damned_institute | Night 52: Main Hallway, 2-East

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1001110.html?view=73869718#t73869718)]

Even though Matthew was aware that he was a human being rather than a nation now, that awareness did nothing to help make him feel more concerned about how from now on, "being shot" very likely equaled death for him. Rather, the Canadian was moreorless scared of being shot because, he knew from first hand experience, that it really, really hurt.

However, his main concern was the possibility of either one of his companions getting killed or him getting wounded and resultantly dragging down the rest of the group.

Fortunately, neither happened, and as they reached a distance far enough away from the woman, Matthew risked a glance behind them. The woman appeared to be focused on the two people in front of her, and fortunately had forgotten their existence at the moment. Normally that would have frustrated Matthew, but in this situation he was thankful. Still, he hoped that the two people currently facing her would be okay.

"She's fighting them...but we should probably get out of this hallway as soon as possible...otherwise we might get hit by a stray bullet." Matthew said, glancing quickly between Roxas and Scott before returning his attention towards the blond woman. If she so much as looked in their direction, than he'd make a quick dash for the hallway to his right. "B-But...why is she shooting at us? She didn't look like a monster at all! Well...there was her hand....but..."

Edited 2010-10-27 11:31 (UTC)

A searing shot across Scott's cheek. Though it was just a graze, a bullet getting so close to blowing his face open was enough to send his legs into overdrive, powering him up to max speed and agility. He dashed and dodged more shots until he was out of Robobitch's immediate range, then just kept on running. Red stamina bars flashed and blared warnings in his head that if he kept this speed up, he was going to burn out.

It didn't take long to reach the end of 2-East, where he skidded to a stop and slumped back against a side wall, waiting for the others to catch up. He hadn't burned out, thankfully, but pushing himself like that was making him breathe harder, and his limbs felt shaky from the adrenaline. He swiped at his burning cheek with a free hand, palm coming away smeared with blood. Did that count as getting shot? Painful as it was, the graze was miraculously shallow. For now, he was going to count the wound as sucky, but not mega-sucky like his previous injuries, at least.

He was joined soon enough by Roxas and Other Matt, both about equally shaken, if not more so in Matty's case. "Special Counselling. I was about to say," Scott said between pants of breath after the question, holding the sleeve of his jacket over his cheek and hoping that would stop some of the bleeding. "Ugh, every night, Landel grabs a few people and messes with their heads. Turns them evil, gives them back all their powers and weapons and stuff, and makes them, like, boss enemies or something for the night. And it really, really sucks. Don't fight them. Ever."

He didn't explain much beyond that yet. Talking too much made his face sting. He agreed that they needed to get out of this hall fast, though, and so he pointed to the corner they needed to turn. With a nod, he lead their merry band into the next hall quickly and quietly.

[To here]

[From here. (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/996353.html?thread=73889537#t73889537)]

As eager as he was to figure out the source of all of the commotion, Kiba wasn’t completely stupid. He was a shinobi, after all. He could act like one from time to time. He kept his footfalls as quiet as as he could manage, not wanting to draw undue attention to himself as he halted at the doorway's threshold, peering outside as he tried to take stock the situation outside. Seeing that the fight—and it was a fight all right, no doubt about that (was that guy carrying a freakin' door?)—was taking place some distance away, he exited, keeping his head low and back towards the wall, waiting for Niikura to follow.

Keeping his eyes trained on the battle just down the hall, his brows suddenly furrowed in confusion. His nose was telling him one thing, his eyes another. The girl that seemed to be at the center of it all didn’t appear to be much of a girl at all. 'She' was where the odd, metallic smell was originating from, he was sure of it. Or reasonably sure, at least. It would certainly explain why the other patients were fighting her. She looked human, but, whatever she was, she certainly didn't smell like anything with blood running through its veins.

He blinked. "It a puppet or something? That girl?” he said in a mumbled whisper, almost more to himself than his traveling companion. He turned, making for the hallway where he assumed the patient possessions were housed. He moved as carefully as he could, though his eyes were always drawn back to the fight, unable to really look away for more than a few seconds at a time.

