West Wing, South Hall 2-B

[mustbethesuit]

[From here.]It might be quicker to check the stuff at the end of the hall first and work his way back. That way he wouldn't have to back track in order to get into the main hall. Yeah. Yeah - the morgue was marked on his map, but there were a few rooms around it that weren't labeled at all. Morbid as the thought was, it would be practical to keep

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[product_of_fear]

Unfortunately for Peter, there were other things he should be concerned about tonight. Like the faint, barely there scent on the air...

Of course, by the time either patient picked up the odour of Scarecrow's fear gas, it would already be far too late. The hallway seemed to elongate in front of Peter, twisting bizarrely around as though trying to make the floor into a wall and put the doors he was aiming for above his head. The darkness of the hallway seemed strangely deeper and more oppressive as well, pressing in and gnawing at the edges of the light, making the doors and other details of the hallway harder and harder to see.

[deadlyjuliet]

He heard the ricochet of a door being kicked solidly against a wall and he paused. For such a tiny boy, Kenny certainly had strength to him. That was good to know here where Grell's own strength was particularly diminished. Taking a few cautious steps after him, the death god paused at the end of the hallway, watching as the...

Hallway? It was a hallway, right? It seemed to be growing into infinity, stretching into blackness as dark as a moonless country night. It felt different though. It felt like he was in a box, closed in, pressed in from all sides. He could feel the walls touching his skin, pushing down and up and against him in uncomfortable ways, making him want to push back only to find that nothing was there.

Grell shook his head, gritting his teeth as he realized something was terribly wrong. Something was here, in the hall, something dangerous - something dangerous to him. Forgoing any sense of stealth for self-preservation, Grell pushed the little power he'd been given to his eyes again, staring into the dark

[product_of_fear]

He could have laughed in amusement - and no small amount of pleasure - as the boy suddenly realised that there was something off about the hallway he was in. Realised it far too late, but he got there eventually. Scarecrow had to wonder what he would see, what fears the gas would draw to the fore and what they would tell him about the boy and his red-haired pursuer. But there would be time enough for that later, as his toxin worked its beautiful magic in their systems and they gave voice to their fear in a song of screaming he never grew tired of. But for now he would watch. And wait

[human_sponge]

[From here.]And so they were almost there. Peter wondered if they were the first group that was going to make it into the hallway, but he knew that it wasn't a contest. All it changed was whether or not they were going to have to break open another door. They'd been doing a lot of that tonight, it seemed

[autophoenix]

In the most rational part of her mind, she acknowledged that Peter had a point. No good could come of testing her ability here when there was no telling what Landel had done to it in order to best screw them all over. But, her own mortality was a scary thing to face when she's gotten used to the reckless idea of never being able to die, and it was easier to just argue with Peter on it and keep doing what she'd always done. At least that way she could say it was because of her uncle that she wasn't doing it and not out of her own fear

[product_of_fear]

How did the saying go? No rest for the wicked? Not that the Scarecrow believed that description really, truly applied to him - despite years of tender care at the hands of his grandmother, hard lessons learned, fear, control, knowledge, power - he simply taught others what he himself already knew. Fear was everything, it motivated everything, and Scarecrow was the master of that fear and, ergo, master of those it controlled

[human_sponge]

When the bat was extended toward him, Peter thought for a moment that Claire wanted him to take a few swings at the door, just like he'd done downstairs. But he could tell from the girl's posture that she was very much intending to get the door open herself, and he frowned just at the sight of her. Maybe she'd built up some muscle as a cheerleader, but most grown men couldn't break down doors with just their hands and feet, let alone a teenage girl

[timedork]

[From here]

There were two doors on the left side of the hall almost immediately. Dean's information hadn't included what door to take-or if it had, he hadn't shared that part-so there wasn't much choice but to check any door they came across until they found the right one.

"Check the other door," he called to the other men, heading for the first of the doors himself. A quick test of the knob revealed that as locked, and the Doctor reached the inner pocket of his coat for the sonic screwdriver automatically. Now that he had the screwdriver, this would be a cinch.

The Doctor pointed the screwdriver at the lock and turned it on, the familiar blue light looking particularly bright in the darkness. A few seconds would be all it would take, as long as it wasn't deadlock sealed.

...Which it... unfortunately seemed to be. Maybe. The Doctor redoubled his efforts with the screwdriver.

[product_of_fear]

The sonic screwdriver whined suddenly, rising in pitch rapidly almost like it was letting out a shriek of pain before it shut off of its own accord

[theroadsofar]

Dean didn't bother arguing with the Doctor - not when he was worried about that girlfriend of his and he was holding it together pretty well, all things considered. It'd be another thing if he was some screaming, borderline pissing his pants civilian.

Heading for the door, he started to reach out to try it. He didn't make it, not when the Doctor's screwdriver gave off this godawful screech, piercing right into his skull and forcing Dean to clap a hand to his ears; didn't much help but he couldn't help it and -

Suddenly it was gone. The flashlights went at the same time.

