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damned_institute2010-02-11 02:37 pm
tightsofmight) wrote in damned_institute2010-02-11 02:37 pm
Entry tags:
Nightshift 47: East Wing, Hall A
[From here.]
All right. Doctor's hallway, and it was empty. Wonderful. Excellent. Superb. Which one was it again? He knew there was stitching everywhere and it looked like a monochrome funhouse gag, but what was the office number?
He found himself swallowing air, his tongue gone papery sometime between now and passing Mr. Crossface in that last hallway. Or maybe even before that. He'd been more preoccupied with playing invisible and trying to keep his heart beat from jumping up another decibel than paying attention to how his mouth felt.
"This...well...you have a spine, Parker. Somewhere. It's what your ribs are attached to," he muttered near noiselessly to himself. "You've waltzed into stickier situations than this."
Yeah, but last time he'd done that he had been able to punch through steel. Now he could only hit a little harder than your average teenage boy. That brought on one horrible thought after another, things he hadn't allowed himself to think about during the day. What if Luxord actually did remember? What if he told Grell and they were both waiting inside, knives at the ready? What if something had happened to the man, or Grell caught on about him having amnesia and did away with him? What would he do then? Just pray that he wouldn't come back to their room and finish the job? Cross his fingers every morning before checking if Brainy was still in the other bed?
Augh, hands, stop shaking! Peter gripping them into fists, twisting the neck of the pillowcase sack. Gingerly, he stepped forward and carefully pushed open the first door to his right. It was on the right, wasn't it? The flashlight illuminated a wall full of stitches and a single light dangling from the ceiling, and the powerful stench of cigarettes walloped him in the face. Yes. Right one. On the first try and everything.
No one seemed to be inside.
Peter's heart was pretty much permanently jammed in his throat at this point, but he entered anyway, swinging the door shut behind him.
[To here.]
All right. Doctor's hallway, and it was empty. Wonderful. Excellent. Superb. Which one was it again? He knew there was stitching everywhere and it looked like a monochrome funhouse gag, but what was the office number?
He found himself swallowing air, his tongue gone papery sometime between now and passing Mr. Crossface in that last hallway. Or maybe even before that. He'd been more preoccupied with playing invisible and trying to keep his heart beat from jumping up another decibel than paying attention to how his mouth felt.
"This...well...you have a spine, Parker. Somewhere. It's what your ribs are attached to," he muttered near noiselessly to himself. "You've waltzed into stickier situations than this."
Yeah, but last time he'd done that he had been able to punch through steel. Now he could only hit a little harder than your average teenage boy. That brought on one horrible thought after another, things he hadn't allowed himself to think about during the day. What if Luxord actually did remember? What if he told Grell and they were both waiting inside, knives at the ready? What if something had happened to the man, or Grell caught on about him having amnesia and did away with him? What would he do then? Just pray that he wouldn't come back to their room and finish the job? Cross his fingers every morning before checking if Brainy was still in the other bed?
Augh, hands, stop shaking! Peter gripping them into fists, twisting the neck of the pillowcase sack. Gingerly, he stepped forward and carefully pushed open the first door to his right. It was on the right, wasn't it? The flashlight illuminated a wall full of stitches and a single light dangling from the ceiling, and the powerful stench of cigarettes walloped him in the face. Yes. Right one. On the first try and everything.
No one seemed to be inside.
Peter's heart was pretty much permanently jammed in his throat at this point, but he entered anyway, swinging the door shut behind him.
[To here.]
no subject
Peter's foul mood wasn't doing a lot for his stealth ranking as he all but stomped his way back down the corridor, pillowcase swinging like a pendulum from the force of his stride. So the first chunk of the night had been a bust, and by now most everyone was probably where they wanted to be and he was stuck wandering around alone with a carton of cigarettes in his sack.
Occupied as his mind was with visions of stuffing Luxord into a grease dumpster, he still had the presence of mind to realize that getting caught by someone he knew with a pack of smokes on hand wasn't exactly ideal for his reputation. Unless it was Badou, but what were the odds of that?
Peter pursed his lips. All right. Back to his room to drop off the insta-tumors, and he'd come up with something from there.
[To here.]
no subject
"All the offices are in this hallway," Teresa commented as she entered the hallway.
It was empty, though there was a scent in the air coming from the right hand door that irritated Teresa's nose. At least that wasn't the office in question. It smelled like tobacco, but there was something very different about it than the tobacco she remembered her father smoking when she was still a child.
no subject
"These gods were more mired in bureaucracy than any politician," he commented, following her. He had never really believed that shinigami were gods in any real sense, anyway.
Wasn't it supposedly true that the sense of smell was more tied to memory than any other? Mello found himself thinking of Matt, whom he hadn't seen in years, but had by all accounts just missed at Landel's, before he consciously identified the scent of smoke.
"Which doctor's office is this, by the way?" He'd been following the reports on doctors on the bulletin board, and thought he could probably form a reasonable expectation of what they'd encounter based on that.
no subject
In response to Morgan's inquiry, Teresa angled the light to illuminate the name plate on the door briefly before she took the knob in her hand. It had been two days since she'd broken it, so it made sense that they would have replaced it by now, especially since there had been therapy sessions going on during the day. With a sharp turn and an upward jerk, the lock snapped and once again the door knob came away in her hand.
Pushing the door open, Teresa peered in before entering the office.
[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/821650.html)
no subject
Back into the hallway with the lingering tobacco scent, Teresa did not turn left and head back the way they came. She chose the right and headed to the door at the end of the hallway. She would bypass the Sun Room altogether.
[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/822475.html)
no subject
Even more annoyed than before by Teresa's parting shot, Mello gritted his teeth and allowed her a few moments' head start before stepping back into the hallway. Someone better? I'd like to see you get into the system. No one would've been able to do it with the supplies they had here. That much was obvious. It wasn't Mello's fault.
[and on to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/814598.html?thread=66208774#t66208774)]