He knew plenty of shinobi who used puppets back home. It'd be only fitting if the doctor used them, too.

Edited 2010-10-31 08:33 (UTC)

"Hm?" Niikura trotted up the remaining stairs and then mindlessly aimed his flashlight down the hall, searching for the girl that Kiba had mentioned. "Uh..." She sure looked like a regular girl to him; what was it that made Kiba think she might be something different? Something about her feet? They did look sort of weird...but then again, they were pretty far off, and he sure as hell didn't have superhuman senses. He could be mistaken. "What makes ya think that?"

For him, the identity of tonight's brainwashed soul didn't really matter; he was definitely more interested in the man that had run by moments ago with a door. That was probably the man from this morning, the one that Izaya had described as a 'monster'. Niikura had never found out his name; perhaps that would have to be amended in the near future.

Yes, the future - another time, when small talk was more appropriate. He shook his head and smiled to himself before following after Kiba.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/997123.html?thread=73918211#t73918211)]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1001110.html?thread=73771926#t73771926)]

This hall still had sounds of the battle from behind echoing off the halls, but at least it was a little quieter and less full of death robots that couldn't possibly exist. Japan felt a little calmer, too. At least he did until he remembered who he was with. He let out a sigh that could be relief or could be resignation and looked up at Russia.

If only he'd succeeded back at Germany's house all those years ago, maybe he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.

"Is it much farther, Russia-san?"

Russia did flinch just a bit when the girl in the last hallway took a few potshots that landed a little too close, but it wasn't enough to frighten or deter him from his task. Getting to the room where his things were was of the highest priority. At least the noise was enough to get Japan moving. Maybe his old bones were getting to him and that was why he'd been so sluggish tonight. At any rate, it wasn't much longer to the door.

The intercoms were buzzing with noise but it was hard to tell if it was even worth listening to over the gunfire and fighting going on. "Just around this next corner," he replied. "Are you getting tired already?"

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/997123.html?thread=74009091#t74009091)]

Edited 2010-11-09 03:33 (UTC)

Out of the line of fire- why didn't those guards ever give chase, anyway?- Depth Charge fell back next to the Scarecrow.

"So let me get this straight," he said, very aware of how ridiculous he was about to sound. "The Tin Man went to some wizard guy to find a heart with you, right? What about the rest of you? Don't tell me you were just doing the guy a favour. Why were you going there anyway?" It wasn't the replacing-limbs-with-technology part that had stuck out to him, given that they'd been doing that for centuries, but the magical wizard part? Yeah. That needed some explaining. Anyway, it was probably a good idea to keep the Scarecrow's mind off of the hallway.

Before the Scarecrow had time to comment on the commotion happening in the halls above the Sun Room- another witch? She seemed occupied with several other people- Depth Charge had already taken a position closer to him, making sure they crossed the hallway safely. The former strawman suspected his roommate would know best for the situation, given that he had a working brain and had probably faced similar circumstances in the past- still, he couldn't help but feel some concern that they were possibly leaving some folks in a bad situation.

No time to think about it now. "Well, it all started when Dorothy's house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East. Without any magic of her own, she was told her only way home might be to see if the great and powerful Wizard in the Emerald city could help her. She started down the Yellow Brick Road, meeting myself, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion along the way. I'd been put on a pole to scare crows, but I wasn't any good at it with a head stuffed full of straw and no brains. I was hoping the Wizard could give me some."

[To here.]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1001110.html?thread=73993622#t73993622)]

Leela didn't know if this was the right direction, but she was determined to move, and if it turned out to be wrong, at least she had done something.

She cast a wary eye about, especially in the direction of her own shadow, which was still acting perfectly normal, but she thought she sensed a certain coyness to it, as if it might start climbing the walls by itself any second.

