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damned_institute2010-10-14 11:34 pm
itneverwas.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-10-14 11:34 pm
Night 52: Main Hallway, 1-East
[From here]
If there was one piece of vital information that Xemnas had already grasped during his short stay here, it was that the second floor's main corridor was usually one that was guarded. As the Sun room, it was a center area that was often traversed by the various patients confined within these walls, making it rather logical to position something that would cause inevitable hindrance to those that would wander within the area.
Tempting fate by using that same route would likely result in unnecessary delay, as observing the very abominations that the head doctor allowed to roam freely in these halls wasn't among his goals tonight. Perhaps his current route would have seemed like a detour to anyone else, but to the Superior who could not feel the fear likely grasping some of those part of an existence, it was merely the most efficient way of reaching his destination. That was, however, not to say that he would not find any inconveniences along the way.
It was without any difficulties that the Nobody reached the Eastern wing of the institute, though it left little reason to rejoice. The darkness was still unmoved, not yet revealing that what lurked within. There was the briefest of pauses in the sound of his own footsteps as he searched for something that may leap from the darkness.
Concluding it to be relatively safe for now, Xemnas headed for the most Eastern staircase.
[To here]
If there was one piece of vital information that Xemnas had already grasped during his short stay here, it was that the second floor's main corridor was usually one that was guarded. As the Sun room, it was a center area that was often traversed by the various patients confined within these walls, making it rather logical to position something that would cause inevitable hindrance to those that would wander within the area.
Tempting fate by using that same route would likely result in unnecessary delay, as observing the very abominations that the head doctor allowed to roam freely in these halls wasn't among his goals tonight. Perhaps his current route would have seemed like a detour to anyone else, but to the Superior who could not feel the fear likely grasping some of those part of an existence, it was merely the most efficient way of reaching his destination. That was, however, not to say that he would not find any inconveniences along the way.
It was without any difficulties that the Nobody reached the Eastern wing of the institute, though it left little reason to rejoice. The darkness was still unmoved, not yet revealing that what lurked within. There was the briefest of pauses in the sound of his own footsteps as he searched for something that may leap from the darkness.
Concluding it to be relatively safe for now, Xemnas headed for the most Eastern staircase.
[To here]
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Last night, Rita had been stopped on the second floor by a strange metal creature. This time, she wasn't going to let anything get in her way. The first floor hallway appeared to be less guarded, and Rita was able to continue through to the east side with no trouble. Taking an alternate route was a good idea after all.
It looked like there were more patients in the hallways now, but that was fine. More targets to distract the monsters from her, Rita supposed. The mage paused only for a second to check the area for monsters, then made her way over to the nearest stairwell.
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Kiba had barely made headway into the next portion of the long corridor when he heard the tell-tale crackle of the intercom, the static giving way to harsh, labored breathing and a voice as familiar as it was obnoxious. Kiba automatically stiffened, face hardening as he slowed to a cautious, though not complete stop. He grit his teeth, ears registering the broadcast, though unsure of what to make of it.
He didn’t know who this Jill was, or, hell, any of the people the bastard was mentioning by name—perhaps that was something to ask Sakura or Shikamaru later—but, as Landel’s speech wore on, he liked it less and less. It was distinctly unsettling, and part of him obstinately wanted to ignore it entirely and be on his way. But he couldn't ignore it. He knew that listening to the what the man had to say was important, even if the man himself was nothing more than a two-faced, bi-polar bastard who insisted on living a lie that no one believed to begin with.
He snorted, beginning to pick up his pace along the hall again as the doctor’s message seemed to be coming to an end, but he had barely begun to do so when ears picked up a growing electric hum followed by a sudden explosion of light, the brightness almost blinding to Kiba’s night-adjusted eyes.
In less than a second, lightbulbs cracked and shattered, the air filled with the sounds of falling glass and the smell of something like burnt plastic. With a barely hissed-out curse Kiba immediately ran towards the wall, his stance stiff and defensive as he put his back against it and waited. The lights faded, dimming or dying entirely if they were not all ready broken beyond repair, and things were silent once again. Another few seconds passed. Nothing, save the haphazard flickering of lights along the hallway and the adjoining corridor.
What the hell had just happened?
His body, which had went rigid the moment the lights had flared to life, eased into a more relaxed position, though there was a sort of apprehensive tenseness in his limbs that had yet to vacate his body. His eyes narrowed.
He didn’t know what the doctor was up to, if anything at all, but he didn’t intend to stand around and find out.
