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Nightshift 49: Mountain Antiques
aaaawkward stare
gargantuanlaugh wrote in damned
[From here]

Damon Gant took one step into the room and felt a rush of dizziness cloud his head. He staggered for a moment, and reached up to touch his temple. A headache? No, it was disappearing quickly, but he still didn't feel completely well. Probably the atmosphere. Gant had never been in this part of the institute, so he wasn't sure what he expected to find. Lana thought she knew where she was going but obviously her word couldn't be trusted.

Casting his flashlight's beam here and there, he quickly realized they had stumbled into what looked like some sort of storage room. Packed shelves lined the walls and filled the room, almost like it would a store. The storm sounded louder here than it had before they had entered.

"Doesn't look like any therapy is going on in here," the Chief joked, a bit distracted. He focused his flashlight on one of the shelves and moved closer, blinking. That piece of equipment seemed rather odd. Actually, was that a phonograph?

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[From here.]

The dizzying feeling returned as they stepped through the elaborate doorway, and Edgar found himself exiting a much simpler door, stepping into a cluttered building. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes, knowing his hands were covered a vile mixture of both his own blood and the monster's. He was certain he looked terrible enough without having anything else smeared on his face.

He shined his light around the dark room, keeping his other hand on the open wound on his shoulder. Tea pots, figurines, various porcelain oddities- it was some sort of curiosity shop. He turned, looking out the front windows of the store: rain pounding outside, familiar streets he'd seen earlier in the day.

"Doyleton?" he said, asking himself more than Gren. "It seems the doors can take us outside the walls of the institute. Perhaps that last room wasn't in the building at all."

Maybe it was the blood-loss, but that dizzy sensation was definitely worse this time around, and Gren nearly stumbled into Edgar as they came through the door. It was dark again, save for the other man's flashlight, and he could hear the rain again outside. The shelves seemed piled high with an ancient assortment of goods.

"Doylton?" He echoed. "That's where everyone was today, right? This looks like an antique store." The items might have been significantly older than he was used to seeing, but he could recognize the store's purpose easily enough. "Maybe not," he agreed. "I like that idea better than the thought that there are whole rooms in that place devoted to some weird skills test."

The pain in his arm reminded him rather insistently that they both needed a little time to patch themselves up. "I wonder if there's a first-aid kit." Granted, they needed way more than a couple of band-aids, but it would be a start.

"A first aid kit would be wonderful," Edgar said with a pained grimace. "Or potions. Or even magic. I'd take any of those options right now." He had to fight curiosity and his natural inclination of figuring out just what sort of tool he could piece together from some of the items lying around the shop in favor of taking care of wounds. Weapons could be repaired- there was only so much one could do for a person after a certain amount of time, and their injuries could not be ignored.

"I wandered in a few of these places earlier today," he continued as he walked down one of the aisles of knick knacks, "but didn't see a chemist among them. I suppose we could try the door again to see if it'd take us somewhere with medical supplies, but we'd be risking running into another monster. We might have to make due with what's here."

That in mind, he started looking a small rack labeled "Vintage Clothing" for something suitable for makeshift bandages. "I don't suppose you have training as a medic, do you?"

"I think staying here for now is our best option, yeah." He moved to look around behind the counter, hoping maybe something would be stashed there. Then again, there probably wasn't much call for things like rolls of gauze in an antique store. He frowned momentarily at the stuffed tiger. Not exactly the most welcoming sight, given their recent encounter.

"Only the basics, really. Enough to patch someone up until one of the real Medics could get there." He knew CPR and what to do if it looked like someone was going into shock, but neither of those skills was going to be particularly useful.

"I probably know about as much as you do, maybe a little less," Edgar admitted, pulling a blue, cotton dress from the rack. "Medicine has never been a strength of mine, unfortunately. Machines are far easier to fix than people. Less parts, less temperamental." He was willing to bet potions weren't readily available at the institute- recovery was already proving to be a pain.

He set his flashlight aside for a moment, taking the seam of the dress in both hands. He pulled it apart with a swift tug, the stitching snapping easily from the force and leaving him with a large piece of fabric. Using the miniature sword to make a few initial cuts at the edges, he tore it several more times, resulting in several thin lengths of cotton.