This hall looked deserted, and she breathed a mental sigh of relief, not wanting to tempt fate by breathing a literal one. There were a couple of maybe-promising-looking hallways off this one. "What do you think?"

Guybrush followed Leela down the hallway, eyeing her shadow as well as his own. He rolled his eyes, sighing at his luck. Blinky lights and crazy patients and Elaine being missing, and now his shadow was on the fritz. What else could go wrong? And why was it only his?

"Last I checked, I hadn't been stung by a giant bee," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. It probably wasn't any more pleasant of an experience than being eaten by a giant manatee, and he could only guess what kinds of consequences that adventure would have on him later. The fact that he'd never get the smell of manatee bile out of his jacket was only the start.

Taking a breather next to Leela, Guybrush peered down the dim hallway that branched to the side. "Lots of doors- one of them is bound to have something useful behind it, even if it's not Landel himself or ..."

His eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his shadow as it jerked strangely, not even trying to follow his movements. He sighed again. "I've got a bad feeling about this." Of course, it was only after that phrase had escaped his lips that he remembered nothing good ever came after its utterance. Crud.

Indeed, the bad karma of that phrase was enduring enough that Leela was well aware of it herself, but she thought she'd give Guybrush a pass, under the circumstances. He had every right to a bad feeling. She was sharing it herself.

"You'd know if you had been," she said. "Hm, or maybe you wouldn't. But I sure don't feel like you're hallucinating me. And even if you were, I'd probably be too busy with some cheesy song and dance number to try to convince you you weren't."

It made perfect sense to her.

She could hear voices down the hall he'd indicated. Maybe that would mean someone was down there who could give them some clues. Hopefully someone in a less kill-y sort of mood than the fembot had been. "Yeah, that way looks promising to me." She decided the polite thing to do would be to ignore his shadow's antics.

"All right," Guybrush said with a nod. "Down the hall it is."

He stepped aside, allowing Leela to head through first, waiting a moment before following her. His shadow, not one to be ignored, twisted angrily. Guybrush was not impressed. "Quiet, you."

[To here.]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/996353.html?thread=74097409#t74097409)]

The hallway he entered from the stairwell was not all that different from the one he had just left. He recognized the way the corridor on one side opened up to the Sun Room halls, noting the sounds coming from there. Something --- a battle, most likely -- was going on either on this floor or in the Sun Room itself; either way, he planned to avoid the problem altogether.

Minato spied a closed door along the wall, giving the knob a try. The door turned in his grasp, and that was enough for now; he could get back to the door once he was done exploring the rest of the hall.

He let his left elbow drag against the wall as he headed in the direction of the other stairwell, pausing as the wall sharply stopped for another corridor.

Glancing once over his shoulder at the closed door he was leaving behind, Minato followed the wall into the hallway. Hopefully he would find what he needed before the night was over.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/997123.html?thread=74110467#t74110467)]

Edited 2010-11-20 13:12 (UTC)

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1001110.html?thread=74103702#t74103702)]

One difficult step after another; Shizuo focused on moving, at first paying little attention to the noise overhead. Then, a woman's voice, sounding worse than he did. Stopping, he squinted up at the speaker, oblivious to the blood that had dripped down his leg and now left a thin trail along the floor. Her words were less annoying, overall, than the guy's who'd spoken before, but her obviously poor condition sparked worry. She shouldn't be talking, he would've said, until she said he'll make you see things, and obstinacy won out.

With a scowl, Shizuo said, "Like hell he will, I--"

His head jerked, eyes drawn to his shadow. He'd known something was wrong with it before, instinct had made him certain of it. Now, as he stared at it, his shadow began to twist, rocking in motions independent of his stationary panting. Superfluous limbs and spirals of black licked from its outline; it spasmed, lashed out in violent, furious movements. That wasn't the strangest part. For Shizuo, accustomed to watching Celty manipulate her shadows and smoke, this shouldn't have produced much reaction: but, strangely, it did. His stomach churned. His mouth twisted.

It looked like the bastard had made him see it, after all.

