made a witch tick but was gonna flame out when it got real hands on. He’d just rather be sure, instead of getting all optimistic that they might actually have another hunter here who wasn’t gonna turn into a Carebear like his last roomie.

"Well, I'm ready," Dean said. Last checks were done and he wasn't gonna go running into walls from the dizzyiness, so they were good to go. The chipped knife wouldn't have been a problem if he'd had his car, but right now he was gonna just have to make do with a damaged weapon. And anyway, the stopping power should be the same, assuming what they ran into didn't need something real specific like silver blade or dust taken from a grave under a red moon or some BS. "Let's get some batteries before we do anything else."

It wasn't exactly high priority. Still, Dean didn't like the idea of their only light dying at them at a crap time, so he wanted to get this taken care of.

[cannotlogout.livejournal.com]

It took less time for him to get moving tonight, after last night's failure to do anything of use. He hadn't died or been injured he supposed, but that didn't seem so much like an accomplishment. Maybe it was here, but really, he could manage that better by just staying in his room. But no, there were things that he could be doing, he knew there were. He was, while he was here at least, a mage, a real mage who could heal and set things on fire. How many kids who played The World would kill for that chance?

No, he had to do something or he would just fall into a spiral of depression and apathy. He couldn't let that happen!

He pulled on the trainers and grabbed his things, wishing once again for his staff, and set off into the hall.

[cannotlogout.livejournal.com]

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/811750.html?thread=66073830#t66073830)]

M2

[slipperymagic.livejournal.com]

Another night. Howl dragged himself to his feet, and sulked his way into his suit, which looked as though it had been freshly pressed. That interrupted his thoughts for a moment, as he inspected the garment for signs that he had worn it the night before. He was mildly pleased to find it looking fresh and new, although it was obviously part of the magic that filled this place and kept his body clean despite two showers a week. It did little to reassure him or make him feel hygienic, though he knew his paranoia was simply that and nothing more.

There was no purpose in leaving, but it was better than staying behind. A glint in the closet caught his eye: it was the knife that he had taken the night before. With a sigh, he picked that up as well. He broke it in by tearing himself a length of cloth off his sheet, which he wrapped the blade in. He put the covered knife into his suit pocket, leaving only the handle poking out, easily accessible. It should have reassured him, but instead it haunted him with images of situations wherein he'd actually need to use it.

He snapped up the other necessary supplies and left his room before he felt strangled by it.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/809806.html?thread=66027854#t66027854).]

[lighthearted]

[To here.]