A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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Night 52: Bill's Hardware Store
daaaw, reflective, Oh Squirrel Baby you're my only sunshine
savagesolitude wrote in damned
[From here.]

She strode hastily into the store (keeping mind of where the broken glass had fallen, mind you), no longer caring if the Sergeant was keeping up. Even if the store somehow didn't have an alarm system ringing off right now, someone could have heard her break in. It was more likely than not, so she had to be quick. Get what she wanted and get out.

"Okay, knives, drills, pliers..." Useful things, but not what she needed now. Though she did stop briefly by the garden shears, considering them for a moment before moving on. Those things were sharp, but the knife she had tucked into her pants was better. Easier to manage, and a lot less messy.

She bypassed the chainsaws too. She'd never operated one, and she doubted she could keep up with the constant need for fuel. Plus the weight would be a hassle. But then across from them - ah. There.

Claire smiled, hefting a long, freshly polished ax into her hands. Now there was something she could use. She flipped it around and brought the head upright, trailing a finger along the edge. Freshly sharpened, too. Nice.

Though it was tempting, she shouldn't grab more than she should carry. They needed to travel light, and there were more supplies they needed. Medicine and food. An American map, if they could find one. One of the local area wouldn't be a bad idea either. One thing she did grab, however, was a sturdy cloth tool bag. She removed the plastic one from her shoulder and dumped the candy inside. Much more durable.

"Anything you need?" Claire asked, glancing up at her companion. "Better grab it now. Someone probably heard us come in."

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"No--wait, you can't--look, you can't..." Carter was reduced to a helpless stammer as Claire inexplicably started breaking the store window. "Why are you doing that? You can't do that!" It was illegal, and on top of that not very nice. He reached for Claire's arm to pull her back but she was already inside the store and acting like she owned the place.

Wow. She really was a crazy person. And her sudden inexplicable attraction to the ax wasn't comforting in the slightest. Carter hovered at the doorway anxiously, ears perked for the inevitable yelling and sirens that would ensue. "I don't know a whole lot about what's going on here, but I really don't think you're supposed to do that," he asserted weakly. "And maybe I'm not a squeaky clean guy but I definitely don't go stealing things from Americans because that's just wrong. I mean, no offense."

Carter tried to make his tone as polite as possible. Perhaps not a good idea to be rude to her when she had that ax.

The man was spluttering indignantly at her, rambling on about stealing from Americans (how was that different from stealing from anyone else?) and how she wasn't supposed to do this or that. All Claire could find it in herself to do was stare right back, brows creeping up her forehead in disbelief.

Was he serious? Did he just not get it? He'd been locked up in that same hospital as her. By his own country, she might add. Neither one of them was crazy in the normal sense. Considering that and how the night worked, it was pretty obvious they'd been put there because someone wanted them gone.

Claire huffed. Shook her head and stood up straight, shouldering the new bag and stuffing the knife into the outside pocket. It was safer than carrying it in her pants for the rest of the night and she'd still be able to grab it if she needed. Better than falling on it and cutting open her leg. "Look, at times like this you gotta do what you gotta do. No matter how bad it seems. It's them or us, and I pick us."

She drew closer, steel in her eyes and ax dangling in her grip. "You're on my side, right Andrew?"

Edited at 2010-10-28 12:42 am (UTC)

Carter took a step back, fear and shock in his eyes--not of her, though the ax was scary, but at what she was thinking of doing. She was on his side. People on his side didn't do horrible things. Stupid things but not horrible things, it was a scientific kind of fact.

He nodded shakily, eyes on her weapon. She really had to be crazy. If he didn't set her straight she might hurt somebody and he'd never be able to forgive himself. "They're just people living here, they're not the bad guys. Why would you want to do that? And they're our kind of people, they're not Krauts." Carter caught himself being backwards again and quickly added in, "The Nazi kind, I mean, not the kind here.

He pointed at the ax, expression growing a bit firmer. "Now, I don't know what, what you got in mind with that thing and I don't know how people do things here but where I come from we don't go chopping innocent people up for no good reason."

Carter sighted on a bin of upright crowbars just to the side of Claire. He really didn't want to hurt her but if the store owner came back...well, Colonel Hogan would never stand for this kind of behavior and Carter liked to think he should emulate his S.O. whenever possible.

He was getting all sorts of wrong impressions, wasn't he?

