damned_institute | Night 48: Kitchen

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/854714.html?thread=67793082#t67793082)]

There was someone else here, which unexpectedly reminded Sasuke of the first time he'd run into Aidou -- something that at once reminded him of the danger of the Institute (there had been those fire creatures that had dealt burns even in their death) and forced him to remember that he hadn't expected out of the vampire upon first impression, either.

It bore remembering. Sasuke focused for the sound of Zack's footsteps, trying to get a sense of their pattern and keep them in mind for reference.

Well, these two moved quick and were all business! Zack didn't have a hard time keeping up, of course, but it did make it hard to carry on a conversation. Not that he couldn't focus when the task called for it, but he had even chatted with Cloud when the kid had been practically comatose. He only resorted to silence when it was a truly dangerous situation.

Which the Sun Room back there might have been. That feeling of something watching them had cleared up, but he'd seen something back on the bulletin board. He'd only caught a glimpse, but it had been enough to unsettle him.

Now that they'd reached the kitchen, Zack had finally reached unfamiliar territory. While he was walking along with the others, he did spare some time to look around. There were two other patients in the room, but it seemed like they were just poking around. "So, this is where they make that delicious, possibly-poisoned food..."

It looked like they were just crossing the room, probably to one of the doors that Zack spotted at the back. It was clear that both Aidou and Sasuke had been this way multiple times before, with how comfortable they were. It made him wonder at why they'd needed a clueless newcomer like him, but he figured he shouldn't question a free tour.

Another thing he'd noticed was that there was something off about the way Sasuke moved. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he was going to put his finger on it eventually...

For such a small area, it was getting crowded--a mild displeasure as it meant negotiating past others at the same time he kept his senses trained for something out of the ordinary. At the same time, if something did happen to attack in the next few moments, there was more than one target to get in the way…

So long as it meant he and his didn’t get involved. Aidou took stock of the two upon entering the kitchen while he watched what was going on around the fridge in the back.

He, and no doubt Sasuke, knew where the true value of the kitchen lay, but by Zack’s demeanor, the room held some interest for him. If there were sharp implements around, something that’d occupy his human companions, it would’ve been worth taking the time to steal some, but Aidou had never found anything useful short of the metal people to have their weapons forged. It was the trap door they really wanted, so at Zack’s idle comment, he turned back ahead with, “Poison’s probably the one thing you don’t have to worry about.”

By one of the prisoner’s exclamation, it seemed the basement was to be that duo’s goal, too. Well, they’d just have to get their first, wouldn’t they?

“Come on,” he murmured lowly. “Let’s go down head of these guys.”

_{[to here]}

Following Taura was pleasant--the woman's authoritative air wasn't as defensive or controlling as Tylor might have worried, but she seemed to be fairly responsible. Tylor nodded at her question, shivering successfully banished, and smiled with an open look of appreciation. "Definitely!"

As he actually turned to the pots and pans and not the person asking, however, he started to frown again, running his flashlight over them slowly again. "Hey--I don't see a tea kettle or a water boiler anywhere. Do you? I was hoping we could have tea together, but that'll be pretty hard without anything to heat up water with."

And tea, but they were in the kitchen now. Even if there was no coffee or alcohol, there had to be tea back there. "Or coffee, if we can find it and you like it."

Aww. He was a sweet one. "I could go for some tea." Tea was civilized. Cosmopolitan and old-fashioned at the same time. Captain Thorne went into raptures over a nice cup of it whenever the mail from Earth caught up with them. So did Mr. von Karma -- now there was an image. They'd either get along like a house on fire or -- like a house on fire. Taura wasn't quite sure which.

Though thinking of Bel wasn't the best of ideas; not when the last time Taura had seen it, it had been working for the Institute. Bel, reduced to running interference for an incompetent megalomaniac. There wasn't anything in the Nexus that Taura could imagine would co-opt Bel Thorne. Everyone has a price, Nine. No. She shook her head, hoping Tylor hadn't noticed the fact that her head had been parsecs away for a moment there.

"But I don't think they have any. I have a better idea."

She jogged over to the central door -- the metal one that looked almost like an airlock, with oversized hinges and a big lever for a handle. It swung open easily, a rush of cold air pouring out as she stepped in.

She didn't shut it behind her; if anything had followed them in, she'd hear him yelp.

