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here]This was already further than Sai had gotten the past couple nights, which was saying something. It was getting over the wall that would be the real test, though. The actual act of scaling the brick would be simple, but the night had an odd way of ending before he'd gotten beyond that point. Hopefully the same wouldn't hold true this
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He only had one kunai, so throwing that was out of the question - especially since he doubted it would do any good. He wouldn't have many shots with his ink jutsu, and they wouldn't cause any actual damage, but if he could get one or two images out as distractions, they might be able to get by. Sai wasn't sure what Naruto had tried so far in the Institute after dark, but he was capable of running up the wall here, at least most of the way. He'd done it before.
"Naruto," he hissed under his breath, "we should split up and head for the wall." Hopefully he wouldn't be able to shoot both of them, and if he could work out that distraction...
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Anise only took a few steps from the door before stopping to look around. It looked like there was some activity around the far corner of the field, by the shed. Squinting, Anise could make out something like metal armor, and... a wave of dirt? Probably some weird technique.
"Looks like a special counseling patient," she told Ilia in a quiet voice, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. "But there's no sign of Tear..." She shone her flashlight around the other side of the field, and while the beam wasn't strong enough to illuminate the farthest corners, it was probably fair to say that her friend wasn't out there.
Come to think of it, weren't Guy and the others coming this way? Maybe they already got past that guy. Anise hoped so, anyway. He looked like a tough opponent - one she wouldn't want her friends to get stuck with.
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"If she's not here, then we should check elsewhere," Ilia whispered, backing towards the door. She didn't want them to get caught up in a fight when they already had an agenda. She felt a little bad for the others they might be abandoning, but they didn't seem completely defenseless, which was enough for Ilia.
[moving back to here]
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The first thing Woody noticed when he stepped outside was how cold it was. A weird sensation ran through his body, and he belatedly realized goosebumps were spreading down his arms. Maybe he should have grabbed a coat from the closet, but it was too late to go back.
For now he needed to figure out where to go from here. Pressing his back against the wall, Woody scanned the area. From the looks of it, he'd found some kind of sport field that was probably similar to what Andy had used when he went to soccer practice. To be honest, he'd half expected more guards, or at least some kind of watch tower.
Some activity further into the field caught his attention, though, and Woody's eyes snapped over to where he saw...a wall of dirt springing from the ground?! Taking several steps away from whatever that was about, Woody focused his attention on the wall furthest away from the action. If he could just get there without anyone noticing him, then maybeHe was just going to have to try. Steeling his resolving, he tightly ( ... )
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Only the most observant of patients would have noticed the dark shadow overhead, the outline occasionally blotting out the stars as the aquila circled over the field, waiting for the right moment to strike. Once its target was far enough into the open, the massive avian curved about and went into a sharp dive, talons extended as it plummeted toward the man.
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Unfortunately, even his human legs weren't fast enough to save him from getting noticed by something unsavory. But it wasn't until Woody saw a dark shape swooping in from the sky that he realized that he'd just made a mistake -- a huge, feathered mistake that was about to tear him to pieces.
Eyes wide as saucers, he couldn't make out much beyond its large shape, and the outstretched talons that were aimed straight for him. But that was all he needed to see to make him go cold. "Ahhhh!" Woody threw his weight to the side in a desperate attempt to land in the grass and roll out of the creature's grasp for at least a couple of seconds longer.
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Not surprisingly, the field was already lively with what looked to be a few separate attacks. There was one man who was being terrorized by what he was pretty sure was a huge bird, and then three other patients further down the field, all of whom seemed to be more interested in each other. Maybe this would work in their favor, then.
It was funny, though, when he thought about it. When it came to whether or not they should help, chances were that Jones would want to, Recluse wouldn't, and he... Well, he could go either way. Not that he was going to tell that to either of the men. In this case, maybe Jones' need to see more of that mine would outweigh any benevolence.
"So, what's our gameplan?" he asked the two. (Was his shadow flickering against the wet grass? No, of course not.) "We could try to sneak past." And over a wall, which wasn't the most inconspicuous of actions, but if they were quick about it...
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"None of us need to worry about the birds, but we should remain cautious and keep moving. There are often others guarding the field." Well, at least he hoped neither of the other two had gotten this far with their virginity. He didn't think they had, but really, life just loved to throw nasty surprises at him.
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And speaking of shadows... Indy turned sharply to look over his shoulder. He could've sworn he'd seen something moving at the edge of his vision, by the door, but when he actually faced that way, there was nothing unusual there. Indy faced front, glanced back, then turned ahead again. "Must've been the cat," he muttered under his breath, but that didn't put him any more at ease. His ears rang just thinking about last night's encounter; he wasn't in a hurry to repeat it. Keeping moving seemed like a good idea.
No need to belabor the point. Indy just nodded and continued forward, walking fast. He and Dent were pros at getting over the wall by now; with any luck, this wouldn't take long.
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He didn't really know what Recluse meant about the birds, but his words seemed to ring true. They were able to make it across most of the field without much trouble, though he wasn't sure if they'd be able to dodge that bullet entirely.
As they reached the wall, he started to grab a vine while taking one last look over his shoulder. Once again, something seemed to flicker in the corner of his vision. He tried to follow it and found nothing. Just how many times could he brush that off, though?
"Almost there," he said as he turned back to the wall and started to try and hike himself up.
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Mello stepped outside and stopped, lifting a hand to signal to Matt to hold up, too. It was already active out here tonight, a shouting brainwashed prisoner he did not want to tangle with, and that was assuming they made it that far without attracting the attention of the... bird thing.
"Bloody fuck," he muttered, and thought fast. Chance it, or not? Both threats were occupied with other prisoners at the moment, but they might not stay that way. Matt was in no condition to decide. There might be worse behind them. There might be nothing behind you. Do you just get a kick out of risking Matt's life?
Mello did let an annoyed huff escape now. Let the bugs say what they liked; they wanted to make him waver, and wavering was never the answer. He squared his shoulders. "Run for the wall, and don't stop for anything."
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He chanced a look at Mello, sharper than he initially assumed he was capable of; vicodin on an empty stomach? Matt was honestly surprised he hadn't collapsed before then. He wasn't sure how far into the battle he could get before his body just... gave up on him. Hopefully he could hang on as long as Mello could. It would really aggravate him if he let the blond have one more thing to boast about when they decided to be pricks at each other.
"Oi!" he called back, giving their possible opponent a really grouchy look. "They're not pajamas. They're uniforms." A point which was somewhat skewed, he had to admit, but accurate nonetheless ( ... )
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"Oh, poor form, Landel," Mello muttered, even as his eyes widened at how fast and agile the brainwashed, armored bastard was. The Head Arsehole had never played fair, couldn't be expected to start, but. It wasn't fair, letting someone have abilities like that.
If he took time to think, that wicked-looking blade would make mincemeat out of them, so he grabbed Matt's arm and bolted for the wall, dragging him along. Action first, justify later.
There was always going to be some damn thing or other blocking the way to whatever goal he set, he thought as he ran. He was sure of that, and it didn't matter which part of his brain was trying to argue that he should have turned back, or which was accusing him of useless recklessness (that had to be the bugs). He was sick of dead ends and wasted time, of every damn night bringing him no closer to getting out, of never feeling like he'd tried everything he could. He was not willing to wake up wondering if they should have pressed on. They weren't ( ... )
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