It was like a wave of death that washed over the priest.
This wasn't like the carnage he'd witnessed on the journey west. Compared to all that, this was clean, no blood, no body parts, just the tables large enough for a body and cabinets and lights.
Sanzo would've been more comfortable at least seeing that there was a sign of violence. That he knew, and he could deal with that. This was far more wrong; the sterile air was unnatural, and whatever took place here, wasn't something that should have happened.
For being so spotless, and still having that feeling of death about it, it could only mean one thing: the killings may have happened elsewhere, but something was done here after that made the spirits restless.
Qui-Gon seemed to share Sanzo's distaste. His face in the light of the Earthian glowrod was drawn.
"Over here," he said, beckoning Sanzo closer as he examined a cabinet. Running his hands over it, he could practically feel the sense of death radiating out from it, even without his usual connection to the Force. It was probably a good thing for once that he was without it - it'd probably be overwhelming under normal circumstances.
Opening the cabinet, Qui-Gon peered inside, angling the flashlight so it shone on the contents inside. There were several shelves with trays inside, the instruments inside giving off metallic gleams. He had a good feeling what these were for.
The sense of wrongness seemed to seep through everything, yet Qui-Gon zeroed in on the cabinet. Sanzo would have checked out the cabinet anyway, but the way the other man went towards it, the monk wasn't so sure that it was just because it looked interesting, and not his powers. Qui-Gon hadn't been entirely specific about the extent of Jedi abilities, or how they worked exactly.
Inside were several trays, packed with blades of all sorts, what looked like a deranged spatula, prongs...
Sanzo picked up one, a large saw. It shown dully under the flashlight, but the edges looked sharp enough to cut through bone....
He glanced back at the table, at the way the overhead lights were arranged.
"Experimentation, I suppose," Qui-Gon said. It was either that or a room for autopsies. The instruments looked almost familiar, if extremely crude, but he was still faintly surprised. He hadn't known that Earthians practiced this. "It could be an autopsy room."
Yes, it probably was. It explained the metal tables, conveniently sized just right for the average human body...and there weren't any restraining straps that he could see, which would indicate either that the patient in question was either very much drugged or very much dead. Enough that they weren't at all worried about whoever was on the table to be up and walking.
The room didn't have the makings of something to contain a living prisoner, and a living one would have struggled to some degree, even if it wasn't a conscious reaction.
The cleanliness here was too controlled, too perfect, which meant...
The monk looked back at the tools in the draws, face darkening.
"That's one way of putting it," Qui-Gon said. He supposed that whatever Earthian society Sanzo's monks came from, they obviously didn't practice autopsies. Another thing they shared with the Jedi Order. "The intent is generally to examine a body and try to determine the cause of death," he went on. "Especially if it's not clear what happened...or if there was someone responsible."
He was a bit troubled to find out there was one here. There was probably a morgue here as well, then, if they were handling the deceased. That meant they were completely and utterly prepared for the event of the patients here dying. Food for thought, although it wasn't exactly up there priority-wise.
Sanzo didn't say anything at first. He hadn't ever heard of anything like that, back in China. Then again, usually it was pretty damn obvious how most people died, usually by youkai or human inflicted violence.
Despite what knowing what this room was for now, and what these tools were as well, everything looked so deceptively pristine.
"What's dead should be left alone," Sanzo finally said.
Qui-Gon didn't exactly sound surprised by the room or the practice. Sanzo was rarely the image of an abiding priest, but even if the reason for the these "autopsies" did have a point, it didn't sit well with him. Spirits had a way of being corrupted, angered.
"I take it they have these, back where you come from."
"We did," Qui-Gon said. "But they looked different than what we have here."
He wasn't sure right now how he felt about death. Considering he was a dead man walking, he supposed he should have a more black and white view on it. A Jedi accepted death for what it was; it was another journey, another step when you lost your material body and became one with the Force. His revival had been nothing short of denial, ripping him away from that experience. But, on the other hand, it was also a second chance to do things differently and the selfish part of him was more than happy to reach out and hang onto his new extension on life. He had another mission. There was also Obi-Wan.
As it was, Qui-Gon wasn't too sure about how he felt about the dead these days. Apparently walking in limbo like that complicated things.
"We should get you armed," Qui-Gon pointed out mildly. "I know this must seem distasteful to be touching these things for you, but I doubt one knife between the two of us will be of much use."
