damned_institute | Night 52: M81-M90 Hallway

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Night 52: M81-M90 Hallway

[M85]

One ominous announcement from De Landel later, Guybrush was ready to bolt out the door, pausing only to take one more quick bite of his meal. He grabbed the doorknob dramatically, showing that door that he meant business. Elaine was out there somewhere, kidnapped and helpless and possibly being tortured in some horrible way...

All right, maybe not those last two. Even with the sole thought of rescuing his beloved Plunderbunny on the brain, Guybrush could admit that "helpless" was never an accurate way to describe Elaine. She always knew just what to do, and when to do it so it would be either the most beneficial or would move the plot along. Then again, she did have her occasional misstep, and in the rare occasion something was out of her control, it was always monumentally bad.

He couldn't wait any longer. He was not willing to lose her again.

He stepped out and slammed the door shut, only to open it a second later. "Sorrytocuttheconversationshortgottorescuemywifehavefunnotdying," he called to Scott before slamming the door a second time.

[To here.]

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Scott had just finished pulling on his coat when Guybrush left, slowed by shuddering over the ominousness of the night's intercom announcement. That kind of talk was never good. The last time Landel had said something like that, portals and magical shrinking detectives had happened. And that was getting off light as far as Scott was concerned. Who knew what would be in store tonight.

He really, really hoped Knives would follow his advice and just stay in her room for the night. Considering it was Knives, the odds on that were pretty good, but still.

For now, it was time to head out and meet whoever it was Sora had teamed him up with. Rocky was it? Whatever. He didn't have time to waste on trivial things like thinking, especially when thinking too much was what had kept him knocked out for a good chunk of the afternoon. He finished filling his pockets and hands with his usual gear, then headed straight out the door.

[To here]

Edited 2010-10-14 09:10 (UTC)

Another night, another project. Leon slid off the edge of the bed, ready to get to work. His heart wasn't completely in it, though. Keman hadn't shown for dinner, and there was someone else in his bed. That could only mean he'd been released. He wanted to hope that he'd simply been moved to another room, but that probably wasn't the case. He'd gotten so used to having him there that the thought of him being released first hadn't even crossed his mind.

It wasn't fair. The Institute couldn't just do all they had to him and then take him away! But nothing about this place was fair, and even trying to think in those terms was ridiculous. He just had to focus on the task at hand, and getting things ready for the night. He might be depressed, but that didn't mean he got to ignore the plans he'd made with others. There were weapons to be made.

The boy's cat-like ears drooped as he worked, the task of setting things up taking longer than it usually did.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/991553.html?thread=73663297#t73663297)]

Yep, this was the room. Morgan shifted the pillowcase o' metal in her grip so she could knock. The longer she hauled around the sack of pipes and toilet handles, the less sure she was that anyone could actually make them into a weapon that wouldn't break off in someone's small intestine. She hoped for this guy's sake that he could deliver.

Leon wasn't used to the lights coming on after dark, and he stared up at the ceiling in mild wonder, as if he expected them to flicker back off at any moment. At least this meant he could save batteries in his flashlight, and he tucked the object back under his pillow for the moment.

When the knock came at the door, the young mage had everything already set out and prepared. He answered it looking a little wary after the announcement, ears twitching. The woman seemed harmless enough though (at least in the sense that she wasn't about to stick something sharp through his gut) so he smiled and opened the door further.

"Hello! You must be Ms. LeFlay." Which was an interesting name in of itself, but he wasn't going to question it. People couldn't help the names they were born with. Hopefully it wouldn't be indicative of her personality.

Morgan boggled. She hadn't spent any time trying to picture Leon. D.S. Geeste, Mighty "Toy"maker™, but if she had, she probably would have gone with a grizzled, grog-hardened old sea salt with bad breath and an eyepatch. She definitely would not have guessed anything like a blue-haired kid with cat ears. And if this was some kind of joke, whoever was responsible was going to get his limbs whacked apart with a closet rod. Slowly.

On the other hand, if by some miracle this kid was actually a weaponsmith, it'd be easier to let him work willingly rather than under threat of impending violence (although for some people, Morgan found, nothing got good results like a tight deadline). She decided to be polite. "Yeah, I am. Leon Geeste?" she asked. He had better be. Morgan gave him a cordial smile and held up the bulging pillowcase. "This should be more than enough. And I brought another sketch of what I'm looking for, in case you don't have the one from the board on hand."

"Yes, ma'am. That's me. I still have the drawing from before, but if you want to give me the new one I can compare them so we're certain you have everything you want." Leon pointed to the floor next to where his current supply of metal already sat, indicating that she should add it to the stash. With what he had now, he should be able to cover one or two people who weren't capable of bringing their own metal beforehand. It never hurt to be prepared.

