damned_institute | Night 50: M101-M110 Hallway

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Night 50: M101-M110 Hallway

Weapons in hand, Heat was out in the hall the moment the doors opened. There had to be something, a scent in the air that might alert him to the presence of one of Landel's creations. His hunger wouldn't be denied for another night. Though he was still without his flashlight, that didn't really matter. His other senses should be enough to find what he needed. And he would find something. No other patients were even going to be looked at until he had.

Whatever the head doctor meant about those rings, it didn't matter to Heat. He hadn't been in a group the night before, and even if he had been he hadn't gotten more than a couple halls. What would be the point of being able to transport himself there when he could walk the distance just as quickly? No, it couldn't help him, and if it couldn't help him it didn't interest him. Chances were they were all just another trick of the Institute's anyway.

The demon paused outside his doorway, nose to the air as he decided on a direction.

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"Don't talk," McCoy told him. His gaze flicked up for a moment, in time to see the patient hunched over the corpse, practically swimming in its blood and, Lord above, actually tearing into it. He could hear the wet chewing from here, along with the splatter of blood. The humanoid's back looked familiar, but with a patient on his hands, he couldn't mull it over further just yet. For now, that male patient was busy gorging himself on that creature. His attention wasn't on them just yet. He might have saved them, but he'd torn into that feline with a feral single-minded drive that McCoy didn't feel at all comfortable with.

The doctor looked back down at the wounds below. He couldn't say he liked the look of the rotted flesh fragments littering the nearby epidermal tissue. He cleaned them off as best he could, and quickly, before reaching for the first aid kit. It wasn't any substitute for a full on steri-field, but he had to stop that bleeding first. The sterilized gloves were already streaked with red.

The intercom crackled to life, and McCoy listened to it as best he could. He was more concerned with treating Jim, but he'd learned in the field that keeping an ear and eye out out could mean a difference between life and death. Tunnel visioning could be dangerous, ranging from finding out too late a hostile life form was creeping up behind you, to medical equipment suddenly failing, to a rocking ship in the middle of a surgery. Keeping an eye on your surroundings wasn't something you could ignore.

The Head Doctor ended up confirming what had happened last night. Portals though, he'd been wrong about transporters being involved. The result didn't do all that much for his stomach.

The noise that followed the announcement was almost enough to make him lose his focus. It was ear-splitting, seemed to hammer through his head, rattle his skull around. His fingers froze for a moment, clenched, before McCoy forced himself to continue. He pressed a gauze against the wounds, applying pressure to it, eyes watering from the high-pitched whine.

The intercom message saved McCoy from having to listen to Kirk shoot back a smart aleck comment; although given the choice, Bones probably would've chosen a contrary captain over whatever the hell Landel was doing. For a certainty, Kirk could've done without that piece of aural torture, even if you could argue that noise ripping through your skull wasn't really any worse than bleeding out from ragged gashes all over your chest. Why did so many moments of his life seem to involve comparing the pain level of the things which happened to him?

Kirk let escape a pained groan as the noise intensified, but the pressure of Bones' hands on his wounds served to keep some part of his mind focused on where he was, and what was happening. It wasn't just him, at least — he could see that from the look on Bones' face, and the way the third man seemed to have his hands over his ears. No doubt patients all over the institute were now cursing Martin Landel's name.

And then in an instant, it was over, and as the Head Doctor's voice faded from the intercom, Kirk realized that the hallway was now silent. No shrieking, no growling, no screaming. He almost thought the creature had ran during the distraction, but he could vaguely make out a shape lying in front of the other patient and — as he carefully pointed his flashlight in the man's direction — the splatter of blood all over the floor and on the man's clothes.

Something in Kirk's instincts shied from staring too long at the scene, so he switched his attention back to Bones instead. "Something's changed." That was obvious enough, but what he meant was the content of Landel's broadcast, before the sudden high-pitched noise. The message had been vague as usual, but it didn't take a genius to see that some other unpleasant surprise awaited them tonight.

"We have to... get out of here." Nowhere in this place was safe, but he'd feel safer not lying in a hallway filled with blood. Kirk moved to push himself up, as if intending to just walk out in his current state, but his injuries quickly reminded him what a stupid idea that would be and he forced himself to settle down again.

Or as settled as Kirk ever was, anyway. He shot Bones an ironic, maybe half-apologetic smile, and looked over at the red-haired man. "Hey! You alright?"

