DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Nightshift 42: Kitchin' Fixins'
hey man why are you staring.
ran_on_empty wrote in damned
Everything seemed to be perfectly fine.

After calming Dahlia down and agreeing to hide the spice bottle they had decided to spend the rest of their time in that store. It didn't really matter where they went; he certainly didn't need the protection of some manmade weapon and if the redhead wanted to waste this opportunity then so be it. And so he nestled himself back into his mask, smiling and striking up a lighthearted conversation whenever Dahlia spoke.

While it seemed odd that they were still in town even as the sun was setting Sync didn't bother to pay much attention. He knew well enough that they'd be rounded up eventually, so there was no need to speed up the inevitable.

And then it happened.

The God-General glanced up the moment he sensed something strange, and yet even he wasn't prepared for what he was about to witness. The store was suddenly decaying right before his eyes; the once clean space was now rusted and filthy, and the structure creaked as if the entire building had been rotting for decades.

However, what struck Sync the most was not the wilted appearance of the building, but the inhabitants that were lingering inside the store as well. The smell of rotten flesh was unmistakable and familiar, but the fact that it came so suddenly was enough to turn his stomach. It seemed as if everyone around them was caught in this spell, their heavy feet shuffling towards them while their empty groans filled the air.

Sync finally took a step back, eyes wide with shock from the unexpected transformation. He almost didn't notice one of the creatures approaching him from the side, but he immediately reacted the moment it lunged at him, dodging off to the side before grabbing a fistful of hair and slamming its head down into the counter.

"W-what the hell is this?!" Sync roared, anger evident in his voice.

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[From here]

Alfred had found his way to the kitchen wares store shortly after he'd eaten lunch. He'd wound up spending the majority of his afternoon browsing the store's selection. It wasn't as though he could purchase any of it, given his current situation, but it was comforting to fall back on things that were familiar to him. Alfred had circled around the store several times - glancing outside at intervals - and was starting to wonder when they were going to get back on the buses as he watched the sun sink lower in the sky.

He looped back around to the isle reserved for quality baking supplies, nodding polite acknowledgment to the young lady who was also browsing the spices, and turned his attention to the shelves. As he stood there the shelves sank into disrepair and a single harsh, raspy breath came from the direction of the young lady as a decaying hand grasped his arm with surprising strength. Alfred turned to face the creature, pulling his arm free as he did so. The thing's fingernails had made nasty gashes in the coat's arm, but they'd missed Alfred's skin. His other hand was already reaching for a bag of cake flour. He grabbed it, ripping it open with his other hand in the same motion, and threw it into the creature's face in an explosion of white powder.

Now that his opponent was temporarily blinded, Alfred grabbed two more bags of flour, shoving them into one of those "environmentally friendly" canvas sacks that they had hanging at the end of the isle, before chancing a quick dash back in the direction of the creature (zombie?) that was moaning and stumbling around the isle. He grabbed a few spices from the shelf - cayanne pepper, black pepper, and a few others that he grabbed without really looking at them. The bottles of pepper got zipped into the side pockets of his jacket - one in each - and the other spices got tossed into the back, which, in turn, got slung over his shoulder as he moved quickly down the isle.

He armed himself with a large rolling pin from the next isle, using it to beat aside the zombies that came at him. Finally he reached the knife case. Alfred made sure he was clear of the zombies for the moment before lowering his face, covering it with an arm, as he brought the rolling pin down, smashing it through the case and giving him access to some of the higher quality knives that the store carried. He paused for a moment. If these beings were the citizens of this town... but there wasn't time to think. He should grab the knives now and get as far as he could without having to use them. Besides, they might be useful in other ways. A knife's sole purpose was not to kill. Alfred grabbed a few parring knives, a chef's knife, and a meat cleaver. They were brand new, and still had a protective cardboard sleeve wrapped around each of their blades, in addition to their plastic sheathes.

Alfred put them into his bag, slinging it back over his shoulder as he beat another zombie back with his rolling pin and proceeded to fight his way to the door.

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