The young mage tried to be polite to those he was working with, but that went doubly if the one he was working with was female. She seemed like a nice enough woman, though probably too old to consider him anything more than a child. He walked back over to where he had his symbols laid out. "As long as you're certain on the design, this shouldn't take long. The handle will be uncovered, so you might want to wrap it in something to lessen the impact. Unfortunately I can only transmute metal."

Morgan fished her sketch from dinner out of her pants pockets--it was identical to the last one, since both were diagrams of the sword that was practically as much a part of her as her limbs--and set the pillowcase by the rest of the metal. Even if she were the princessy type to worry about pillowcases, she didn't plan on needing to use one after tonight anyway.

She followed him to the back of the small room, noting as she did that there was obviously no forge in here. No way could he be hiding one in the closet. What was he planning on doing, tying it all together with a rope? Morgan was just about to get irritated again when Leon spoke. "Wait. Transmute?" she repeated with a sharply raised eyebrow. Was that some kind of voodoo power? She guessed that'd explain the weird symbols on the floor.

Well, if that was the case, she wasn't going to complain--that sounded like it had a better chance of working than this boy trying to forge a sword the traditional way in a prison bedroom. Content for the moment, Morgan folded her arms and stepped back to watch Leon work.

"Transmute, yes. What I do is a sort of alchemy." The boy smiled at her. "Don't worry, it will be perfectly harmless to you." He didn't say harmless period, of course, because that wouldn't be the truth. It did take quite a bit out of him. He just didn't want her worrying about it. People tended to think twice about asking him to create things this way when they knew he wasn't going to be in the best shape afterward.

He laid one of the diagrams out next to his other papers, studying it carefully while he laid the appropriate pieces of metal on top of them. Once again he was working with a simple sword, no highly detailed design and no multiple parts. That would make the process much easier and he was grateful for that.

"All right. One moment. You may want to look away." Even if it wouldn't be as bright with the lights already on. He held his hands over the metal as he had many times before, and the bright glow formed under his palms, encompassing every piece set before him. The process didn't take long, and when he was finished the sword was laid out in front of him, just like in her design. Breaths shaky, Leon slumped back against the side of the bed.

Good enough for her. Morgan kept watching with interest as Leon set things up, and she was glad to see that he paid close attention to her diagram. It was always good to work with a fellow professional, someone who was committed to doing their job well. Even if their job wasn't perforating pernicious pirates.

She lifted one thin arm over her eyes to shield them from the light, but when she squinted she could still make out the sight of the kid doing something to the metal with his hands, although he wasn't actually touching it. When the light faded, the only thing she needed to see was the sword sitting there in place of the metal--an exact copy of the Blade of Dragotta. Morgan rushed forward and picked it up.

"Oh my God, it's perfect," she breathed almost reverently. The weight and dimensions were just right; it felt natural in her hand, like an extension of her body, the way it should. Even just holding it sent a wash of relief through her. She tried a few experimental thrusts, punctuating them with "hah!"s as she demolished her imaginary opponent. The blade held up beautifully. She'd definitely want to do something about that handle, but that was a quick fix, something she could get to tonight or on her way out of here tomorrow night.

Once she'd established that, she turned back to Leon, who looked like he'd just fought off a whole crew of corsairs. "Thanks," she said sincerely. Then her natural suspicion crept back, and she asked, "You're sure there's nothing else you need as payment, right?" Not that it was generally good practice to change the terms of a contract when the other party was armed and you weren't, but she had a hard time believing that he was really willing to make a weapon like this just for the cost of metal. Especially given how exhausted he looked.

Well that wasn't a bad response. Though he appreciated it when others worried over him after he finished crafting, it wasn't really necessary and explaining as much could be tiresome. The young mage propped himself up straighter against the bedside, waiting for his brain to stop swimming around in his head so much.

"It's good enough that I can get people armed. The better armed everyone is the better off they'll do at night. I can't wield a sword myself, so this is my contribution." Maybe it was all futile, and Landel could render their weapons completely useless, but for now at least it was a means of improving morale. On top of that, it also helped keep people alive. This woman could be as much of a skeptic as she wanted, but that was really all the truth there was to it.

He was almost reluctant to leave the chainsaw behind tonight. Though the head doctor sounded like a fool, there was plenty of evidence to the contrary all around him and he would be more of a fool to ignore it. This wasn't a man who couldn't make good on his threats. His games had been a benefit more than once already but the doctor had to wonder if he'd entered into another devil's bargain. An unfamiliar, unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. If that was true, surely he'd already paid the price. He had nothing left for Landel to take. The head doctor was the one with everything to lose.

This was probably just another jab at his invisible enemy anyway. Muraki almost sighed. All of these toys at his disposal and Landel still needed desperately to get laid.

