DAMNED || LANDEL'S INSTITUTE

A Multifandom Asylum RPG


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Night 49: Bill's Hardware
all i want is the world
swornandbroken wrote in damned
[from here]

Mello was ready for it, sure, but dizziness still took him for a moment as he put his foot down somewhere completely other than the hall that should have been there. He swayed on his feet, making an abortive, instinctive grab for his gun before realizing he didn't need it. Yet.

The beam of Matt's flashlight illuminated more shelves, this time packed not with drugs but with tools: nails, screws, hammers, power tools. Mello wished fervently that he'd brought his pillowcase with him to serve as a shopping bag. This might have been random, but it was working out pretty damn well for him. He looked over at Matt with a grin, managing, mostly successfully, to beat back the thought that no matter how much cool shit they got, it wouldn't make a difference at all in the end; that at some level, even the randomness was inherently controlled by Landel, and offered no more than the illusion of freedom.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he said, a note of defiance in his voice.

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[From here.]

The Scarecrow moved through the doorway, finding himself in a familiar building. He bit his lip in brief frustration- they'd already been here once tonight. There really was no rhyme or reason to pattern to where they would go- it seemed no matter what door they took, there was always a chance of returning to Doyleton and to places previously visited.

He turned quickly to Kibitoshin and Remy, putting a hand on the wall to steady himself. "Back here again. We've got to keep moving. Should we go back, or look for another door?"

It was good to have someone like the Scarecrow to bolster both of them up with his optimism. Kibitoshin had been all but ready to give up and spend the rest of the night in that mail-room-type-place, and it looked like Remy had been (was still?) just about there too; having someone around who was so positive was perfect for putting things in perspective. They couldn't give up now, no way! They still hadn't found that kitchen!

Admittedly, it was slightly disheartened to then end up right back in Doyleton, but this time Kibitoshin was more than ready to try and face his demo- er, zombies. "Maybe we should look around a little this time?" he suggested, peering through the darkness of the shop for something worth checking out. "There might be something useful in here."

This place, again? Remy's disgust was visible in his expression and his defeated posture. This time, he was so annoyed that he forgot to be afraid at all. He was tired of seeing the same weird places over and over. In spite of the fact that nobody would even recognize him anymore, he felt a wave of longing for home, for the stones that paved the alley behind Gusteau's, for the little sleeping area Linguini had made for him -- heck, he'd even be happy to live in Linguini's toque again.

"Do you guys even know what this place is? A few of these things look familiar, but I don't know what most of it is good for." As he spoke, he began to walk further into the store. Some of the items were familiar, but in many cases, he'd never seen them before.

"I've been to Doyleton twice now- aside from tonight, that is- and I don't recognize this place," the Scarecrow admitted, following Kibitoshin's suggestion of looking around. "Then again, I've not been in many places. Last time, I spent the whole day in one place. Today, I met a man in the park and we went to a restaurant. There's a good chance this is just one of the many buildings I've not been to yet."

He walked down a cluttered aisle- had it been this messy just a short while ago? "I know what a few of these things are, too," he said, picking up a hammer (it was a lot heavier than he thought it'd be!). "Most of this stuff is pretty strange-looking, though. I can't imagine what some of these tools are for."

As he returned the hammer to a shelf, he spotted a stray can of oil- there was that homesick feeling again. Against his better judgment, he took another look at the strange box he'd found earlier, holding it under his flickering light: yes, that was definitely the Tin Man, rusty joints and all. The Scarecrow hoped his friend was keeping oiled in his absence and not crying over his lost friend. He had such a soft heart.

"I think it's a tool shop," Kibitoshin suggested, peering uncertainly around the aisle the Scarecrow and Remy were heading down, since even if they were looking around this time, he didn't want them to get separated some place so dangerous. He picked a wrench (or a spanner, maybe? He wasn't sure) off of the shelf nearby and held it up demonstratively (although exactly what he was demonstrating he wasn't certain). "I'm pretty sure this is a wrench or something like that. You know, for putting things together or taking them apart. And this is definitely a vice, for holding things. I think."

