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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[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

[unmocked_lawr]

Out of the frying-pan, it seemed. Javert allowed himself a short laugh; it came out as more of a cough. Apparently a moment's respite was too much to ask for.

The dark had never held much fear for someone who had spent years patrolling it without the aid of a flashlight, but he couldn't deny there was something unsettling about the way the hall suddenly changed and the shadows seemed to move in. Another of Landel's tricks, then: he had seen them coming. That was to be expected, though Javert was in no mood to appreciate the good doctor's creativity.

He didn't argue, only seized Mello's arm with one hand and nodded as sharply as he could manage under the circumstances.

[product_of_fear]

Divide and conquer. It was one of the oldest methods, and one that worked just as well with fear as well. Maybe even better, because fear had a way of dividing people even when they were together. People made the mistake of thinking they were safer in a group, even here, where it was very obvious that that wasn't the case at all.

But apparently some people needed to experience something to remind them of that fact every now and then.

That was why, as Matt made the mistake of moving away from the other two, the darkness moved around them and rushed up to wrap around him like a suffocating, pulsating cocoon that smothered what little light he had on him.

[gamingsostfu]

Shit shit shit shit-!

Matt started toward Mello and Javert- but doubled back with a sharp jerk when everything went black. Swallowing hard, he blinked furiously, unsure as of yet whether he'd fainted from blood loss. For all he knew, he could be lying, face-down, on the floor, snoring while his friend and their new acquaintance took care of the new problem.

...or they'd smashed the ring and left him.

He was hoping not.

Wincing as his right leg started to give out under him, Matt yelled through the darkness, as loudly as he could, "Mello! Javert! You guys still here?" Please answer please answer- In a way, he was starting to hope he was unconscious, because then the darkness wasn't real and simply a product of his eyes being closed and his mind being completely fucked.

[swornandbroken]

"God damn it!" Mello didn't stop to think; he started to wade into pitch black, trying to keep hold of Javert, the ring fished out of the pocket and slipped onto his other hand, which he reached out, feeling blindly for Matt. He only had to be touching him for this to work...

But it felt as it he were literally wading into the darkness, as if it were a tangible entity, oozing up his legs, swallowing him bit by bit. He thought he heard Matt, but he sounded so fucking far away, and Mello would never be able to reach him, it would be yet another black mark to put in the column headed things that are Mello's fault. He couldn't see anything, and when he took another step, pain burst along the back of his right leg. He cursed under his breath and ripped the last (shit, he hoped it was the last) leech away.

"Matt, you stupid fuck!" Could his friend even hear him? The chatter he'd been fighting all night was getting louder, a crescendo of accusations. You're going to get him killed, here or out there or both, there's nothing you can do; but