damned_institute | Night 47: Chapel

Entry tags:

Night 47: Chapel

[From here.]

The Scarecrow skidded into the room behind Abe, thankful he was in the company of a professional for this sort of situation. Once through the open doors, he turned and immediately set to work on closing them, trying to put at least one wall between them and whatever was lurking in the hallway. They clanged shut and the strawman leaned on them, trying to settle his racing mind. What was that out there? And would those who were fighting it be okay? He didn't like to think of what could happen to them, especially if that had been some relative of the Mangled Witch lurking in the hall.

Oh, his sensations were definitely in working order at the moment- he could feel that thudding of his heart in his chest as he tried to catch his breath, his legs jittering as they threatened to give way beneath him. It took a moment to force himself to relax his body. The human form reacted so strangely in duress- it was a wonder it could handle itself at all.

"That went well," he said with an optimistic smile to Abe. "I thought it'd catch us for sure!"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For someone so seemingly clumsy the Scarecrow ran very fast. Abe had planned on forcing himself to slow--when the Scarecrow took off Abe had to hurry to catch up. If the monster saw him, he never noticed, all his attention was set on making sure his companion kept his feet moving and wasn't halted by a wide swing of one of those hovering blades.

He skidded into the doors--they were there--and threw the force of his momentum against them, curving back around as his feet touched the rough carpet and shoving the doors closed again. The noise felt far too loud to his ears, but it was between them and it. Through the door Abe could still faintly hear the sounds of the fighting and felt a soft sting of regret at not staying to help. But they weren't his humans and they weren't his responsibility. New, backbone-filled Abe didn't go sticking himself out for human strangers.

Now, how was the clumsy human he'd taken to guarding out of no reason besides guilt?

Abe held one hand up in front of the Scarecrow's face "Shh. Not too loud, it might still notice us." He left two fingers on the door and turned to look at where they'd barricaded themselves into this time.

Well, it wasn't another cafeteria.

"Where does Landel get the money for this?" Abe murmured in resigned bemusement, staring up at the marbled ceiling. To all appearances they'd stepped out of a mental hospital and into a church. First the ballroom and now this new beauty tucked away behind banality with no seeming purpose.

Something was slightly off about the room, however, and Abe let his eyes roam until he figured out what it was. There were no crosses, no stars (six pointed or five), no scenes of conquest or redemption in the glass or carved angels framing the podium. It was a place of worship with the symbols taken out, leaving it bare of any recognizable religious artifacts.

Recognizable to Abe, anyway, and Abe knew a lot of religions. From the back he heard the sound of flowing water but couldn't quite make out the source, and to go and look would mean leaving the door behind. He tore his gaze from the colored glass and went looking for something to use as a barricade.

Shushed, the Scarecrow stayed against the door, listening carefully for anything that might have been out of the ordinary: he didn't hear anything, save for the sounds of his own breathing and the commotion from the hall. He let his feet slide forward on the floor, having a seat in front of the door with his legs stretched before him. The moment of rest was used to take a look around the room. He clicked on his flashlight, illuminating the view around him.

Well, this certainly was a strange room. Long, ornate decorations- the way it was structured somehow reminded the strawman of the throne room in the Emerald City, though it was definitely less green. Now that his breathing had slowed, he could tell there was some sort of water flow somewhere in the room, but he couldn't see from his position. He rose to his feet, taking a step from the door before having another thought. It was possible the creatures from the Horrible Hallway might have seen them run into this room. They'd be in trouble if the Mangled Witch followed them.

"Money?" the Scarecrow asked as the beam landing on a bench of some sort- that would work. With one quick glance at the door behind him, he walked to the structure, shining his light to the floor to see if it was nailed down in any way.

Edited 2010-02-17 17:22 (UTC)

Apparently they'd had the same idea. Abe gave the pew a tentative shake and found it impossible to move. "To pay for this. There's a grand ballroom hidden in the basement and a chapel here. Why would you hide the most beautiful parts of the building behind dull white walls?" he mused, gesturing to the Scarecrow to come away from the door. If they couldn't barricade it, they could at least be far away enough to get some advance warning before the creature burst through.

