NIGHT 59: M21-M30 HALLWAY

[bastard_sadi]

Emergency. Emergency. Initiate CODE RED. Initiate CODE RED.

The blaring alarm had Daemon jolting to his feet, journal dropped forgotten to the bed and staff grabbed instinctively from beside him as wide golden eyes darted around the darkened room, braced for an attack. It hit him a moment later, a wave of something, so malevolent that for a

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[toxicspiderman]

I.R.I.S. came on, computerized sex appeal and GQ alarm all in one. Generalissimo Birdbrain had already put out the the all-hands for the staff, so this was for their benefit. Song and dance and fancy red lights.

It was going to be a while before the torture chambers went ding, so S.T. took advantage of the light and finished bottling prison hooch, batch 2. He ignored the dulcet howling. Benefit of too much MTV and way too much Bart. It was just background noise. The case of bottles went back in the closet, and out came the gear. Jeans, toolkit, spray cleaner in its belt holster, and pipe.

Radio, too. If there was ever a night made for idle chatter, this was it. Along with whatever the fuck else they'd unleashed along with the disco lights.

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