[to here very briefly; she'll be back next tag and within earshot the entire time]

"How can a whole kitchen have no tea?" Tylor couldn't understand it. Even the Raalgon Empire had something like tea. He wasn't too picky, just some tea bags would be fine, or even canned tea if that was all they could find. But even if they could make tea, he also wasn't sure where there were some mugs or tea cups.

On the plus side, Taura seemed to be agreeable about stopping to relax in a slightly less haunted atmosphere. Tea under the stars was more romantic, but a dark room would work in a pinch. The down side was that the adventurous Taura was now leaving, heading into a different room that had been sealed off. Tylor didn't call after her to come back, only blinking in consternation at the door itself as Taura disappeared behind it. What if something happened to him while she was gone? What if something happened to her, and he heard her screaming?

Fidgeting, he looked through drawers back in the kitchen. What really stuck out was the lack of sharp knives, if Tylor was completely honest. A kitchen without knives was bizarre, especially considering that Tylor would rather face a knife with a couple of frying pans than the reverse.

"Taura? Are you okay in there? Don't look around alone too long, you might get attacked by something!" Tylor's voice was not alarmed, but wavered a bit as he called around the door. Having found a competent, strong, pretty bodyguard, he wasn't keen on her disappearing into any haunted black holes.

[...I totally forgot the fridge door had a lock; for simplicities sake let's say Taura got lucky on a hard tug; she could break it easily anyway]

"I bet the medics have some in their kitchen," Taura called through the open doorway. Some things never changed. "They haven't bothered to give us any." She ignored the warning, but kept up a running monologue, one that he could hear was still calm and even. "If I had to get trapped in a prison, at least it's one that doesn't subscribe to -- hah, found it!"

Her head, quickly followed by the rest of her, popped back into sight.

"Frozen dessert. Guaranteed cure for combat nerves, if you can keep it down." Or unless he was still chilled? Tylor was still twitching, though his voice had picked an octave and was sticking with it. Good sign, maybe? Had she ever been that green?

Not a question that needed exploring. "We take what we can get, as often as we can get it, right?"

She set milk and ice cream down on the counter, and went to pull the lid off with her right hand. Four wicked little points did not retract with a twitch of a tendon, and she stared at the blades for a second. Then she sliced through the paper carton in one swift motion and peeled back the paper. It was a bit of a permanent solution, but it made a nice effect. "Spoons?"

_{[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/854714.html?thread=67885498#t67885498) and crashing your par-tay? :D?]}

When Yomi stepped into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed were the two standing by the counter. They were the only two in the room and doing nothing to hide from her light.

And what did she know, one of the errant History members, just as promised. “Taura,” she exclaimed with pleasure. With someone else, not the Himura Yomi thought was supposed to be leading the group.

She left the pipe slip through the fingers of her other hand until she was gripping it by one end; tipping it up against her shoulder, Yomi stepped away from the door and toward the counter. Was that actually a snack? Well, well. What was this, had she interrupted some midnight binge eating?

Tylor exhaled, relaxing a little, at Taura's continued talk. Not that it would keep her from getting kidnapped, but at least it'd be easier to tell. Had she been trapped in a prison before, or just seen worse conditions? Claude had acted like Tylor's time spent imprisoned by either side of the war had been odd, but maybe other universes didn't tend to lock people up for silly reasons. This universe clearly did. It was a lot like home, but the ghosts were worse.

At least his chances for coming out of the night happy had increased, especially when Taura came back with ice cream. Tylor grinned, and opened a drawer to pull out some spoons. "If I'd thought about it back in that room, I'd have said no way... but when a pretty girl asks me to eat with her, how can I turn her down? And we might need more energy to run again, too." Or for him to run and her to fight. She seemed really good with those blades, if it weren't for the fact that she kept double-taking at them. Tylor decided not to ask about that, instead asking, "Are you from Earth? I can't figure out your accent."

The idle question was interrupted by someone coming into the kitchen. Tylor turned, surprised, but it was another pretty face and she looked happy to see Taura. "Hi there! Do you like ice cream?" He offer a wave with a spoonless hand.

"Jackson's Whole," she said, her voice flicking up into the tiniest of questions. It would be nice to meet someone from home, though she doubted Tylor was. Her accent wasn't heavy, but she'd never tried to hide it. Not when every inch of her body gave away her origins. Not enough finesse for a Cetagandan design; not enough ethics for anywhere else.

