Post by Quentin Smith on Feb 11, 2021 2:04:13 GMT -6
Quentin had a plan.
The plan in question was simple enough, really: go to the creepy-ass asylum, find some medical supplies, and get the fuck out (ideally without being caught and brutally murdered). It wouldn’t be his first supply run by a longshot, and the denizen of the aforementioned asylum seemed less sadistic than some of the others he had run across in his time here. Quentin wasn’t taking the freaky clown that hung around the outskirts of the asylum into consideration since he had every intention to not run into him, so it just left the teleporting nurse with a bone saw who could kill him in two seconds.
Correction: Quentin had a shitty plan.
He couldn’t turn back now though, being three-quarters of the way to the realm already with a promise to bring something back for their dwindling supply, so he trudged on through the snowy bank of Ormond with his sights set on the smoldering structure just outside of the boundary between the two realms. He was already counting his blessings after finding out he only needed to cross one realm to reach his destination and one that wasn’t difficult to transverse without being seen at that. Even if he was caught, it would be by one of the Legion members. They could definitely be brutal in their own way, but he would much rather be caught by one of them than some of the other killers.
Reaching the border didn’t take very long, and soon Quentin was stepping off of the snow and onto the grassy fields, the asylum towering over him. The carnival was on the opposite side of the realm as him, which he was thankful for. It would be much easier to get in and get out if he didn’t need to take some odd path to avoid the killer. Now all he needed to worry about was getting inside the asylum and not having the nurse find him during his search.
Getting in was easy enough--save for a few obstructions along the way--and Quentin soon found himself standing in front of what must have once been a receptionist’s desk. The asylum was more or less the same as the one he was used to seeing in trials, though there were those occasional inconsistencies throughout from what he could see. A few odd items were strewn here and there that he couldn’t remember seeing before, as well as some structural differences.
The coast seemed to be clear, at least for the moment--wheezing breaths and shrill cries were absent from the asylum for now. Quentin took a breath, the smoky air uncomfortable in his lungs. It reminded him of being around Freddy--the bastard never could seem to shake the scent of fire. Shaking the thoughts of his tormenter with a shrug of his shoulders, he took off to the right, past smoldering wooden planks and nurses carts. The carts were empty, all the drawers open and bare. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
After a short walk, Quentin found an open room with a hospital bed and some cabinets, alongside another nurse’s cart with closed drawers. It was lucky he came across this so early, assuming the cabinets were filled. Taking a nervous 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 he had hoped, but there were rolls of bandages and medical tape which he would never pass up. It was as he was filling the medkit with the newly discovered supplies that he heard the heavy, gasping breaths grow closer to him.
“Fuck,” Quentin mumbled to himself, shutting the medkit as quietly as he could and setting it out of sight.
Where the hell can I hide?
There weren’t many good spots--the bed was closer to a gurney than anything substantial, and all the other places were behind objects too small to conceal him while standing. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and the breaths were only getting louder, so he swiftly made his way behind a counter. His best bet was to crouch down and try his best to stay hidden until the nurse hopefully passed by without entering the small room.
The plan in question was simple enough, really: go to the creepy-ass asylum, find some medical supplies, and get the fuck out (ideally without being caught and brutally murdered). It wouldn’t be his first supply run by a longshot, and the denizen of the aforementioned asylum seemed less sadistic than some of the others he had run across in his time here. Quentin wasn’t taking the freaky clown that hung around the outskirts of the asylum into consideration since he had every intention to not run into him, so it just left the teleporting nurse with a bone saw who could kill him in two seconds.
Correction: Quentin had a shitty plan.
He couldn’t turn back now though, being three-quarters of the way to the realm already with a promise to bring something back for their dwindling supply, so he trudged on through the snowy bank of Ormond with his sights set on the smoldering structure just outside of the boundary between the two realms. He was already counting his blessings after finding out he only needed to cross one realm to reach his destination and one that wasn’t difficult to transverse without being seen at that. Even if he was caught, it would be by one of the Legion members. They could definitely be brutal in their own way, but he would much rather be caught by one of them than some of the other killers.
Reaching the border didn’t take very long, and soon Quentin was stepping off of the snow and onto the grassy fields, the asylum towering over him. The carnival was on the opposite side of the realm as him, which he was thankful for. It would be much easier to get in and get out if he didn’t need to take some odd path to avoid the killer. Now all he needed to worry about was getting inside the asylum and not having the nurse find him during his search.
Getting in was easy enough--save for a few obstructions along the way--and Quentin soon found himself standing in front of what must have once been a receptionist’s desk. The asylum was more or less the same as the one he was used to seeing in trials, though there were those occasional inconsistencies throughout from what he could see. A few odd items were strewn here and there that he couldn’t remember seeing before, as well as some structural differences.
The coast seemed to be clear, at least for the moment--wheezing breaths and shrill cries were absent from the asylum for now. Quentin took a breath, the smoky air uncomfortable in his lungs. It reminded him of being around Freddy--the bastard never could seem to shake the scent of fire. Shaking the thoughts of his tormenter with a shrug of his shoulders, he took off to the right, past smoldering wooden planks and nurses carts. The carts were empty, all the drawers open and bare. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.
After a short walk, Quentin found an open room with a hospital bed and some cabinets, alongside another nurse’s cart with closed drawers. It was lucky he came across this so early, assuming the cabinets were filled. Taking a nervous 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 he had hoped, but there were rolls of bandages and medical tape which he would never pass up. It was as he was filling the medkit with the newly discovered supplies that he heard the heavy, gasping breaths grow closer to him.
“Fuck,” Quentin mumbled to himself, shutting the medkit as quietly as he could and setting it out of sight.
Where the hell can I hide?
There weren’t many good spots--the bed was closer to a gurney than anything substantial, and all the other places were behind objects too small to conceal him while standing. Beggars couldn’t be choosers though, and the breaths were only getting louder, so he swiftly made his way behind a counter. His best bet was to crouch down and try his best to stay hidden until the nurse hopefully passed by without entering the small room.