damned_institute | Nightshift 49: M1-M10 Hallway

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Nightshift 49: M1-M10 Hallway

[from here and outside M4.]

"Haseo?" Endrance knocked once, having finally seemed to learn his lesson about just walking into M4 without knocking or stating his identity first. Once he'd knocked, though, the nerves really set in. What if Haseo wasn't there? What if he'd been taken again? What if --

Stop. Stop that line of thought. He said he needed you...and he'll be here. He'll be here, and if he's not, then you need to pull it together...for his sake. You can't be there if you're falling apart...

He took a deep breath, bracing with one hand against the wall, and waited. A few minutes would tell the story, either way. He could be patient that long.

[for Haseo.]

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Even if Hanatarou doubted that anyone would show up, there was still always that chance. And if he went charging off into the hallways by himself he imagined that Sora would object, especially after all the times that he had expressed concern about his roommate. As the intercom came to life he quickly moved to get his bag and sword from the closet; he had to get them before the lights went out, since he still hadn't managed to fix his flashlight. Maybe he should look into that tonight, if he had time.

As the announcement ended, however, he paused, absently twisting the chest band of his healer's bag in his hands. "They did the sleep studies last night, didn't they?" he asked, sounding worried. "Why is it two nights in a row?" Maybe he should be heading upstairs to find the experiment rooms. Would the Search and Rescue group be going?

With all the head doctor had to say, Sora could only feel his concern growing with each word spoken. It made sense that Hanatarou focused in on the news that was the most obviously threatening, but the other boy also brought up a good point. Was there some reason that they were doubling up on the experimentation? It was bad enough that it happened so often, but why was there no Special Counseling this time?

"I don't know," he admitted with a frown as he turned on his flashlight and aimed it at Hanatarou. "But I don't think he's going to tell us, either." Maybe someone else would, though? With that thought in mind, the boy grabbed for his radio. He wiped some dust off of it and then looped the strap around his wrist, and with that he was all set.

The storm did put him on edge a bit; they could hear the thunder, even from here, and he wondered if it was some kind of omen for things to come. The mention of visitors also had his head spinning, but Sora knew that waiting around in their room wasn't going to give him any answers. He needed to go meet up with Neku and see if they could catch Kairi in the process.

"I hope someone shows up tonight," he told his roommate with a small smile. "But if no one does, don't go out alone, okay?" Sora was sure that Hanatarou already knew that, but there was nothing wrong with a friendly reminder, was there?

With that taken care of, the Keyblade Master waved to his friend before heading out the door and down the hall.

[To here.]

Don't go out alone, okay?

Hanatarou winced slightly as he glanced in the direction of the door, hoping that either someone actually did show up or Sora simply didn't find out that he hadn't listened to good advice. Advice that he knew perfectly well he should follow, too, but...well, he couldn't just hang around here all night, could he? Not when there were people who had to need help upstairs.

The healer sighed and settled his bag into place, then slid his sword and its improvised sheath at his waist by feel. There wasn't any point in bringing the flashlight, since it hadn't worked in a while, but that was certainly going to complicate matters. Hopefully anyone he ran into would have their own light.

It couldn't be helped, though. He decided he was as ready as he was going to get and closed the closet door, then carefully made his way toward the exit. He knew this room pretty well by now, at least.

Tsukasa woke up when his stomach growled, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Oh hell, he'd crashed hard when he'd got back hadn't he? Probably from spending the entire day paranoid that night was going to fall and he was going to get attacked by hordes of the undead. Again.

He really wished that he didn't have cause to ever say that sentence outside of a video game. He hated his life right now. Really.

But he could mooch around in his room all night and fail at sleeping more, or he could get up and try to do something useful. The second was much more appealing, especially after last night. The feeling of having achieved something was still there.

He pulled on his sneakers and hurried out of the room. He knocked hesitantly on Hanatarou's door, not entirely sure that the other boy would even be in the room. "Hey... it's Tsukasa... if you're there because if not I'm going to feel really stupid."

Just as Hanatarou was fumbling for the latch that he knew had to be right around there somewhere someone knocked on the door, startling the shinigami into taking a step back. When he'd told Sora that someone might come by he hadn't actually expected it to happen, but apparently...it had. And Tsukasa? Wasn't that the boy with the red markingss on his face?

Indeed it was, he discovered upon opening the door and offering a somewhat startled-looking smile to his visitor. "I, er, was just on my way out," he offered, with a hint of relief. "I, I wanted to go upstairs. If...you wanted to come? Too?" And then he wouldn't be off by himself and would have another healer along if they ran into somebody who needed them.