"You?" But before he could answer, the first of her squad arrived. "Howdy. Tylor, this is Yomi. Yomi, Tylor. Hope you made it through the sun room unscathed. We had a little trouble." Tylor had a little trouble, but Taura was nice enough not to point that out. "We're the first ones here."

When the squad had assembled, what was she going to do with Tylor? The idea of sending him back across the sun room solo seemed both impractical and unkind, but she couldn't take him along. Could she? Picking up strays wasn't in her job description, but she couldn't just leave him, either. Well, wait and see wasn't the worst plan in the world, was it? It seemed to have an almost mystical quality of working out all right with the Dendarii, so she hopped up to sit on the counter near Tylor and waved at the ice cream and spoons. "Go ahead, if you want."

The kitchen was neither well lit nor any less dripping with negative energy, but Yomi clicked her flashlight off anyway and stuck it head-first into one of her sweater’s pockets. From where she was standing, the food they had actually seemed to be edible--that was a surprising inconsistency.

‘A little trouble’ was a relative enough way of putting it, she was sure. Yomi made an acknowledging sound, whether to the introduction, Taura’s unspoken question, her comment, or all three.

“Who doesn’t like ice cream?” was what she said. As for why the she-giant was there with ice cream in the first place, Yomi didn’t bother asking. She posed a different question once she’d come to a stop a few steps from the two. “So who’s this?”

"Jackson's what? I was born on Earth. Sorry, I guess this means we're probably not from the same 'place,' but it's fun to meet people from different places anyway." Tylor laughed a bit awkwardly, and took a spoonful of ice cream while Taura introduced him. Unsure what Yomi's second question meant, he decided it was his chance to properly introduce himself to both lovely women, especially considering that he'd stopped shaking and his voice was clear.

Standing up straight, ice cream spoon and flashlight in his right hand while he saluted with the left at both women in general, "Lieutenant Commander Justy Ueki Tylor, age 20, United Planets Space Force!" After a pause, he slumped out of the salute and added, "I'm glad you're friendly. I would have gotten eaten by that thing for sure if it hadn't been for Taura! I still don't know how I'm supposed to get back to my room now... is it still waiting in the Sun Room?"

Maybe he could just hide in here, eating ice cream with pretty girls until dawn. He'd spent nights doing much less productive things.

Lieutenant Commander? Must be a non-combat squad, since all Taura had seen Tylor do was look ornamental and enthusiastic. And while he'd been very good at both, it usually took a little more -- or a mission gone sour -- to add the Commander to a raw recruit.

"And it's Sergeant Taura, if we're being formal. Dendarii Free Mercenaries." She glanced at Tylor -- some people had funny ideas about mercenaries, and she couldn't say she blamed them.

Don't trust anyone who wants to be a soldier. The planet- or system-based groups relied on fanaticism, and mercenaries on money. Very few traded in honor; even among the Dendarii it was rare. Taura wasn't sure where she stood; she had chosen the life of a soldier. Better to be good at something than to go off and be a terrible gardener or clerk or something on one little planet for the rest of her days. It wasn't about the money, or the missions. It was about being Taura against the backdrop of the universe.

Clarity snapped into place like the autofocus kicking in on a long-distance lens. "I'll make sure you get out of here, Lieutenant Commander, before duty calls. But...if anything happens, go out the doors in the cafeteria and over the wall. It's not hard to climb." Wall-climbing seemed to figure strongly in soldier training, even when training space marines. Military traditions outlived their trainees; it was a necessity. Some of them outlived their own utility, too.

For a second, Yomi could only stare at the saluting figure. So… a straggler, then. When Taura at Tylor, Yomi looked at Taura. Human or not, typical military or not, she wasn’t oblivious to the weighty titles they were tossing around, titles that stood in opposition to first impressions.

But so many higher-ups were like that, as Yomi already knew.

At any rate, it seemed this Tylor fellow was merely looking for a safe corner to wait the nightly horrors out in. Even Yomi could understand that desire. ‘Friendly’ was also relative once the lights went out. But Taura was acting like the real deal, volunteering to coddle someone who wasn’t involved with their plans to challenge the basement. All of the club members weren’t like this, were they?

