Night 49: M81-M90 Hallway

[threepwood]

[M85]

All right! One pair of sweats and two pairs of underpants later, and Guybrush had an ingenious way to carry everything he needed. "Just one more thing," he said to himself as he wrapped the pants-sash over his shoulder like a beauty pageant winner. Grabbing his beloved shovel, he carefully slid the long handle through the loops provided by the knotted undergarments. The shovel stayed in place, strapped to his back.

"Hah! Take that, broken clothing! Guybrush: one, clothing: three! Or maybe four. Close enough." He beamed at his own resourcefulness, proud of his major achievement so early in the evening. Sure, it looked a little silly (and his nurse was going to throw a fit if inexplicably he ran out of underwear in the middle of the week), but it was practical. No more juggling to carry everything- the shovel could go on his back, sword in his hand, and flashlight carried in his hook.

Pleased with his new invention, he had one more quick task before he could depart. "Well Scott," Guybrush said, turning to his still-sleeping roommate, "It's been great catching up with you, but I've got a sword to return. You sure you're going to be all right by yourself in here?"

Continued snoozing from the mighty bassist. "Hopefully, the room won't set itself ablaze and you won't die a painful, fiery death. Or maybe you'll wake up if that does happen. Either way, I'll probably come back here after I swing by Javert's. You know, just to make sure."

With that, Guybrush snatched the flashlight from atop his desk and headed out the door.

[The Dread Pirate LeChuck!]

Comments

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

LeChuck raised an eybrow - this was getting stranger and stranger. Something had affected the boy's memory, or somehow he was talking to him from an earlier time. It mostly concerned LeChuck in how he might have been affected - other than, obviously, being voodoo-free again.

"Guybrush, ye've been dead for months. I've been terrorizing the Caribbean and wooing Elaine, and the last the thing I remember-" he stopped to consider how much he should say; he needn't reveal the details of his own defeat to his worst enemy, especially if he didn't remember himself, "-was you coming back as a spirit to try to stop me."

[threepwood]

"I what??" Guybrush asked incredulously. As cool as returning from the dead as a spirit sounded, the news that he'd died, been dead, and came back as a spirit come as a bit of a shock. Then again, this admission was from his nemesis. Anything he said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

Guybrush had to admit that it did sort of explain how he couldn't remember actually arriving at the aforementioned institution. Not really, but 'I've been dead for months, which is plenty of time to haul a body elsewhere and use Voodoo stuff to bring them from the brink of death' made slightly more sense than 'I got stabbed and miraculously didn't die because of some combination of plot armor and complete ineptitude on LeChuck's part and was brought to a creepy asylum for reasons unknown because escaping Monkey Island is a specialty of mine.'

Guybrush gave LeChuck a suspicious glare as he circled him. He really did seem completely human... for now. The mighty pirate crossed his arms stiffly. "I still think your story is bogus. And you're still a jerk. I could maybe buy into the angle that this is some sort of bizarro pirate Hell, but if I've supposedly been dead for months and been here the whole time- and believe me, I've only been here a few days, not months- then how could I show up as a spirit later? I'm pretty sure my ghost and my body can't be in two places at once."

... Unless what Javert said about this place bringing people back from the dead was true. He drew his own conclusion: "Or maybe I did die, was dead for months and a ghost, brought here and revived through some method I don't think I want to know about, and just don't remember the being dead part." Leave it to LeChuck to show up and complicate everything.

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

Suspicion was reasonable, but this was just getting obnoxious.

"How the blazes should I know! I haven't been here an hour! Why am I human and not coursing with more voodoo energy than the world has ever seen before? We all got problems!"

Although, messing with the flow of time wasn't totally unheard of - he'd heard about the Mysts o' Tyme Marshe. But the important how and why were still missing. Or perhaps it had to do with their own deaths, seeing as time is relative to the dead in the Crossroads (it didn't explain how Guybrush could end up here and in the Crossroads, though)

"This ain't no pirate afterlife I've ever seen, anyway." He didn't sound very sure of himself, given the evidence, but it was true and he'd done more research than most into voodoo and the art of being dead.

"So, Steep-good, if you're such an expert, why did the doors unlock? What's the point of all this hospital nonsense if we can just leave?"

[threepwood]

Guybrush kept his arms crossed, still not sure he believed what LeChuck was saying. He had to admit that if there was anyone who'd be an expert in complicated workings of the pirate afterlife, it would definitely be LeChuck. He'd experienced it in every way conceivable by now (as well as in some ways that only entered the 'conceivable' list because of his exploits). Still... he sounded like he could be telling the truth this time.

"As far as I know, the doors like that open every night," he answered. "Leaving is hard, nurses become monsters or something- I wasn't really listening when most people were telling me about this place. They said some guy named Landel runs the show, but I kiiind of thought that might be another one of your lame disguises and that I could handle whatever you had planned with the only hand I have left tied behind my back."