Shizuo was determined, Gren had to give him that. Determined, or crazier than he seemed. Gren decided he didn't want to think about it too much. His gut instinct was to tell the other man to take it a little easier and mind his injuries, but decided that could wait until they were further away from the robot girl. And speaking of...

He could feel the heat radiating from her as he moved past cautiously. Apparently, the fight had taxed her to her limits, though from the twitching, he suspected she wasn't completely down for the count, and he didn't really want to be around when she powered back up again.

There was more of the same hallway in front of them, and Gren was about to ask Shizuo if he wanted to pause to bandage his wounds--Gren would tear up the bedsheet if need be--when the intercom crackled to life again. Gren didn't know what was going on this evening, but he knew he didn't like it. He hated having to stand by and listen while someone else was clearly suffering.

And then the shadows began their mocking dance, twisting and writhing unnaturally around them in a way that was just wrong, leaving him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. And judging from Shizuo's reaction, he wasn't the only one. "Just ignore it," he said, though it was easier said than done. "They're just trying to mess with our heads."

The first Shizuo saw of Gren's approach was his shadow, contorting across the floor and wall. Not just him, then; it didn't surprise him. Gren's advice, though practical, yielded the opposite effect to what the man intended: They're just trying to mess with our heads. Something Shizuo had already concluded, but it became that much more concrete when spoken by someone else. A lot of things pissed Shizuo off. It didn't take much. But, few things he hated like manipulators.

Like the damn flea. Even he couldn't pull something like this off, though Shizuo knew that if Izaya could, he would.

"Bastards," he spat, "Mind game playing bastards! I'll--" His right hand, supporting him, he couldn't swing. The violence of his outburst was halted by this: his left arm trying to swing up, to curl his hand into a fist, to crash into shadows but dent only wall, seized up half-way, the agony of half-a-dozen injuries and reluctant, even unable to respond muscles. Shizuo slumped bodily against the wall, his fingers scrambling to grip ineffectively at his left arm.

"Bastards, bastards, bastardsbastards!" He hissed, and exhaled. And inhaled. Again, and again.

Finally, his hand again braced against the wall, and his limping shuffled. Finally, Shizuo said, "Yeah, I'll ignore it. Until I can't."

An ambiguous line, one easily overlooked from a typical-idiot like Shizuo. What he meant was this: these mangled shadows weren't the last of it. More was coming. He'd barely focused on the night's announcements, but he knew it, as absolutely as he knew that Izaya was a flea.

Gren cringed a little at Shizuo's outburst--not just because he looked like he was hurting himself, but because it was loud and might attract attention. The last thing they needed right now was to get into another fight. He honestly wasn't sure the blond would survive another fight, given the state he was in right now.

"Yeah, I know. Didn't claim it would be easy." Gren was acting calmer about the whole thing that he really was... it was only the fact that Shizuo could see what was going on too that was letting him stay a little detached from the situation. It wasn't just him. He wasn't losing his mind. He just had to do his best to pretend it wasn't happening and keep on going. If he did that, it would be fine. Like hell was he going to let this place mess with his head.

No way any of it would be easy: one of the few concrete conclusions Shizuo had drawn about this place. He hadn't thought Gren had implied it would be, but saying all that, to clarify, seemed like wasted words. Redundant and repeated in some form regardless. Instead, he focused on the remaining hall. Not on their convulsing shadows.

Two doors that lead to stairs. At this point, going back wasn't an option, whether turning around in the hallway or returning to the first floor. Leaving the hall that opened to the left. Shizuo, leaning by necessity against the right wall, looked across. No, this wouldn't be easy, either. His mouth split in a brief grin at that thought, staying parted as his teeth grit and he pushed off the wall.

Shizuo lurched toward the corridor, managing to neither shout nor even grimace as he put weight on his twice shot right leg, mostly dragging it.

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/997123.html?thread=74245891#t74245891)]

Edited 2010-11-26 11:24 (UTC)

Night 52: Main Hallway, 2-East

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