Oh hell. Dean should've figured this was coming - place with this much evil wandering its halls and they were bound to run into something, especially all three of 'em wandering around in a group like this. Tended to draw all sorts of attention. Dean turned on the spot, one hand reaching back to make sure the door behind him was secure and wasn't gonna open up behind him, his other hand drawing the bowie knife in a smooth motion. Fun times. Still, of all the stuff

[hes_deadjim]

The Doctor whipped out a device he'd never seen before, then proceeded to aim it at the doorknob. Curiously, McCoy leaned in a little closer. He couldn't resist a look at new technology, even if taking it apart wasn't his department; that kind of thing was more like Scotty's area. That sound was certainly distinct, as the design, but there was no screen, no way to input a function in there that he could see. The Doctor didn't just happen to carry a lock pick, did he? McCoy doubted it. Where did he even get it from? The institute? Did he make it

[unmocked_lawr]

[from here]

Exhaustion was beginning to win over adrenaline by the time Javert stumbled into the next hall, wiping the slight smile off of his face with surprising speed. Impossible to tell just how many leeches had managed to land on his back; the feel of individual jaws sinking into flesh had long since spread into a general sensation of pain.

He halted just inside the next hall, leaning on his saber and catching his breath. It seemed the flow of leeches had finally halted. He glanced behind to make sure Mello and Matt had also made it, then, dizzy from blood loss, slowly set about removing leeches from his person.

[product_of_fear]

This was almost too easy. So many people, so willing to wander freely into the area he'd claimed as his own, not even slowing down sometimes to check for any dangers as they came and certainly not noticing the ever so faint scent on the air, blood and sweat and fear.

But even if they did, it was too late, much too late. He'd had so long to perfect his toxins and gases (so many run-ins with a certain bat), that a mask was the best, and often only, hope. And sometimes even then

[gamingsostfu]

As they followed Javert closely, Matt hung onto Mello - but he let go when he saw something move. Or, rather, everything moved, and it was difficult for him to tell for a moment whether it was the blood loss or-

Oh hell no, Matt thought when he saw a figure standing before them, not too close. Everything was dark, too dark for him to really see anything, and he took a few steps away from Mello - though it was hard. Another fight?! You've got to shitting me! Matt grit his teeth, trying his best to hold himself up by his own power. He'd definitely need it if they were going to fight again.

Turning a little, he set firm glare on Mello. "Dammit- Next time, I get to pick what we're doing at night!" Getting pissy was the best way Matt knew to deal with fear - and he was getting pretty damn shaken just standing there, watching the dark move.

[swornandbroken]

Mello staggered to a halt as well, swaying and out of breath. He reached back and wrenched the leech from between his shoulderblades, muttering a curse in Slovenian before he threw it down and crushed it under his boot. The one feeding off his leg met the same fate. He couldn't tell if there were more; it was getting so dark, and he was sticky and bloody and felt weighted down, as if he were covered with the damn things.

The hall seemed to warp and stretch, the darkness closing in even more. For fuck's sake, what now? "Shut up, dickhead, and get back here!" He made a grab for Matt's shirt, but hissed and checked the motion at the burst of pain it sent through his back, at the sudden awareness of just how much blood there was, wetting the t-shirt through. At least Javert was making good use of the respite.

Pain is nothing, feel it later, you've done it before. But not like this. That was the thing about third-degree burns: they didn't hurt like fuck-all until later, and they didn't chase you down for more. Now he inwardly cursed

[windstwilight]

[from here]

Turning the corner only showed a mass of confusion. People all acting strangely in groups of two or more. She watched, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then moved towards the door on the left. This one. She was almost sure of it. They would get Soma, and then maybe try... To help the people here.

Senna no longer had the capacity tonight to expand herself fuller. One thing at a time. Her friend first. That was all.

[product_of_fear]

More people wandering into his hallway, more people unaware of the danger they had already put themselves in, the gas already seeping into their lungs, their blood, their brains. Ready to have their fears dragged out and played out before their eyes to break down their minds and show him what lay within at the heart of it all.

As always, the Scarecrow wondered what they would see...

There was only a glimpse of the shapes of other patients in the hallway before the area beyond the pale light of their flashlights darkened and seemed to swallow the people up, hiding them, the walls and details of the hallway, and even the doors the little group was aiming for entirely from sight. Everything gone until they were in what must have felt like a void of darkness with only the waning light of their flashlights to keep them aloft.

Once the darkness surrounded them completely, a scream sounded from what seemed like every direction at once. And it sounded an awful lot like Soma.

[sheisthecause]

There were a couple of doors right near them on the left side of the hallway. Just ahead of her, Senna turned toward one of them, and Meche followed suit. They had to be almost there now. She knew there was more than one room, but they probably wouldn't be able to find the right ones--not that it would matter much, if they really couldn't do anything to get in until the doors unlocked. They'd just have to wait