damned_institute | Nightshift 49: 2nd Floor

[[From here]]

Russia had expected some kind of storage room. Rows of shelves, lockers maybe. Boxes even. But if he was to take away any important lesson from the people he'd met today, it was that all of them, each and every one, was disappointing. There was nothing but an empty table and several surrounding chairs. It rather reminded him of some of the meetings he'd had with the other Allied Powers during the second world war, cramped in that little room and forced to listen to America's inane ramblings.

He turned back to his traveling companion, offering a condescending smile. How difficult could it be to know the layout of this facility? Did the sergeant take him for a fool maybe? Just to make his point, he upended a few chairs on the pretense of looking for his belongings.

"No, I really don't think they're here," he said with a bright smile as the chairs clattered to the floor. "You don't think you might've gotten the room wrong, do you Sergeant? I didn't think Germany's troops would've gotten so sloppy. But I'm sure it's just a simple mistake."

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622 walked into the room, stopping dead in his tracks, looking distinctly confused. "No sir, I memorized every part of the map." He turned his glow rod to look at the furniture. A conference room? He closed his eyes, calling up the map he'd memorized, along with the notes that had been written all over them on the bulletin. "...This is a room over on the west side of the Sun Room balcony. We went to the North-East. This makes no--" The door suddenly slammed shut behind him, making him turn in a flash, sword drawn.

Nothing. "Something even more insane than usual is happening tonight." That was really all he could say.

If Ivan ran into one more insane person, he was going to have to take up using the patients for target practice. Surely, it was someone else's fault that the room had turned into a different one. It was as though he was talking to England and his fairytale magic. He was disinclined to listen in the slightest until he heard the door slam shut behind them.

While Russia might not be incredibly bright at times, he was a good judge of a person's character, their weaknesses, and most certainly, when they were and weren't lying to him.

The sergeant actually seemed just as dumbfounded by the event as he was.

Ivan sniffed, raising an eyebrow as he glanced about the room. There'd been no ambush. So why trap them here? He shook his head.

"I'll have to take you at your word," he replied, purple eyes glancing over the shadows of the room with scrutiny.

622 turned his attention back to the rest of the room, checking all of the corners with the light of his glow rod before moving out across it, searching the area. Why were they here of all places? "It doesn't do anything to demonstrate my sanity, I know that." He wasn't going to do much more than state the fact, trying to convince someone at this point would just be counterproductive.

He started searching the room carefully, so far finding nothing. "It doesn't seem like we'll be able to get to the target room tonight." He just hoped the door would lead back to where they were before when they opened it again.

While he didn't understand how it could happen, unless they'd stumbled on a secret passage, and that was just silly. Which meant that if the sergeant's sense of direction was trustworthy even in the smallest degree, something very strange was going on after all. He would have to find out how this place worked, if only so he could try it again at home. He could think of no easier way to both confuse and thoroughly irritate his enemies than to misdirect them like this.

"The night is barely begun Sergeant, we still have a chance," he smiled, a bit less strained than before as he followed the man back toward the door. Unfortunately, unless he wanted to carry a large chair around, there wasn't much he could use to threaten, bludgeon, or otherwise intimidate his foes.

"I suppose so, sir." Still, he wasn't feeling all that confident when he reached for the door handle this time. He had his sword drawn, keeping behind the cover of the door to fend off any ambush that might be waiting for them on the other side.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/894169.html)]

[warped from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/900040.html).]

As Porky backed out of the bathroom, he began to feel a little queasy. It was no big deal. Porky was probably just nervous or something it's not like he was being warped again. That was just a one time deal, right? After all, it wa-

"You've got to be kidding me!" Porky shouted when he looked around. "How the fuck did I get teleported one floor up?! This is bullshit!"

Porky flipped over a chair in his anger, then started flipping over every chair in the room. Nothing helped relieve stress like wanton destruction. After his little rampage, Porky was feeling much, much better. After grabbing a mint from a bowl on the table and then taking several handfuls of said mints and stuffing them in the pillowcase, Porky walked towards the exit. If Landel was going to randomly warp Porky places, there was a good chance that he would end up somewhere useful.

"Kind of like random drops in RPGs, I guess..." Porky muttered to himself as he stepped through the doorway, "Hopefully I'll get the 1/128 one..."

((From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/914561.html).))

Once again, whether it was because it was too dark, or because of his eye injuries, Claude couldn't tell where he'd wound up. Hand stretched out in front of himself, he did his best to try to navigate around until he figured out where he was. Despite his efforts, however, it wasn't enough to keep himself from bumping uncomfortably against something. Thankfully, it was cushy and leathery, so it didn't threaten to leave any nasty bumps like the filing cabinet before.

Upon further inspection, Claude realized it was a swivel chair. He could feel the way the wheels moved against the ground if he put enough weight on it. Faintly, he wondered if this was some kind of office, but he wasn't in the mood to go groping around in order to figure it out. More than anything, he wanted to sit down and rest. The adrenaline from before was starting to wear off, leaving his body feeling more pained and heavy. Giving a shudder, he rested his head against the back of the seat and briefly closed his eyes. What would happen, he wondered, if he just fell asleep right here? What would it matter? He doubted anyone was even looking for him, and he was probably just wasting his strength by blundering through the rooms like some kind of idiot...

Swallowing hard, he shook himself out of that train of thought pretty fast. No, he couldn't give up. That would be like giving into that bastard doctor who'd done all this to him in the first place. Claude grit his teeth as he pushed himself up to a full stand, nails digging into the soft, leather surface of the chair. He'd been through worse than this. If they thought they were going to see him just roll over and accept the situation so soon, then they were going to be disappointed.

Though he was starting to feel clammy, Claude just focused on turning around and putting one foot in front of the other. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, as if just walking was a tremendous effort. But that didn't matter, he told himself. He just had to keep going. Stopping was something he couldn't afford to do at this point.

He reached the door again and pushed it open.

((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/900119.html?thread=69786135#t69786135).))

Edited 2010-05-30 02:38 (UTC)

[From Bill's Hardware (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/909647.html?thread=70009423#t70009423).]

The room reminded Remy of a dining room: a big glass table and lots of leather chairs. But the chairs looked more like the kind he had seen in Skinner's office, and they were all over the place, as if someone had upended them on purpose. The mess made it hard to tell whether or not something dangerous was in the room, but a quick check with his flashlight didn't show anything.

He turned, wondering what Scarecrow and Kibitoshin would think. If they picked up the chairs, this might be a good place to rest for a while.

The Scarecrow had to admit that the room they'd been sent to didn't look terribly safe- chairs were everywhere, possibly tossed aside by something unseen. He gave his flashlight a vigorous shake, the light brightening and illuminating the rest of the room. Nothing in the corners, or to the far side. Maybe whatever had made the mess had left long before they'd arrived- he hoped this was the case, as his head was swimming again.

"Aside from the chairs, this room doesn't seem too bad," he said, making his way toward one of said seats. He righted it, feeling a bit better for doing something productive... even if it was just putting a chair back on its feet. Scattered along the floor near the table were several tiny packages of some sort- he took one carefully, curious as to what was inside. "But who would make such a mess? And why?"

Nightshift 49: 2nd Floor - Meeting Room 2

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