Wow, Hanatarou looked really kind of baffled when he opened the door, but at least he was there and Tsukasa hadn't wasted his time knocking at the door to an empty room. He smiled in return, feeling a touch of relief himself. "I um... I thought you might want another healer again," Tsukasa said with a soft, awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "And um, I'd like to come if that's okay with you." It would be better than wandering around on his own again, getting lost and probably attacked and eaten.

"Oh, of course." Hanatarou's smile turned a bit more genuine, though still a bit shy. He didn't really know Tsukasa except for the fact that the boy was a healer, but he seemed nice enough, and the company was certainly welcome. He stepped out of the door and closed it behind him, then nodded down the dark hallway. "The intercom, er, said that they're doing experiments. Again. So...we might be needed, upstairs."

[and off to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/882475.html?thread=69133867#t69133867)]

Had to give it to the Head Doctor. He'd got the whole whacked-out evil guy act down to a science.

Dean tugged on his clothes and, rummaging through the bottom of the closet, came up with his duffel bag. The bowie knife was in there, the point of it still chipped when he'd tried to stab that bloodsucker the other night and the worst of that whole thing was not knowing where it'd run off to - there was no way he'd killed it, but it'd acted like it'd actually hurt, which was a new one. He paused before he stepped out the door, touching the side of his neck with his hand. It hadn't spread, not as far as he could tell, but that weird feel of cold hadn't gone away, either. Sticking a finger in his mouth, he ran it along his teeth, almost gingerly. Nope. No baby fangs or nothin'. Felt just as human as he always did, thank God. Still, he couldn't just pretend it was totally okay.

Didn't mean he was looking forward to asking Sam to take a look at it. There was only so much he could feel out with his fingers and no mirror.

Dean stopped to swap out the batteries in his own flashlight, hitched the duffel bag over his shoulder, and stepped out of M2.

[To here]

Edited 2010-05-16 04:55 (UTC)

Renovations, reconstruction, reiteration? Just what the factor did the head hectopascal things he was up to now? Not that Sho cared - no matter what the problem, he'd solve it all with ease. Fractions, fractals, integers and irrationals, he could take it all.

Arming up his jacket with megaphone and lighter*aerosol binomial combination, he took the paper-cutter arm in one hand and duct-taped his flashlight to the other. Right, now he was ready to go. Armed and ~~deranged~~ dangerous, Sho set off into the night.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/886165.html?thread=69141653#t69141653)]

Edited 2010-05-16 23:16 (UTC)

What the hell was "renovations" supposed to mean? Haseo didn't know, but immediately his thoughts went to the night the walls had begun to glitch- perhaps a harmless enough thing on their own, but that had been the same night that-- later, people had died. Obviously the memory was still one the Rogue preferred unaccessed.

However, naturally those concerns didn't have long to stew before the second announcement of the evening sounded and layered on more. As if 'visitors' again wasn't bad enough, mention of the event coupled with the offhand comment about seeing them "sooner" was enough to put yet another nervous edge on Haseo's demeanor. What if Ovan or Shino (fake-Shino?) were somewhere out there?

No matter... right? But even though Haseo tried to control it, he was still in a terribly negative mood as he got ready to leave his room. When that knock came though, he was at the door immediately, the thought of his former roommate's reaction that first time Endrance had shown up very clear in his mind. There wasn't any need for that kind of conversation again, especially since--

"Hey," he said, stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him. Cutting to the chase, he held out the shortsword he'd reclaimed the previous night with the hilt towards the Blade Brandier... which he regretted immediately. It wasn't that he expected Endrance to stab him or anything, but the moment of over-familiarity with an object that was in the end still a dangerous object caused him a flash of awkwardness.

"... Let's go."

Endrance merely nodded, knowing better than to ask whether Haseo was sure about all of this. If he wasn't, he would have said something. But...there was no denying the feeling of being on edge, he thought, as he took the sword with a single small bow. The Blade Brandier really couldn't blame him. He was just as on edge, having only just thought of that night the walls glitched and he'd...

That night he had died. He was just as sure of that as he was sure of anything else. But in the morning, there hadn't even been a scar, no blood in his hair, nothing to suggest it.

The word 'visitors' was more worrying, and Endrance almost said something about it, but for a second time, held his tongue. What could he say?

"...right...and don't worry. I'm not going to fall apart again."

That was all he really could say - besides one thing.

"Where...?"

