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damned_institute2010-12-12 11:47 pm
autophoenix.livejournal.com) wrote in damned_institute2010-12-12 11:47 pm
Entry tags:
- aidou,
- claire bennet,
- claude,
- indiana jones,
- l,
- lunge,
- mccoy,
- peter parker,
- ranulf,
- ritsu,
- sasuke,
- scar (tlk),
- sechs,
- snow,
- the scarecrow,
- two-face,
- zack
NIGHT 53: WEST WING, NORTH HALL 1-A
[ from here ]
The doors to the next hallway were already wide open when she came through, though the ones at the far end of the hall were, as she could see from one brief flick of her flashlight, were tightly shut. Weren't those the doors to the recreational field? They were in the hall directly North of hers, it only made sense for this to be the other exit.
Checking down the hall also told her she was alone, and she was suddenly very grateful for the fact that the door to Peter's block was directly to her left, because the longer she spent in the male patient blocks, the more paranoid she grew that she was somehow going to stumble straight into Sylar.
Her pace picked up instantly at that thought and she pushed open the door to the block that Peter had directed her to, hoping his directions were right and that she'd remembered them well enough.
[ to here ]
The doors to the next hallway were already wide open when she came through, though the ones at the far end of the hall were, as she could see from one brief flick of her flashlight, were tightly shut. Weren't those the doors to the recreational field? They were in the hall directly North of hers, it only made sense for this to be the other exit.
Checking down the hall also told her she was alone, and she was suddenly very grateful for the fact that the door to Peter's block was directly to her left, because the longer she spent in the male patient blocks, the more paranoid she grew that she was somehow going to stumble straight into Sylar.
Her pace picked up instantly at that thought and she pushed open the door to the block that Peter had directed her to, hoping his directions were right and that she'd remembered them well enough.
[ to here ]
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Scar silently entered the next hallway, looking around in the darkness as he silently closed the door behind him. He had yet to hear of monsters so close to the patient blocks, but he wasn't about to take any risks.
He supposed it helped that the lack of a torch wouldn't make him a walking prey practically begging to be attacked, but he still found it rather irritating he no longer had his. He could only hope the Scarecrow would figure out whether he'd still had it or not.
The mere idea made him roll his eyes.
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And here he was. It was more or less the shortest trip he could have made, so Harvey had no complaints about this being the place where they always met. Though on the other hand, it also usually meant that he got here first, leaving him to wait. He wasn't the most patient of people, even if he logically knew that Jones had a farther way to walk.
Leaning himself against the wall, Harvey closed his eyes and just enjoyed the feeling of his wound being freed. It could actually breathe now, and if people who passed by thought it right to stare at him, then that was their problem.
He still didn't know if they were taking Recluse along again, seeing how the man hadn't ever replied to Jones' bulletin note as far as he'd seen. He'd just have to wait and see, but he'd have to keep an eye out for his large form as well. Honestly, who was even that tall?
[Waiting for Indy.]
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Dent was already waiting--and had been for a couple of minutes, judging by the way he was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. They'd worked together enough that Indy was used to seeing the other man's cutaway face by now; the instinctive recoil from the burned flesh and the exposed gap above the jaw hit him only briefly when he first walked up and subsided without registering on his own face. What the hell caused that kind of wound on exactly half your body, Indy wondered again. It didn't seem likely that you'd be facing an explosion in perfect profile and end up with injuries like that.
Whatever it had been, Dent wasn't talking, and Indy wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Evening," he said as he approached. "Ready to get an early start, I see."
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Either way, he didn't really care so long as the man didn't say anything, and he didn't. Opening his eyes, he glanced over at the archaeologist and nodded.
"Not sure if it's going to do us much good, though," he admitted. He didn't think that a bit of skepticism was amiss in this case, as Jones was likely feeling the same way. Glancing back down the way the man had come from, he saw that he was alone. "Are we waiting on anyone else?"
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"Well, we haven't had much luck with either the outside route or the Sun Room," he said, while they were discussing travel plans. "Any other bright ideas, or should we just make a run for it?" He sure hadn't come up with anything better. In fact, if they were going to have to dash past the rumored guardian of the basement, it might not be such a bad idea to work up some momentum ahead of time.
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Seeing how Jones had made the same judgments about their progress thus far that he had, Harvey figured he might as well toss out his earlier idea. "Well, we could try scaling the wall, but into the courtyard instead of out to the surrounding area," he suggested. "It'll bypass the Sun Room, at least." Harvey knew that the courtyard or the soccer field were likely to have nasty things that wanted to deter them just as much as the Sun Room did, but at least it would be a change of pace.