[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1002418.html?thread=73915058#t73915058)]
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They reached the eastern wing of the Institute without further incident, at least as far as Kirk defined incidents, anyway. No unlikely alien creatures, no portals, no brainwashing. The height of damage from the electric surge was a long fluorescent tube broken with such force that it had fallen from the ceiling and hung suspended from one end. Some other tubes around it appeared intact and functioning, flickering just as he walked around the hanging tube, and casting eerie shadows...
What? Kirk stopped abruptly, gaze fixed on the floor where his own shadow lay. He'd thought he'd seen, out of the corner of his eye... nothing. It was nothing. He was on edge again, imagining shapeless dangers jumping out at them from. Get a grip, Jim.
Mentally shaking himself, he looked back up and shot Uhura a self-mocking smile. "Sorry." He glanced around, catching sight of the narrow hall of doctor's offices just a few feet away. "Have any of the nurses talked to you about getting therapy?"
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Uhura hadn't realized how close she was walking flanked behind him, not until he stopped short, and she somehow managed not to collide with him. And still give him a look of epic judgment and maybe even slight amusement once he apologized to her.
"No, but I have been meaning to ask you about how to go about making that happen. I'm ready for you to try and talk me out of it, what with how the rest of this place seems to work, but I would like to set up an appointment with one of the doctors." She was looking around too, using her flashlight even where the hallway lights still flickered at half-power. "Have you met with any of them yet?"
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Walking around was actually getting pretty treacherous: broken glass all over the place, lights flickering on and off...Niikura swiftly concluded that whatever benevolent being that had decided that they deserved boots needed some serious praise. Of course, more than likely it had been the Head Doctor, so that complicated things a little.
Well, at least the man had one good thing going for him.
And he was starting to think that either he'd gone crazy or Grudge Woman was following him again, since now he was definitely sure that his shadow was openly mocking him in some way. Oh, it wouldn't move when he stared at it directly, but when it thought he wasn't looking...
Great. Sentient shadows.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/997123.html?thread=73703427#t73703427)]
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If Kiba had ever stopped to consider about maybe taking the logical approach to things, to take a leaf out of Shikamaru’s book that he would probably never get around to writing, perhaps he would have waited for Niikura take the lead. Maybe hang back a pace or two and watch things unravel from behind.
But Kiba had never been much of a follower. Never had, and never would be, not if he had the choice in the matter. He disliked playing backup with a passion, wanting to be right in the thick of things, come hell or high water. If there was going to be a fight, he wanted in, and he wanted to be the first into the fray. And if there wasn’t going to be? Well, he still wanted to be there first anyways, just so he could say he had been, and not have to settle for being anything close to last. He didn’t want to have to restrain himself just because some idiot said so, even if said idiot had considerably more experience and talent (yeah right) than he did. If someone wanted him to stay behind, that bastard had better have a damn good reason for asking him to do so.
“So,” he said, not particularly caring if a monster heard him—hell, he might even be able to see it coming this time around)—"you know anything about that guy on the radio? Or—what was her name?—Jill?”
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"Eh..." Niikura shrugged. "My first night here, I heard one of Jill's broadcasts; she mentioned somethin' useful bein' hidden in a shed out on the field. The guy I was with and I had to fight our way through one of those brainwashed patients to get in there, and in the end we got nothin'. So I don't know. Know she's supposed to be on 'our side', but as far as I'm concerned, she's not always trustworthy.
"Don't know anythin' 'bout the other one," he admitted.
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[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/996353.html?thread=73889537#t73889537)]
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The shadow continued, as if Mello hadn't spoken at all. "That's why I work so well. It's why these--" It reached over and flicked the side of Mello's head. "--work so well."
"Ow, fuck you!" He stopped, and turned to fix the shadow with a glare. He'd felt that, but he knew if he tried another punch, he still wouldn't be able to lay a finger on the thing.
The shadow's smirk got bigger. "You're so conceited, you can't imagine that rules and limits apply to you. So every time you run into some that do, you're so bloody shocked, one would think the world was ending."
"What am I supposed to do, then?" Mello said. "Give up?" The shadow was arguing towards something; he knew that tone.
"Getting the hell over yourself would be a start. Then, if you felt really advanced, you could try to get it through your head that everyone knows what you're hiding with that arrogant act." It shrugged, lazily, one-shouldered. "But you're only asking because you think it'll make me stop. It won't."
