Night 49: Pantry 1 - First Floor

[noifsandsorbubs.livejournal.com]

[from here]

An average man in good shape can run about ten miles an hour. Logan was not aware of this, but that was how fast his bike was going. Something had caught his eye on the road ahead, and he'd slowed way down to avoid slamming into anything potentially huge; and then, as he was veering toward the side of the road to get a closer look, the feeling of standing on the edge of an abyss and looking down washed over him.

And then, at the speed of a flat-out run, he'd crashed.

He stayed where he was for a full ten seconds, half-buried in - what? Debris? Pieces of the bike? He definitely hadn't been going that fast, and damn it, the road had been empty. He shifted and sat up, and the debris, or whatever, shifted with him. It sounded suspiciously like aluminum cans.

Pitch black, clearly an indoor space, and - what the hell was crunchy under his hand?

Cereal.

It was a goddamn pantry. And his ribs hurt. He could've invented a small journal's worth of new and creative words for the situation and whoever thought it was funny to jerk people around like this, but instead he said: "You okay?"

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[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

"We can't fully expect that pattern to remain unchanged, especially if this is about stimuli. The institute hasn't exactly done these warping doorways before, either--" McCoy was pointing out as they stepped through the door. He trailed off

The vomit was the first thing he noticed, a sour smell to the air. Noticing the actual damage done to the room came next.It looked like a storm had come in here, destroyed boxes and cans littering the room and floor, some barely hanging off the shelves. The on;y damage they'd seen had been that place back in Doyleton, and it hadn't looked nearly so recent. Some of the cereal was still pouring, from a shelf in a silent waterfall of grain. There didn't appear to be anyone in here, but judging from the state of the room, it looked like it hadn't been all that long ago.

"Spock," he motioned with the flashlight, the beam landing on the different puddles on the floor. Just as he'd thought, vomit, and then further in, dark red glimmering in the light, in splatters. It didn't look as serious as a severed artery, but it didn't look like too small a matter anyway. The blood liked dark, heavy, spattered in a series of drips rather than a spray.

A fight? he wondered. This room looked relatively small, not much in the way of blind spots, and with the only exit back the way they came, he didn't see how something like Jim's creature could even fit in here. That left the possibility of a fight between patients.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Spock's eyes followed McCoy's flashlight, and he silently took note of the blood and vomit. There very well may have been an altercation between captives here, though it was difficult to imagine any of the patients having the capability to cause such damage within the pantry. At least, not without some sort of extra factor involved. What, exactly, that could be was difficult to decipher without more evidence. One of Landel's creatures may have been involved, but in that case he would have expected to see more blood spattered onto the walls and floor.

His eyebrows faintly rose as he considered this. Interesting...

As curious as the Vulcan was about what truly happened within this room, however, the remaining items didn't seem to shed any definitive light on the matter, and there were no witnesses available for them to speak with. Furthermore, while it was easy to see the entirety of the room from where they were standing, Spock did not wish to find themselves unexpectedly cornered in here by a hostile individual or being that could emerge in the doorway behind them. It was for those reasons that he decided they did not need to stay longer more than necessary.

"This area could become dangerous again," he said as he turned toward McCoy. "The exposed food and blood may draw the attention of the facility's creatures. I suggest we leave."

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

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