As much as he hated climbing walls.
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[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1022488.html)]
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Of course, heading down to the Sun Room was pretty much the easiest path to take, and so Zack didn't have to focus too hard on where he was going. When he'd been led there each morning it wasn't exactly rocket science to get back there. Not to mention the fact that he'd met Aidou and Sasuke there before. He did find it odd that Aidou had asked for them to all meet there when their rooms were in the same hallway, but maybe he thought it would be faster this way. There was probably some truth to that belief, since Zack knew that he usually did things faster on his own.
This place didn't really allow him that option, though, and he knew it.
Noticing two men who were both actually older him (a rarity in this place) and who were already in the middle of a conversation (they'd met up fast!), Zack then glanced in the opposite direction. Straight down the hall, take a left. It was almost too easy. Shaking his head, he continued on.
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Okay. He was outside in one of the halls. The people who knew where the Patient Possessions Room was were supposed to be meeting him in one of the main hallways. Which he assumed was one of the bigger ones up front. He had a vague description for who to look for so this shouldn't be too hard.
Snow was in a bit of a rush to keep going so he quickly felt along in the direction of where the door to the next hall wa-- BAM.
...Ow.
Okay, he'd meant to find the door with his hands not his face. But... that worked. He quickly found the knob and went on through the door.
[to here]
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So far there didn't appear to be any monsters (or many people, for that matter). Considering how early it was, though, that wasn't so surprising. It just meant that there would be fewer obstacles in his way, which in turn meant that he could get to Mason's friend that much faster.
Sprinting around the corner, Claude promptly headed south. His flashlight beam jostled with every rushed step, and he only had the sounds of his breathing and heartbeat to keep him company. The weight of his sword wasn't forgotten, though. It was a reminder that he still had some power, that he wasn't useless despite the way the last several nights had gone.
Gritting his teeth with a fresh rush of determination, he continued ahead.
((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1017510.html?thread=74770086#t74770086).))
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It felt good, Lunge realised, to step out in his own clothes again. Very good. Far better than he had anticipated. He felt less exposed, less cornered, less like the Institute was dogging his every move and crowding him in with grey. And while he realised that the effect was largely psychosomatic, and while he understood the psychology of it- having a piece of his individuality returned to him, being better equipped to project an air of authority (suit= professional, that was written into most people's minds), being less physically exposed- part of him simply didn't care. Or didn't want to care. Now that he had a suit, he was officially back to work. Thank God.
Which, hopefully, boded well for the two of them tonight. Provided they could avoid the Institute's various perils, they would hopefully be able to get far more of a thorough investigation underway then they had managed so far. Jones had been a useful colleague to bring along, more useful still to speak with, but with just himself and L traveling they could hopefully move faster and attract less unwanted attention. That they'd been the ones to walk into certain danger that night didn't matter- a larger group was a larger target. Simple logic. The point was, with his wrist still twinging, Lunge wasn't sure how capable of defending himself he would be, and if they were trapped out in the open...
... it didn't matter. That was a risk that he was more than willing to take- and he was almost certain that L felt the same. He stopped by the door to the recreational field and waiting, flashlight aimed at the floor. If they were as fortunate as Landel was self-important, there was also the chance that they'd still be able to hear the intercom from the ruins; he struck Lunge as the sort to like his own voice well enough to want other people to hear it from wherever they were. Yes. Danger aside, this night had the potential to be very useful, and Lunge would take full advantage of it.
This was the suit he'd taken to Ruhenheim, after all.
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It was annoying to travel this way, so encumbered, but given the need to have most of these items at hand, carrying them in a pillowcase wouldn't have been any better. Some night—not tonight—he'd have to find a real bag; until then, pockets left him with the least to handle. He'd have to worry about getting the flashlight and brush axe over the wall when the time came.
There was Lunge, waiting at the end of the corridor, his feet bathed in a small pool of light. Even from a distance, L could see that he had also found a surprise in his closet.
"A proper agent of the BKA, hm?" he said, by way of greeting. He didn't smile, but the lightness of his tone made it obvious both that he was joking, and that he felt well enough to joke.
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Footsteps. Lunge turned expectantly and was met with a surprisingly wry greeting from someone who'd barely been able to stand the night before. "Naturally. You didn't expect any less," he answered, smiling just a little in acknowledgment and just a little out of genuine pleasure to see the man moving more easily while he made a physical assessment. L's head was still wrapped in bandages, but- what was this? No Institute uniform tonight- under the standard overcoat he could a pair of blue jeans. Those certainly weren't regulation.