"Right, god forbid you should stop talking for half a second," Mello said, and held out his hand to Matt for the cigarette.
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He glared at his own shadow as he listened to his friend's, as if to tell it, Just try something like that, see what I do.
...probably, he'd do nothing. But his shadow didn't have to know that.
Still, as they walked on, Matt trying his best to keep up with Mello and his mouthy shadow, his own did nothing; it just followed along the wall, like it was supposed to. Like a good shadow, was all Matt could think as he continued along down the hallway, making sure to stick close to his friend – and pointedly ignoring Mello's doppelganger.
He couldn't ignore their... weird conversation of sorts, but Matt was trying hard not to let any part of it really get to him. It didn't really seem to be his place, to butt into what was essentially Mello berating himself, an act that, until recently, had obviously been an internal affair. Matt himself had never really been one to second-guess himself the way he was sure now that his friend always had been, beneath the surface; it was somewhat disturbing, for that kind of private chaos to be brought to the outside. The brunet sincerely hoped he would never have to endure it.
Of course, he couldn't feel sorry for Mello - no, the blond deserved what he got, especially if he couldn't deal with his own shadow. It was a lousy of Landel to pull that sort of trick on someone, but it wouldn't be for much longer, he knew, and the shadow apparently wasn't going to physically harm them any more than they already were.
...there wasn't really anything he could say to it. It was obviously just going to keep messing with Mello's head; all Matt could possibly do was remind the blond just how hard he'd worked to get as far as they had. Which, yes, wasn't as far as they'd both expected themselves to be, but progress was still progress, nonetheless.
Instead of addressing the shadow, he looked straight at Mello, his expression blank and calm. His nose had finally stopped bleeding, so he ditched the shirt quickly before telling the other boy, "Dude, just- Just ignore it. It wants you to get all riled up and pissy, like you do, but you shouldn't give it what it wants.
"...we've made it this far, haven't we? It might not seem like much, but at least we're trying something. We haven't given up yet- And I doubt we will." He slowed his steps, watching the blond intently. "At least, I hope we don't." With that said, he gave his friend a meaningful look.
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She almost wished that were a possibility. It was far more simple than anything else that could have happened there. The girl frowned, hand tightening on the hilt of her sword. "No..." she said, softly at first before repeating, tone an attempt at lighter.
"Not possible," she gave, almost apologetically. "Last time we were there we cased a general store. It was full of stuff. Most expired, but some of the canned stuff.... Point being, there was food there."
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"Oh," was all he could say.
It wasn't until his response that Nigredo noticed he had stopped moving, leaving him trailing behind the older girl. The distance between them could be closed in a second, but the fact he had left himself lag spoke volumes on his attention. Or lack thereof. Shaking his head, he lifted a foot to continue--
--only for another to fall into step, passing through him like air toward the girl in front. It took only a moment for him to recognize the form: the hair, the clothes, the quiet strides matched one he knew quite well. One he could attribute as similar to his own. Except this one had less to do with siblings and more to do with--
"Senna," he stammered, only to choke on his own breath.
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Voice too unsure, too strange, to be attributed to the stoic child. The girl turned without thinking, face pressed in concern. Only to take in his strange expression. She started back towards him, hand arcing out between them. "Hey... You okay?"
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He could not, however, answer her; speech and all other forms of communication proved useless in the face of shock. His eyes could only lock on the form between them, the muscles in his arms quivering every other second as if fishing for a correct reaction. Couldn't Senna see him, or had the stress from the past two weeks permanently altered his sense of reality? You simply didn't see a copy of yourself come from nowhere. You didn't see yourself, period. He supposed the question was irrelevant; regardless of fact or fiction, he was in a significant amount of trouble.
The person in Nigredo's sights paused in his footsteps, and before a protest could be made, he reached out a hand to Senna's sleeve. "I'm scared," he said, in a voice too quiet and familiar for comfort. "Can't you see?"
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Had she, though? Had she been able to see again? Because when she looked up again, things still blurred--two Nigredos where there should be one, and when she blinked the image stayed. The second one, closer to her, solidified. A hand reached out and she froze.
The tone was close but gave too much feeling as it spoke. It told of a person who kept their emotions close instead of carefully managing them. She stared wide-eyed down at the one next to her, faded, washed out, but just as solid as the one watching the duplicate with something close to shock and horror. What was...?
