damned_institute | Nightshift 49: Gardener's Shed

Entry tags:

depth charge,
hime

Nightshift 49: Gardener's Shed

[From here]

Hime brought her flashlight to bear as they ended up in darkness, the beam illuminating various gardening implements and items. That was another point for Marc in her book - she'd have been grateful had he just been able to not place them anywhere dangerous, but he had in fact managed to get them exactly where she'd asked.

"Tonight's going pleasantly well, rain aside," she noted, looking around. Maybe she should have requested somewhere with towels, but really, she would always take a chance for something to arm her with over such creature comforts. Carefully stepping around the piles of items, she began digging through them - she had a few ideas in mind, but that depended on what the institute had.

"So, what did you think?" the Royal asked of her companion while she looked.

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One nanoklik they were in some Primus-forsaken hole in the mountainside, the next they were in the dark again. It took him a moment to grow accustomed to the darkness again, but once Depth Charge began to look around with his flashlight he could verify that they were definitely in one of the Institute's sheds. Not the one he'd made that doomed solo trip to, but maybe that was a good thing- every now and then his light picked up on the glint of metal. And really, he'd pick a pair of shears over a crummy kid's baseball back any day. No wonder Hime looked so positive.

"Me?" He shook his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder as he began examining the tools lining the wall nearest to him. "Slagged if I know. The guy sounded kinda green if you ask me. But he did seemed pretty genuine and he did make good on his word, so..." Then again, Landel was a genuine lunatic, and he always made good on his threats. It was a fine line. "Gotta wonder what he's gonna be broadcasting about, though, huh? More of those treasure hunts?"

Hime had to agree that Marc did sound new to what he was doing, but in the grand scheme of things, he still probably knew more about what was going on than any of them did. As for trusting him... well, so far he'd yet to lead them astray and had even given them something pretty useful, so long as the communicators didn't explode when they turned them on.

"Perhaps. Well, we'll go with it for now," she said as she reached into a stack of tools. A bit of clattering later and she extracted a weed whacker. An experimental shake gave a sloshing noise that indicated a full tank of gas. Unfortunately, further inspection revealed brightly colored nylon cords - sure to hurt, but unlikely to actually inflict serious injury.

"A tank of gas and a metal blade, the kind they use for the lawnmower," she commanded vaguely as she looked around for exactly those. She'd prefer not to have to try and wrest such a blade from the lawnmower itself - likely they had a spare somewhere. "Anything in particular you're looking for?"

"Not like we have any choice anyway," he muttered, but there was no real venom to it. Early days yet. At least, that's what he was telling the more pessimistic voice in the back of his processor that figured they were screwed no matter how many glorified DJs they had going.

A deep, rumbling peal of thunder rolled in from outside the shed. Right. Business. He passed his light over the wall speculatively, as though this was five stellar cycles before and he was sizing up a set of new recruits. That rake looked promising, but Depth Charge didn't know how useful something that long and fragile would be- fine if you wanted to hit something from a distance, but worthless once you were up close and personal. An old spade slouched against the wall next to it, too, but he already had something blunt.

"Nothing special," he answered, turning towards Hime's corner of the shed briefly before setting about finding the gas and blade. Presumably, they'd be on one of the shelves, or in a box, or... forget it, he knew absolutely nothing about how this place might be organised. "What do you want the gas for?" Was she planning on setting the place on fire or something? Or did she already have some kind of chainsaw-esque weapon lined up? He realised, oddly enough, he didn't put either answer past her.

As it so turned out, those were both options high on Hime's list of things to do with a can of gas, though she preferred the latter.

"Extra fuel, once this tank runs out," she said, holding up the weed whacker for him to see before setting it off to one side so she could continue searching. "Of course, if this doesn't work, I find most enemies don't appreciate being set on fire." Oh, how pleasant it would be to see the head doctor dance in the flickering flame.

Checking across one of the shelves, her flashlight glinted off a piece of metal. Pulling it out of the pile of spare parts the Royal revealed a long, rectangular bar, flat and sharpened on one side that switched halfway - the lawnmower blade she was looking for, set with a hole in a center. Hefting it, she noted the weight and balance; it wasn't a sword, so those didn't matter as much, but she still needed to be sure it could be fitted the way she wanted.

"I found the blade," she told him, dropping the acquired piece into her mesh bag along with the baseball bat. Much as the weapon felt unnecessary now, she'd still have to put together and assure that her new equipment actually worked before she could set the bludgeon aside.

Depth Charge frowned. "A weed whacker?" What did she expect to do with that, beat down a particularly nasty hedge? Yeah, take that photosynthesis. But then what did would she need the lawnmower blade fo- hold on a klik. Either he was going crazy or he'd been right on both counts. He stared at her for a moment, taken aback. "What're you going to do, put the two together or something?"

Because that would have been beyond bizarre. Well, he couldn't fault her sense of style, at least. There was something oddly poetic about the idea of weilding a frankenchainsaw or lighting up a monster like a firewor... oh, great, now she was rubbing off on him- violent tendencies were pretty slagging contagious if you weren't careful.

Depth Charge shook the image out of his head and went back to searching for that gas. It wasn't long before he found a small carton nestled among the hosepipes, full nearly to the top. He held it up for her. "Here. One carton of gas, just as ordered."

"It probably won't have enough power to cut bone, but I'm sure it'll do something nasty to everything short of that," Hime noted. She paused, considering for a moment. "Well, it might break a few."

Of course, substituting in the blade for the nylon strings on the weed whacker was hardly going to be an easy task - she'd have to get her hands on some tools for that. The janitorial closet, perhaps? Once the institute stopped being a maze of portals.

"I'll carry that," she said, taking the gasoline tank in one hand, the neck of the weed whacker held in the other. "I probably can't fight anyway with this thing, so we might as well free up your hands. Grab something sharp and let's get going."

"Oh. Right." For a moment, Depth Charge simply stared. Just a few bones, huh? Well, wasn't that a shame.

Primus.

He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking faintly dazed as he handed over the gas tank. "Alright, but that makes me head of the monster scrapping unit. I'm heading out first this time." Which made a nice change, come to think of it- he was starting to get a little sick of looking at Hime's back all night, nice as it was.

As for the 'something sharp', the crowbar was good enough for him. "I'm done. C'mon." Edging past Hime, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain- or not.

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Nightshift 49: Gardener's Shed

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