Another mysterious reappearance, then. He opened the door and stepped out, holding it open for L with his foot.
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She flashed Peter a thankful smile for his assurance of secrecy as they moved through the doors into the north hall, putting the room number issue at priority over this name game -- it wasn't like she didn't know the difference between them, it was only going to be a problem where mentioning them to others was concerned, and the potential for them to run into one another all at once. Knowing that her room number was safe was a little more important than that possibility.
"Yeah, you'd better not. Louisville slugger, remember?" It was said mostly in jest but she couldn't honestly say she wouldn't be prepared to deck him with it if Sylar decided to show up on her doorstep some night. Better not to think about that, though. She'd rather not find a need to knock around someone she'd kind of been hoping she could consider an ally. So, she kept a smile up and moved on.
"Anyway. I don't wanna force some weird nickname on you or anything, but one of you might want to start considering it. I'll leave the floor open to suggestions from now, but I'm not above picking one for you myself and chances are it's going to be embarrassing." There was amusement to her expression as she ribbed him -- a good way to forget about the whole messy Sylar possibility, that was sure. In fact, considering they were both hoping for a relatively light duty night, it wasn't all that out of place. How hard could flashlight retrieval be? Especially with Bella's help on the storage room front.
Not only that, though, but the north hall was relatively well populated this time -- people had come out of their rooms while Claire had been hiding down at the end of the hallway at Peter's -- and none of them looked altogether too dangerous. Strength in numbers, right? She tried to take that reassurance and just not question it.
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Truthfully, he hadn't been all that shocked by the revelation that there was another Peter here. The weird part was him and Peter One having the same initials, hometown, and even the same kind of haircut. Close enough to it, anyway. Oh yeah, and both of them had superpowers. As far as he could tell that was where the similarities ended, and frankly he hoped that remained the case. Anything further would just wind up in Freaky Town.
Once they'd passed through to the next block, the patient numbers increased. Everyone was on their way to the main hall, just like always. And - oh hey, Indy was here. Looked like he was hanging out with Bandages again, even if the name didn't fit so well when he had peeled them all off. Peter tried not to wince when he caught side of the skinless half of his face (having already been exposed to it helped), and gave the pair a smile and a small wave from his sling hand.
He had met Bandages without his mask before, so it wouldn't totally come off as ruining his cover. Right?
If it weren't for the flashlight he would have been raising a hand in protest at Claire's next comment. "Whoa now, no need to make with the baseball bat. All right? I am a man of my word. You keep my room number secret, and I'll do the same with yours." Seeing as how they were in eerily similar situations regarding that, he felt he could trust her to keep things hush-hush. Even if she wasn't aware of the circumstances with Grell (and she would never be, cross your heart and hope to die). Room security was a priority issue whether you had a psycho on your trail or not, so it was only common courtesy to keep anything you knew to yourself.
Somehow, they had boomeranged back to the Peter-Peter issue. Peter groaned when she threatened him with a nickname. Were the numbers really such a terrible compromise? "It's going to be something horrendous like 'PeeWee', isn't it? God, if there is any reference in there to Baby Peter or being short or something, I am legally permitted to have my revenge. Capisce?" He frowned, scavenging his mind for a suitable possibility.
The options were limited. "Um. My middle name is Ben?" That would be much too weird though, because that name would always belong to his Uncle (and sometimes Ben Urich), so Peter shook his head and carried on. "Look, would calling me Pete be too confusing? Because Ben is my Uncle's name. And I'm not sure I'd answer to much anything else without having to think twice on it."
Failing that there was Badou's preferred moniker, but Peter wanted to avoid that one at all costs. Call him insecure, but Peter didn't fancy the idea of being called 'Snowflake' for the rest of his time here.
[To here.]
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The Scarecrow moved quickly, only tripping on his foot once as he crossed the third hallway. He tried to count back the days, figure out how long he'd been at the Institute, how long he'd had to adjust to his human condition, but his mind was too focused on other matters: if people had returned to the institute after their first stay, that meant there was a chance they could recover and sort themselves out again. After all, why would Wizard Landel bring them back otherwise? With the way he ran things, he was sure to be angry if someone had broken free of his spells- wicked people often felt they had to be in control of everything.
He still didn't know if Abe had been brainwashed or if he'd managed to escape. The latter seemed unlikely, given Abe's desire to help others, but if he was truly dead, then he probably couldn't be helped at all; however, those who were certainly still around and bewitched, like Dorothy, were still within reach. If only he could find his body and his brain, he could find a way out!