He put his hand and hook on his waist. "Look," he said irritably, "Elaine isn't here, I've got stuff to do, and you said yourself that you're not coursing with Voodoo anymore and you don't look like you could hurt me much at this point. It's been nice talking to you, but I'm gonna get going."

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

Oh, that was it. He had tried to be civil, but even after giving up some much-needed information, there was always just something about Guybrush that grated on LeChuck. Even if he thought the boy could be useful, he couldn't help but try to torture him.

So, he grinned patronizingly. "Of course, what can I do without my voodoo? I'm just a helpless mortal, just ask that friend of yours - what was her name, Mo-something? Of course, she was looking a little pale the last time I saw her."

[threepwood]

"Morgan," Guybrush corrected, the cogs in his mind turning. What was LeChuck getting at? He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. "But what would you know about her? She was murdered by that creep, De Singe. And then he got sucked into his own machine and shredded horribly, so since she's been avenged, Mo can rest in peace. And in De Singe's case, pieces."

He kept his arms crossed, still eyeing LeChuck warily. Why would he bring up Morgan? If LeChuck was telling the truth and he really was from the future or something, had he seen Morgan's spirit as well? Time travel made everything obnoxiously complicated. Or maybe... nah.

Getting the vibe that LeChuck was about to start blabbering about his latest plans of how he intended to do some long-distance wooing and take out his greatest enemy from within the walls of the asylum, Guybrush turned away from him. "I don't have time to listen to your boring lectures tonight, LeChuck," he called over his shoulder. "You've got plenty of institution to wander around without pestering me. While I'm sure you'd love to see me dead again- and that's if I really did die in the first place, mind you- it should be obvious that there's not much you can do here, so see ya. Farewell. So long. Bye bye now."

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

This was pathetic. Not only was he being infuriatingly dismissive of his greatest foe, the idiot was actually too clueless to antagonize. What was the point of gloating, when the gloatee didn't even know what you were gloating about?

Well, if he'd learned one thing dealing with Guybrush, it was that beating around the bush never got him anywhere.

"Alright, Guybrush. If I need ta spell it out for ye, so be it."

Taking a step forward, he pulled his arm back and swung at the adventurer's face, mindful of the shovel on his back. He also wondered, idly, why he ever bothered with the speeches and explanations. Noone ever listened.

[threepwood]

Guybrush barely had time to think about LeChuck's words before the dread pirate's fist connected with the side of his face. His neck twisted and his body followed suit, spinning a full circle on one heel before he fell to the floor. He groaned as he sat up a moment later, rubbing his jaw with his good hand.

"Ow!" He stayed sitting on the floor, looking up at LeChuck with a grimace. "What'd you do that for?" It seemed like a dumb question, given LeChuck's usual inclination to beat the stew out of Guybrush as he desperately tried to put together a way to defeat his enemy, but it was worth asking.

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

Having hopefully made his point, LeChuck shook his hand casually while he waited for Guybrush to recover. He'd forgotten that that could sting a little now that he was human.

Now that he had his audience's attention, he went into full exposition mode, towering over the sad excuse for a buccaneer.

"Listen up, ye sissy scallywag! Yer no match fer me, voodoo or not! But, as much as I'd hate ta admit it, ye've got a way of escaping bizarre circumstances, not to mention that... thing ye do... ye know, with all the junk ye pick up. So I'm gonna propose this once, and ye can decide what we do. We can work together, with my strength and cunning, and yer... uh... blind luck. Or I can kill you with my bare hands, or even yer own shovel if ye prefer, and work it out on my own. What'll it be?"

[threepwood]

Guybrush glared sourly. He didn't like the fact that he'd been smacked around yet again by LeChuck. He didn't enjoy being threatened or having his honed methods referred to as 'blind luck.' He was also nearly balked at the mere suggestion that he team up with his mortal enemy. Nearly.

Only nearly because LeChuck had a point. That was the worst part.

Despite his Mighty Pirate™ title, Guybrush knew well enough that he was nowhere near a match for the brute physical force LeChuck had at his disposal. While he preferred his usual method of talking to people/solving problems/committing several counts of grand larceny in order to get what he needed, he had to admit that some of the patients he'd seen were crazier than some of the Pox-riddled pirates of the Caribbean. Force seemed to be an easier way of handling them; however, there were no rubber-tree masts to save him now. If LeChuck really had no part in the whole spooky fake asylum scheme, then this was something bigger than just two mortal enemies facing off in a battle of Voodoo prowess and unadulterated wit.

"Ugh... fine," Guybrush grumbled, getting to his feet. "But you try anything funny, and I'm ramming this hook up your human nose. Got it?"

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]

LeChuck smiled, a wide, too-genuine-to-be-real smile. If only to annoy Guybrush, he affected his friendly, 'good LeChuck' voice.

"Of course, Guybrush, I wouldn't dream of it! Now, shall we continue into the night together?"

He strode happily past Guybrush, and down to the exit of the hallway. The only thing better than tricking Threepwood into helping him willingly was getting him to help unwillingly.

[voodooanonymous.livejournal.com]