Night 59: Stairwell by Waiting Room/Lobby 1

[bastard_sadi]

[Coming from here.]Daemon slipped from the hallway and into the stairwell, starting the climb to the second floor. His gaze searched the shadows and he'd made no more than three steps up when he went carefully still, holding up a hand to halt Renji as well. The chittering came from above their heads, quiet but definitely there, the sound familiar

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[toxicspiderman]

[from here]Doing the intro briefing was easier while walking. Trying to explain all this crap with a straight face was harder than it sounded

hey whats goin on

[wantsyourzex]

[from here]

All the strange antics around him made ZEX feel a little slighted. Some of the other people here apparently were given amazing abilities that made them able to destroy their enemies with ease... and ZEX was still stuck in this relatively fragile human body. Why couldn't they have at least given him back his natural one? Not that he didn't appreciate the gift of his pistol, but still, it seemed somewhat unbalanced.

Either way, it made finding people to use as shields all that much more important. With this kind of chaos, it'd be best to keep a low profile, preferably behind someone else. Those two humans looked like they might be useful...

"Am I interrupting anything?" ZEX said from a short distance away, hoping he wasn't going to startle them into some unforeseen pyrotechnic display. Who knew what humans were capable of now? What he'd seen walking around was making him rethink the species a little. Beautiful... and dangerous. A perfect combination. "I don't suppose either of you know what's going on currently, do you?"

nm, nm

[meanandgreen]

"Do I look like Clark Kent to you?" Raph barked up at the guy. Sure, he's had his fill of superpowers, dealing with the Justice Force and whatever other wackbag with too much juice got thrown his way. In his mind, superpowers always seemed to come in the six-foot-tall, sickeningly good-looking variety. The closest thing to superpowers he'd ever had was walking on two legs and talking. That was about as impressive as an average human three-year-old.

But he'd noticed the freakshow going down in this Pepto-Bismol circus they called an "Institute". Mikey woulda been in his glory. Raph wasn't all that impressed.

"Hey!" He shouted for no reason but to get his point across. "If this's some kind of superhero geek convention, you got the wrong tur--" Crap. "Guy. You got the wrong guy

[toxicspiderman]

S.T. didn't miss Raph correcting himself. What the word he'd replaced as easily as Landel/Aguilar's crack body shop had replaced his body was, he didn't catch. That explained a lot.

"Cool your jets, dude. How the--" fuck am I supposed to keep up with every comic in the past fifty years, he was going to say, and follow it up with bitching about the future. Bitching about the future was one of his favorite pastimes. Some people might think he got enough of doing that professionally, but the doom-and-gloom schtick was strictly on-camera. If he had really thought it was hopeless, he'd have let some place like Biotronics buy him off for a few years with Coke and stock options, cash out before he got cancer, and retire before he hit 40

[wantsyourzex]

He had interrupted something, as far as he could tell, but it was hard to say for sure. Human social mores were still mostly beyond him. Who could say what any of this meant? He could read the glares coming his way from one of them easily enough though. A shame, that human looked particularly interesting

[meanandgreen]

ZEX's scratching brought Raph's attention to the shaved patch of hair on the man's scalp, staring unabashedly at the healing scar. He's seen scars like that before, too precise for a battle wound. No, that was surgical. The thought made him bristle, a low growl in the back of his throat.

"Whatever," Raph snapped at ZEX's offer. The guy was a pale little stick of a man, looked even worse than the cripple he'd attached himself to. So who the hell cares. He was already getting slowed down. And if they ran into trouble, he wasn't gonna make it his job to babysit these clowns. If they couldn't defend themselves, that was their problem, not his.

At least that's what he told himself. In all truth, he really wasn't that cold-hearted.

He turned back to S.T., a feral eagerness burning in his eyes. "Can we go now?" He asked, grinding each syllable through his teeth. "Please?"

They couldn't afford to lose any more time.

[toxicspiderman]

"Sure." S.T. jogged up the stairs, ignoring his bad knee. It was probably going to be a while before any of the doors unlocked. S.T. didn't like sitting around feeling useless while people were getting tortured, so he hadn't been in a hurry. Raph was. It made him feel a bit guilty, even though nothing would blow a door that didn't want to be blown here. Doors were either speed bumps or mile-thick concrete compressed into a couple of inches. Either you spent a night hammering on one or you learned to believe the people who had. S.T. went with the latter. Especially since every time he'd tried to cook up some explosives, the night ended. Did it know? Did it matter?

The top of the stairs was the biggest ambush risk, but S.T. shoved open the door and strolled out. "Looks clear," he called back to the other two.

[to here]