A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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Night 59: Main Hallway, 1-West
got your back
doneinthree wrote in damned
[from here]

Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.

(What had killed that creature?)

Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.

Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.


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[From here.]

Edgar slammed a rat into the wall with the blade of his shovel, cleaving it in a single blow. He had briefly considered upon seeing the number of monsters running around— far more than he'd ever seen in the institute at once, and increasing in quantity by the minute— that he should return to his room to arm himself better, perhaps with his Spinning Cutter; however, carrying such a tool would slow him down, and time truly was of the essence.

The weight would also wear on him, a stress he was realizing more with each passing moment as one he did not need. His hand trailed the wall for a few feet before he came to rest against it. A bead of sweat ran down his temple- though he'd dispatched that rat easily enough, it was becoming obvious what the true reason for his exhaustion was.

Obvious to only a certain degree: he felt sick, the fire in him stoked to a blaze. His chest burned as it had the night of his sleep study, growing more and more intense for reasons he couldn't fully explain. His best guess was one that sounded plausible at best, but given the chaos in the hallways and the corpses of beasts lining the floors instead of those of patients, it was the only one he could think of that made any degree of sense at all: those captives with powers had found them returned, or the restrictions on them lifted somehow. Edgar had lost all of his magic since his arrival, though there were others who kept their gifts in a limited fashion. He'd seen that for himself.

Perhaps their magic hadn't been lost; it was simply suppressed. And without restriction, there were bound to be those who would take the chance to tear the institute apart without regard for the other patients.

He leaned back into the wall, stifling a groan. He couldn't tell if he had his magic returned or not, and to be honest, didn't feel well enough to try. He swallowed a deep breath, trying to bite down the nausea that hit him. If the magic supposedly gifted to him through his Magitek infusion had been under the same block as the rest...

The spells he had learned before his arrival were via Magicite, the safer and more effective method; the infusion process had its faults, ones he was hoping he would not see that night. He knew how to control learned magic, but something that came naturally as it coursed through his veins was an entirely different matter. It'd be worse for Terra if she lost control of her abilities, as well.

Edgar pushed himself from the wall, forcing himself to keep moving.

[from here]

The stench of blood was far stronger here, but there was more than that at play here. The girl nearly recoiled backwards as she entered the hall, disoriented. There were too many sensations to feel, a tangled mess of scent, power and sensation. There had been moments before, blips of recognition, like a long-faded perfume, but nothing like this.

What was going on?

She pinched her lips together between her teeth, swinging her flashlight to the people gathered here. She knew she hadn't passed anyone on the way, but it would be much easier to miss someone she was searching for in a crowded hall-- there.

"Edgar!" she called, moving to intercept him before he continued on.

Despite the noises trailing to his ears in every direction— the squalls of creatures, the clattering of weapons on the floor, the faint hums of someone singing down the corridor— Edgar picked out Terra's voice easily, her call instantly recognizable. He was sure he looked dreadful (and really ought not to be thinking about that at the moment, but it was a force of habit), but the important part was that he'd managed to reach her before she got too far, especially since she had wandered from her room, as expected.

And really, given all that was occurring around them, he couldn't blame her.

"Terra," he addressed as he reached her, taking a deep breath to quell the fire in him. He tried to seem more collected than he truly was. "So much for a casual evening of getting reacquainted. Are you all right?"

That was the most pressing question on his mind. He wasn't sure what could be done if she lost control of her abilities right there in the building... if there was anything he could do at all. With the poor luck of the patients, it was likely the only ones who could help her out of that state would be the doctors. It was a miserable fate either way.

"I'm fine," was an easy answer, unharmed as she was. The familiar ache of headaches were absent, leaving the girl remarkably clear-headed and attentive, and between cure and sleep the physical wear-down of the night prior was mostly erased. Her leg was still sore and bruised beneath her clothing, but the throb of pain was negligible.

Without that pain drawing her attention inward, it was easier to see that Edgar was not faring as well as he had that morning. "What about you?" she asked, her pale eyebrows scrunching beneath what loose hair escaped the beret. "You seem......"

Her voice trailed off, uncertain how to describe the change.

Edgar's brow knitted in mild frustration. "'Ill' is appropriate enough," he said, finishing her statement. He was painfully aware of his condition, which only added to his irritation. It was a sore reminder of the depths to which the staff would sink, of the experiments they performed on their patients for reasons ultimately unknown. They wanted to see if he could survive it, yes... but to what end?

He squeezed the bridge of his nose, pushing that frustration from him. "I appreciate your concern, though," he said as he took a casual smile. "Given the chaos surrounding us, I'd almost be inclined to say this isn't the best night for this... though hiding will do us no good, and I fear we'll be wasting an opportunity we may not have any other time."

And his pride wouldn't let his sickness keep him down, not when there was the possibility of escape on the table. If the patients truly did have their abilities back, surely someone would find a way out. His eyes trailed to the pink glow of the walls again- just what was it, and how far did it extend?

She frowned a little at his explanation, as though unconvinced -- or, more truthfully, that he mistook what she meant. It wasn't his pallor or the sweat on his brow that captured her attention, nor was it what held it now. Once again, she realized, he was dodging what she meant... if he even knew what she meant in the first place.

The girl wanted the real truth, but she restrained herself from pushing more. For how many bodies already decorated the hallway, pools of blood and gristle spreading across the floor, it seemed obvious that eventually there would be another wave of fighting. Between Edgar looking ill, and how quickly using magic had exhausted her the night before, it was better not to take chances somewhere so clearly dangerous.

"We should get moving," she murmured, turning her head. There were a few different paths from here, only a few of which she'd traversed. There were two halls going back, leading to the halls to the various bedrooms and a outdoor field beyond that; the two stairwells leading up, that she'd taken the night before; and the long final hall, that led to the Sun Room, further down, the Medical Wing.

With only a moment more to consider, the girl stepped away from Edgar and began walking.

[to here]

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