Edited 2010-07-26 22:23 (UTC)

There was nothing left of the cat soon enough, as Heat returned to his meal after the noise had died down. When Kirk addressed him, he was licking blood - a dark, rotting ichor - from his wrist up to his fingers. He could ignore the taste as he just tried to get down every bit of nourishment he could. What the other two men thought of this didn't matter.

The concern was surprising, given that it came from the most injured of them. Though his right arm was bleeding freely, they weren't terribly deep scratches. He'd deal with them later, if they didn't heal up on their own after having eaten. The Institute seemed to dampen that side-effect as well. "Worry about yourself," he answered gruffly. "I'm fine."

The demon got back on his feet. He thought about removing his own blood-covered shirt, but as long as there were others bleeding nearby it'd be good to have that smell to keep himself focused away from them. Though he was feeling better now, that cat hadn't been nearly the size of the demons he was used to. Though he wasn't too worried, it couldn't hurt to be careful.

It was only now that he was paying better attention to the men that he realized he recognized one of them. It was the doctor from the bus, and it looked like he at least hadn't been lying about his job. He was handling the other's injury with a certain amount of professionalism. It was a shame Argilla was still around. She might still have had some of her healing abilities available, and she might have even been willing to waste some energy on a man they didn't know.

On that note, he wasn't entirely sure why he was still standing there, watching the two of them. Perhaps it was because he'd already finished the task he'd set out to do that night and therefore had nothing else to hurry on to. Whatever the reason had been, he had a better one now. He shot the doctor a toothy grin. What had his name been again? Mc-something?

The sound didn't go on much longer. The intercom mercifully clicked off, leaving the hallway silent, except for the ringing in his ears. McCoy began wrapping bandages around Jim's torso, just when he decided it was a good idea to try and get up.

Thankfully if Kirk wasn't going to have some any sense, his body was going to settle the matter for him. After a moment, the captain sank backwards. McCoy gave him a knowing look.

"I know," the ringing was slowly dying out, but he was certain he'd just spoken too loud. "But I'm not moving you unless I absolutely have to," he added.

The doctor was just finishing up tying off the bandages when Jim looked away and spoke. McCoy turned to look as well. He saw the mangled remains of the creature first. There wasn't much left. Just a giant splatter of blood. For a moment, the doctor stared at it, as if it had been something other than a giant cat. You didn't see a complete destruction of a corpse like that often. It tugged at his memory, an odd, alien sensation in his mind, as if he'd seen this sort of thing at the hands of one officers itching for promotion, a particularly brutal assassination that was more human rage than a calculated move. The strangest part was that he hadn't been at all surprised or disgusted at it, just looked at it with as much emotion as a computer....

The memory flared up, seemed right at home in that moment, then faded away. He frowned. It didn't seem like something that would have happened on his Enterprise. In fact, he was sure he never seen anyone do such a thing, and yet the memory felt very real.

McCoy forced his eyes upwards. He finally had a chance to take a proper look at the patient. He'd been right, there had been something very familiar about him. That hair and those eyes. They'd looked wild before, but now, they almost looked inhuman. He might be covered in guts and body fluids, but he could see the man underneath.

"I know you. You're that man from the bus," McCoy said, more casually than he should to a man who'd just about torn the throat out of that cat and devoured it. The doctor shifted, silently putting himself between the patient and the captain. "Heat, wasn't it?"

It was a mundane thing to say. It had to be, especially since he'd just ripped that thing to shreds. McCoy already had knew that there was something wrong with Heat. He hadn't expected him to act it out quite like that. He'd actually not only killed the animal with his bare hands, but he'd actually eaten it, rotting flesh and all. McCoy didn't know just how far Heat's mental illness went or what would set it off against them.

Edited 2010-07-27 06:14 (UTC)

When the man answered, Kirk gave a wry laugh and finally conceded, letting his head fall back onto the hospital tile. Besides, his doctor had told him that he wasn't moving, and while Kirk knew many ways to win an argument against Bones, he also knew when not to bother trying. The bandages wrapped around his torso felt good and tight, although the place where the animal had bitten him probably still needed a look.

Only when the red-haired man stood up did Kirk finally see what was left of the cat. Or rather, what wasn't, which was apparently everything except a whole lot of blood, almost black in the low light. His blue eyes flicked back to the approaching man as he realized what he'd done. Sure, it was possible that the cat had escaped into the shadows, but Kirk had a feeling that the creature wouldn't have gotten away from that fight without leaving a long trail to follow. Whatever traces remained smeared the floor and the other patient's face and shirt and arms. In any other context, the grin Heat flashed McCoy then might have been friendly. Might.

