piper90npcs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
piper90npcs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
goneawayworld2020-09-13 09:18 pm
piper90npcs) wrote in goneawayworld2020-09-13 09:18 pm
Gemba Kaizen
Who: Adora, NPCs, anyone she calls in
What: Just a bit of a walk
Where: The corridors of the Rig
When: After TDM #2 and Teen Party
Warnings/Notes: Blood, aggravated mayhem, murder, gore
It's late. Most of the Rig is cooling down after a sizzling hot day, grateful for the cooler night and the end of the work day. Dinner's come and gone and, by all rights, everyone should be heading to bed. Which is probably why the hallways are so empty. The New Hires, especially, no doubt feel the need for more rest after that nightmare with the acid bugs, whatever had been up with those.
At least that nightmare is over.
Passing through the halls, there's a repeated opening and closing noise. Rounding a corner, a door-funny. It's one of the ones that's usually locked. None of the New Hires, at least, has the authority to open it. Whether or not it had been done sneakily before is up in the air, but it's usually been locked, with a solid red light displaying that status. Now the display next to it is blinking on and off, yellow, and the culprit for the blockage seems to be just that. A small block of wood.
The light inside flickers on and off, a fluorescent bulb malfunctioning. And any glimpses into the hallway behind it when it opens shows just that, a light fixture that's fallen out of the wall. Another mark of Jorgmund's excellent maintenance quality.
Then again, if it weren't for that flickering light, it might be easy to miss that dark, red puddle on the floor. Or the pale hand lying in the middle of it, the arm obscured by the corner of the turn the hall takes.
What: Just a bit of a walk
Where: The corridors of the Rig
When: After TDM #2 and Teen Party
Warnings/Notes: Blood, aggravated mayhem, murder, gore
It's late. Most of the Rig is cooling down after a sizzling hot day, grateful for the cooler night and the end of the work day. Dinner's come and gone and, by all rights, everyone should be heading to bed. Which is probably why the hallways are so empty. The New Hires, especially, no doubt feel the need for more rest after that nightmare with the acid bugs, whatever had been up with those.
At least that nightmare is over.
Passing through the halls, there's a repeated opening and closing noise. Rounding a corner, a door-funny. It's one of the ones that's usually locked. None of the New Hires, at least, has the authority to open it. Whether or not it had been done sneakily before is up in the air, but it's usually been locked, with a solid red light displaying that status. Now the display next to it is blinking on and off, yellow, and the culprit for the blockage seems to be just that. A small block of wood.
The light inside flickers on and off, a fluorescent bulb malfunctioning. And any glimpses into the hallway behind it when it opens shows just that, a light fixture that's fallen out of the wall. Another mark of Jorgmund's excellent maintenance quality.
Then again, if it weren't for that flickering light, it might be easy to miss that dark, red puddle on the floor. Or the pale hand lying in the middle of it, the arm obscured by the corner of the turn the hall takes.
no subject
She slows, frowns, and then detours, creeping up and peering inside. For a moment, it just looks like any other dumb corridor. At least until she sees the blood. Her eyes widen and she shoves the door open and starts down the corridor.
"Hey - are you OK?"
She's moving faster now.
no subject
No dice.
Rounding the corner-the hall is long, at least two hundred feet, with multiple doors. The walls are covered with the signs of a fight. Dents. Cracks. Slashes-the glimmer of a blade broken off sticking out of one. Underneath a patch of shattered ceiling tiles, the remnants of a shattered communicator spark.
A trail of blood streaks along the ground, leading from a closed door, terminating in the pool where Tenten lies. On the wall above her is a crimson arrow, something scribbled desperately, sloppily, underneath it in Japanese, ending in a smear.
Tenten herself... has seen better days. Her face is bruised, swollen, torn, almost unrecognizable. That is, what's left of it. Straight down the middle, the right side of her face is simply gone. The lack of skin continues down her chest, her arm, ending at her waist, with torn scraps draped over the waistline of her jumpsuit. On her left side, a laceration in her side pulses blood weakly.
She looks up at Adora, spits weakly to clear her lips of the frothy bubbles coating them, and slaps at the message on the wall, lips working to say something she can't quite work out. She points at the door at the far side of the hall.
Almost as if on cue, gunshots ring out and a man's choked scream is cut off.
no subject
"What happened? Who did this?"
She doesn't know if Tenten can answer her, though. There's that point - and then the sound of a shot and a scream. Adora doesn't want to leave Tenten, but she doesn't have a choice. No weapon, either, but that's never stopped her. She stands.
"I'll be right back-"
She heads for the door, moving faster, accelerating to a run. She's going to just bash her way in there because what else is there to do?
no subject
The door gives way fairly easily. Even without being She-Ra, Adora at full speed isn't exactly a marshmallow flying from a slingshot. There's motion-a door closing just as she enters, and a solid click as it locks.
