Night 48: Walk-in Refrigerator
[from here]
The cold storage lived up to its name. Taura shivered, and quickly searched the room. She grabbed a carton of milk -- the kind that had never been freeze-dried.
It also gave her a chance to verify that there wasn't a fully-formed assault team slowly developing hypothermia in here while she dilly-dallied in the kitchen. Nope. There were a half-dozen obvious places to hide a staircase, and at least two or three ones that Taura would call actually hiding. Though if Martin Landel wanted to hide something from them, all he seemed to need was a locked door. So the tile in the corner -- or the dark area behind the freezer compartment, or the thin tile line between the wall and the floor were all there because he wanted them to see it.
Because he was toying with them, same as Homura's key and the intercom and the psychologists. But what for? She'd never heard of a strategic plan that included luring the enemy in with war games while secretly...what?
Ice cream, now that was a better bait. That's what she'd come in here for, and that's what she'd found. She pulled out one labeled Neopolitan, which sounded more political than confectionery, but wasn't there a dessert named after Napoleon, too? Something with layers and possibly real fruit? Why a failed military excursion ended up at fancy-dress parties, she wasn't sure, unless it was to feel superior. Taura didn't argue too much with flaky pastry. An army marched on its stomach, and hers was feeling a little empty.
[and back to here]
The cold storage lived up to its name. Taura shivered, and quickly searched the room. She grabbed a carton of milk -- the kind that had never been freeze-dried.
It also gave her a chance to verify that there wasn't a fully-formed assault team slowly developing hypothermia in here while she dilly-dallied in the kitchen. Nope. There were a half-dozen obvious places to hide a staircase, and at least two or three ones that Taura would call actually hiding. Though if Martin Landel wanted to hide something from them, all he seemed to need was a locked door. So the tile in the corner -- or the dark area behind the freezer compartment, or the thin tile line between the wall and the floor were all there because he wanted them to see it.
Because he was toying with them, same as Homura's key and the intercom and the psychologists. But what for? She'd never heard of a strategic plan that included luring the enemy in with war games while secretly...what?
Ice cream, now that was a better bait. That's what she'd come in here for, and that's what she'd found. She pulled out one labeled Neopolitan, which sounded more political than confectionery, but wasn't there a dessert named after Napoleon, too? Something with layers and possibly real fruit? Why a failed military excursion ended up at fancy-dress parties, she wasn't sure, unless it was to feel superior. Taura didn't argue too much with flaky pastry. An army marched on its stomach, and hers was feeling a little empty.
[and back to here]