Nightshift 39: West Wing, North Hall 2-B
[From here]
Again, Celes waited to hear any suspicious noises, and finding none, continued down the hallway. She lit up the sign of a door, Decontamination Room. Well, didn't that sound lovely? She'd have to be careful. If her childhood under Cid's tutelage had given her anything, it was that those yellow coats of the Scientists were the hard line of defense against tiny blood-borne organisms or strange Esperian pathogens.
And here she was, many worlds from home, without one. Well, Celes sighed mentally and continued down the barren hall, so long as nothing decided it wanted to splash on her, then she was fine. Though weakened magically, Celes hoped all those 'adjustments' to the rest of her body had held true. It would be terrible to get a cold of all things after eighteen years of near-perfect health.
As she came to the end of the hall, another door sign caught the light, Morgue. Well, she'd come to her dubious destination, and here was hoping that the slabs they dissected the patient population on could move, or at least have a nearby gurney. This thought was immediately pushed out of the way when the general realized that the door was locked.
"Oh, for the love of Goddess's tits." Celes knelt down again and removed her poor, battered hair pin before realizing that there was nothing in the hallway with her (and even if there was, taking the time to pick the lock would've made her monster food in no time at all). The general stood up and kicked the door open.
Again, Celes waited to hear any suspicious noises, and finding none, continued down the hallway. She lit up the sign of a door, Decontamination Room. Well, didn't that sound lovely? She'd have to be careful. If her childhood under Cid's tutelage had given her anything, it was that those yellow coats of the Scientists were the hard line of defense against tiny blood-borne organisms or strange Esperian pathogens.
And here she was, many worlds from home, without one. Well, Celes sighed mentally and continued down the barren hall, so long as nothing decided it wanted to splash on her, then she was fine. Though weakened magically, Celes hoped all those 'adjustments' to the rest of her body had held true. It would be terrible to get a cold of all things after eighteen years of near-perfect health.
As she came to the end of the hall, another door sign caught the light, Morgue. Well, she'd come to her dubious destination, and here was hoping that the slabs they dissected the patient population on could move, or at least have a nearby gurney. This thought was immediately pushed out of the way when the general realized that the door was locked.
"Oh, for the love of Goddess's tits." Celes knelt down again and removed her poor, battered hair pin before realizing that there was nothing in the hallway with her (and even if there was, taking the time to pick the lock would've made her monster food in no time at all). The general stood up and kicked the door open.