Comments | damned: Night 50: M101-M110 Hallway

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Night 50: M101-M110 Hallway

Jul 10, 2010 13:58

Weapons in hand, Heat was out in the hall the moment the doors opened. There had to be something, a scent in the air that might alert him to the presence of one of Landel's creations. His hunger wouldn't be denied for another night. Though he was still without his flashlight, that didn't really matter. His other senses should be enough to find ( Read more... )

forte, kirk, masaomi, heat, ishida, minato, russia, mccoy, green arrow

Comments 47

M108 vodka_jump July 11 2010, 18:25:51 UTC

Russia had waited expectantly as he ate his dinner, wondering when Pavel might show up, but there'd only been one tray, and it'd been very quiet and still until the announcements crackled on the air, breaking the silence. He might have spent a good portion of his life alone, but that was not the way he preferred it, if he was completely honest. There was something almost instinctive in him that begged, needed to be around others. And when making friends didn't work, force was sometimes required. Maybe it was because he'd been alone so long that he was desperate not to let it happen again ( ... )

Re: M108 doneinthree July 14 2010, 06:30:15 UTC

[from here]

It was quieter down this way, which - considering their reasons for being here - didn't exactly provide Kirk with a whole lot of comfort. On the other hand, it made this as good a time as any to bring up his concerns about Spock. Somehow Kirk doubted that he would've told Bones about it on his own. Like himself and the doctor, Spock seemed like a man who preferred keeping his personal life private.

Normally, this was something Kirk would respect. But while he didn't doubt that Spock could do his job, he knew from his own mind-screw incident that whatever had been done to them didn't end just there. Bones had spent the last several nights in Spock's company, and was a doctor to boot. If anyone would know what to look for...

"It was another nighttime 'experiment'." Kirk moved down the hallway, counting off the door numbers as he passed. "Before you arrived here. Several prisoners ended up... experiencing the deaths of someone they'd known. Out of nowhere, almost without warning, they would incur the same wounds, and then ( ... )

Re: M108 hes_deadjim July 15 2010, 06:59:41 UTC

McCoy jerked to a halt and rounded on Kirk in the same movement ( ... )

Re: M108 doneinthree July 17 2010, 22:27:49 UTC

Kirk didn't pull back when McCoy's hand suddenly came between him and the door, but his face clearly showed surprise at the doctor's outburst, before shifting to something more contemplative as the doctor went on. Having Bones tell him off wasn't exactly a new experience, and he knew well enough that negligence in medical matters was the one thing that was guaranteed to trigger him. What he wasn't used to, however, was having to tell Bones about these things ( ... )

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M109 runner_up_robot July 12 2010, 06:43:13 UTC

Despite spoiling for a fight - desperate, even - Forte stopped to actually think about what to do. He didn't even bother with the drawer, he was already feeling like all the stuff he had was charity. But the important thing was the special counseling - that was when people were taken, and turned against the other patients, wasn't it? That was what he'd have to find. He couldn't find any monsters all of a sudden, but he'd prefer to fight a person anyway.

So, where would he find these special counseling patients? He'd been in the halls upstairs, and never met one. The monsters tended to jump out from the dark in the far corners, so maybe they were more common in the halls. For a real fight, they'd need a bigger area. So, he'd have to explore a different direction - the field or the sun room would be the best arenas. With at least a vague idea about where to go, he loaded his scalpels into his pockets, grabbed his hammer, and set out.

He didn't like feeling like a charity case, but he wouldn't pass up being a more dangerous adversary

Re: M109 foolishmessiah July 12 2010, 23:47:46 UTC

An explanation for the "construction" that had been happening last night. It seemed too good to be true, especially knowing that the Head Doctor had no intention of simply letting them go. What was the point of giving them something they could use to their advantage? This was different from asking other patients from help or finding things on his own ( ... )

Re: M109 runner_up_robot July 31 2010, 01:10:19 UTC

[to here]

M?? arrowonline July 13 2010, 03:28:29 UTC

It probably said something about his life, Oliver reflected, that he could identify a hospital room on waking by nothing more than the heavy scent of antiseptic and the scratchy feel of overly starched bedclothes beneath his cheek. It probably said a great deal more about his life that these cues had long since ceased to provoke a moment of dislocated panic; instead, he found himself performing a swift physical assessment. Hands, legs, torso and head all accounted for, the last one protesting the trek back into wakefulness with a grumpy viciousness that suggested either too long spent unconscious, or too many toxins pumped through his veins ( ... )

Re: M?? arrowonline July 13 2010, 03:30:16 UTC

His eyes opened, finally, and he strained to see through the pitch black of the room. That was unusual; hospital rooms weren't usually quite so dark. He pushed himself up, hand groping along the near wall for a light switch, or a lamp, or a call button. His other hand, still beneath the pillow, hit something round and metal, and for a few seconds, he froze. Then he traced the shape, and let out a nigh-inaudible sigh of relief. Flashlight. Which was strange as hell, but not ominous in and of itself. Maybe there was a power failure, then. That would explain the pitch dark, though not why the light had been under his pillow, of all places. He could ask about that when he found someone. For the time being, he switched the flashlight on, and swept it over the room. Still dim, two-person, with beds and desks and (now that was strange, too) no spare beds for visitors.

Okay, so. Hospital, of some sort. No lights. No wounds. And even from that quick observation of the room, he could tell the ward, wherever it was, was neither ( ... )

M?? repelling July 18 2010, 07:12:10 UTC

In the silence following Kurosaki's departure, Uryuu diverted his attention with care. He observed Inoue-san without staring, he noted the stains and tears in his uniform, he adjusted his eyes to the sight of his arm without its hand, felt as if he was curling his fingers when nothing moved. As Inoue-san worked, and slowly the wound through him closed, and slowly his wrist shaped, and his palm, knuckles, fingers joint by joint, he flexed his fingers, pressing them into his palm ( ... )

Re: M?? bravados July 18 2010, 09:44:31 UTC

He stood by the hook of the old warehouse crane a little longer, drenched and staring at the characters some triumphant young fool must have spray-painted there months ago: The Blue Dynasty is dead. The sky has fallen. There was no right answer to which color he'd label the dead by... and this time, he wouldn't make bets on blue, yellow or whatever color represented no-color-at-all. He even vaguely entertained knowing better than that ( ... )

Re: M?? repelling July 18 2010, 13:08:01 UTC

About his age, dyed hair (Kurosaki's may have been natural, but though Uryuu's expertise laid more with fabrics, he knew at once), and those initial details were all he managed before the boy began to move and speak. (Those details not blurry because despite a failure to detail it before, upon waking, one of the first things performed was an instinctive search for and donning of his glasses). It took Uryuu a moment to understand; though they spoke the same language, he was talking nonsense. Stage lights? Romeo and Juliet?

Obliging at least this far, Uryuu dropped the light from the guy's face, catching a grey shirt with a yellow smiley face symbol. Having taken stock of his own unfamiliar clothing, he knew they matched. Prisoners? The smell indicated that, if so, they were in a hospital.

"What?" he hissed, whispering on instinct - despite the fact that he'd just made more than enough noise with his graceful propulsion into the desk. Then, the frank if irritable query: "Are you insane? That would explain..." no, not an awful lot, as ( ... )

Re: M?? bravados July 19 2010, 04:07:06 UTC

Masaomi dropped his arm slightly once the light was lowered, peering over his forearm to see what he could of the other person. A kid around his age (an irritated one at that), pale and sporting a smiley shirt. It contrasted with the guy's tone, even if it matched the oddness of the situation. Had he also been kidnapped ( ... )

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