Night 52: Stairwell by Waiting Room/Lobby 1

[poorexample]

[From here.]While it was his first time heading up the stairs, Castiel felt no trepidation. Even if he was alone and it was deathly quiet, he was used to unsettling situations and saw no reason to slow his march upward. Though at the sound of footsteps, he did glance over his shoulder for a split second, to see another patient who was taking the

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[toxicspiderman]

When intellectuals got self-deprecating, it was usually complete bullshit.  An elaborate competitive dance, like a peacock mating ritual with pseudo insults for feathers.  This one felt a little more honest, courtesy of Martin Landel, but it didn't make it less boring, even in quadraphony.

Ryuuzaki's evil twin finished the opening posturing first, and started in with a list of names and dates.  Patronizing little bastard.  Claiming responsibility for the deaths of what -- coworkers?  Grown men and women who had free will,  though perhaps no sense of self-preservation.  Sangamon Taylor was a survivor.  And if he took a bullet to the brain (or carcinogenic time bomb to the nucleotides), he wanted it to go down as his own fucking fault.

DUCK, DUCK SQUEEZER
NOTED ENVIRONMENTAL ACTIVIST KILLED IN FREAK BANNER ACCIDENT

Besides, the list was anecdotal bullshit, not a statistically significant sample.  So the guy had crap luck in co-workers.  Big deal.  It didn't bother S.T., and neither did the accusation of being insensitive.  The guy was a geek, through and through.  Give him a problem and he'd solve it first, cry later.  If the latter was even appropriate.  People only had so much capacity for caring, whatever preaches might claim. S.T. wanted to save the world, and by extension, as many of the overcrowded huddling masses as he could; it didn't mean he enjoyed being stuck on a Red Line train with any of them, whether they were banks or panhandlers.

Lunge stole his thunder, leaving S.T. the job of yes-man rather than strategist.  "That's exactly what I was going to suggest.  The Boy Wonder's got one.  Doctor Daedulus Yu-something."  He jogged down the stairs and opened the fire door for his biologically-based compatriots.  He'd lay money the animated shadows could walk through walls as easily as out of them, but he wasn't going to give them the courtesy.    "There's one upstairs in a boardroom, but it was on the other side of that machine-gun fire.  So unless you two gentlemen," he said, addressing the shadows, "are willing to shut up and pull your weight as decoys, the offices it is."