Abe carefully walked in further, scanning the pews and walls for some symbol, some art, something that wasn't so...agnostic in design. The secular banality frustrated him, places of worship were usually amazing keys to the identity of those who created them. How could someone worship nothing but build a shrine to it anyway?

"That does seem peculiar," the Scarecrow agreed, moving away from the door at Abe's beckoning. He couldn't think of any reason the Wizard Landel would have such apparently special rooms hidden away in dangerous locations like the second floor- well, any good reasons. The room did have certain aspects similar to the Emerald City's throne room, and that was where the Wizard of Oz had- oh! What if the Wizard Landel operated from this room? Surely he would have revealed himself when they entered, but there was always the possibility he was just biding his time.

As the other man seemed to be eyeing the walls, the strawman shined his light into the dark spaces between the pews as he crossed the room, making sure the Wizard Landel or the Mangled Witch wasn't hiding there. While it seemed Abe was being cautious enough for the two of them, it surely couldn't hurt to throw a little more onto the pile, especially when they were only a wall away from monsters and the Horrible Hallway.

Getting closer to the front of the room, the sound of water became more apparent, along with something else- a curious smell in the air, one the Scarecrow didn't recognize. "What is that?" he asked, having another inhale to try and pin down the identity of the scent.

"Sounds like a fountain. I'd say baptismal, but this doesn't appear to be a Christian facility." Abe let his hands hover over the pews and pillars of the room, finally resting upon the podium itself. Extending his mind found nothing--this was a place of darkness, but of peaceful darkness. No one had been in the room tonight, nor evil rituals conducted here.

It left him reeling, and when he turned he had to blink several times to even understand what he was looking at. It was some strange stone form with liquid pouring from its maw, definitely nonhuman but not in Abe's lexicon of known creatures.

Not Christian. Not normal human, either. Was this the being this chapel was dedicated to?

The Scarecrow nodded in the darkness at what Abe was saying, not fully understanding some of the terms he was using, though he supposed it was some sort of jargon from his line of work. He started to ask, but his light landed on the elaborate fountain as he neared it, giving the man pause.

"Well, would you look at that!" he said in a loud whisper, surprised to see such a structure in a place like this. It seemed strange to see a fountain inside- one would think the water would splash on the floor and make a real mess of things. He trailed his light down the font, trying to get a better view of it and hopefully figure out what the structure was supposed to be. It looked too bizarre to be a common decoration, and--

His thoughts cut off abruptly as the liquid flowing from the structure was illuminated. While it was definitely the source of the smell lingering in the room, it certainly wasn't water. "You're the professional," he said, getting the feeling that whatever the purpose was for the room and fountain, it couldn't possibly be good. "What do you suppose all this stuff is for, then?"

Edited 2010-02-19 22:02 (UTC)

"I'm not sure, I've never seen this kind of artifact before." Abe circled the statue uneasily, one hand before him and the other directing the flashlight's beam down its length. "Don't touch it, and if you see any writing don't read it out loud. If it moves, start running." Oh, for Hellboy or Liz or someone with proper training in handling the disturbed occult.

His light traced down the spout to the thick liquid in the fountain's pool. Blood. From where and feeding what, Abe had no idea, but his own blood froze in sympathy. Nothing that took this much blood to power its worship was on the side of good.

"Will do," the Scarecrow confirmed. He would have been reluctant to touch it even if Abe had ordered him to do so. Running away from it, on the other hand, was an action he was already considering. Something about the fountain- and the entire room, for that matter- sent that tingling, foot-on-floor feeling throughout his body. He couldn't put his finger on why, either- even though the room was dark and within the Institute's walls, it seemed safe enough. Nothing had formed itself from the shadows to strike at them yet. Despite that, he was sure he didn't like this entire setting.

"Where should we go now?" he asked, taking a step back. He tore his eyes from the pool, looking along the walls with his light. "There doesn't seem to be another way out of here, and going back out there with that thing doesn't seem smart at all. I doubt we'll be lucky twice."

Edited 2010-02-20 03:49 (UTC)

Abe ignored the Scarecrow's ramblings and kept looking over the statue. It was the key to all this, he was sure of it, interpret the statue and he'd get a clearer picture of what kinds of beings he was dealing with.