[And to here.]
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Claude jogged at a fairly quick pace as he continued down the hall. It didn't occur to him that he probably needed to be taking it easy since he wasn't fully recovered from his own experiment. Even if he'd thought of that, though, it wouldn't have mattered. His condition didn't change the fact that he'd needed to deliver that message for Mason, nor did it change that he needed to get back to Guy as soon as possible.
Thankfully, there still weren't any monsters blocking his path. But Claude wasn't going to take that for granted. He knew how quickly things could change within the institute, especially at night.
With that thought in mind, he quickly turned and headed into the next hallway.
((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1018098.html?thread=74803698#t74803698).))
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McCoy hoped that, as he walked, he'd find a way to put it behind him just like they had. Even despite what he personally thought of it, he needed to work with Spock and be professional about it. That meant trying to get past it.
It also just wasn't working. His mind was racing, painting various ways that Spock's attempt on Jim's life could have gone down. Spock certainly wasn't going to say what happened and his imagination was more than happy to do the rest. He'd tried to throttle Kirk, that's what that shadow of his had said, and but he was coming up with all sorts of scenarios here. All extremely violent. The worst part was that it didn't matter which scenario his imagination painted up; in every single one, Spock could explain every single one away with a logical reason without batting an eye and sound reasonable, even as he was doing his best to take out Jim.
McCoy's knuckles tightened on the first aid kit as he walked. It was funny that it didn't seem too big a leap to picture Spock doing any amount of those things nowadays.
But Spock always had it in him before, didn't he? First that business with how he punished crew for the smallest infractions (agonizers might not be fatal but they left plenty of other damage on the individual in other ways) to what he did to those that had tried to take his position. Frankly, the agony booth looked like a walk in the park next to what he or his Vulcan operatives could do.
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Even though there was nothing tying her to the conversation she'd caught a snippet from as she jogged through, the name still echoed. Elena. She didn't even know Bothari-Jezek well, though she had some connection to Miles neither he nor anyone else had bothered to explain. Not that she'd asked; there were things Taura wasn't on the need-to-know list for, and why a couple of ex-Barrayaran minor nobility were running around a mercenary outfit definitely qualified. At least she thought they were important; maybe nobility wasn't the right word. Other Barrayarans twitched when they walked in, though some of that was evidently due to some odd rules about women in combat. Given that one of the few things everyone knew was that Elena could out-shoot, out-wrestle, and out-plan her engineer husband as well as most of the Dendarii's makeshift brass, they should twitch before offering her insult.
Connections. Invisible strings tying Taura to Miles, and Miles to Elena, and her to an entire planet. Or the other way; Taura was tracing one strand to its abrupt end this night.
Could last night have been about forging, rather than severing, connections? Reverse psychology worked on grown men and women and herms almost as well as children. Pull something new-formed apart, just a bit, and watch both halves scramble to take hold. But why would Landel want his prisoners to become closer? Even the best company wouldn't make this place a paradise, and he couldn't possibly believe they'd fall for that. Could he?
[skipping a hall to here]
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Taura had been engineered to have a high pain tolerance; pierced ears were nothing compared to being grazed by explosive needle darts. The water standing in her eyes as she ran had nothing to do with the fresh wounds on her ears, and everything to do with those on her heart. She'd been left behind, again, and she couldn't pin her hopes on a second miraculous rescue.
One to a lifetime. If she wanted to get out of here, she was on her own. And she had a meeting to attend.
[to here]
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While Ritsu’s footsteps were usually shuffling and effeminate, there was something different about how his feet dragged across the smooth floor of the hallway this night. His gait was less frantic and fearful than most would remember, and his pace had a rather a slow, listless rhythm. Uncertain. Lost.
He let out a shaking, almost rattling sigh, daintily wiping at the tears which blurred his vision to near blindness in the darkness around him. His flashlight was almost no help, considering the half-hearted way he held it – most of the beam hit the floor, only managing to illuminate the few feet in front of him, though this didn’t seem to affect his movements.
The young man continued to move, pausing every so often to dab at his eyes before proceeding. Going somewhere, anywhere, even he wasn’t sure, his mind too full and too empty all at once.
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The crowds showed no sign of abating. Javert only quickened his pace. There was little to be gained from watching anyone else.
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All things considered, the meeting with Sechs had been far from ideal. Most importantly, it had wasted precious time. Javert turned his steps toward the outside hallway with purpose. There were patients upstairs who needed assistance.