"Of course," Haseo answered promptly, if a bit flat. He halfway wanted to assure the man of what he'd said, but... yeah, not falling apart was pretty much what everyone hoped for during the night anyway, right? There wasn't really any guarantee when it came to the sort of stuff that went on after dark, anyway. It was difficult enough to resist just barricading oneself in a room and waiting for morning, but in the end voluntary complacency was not an option for Haseo, regardless of how many times the place kept trying to kick him down.

It didn't help that Endrance still looked a little rough around the edges though... perhaps only a small amount considering the level of stress he was surely under, but it seemed a stark contrast to the PC's normally infallible beauty. That bothered Haseo a little, and coupled with the previous desire to avoid getting caught up by his new roommate, he made to move quickly. He re-balanced his center of gravity and stepped away from the door, eyes going aside.

At first the question only got a slightly testy sigh in response, but after he'd gotten most of the way down the hallway, Haseo thought quickly and decided to add on more. "Pretty sure I can spell my name now. I want those damn files."

[ To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/882232.html?thread=69280824#t69280824). ]

Sprawled across his bed with his dinner barely touched, Shikamaru tapped his pen against the blank page of his journal. It was a nervous habit, he knew, but not his nervous habit--he didn't have nervous habits, since they required a type of anxiety that had never been part of his personality. There were times he could have remained calmer, sure, but they were all matters of life and death, usually not his life and death, and never matters of pens and paper.

Though, in a less immediate manner, this was a matter of life of death too. Hence the appropriation of nervous habits. He switched to chewing the end of his pen, which was equally ineffective. There was no point in assuming his usual thinking position--he'd thought this through already. Now, it was just a matter of choosing words.

Regardless of the likelihood of success, he tested, it's essential that the others believe their given tasks will ultimately lead to a return to Konoha, and it's essential that they're constantly under orders. A perceived lack of leadership drives them to work independently, often recklessly and sometimes alone.

Shikamaru tore out the page, crumpled it, and chucked it into the wastebasket where it joined the others he'd penned during dinner. There was no way to do his without sounding insolent, especially since he hadn't been asked for a report. Again, he rubbed his head--the worst of the headache had passed once he'd decided on his course of action, but its residue remained, blurring the lights and causing a vague sense of vertigo and nausea.

When the intercom crackled and darkness flooded the room, he reached for his flashlight and pushed the switch forward. Maybe if he moved quickly enough, he could make it to Kakashi's room and talk about this in person before Sakura showed up. Not ideal, but nothing about this situation was ideal.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/884737.html?thread=69202945#t69202945)]

Edited 2010-05-17 18:51 (UTC)

Tobias woke up screaming.

The grinding, crunching burn of morphing was something he hadn't felt in days, now-- he kept on falling asleep, being blissfully unaware of any transformation but not tonight, Tonight, unprepared, unbraced, he screamed as fire swept over his skin, his feathers bursting out of him in great chunks, his fingers melting away before he could thrash the bedsheets away, and then he was a hawk, shudderingly huddled in a mess of sheets and panting.

< Ugh, > he said, quietly, and ripped his way out of the bedsheets with talons and beak, too shaky to try morphing back to human. Ugh. He was hungry, too, and he hopped unsteadily to his desk, tilting his head to examine the food with one golden eye. Indian food, it looked like-- and smelled like-- and he plucked a few chunks of meat out of the curry, swallowing them whole, then resting for a moment, letting the psychosomatic ache in his chest fade.

He could focus enough to morph back to human, he thought, but he wasn't sure he wanted to, right now. He hadn't been ready for nightfall, and the unbraced pain had shaken him-- he was pretty sure he could get the door open, if he had to, with his talons and beak.

With some experimentation-- he could, yeah, and he flit out into the hall, hopping and fluttering along, ignoring anyone else. Nothing to see here, just a little red-tail without a mission.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/886165.html)]

All in all, Terry hadn't found the field trip to be too bad. Not exactly the pinnacle of success, but nothing spectacularly terrible had happened. Given how horrible things could get in Hospital Hell, Terry could almost think of it as a good day. Of course, thinking about it like that made him feel a bit pathetic, but he was determined to change that.

He got into his Batsuit quickly when the intercom started, but he didn't like the sound of what he heard. Visitors, that they might be seeing tonight? The danger that the patients were put in on a regular basis was bad enough, but now the bastard was going to draw more innocent people into it. And on top of that, he was way too happy about the reconstruction for Terry to feel at ease. So far, it definitely sounded like it was going to be an interesting night.