No, so far they just seemed to enjoy being late. And yet with the guy, that made a group of three…

Yomi spoke up once Taura had finished, lightening her tone in the same fashion as Tylor. “Uh huh, still there,” she said lightly, as though they weren’t talking about a jealous spectre that could do much worse than just eat a person. “Who knows what’s outside, either.” Stepping closer, she picked up a spoon and scooped it into the ice cream. Then she held it aloft between them like one would a glass. “Anyway, I think this night deserves a toast. Cheers!”

Some women were impressed by rank, some women were repulsed by it, and some women... reacted by staring or giving their own ranks. Tylor wasn't surprised to learn Taura was a soldier, but hearing she was a sergeant got his attention. The thought of her efficient, considerate but tough figure with long brown hair replaced by his Sergeant Cryburn, a grizzled older man with a white mohawk was laughable. Then again, Tylor had always felt more in common with the Marines and their practical, irreverent viewpoint than most of the officers on the ship. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Unless Yomi was bursting with the secret information that she was the youngest Admiral of her home, wherever that was. Tylor smiled around at them, taking some more of the pink-colored segment of ice cream (he was no sexist, all ice creams were equal) and nodding at the toast. "To not getting horribly killed! Cheers!"

After eating the bite, Tylor added in a grieving tone completely devoid of subtlety, "I wish they'd let us have alcohol!" He wasn't an alcoholic, but he did like it an awful lot. And it might be easier to sleep in this creepy, dark place if he could drink first. Most of all, you didn't take your dates out for ice cream unless you were 12 or they had some kind of extreme love for the stuff. In a more normal tone, he added to Taura, "I don't want to be formal if you don't. But I felt guilty, it's rude not to introduce yourself properly where I'm from, and I'd hate for you to think I was hiding something from you. If you ladies would still call me Tylor, I'd be happiest!"

Then, to Yomi, whose name had been given by Taura and who hadn't volunteered much since, including the state of the Sun Room until Tylor asked about it, "What's your favorite flavor?" She had at least said she liked ice cream, after all, so that meant they had something in common. If she didn't want to talk more about herself personally, Tylor wasn't going to try to make her.

Edited 2010-04-10 15:09 (UTC)

Taura grinned, and joined in on the toast with a scoop of vanilla. "To living to fight another day!" Toasting with ice cream beat alcohol -- it didn't dull her reflexes or make her more apt to say something awkward. She didn't avoid the stuff completely; bars were the natural habitat of off-duty soldiers, no matter where in the universe you went, but she'd never found the...enthusiasm some had for the effects.

Then she went back to trying different combinations of flavors. She didn't know much about Yomi either, and she was curious to see what Tylor could turn up. The woman clearly shared her impatience with the way this mission was proceeding, but two out of two full investigation squads and no command staff didn't strike her as enough to start getting creative.

To…

What exactly would her toast be, now that they were making them? The others’, they were all well and good for the ones that had made them, but they didn’t apply to her. And the spirit of cheering no longer came to her, not unless it was from the sesshouseki--a hot rush, something like contentment the as she watched light fade from human eyes.

But Yomi had started it, and she knew how she would end it. She smiled at her spoon.

To the future that just left my sight.

As the man began talking once more, Yomi lowered her arm, and after awhile put the spoon in her mouth. The ice cream went down tasteless. At Tylor’s so-called guilt over secret-keeping, a smile grew around the utensil before she pulled it out. "Fine by me," Yomi said, who didn’t care either way. Space exploration and the like were better left to movies, and so were the people who claimed to do it.

She was ready to put aside the fun and games and suggest heading down to the basement herself, if not with them, but then they were both looking at her, waiting for her to answer a question. Well, well, well. Offhandedly, Yomi played along, pretending to think about it with such a drawn-out sound of contemplation it seemed as though she were trying to puzzle out a koan. "Ahhh, that’s too hard! How can a person be expected to decide that."

[From here. Hi guys!]

"Having a pleasant time, I take it?"

Homura had moved away from his group, and now approached the three standing around with a purposeful gait. When he came close enough, he could hear their toasts more clearly, and could catch the faint scent of their sweets, and each new piece that make the picture clearer only sharpened his anger. They had struggled so hard to make use of what time they had. They had risked their lives for weapons, supplies, each tiny piece of information that might bring them closer to freedom. And just earlier that very day, Homura watched his closest friend hunched over, subjected to a disease that would eat away at his life, his strength, and his pride--

And then he came across this. Perhaps they had meant nothing by it, this innocent encounter. But Homura could feel a rage that he hadn't experienced in centuries at the sight of it.

