Night 41: West Wing South Hall 1-A
[from here]No, really, where the fuck was everyone? Shit, someone needed to be out and about. The rescue-mission post had had a dozen or so eager-beaver volunteers, so where were they? He hoped they were around when he got back with the gear, because he wasn't planning to spend the night as a poor man's on-call EMT
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The halls marked the passage of a few people, but not a whole lot. It seemed like somewhere along the way, he’d gotten a head start on things. That was good if he wanted to miss some of the action, but despite everything, he felt better knowing which guards had been positioned where, who they were fighting, and what they were capable of, even if there was little he could do except stumble into a fight, like he had the night before, between Homura and Okita. He wasn’t exactly a force to be reckoned with anymore, so putting a total stop to that stuff wasn’t in his power.
Since he wasn’t exactly a bleeding heart, either (despite what Leon might think), he supposed the desire stemmed more from a kind of masochism than anything. Hmm.
Ren kept going down the corridor, staying away from the walls despite the fact they were about the only guides in the pitch black environment. Saying one could do something blindfolded was kind of a played out phrase, but in this case, it was true. He’d gone up and down these halls too many times for his liking, but the experience did its job.
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