He returned the ring to its place in his pocket, collecting two pens, his journal, his flashlight...hmm. He supposed he would have to make do without equipment. If he was too late he'd miss the boys leaving their room. Flicking on the flashlight, the doctor headed out for the night.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/991949.html?thread=73784013#t73784013)]

Edited 2010-10-22 16:10 (UTC)

Jr. woke with a start, sitting up in bed and breathing heavily from yet another nightmare. But he was used to them by now, and so his only reaction was a muttered curse before he looked around the room. It seemed like he was alone, and Nigredo's warning about nighttime rose up through the more unpleasant memories of the day. Sliding out of bed, he muttered to himself, "Sorry Nigredo, I never was very good at being careful."

After several minutes of ransacking the room, which was helped by the fact that the lights were, somewhat suspiciously, still on, he managed to turn up nothing of use except a flashlight, but he guessed it was better than nothing. Hopefully he wouldn't have to deal with anything that couldn't be taken down by a well-placed smack with a heavy object, though considering Nigredo's condition, he somehow doubted it. He would definitely have to get his hands on something more weapon-like, somehow.

Flicking the flashlight on to make sure it worked, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye, but on turning found it was only his shadow. He hoped, anyway. The last thing he needed was something lurking around in Imaginary Space. He stared at it for a few seconds just to be sure, and turned out the door...

Where things got much creepier. The flickering lights reminded him of a ship that had been savaged by Gnosis and caused his shoulders to tense instinctively. He was doing exactly what his younger brother had warned him against, in the most distracting lighting possible...and he could swear he kept seeing his shadow moving in strange ways out of the corner of his eye.

Kida, Shizuo, Celty, and himself all in one place... The more Izaya considered it, the less coincidental it seemed. It was true that a lot of people were gathered here, the majority of whom he didn't recognize on sight, and a lot of them weren't from Japan, like Castiel, but... For three people in Ikeburo that he was involved with to show up after he had (or around the same time, in Kida's case), the odds were stacked against coincidence.

He'd spent most of dinner quietly mulling over the possibilities—he'd wondered before about the involvement of Nebula or its like, but it seemed a bit more likely now than it had before—and had opened the journal he'd found to jot down some notes. The question foremost on his mind, however, was who would show up next if someone else he was interested in appeared? Ryuugamine Mikado? Sonohara Anri? Kida was already here, so either of them would be welcome additions.

Izaya was wrapped in his thoughts enough that he hadn't noticed Muraki leaving their shared room, and he had almost lost track of time entirely. It wasn't until the intercom came to life with a crackle of static and the sound of heavy breathing that he was spurred into action.

The man behind the intercom seemed to be playing a few games of his own... And there was to be a moral to this story? Of course humans were hypocrites, but that was part of what made them so very interesting!! Saying one thing and doing another, or tricking themselves into believing what wasn't true, or believing strongly in something without ever really thinking it through...... Humans really were the best!

He laughed, not minding when the lights came on with a whine and started to crackled and burst; he swung the door of the room open and stepping out into the hall. The whine faded and the lights dimmed, but the hall was still lit much better than it had been before. Izaya looked down it, a smile on his face.

After that speech of the doctor's... Well, he wasn't going to wager on anything in particular coming of it, but everyone must have heard it. Based on that alone, it could be worth finding someone quickly, to see what was left of their reaction, or to see what they might do to prove the man right or wrong. "This may be interesting."

One step into the hallway had sent Brook reeling straight back into what, at least for him, was the safety of his room. It hadn't been all that much really. Just an announcement on the intercom followed by the most terrifying light show Brook could imagine ~~that did not involve the sun nearly charring his friends to smolders~~. But scaredy cat that he was, Brook wasn't able to hum his way out of crashing lights and high pitched screeches.

He flailed back into the room, dropping the scraps of metal he'd held ready to finally deliver to Leon's room before hitting the wall. A pipe rolled away and further into the hallway after the fall, but Brook let it go. Chances were he did not even notice since he ended up covering his eyes and screaming about how he wished Landel would give them a night off.

Eventually the screeching died down and the sounds of shattering glass ended too. Only when silence returned fully was the musician able to peer beyond his long fingers and take a look at the damage. The pipes minus one were a mess on the floor and the hallway looked no worse for wear than before. That he could see it from his doorway was a feat though. Wasn't it usually dark? Brook slowly climbed back to his feet and gave a peer outside the door frame, finding that some of the lights were actually on! Flickering a bit, but still on. Had that happened before now?

"M-maybe the Doctor is going for a change of scenery...?" he suggested to himself before noticing the escaped pipe near his feet. He bent to pick it up, then sent a look down both sides of the hallway and shrunk back into his room. While he could not argue that moving about at night would be better than strolling through the dark, something about the change gave him the shivers. "Perhaps I'll meet with Leon-san another time."

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Night 52: M81-M90 Hallway

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M88

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