"These aren't perfect, but they'll do for now," Edgar said with a sigh, taking a few of his makeshift bandages to Gren. "Let's patch your arm first."

"Easier to get a replacement if something breaks entirely, too, I'd imagine," he replied as he watched Edgar take apart the dress. He knew all too well how fragile biology was, how easily it could be irreparably damaged.

Until now, he'd avoided looking too closely at the damage the monster had done to his arm, not wanting to think too much about it until they had the time to patch themselves up. Inspecting it now by flashlight, it was ugly, the skin punctured and torn, but the bleeding had slowed at least, and he figured that unless the institute liked to leave its patients sitting around with untreated wounds, it would eventually heal, although it might not be pretty. He set his flashlight down on the counter top, and grabbed what was left of the tee-shirt's sleeve, yanking it up over his shoulder. "I guess I should be grateful it didn't bite it clean off," he joked wryly.

Edited at 2010-06-10 06:19 am (UTC)

Edgar nodded. "It could be a lot worse," he said, a little leery to see his own wounds after getting a good look at Gren's. As carefully as possible, he wrapped a couple of the cotton bandages over the torn skin of Gren's arm, tying a knot to hold the ends in place. "That should last until morning, hopefully. I trust the staff won't let patients wander around with visible wounds."

He knelt, rolling up the leg of his pants: the claws of the beast hadn't cut his leg too deeply, dried blood already keeping the wound from bleeding more. He tied a quick bandage around the main tears, just in case the wounds opened again. His primary concern was with his other injury- it was giving him far more grief, and probably looked as bad as it felt.

Edgar rose to his feet, his legs feeling unsteady. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt as far over his shoulder as he could, hissing through his teeth as his fingers brushed against the bite marks. He couldn't get much of a view of it, much less bandage it with his bloodied shirt in the way. "You'll have to excuse me for this," he said, carefully pulling the garment over his head.

Yes, it looked just as terrible as he'd thought it might: deep holes marked where the beast's teeth had found him, the punctures sliced open as the creature had pulled away without fully releasing his shoulder. Blood trailed down his arm, still flowing freshly. He folded a few strips of the fabric, thickening the layer of bandaging as he wound it over his shoulder. He would be glad when he was finished- the medical work was rough on his injured limb.

"Remind me not to pick fights with giant cats until I have something more suitable to wear than this," he said dryly. "These clothes manage to be garish and impractical."

"No more giant cat fights for either one of us, I think," he replied. He kept an eye on Edgar's progress until he was sure the blond had a handle on bandaging himself up before he walked over to the clothing rack Edgar had been searching through previously. There were a few fairly garish looking neck ties handing there, and after a moment of contemplation, in which he realized it really didn't matter which of the ugly things he picked, he grabbed one off the rack.

Knotting the ends together was a bit tricky, but he had a little bit of dexterity left in his left hand, even if he couldn't move the arm itself much. He tossed the finished result around his neck and slipped his wrist through the makeshift sling. Hopefully that would take some of the strain off, anyway. When he was done, he walked back to where he'd left his flashlight.

"You want to rest here, or should we risk trying to leave?" They seemed safe, for the moment, and there was no telling where they'd wind up if they tried to walk out again--did whatever was affecting the doors spread as far as the town? It hurt his head to think about. Then again, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in an antique store.

Edgar looped the loose end of cloth strip through the rest of the bandaging, trying to ignore the fact that blood was already soaking through the fabric. He pulled his shirt over his head, a groan escaping him as he maneuvered his injured arm into the sleeve. His improvised first aid would have to do for the time being; they had no other options.

He got to his feet, retrieving his flashlight and the sword relic. He kept his light in his left hand, the small weapon in the right- he was certain his wounded limb wouldn't be of much use. "We should move," he said decisively, eyeing the large, stuffed tiger as he headed for the door. "Staying in one place for too long seems riskier somehow. I'm not sure if the doors here in town are bewitched as well, but it's worth giving them a shot. Perhaps if we keep going and are lucky, we'll find somewhere that will give us some answers as to why we're here in the first place, or maybe where here is."


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