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damned_institute2010-02-14 01:42 pm
vitale.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-02-14 01:42 pm
Night 47: East Wing, Hall 2-A
( from here. )
Bella trailed her hand against the wall and down the hallway, mentally counting the number of doors as she passed them. She didn't want go miss the door and go into the wrong one and waste even more time. She was going to be in enough trouble as it was.
One, two, three ... four, her hand lingered on the fourth door, and she lifted her flashlight to look at it. The small sign on the door read the correct title, and she couldn't help but grin to herself before grabbing onto the doorknob -
Augh. It didn't open.
Shit, she cursed to herself, frowning. Jiggling the handle proved that the lock didn't feel all that sturdy, and for a moment she wondered if ... hmm.
Bella rolled up her map and put it back into her pocket, taking a few steps back down the hallway. It might hurt, but she had heard about how to break open doors form her father. (After he gave her pepper spray he had proceeded to tell her that should she be kidnapped and thrown into a room with a locked door, she had to try and bust the door down. Bella had rolled her eyes at the event, but thinking back on it now, it came in pretty handy.)
"One," she counted, low under her breath as she braced herself. "Two ... three."
Bella trailed her hand against the wall and down the hallway, mentally counting the number of doors as she passed them. She didn't want go miss the door and go into the wrong one and waste even more time. She was going to be in enough trouble as it was.
One, two, three ... four, her hand lingered on the fourth door, and she lifted her flashlight to look at it. The small sign on the door read the correct title, and she couldn't help but grin to herself before grabbing onto the doorknob -
Augh. It didn't open.
Shit, she cursed to herself, frowning. Jiggling the handle proved that the lock didn't feel all that sturdy, and for a moment she wondered if ... hmm.
Bella rolled up her map and put it back into her pocket, taking a few steps back down the hallway. It might hurt, but she had heard about how to break open doors form her father. (After he gave her pepper spray he had proceeded to tell her that should she be kidnapped and thrown into a room with a locked door, she had to try and bust the door down. Bella had rolled her eyes at the event, but thinking back on it now, it came in pretty handy.)
"One," she counted, low under her breath as she braced herself. "Two ... three."
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Stepping back, Bella rubbed at her shoulder and braced herself for another hit. Counting to three once again, she raced towards the door and smashed into it once again, this time the door letting out a slight cracking sound as she collided her shoulder into the heavy door. At least she was making slight progress.
Bella repeated the process two more times, each time the door letting out louder and louder cracks. With her small little body she couldn't exactly cause much damage, but repeated abuse should work after a while.
And on the fifth time, it did. Bella's shoulder hurt pretty badly by that point, but she knew that she had to keep going. Once more and she should do it ...
This time she counted to ten, giving herself enough time to get into the mindset that she would be able to break through the door. She just had to ...
Ten. Running as fast as she could, Bella threw herself once again into the heavy door, only for a loud crack to sound and the door to fly open. Letting out a gasp of surprise, she fell into the room with a crash.
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Exiting the storage room with her newly acquired medical kit in hand, Bella wasted no time in speed walking down the darkened hallway. She could hear faint echoes of others somewhere down the hall, and she wasn't in the mood to see exactly what they were fighting in fear that said thing would turn after her as well.
Especially since she was without a weapon.
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As they advanced further, Kirk could hear shouting and movement in the near distance, but the strange impenetrability of the darkness made it impossible to make out anything by sight. The direction of their goal, however, was silent. Standing at the mouth of the hallway, Kirk panned the light slowly, noting the line of doors on either side of the narrow space. Rusted signs marked out the purpose of each room, but his attention slowed on the fourth door on the right, which stood slightly ajar.
"Which room is that?" he asked his navigator.
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"General storage area," Chekov announced. "As for other storage areas, zere is ze petient possessions storage area, an employee locker room, a file storage area... anozer storage area behind a Janitor's closet... oh, a chemical storage area in ze other wing..."
He looked back up from the map and back at the door. "Keptain... do you zink zat zere is truly some kind of helpful item? It could be a trep..." He'd never heard of this Ms. Radio, and he couldn't say that he immediately trusted a voice coming over a radio and bestowing gifts on the prisoners. Usually, in his experience, if something was too good to be true, it usually was. Unless it was his favorite Russian restaurant down in San Francisco--at which he could actually speak Russian with the owners. He couldn't see this person, and he couldn't even begin to guess what their motives were.
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"I agree. We're probably looking at fifty-fifty odds of it being a trap. Hell, it could be that whatever we find does help us, but we end up playing into their hands in the long run." He shifted his flashlight back to his left hand, and reached out to touch the door to the general storage area. There was a slight creak as it moved. "Right now, however, we have little choice but to play by their rules. They've shown their power and the control they have over us. If there's the slightest chance that this is the enemy of our enemy, then we'll take it."
He shot Chekov a quick smile.
"But carefully."
