Nightshift 46: Entry Room

[rocksthecourt]

[from here]He wandered through as carefully as one could when in a rush to move. This was ridiculous. He was lingering too much on sentimental thoughts. If he wanted to get anything accomplished tonight, he needed to maintain his focus. A hospital this large with this many people... There must have been a surplus of information to find. And if this

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[rocksthecourt]

He did not step out. All he did was simply look through the doorway into... pure blackness. It was a dark beyond anything he had ever seen, the kind that could only exist when one was far away from a city of any kind. Astonishing how one didn't notice the luxury of streetlights until they were gone. The dark seemed so deep, even his flashlight didn't penetrate more than a few feet ahead. Even then, the light only illuminated a thick fog.

Where... was this? How could a mental facility, even from an outsider's perspective, be built in such an isolated area? He couldn't even see a faint, distant glow that would indicate a city of any kind. Venturing out was like begging to get lost. Or worse.

As he continued to stare, he could hear... something. He couldn't quite identify it. It could have been movement. Or perhaps it was just the wind shuffling branches and leaves. No, wait. Yes, he was quite sure that was movement out there somewhere. There was also an unidentifiable set of sounds. Grumbling? Breathing? No, no, that was surely just his imagination. His paranoia playing tricks on him.

Even still, he had the distinct sensation of of being watched. Something looking out from that darkness, watching and waiting for him to dare step foot and close the door behind him. For him to voluntarily let the darkness engulf him.

He promptly shut the door.

[rocksthecourt]

Klavier took a few steps backward away from the door, dread still fresh in his chest. Okay. Let's... try something else, then.

He turned his back on the door and simply stood there, consciously breathing in and out and trying to rid himself of that sensation. Oh, that had not helped his paranoia at all. Traveling in the dark didn't sound like a terribly intelligent idea at the moment. In fact, he wasn't sure how he was going to muster the strength to move much of anywhere alone. Nor did he want to stay in that room anymore.

A few shaky breaths later he finally managed to start walking again. He couldn't think about this. If he did, he'd end up a distraught, trembling mess within the hour. Klavier needed distraction, a focus. Anything. Let's get back to the investigation, shall we? If one could really call it an investigation. Difficult when he barely knew what to look for anymore or where to find it. Too much to consider, too many factors beyond his control. It was grating.

[rocksthecourt]

In an attempt to keep himself from dwelling on the uselessness of the whole thing, he turned his attention to the reception desk closest to him. Opening the drawers yielded very little of interest: pens, rubber bands... random doodles on memo pads. Okay, if nothing else, the receptionist seemed normal enough and oblivious to the institute's antics. Thus the desk was a dead end.

The door behind the desk, however, seemed like it would be anything but. "File Room," it indicated. A part of him wondered why the room would be so blatantly labeled, but it might be best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying went. Besides, it seemed the find wasn't all that lucky seeing as the door was locked. ...Because evidently, locking the file room door was more important than locking the front door. Ach. Whatever.

So now what? Surely this was a problem he would run across again. They had to lock down anything that would hold something significant. Should he look around for keys? He had even less of an idea of where to find that than he did evidence. Did that mean he was just doomed to turn away every time he came across locked doors and desks? He frowned.

No. If he planned to get anywhere around here... he may have to take some drastic measures. Klavier gripped the pipe a bit more tightly. The lock didn't appear to be in the best of conditions. Maybe... It might be possible to simply break it. He wasn't fond of the idea; it made him feel like some kind of thief, but honestly, what were they going to do? Sue him for wrongful entry? Just let them try taking him to court.

[rocksthecourt]

Klavier held the flashlight at a higher angle, hoping to keep it out of the way. The last thing he needed was to bust his only source of light. He held the pipe close to one end, briefly braced his grip, and hit (more like chiseled at) the lock a few times. The sensation reverberated up his hand with each hit, surprisingly, making him feel each impact. Interesting. He'd never... really thought about it before, but he guessed that would make sense.

The lock itself didn't seem to be all that greatly affected by the efforts. He either needed to apply more sudden force or direct his aim better. So much for the "chiseling" idea. Looked like he'd have to upgrade to straight out bashing. Still holding the pipe shortly, he pulled his arm further away from the door, braced again, and slammed the end into the lock. The flashlight beam shook with the rest of him, making the lock hard to see with each hit. Irritating, but he kept at it, growing a bit more accustomed to the impacts with each strike.

A few turns of this and eventually the lock gave with an audible snap! and the tink of metal hitting the ground. Finally. His palm had been starting to get numb.

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