Nightshift 23: M1-M10 Hall
Recluse was practically watching the door, waiting for the lock to click open. He had hidden the angle iron he had begun to work on, as well as a good amount of rust, stored in a small sack made from a portion of his sheets. His years of working at Paragon City's shipyards had shown him that rust could really come in handy, if you knew the proper ways to employ it. He’d need more materials, but he could always try to find them tonight. "I have the rust, some screws from the bed, and I can always pull some wires out of that radio… I just need the water, salt and aluminum." It was amazing what you could do to create something destructive, even if you were limited to just human abilities.
When the intercom sounded the first time, he listened impatiently, although he did wonder a little about these 'disciplinary therapies'. At the messages' last "Goodbye!" he muttered "Good riddance," to the daytime façade. Now all he had to do was wait through the first nighttime rant.
Which proved to be more amusing than he had expected. ...the stuff of nightmares? Recluse actually laughed aloud at that just to show the doctor how a real evil laugh was done. He was quite sure that whatever the doctor thought was so dire, he had personally done worse. To good friends, even.
The doctor was really sounding more insecure by the minute. He shook his head, looking like a teacher disappointed in a failing student. The lunatic propaganda from both the intercom and the radio was starting to grate on him. For now, he was content to do what he had always done and trust no one.
When the door unlocked, he quietly made his way down the hall, unlit flashlight in his left hand, idly flipping the sharpening steel into the air with his right. He had been able to put a wicked point on the end of the thing, regardless of the efforts of the kitchen staff to lock up all potential weapons.
He needed to find a hammer, among other things. It would be wherever supplies for repairs were kept, but he hadn’t seen anything like a janitor's room or any staff centers on the ground floor. There had been several nurses and doctors glancing in on the prisoner's activities in the sunroom from the second floor, he remembered... Maybe he could have more luck up there. He had heard sounds of a fight passing the stairs the night before, however. He would just have to be more careful.
His leg was still bothering him, but he could make do. He certainly wasn't going to allow his attention to wander tonight.
When the intercom sounded the first time, he listened impatiently, although he did wonder a little about these 'disciplinary therapies'. At the messages' last "Goodbye!" he muttered "Good riddance," to the daytime façade. Now all he had to do was wait through the first nighttime rant.
Which proved to be more amusing than he had expected. ...the stuff of nightmares? Recluse actually laughed aloud at that just to show the doctor how a real evil laugh was done. He was quite sure that whatever the doctor thought was so dire, he had personally done worse. To good friends, even.
The doctor was really sounding more insecure by the minute. He shook his head, looking like a teacher disappointed in a failing student. The lunatic propaganda from both the intercom and the radio was starting to grate on him. For now, he was content to do what he had always done and trust no one.
When the door unlocked, he quietly made his way down the hall, unlit flashlight in his left hand, idly flipping the sharpening steel into the air with his right. He had been able to put a wicked point on the end of the thing, regardless of the efforts of the kitchen staff to lock up all potential weapons.
He needed to find a hammer, among other things. It would be wherever supplies for repairs were kept, but he hadn’t seen anything like a janitor's room or any staff centers on the ground floor. There had been several nurses and doctors glancing in on the prisoner's activities in the sunroom from the second floor, he remembered... Maybe he could have more luck up there. He had heard sounds of a fight passing the stairs the night before, however. He would just have to be more careful.
His leg was still bothering him, but he could make do. He certainly wasn't going to allow his attention to wander tonight.