[From
here]All quiet so far. None of the usual sounds of combat could be heard coming from the Sun Room. It seems they'd beaten the usual crowd of people heading through there. Of course, this just meant they'd be the first to be ambushed. Wonderful
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Despite preparing himself for anything the Wizard Landel would throw at them, the Scarecrow was startled when a sound entered the hallway- a sharp crackling, accompanied by a spark of light near the Sun Room balcony. He jumped, nearly dropping his flashlight, catching it just before it clattered along the ground. Something was out there, and the last thing they needed was for it to notice them inching their way toward one of the rooms.
With a nervous look at Sangamon, he headed for the wall, creeping around the corner and watching the other lights near the balcony. There were definitely other patients over there with whatever had- wait, that one silhouette looked awfully familiar. Another crackle from the shining light, and a man was briefly illuminated. The Scarecrow was sure he'd seen- Depth Charge! He took two steps from his spot on the wall, his initial instinct of helping his friend subduing his fear; he stopped himself as he realized what a tremendously bad idea it was. This was no doubt some sort of a witch his roommate was facing, and the strawman had nothing to help defeat her- no bucket of water, no chandelier or house to drop on her, no magic of his own. He'd even left the knife Depth Charge had given him in his drawer.
Furthermore, Depth Charge wouldn't be happy if the Scarecrow found himself in any sort of danger. He had made that abundantly clear. He was a big guy, and had enough courage to face a hundred witches. He would undoubtedly take care of himself if he didn't have to spend his time protecting someone else. Hopefully, the person who was with him would be more help in a fight than a former scarecrow ever could be.
The Scarecrow nodded to himself. Depth Charge would be fine- right now, he and Sangamon needed to stay out of the way. He headed for the first door on the left, giving the knob a try. "It's locked!" he whispered, keeping his voice low.
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"Shit. Step back. This is going to be loud," S.T. hissed. Lockpicks were going on the to-do list. S.T. didn't usually carry them; they fell into a legal gray area better left to those who didn't make a living in civil disobedience. Especially when a set of bolt-cutters with enough horsepower to take on a whole bike rack of U-bolts was completely on the up-and-up. Never mind that the main reason to have them was to separate yuppies from their inadvisably-parked 21-speeds.
Not having a set of picks, S.T. had two options. Pulling the bolts would be slow, but less noisy. Body-slamming it worked a hell of a lot better in movies. Attempted stealth it was. He tucked the taped end of the pipe under one bolt and heaved upwards. The tape helped avoid any banging, but the bolt was lower on oil than the Omni after Debbie'd had it for a weekend. It squawked. Fuck subtlety. S.T. slammed it again and the bolt did a perfect Sea World dolphin leap and clattered on the floor. Time for the lower one, if would-be Jedi finished off group A and came looking for leftovers.
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The former strawman looked to Sangamon as he removed the first bolt, the piece landing on the floor with a noisy ktunk. He felt so useless! He couldn't fight, couldn't help, and couldn't even open the door. At least if he was made of straw, he couldn't die- humans were so fragile. What use was he now?
No, that wasn't true. He wasn't useless- there were going to be times where his particular set of skills just weren't helpful, where there wasn't enough time to think things through. While he wasn't as helpful as Tin Man when it came to getting through doors, he had other strengths that would eventually come in handy. He just had to be patient and wait for the right time. Waiting was harder now that he knew more about human mortality, but he had to do it.
He took the fallen bolt, pocketing it idly as he returned his attention to the fight, keeping ready to run into the room once the door was open. Maybe the room would contain something to help them defeat the witch- they couldn't give up yet.
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S.T. stood up and pulled the door out of its frame, ushered the Scarecrow through as well as he could with his hands full of industrial-grade aluminum, and then docked it back in the frame. A casual look and no-one had even been here. A casual tug and it would come down on the head of the tugger, giving them some time to react.
[to here]
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