[Mess Hall - night]
*Despite Sanji's valiant efforts, the interior of the Mess Hall remains splattered with gore, blood, and in some places, cheesecake. The kitchens in particular have seen better days -- that counter top needs some urgent bleaching. And that stove ... clearly words must be had with certain superheroes.
Even the cold storage room and the walk-in meat locker haven't been left unscathed. Really, has no one talked to the campers about the unsanitary effects of pools of blood? Not to mention corpses, wtf Russel. If you don't get yourself buried I'm gonna conduct Frankenstein-esque experiments with you. It's not at all the sort of thing one wants to come home to after being held captive to a musical review.
And now this. Since dusk, crows, ravens and blackbirds have been amassing in and on the Mess Hall. The entire building is covered with them. They're gathered in silence, watching, preening but not making a sound --
Someone inside opens a door. And on that signal, the entire flock of birds stream into the air with a sound akin to helicopter blades. From one big black mass to nothing, in minutes flat. A few feathers drift downwards in their wake but for the most part, it was like they were never there at all.
Much like the destruction left at the Mess Hall. To say that everywhere the birds were has been restored would be understatement -- you've never seen a Mess Hall gleam this brightly or shine so hygienically. Needless to say the broken furniture and appliances are better than new.
Only one thing remains to be done. A familiar slight figure exits the Mess Hall, to pin a notice on the door. As he does, a black cat winds itself around his ankles and is picked up. The word 'breakfast' is mentioned, and the two of them return to the kitchen. As the sun slowly rises, the only remnants on the night's events is the notice pinned to the door:*
Notice: Today's breakfast will be served at 6:00 AM.
We apologise for the inconvenience.
Even the cold storage room and the walk-in meat locker haven't been left unscathed. Really, has no one talked to the campers about the unsanitary effects of pools of blood? Not to mention corpses, wtf Russel. If you don't get yourself buried I'm gonna conduct Frankenstein-esque experiments with you. It's not at all the sort of thing one wants to come home to after being held captive to a musical review.
And now this. Since dusk, crows, ravens and blackbirds have been amassing in and on the Mess Hall. The entire building is covered with them. They're gathered in silence, watching, preening but not making a sound --
Someone inside opens a door. And on that signal, the entire flock of birds stream into the air with a sound akin to helicopter blades. From one big black mass to nothing, in minutes flat. A few feathers drift downwards in their wake but for the most part, it was like they were never there at all.
Much like the destruction left at the Mess Hall. To say that everywhere the birds were has been restored would be understatement -- you've never seen a Mess Hall gleam this brightly or shine so hygienically. Needless to say the broken furniture and appliances are better than new.
Only one thing remains to be done. A familiar slight figure exits the Mess Hall, to pin a notice on the door. As he does, a black cat winds itself around his ankles and is picked up. The word 'breakfast' is mentioned, and the two of them return to the kitchen. As the sun slowly rises, the only remnants on the night's events is the notice pinned to the door:*
Notice: Today's breakfast will be served at 6:00 AM.
We apologise for the inconvenience.