"Do you think they worship this...thing?" he asked, more for his own benefit than any interest in the Scarecrow's opinion. Talking helped one think. "Perhaps Landel sacrifices the pain and fear of the patients to feed its hunger. It would explain the seemingly pointless torture."

Coming around the front of the statue again and Abe just barely avoided stepping on a square-shaped indentation in the floor. Indentations were also not good, that meant something was meant to go there and cause something else, usually something bad. A flash of letters in the flashlight beam caught his eye, and Abe crouched to read it.

Any sinner who is injured, step forward and be healed for a price.

Interesting. What injury was Landel trying to heal?

"I'm not really sure what you..." the Scarecrow trailed off as he returned his attention to Abe, trying to figure out what he was doing. The man looked lost in some serious thought (oh, how he knew that feeling!) as he moved around the stone form, scrutinizing every detail to figure out its purpose. Knowing it would surely be easier to concentrate if he weren't being bombarded with questions, the Scarecrow stood silently for a few minutes, observing Abe's work.

Feeling a dull ache in his legs, the Scarecrow took a seat on the nearest bench, resting his hand on the surface next to him as he leaned into the pew. Oh, the little things he took for granted sometimes- especially those human feelings. It was as though the mysteries of this place never ended! As he seemed to come closer to finding out some scrap of information about one question, several more appeared and took lives of their own. It couldn't be as easy as simply traveling to the third floor, finding his straw body, and somehow finding a way to return to it and get home: why was the Horrible Hallway so protected during the night ours? What was this room doing here? And what was it used for? It wasn't simple as narrowing it down to only those ponderings, either.

Well, what was he worrying for? It wasn't as though things had been uncomplicated in Oz, either- the fact was that he had more means of thinking about what was puzzling him there. Here, he had a brain of questionable quality, and he was sure it muddled his thoughts sometimes. It was unfortunate that it was with this brain he was forced to do some of his hardest thinking: so many questions of his own character had crawled into his mind since his arrival. Was it worth it to trade his knowledge for human sensation? Would he trade who he was for a life he couldn't possibly have had in Oz? Or was that the cowardly choice, running away from obligation? Even if he wasn't sure if he'd make it home or not, it wasn't as though he could simply ignore those concerns.

Abe's voice pushed through the silence, drawing the strawman's attention again. What he was saying made some sense. "Wait, are you saying he drew us here and sets his minions on us to somehow power his dark wizardry?" he asked, making sure they were on the same page. "That would explain why he put some of us in human bodies. What about people who were living things, but also non-humans? They could already feel pain before, so why change them?"

"I don't know. Perhaps human forms were required, or perhaps they were easier to manage. Perhaps the process of coming here transforms us all to humans by default. These things operate within set rules but those rules are often complicated and hard to outline."

Sated, if not satisfied, Abe turned his attention to the wall behind the statue. He ran his hand over it, then pressed down his palm and gave it a reading. No doors, no passage. No back way out so easily, it seemed. Headache for naught, just like the rest of this blasted place. Abe sighed and leaned against the wall, waiting for the pain to wear off.

It was a horrible lead. The writing was in plain, useless English and the statue was unlike anything he'd ever come across. Here he'd come and set him up as the experienced protector of the innocent Scarecrow and he knew absolutely nothing and now they were blockaded into the chapel by a monster he also couldn't identify and this entire trip was turning into yet another pointless runabout.

In his experience, the Scarecrow had found that magic was difficult to explain, so it didn't surprise him that Abe didn't have a definite answer for his question. Even if he had his own body and brains back, the fact was that he wasn't a wizard, and some of the intricacies of magic would always be a mystery to his untrained mind. After all, it could produce fire from thin air as easily as it could send a girl from Oz to Kansas with a click of her heels. It was apparent that the magic could be used for good or for wickedness, depending on the caster: the real question was whether the Wizard Landel was a good wizard or a bad one.

Judging by the feel of the room and the clever little thing, the Scarecrow was willing to bet he was not a good wizard by any standard.

The Scarecrow got to his feet, immediately noticing the lack of the feel and weight of his body and finding himself awkwardly unbalanced. His arms flailed a second before he caught hold of the backrest of the bench and righted himself. The clever little thing sure found odd times to activate- he'd not been doing anything aside from sitting quietly and thinking. Something had to be causing it to work, he just knew it!