"You know this guy?" Kirk blurted, still too wrapped up in the lack of painkillers to hide the incredulity in his voice. Sure, the people Kirk had met here had been pretty colourful in their own right, but at least none of them would consume stinking, half-alive animals. Well. Maybe. In all of their conversations about food, somehow Kirk hadn't quite yet learned what Admiral ZEX ate, but...

Never mind. He didn't miss the way Bones moved between him and the other patient. Despite them apparently having met, his CMO was still wary. Seeing a man eat a monster whole ranked high on the red flag list, and Kirk wasn't ignorant of how his wounds were still bleeding out under his bandages. If this guy could swallow an entire wildcat like it was nothing, a grown man might prove only slightly more of a challenge.

But Heat's response to his earlier question (his name was Heat, really?) hadn't been that of an irrational monster. It wasn't the most tactful word choice for a member of Starfleet, but after the up-close-and-personal experience, monster seemed more than appropriate for the thing which had attacked both of them. But not this man. Not yet.

Kirk had heard the humanity in his voice. And even if Heat had been more focused on food than charity, he'd still saved them. Kirk grabbed Bones' arm and pulled himself up to a sitting position, grunting only slightly with the effort. "I guess if you already know my doctor, I can introduce just myself. Captain James T. Kirk," he said, his voice steady. If he was wrong and Heat did intend to make their night worse, then Kirk could at least try not to appear weak. "Thanks."

He eased his coat off his shoulders (ragged and blood-stained, but at least usable, unlike his shirt), and gingerly peeled the left sleeve from his bite wound to get a closer look. The teeth had managed to pierce through to skin, but not deeply. He could still get rabies, but that was something to worry about later.

Kirk glanced over at Heat again. "Looks like it got a good swipe in you too."

Edited 2010-07-28 04:31 (UTC)

Captain. That was a rank, like colonel. These men worked together in some sort of military unit. Heat could respect that, as much as he respected anything. He raised a hand and gave the captain something of a mock salute. "Kirk," he repeated, letting them know he understood. "And... McCoy." The other's name came back to him as the bloodlust faded. They wouldn't be getting any titles for now, though. Not from him. After all, he wasn't a part of their tribe.

He licked what blood he could from his lips, before wiping the rest away on the edge of his shirt.

The demon didn't miss the way the doctor placed himself purposefully between him and his captain, and he couldn't say it wasn't a smart move even if neither of them had anything to fear from him now. It was much like a mother animal protecting her young from a predator, a sound analogy that came more from the mind of his own inner doctor than the A.I. The grin on his face lost some of its original feralness, becoming more of a smirk. He had no problem being seen as a predator even in friendly situations.

It was amusing, in a way. McCoy was clearly still disturbed by him, despite the fact that he'd just proven what he'd said on the bus. Would he still deny that there were monsters in these halls? While he could understand the aversion to him having devoured the creature, he certainly hadn't eaten anything remotely resembling a human. That would be signing his death warrant here... never mind what Seraph might think. Had the doctor really just not been around long enough to know that not everyone here was as human as he was, and that most things had a more monstrous form once the lights went out?

He took a step toward the man on the floor, then held out his arm for a handshake. The captain had yet to make any breaches in etiquette, not that Heat normally followed any such thing. For added effect, and for McCoy's sake, the atma marking on his forearm glowed bright red for a moment before returning to normal. If he felt like wasting energy for the sake of proving a point, he could always transform his arm completely. But not yet.

"And yeah. I'm Heat." The comment about his other arm was ignored. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't worth bothering with.

Edited 2010-07-28 06:21 (UTC)

"In a way, captain. Met him on the way into town," McCoy told him. It looked like Heat remembered him too. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this particular man remembering his face. That conversation at the bus had hinted at problems, anger management problems, and tendencies towards violence and cannibalism, if you took him at his word. While Heat had torn the animal apart and devoured it, McCoy was glad to say that the last claim was still unproven.

He could believe he was capable of it, however.

The doctor had his hands busy now with the wounds on Jim's arm. He also wasn't about to go contaminating the gloves with the remains on Heat either. McCoy lifted his hands, in explanation, then resumed work.

The options were that Heat was either truly in need of help, mentally ill, or that he was another species transplanted into a human body, like ZEX. It didn't necessarily account for the violence or eating habits (that could be a mental condition, and humans were capable of it), but it did account for the strange mark on his arm. Of course, there were plenty of aliens out there who looked perfectly human on the outside, but this build didn't lend itself that well to the attack he'd witnessed.

