Night 50: East Wing, Hall A

[swornandbroken.livejournal.com]

[from here]

Mello hadn't been back to this hallway since that bogus therapy session he'd been too out of it to use to his advantage, a missed opportunity that still rankled. If he hadn't been sedated, he was sure he would've had his wits about him enough to find out something about that file the Institute had on him, or whether or not being let out was completely random.

But a lot of things would've been different if he hadn't been hampered by the drugs. Mello stubbornly clung to the belief that it would have made a difference that night. He refused to accept that the Institute could do whatever it wanted to them, no matter how much the place tried to rub their faces in that very knowledge. Some people might have been able to find consolation in thinking the game they were losing was rigged against them, but not him. That presupposed a system where winning wasn't possible at all, and he couldn't stand that idea, not as long as he could push himself harder, find more to try.

He refocused on the task at hand, which should have been getting easier due to practice these last couple of days, but wasn't; and took a sniff of the hallway's air. "Heh. I'm thinking that one." He pointed to the first door on his right. "You want to bust it, or should I?"

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[doctorbadtouch.livejournal.com]

Injured obviously, but not badly enough that he couldn't force himself to stand. Raphael, was it? It didn't really suit him. He was neither angel nor artist. The boy was short-tempered and muscular, and if the light was better he might be able to map out the scars from a life of battle. He had certainly been trained for it. How many times had he come back from the edge of death? How many people had he saved or damned? That life of battle would end in futility.

"Muraki," He replied, smiling politely as he stepped closer, as if to return the weapon. It was so close now his fingers twitched at the memory of richwarm blood. The heart would be too quick a death; the throat or the eyes too gorey, the stomach be a slow putrid burn and the lungs would fill with blood as he choked. Yes, the lungs... An open spot in the boy's defence and enough time for him to take what he needed. "Thank you for everything."

Shifting his grip on the sword he thrust it forward without warning, hoping to pin the boy to the wall behind him.

[donetakinorders.livejournal.com]

Raphael shrugged, still doing his best to ignore the complaints from his bruised body after that tussle. He'd never been one to show he was hurt if he could help it. Too much of a sign of weakness, specially when he didn't know the guy he'd been protecting.

"No problem," he began, reaching for the sword.

He realised it left him wide open to attack a moment later, as the sword darted forwards in a surprisingly quick movement. His eyes widened and Raph instinctively tried to move away, cursing himself because hadn't Splinter always told them that a ninja never let his guard down? but the sword pierced his gut before he could stop it, driving him back until something stopped him. The wall, or maybe the door. It didn't matter, with the sword a lance of pain pinning him there to stare in mute shock at the pale man who'd killed him. It didn't matter if he wasn't dead yet, Raph wasn't stupid. A wound like this and no one else around? He was a dead man.

It was stupid, but the only thing he could think of right now was: "What... the hell...?"

He wasn't going to get to go home and see his family again. No Mikey or Donny or April and Casey or Splinter or even stupid Leo. He was going to die, and as a stinking human as well.

Like getting killed in such a stupid way wasn't already bad enough.