Her gaze traveled to Nigredo then back to his shade. The tone was too small for her not to respond to, even as her mind reeled at the situation. What was this? Her hand moved, as if to cover the one on her sleeve, but then it stayed where it was. "What are you scared of?" she returned, voice as quiet as the one that had spoken, echoing some sort of reassurance despite its shaking.
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Nigredo removed the restraints and drew his gun, the muzzle pointing toward the floor. Creeping slowly to eye level on automatic. The fear in his expression hardened to focus, though nothing changed on the inside. The boy was still--
"Scared," the other responded, moving to tightening his grip on Senna's sleeve, "of what you might think."
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What was this? Was there a gun sale somewhere that she missed? Man, give her a sword and she was fine--stuff like that seemed way too crazy.
Her eyes darted down to the other when he spoke, but too quickly pulled back to Nigredo, expression shifting to a mix of shock and dismay. "What the hell, Nigredo?" If he was going to have that, he could deal with her swearing. "Where did you get that?"
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Unfortunately, he was too slow. His "shadow" spoke first, ruining the explanation built up in the back of Nigredo's mind. "I picked it up," he answered. The tone was far too nonchalant compared to before. "From my brother. He was too busy dying to need it at the time."
What? For such hesitance, the other's response was immediate, bordering a kind of panic. "I didn't--" He didn't what? There existed something so wrong in that explanation that demanded a denial, but nothing surrounding the words were false. Nothing at all.
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The girl shook her head, clearing the cobwebs, before fixing a stern look at both boys... Boy and thing... Ugh, whatever! Her fingers moved to detach the one at her arm, moving closer to Nigredo in the same motion so she was at a fixed point from both of them. "Okay, one. Put the gun away, seriously. Two--" She raised an eyebrow at the shade. "Don't say weird stuff without explaining what you're talking about. And three, what the hell is going on here?"
...If nothing else, Senna took most things in stride.
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And that involved the gun being out and ready. Therefore, he all but obeyed. "How should I know?" muttered Nigredo. His eyes darted between the two forms. "And I'm not putting it away."
"Then don't," his mirror retorting, shrugging as though none of this particularly mattered. The gesture might have been humorous at another time, but in this situation, it served only to irritate. Nigredo didn't know why. "If you want explanations, the person you should be asking is him."
Here, he nodded to the child, who seemed almost to flinch. "He knows exactly what I'm talking about."
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The shade at least was becoming more clear, pun unintended. Its train of thought was Nigredo and all things concerning him. Any deviation seemed to bring it completely back, and it deigned any response to her question. The intercom hinted obviously enough at something going on. Shadows of people's self? That was sorta... lame, to be honest. Really? What was Landel on? Horror movies 101. Man should try for something original. At least this one seemed content to merely drag facts out into the open. The truthfulness of them was yet to be decided.
Though from the way Nigredo flinched, it was safe to say that things might be close to true. Senna held her tongue, watching Nigredo, and glancing back to his clone at intervals. So far it had technically only spoke to her. Would they talk by themselves?
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After all, the last time the institute had caught him unaware, it had left him for dead. Landel was at fault, was he not? Nigredo would not allow him a second chance.
"No." His hold tightened as his posture grew increasingly rigid, appearing less a child and more something off. "I'm not taking any risks." Should anyone attempt to override his decision, they would be fought against; the last thing he wanted was to be caught without in front of his other.
Who happened to sigh in mild exasperation. "So you'll shoot me?" he asked. "Don't you think that is what I want--"
Want, but not enough for a reveal. Not in front of a mere acquaintance. The finger at the trigger shook in anticipation. "Enough," Nigredo demanded quietly. A part sounded uncertain. "Tell me who you are."
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So again, the girl didn't say anything, only gave a long-suffering shrug, and trod between the two. Hopefully that would dissuade violence. If the other became a threat, sure. But they had no idea what was going on. Hell, if Nigredo killed the shade, it might be tied to him and he might kill himself. Which... If she listened to it, seemed like there was something to that.
But either way she wasn't going to deal with an unsteady trigger finger. She knew enough about that as it was. Nigredo might shoot her if he got too upset but she'd try this for now.
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You're not me. A trick, an illusion, a Head Doctor's form of entertainment. He could list labels and name names, but the truth remained as solid as the other could never be. This was anything but himself.
"Or would you rather I list the evidence? If I know everything about you, I might as well be you." Silence. "Don't you think?"
Nigredo might have shot him, then. There was nothing that told him he couldn't; the other was a danger, and danger had to go. He might have in the next second, if not for the pesky detail regarding the intangible and bullets. That and a girl stepping in-between. Irritation couldn't quite describe what he felt.