"Suppose I should be thanking you," he drawled. McCoy didn't move himself from Jim's side. He might be raised well, a man from the South, born and bred, but he also wasn't a fool; politeness and manners only went so far. Heat was violent and unpredictable as far as he was concerned. He was getting the impression that Heat hadn't set out to save them, because who the devil ate the thing he'd been fighting? And then decide to check out the people he'd saved after?

He did look back up at him, disapprovingly. "You didn't need to kill that animal, Mr. Heat."

Taking a life should be a last resort. The creature hadn't seemed sentient, so he doubted there was any reasoning with it, but surely it could have been driven off. Or escaped from. Anything was better than what was left of the animal smeared on the floor.

Kirk's gaze flicked down at the mark on Heat's outstretched arm, watching it flash, yet his smile when he met those strange red eyes again was immediate, and friendly — easy enough, with the practice he'd had. "Nice to meet you," Kirk answered, not bothering to hide his bemusement at the situation, but he grasped the man's hand in a sure grip and shook. He didn't know the meaning of the symbol, or why it glowed, but one thing was clear enough: Heat had wanted them to see it, to know whatever it signified. With the blood cleaned from his face, he appeared almost human, and a canny one at that. Kirk didn't believe Heat would have offered his hand and shown off his mark carelessly.

But the gesture, whatever its ulterior implications, also said that he wasn't looking for a fight just yet, and Kirk could accept that. Of course... if Bones wanted to start an argument, he wouldn't stop him either. Curiosity about other people admittedly tended to override his self-preservation instinct. He'd smelled the creature when it had been on top of him — no normal human could've gulped that down without wanting to gag. Heat appeared fine... more than fine. "Normal" didn't classify men who would tear apart a large creature in a matter of minutes, and swallow it raw, pointy bits and all. Dangerous? Sure. But also interesting.

Kirk held his arm still as Bones treated the small punctures, only giving it a flex after the bandages were tied off. His body still hurt all over, but he'd survive. "Here, you should probably hold onto this," he said, passing the blood-smudged ring back to Bones before he closed the first aid kit again. It sounded as if the Head Doctor had cut off Marc's efforts to communicate, but until the radio man found a way to continue his explanation of the ring, he'd feel safer having it back in Bones' care.

That done, he pulled his coat back on and reached for his friend's shoulder. "Help me up."

If he could walk (and Kirk was confident of his ability to manage that much), then there wasn't much more reason to stay here. Maybe the smell of blood would attract other predators, maybe Heat's enthusiastic display had scared off any half-sentient creatures — either way, there was still a building to search. Bones might recommend bed rest instead, but Kirk wasn't in the mood to hasten the end of the night. Besides, Landel would be putting him back there soon enough anyway.

Since Bones didn't always respond well to logic, Kirk opted for a confident grin instead. "If you've no objections, doctor, I'd like to get out of here now." He looked back at Heat. He didn't trust the man, especially not with Bones eyeing him like that, but Kirk also didn't weigh his debts lightly. "Were you headed anywhere, Mr. Heat?"

Red eyes darted back to McCoy, and Heat stared at him incredulously. "No, of course not. I could have ignored the only meal I might get tonight and risked losing my mind. I could have left it to kill both of you, unless you think you could have talked it to sleep." What sort of ridiculous statement had that been? It didn't need to die? Landel's creatures only had one agenda. They couldn't be shooed away or reasoned with.

The doctor was still incredibly wary of him, and he could understand that. He wouldn't hold it against the man, though he'd be sure to push the role of alpha male as much as possible. If only to keep making him uncomfortable. If McCoy wouldn't believe him, then Heat was only going to force his side of things so much before he stopped caring.

The captain, at least, seemed more reasonable. Either that or he was just too trusting for his own good. The demon was just glad he recognized that Heat didn't intend to do them any harm. It wasn't that he cared, of course. They just weren't worth it. And if it meant something to do for the rest of the night, then why not stick around?

He shook his head. "Nope. I'm done with my goal for tonight. Are you asking me to come along?"

"Who said anything about talking to it? There had to be other options before killing it," McCoy frowned. And eating it like that? That wasn't even in any of those. They could have stunned it or dazed it if there had been the opportunity, but Heat had shot in like a bat out of hell and there hadn't been any such chance.

