Nightshift 39: West Wing, South Hall 2-B
[From here]Celes came to a stop at the firmly locked door at the end of the hall. The general examined the door and put her hand on it, testing the knob. Hm, perhaps not so firmly locked as she thought. It would attract attention if she kicked it, but she did have her hairpins, after all. Pulling one from her hair, and hoping that Locke's little
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Javert and Edgeworth's lights would have to suffice, for now...the power of his own lantern snuffed out, Kunzite angrily tossed his useless flashlight into his makeshift bag, following closely alongside his companions.
"You seem to know our enemy better than I," he said in low whispers to Edgeworth, "so it would be best for me to go along with whatever confrontational plans you might have. Should matters get out of control, however..." Kunzite let his voice trail off; though the influence of Beryl and Metaria was but a faint tug at his mind now, he still relished the idea of the use of force, even if it wasn't completely necessary.
As the others paused in front of their destination, their lights sweeping through the hall, Kunzite moved forward to test the handle. Locked, as he presumed, but recalling the map he'd been given, the locking mechanism on this door could be tampered with. It had been some time since he'd used his power in this manner, and he wasn't sure it could still function with the same efficacy as in his own world, but nevertheless, his ego compelled him to try. Taking a step back, he swung his left arm to the side. It took a few moments, but his telekinesis soon caused the door to fly open, the lock latch tearing out the striking plate in the process.
"We're in," Kunzite suddenly groaned, his left arm stinging with pain, a debilitating sensation quickly washing over him. Though able to continue without issue, he knew he could not perform that same task again, at least not tonight. Without waiting for the others, he stepped into the dimly lit hallway before him.
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