Nightshift 36: M-C Block Hallway
[from here]
The second hallway was at least better lit than the first, due to the light from some others' flashlights. So it's not the Dark Hour. That still didn't provide much of an explanation as to where he had awakened, though ( Read more... )
The second hallway was at least better lit than the first, due to the light from some others' flashlights. So it's not the Dark Hour. That still didn't provide much of an explanation as to where he had awakened, though ( Read more... )
Long dark hallways weren't so fun to walk down when your heels weren't clicking on the tile (or whatever it was) floor. Grell missed his clothes. He missed his scythe. He missed not having to breathe. Stupid punishment. Stupid power seal. Stupid, stupid Will. This was obviously all his doing. Not that Grell had the foggiest how a supervisor could do this sort of thing, but Grell's misery usually sprang from that bibliophile. If only he would lighten up a little, he'd be just Grell's type, too. What a pity.
"Will~iam~ Come out, come out, wherever you are~ I know you're watching me," he called out into the night. Still no answer. Either Will was really busy with the others in his care, or he was dead. And Grell couldn't imagine that death god dying unless the rules specifically stated he had to, or something. Which meant he wasn't paying attention to him and that...just pissed him off. If he was going to force Grell to suffer through a heartbeat, he should at least have the common decency to stick around and listen to him whine about it.
Stopping in the new hallway, he looked left and right and sighed. Still no sign of him. Clasping his hands together, he tried one last trick to bring Will out. "God in Heaven, if you can hear me, be a doll and drop an elephant on that supervisor of mine? Much appreciated."
....
Still nothing. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he went left toward the door. Something definitely wasn't right.
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The hall was quiet, the stillness broken only by sporadic clicks and phrases. Bruce watched for awhile, his face a blank slate of shock and bewilderment as he took in the hall. Other people came and went, all males, all wearing the same grey, smiling uniform. Their ages varied, as did their appearances-not all of them had the deadened look characteristic of patients or inmates, but many looked as tense and wary as Bruce felt inwardly. All were unarmed, but most had flashlights. Not that there were many to being with, but it seemed this complex was expansive enough.
Only select individuals were speaking; a few to themselves, even. If the attitudes and uniforms were anything to go by, these particular individuals were likely in similar situations, and if that was the case, there was nothing to lose and a chance to gain by asking for help. Scanning the area as if carelessly, Bruce’s eye caught on a figure with long red hair and a confident gait. This person carried no fear in his frame, and the long hair and feminine qualities should be enough to justify Bruce Wayne singling him out for help.
Straightening his posture and picking up his pace, Bruce caught up with the stranger in no time, catching the other just before he walked out the door. Keeping his voice politely concerned, he made as if to tap the man’s shoulder before addressing him.
"Um...miss? I'm sorry if I've disturbed you, but I couldn't help but notice...are you alright?"
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"Um...miss?"
Well, well, now. It looked like someone was coming to play. Stopping in his tracks, Grell turned and looked the newcomer over. Handsome, youngish, foreign, and most definitely human. How delightful. And smart enough to recognize a lady when he saw one - what a bonus. If he was being punished by being forced to walk around with a bunch of mortals, then maybe this was a test. He couldn't sense a death god's presence around the newcomer, but that didn't mean they weren't watching right now to see if Grell repeated his poor behavior in chopping him to bits.
Best to suck up to the supervisors so he could get back to work then. Putting on his best 'lady in distress' look, he clasped his hands together under his chin and swooned a little. "I'm afraid I don't know where I am at all! Do you happen to know? It's so very dark here and I can't tell left from right!"
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He shook his head.
"I’m afraid not. I’ve only just gotten here...and I have no idea how. I suppose I could have always drank too much, but you know how it is with those parties. I just went to bed and woke up here, in this godawful uniform, and then I saw you."
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He was new, which was less helpful than Grell would have liked, but the more he spoke, the more he was able to place his accent. "An American? The only parties I've been to are of the English variety - and not in the capacity I'd like. The hired help can't exactly dance with the earls and ladies, can they now." And as for the uniforms... "Oh, yes! These uniforms are just atrocious! The color, the material, the absolute lack of form!" Pressing a hand to his chest, he gestured wide with the other. "It's like this place is trying to break out spirits!" His voice echoed down the hall and he sighed, shrugging before dropping his hand to his hip. "But a good man can make any outfit look amazing, don't you think? So what's your name?"