Distaste didn't even begin to describe it. They were messing in areas they shouldn't have, just as the idiots deliberately breaking the taboo and combining magic and science.
The practical side of him said to take them, just to have something on hand, and maybe to at least deprive the bastards of the tools, even if they could replace them in a few days, it was something.
Sanzo took the saw, and a few of the scalpels. Unwieldy, but a blade was a blade until he was reunited with the gun.
"I don't see any more reason to stay here," the monk started. "A weapon source aside, it doesn't bring anyone closer to finding out what the hell this place is."
Or where their belongings where, or how they even got here.
This wasn't like the carnage he'd witnessed on the journey west. Compared to all that, this was clean, no blood, no body parts, just the tables large enough for a body and cabinets and lights.
Sanzo would've been more comfortable at least seeing that there was a sign of violence. That he knew, and he could deal with that. This was far more wrong; the sterile air was unnatural, and whatever took place here, wasn't something that should have happened.
For being so spotless, and still having that feeling of death about it, it could only mean one thing: the killings may have happened elsewhere, but something was done here after that made the spirits restless.
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"Over here," he said, beckoning Sanzo closer as he examined a cabinet. Running his hands over it, he could practically feel the sense of death radiating out from it, even without his usual connection to the Force. It was probably a good thing for once that he was without it - it'd probably be overwhelming under normal circumstances.
Opening the cabinet, Qui-Gon peered inside, angling the flashlight so it shone on the contents inside. There were several shelves with trays inside, the instruments inside giving off metallic gleams. He had a good feeling what these were for.
Reply
Inside were several trays, packed with blades of all sorts, what looked like a deranged spatula, prongs...
Sanzo picked up one, a large saw. It shown dully under the flashlight, but the edges looked sharp enough to cut through bone....
He glanced back at the table, at the way the overhead lights were arranged.
"Some seriously sick shit happened here..." Sanzo murmured.
Reply
Yes, it probably was. It explained the metal tables, conveniently sized just right for the average human body...and there weren't any restraining straps that he could see, which would indicate either that the patient in question was either very much drugged or very much dead. Enough that they weren't at all worried about whoever was on the table to be up and walking.
Reply
The room didn't have the makings of something to contain a living prisoner, and a living one would have struggled to some degree, even if it wasn't a conscious reaction.
The cleanliness here was too controlled, too perfect, which meant...
The monk looked back at the tools in the draws, face darkening.
"They desecrate the bodies of the deceased?"
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He was a bit troubled to find out there was one here. There was probably a morgue here as well, then, if they were handling the deceased. That meant they were completely and utterly prepared for the event of the patients here dying. Food for thought, although it wasn't exactly up there priority-wise.
Reply
Despite what knowing what this room was for now, and what these tools were as well, everything looked so deceptively pristine.
"What's dead should be left alone," Sanzo finally said.
Qui-Gon didn't exactly sound surprised by the room or the practice. Sanzo was rarely the image of an abiding priest, but even if the reason for the these "autopsies" did have a point, it didn't sit well with him. Spirits had a way of being corrupted, angered.
"I take it they have these, back where you come from."
Reply
He wasn't sure right now how he felt about death. Considering he was a dead man walking, he supposed he should have a more black and white view on it. A Jedi accepted death for what it was; it was another journey, another step when you lost your material body and became one with the Force. His revival had been nothing short of denial, ripping him away from that experience. But, on the other hand, it was also a second chance to do things differently and the selfish part of him was more than happy to reach out and hang onto his new extension on life. He had another mission. There was also Obi-Wan.
As it was, Qui-Gon wasn't too sure about how he felt about the dead these days. Apparently walking in limbo like that complicated things.
"We should get you armed," Qui-Gon pointed out mildly. "I know this must seem distasteful to be touching these things for you, but I doubt one knife between the two of us will be of much use."
Reply
Distaste didn't even begin to describe it. They were messing in areas they shouldn't have, just as the idiots deliberately breaking the taboo and combining magic and science.
The practical side of him said to take them, just to have something on hand, and maybe to at least deprive the bastards of the tools, even if they could replace them in a few days, it was something.
Sanzo took the saw, and a few of the scalpels. Unwieldy, but a blade was a blade until he was reunited with the gun.
"I don't see any more reason to stay here," the monk started. "A weapon source aside, it doesn't bring anyone closer to finding out what the hell this place is."
Or where their belongings where, or how they even got here.
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