"Himura and Kamiya aren't here. Is one of you Hayashi?" Homura moved his eyes from the man's face to the other woman's. It didn't matter. He turned his gaze toward Taura then, mismatched eyes narrowing in the dark. "I'd like to know just what you're doing here. I've never rejected requests for nights off, but when you sign up for an assignment, I expect you to work for that goal!"

Homura didn't wait for an answer. He didn't want an answer yet; what could possibly give reason to this madness? "How long have you stood here just waiting? Tonight is an experimentation night, in case you haven't considered that. Do you know if they were taken? Did they leave you a message saying to expect them to be delayed? Are you so sure that any room in this prison is safe enough for you to let down your guard so completely? Because if you are looking to simply stagnate and die, then I don't need to waste my resources on either of you."

Edited 2010-04-13 07:04 (UTC)

[Taura and Tylor swapping places for this round.]

As Homura launched into his lecture, Taura hopped down from the counter into parade rest. If there had been a way for her posture to become more correct as he continued, she would have taken it; as it was, the only motion she made was the occasional sweep of the room for incoming. Because she hadn't dropped her guard -- she didn't need to prowl a room to watch it.

"Where I come from, there's a difference between showing initiative and deliberately deserting an assigned post. Sir. Two people, neither in command and neither briefed," she said, hoping that was an accurate description of Yomi's status, "did not, in my estimation, make critical mass to proceed with the mission. If you believe three does, I am ready to proceed."

She thought about adding that they hadn't been in the kitchen very long, by their own internal perception. Or that there were several rescue squads, if the day's messages were to be believed, and anyone missing the assignment would be out of commission for the night. It was a ruthless arithmetic, but it was the one that counted.

No, she'd leave it there. One reason is justification. Two are excuses. She Except there was one explanation that seemed necessary. "Sir, this is Tylor. He ran into a...little trouble in the Sun Room, and I couldn't just leave him there." She turned to Tylor, a deliberate, open smile on your face. "But he's all right now, aren't you?" She wasn't at all sure of Tylor's capabilities to do anything other than panic and look helpless, but she didn't need to let him know that. Confidence could do remarkable things, and maybe a little propping up would do the trick. She cocked her head, as if appraising him, and added, "He can take care of himself. Just go back the long way around if you need to, yeah?" She ended it with the sort of smile that appealed to certain deep human instincts -- a gender-specific impulse that she'd never completely understood the root of. Maybe they'd clipped it out of her, taking it away to make room for a few extra percentages of muscle mass. But she'd use the hand she'd been dealt, and if masculine pride would see Tylor home, that was for the best.

Tylor had been watching Yomi for her answer, mostly ignoring other patients that had wandered along and ignored them in turn. It was a surprise when a man actually came up, but much less surprise when he spoke to them to explain how irresponsible they were being.

Tylor blinked, still holding a spoon in his free hand, glancing nervously between Taura, the newcomer and Yomi. He didn't know what most of the man's words meant, although it wasn't very hard to put together with context that they were part of a group and had some mission that was on hold. As Taura explained what had happened, Tylor squinted at Homura's figure in the dark, not recognizing him. All parties wound up coming to an end, anyway.

This was heading disconcertingly quickly to a situation where he'd be alone in the dark again, even though the look Taura gave him was nice. More than nice, alluring. Asking for help again might be pushing it. So Tylor stood up next to Taura, only to bow at the waist with emphatic force but without much rigid dignity, lowering his head.

"I'm sorry! This is all my fault. I'm new here, and I got attacked by some sort of monster ghost demon thing in the Sun Room. Taura rescued me, and was trying to help me calm down. Then her friend arrived just now, so we were all sort of saying hello and I guess I was flirting a little." Tylor stood up in a position that was a little too grovelling to be straight, gesturing at both women while giving Homura a hapless, guilty expression. "I didn't know they had an important mission. If you're angry at anybody, it should be me."

After all, unlike Taura, he didn't know who the man was or care about his opinion. It didn't seem as if he'd get to keep his bodyguard at this rate, but at least he'd gotten directions back to his quarters and some ice cream.

