Night 48: Equipment/Chemical Storage

[anemptydecapo]

[Breaking down doors since the last time he broke a door~]The now broken knob to the door was stubbornly ignored as it rolled across the floor, as was the majority of the room. The assassin instead immediately made his way to the yellow cabinets ahead and pried them open. Bottle upon bottle of dangers chemicals? Hm... It didn't look like any of

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[runner_up_robot]

[from here]

"Here we are!" At last, the storage room. He quickly walked over to the yellow cabinets, and pulled them open, to find... beakers and bottles of chemicals.

"Whoops, wrong one."

On the other side, however, in the blue cabinets he found what he was looking for. A stash of surgical tools and clear containers, including boxes of surgical scissors and scalpels.

[brooklynisangry]

"Nice!" The room looked... well, not like much, but it was at least different from the white and boring that was pretty much everywhere else here. He looked over Forte's shoulder, shining his flashlight down at the stuff. The little knife things weren't much, but he could care less. "Man, I've been missin' my claws." He picked up one of the knives, checking out the edge. "Ow! Okay, these'll work." Maybe he should've been more careful about that one.

[runner_up_robot]

Setting his crutches aside, Forte started looking through the shelves. The scalpels were his main interest, of course, but if he could find something else useful, all the better. There was also another small cardboard box full of what looked like blades that had been encased in plastic to make them less dangerous. He dumped them out as useless, and put a few of the small scissors in there while Beelzemon was examining the scalpels.

"Yeah, they're small but sharp." Not that he'd know from personal experience of course. He certainly hadn't stabbed his own hand during that big fight with the cat... and anyway, the tiny scar wasn't even noticeable, especially against the large discolored ones across his arm and shoulder and torso.

[brooklynisangry]

"Dah, that went right through th' glove an' everythin'!" He just got his stuff back, too! Well, he hoped it'd be like when he was a Digimon. Wait long enough, and clothing stuff just straightened itself out anyway.

Well, whatever. He was taking five of those things. They worked, so he wanted extras, in case he--okay, for when he was sure to lose them.

[7_to_midnight]

[ From here. ]

He made his way into the room quickly and quietly. Although Sylar wasn't really trying to avoid a fight, he wasn't raring for one either, and if someone here could recognize him, it was all the more reason to be careful. Already, he could make out the backs of two other patients and - yeah, sure enough, one of them was... Poké-Man, or whatever his name was. And dammit, from the glint of metal off their collective flashlights, it looked like they'd already gotten all the interesting stuff.

Sylar's mouth twisted in frustration as the two guys moved back to the yellow cabinets, leaving... well, not much. Sylar briefly considered turning around and clocking them both before they took the equipment too far away, but he soon realized there were some interesting items in the disarray in front of him. They hadn't taken all the sharp goodies: in fact, they'd dumped out an entire pile of plastic-covered razors in favor of the scalpels. Great stuff for makeshift shivs, which actually might be more inconspicuous than the