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From here]If there was one thing that was annoying, it was locks. It wasn't that they weren't easy to pick, because most times they were. From the careful examination of the one right in front of him, for instance, Venom would be able to unlock it just fine. The problem was that he had none of the tools to actually pick said lock and therefore
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Forte hesitated again, shining the light up and down the next part of the hall. Of course, there were no blood stains, no sign of the fight or anything other than the general wrongness of the institute at night. After all, they cleaned everything every night, didn't they? And it was probably a week ago by now. Still, it didn't occur to him until he was here, but it was creepy being here again, going through the same motions. He had to wonder, if a giant cat jumped out at him from the dark, would the crutches tucked under his arms keep it from reaching him? Or would they just splinter and knock him down on the ground, helpless again?
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And at any rate, he'd like to see Beelzemon get mauled nearly to death and not be a little shaken up by the experience.
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But they were getting at something productive, and that was a lot more than Sylar could say about most of his time here. Didn't exactly fit in with Grell's promises of murder and mayhem, but right now, Sylar guessed they were just taking this one step at a time. You needed a cleaver before you could carve up the cow.
And he was getting tired of using the back end of his flashlight anyway.
Sylar stopped in front of the door along with Grell and then narrowed his eyes at the broken lock. Picking up leftovers wasn't exactly Sylar's idea of a great find, but then again, his and Grell's interests didn't exactly run along the mainstream. Maybe there'd be something left just for them ( ... )
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