Edited 2010-04-13 17:25 (UTC)

Others had come in, causing Yomi to turn around to face them. When her eyes landed on Homura, she guessed at once who it was, and not due to the physical indicators. She hadn’t seen a god before, didn’t believe in them so far as an unimpeachable divinity went, but he resonated on a level different from the unearthly beings Yomi was familiar with. He was new, and not dismissible. So this was a war god. In a way, she’d been hoping that was how the eminent History Club leader would be, having not encountered him face-to-face before. She wasn’t disappointed.

But in that moment she wasn’t struck by a sense of the celestial when he opened his mouth and his reprimand began to border on a tirade in its emotionality. Of course good leaders couldn’t be expected to tolerate feeble behavior in the ones under them—that wasn’t how masters molded tools of fate like Yomi, like Kagura—yet in this instance the dressing-down didn’t match the circumstances. It came from elsewhere. Perhaps, by the physics of Landel’s, a god’s form could be modified to take on more human qualities. Because this was a human delivery.

Expression blanking out of her mien, she accepted the rake of his gaze and said, "That’s me," when the question came, remaining silent in between the rest of the talking, gaze lowered just enough to seem compliant.

Someone who appeared to do little vetting for competency and experience didn’t have room to chide his members for a lack of them later. It might have been a different story for Taura, had she been an old enough member to have known or worked with Homura before as he seemed to imply, but her response made Yomi think otherwise. Since Yomi herself was neither guilty of the unspoken charges nor a beneficiary of any ‘resources’, she couldn’t be included in most of what he was telling them off for—the spirit of it, though, that she would acknowledge. God or not, the possibility of resources still sounded good enough to her that she was encouraged to show contriteness.

So that was it. Homura had seen and worked with those in the military enough to recognize their kind, and the ones who never moved beyond the mindset of a soldier. Homura had been forced into the position of Toushin Taishi, but he had taken that title and made it one he was proud to hold, because he fought his war for his purpose. Taura, however, seemed content to follow orders, and only act within them. That wasn't the sort of spirit that Homura needed, and ultimately, perhaps it came down to the wording he chose on the bulletin. An interest in military application, certainly--but Homura also needed those who would willfully spark a rebellion if that was where their purpose led.

The notion of Taura's altruism also didn't impress Homura. Perhaps she'd missed those notes that said the History Club was one focused on their own interests, and Homura's agreement. He addressed Tyler briefly, his tone clipped and dismissive. "You're responsible for your own weakness, but not for her choices." Someone that had needed to be rescued, that hadn't learned enough from the day to prepare himself for the horrors of the night wasn't likely to be of value in the long run. As for Hayashi, she had identified herself, but said nothing, and offered nothing in explanation for her own actions. So in turn, Homura ignored her, and instead committed her reaction to memory for use in making decisions later. "Taura, if you want to be a hero who blindly follows orders--who uses those orders as an excuse? Then there are other organizations here you should join. But relying on the wisdom and strength of others in place of your own is foolishness. If you can't think for yourself, then I don't need you."

It might seem strange, considering how weak they'd all become in this prison. But Homura's philosophy remained unchanged. He'd long learned that relying on others in place of acting yourself truly was madness. Altruism, the mercy of the gods, fate? A fool's methods that would never earn Homura's approval, much less his respect. That sort of mindlessness put the course of a person's life in the hands of another, for their pleasure, and Homura had seen firsthand just where that led.

Taura moved, slowly and deliberately inching muscles out of precision into a relaxed pose. Anyone who knew where to look would see she was no less coiled to spring at anything coming into the room, but it took looking She leaned back on the counter, folded her arms -- carefully, as doing so while wearing a set of claws took precision coordination -- and claimed several inches more space in each direction. "Do you think I would follow the orders of a commander I thought unworthy of the title? I agreed with them. Show up when and where you agreed to, and leave the rescues to those suited for nothing else. Apparently they were too difficult for everyone else."

Her eyes flashed in the dark as she cocked her head. "I've waited enough. I don't have time to wait." There was a catch in her voice as she said it, one she'd never quite hammered out. Maybe Homura did. Maybe all of them had the patience to outlast Landel at siege pace, but not Taura. Every day, and every night had to be precious, and if Homura didn't realize her time was a gift, she would find someone who would.

