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damned_institute2010-02-26 08:59 pm
deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-02-26 08:59 pm
Night 47: Gardener's Shed
[from here]
Breaking the door down had been more of a workout than Grell had wanted that night, but after fleeing from a man who could create fire and seemed to be sending explosions all about the courtyard, he supposed he couldn't complain. The door gave way under the flurry of his attacks and Grell stumbled into the shed, dropping the chainsaw as he rather unceremoniously slammed into the floor. And if he'd been any less of a lady, he might even have cursed for the pain of it, but he held his tongue and felt a glow of pride in himself. Now if only his smarting hands and knees and his left shoulder would feel the same.
Rolling onto his back, Grell kicked the door closed and then lay there in the darkness for a moment. He could hear the sounds of the battle continuing outside. Shouting and thundering blows and chaos. He missed the time when he could have sat on the courtyard wall unnoticed, merely observing as the humans tore each other apart. He'd been accused of being voyeuristic before, but he really couldn't help it. After awhile, watching humanity roll steadily forward, inventing new and better ways to kill each other, was his only entertainment.
Once the aching in his shoulder died down, Grell pushed himself up off the ground and gave an exaggerated sigh, looking down at his clothes. "Look at yourself! All this manual labor, so unsuitable for a lady of your station. And all for it." He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes found the chainsaw lying on the ground. This place had best have what he needed or he would be very cross and someone outside was going to die, working chainsaw or no. Snatching the machine off the ground, Grell took a look around the shed, squinting faintly in the dark, trying to make out the different machines.
Breaking the door down had been more of a workout than Grell had wanted that night, but after fleeing from a man who could create fire and seemed to be sending explosions all about the courtyard, he supposed he couldn't complain. The door gave way under the flurry of his attacks and Grell stumbled into the shed, dropping the chainsaw as he rather unceremoniously slammed into the floor. And if he'd been any less of a lady, he might even have cursed for the pain of it, but he held his tongue and felt a glow of pride in himself. Now if only his smarting hands and knees and his left shoulder would feel the same.
Rolling onto his back, Grell kicked the door closed and then lay there in the darkness for a moment. He could hear the sounds of the battle continuing outside. Shouting and thundering blows and chaos. He missed the time when he could have sat on the courtyard wall unnoticed, merely observing as the humans tore each other apart. He'd been accused of being voyeuristic before, but he really couldn't help it. After awhile, watching humanity roll steadily forward, inventing new and better ways to kill each other, was his only entertainment.
Once the aching in his shoulder died down, Grell pushed himself up off the ground and gave an exaggerated sigh, looking down at his clothes. "Look at yourself! All this manual labor, so unsuitable for a lady of your station. And all for it." He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes found the chainsaw lying on the ground. This place had best have what he needed or he would be very cross and someone outside was going to die, working chainsaw or no. Snatching the machine off the ground, Grell took a look around the shed, squinting faintly in the dark, trying to make out the different machines.
no subject
The asshole had busted the lock for him, but Mello wasn't about to be remotely grateful for that. He reached the shed and flung the door open. That sprint had made him painfully aware that his legs were injured, and he all but bellowed.
"Hey, dipshit, I was here first!"
He squinted into the darkness of the small building, trying to make out what the fuck this whole chase had been about, gripping the pipe in both hands like a baseball bat. Said dipshit was about his size, and if Mello hadn't heard his voice, he would've sworn he was female. But fucking hell, that was a chainsaw. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on the pipe until his knuckles were white, so damn angry, he felt like the top of his head might blow off. "Don't even fucking think about starting that thing up."
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Also a shame was the man's attitude, which caused the death god to raise an eyebrow and bring the chainsaw up to rest on his shoulder. "Well, aren't you a rude little thing." Rude people deserved any nasty treatment they got and Grell considered chopping off an arm or perhaps both just to teach him a lesson. "And I sincerely doubt you were here first seeing how I was the one to break the lock and I am the one standing here looking at you coming in second."
A slow and defiant grin spread across Grell's face and he tapped the chainsaw methodically against his shoulder. "Some manners would do you well, all things considered. If I were to start this 'thing' up, do you think your little metal pipe would stop me?"
no subject
He tracked the motion of the chainsaw, which the asshole seemed to be using mostly as a prop for now. Mello didn't plan on giving him a chance to do anything more with it. He schooled his expression to as close to calm as he could manage, and opened his mouth as if he'd give persuasion a shot. But instead of saying anything, he brought the pipe up as quickly as he could and swung hard for Grell's head, the side not protected by the chainsaw, aiming to knock him unconscious.
no subject
But a moment later, it seemed that the anger was gone and Grell felt disappointment creeping in at the edges. How he would have loved to add a few scars to that formerly perfect body. Maybe a few more would teach the kid some manners--
Oooh, nope, not a hint of change after all.