"...I don't...chop up innocent people for no reason," Claire replied slowly, shaking her head. No, she didn't like killing people. Never had, never will. Unless the people in this town tried to hurt them or send them back to the asylum, she had no reason to hurt them at all. "I'm talking about the people from the institute. The nurses. Or whoever put us there in the first place. If they come looking for us, we have to be prepared."

If anything, she should be asking him what he had in mind. Where the hell he'd gotten Nazis from was a total mystery. (It took her a moment to work out where she'd heard that term before. Yet another piece of trivia forgotten until now.) Then there was the question of why was he so worried about what Claire might do in the first place. If he had a bit of sense in him, he'd be taking up arms with her.

Or it was like she thought earlier: he was working against her.

She was being careful about that already, for sure, yet she couldn't convince herself of it entirely. He had yet to reach for a weapon at all. If he wanted her dead, he was already two steps behind and wearing a bullseye over his heart. Not very smart for a supposed spy.

"All I've ever done is what I needed to do to survive. And sometimes that means you have to get messy." She hesitated. Somehow this felt like explaining matters to an upstanding Sunday school child. The boyish face and wide eyes he kept giving her weren't helping the impression. She took pity on him and sighed, her expression dropping into a softer note. "Look, I don't like it anymore than you do, but we need this stuff more than any of them. They have money. Homes. No one's chasing after them. But we don't have any of that."

Unsure, Claire tried on a humble smile. She wasn't trying to scare the guy if he was on her side. Just help him face facts.

Edited at 2010-10-28 10:25 am (UTC)

The smile went a long way towards comforting Carter, but he had a very very long way to go before he could be optimistic again. "Well..." he started nervously, one hand rubbing at the other. "I'm still not going to hurt people that don't have anything to do with all this."

The nurses didn't really seem like bad women either, but none of the Nazi women acted that mean either. It would be so much easier to do things if the evil people just looked evil and stopped trying to blur the lines by using disguises.

Carter wandered over to the box of crowbars and slowly slid one out, looking to Claire with his teeth digging into his lower lip. It wasn't meant to be a threatening gesture, more one of 'I'm with you, I just don't like it'. He let it swing out a few times and then put it over his shoulder, chemical-stained fingers anxiously twisting against the cold metal. "All we really need to do is get out of here and get to the police or the army or something. Then we can get everyone out and we don't have to worry about chopping up anyone. All right?"

He offered her a hand of diplomacy and a tiny, hopeful smile.

"And I won't either," Claire affirmed. She meant every ounce of it. "Not unless they hurt me."

That was a given, of course.

The police. Sure. It would be nice if they could count on them to jump in, but even being back within the real world didn't have Claire leaping for any helping hands just yet. If the police had any wind of this, or any power to help out at all (what could the police do against all the weird magic stuff?), wouldn't they be here already? She couldn't count how many days she had spent waiting for a miraculous rescue to come. For a plane to fly over the island canopy, for a boat to float in from the horizon, for a working radio from the Others or a telephone in the hatches. For her friends to come back and save her.

It took a lot of staring out at the ocean before she realized that no one was ever going to come. She couldn't count on anyone else then, so why should she start now? The whole world thought she had vanished three years ago. Her plane had gone down in the Pacific, and Jack and the rest of the people that came back told everyone she was dead. That they were all dead. No one would even be looking for her: her name would be crossed out from every record they checked. No Claire Littleton here.

Even so, she took the man's hand and gave it a gentle shake. Whereas Bella's had been smooth to the touch, Andrew's felt the same as hers. All callouses and scars. It was comforting, in a way. "I hope so too."

She didn't have the heart to kill his hope. It was an awful thing to lose.

Another smile and she pulled away, resting the ax over her shoulder like a lumberjack. Her tone switched to chipper now that the rough bit was out of the way. "So. This restaurant you were talking about. Where is it?" A tongue darted out to wet chapped lips and her gaze turned to the broken door. Nice as it was, the packet of beef jerky hadn't taken her far. "It would be nice to grab something that isn't candy."

Edited at 2010-10-28 09:23 pm (UTC)

The hopeful look widened into a full grin. All right, so maybe Carter didn't need that much encouragement to be happy. "Yeah, boy. I mean, ma'am." Now things would be all right and he could show her some people could be pretty friendly people.

The thought that a wandering couple dressed as asylum patients, carrying no money and wielding implements of destruction from a broken-into store didn't cross the young sergeant's mind They had been so nice before, they'd be nice this time too.

Carter paused at the glass-scattered doorway. "And no chopping anybody up while we're there, okay?" he said with the slightest of laughs.

[To here.]

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