Then she put actions before more words, and strode over to the door of the refrigeration unit, covering more ground with each step than was strictly necessary. She made one final concession; she held it open for the others rather than passing through immediately.

Scott had been thrown for a loop when the intercom came on and the Head Douchebag started going on about some of the secrets behind his plan. "Started" being the keyword. They barely got any kind of useful information before the voice crackled out again. Project Next-Wave? War? What the— Either Gideon's way older or more sci-fi than I thought, or . . . Scott shook his head. He wasn't going to give up on the Landel = Maybe Gideon theory just yet. That kind of infodump could be just something Gideon wanted to put out there to throw Scott off. Although, maybe, just maybe, he was a little more open now to the idea that Landel could just be some random dude. Disturbing as that idea was.

"What, his 'MUHAHA'ing on the intercom in general, or just the spouting off plans bit? The first one, yeah, pretty much. Second one, not really," he answered, looking around the room with Logan (god, he still couldn't get over that!). He didn't recognize anyone else in the room so far, and they all seemed pretty set on doing what they were doing, so Scott didn't bother them.

While Logan checked around for items, Scott wandered over a little further toward the other side of the room. His flashlight beam crossed over a heavy-looking door in the back. Probably some big freezer, he thought. Then he paused. Freezer. Why is that ringing a bell? He tilted his head, trying to remember for a few moments before a light went on in his brain. "Oh right! The basement!" he suddenly said to himself.

On one hand it wasn't too surprising that a kitchen in a mental hospital would lock up the knives when they weren't in use, but on the other hand, Logan really wasn't keen on stabbing himself with a goddamn butter knife. He tossed one back in the drawer it had come from and looked up as Scott spoke.

Normally he would've been able to catch that - hearing was dead too - but he came up next to the kid and pointed his flashlight beam at the same door. Looked like a freezer, but there wouldn't really be a reason to wander around a meat locker at night, so maybe not. "What's in there?" he asked.

"A basement," Scott repeated, keeping his flashlight trained on the freezer door. "Or at least that's what I'm told. I was asking around about the entrance to the super-secret basement dungeon to this place, and someone said that there was a loose panel or something in the freezer that leads to it."

Confirming what Scott had been told, he watched as some of the others approached the freezer door and jiggered their way into it. "I'm betting that's where those guys are headed. You wanna check it out?" he asked, turning back to Logan. He wasn't sure if they ought to be going in with just the two of them (really one-and-a-half of them, considering Scott still had two limbs not in full working condition), but he was really, really curious.

Logan watched the other three go through the door and decided that, beyond a sharp knife and Kurt, a basement was exactly the kind of thing he was looking for. Especially if the only way to get to it was a secret door in the freezer; it practically screamed 'suspicious, investigate.'

Well, either that or it screamed 'trap,' but they were too close and Logan was too interested to worry about where that information had come from.

"Yeah, I do," he said, moving ahead of Scott.

[From here]

At last. They were only one room away from the freezer where the trap door was hidden, and Homura allowed himself a brief, satisfied smirk as he stepped into the kitchen. Of course the noise immediately put him on edge, if only because something so resembling cheer was foreign after darkness fell on their prison. But one of those voices Homura recognized, and in the light of the flashlights, he also saw a familiar silhouette clearly enough to make him tighten his grip on his sword.

"Go on ahead." Kenren and Okita would know that if Homura was pulling out at this late hour, it would be for good reason; the soft note of displeasure in his words would tell them the rest. "In the freezer on the far right, there should be a door that leads down. I'll likely rejoin you soon." With at least one strangler, perhaps more, if Hayashi was among the pair Homura didn't know. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked toward the elder god in particular. "Teresa can hopefully make use of that sword I gave you. I'll trust you to find a moment to give it to her, my friend."

Then with a nod, he moved over to the party who seemed all too content for Homura's liking.

[To here]

Teresa liked how the group moved together, quiet, focused. Efficient. Her silver eyes narrowed when she picked up on Homura's reaction. Someone was going to be very unhappy right now.

Silently perking up at the mention of a sword, the warrior nodded. She already knew the way to the basement, having been there the night before, so she decided to take the lead.

"I have been this way before," she said, eyes flickering once to Homura before leading the way past the others and into the cold storage.

[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/856989.html)

Night 48: Kitchen

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Sorry, guys! Work's been killer.