"Senna," Nigredo said, more unkindly than he might have meant, "this doesn't have to be your concern."
The other nodded in agreement. "You're just in the way of me killing myself. You--" He smiled, a picture in innocence. "--wouldn't want to be in my way."
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But things start to paint a picture after awhile, even if it isn't a picture you like too much. Initials, a number, the possible self-hatred and the boy's own stoicism--much too much for one his age. The fucking gun, for crying out loud. It spoke of soldiers, was what it said. Not being allowed to have friends... The more she thought, the more his words came back to her.
So she replied automatically, and without thinking. "It is my concern, Nigredo. You're my friend."
To the shade, she had no words. She had a feeling it'd continue no matter what she said.
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But why? Why speak of sentiments he already knew? There existed no reason in the repetition, especially in front of a stranger--no, a friend. And she had to echo thoughts, too. It wasn't like he had never heard her the first time.
His arms lowered a fraction of an inch, and the variant chose silence as an answer.
This seemed only to prompt his mirror, who canted a head to one side to better glance at the figures. "Maybe," he murmured, "but she is not yours. You're only tolerating her because she is a little weird. Excuse me, 'unique'." Here, the shadow made a face, scrunching his lips as if withholding laughter. "Once she shows that she can't be trusted--that she is really your enemy--you'll kill her, right? I mean, don't you think they're all the same? Just like Father. And the standards. Citrine and Albedo. Or--"
The barrel tilted sharply upward toward the ceiling, gunfire echoing in the hallway, smoke and powder and debris filling the air. "Don't!" He could not understand the line of logic, but he knew more than enough to want it to stop. "Don't talk about them..." Like that. In front of someone else. Now.
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Only to dart back up again at the gunfire. The halted sentence which had sped along in a frantic motion. There was a telltale blur in the back of her mind, prompting recollections she didn't have, but she focused on what was happening. On what was right now. She couldn't let even her misbegotten memories overtake her.
The blur worsened to a dull roar and her eyes unfocused briefly. To snap back into acuity a moment later. The solution was simple, right? If it was. The thing was here. So they shouldn't be. Her mind shifted between brief snapshots, memories unclear, and her focus wavered. There was something in this, a familiarity of nights before. And that was?
Helplessness, of course. Being helpless to help the people that Senna cared about. While they got hurt or upset or worse, and she couldn't do anything at all. Nothing.
She stepped closer to Nigredo, leaning down. "Let's go," she said softly. "We don't have to be here. And you don't have to listen to it." She glanced backwards before looking back solemnly. "Nothing is set in stone."
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When Senna spoke, he barely recalled the contents of her sentences. She made as much sense as the query in his head, which he supposed is what came when you found yourself a step away from being lost. Still, likely because she hadn't tried to take the weapon away, Nigredo allowed himself to relent. A bit. He slowly lowered his hands to his side.
Another might have expected Nigredo's shadow to fill in the gaps and mock the decision to listen. To even his surprise, it was the original who opted to speak. "You don't have to be here," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't leave."
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It wasn't something she wanted, but it seemed like it was what Nigredo truly believed. This kid. She slid a hand out to reach for his shoulder--nothing like force, just a gesture of contact. Maybe comfort. Senna smiled slightly. "I'm going to be wherever you are tonight, okay? I can show you those ruins some other time. We can just hang out tonight." A beat. "I won't push it. But you can, you know. Leave."
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Like before--like how it would likely be until everything stopped--the line of thought was derailed by the one standing behind them. "You don't understand, do you?" His tone touched on pleased, probably for the perceived ignorance. Nigredo's grip on the weapon tightened on instinct. "I'm Nigredo. I'm as every bit a part of him as he is of me. You don't just leave yourself."
That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?
"Besides," he continued, "I am the only one he has. Even if he loved you more than anything else in existence, he will still choose me over you. He will reject everything to keep his peace of mind." The 'child' stepped nearer, leaning dangerously close to the older girl. His next words, however, were address to Nigredo himself. "Why don't you tell her? Tell how you killed your father because you didn't want to lose yourself."
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The girl sighed loudly, leaning a hand on her hip. “Don’t talk to me if you want a reaction. It’s Nigredo’s business how he feels, right? And nothing’s constant anyway.” Which was how Senna lived, and probably the only way she could. If that was not a permanent fact, the girl would not be able to move. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Besides, actions in the past don’t define the future.” True or false to the words, this was accurate. “So who cares what happened? It matters what happens now.”