The pipe came swinging at Grell's head and the death god turned, swinging the chainsaw down hard at the stranger's upper arm. No matter how hard he swung that pipe, he wouldn't be able to hit Grell if he had a chainsaw blade stuck in his bicep. And just in case? He leaned back as he turned, trying to get out of the path of the pipe's swing.
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"That was easier than I thought it'd be," Guybrush said as he backed into the doorway, somewhat lamenting the missed opportunity to practice his insulting skills. Everything seemed to be going so well until he turned around.
Not only had one person beaten them to the location, but two people had arrived and had enough time to start a brawl between themselves: one was armed with a pipe, while the other had a chainsaw. "Wow! Now that's something I'd love to mount in place of my evil hand," he noted to himself. "It'd be a lot sharper than this hook, that's for sure."
Observation made, he turned his attention to Javert. "Maybe it was safer outside."
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He left the door open behind them--best to leave an avenue of escape if things got messy--and surveyed the contents of the shed from his current position. If there was anything out of the ordinary in here, he couldn't see it. There was a possibility that one of the machines lying in disuse here might be what they were looking for, but he wouldn't know the difference.
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He turned a couple of times, surveying the walls of the shed. While he stopped briefly on a lawnmower (an even better object to strap to himself to fight the undead), something better caught his eye: a shovel, all by its lonesome against the wall. "Nothing better for digging up that X when we find it. If we find it. If it's here at all."
He looked at the items he was carrying, then to his hook, then to the shovel. "This is going to take some grace and cleverness and a little bit of awkward maneuvering." With quick movements, he tucked the saber under his right arm, moved his flashlight under his left, and grabbed the shovel, tucking the wooden handle just under the light and balancing the shaft on his hook. He then dropped the saber into his right hand. "There! Ready for fights and for digging. Well... Javert might have to dig this time. Note to self: get a backpack."
Guybrush turned quickly, scanning the floor beneath the two quarreling patients. No X there. Where could it be, then?
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Niikura crashed into the shed, still rubbing his eyes furiously and just barely avoiding the scuffle between Morgan and some guy he couldn't make out--wait, was that a chainsaw? He looked down at his flashlight and then backed up. Yeah, this...wasn't his fight. Time to find that treasure instead.
Unfortunately, two other men were also in here, but they looked like they were still searching around, trying to find whatever it was. That meant that this item, it had to be hidden deep, not something he could find just by scanning the walls or the ground. Although, one of the men was hefting a shovel. No...she hadn't honestly buried it, had she?
"Lookin' for buried treasure? Ya aren't pirates too, are ya?" he asked, trying to keep his voice down - a little difficult, given the fight currently raging in the same room. At the same time, he began rooting through a nearby row of fertilizer, searching for something hidden in the gaps.
To be honest, Niikura wasn't so much interested in getting what was hidden here as he was in knowing what it was. This was his first night; he still had little idea of what was worth anything around here - other than nifty weapons, obviously.
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"Not as such," he said dryly in response to his question, glancing at Threepwood before returning his attention to the equipment stacked around the shed. "Though we are certainly interested in whatever it is Mlle. Jill has hidden in here--if she's hidden anything at all. You are welcome to help us look."
If nothing else, another pair of eyes could only help them find the item in question that much more quickly. He, too, was more concerned about finding anything at all than who actually got to keep it in the end. He didn't particularly care, as long as the patient in question didn't attempt to kill him with it upon its discovery. That would be inconvenient.
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"Well, I'm a pirate," Guybrush answered, minutely offended Javert didn't mention it. The newcomer certainly didn't look the part of any pirate he'd seen, though the white hair did add a striking touch to his appearance. "But I do agree with him- help would be nice, if you can stay out of arm's length of those two." He jerked his head toward Chainsaw vs Pipe before sidling toward the back wall of the building.
He pushed a lawnmower aside with his foot, checking under it for any sign of buried treasure. "Nothing on this side, Mr. Javert," he called.
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"Another one?" Niikura asked under his breath. Well, maybe the hook should have been a dead giveaway, but who saw arr arr shiver me timbers pirates in this day and age? This one didn't use a Slingshot/Staff of Death, at least.
"Aye, sure, I'll help," he said, likewise glancing back at the strangely contained fight raging behind them. It was a miracle they hadn't knocked down the building yet. This shed was pretty impressively built. "What're we lookin' for?" He glanced around hopefully for something that looked out of place.