Nightshift 19: Soccer/Recreational Field
[Coming from herePushing the door open, Kurama was surprised to find himself stepping out into the dark night, cool air meeting his skin and giving the redhead goosebumps. Almost surprised enough to forget his present annoyance with Karasu. Almost
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Well, if Karasu was going to cooperate, he might as well get to work...quickly. Normally, he'd just slip one of his plants into the lock, break it from the inside and that would be that. At this point in his career, normal locks were so simple that they were boring. But he couldn't rely on his plants this time. Not with his powers as they were. He'd have to pick the lock the old-fashioned way. And he'd have to make his tools from scratch as well.
Slipping his fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, he expertly untangled a seed from his locks, pulling it out once more. He hadn't tried this yet, but he hoped it would work. Transferring some of his energy through to the seed, a shoot rapidly broke out of its encasing and began to lengthen. Unlike a normal flower, however, the shoot only formed one blossom with no leaves, while the roots were replaced by a pointed tip.
It didn't take much more than a few seconds for the rose dart to form, but the result left Kurama disoriented from the energy loss. It took him by surprise at first, having never experienced such a thing before, and he quickly placed a hand against the shed to steady himself, trying to keep an eye on Karasu and the woman at the same time. Was this strange effect also the building's doing? It had to be...
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Normally, one would expect someone to shriek or loosen his or her grip on a weapon when injured and/or lacking air. Sadly, Daniella was not normal. In fact, she had continued to cackle until the hand decided to choke her, and even then, her main response was an annoyed groan at being held down. She struggled, her hand tightening the grip on the glass even still, no matter the ugly cuts she retained, or the pink, transparent liquid that slowly trailed from these wounds.
"Azoth… will. Be… mine," she said quietly, raising her free hand to strike the man whose grip she had found herself in.
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Upon seeing her moving hand coming across in hopes of making rough contact with his cheek, he quickly ducked back, though not enough to catch a rather large portion of the blow. Cursing incoherently, Karasu ignored the stinging sensation in his cheek, refusing to release the woman’s arm as he sunk his nails in even deeper and moved his hand away from her neck to quickly reach for her other arm as he made a rough lunge forward as though in attempt to knock her backwards.
If he could get her on the ground and pin her there, that would be a miracle in itself. Perhaps if she was as weak as her apperance made her seem, he could buy Kurama a bit more time with his lock-picking.
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Shoving his thoughts aside, Kurama took the rose dart firmly in his hand and snapped it in half. One down... Kurama thought, looking over the broken tip. The slim pointed end would make a fair enough pick...but the wrench was going to be harder to make.
After sticking the pick through the cloth of his shirt to keep from losing it, Kurama then took up the blossom half of the dart. Grasping the broken end firmly between his fingers, he began bending it, putting small amounts of energy into it while doing so to keep it from snapping like it had before--almost as if he were forcing it to grow to a right angle. He felt the dizziness begin to cloud his mind a bit, but it wasn't nearly as bad as a few moments ago. Still, it was enough to cause his fingers to slip, a hiss of pain following as he cut open his thumb on one of the thorns. If he had been brought up as any less of a gentleman, there might have been a cuss or two.
Bringing the cut to his lips, he sucked on it for a moment before picking up the bent stem he'd dropped and moving to the door.
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Her laughing became more manic as she pushed back against who was weighing her down, struggling to get free before her mouth opened wider in a maddened shriek. She was not strong, she knew that, but nothing they could do would hurt her.
Nothing could hurt her.
It only made her laugh louder, much as it did when she freed her leg to shove it quickly into the gut of the rather feisty patient. Manners were just harder and harder to find these days…
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But he did-he released once of her wrists, that is, the other grip having loosened considerably before it tightened again, his place over the maid having faintly faltered, though he tried his hardest to keep his ground.
The maid’s laughing was unnerving, -very- unnerving. It wasn’t about to affect his grip on her, but it certainly was putting a loud ringing tone in his ears as she only got louder and louder. He almost felt that he had no place to call himself crazy-not after seeing this...place. But then again…
Moving his other hand again he went to grab at the manically giddy woman’s momentarily freed hand. The pain in his stomach was slowly diminishing, allowing him better movement and his adrenaline along with the idea of staying alive added to it.
