Post by Quentin Smith on Aug 22, 2021 19:59:42 GMT -6
Quentin had a plan.
The plan in question was simple enough, really: go to the creepy-ass hospital, find some medical supplies, and get the fuck out (ideally without being caught and murdered). It wouldn’t be his first supply run by a longshot, but the denizen of the aforementioned hospital wasn’t one that they had any desire to run into. Easy, right? Not like said denizen was capable of releasing a static blast that immediately drew out a scream from anyone caught in its radius or anything.
Correction: Quentin had a shitty plan.
They couldn’t turn back now though, being about dozen steps away from the building with a promise to bring something back for a dwindling supply, so they trudged on through the snowy bank leading up to the dilapidated and destitute hospital. Trials here had never been his favorite--he had a solid losing streak in this realm in particular. Something about it kept them on edge.
Getting in was easy enough with the doors held wide open, and Quentin soon found himself standing in front of what must have once been a receptionist’s desk. The hospital was more or less the same as the one he was used to seeing in trials, though there were occasional inconsistencies throughout from what he could see. A few odd items were strewn here and there that they couldn’t remember seeing before for one, and they were sure there would be more as they went further into the belly of the beast.
Using the mental map he’d compiled, Quentin soon found an open room with a few hospital beds and some cabinets alongside a nurse’s cart with closed drawers. It was lucky he came across this so early assuming the cabinets were filled. Some supply runs could take what felt like hours, only leaving them more vulnerable as they focused on trying to find shit instead of keeping themself hidden. Taking a quick look behind him, Quentin stepped over to the cart and began his search.
Old syringes were piled in the top drawer, though there didn’t seem to be any vials of precious medicine accompanying them. Even then, Quentin wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he quickly unlatched the empty medkit and carefully placed the syringes off to one corner as to leave room for whatever else he may find. The drawer beneath it didn’t hold the vials as they had hoped, but there were rolls of bandages and medical tape which they would never pass up.
The room held more supplies than he could have hoped for, possibly even enough for him to leave as soon as he finished up with the remaining cabinets. All in all, things had been going much better than they ever did for them.
That was the first sign that things were going to go very, very wrong.
Quentin was satisfied with their haul, a number of supplies settled off to their side for later organization in their medkit. The momentary elation he felt about getting it easy for once in his life was quickly cut short as a particularly strong gust of wind came through a nearby window and shut a cabinet door that he had neglected to close with a sharp SLAM!
“Fuck,” Quentin mumbled to himself, shoving all his gathered supplies in the cabinet he’d been searching and closing it as quietly as possible. They couldn’t run, that was for sure. The Doctor knew his realm much better than Quentin ever could, and they weren’t betting on their speed to make it out. Hiding wasn’t much of an option either, but it wasn’t like they had any other options.
Shortly after the sound, there began a faint buzzing in the air. Muddled electricity danced along Quentin’s skin, raising the hair along their arms and covering them in goosebumps. The buzz slowly grew in intensity, a feeling he had never gotten used to. No matter how many shocks that had been administered to them over the course of their trials with the Doctor, the feeling always left them shaking.
Quentin shook off the uncomfortable feeling on his skin, reminding himself that he didn’t have time to spare. The killer was getting closer, and there weren’t many places to hide in this goddamn room. Quentin crouched behind a hospital cot, holding their breath in a desperate hope that the Doctor would walk right past the room they were in and continue on his merry way.
It’s not like he has any reason to come in here, right? Not a trial. Probably’ll think s’just a rat.
Or maybe he was just telling himself that.
The plan in question was simple enough, really: go to the creepy-ass hospital, find some medical supplies, and get the fuck out (ideally without being caught and murdered). It wouldn’t be his first supply run by a longshot, but the denizen of the aforementioned hospital wasn’t one that they had any desire to run into. Easy, right? Not like said denizen was capable of releasing a static blast that immediately drew out a scream from anyone caught in its radius or anything.
Correction: Quentin had a shitty plan.
They couldn’t turn back now though, being about dozen steps away from the building with a promise to bring something back for a dwindling supply, so they trudged on through the snowy bank leading up to the dilapidated and destitute hospital. Trials here had never been his favorite--he had a solid losing streak in this realm in particular. Something about it kept them on edge.
Getting in was easy enough with the doors held wide open, and Quentin soon found himself standing in front of what must have once been a receptionist’s desk. The hospital was more or less the same as the one he was used to seeing in trials, though there were occasional inconsistencies throughout from what he could see. A few odd items were strewn here and there that they couldn’t remember seeing before for one, and they were sure there would be more as they went further into the belly of the beast.
Using the mental map he’d compiled, Quentin soon found an open room with a few hospital beds and some cabinets alongside a nurse’s cart with closed drawers. It was lucky he came across this so early assuming the cabinets were filled. Some supply runs could take what felt like hours, only leaving them more vulnerable as they focused on trying to find shit instead of keeping themself hidden. Taking a quick look behind him, Quentin stepped over to the cart and began his search.
Old syringes were piled in the top drawer, though there didn’t seem to be any vials of precious medicine accompanying them. Even then, Quentin wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he quickly unlatched the empty medkit and carefully placed the syringes off to one corner as to leave room for whatever else he may find. The drawer beneath it didn’t hold the vials as they had hoped, but there were rolls of bandages and medical tape which they would never pass up.
The room held more supplies than he could have hoped for, possibly even enough for him to leave as soon as he finished up with the remaining cabinets. All in all, things had been going much better than they ever did for them.
That was the first sign that things were going to go very, very wrong.
Quentin was satisfied with their haul, a number of supplies settled off to their side for later organization in their medkit. The momentary elation he felt about getting it easy for once in his life was quickly cut short as a particularly strong gust of wind came through a nearby window and shut a cabinet door that he had neglected to close with a sharp SLAM!
“Fuck,” Quentin mumbled to himself, shoving all his gathered supplies in the cabinet he’d been searching and closing it as quietly as possible. They couldn’t run, that was for sure. The Doctor knew his realm much better than Quentin ever could, and they weren’t betting on their speed to make it out. Hiding wasn’t much of an option either, but it wasn’t like they had any other options.
Shortly after the sound, there began a faint buzzing in the air. Muddled electricity danced along Quentin’s skin, raising the hair along their arms and covering them in goosebumps. The buzz slowly grew in intensity, a feeling he had never gotten used to. No matter how many shocks that had been administered to them over the course of their trials with the Doctor, the feeling always left them shaking.
Quentin shook off the uncomfortable feeling on his skin, reminding himself that he didn’t have time to spare. The killer was getting closer, and there weren’t many places to hide in this goddamn room. Quentin crouched behind a hospital cot, holding their breath in a desperate hope that the Doctor would walk right past the room they were in and continue on his merry way.
It’s not like he has any reason to come in here, right? Not a trial. Probably’ll think s’just a rat.
Or maybe he was just telling himself that.