Losing his mind? Could be truth, could be exaggeration, because, human, alien, or something else, Heat had seemed plenty fine eating earlier, displayed no adverse reactions to the "human" food. Food that at least wasn't still alive when he tucked in. He hadn't seemed like he was going mad either, just angry and mildly sulky about the taste.

McCoy shot him one last look, then tucked the first aid kit under an arm. His first priority was Jim, not standing around here arguing. The doctor turned back to him, helping him up, arm wrapped around his waist gently. He cast a glance at the surrounding rooms. The patients were already out and about. Borrowing a room to let the captain rest was looking like a better idea the more he looked at it.

"I'm thinking we should get you somewhere you could sit down, captain," McCoy said. Jim had other ideas, instead asking where Heat was off to. The doctor suppressed a frown when Heat replied. Heat might have saved their lives but it had seemed like a happy accident with him. If he was an alien jammed in another body, and not just mentally ill, it still left him as violent and unpredictable.

McCoy remained silent, however. It was the captain's decision what to do next, not his.

"Why not?" Kirk said easily, in response to Heat's question. Sure, his impulsive decision to be unpredictable tonight had so far landed him with bruises and multiple lacerations, but that could hardly be considered Heat's fault. The man had piqued Kirk's curiosity with his talk of goals and losing his mind, and Kirk was convinced that part of the key of understanding their prison lay in understanding who it was they'd been imprisoned with. Heat definitely offered something new to think about.

Also, he wasn't discounting the fact that Heat's weapons and fighting ability could be useful if they ran into more trouble, but there was no need to put that part so bluntly. It was a risk to accompany an injured man, but that was Heat's choice, just as it was Kirk's choice to go on with the mission instead of taking Bones' recommendation for rest, big risk or not.

Bones' shoulder was tense under his hand, not that Kirk needed to be currently leaning on him to read his disapproval. His face and words said that clearly enough. He didn't usually ignore his friend's instincts, but he knew Bones trusted him and would follow whatever course of action he chose. Mostly. Eventually. As soon as Kirk regained his bearings, he pulled away from Bones and placed his hands on his hips, trying again to appear strong enough to continue.

"Something's changed," he repeated. "During the announcement, there were sounds of computer use while Landel spoke of 'implementing' something. With the way we've seen him manipulate the properties of the building, I have no doubt that this change deals with our surroundings again. I want to find out what it is. If you don't mind travelling in a group, Mr. Heat, you're welcome to join us. You and Bones can continue your philosophical discussion," he suggested brightly, and turned to leave before anyone could argue. "Let's go."

Heat could already tell why Kirk was the Captain rather than the other man, and he was glad for it. Not that it mattered, since he wasn't required to follow either of them, but the difference was amusing. He almost liked Kirk and the way he was willing to just take the demon along without further questions. An attitude like that would get them places here. McCoy's would not.

The announcement had been nearly forgotten even after that earsplitting noise, so Heat was unable to think back and recall what had been said. It didn't bother him, though, seeing as figuring out Landel's agenda wasn't even at the top of his list at the moment, and Kirk appeared to have understood it just fine. It was a bit surprising, but not entirely unexpected, that he so easily fell into the role of a follower again when someone with the right amount of charisma stepped forward and started giving directions. It was in his blood, he supposed. ...Or perhaps his programming.

"Hmph. As long as you two can keep up." He cleaned the blades of his weapons off on the edge of his shirt, checking them for nicks at the same time. They looked all right, the bones of the rotting cat not having been as strong as they could have been. It was good to be able to put them to use. If he'd just been stuck with his own hands and limited abilities it would have made hunting a whole lot more difficult. Not impossible, but difficult.

It should have been made clear at this point that he was willing to go with them, and more importantly that he was willing to take a secondary position. Even if nothing else happened that night, finding further means of making McCoy disgruntled would be amusing.

It looked like Kirk had made up his mind, both about Heat and his own injuries. While they weren't immediately life-threatening, they also weren't going to get any better if strained. The doctor let him pull away. He seemed to be standing fine on his own, for now.

McCoy only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at Jim. He might be the captain, and most of the time, he and the rest of the crew were willing to follow him to hell and back. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled a surprise decision. Usually they ended up brilliant, but they also didn't usually involve a young man with a violent tendencies and a taste for flesh that was still living. A hot head who thought he knew it all. McCoy had seen a number of those before, and most of them crashed and burned. This Kirk might be a version of his own captain, but he was younger and, he felt, less experienced.

McCoy caught up with Jim as he started walking. "I hope you know what you're doing, Jim," he muttered to him.

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Night 50: M101-M110 Hallway

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