[to here]
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The hallway was still empty when they emerged from the general storage area, but not soundless. He was certain now that whatever sounds were coming from further west meant a fight, which pained him to ignore (what if someone was hurt?) but he knew he would be no better at countering whatever it was that was attacking those patients. Kirk grit his teeth and concentrated on the task at hand: reconnaissance, supplies and the questionable hint given by the woman on the radio.
"You said there was another storage area behind the janitor's closet, correct?" he asked Chekov.
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Upon the Captain's request, Chekov pulled out the map (he'd refrained from taking anything, in order to keep his hands free to work the map and flashlight) and consulted it. "A-Aye sir," he said, confirming the location with a small tap of his finger on the darkened page. There had to be a better way to do this besides keeping both of his hands busy with a piece of paper, pen, and flashlight. What he wouldn't give for a display screen...
Faced with the door, Chekov tried the handle. Locked, like the other one had been. He looked back at Captain Kirk, then remembered how the Captain had hurt himself trying to break the door down downstairs. He didn't want to watch while Captain Kirk possibly injured himself further.
"Allow me, Keptain," Chekov said, backing up a few short steps. With a second or two of preparation, he bounced once and kicked to the side of the doorknob. The door rattled, Chekov muttered a string of Russian, then kicked at it again. He stumbled forward a little as it swung open, then slowly creaked back towards the doorframe again. The ensign turned to Captain Kirk, smiling brightly, then led the way into the closet.
((To here! (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/818345.html?thread=66433705#t66433705)))
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Edgar counted the doors as he walked past them, trying to recall which doors he'd visited with Kuukaku. He remembered where he'd found the tool kit, and that room had been directly across from the room with the air tanks. He moved his light to the fourth door on the right as they approached, illuminating the doorway.
"It seems we're not the first here, either," he remarked, his pace slowing with caution.
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...Oh, that was ominous. Yuna nervously shone her light around, hoping they wouldn't encounter another monster like the one they'd just left behind. Though instinct told her they wouldn't—the hall was...not right, somehow, for that kind of encounter.
Still, it was best to be careful. "Which door is it?" she whispered, listening for anything approaching.
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[To here.]
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Well, it was all fun and games to tease, but she really should answer the man's question. The only problem is that there was no particularly good answer beyond what she'd already said.
"Well, 'youkai' itself is a very broad term, covering a whole classification of things that aren't human," Yukari explained as they came down the hall. "Not demons, not gods, not ghosts and not celestials. They can be most anything supernatural, sometimes representing some force of nature or some strange phenomenon or sometimes just being an unusually old snake that became a dragon or a fox that lived long enough to grow nine tails. The mystic, the magical, the supernatural beyond human understanding of the world - we are the creatures that go bump in the night."
It was a vague statement, but youkai were vague creatures. Yukari, especially, was a vague kind of person. Her own request was a little more direct though, once they reached the door they wanted.
"Do you think you can use creative application of your powers to pick the lock?" she asked, indicated the locked door to Patient Possessions. "Well, worst comes to worst, you can just bash it in with a flashlight; some of these locks are pretty flimsy." While on the other hand, some where nigh-indestructible. Obviously, there were places they were allowed and not allowed by the man in charge.
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Bucciarati smiled to himself as he leaned over to inspect the lock. He had been in Passione, so breaking and entering wasn't entirely new to him, but he had always been more suited for interrogations or killing. Not lock-breaking. Of course, Sticky Fingers certainly helped with that, didn't it? Bucciarati summoned Sticky Fingers to his side. Bucciarati's Stand reared up to punch the door and soon enough its fist slammed into it, right next to the doorknob.
"Damn..." Bucciarati muttered as he inspected the zipper. It was barely a foot long. Up until now, that had been enough to get by in the institute. All he had really needed to do was detach the odd limb or two and make a hole on his chest to demonstrate his powers. When it came to opening doors, however, Bucciarati would need a much bigger zipper.
Or would he? As an idea suddenly struck, Bucciarati opened the zipper and reached his hand through the door. After fumbling around for the doorknob on the opposite side for a while, Bucciarati eventually found it. With a single, albeit forceful turn, the door opened. Bucciarati brought his hand back through the zipper and closed it.
"There we go," Bucciarati said cheerfully, turning back to Yukari, "Normally I would have been able to make a zipper spanning the entire doorway, but apparently my powers have been limited in more ways then I had originally thought."
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Yukari stood back and let Michelangelo work his magic on the problem at hand. It seemed he was just going to try bypassing the door... and for some reason, it worked.
"Huh. That trick doesn't work for me here," she commented, only slightly put out. "While normally I can send my gaps anywhere, one of the ways I'm restricted here is that I can't push them through solid objects - at least, those I can't see though," she commented. "Otherwise these locks would be much less of a hassle for me."
Then again, she could still make hers go a fair bit of distance away, while it seemed Michelangelo's powers were restricted to what he could touch, either by this place or by its original nature.
"Well, let's see what's inside!" she said cheerfully, shrugging it off and heading inside.
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/830154.html)]