“How are you doing…?” he asked Kurama, a bit surprised at himself for even asking or thinking to ask to begin with.
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It was tedious work, which made Kurama all the more on edge considering the psychotic woman that Karasu was currently grappling with. It would have been frustrating to anyone else, trying to hurriedly complete a task that by nature took concentration and patience, but Kurama was used to it. This was how he'd started off his career about 300 years ago.
The redhead barely heard Karasu's question, he was so intent on his lock-picking skills. "Getting there..." he muttered back in a preoccupied tone, his gaze fixed on the lock as he heard another tumbler click into place. He couldn't afford to look away, couldn't afford to break his concentration. If he loosened the torque on the lock, he'd lose the progress he'd made so far and would have to start over.
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She was made to be the perfect woman. Sadly, despite all her beauty and obedience, all Daniella had become was the perfect monster.
Her arm was free, just for that brief moment, but it was enough. The time was enough for her to shriek in anger and disgust as the raised hand swung back, took aim, and immediately rocketed the sharp glass through the air and at the man by the shed.
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“Kurama!" came his warning shout, without even the smallest hesitation. Even as much as he would have liked to see the fox demon immersed in his own blood as he had once before, he had a bit more to worry about in the place of his sick fetishes.
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A hiss of pain passed between clenched teeth as Kurama let go of the makeshift tools to clutch at his new wound. Damn it! Kurama swore silently, knowing he'd lost the progress he'd been making on the lock. But this was suddenly more important. The woman didn't matter anymore, either, considering she was now apparently unarmed.
Wincing in pain, Kurama grabbed the edge of the glass--now slippy with his own blood and staining his torn sleeve a darker shade of grey--and pulled it from his arm, angrily tossing it on the ground away from where Karasu and the woman were wrestling. He didn't want to think about that woman's blood being on the glass as well and what that could mean for him. Right now, he just wanted into this shed to get whatever it was this woman didn't want them to get. It was almost half out of spite, half out of usefulness at this point. With a bit of curiosity sprinkled in.
Moving back to the shed door, he restarted his task of picking the lock, ignoring the blood that tickled down his arm. He'd been savagely beaten to the point of being unable to stand before, bone peeking through wounds, almost dead... By the same person he was now grudgingly working with... If he could continue on then, he could certainly do it now, albeit with a little shakiness in his right arm.
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Still...maybe he could convince Sora to draw it or something later. He really wanted to have a visual, because there were so many different types of keys. Where he was from, the things were rare, artifacts from a lost age, and there were so many other technological security measures that one could set for something.
Before too long, the boys reached the end of the hall, and Sora opened the door at the end. "Come on!" he said over his shoulder as he walked through it, and Junior followed, quite pleased to find that it led outside. However, it didn't take long to also see that they weren't alone. It seemed as though there was some trouble going on out here. There was a long man with long black hair and a woman who seemed to be causing some problems, and both seemed to be facing a smaller building.
"Want to see what's up?" the redhead asked Sora.
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Even though Sora could barely see a thing, he was pleased that they had made it outside. They were only on a moist, grassy field of some sort--and it wasn't even wild considering how well-trimmed the grass was--but it was something. He wasn't used to being cooped up inside for so long. Most people weren't, but he'd spent the majority of his childhood outside. Inside had been boring, after all.
The times they were let out into the gardens or the courtyard was preferable to wandering around outside at night, when there was no doubt nasty creatures about, but he wasn't going to scorn his good luck.
Unfortunately, the happiness of being outdoors was soon crushed when he also realized that something was wrong. He couldn't see particularly well, but he heard the sounds of a scuffle and some rather crazed laughing. It wasn't a special counseling night, was it? He didn't recall the intercom announcing it...
What was going on, then?
Figuring it might be a good idea to approach the scene quietly, he only nodded at Junior before slowly heading across the field.
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