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Well, it seemed the stranger was also connected to a family of wealth, so it was possible that the perpetrator might simply be targeting the wealthy and upper-class. And yet, judging from how the postures and mannerisms of the other individuals walking in the halls, such a theory was still unlikely. After all, if it was only money the kidnapper wanted, there were other ways to get it that didn't involve such an elaborate prison. It took time...time and something else to be able to capture such a large quantity of people in a single place at a single time. Something else...
...he'd been hesitating to consider magic, and yet increasingly the evidence seemed to be pointing to either that or some sort of new technology he was not familiar with. It wasn't impossible, as the Batman knew well from his encounters with Jason Blood. But he'd need more information.
...well, no sense in abandoning ready company. Regardless of how much this stranger knew, he was still another person, and it might be better for Bruce Wayne to have company with him. Solitary individuals stuck out like targets in the hallways, and though Bruce didn't know precisely what sort of dangers lay ahead, he could prepare.
"Hired help? Are you sure?" The surprise wasn't feigned, though the almost playful smile was.
"You're not much like the maids back at home, but it's been awhile since I've been to England," he said lightly, "My butler's English, though."
He grinned a bit at the compliment and at the red-head's melodramatic assertion about the uniform, noting to himself a bit resignedly that if he'd wanted stealth during his explorations, he'd probably found the wrong person.
"Bruce Wayne. And you are...?"
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So he was one of those types. How interesting. And with an English butler. He'd never heard of a Englishman crossing to America to be a butler. Bruce Wayne must have been a ridiculously wealthy man, and even though money didn't dazzle him as much as it would another lady, he still found it worthy of note.
"Madam wasn't a typical madam either, so I suppose we fit each other very well. We both so loved the same things." Grell couldn't help but wonder if this man's butler would be at all as interesting as Sebas-chan had been, but somehow, he doubted it. Although Bruce was gorgeous, he was human and had no marks on him of the supernatural that Grell could pick up right now. Even with his powers sealed, he could pick up on that - it was second nature. "Grell Sutcliffe. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wayne."
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No recognition of the name "Bruce Wayne," and though Bruce had considered employing an alias, it was pointless if those who'd captured them already knew who he was. He couldn't determine anything precise from the fact that Grell didn't seem to recognize "Bruce Wayne"--after all, while Wayne Enterprises and its subsidiaries had a large presence in most of the European continent (including the UK), it wasn't unusual for someone not to recognize the owner. After all, not everyone was interested in trashy socialite gossip.
His smile faltered a bit when he saw Grell wiping away tears. Untimely end, was it? Now, while it was in the nature of his work to be suspicious, it wasn't for that reason that the phrase caught Bruce's attention. No, it was...the manner in which Grell had said it. Melodrama aside, there was something insincere about the other man's expression and commentary. Then again, maybe he was overthinking it.
"Hey, hey...there's no need to get upset about it. It wasn't your fault she died, right?" Placing a hand gently on Grell's shoulder, Bruce added, "...come now. Keep it up and you'll have me breaking a new record. This is the first time I've made a lady cry on our first night."
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"It wouldn't do, Mr. Wayne, to call you by your first name. Not until we know each other a little better." That was a good answer. A proper answer. The kind of answer a butler would give, perhaps. Not that he ever called Madam Red by any other name than Madam, no matter how well they had gotten to know each other. No matter how many nights they spent together, alone together in the same room while he watched her carve into her victims like a female Michelangelo carving those ugly women into true masterpieces. Her radiance after the fact, drenched in that unworthy blood, was unforgetable and for once, Grell did feel sad.
He'd never again see her like that. Such a beautiful woman, given over to death because she had turned out to be just like the ones she carved. She'd been dragged down by human emotion. Stupid. It wasn't his fault she was dead - it was that little brat Earl Phantomhive's fault. "...no, it wasn't my fault. It was...his fault she was killed." He put just the right amount of grief and anger into his words - because for once, they were genuine - and then sighed heavily. Bruce was a charmer alright and Grell gave him a little smile, just for effect, when he put a hand on his shoulder. One day, he'd be ripping that hand off Bruce's arm and then Bruce would see how brilliant Grell's real smile could be. "My apologies, Mr. Wayne. It's just that it happened so recently and I'm still not over the shock."
But they couldn't dally in the hallway all night. Grell was still eager to see where the hell Will was hiding and ask him how long he had to keep up this stupid 'human' act before he was allowed to go back to work. "Let's keep going, hm? Maybe it'll take my mind off that dreadful incident."
[to here]
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