Well, here he was with someone who might have some inkling of how it worked, given his expertise. "How is it you know so much about this sort of magic, anyway? I know you said you're a professional and-- " He stopped as he gave Abe a concerned look. "Are you all right?"

Edited 2010-02-23 01:52 (UTC)

"Just a minor headache from using my psychic abilities, it will pass." Abe touched two fingers to the middle of his forehead, trying to will the annoying ache away. For nothing else he wanted his body back, to stop the necessary migraines.

"Before I came here, and before some..." His free hand waved about as he tried to encompass the gigantic incident in simple terms. "Incidents with my employers, I worked for an organization dedicated to researching and defending against attacks by the occult, either through magic or by supernatural creatures. For lack of a better term I was raised to research as much as possible about such things."

He paused, hand falling from his face. "And in many cases, when it became dangerous to humanity, to capture or destroy it." The Scarecrow wouldn't understand the BPRD's complexities, or the fact that actions that were necessary at the time could seem in retrospect to be cruel or downright traitorous. If Nuala had come to him earlier, or god forbid found him first instead of the humans...he might have been a very different person.

Abe briefly entertained the image of himself as some soldier in Nuada's army, sword in hand, wetsuit replaced with fine linen and gold. It appealed to him, strangely, and made him worry about how this place was starting to influence what had previously been a very firm moral structure.

While he couldn't relate to Abe's experiences, the Scarecrow understood what it was he did: he was someone who protected folks from wicked witches and wheelers and the like. It was a much more admirable profession than he'd imagined for the thinking sort he pictured Abe to be.

"I've got to say, Abe, you're a surprising guy," he said with a smile as he approached the fountain. "Not only could you tell I wasn't originally flesh and blood from one handshake, but you defend people as well? Well, color me impressed! Even the Royal Army of Oz can't do all that. That sounds like a job that takes a lot of brains, heart, and courage. Most people would face their worst fears to have just one of those, you know."

He gave an approving nod- he'd have faced a whole box of matches to get brains and help Dorothy get to the Emerald City, but to do it as a profession? It was something to envy, being able to help others in such a way.

Edited 2010-02-23 04:54 (UTC)

"Oh. Well." Abe squirmed, flustered in the presence of someone actually thinking his job was good and courageous. It was either being feared by the outsiders or criticized by the insiders for not doing his job with enough stealth or efficiency. "I don't have a lot of brains, just a slightly abnormal one. My frontal lobe has a unique shape to it, which we believe allows my psychic abilities. As for the others...well. I don't think, in any exceptional quantity."

His heart was only big enough to ache with loneliness, and his courage enough to face the darkness with a gun but not to step out and show his face in the light. How simple things had to be in the Scarecrow's world, where disappointment didn't seem to exist.

"An abnormal brain?" the Scarecrow asked in genuine surprise. Until that moment, he'd been certain that brains were brains and aside from the experiences they'd had, they were mostly the same from every person and animal to every slimy creature that slunk through the seas. The possibility that having a differently shaped brain could grant different abilities and effects had never crossed his mind. Perhaps the Wizard had been right: it wasn't the amount of brains someone had that gave them wisdom, but the quality and unique aspects of those brains.

In that case, he definitely needed to find his straw body. The brains he'd had were the best, and were certified as such with his Doctorate in Thinkology- it'd be a shame to lose them, especially when he'd worked so hard for them. Until then, he needed to learn more about his human brain and figure out how to get the most out of it. "So having an abnormal brain or one that's been tampered with isn't necessarily a bad thing at all?"

Abe outright winced. He hadn't said anything but the truth and yet somehow he felt he was decieving the Scarecrow about the dark reality of the situation. No one could have a firm grasp of things here and still be constantly finding the good side of the situation, nobody thought like that.

Not unless someone had, for lack of a better word, programmed them to think like that. Abe wondered for the first time about the Scarecrow's origins and who'd made such a peculiar grinning golem.

"It really depends on the abnormality and how it's been tampered with," he said carefully, wary of any statement that might be taken the wrong way. The actual headache faded, but the metaphorical ache remained. "Your alteration, done without against your will and for some unclear sadistic purpose...I can't imagine anything benevolant about it."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject