Night 52: West Wing, South Hall 2-B

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

((From here.))

This corridor was empty as well, which was not surprising when one took into account the lack of activity in the previous area. They passed a door to their left, one that lacked a clear label on the maps Spock had seen. While there were several possibilities of what it entailed, Spock knew he would need to make some inquiries from patients who had been here longer than himself. He certainly could have attempted to open it now, but it was better to start further north and work their way down. There would be less time wasted backtracking through previously explored territory that way.

"If the maps are correct," and so far that appeared to be the case, "then we should find a morgue and two autopsy rooms in at the end of the hall ahead."

After a few moments of walking, though, they reached a closed door. Spock adjusted his items long enough to free one of his hands. Grasping onto the knob, he only need to try opening it once to realize it was locked. However, the door did not feel particularly strong, not unlike the one that led into the pharmacy.

Spock leaned down and propped some of his possessions against the wall. "It seems we will have to force our way through."

Comments

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

Lunge had barely recovered from the shift in space- don't think about how, you have other things to worry about, logistics are irrelevant- when several things happened at once. First of all the intercom switched on, and it was the woman's voice that caught his attention in full. Jill, sounding more broken and desperate than he'd ever heard from her, all gasps and moans and strangled words. But the content, that was what he needed, and it was as vague as ever. Other questions were already drumming away in his skull. How did she get to the microphone? Did he leave her unattended? Why would he do that, if, as thought, the controls are all in his office? What is he doing at this very moment?

But the man in front of them- this Howell- wasn't about to leave him room to think. When Lunge next looked up, there was a large, scaled, creature filling out the space. 'Unfortunately familiar' was right. Last time he'd found himself wondering how much of the woman in the Sun Room's power had been illusory between the butterfly and the lightshow, only to be given exactly the answer he didn't want to hear.

His hand kept on typing, even if his eyes remained fixed on the scaled thing in part-horror, part-fascination. He had never in his life been a stranger to risk, but now there was really only one option.

"It looks like it," he agreed, so L's face and Taylor's back as the latter beat a hasty retreat. He backed out of the hallway, only turning his back when he was sure he was out of reach.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/994023.html?thread=73996519#t74002151)]

[ryuuzaki]

[Skipping Howl with permission.]

As Taylor and Lunge left, L gave Howell another narrow, calculating look. Howell's large new friend filled most of the space between them. It struck him, then, that Howell didn't appear to recognize him at all. He frowned, then exhaled on a soft "Hmph," his shoulders drooping more than usual.

Turning his back on Howell and his beast, even to leave, seemed like a bad idea, but staying was worse; L wanted to distance himself from this place, and he couldn't afford to let the others get too far ahead of him. Still supporting himself with a hand against the wall, he made a slow pivot. Then, he walked towards the open end of the corridor, glancing ahead and behind, on the lookout for danger. He let his hand fall from the wall to his pocket, the one that held the five bullets in their clip. The fact that he wouldn't be able to draw the gun quickly enough to protect himself, and that an attempt to do so might make things worse, made the exercise less reassuring than it might have been.

[To here.]