The room-it's an employee lounge. Two worn couches, a recliner, a coffee table with some outdated magazines, a TV screen mounted on the wall, a water cooler, and a pair of snack machines. Slumped against the water cooler is a man, a security guard, his gun still held in his hand. His chest has a hole in it and, sitting in his lap, is a heart that gives one, two, three more pulses before lying still.
Three candles rest on top of the water cooler. Two are flickering, nearly out, and one wick is extinguished, still smoking. Across from it, the TV lets out a bit of fanfare as it switches to the evening movie, something from 20th Century Fox. Underneath it is a small figure dangling from the same mount holding the screen up. A plastic bag is over their head, fogged up, but how many people does Adora know with long, purple hair?
Scratch that. How many New Hires does Adora know with purple hair?
Wrapped around her neck is a bloody strap, leading down her back, threaded through her wrists. Her ankles have been merely tied, but the knots are designed to make the loop around Setsuna's neck tighter the more she struggles. There's a steady flow of crimson coming from somewhere in her back, but all of this is fresh.
Speaking of Tenten, a close examination of the material binding Setsuna explains where at least part of her missing skin went.
no subject
That's what she's good at, right? It's what she's supposed to do. It's all she's good for.
"Setsuna! Hold on-!"
She keys her communicator and all she can do is yell, "Get down here! Anybody!"
Not that it tells people where she is.
no subject
"This is Saturday, responding, location and status?" Her adrenaline is already spiking, slowing and narrowing her focus. She welcomes it, as she always does. What's the alternative, after all - more brooding?
no subject
She's still tearing at the bag, trying to get it open, fingers fumbling at knots. She has to save her. She has to. Nothing else will do.
no subject
"Which end of the rig?"
no subject
She can't talk right now. She's tearing the bag open finally and going to work on the bindings. She needs to get her untied. There's blood, there's stress, and she needs to keep it together.
"West side!"
no subject
Adora's got that strain in her voice that Saturday recognizes; she's heard it in her own enough times. Keep it together, because if you don't, the whole damn thing falls apart. Be the strong one, because people are depending on you.
"If they're conscious, keep them calm. And keep them still if there's broken bones or head injuries."
no subject
She's getting Setsuna untied now. She's close to having this finished. To making sure this is over with. She just needs a little more time. A little bit of an edge.
"Hurry - I don't have a medkit or anything!"
no subject
"Doc's en route. I'm almost there. Just keep the blood inside them and the air going in and out. You got this. Do you know CPR?"
She's taken a wrong turn somewhere; she's facing south now, not west, she can tell by the direction of the pipes in the ceiling. Motherfuck, she doesn't tell Adora, and re-routes. She can almost sense Adora now, at the edges of her magic sonar range. They're not far apart in absolute terms - just the rig doesn't make any damn sense and she's almost sure the walls shift sometimes.
"I'm coming," she says again, voice full of certainty she doesn't feel. "It's gonna be okay."
no subject
"I can't be in two places at once!"
Which is incredibly frustrating right about now.
no subject
Saturday puts steel in her voice, hoping the commanding tone will cut through and seize Adora by the training. And commanding herself as well; she can feel the old yoke settling on her shoulders, the why didn't I see it coming? - as if there would be any way she could.
She's almost there. Another couple turns, she thinks.
no subject
She thinks she might hear her, though. And she's soldifying now. Controlling what she can. Doing her best. There's not other alternative, after all. There's blood all over her hands, staining her jumpsuit, as she tries to keep the pressure on.
"I don't know if whoever did this is out there. Be careful."
no subject
There's something still in the wound. Whoever did this, they broke the blade off inside of the poor girl.
no subject
"I'm here!" she shouts. "I got Tenten - shit," she mutters, taking in the extent of the damage. "Fuck. Guts, get the doc down here now!" she shouts into her communicator. Then she rips the sleeves off her latest jumpsuit and starts trying to stop what bleeding she can.
"Help's coming, Tenten," she says, because maybe the girl can hear. "Just hold on a bit longer."
no subject
"Saturday--!" She takes in the bloody scene and panic begins to seep into her voice.
"Where's Adora?!" Sorry Tenten. Catra has exactly one priority right now.
no subject
no subject
She knows that they're both important to her, too. So she claws away one sleeve and drops down to one knee to try and help Saturday staunch the flow of blood from Tenten's injuries instead, her ears flat against her skull.
"Don't die, idiot," she mutters.
no subject
"There's something in Setsuna's wound-" She calls out.
And then a moment later, "I'm OK, Catra!"
no subject
She keeps pressure on. Tenten is pale, her breathing shallow. Saturday doesn't need to check to know her pulse is fluttering, getting slower.
"Make sure its the doc who pulls it out!" she calls again, almost as an afterthought. "Might be good evidence. Jorg'll toss or hide it."
no subject
"If you're hurt, I'll kill you!" Catra yells back between grit teeth.
no subject
"Just - focus on Tenten right now, OK?"
no subject
"Where the hell do you keep all this blood?"
no subject