"Did you have plans to meet anyone tonight?" Terry moved to the door once he was in costume, only opening it just enough to peer outside. He needed to make sure the way was clear while Kurt finished getting ready, but he didn't exactly want to make it obvious that Batman was sticking his head out of M1. Bad enough he'd be walking out of the room that way. "I want to finally make it upstairs--but even if we don't tonight, we probably need to focus on something else that might help us figure out this place." Not that Terry had a clue about what that might be, aside from the downstairs that Logan had mentioned. Still, it had to be better than trying (and failing) to get to the same chemical closet every night.

"Sounds like a plan," Kurt said, notably more cheery since reconnecting with Logan. Now he only needed to find out what Kitty had been up to and where she was. His tail flicked happily behind him as he pulled the familiar yellow gloves on and flexed his fingers in them. He didn't know why, but he was feeling more stable, more like Nightcrawler, since Logan had come back. It was time to get back in the game. None of this carting around the handtruck stuff or wandering around aimlessly in the dark.

"Maybe we should leave the cart behind tonight?" Kurt said, bounding up to Terry's side so he could look out the door as well. "I mean, maybe it would be a better plan to get up there tonight without it. Then I can teleport back there tomorrow night and raid it without having to carry it up the stairs."

...Note to self, McGinnis. Next time, find out just how your roommate's powers work. "That actually sounds perfect, but only if you can teleport more than just yourself." Not that Terry was looking forward to that sort of instant transportation; it hadn't been all that long ago that Terry'd taken his first (and if there was any mercy in the world, his last) ride in a Boom Tube. Short version? He hated Boom Tubes.

But while he'd been willing to let Kurt handle the task of getting a handtruck alone, Terry wasn't so keen on the idea of doing the same with dangerous chemicals. He wasn't an expert on the materials themselves, but he had some experience trying to fight while avoiding the container of deadly poisons and waste. It wasn't easy, and there wasn't any telling how Kurt would handle himself in such a situation.

"All right. Let's get going then." Terry waited until no one seemed to be in the immediate vicinity; one of the benefits of having a room next to a dead end. He moved quietly out of the door, and stuck to the shadows as he made his way down the hall, trying to keep his use of a flashlight to a minimum.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/882232.html?thread=69190200#t69190200)]

It was official. Junpei's new roommate was boring. He was so boring, Junpei just grabbed his sword after plunking his hat on and left without a word. Not that his roommate would have cared. A Twinkie would have cared more.

[to here] (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/882232.html?page=2#comments)

Howl sighed heavily at the announcement, as if it were not terrifying and threatening in the least. In truth, it sat in his stomach like a cold stone, and he suspected it would remain there for some time to come.

Visitors. The nurses (before sedating him) had suggested his sister might appear to visit him, but he desperately hope that she would not. If anyone asked, Howl would have explained at length Megan's unpleasant disposition, but that was becoming less of a concern with each passing day. He missed her. He missed the quiet moments in which they would forget to hate one another, and talk about their parents, or her children. He loved the times when he would be gone for weeks, months, and she would be more relieved than angry when he appeared on her doorstep. It never lasted long, unfortunately.

As Howl discarded his clothes for the mysterious suit (he supposed that he ought to discuss it with Ryuuzaki at some point), he hoped that she was back in her home, safe and sound. Her family would be upset, of course, if he withered away here, his body finally giving out to his lack of a vital organ, but his memory would fade. They would recall him mournfully, and explain to blossoming friends about the disappearance of their charming, unusual Uncle Howell, and how it darkened their past. Surely his genius had led him down some dark path! They would miss him, as he missed them now.

As for those he left behind in Ingary... Howl had to wonder, could Calcifer live off his heart, even with Howl so far away? It seemed possible, but unlikely, for when that heart stopped beating, Calcifer would go out like a snuffed candle. He was sorry for that. The one soul that tolerated him (although not quite by choice) would be punished for it with death, which Calcifer had feared enough to make a deal with a wizard to prevent. He knew at least that Sophie would care for Michael, and that sooner or later she would meet some fine young man and grow tired of being old. That left a bitter taste in his mouth, which he quickly excused as frustration over his inability to force her out of the curse. Mad old woman.

Howl was now fully dressed, blond and armed with his kitchen knife wrapped up in his pocket. Although he suffered a lack of a mirror, he could tell that this place was making him dull. His plumage grayed, his hair no longer shone, and his eyes looked increasingly glassy and lifeless. Luckily, it was as gloomy as ever out in the dark hallway, so no one would see him fading.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/882232.html?thread=69413688#t69413688).]

Edited 2010-05-20 16:31 (UTC)

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Nightshift 49: M1-M10 Hallway

M7

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Leaving M2

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M4- ROOM OF DEATH(!!)

deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeath.

TERROOOOORRRRR

M3

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