Senna was talking to the shade the whole time, but she hoped to hell that Nigredo was at least listening. Kid had issues, more than he was willing to say, but even if some of that stuff was true. It wasn’t for her to hold judgments on him--her, of all people. People lived and existed, struggled to maintain themselves in sometimes wretched ways, and Senna knew that. More than anyone. "Keeping your self," she murmured. "Is more important than almost anything."
Because Senna had let go, hadn't she? She had decided to die rather than remain to watch others die. But that... Was neither here or there.
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They were working, too, even as nothing was expressed. Though the boy remained silent, the veins inside hardened, blood flowing like ice. He never wanted anyone to know of Yuriev's death, and yet, his own shortcomings brought at least two to the fact. Never had the wish for an end been more fervent until this instant. Maybe it should be his own head Nigredo should aim for, promise and brothers aside.
Then, Senna spoke again. And unlike Albedo, she made no careless affirmation of his actions, no acceptance of a murder without rethinking how the positives might be worse in the end. No, she was letting his business be his without condemnation, and somehow, that mattered enough. Moving against himself suddenly seemed faulty. Being hurt enough to act was more dangerous.
Instead, he took Klavier's advice to heart. He went to examine the why, in a way that betrayed his true age and intent. "Are you," Nigredo began, hesitating once as he realized the intended question was not correctly worded. His gaze flickered over the dark figure behind Senna before returning. "Do you really want to be my friend?"
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...Yes. Senna could understand that entirely. More than almost any.
She glanced over to Nigredo, raising her eyebrows lightly, almost amused. But she smiled reassuring, nothing but ease in the expression. “I am your friend, Nigredo. You just have to choose if you want to be mine.” She watched him carefully, serious. “I’ll stand by you, if you let me.” Because no one should have to be alone. Least of all, for her reason. “I’m not going to walk away.”
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They were. She probably was herself, and the chance was high Senna did not understand the consequences of those words. She, however, had not hesitated. More importantly, she had stood by her statements. So far, at any rate.
A strained silence transpired for a single minute, before the child nodded. Without further prompting, he holstered his gun, speaking quietly in the process. "I'll explain everything he said," began Nigredo, "in the morning. But please--" He inhaled, the breath taken in with difficulty. "--keep this to yourself."
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But past misconceptions could shift behavior. Like a training device, bad experiences could set the bar for everything else. If she took that to be the fact in this case, something that made sense with the conversations that they'd had before, then a lot more fit into place. And she almost hated the understanding, because it wasn't something that the boy had given her. She had gotten the information cheaply, without his approval, and it almost gave her a feeling like she had to make it up. Or, at the very least, prove his darker self wrong.
And as if he knew her thoughts, Nigredo spoke. And instantly Senna shook her head, reaching a hand to his shoulder. "Don't bother if you don't want to, Nigredo. If you want to tell me, I'll listen, but don't feel like you have to explain anything. Your secrets and your emotions are your own, right?" The girl smiled. "I'd rather you tell me when you want to. And I'm not going to say anything, silly."
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Nigredo, on the other hand, despite staying as quiet as the other, heard more than necessary. Took in less than perhaps was intended, but it was more than enough. The child could see the effort: Senna was not attempting to dismiss the issues altogether.
As for what they happened to be addressing, he had to be taken care of. "I want to tell you," Nigredo answered, his voice dull. "I don't enjoy misunderstandings, for one. For another--" There was an abrupt silence. Something didn't strike as quite right. "In any case, it's impossible to leave...it. What do we do?"
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Minato listened silently to the intercom as the voices resounded through the institute, lifting a hand to his head as the feedback made his head ache briefly. When one has a clear goal in mind...
Cryptic, and ringing with the truth. There was give and take in everything that was done in life; if someone has only one goal in mind, they can relentlessly go after it with everything they have. He had seen it in his friends, through the bonds he had made with them over the months.
And he knew the same applied to him. How much had he already done to get rid of the Shadows? Trespassed, put himself and his friends in danger, freed Death...
He shook his head. The broadcast was over and he was wasting time.
There was little reason to linger in the hallway, especially when he knew where he wanted to go. He had gotten a decent look around the central hallway on the second floor, and knew well enough now to stay away from open rooms like the Sun Room as much as he could. But other than that, he found himself not especially picky; between the two stairwells in this hallway, he simply chose the one closer to him.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/996353.html?thread=74097409#t74097409)]