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Russia pushed out into the larger hallway, not bothering with a light. Japan should have gotten a nice party together to go up to get his scarf back, so he stepped a little lighter, thinking of the new friends he would be making. Of course, Japan was old and feeble, so it was possible there wouldn't be very many.
He strolled at an easy pace, not bothered by the hurry or panic that seemed to fill the patients around him.
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1014975.html?thread=74764735#t74764735)]
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The door to this hallway was open for some reason... odd. Ranulf scanned the hallway, drawing even more information on his map as he decided what to do next.
He could continue on or head to the left. Thinking about it, he decided to take the left doorway. It'd probably be better to scan this whole area first, before advancing onward. Grabbing the door handle, he slipped his way through.
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Still, if worst came to worst, she did have a weapon to protect them with - and even if she didn't know how to use it very well, she knew she would at least try. Plus, Sora could summon the keyblade if they were in total danger ... so that was always a good thing to remember.
However, Kairi didn't want them to get in enough trouble to have Sora summon it. That would mean that something bad was happening, right? She had only seen him call the keyblade once or twice her entire stay in the institute, and that had only been when they had been in rather bad situations.
But you can't think like that! Kairi told herself sternly, and she gave a slight shake of her head, as if she was actually shaking the thoughts away. Everything will be fine. You'll see.
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"I'm good," he shrugged, pushing ahead enough to catch the door that led outside. "Don't worry about it."
[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/1022488.html?thread=75029784#t75029784)]
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The next hallway had nothing too out of the ordinary so far. There was the usual darkness, the fleeting figures of other patients going on their own paths, and the constant state of alert that was shared amongst all who were out of their rooms after sundown.
Sechs recognized some of the faces that darted in and out of the scattered beams of numerous flashlights, but he made no effort to socialize or be recognized himself. He didn't want to be stopped by a concerned friend like Kibitoshin, or another patient seeking revenge for Sechs' actions as a brainwashed guard the night before.
He quickened his pace.
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"Nothing added up," continued Soma as they headed further down the hall. "As far as I could tell, it seemed like the entire building was set up, and there weren't any clues as to what could have happened there, either. It was a little like someone had built the schoolhouse based entirely on things they'd heard about America."
The door to the rec field was just ahead. Hopefully it wasn't guarded tonight; she didn't want to waste ammunition. "Were there any signs of what had happened at the camp you found?"
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"I see. With regards to the camp, we did find bones in the area, although neither Ishida nor I were able to verify their origin. If they were human, it does raise some interesting questions..." It sounded like something Landel would do, callously raze a makeshift settlement like that.
"And...forgive me for my ignorance, but what exactly is this 'America'?" As he asked the question, though, he knew that he wouldn't be fully paying attention to the answer: they were swiftly approaching the recreational field, and he needed to be well on his guard.
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"It's a country in my world--on my home planet," she clarified. "A lot of people seem to be from my planet, and general consensus seems to be that we're still on it. There are rumors we're in America now--I've never been there, even in my own time, so I wouldn't really know if they're true."
She pushed the door open. "What I was saying about the stars on the flag--America is composed of fifty states, but the last two states didn't become part of the country until the mid-twentieth century, and the schoolhouse looked like something from the nineteenth. Like I said, it didn't make sense."
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The second was less simple. The news of which Sasuke was aware of late was on too small a scale; appearances and disappearances amongst those he knew from his own world, news that had no bearing here and certainly none on Aidou. What he did know was days old, and in this place a day was an eon. When had he last had twenty-four hours in full, without losing time?
"I've learned little in the previous days," he said finally, in the same viciously flat tone. There was no option to select truthfulness for its effectiveness; there was simply no other option. "All I am aware of is that it has become considerably easier to explore the grounds well beyond the Institute. I am uncertain as to whether this is a factor of the patients' experience or if there were forces in place earlier holding us in check."
Toying with them. They had been given freer rein for some reason, of that much Sasuke was certain, but he wanted to hear whether Aidou had his own suspicions as to the reason, or if the vampire felt that it was merely a matter of not having reached them before.
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Getting answers, for instance, was a dilemma both continued to hack away at, slowly and ineffectively.
Surprise revelations like the one Hime had dropped on him were bordering dangerously close on sheer good luck, so he was not surprised to hear that Sasuke hadn’t amassed anything of note in the last little while. His postulation, however, was undeniable. “I’ve noticed that as well,” he replied, remembering Anise and the specimens she had stashed away in that toy of hers. The game, such as it was, just kept larger and more elaborate. Considering the length of time they’d both had to observe the Institute, only a fool would’ve failed to notice the changes.
[to here]