Still, it was pretty surprising that neither of them seemed to recognise exactly what they were- okay, so he wasn't one hundred percent sure either, but he was still in training, and he kind of knew some of it. The Scarecrow, on the other hand, seemed totally puzzled by it all. It might be rude to ask about it, but...

There was no contest. His curiosity won out against his manners, and before he could stop himself Kibitoshin was hurrying along beside his partners, still holding the wrench. "You haven't seen any of these before? Don't they have them where you're from?"

Remy frowned. "Well... I grew up on a farm, but I didn't use tools, myself... I've seen some of this stuff before, but I don't know how to use it. I was more interested in the kitchen. When I ha-- when I came to Paris, I mostly just learned how to use kitchen tools."

It was time to tread carefully; there were only so many questions about his past that Remy could answer without getting into deep water. To cover, he began to examine the shelves and racks.

"What sorts of things have you run into aside from zombies? I came across a guy with a gun once, but I haven't seen any of these monsters that people are always complaining about. If they're real, though, and not just a lot of talk... some of the things here might be useful." He picked up a thin metal bar with a curved, tapered head, and held it up so the other two could see it. "Like this."

Well, it seemed the Scarecrow and Remy had something in common! "My early days were on a farm as well," he said with a small smile, returning the box to his pocket as he reached the end of the aisle, where he carefully stepped over some knocked-over cans of paint. "That's where I recognize some of these tools, like the hammers and axes. I've never used any of them, but I've seen them at work."

The Scarecrow took hold of a small hatchet- it was a little like the Tin Man's, but smaller and with a wooden handle rather than one of metal. He returned it to the shelf a moment later, as it made him homesick again. He couldn't see himself using it (he had trouble picturing himself hurting anything. He was more of a thinker than a fighter).

"I'm not sure these will do any good against some of the things I've seen wandering the halls at night, though," he said, a tingling running through him at the mere thought. "The second floor is downright cursed! There's this Mangled Witch, who was disguised as some sort of hairy something and tried to suffocate Depth Charge and I with her magic, and these little somethings that nipped at Kaiji and I were up there..."

The Scarecrow trailed off, briefly disheartened when he mentioned his former roommate. He hoped Depth Charge was safe and that the magicked doors hadn't taken him somewhere ultimately unpleasant. He continued after a short pause: "It couldn't hurt to try to use something here to defend yourself. My flashlight didn't do a thing to the Mangled Witch, but something like an axe might."

So both of them came from farms... well, that should have been fairly obvious with the Scarecrow (unless he was some kind of terrifyingly futuristic robot scarecrow or something, or unless his name was a trap) but that did leave Kibitoshin wondering what Remy was, since he wasn't human. An animal, maybe?

"I don't think I've even been on a farm before," he confessed, "but I guess I learned about it all from my training. I do cook a little, though!" he added, nodding triumphantly at Remy. That was something, wasn't it? Even if he didn't quite know where Paris was on Earth. It... was on Earth, right?

Thank goodness the subject changed almost straight away! There was no way he wanted to be caught out if Remy asked any more about the cooking-in-Paris thing. The subject matter wasn't exactly the most palatable, but he could cope with that. Hopefully.

"A hairy suffocating mangled witch? And things that bite?" Kibitoshin stared at the Scarecrow, swallowed hard, then looked down at the spanner-wrench in his hand anxiously. "I guess I'll be sticking with this, then. I hope the storekeeper doesn't mind me taking it."

Remy glanced again at the bar he was holding, listened to the Scarecrow's description of why he called the place upstairs 'The Horrible Hallway.' Then, he took a quick look at the tool Scarecrow had held up, and frowned: it was like a cleaver. That was OK when you needed to cut meat to cook it up, but he didn't want to be the one to hurt anyone that badly. That made his decision easy.

"I'm going to stick with the metal thing. Are you guys ready to go?"

Without waiting for an answer, he marched towards the door. Since he'd given up on the kitchen, maybe this time he'd wind up back in his room, where he could get a good night's sleep.

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