Nightshift 46: File Room 1

[rocksthecourt]

[from here]Klavier opened the door with a good deal less caution than he normally would have. After all, the door had been locked. Unless someone had gone through the trouble of purposely placing something dangerous in here before locking up, the room would very likely be empty. Nevertheless, he made an effort to close the door behind him quietly.

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[rocksthecourt]

Well, this was frustrating. How was it he'd never run across a single lock the week or so he'd been here, but now that was all he seemed to be finding. At least it gave him a sense of having found something important. Better than coming up completely empty. Still, what was he supposed to do about this? Was it possible to break into a filing cabinet? Without a drill or some such, that is. He yanked on the handle a few more times, but no, the blasted thing was locked very tightly and wasn't budging.

Klavier brought his flashlight closer to the drawer, trying to determine where the lock was and how it might be possible to break in. There must have been some way. Maybe if he damaged the handle enough? Well, it was worth a try at the very least. But this seemed like it was going to require quite a bit more force than a door lock...

He swept the flashlight around the room one more time to reassure himself then placed the flashlight on the ground, still facing the cabinets. It threw the shadows around him eerily and only illuminated his target area in faint outlines. It almost made the entire affair seem even more foul and distasteful than it already was.

[rocksthecourt]

He took a deep breath and gripped the pipe awkwardly with both hands, like a baseball bat. He wasn't quite... sure what he was doing, hardly a comfortable feeling. Jumping into action without fully thinking it through was more Forehead's specialty than his. That and wailing away at a piece of furniture until it broke was so absolutely boorish, completely unbecoming of a man like himself. What would Kristoph think if he saw him like this?

Klavier exhaled, feeling a bit tired just thinking about it. Well, at this rate, he didn't think there was much more he could do to paint himself badly in the elder's eyes. He was a lost cause, a poor excuse for a Gavin. A shame and a sham. The thought caused a tightening in his chest and he squeezed the pipe a little tighter. He focused on the barely visible shape of the cabinet he was aiming for. Right. Focus on that. After a pause, he finally lifted up the pipe, braced himself, and brought it down.

[rocksthecourt]

Apparently, this was another case of "seeing it and doing it are completely different." It was difficult to throw all your strength into hitting something when not accustomed to doing anything like it. That and he didn't expect it to actually hurt his hands that much upon impact. This... would be why baseball players wear gloves.

He paused a moment, waiting for that shaking numbness in his hands to dissipate. Not completely, but enough to concentrate on trying again. Again, he brought the pipe down over and over, pain jarring his hands with each strike, but he forced himself to become a bit more accustomed to it with each strike. Owowow... His palms were going to be so sore in the morning. Was it possible to bruise from this? Because if he did, he would be upset.

[rocksthecourt]

This was ridiculous. Was he doing it wrong or did it normally hurt like this? You'd think with how many people chose blunt objects for weapons, such a thing wouldn't be harmful to the assailant. Sigh. All he could do was continue at it, he supposed. Again, he lifted the bottle above his head.

...Pipe. PIPE. Not bottle. ...Damn it. No, he did not want to think about that. Not now. Not while he was trying to crack something open. Not while lifting a blunt object up like that. Like he must have.

Brought it up high above his head. Aim was square in the forehead, so he had to see the man's face. The expression. Despite that, the arm came down full force. What was that moment like? What were you feeling? Anger? Fear? Regret? Did you crumble in realization of what you had done? What could possibly drive you to do such a thing?

Klavier stood with the pipe poised above his head, ready to strike down again, breathing a bit more deliberately from the effort. But he wasn't afraid or distraught in any way. Even he was surprised. No, instead he felt... nothing. Shut down. A stereo suddenly drained of power. He stared, impassioned (almost sad), then brought the pipe down once again, somewhat harder than his previous strikes.

[rocksthecourt]

The far end of the pipe clinked to the floor and Klavier just held it limply as he tried to catch his breath. That was enough of this. He would have to see what kind of progress he had made on this blasted thing, and if it wasn't enough, it would simply keep the file in mind for when he was better equipped. Or had more able people with him. He picked flashlight up from the ground and tried to get a better look at the drawer.

...Incredible. Okay, yes, there was... technically damage. You could tell someone had spent some time hitting it, but... evidently his aim needed an exceptional amount of work. The handle didn't seem harmed much at all while there were little dents randomly scattered here and there. One hand went up to his forehead. Well. Fine. Okay, he had to accept he couldn't be exceptional in any and all manner of actions. Bashing inanimate objects was not his forte, it seemed. At least this was a bit of imperfection he could actually stand to live with.

Still, Klavier turned his back to the cabinet and let out an extremely loud noise of exasperation. Talk about a flagrant waste of time and effort. Realistically, he was sure he could break the thing open eventually, should he stay here for a good hour perhaps. It wasn't as though he had any appointments to keep for the evening, but the idea didn't quite appeal to him. Neither did the concept of leaving the room empty-handed... ARGH!

He glowered at the cabinet as though this were all its fault (and it kind of was). The second he found something more useful than a pipe for this kind of work, he was coming back and breaking this thing open. He was not being stopped because of a few blasted drawer locks.

[grumbling back out to here]