Night 58: Main Hallway, 1-West
[ from here ]
Sesshoumaru had not been in the building for nearly long enough to really know it, and his knowledge had not been expanded yesterday as it might otherwise have been, because of the poisons that had been fed into his system - poisons that somehow worked, which had been a disconcerting and unpleasant experience. In the end, though, all ( Read more... )
Sesshoumaru had not been in the building for nearly long enough to really know it, and his knowledge had not been expanded yesterday as it might otherwise have been, because of the poisons that had been fed into his system - poisons that somehow worked, which had been a disconcerting and unpleasant experience. In the end, though, all ( Read more... )
But even a guy self-trained to be a thief only had so much stamina for running, pissed off or not. When Byrne hit the main hallway, he had to stop to catch his breath. Rational, non-rage-induced thoughts were finally able to catch up with him, too.
... So they had taken Badd. He needed to think about where they could have taken him. The second floor? The east side of the building? Much of the area was still unfamiliar to Byrne, unfortunately, and this lack of knowledge would make searching difficult.
Not impossible, though. He will find Badd, no matter what. He just needed to start looking somewhere.
Byrne glanced down at the gun in his hand as he pondered what direction to take. Down the hall or up the stairs? What was more likely? The sooner he could find Badd, the better.
[Gren!]
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There were more people out in the main hall, and Gren stopped for a moment to make a quick threat assessment before he moved on. There weren't any obvious fights going on, but he did spot a familiar face who looked a little bit lost.
...and had a gun. That didn't seem like the best possible combination, really.
"Byrne?"
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"Gren?" He sounded more exhausted than anything at the moment - still trying to catch his breath from running. "What are you doing here?"
...Wow, Faraday. That was a dumb question. What was anyone doing here? No, really?
In any case, Byrne was largely unaware (for once) that he looked mildly threatening holding a gun in plain sight while having an expression that read I'm-this-close-to-freaking-killing-somebody-right-now. Why should he care what impression he was giving off? His best friend was being tortured right now, for crying out loud! He cared about saving a life here, not looking like a decent human being to anybody!
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"You okay? You look pretty upset." Okay, so he was really just countering a dumb question with one of his own. No one here was 'okay,' really. They'd all been kidnapped and were being run around like rats in a maze. "Anything I can help with?" He only had a shovel, but he figured that while he wasn't in the best shape anymore, he had combat experience, and if Byrne was in a hurry to do something rash--which the weapon and the way he was trying to catch his breath seemed to indicate--he could at least offer himself as backup.
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Anyone who knew Byrne for more than a few minutes would know that it took a lot - a lot - to upset him like this. The incredible depression he'd felt after his torture session was nothing like this. He'd been depressed before. Maybe not at that caliber, but he'd still been depressed more often than he'd lost his temper. That bitter, uncontrollable anger, that was rare for him. Normally he was sensitive to his surroundings and the people around him, but not now. Oh, not now ( ... )
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"They took someone? Okay. Can I help you search for him?" Because he wasn't about to let Byrne wander off in this sort of state, by himself, with what was possibly a loaded gun. That was going to end badly for someone, and he couldn't just ignore it in favor of his own goals. The records weren't going anywhere. He could try again for them tomorrow. It was more important to see what he could do here, even if it was just offer some reassurance and maybe help him calm down a little bit. He was better at helping other people than he was at helping himself, anyway.
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Byrne shifted his weight anxiously, his anger turning briefly into distress. "I-I don't know. Do you know where they take the nightly research patients?" he asked desperately. Please say yes, his eyes were saying. Gren didn't have to volunteer his time to help him find Badd, as much as Byrne would like assistance in this little rescue mission of his; simply knowing where Badd could be was just as big of a help as physically coming along.
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He didn't know how successful they'd really be, but at least it was something to aim for, and that might help calm Byrne down a bit. And if they could actually manage to find his friend, that would be a bonus.
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"Alright," he said quickly, nodding his head, "Let's hurry." He'd let Gren lead the way; it seemed like the other man knew more of where things were around here than Byrne did. The prosecutor had only been upstairs once and he didn't get the chance to explore very much of it. All he'd seen up there was a mail room. Barely scratching the surface of the second floor. If the patients weren't even allowed up there during the daytime, then it made the most sense for that area to be the place for the most sinister of deeds to take place.
...He didn't even want to think about what they might be doing to Badd right now. He just needed to find him.
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Hopefully there wouldn't be anything too nasty waiting for them when they got there.
[To here.]
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