Episode 2: Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News; or, Two Particles, Passing in the Night
Rory could admit when she'd made a mistake. Not calling for the others, for example, had been a mistake, especially after she had specifically asked them to do the same. To say they were distressed was putting it mildly.
Especially considering the number of ambulances that had crowed out through the night.
Still, better than gun shots.
"Are you experiencing any sort of residual weakness?" Mallory's gaze seemed to focus intently off into one corner, which Rory had to guess was the corner occupied by Narma's camera feed in her version of the Skype call.
"No," Narma answered shortly.
"Headaches? Drowsiness?"
"No."
Rory wasn't upset by the amount of attention diverted to Narma. Even if she'd been the one to take physical damage, Narma had been the one zapped by the strange new power of the creature she'd been referring to as "Spindly Legs."
Celene's tail whipped anxiously against the covers beside her, and she smoothed a hand down her back. Not being there for battles, it seemed, was still going to be a point of contention for the cat. Rory was just disheartened there were going to be more battles at all.
"I feel fine," Narma shrugged. "Whatever that thing was trying to do, it didn't do it to me."
Carmen was silent, distracted if the way her eyes kept straying from the camera meant anything.
Mallory clicked the mini-led flashlight in her hand on and off in her own feed. Maybe she'd grabbed it on instinct or something, but she had kept ahold of it even after she had realized it wouldn't work through a camera. "I'm concerned there might be some kind of delayed effect. That was a lot of civilians."
"Yeah." Rory bit her lip. "And we still don't know what happened to those guys,"
"And it just vanished?" Carmen tugged at the collar of her shirt.
Rory thought back to what she had actually seen dangling from the side of Aurora Bridge. The thing sparking, skuttling along the underside of the road, and then…"It was almost like…you know when you cut off a TV and everything just kind of…zooms into the middle?"
Mallory rubbed her chin. "What, like it collapsed in on itself?"
"Sort of. Light-wise."
"That's something else," Carmen spoke up. "You said you think that creature was absorbing energy, right? I was thinking that would explain what caused the power to cut out. But the lights came back on."
Narma's eyes widened. She smacked a fist against her palm. "So it didn't absorb them."
"A power surge, rather than an actual blackout." Mallory nodded slowly. "Something was using a lot of power. Why use power just to suck it back up?"
Celene stood. "Could we track that?"
Mallory smiled wryly. "We do not have the technology, sorry. Unless you have some connections with the power company, that is. I'm not even allowed within a hundred feet of that place after last time…" she trailed off.
Rory exchanged a look with the others. Um.
The blue-haired menace to society flipped a hand up. "And I'm not even sure they could do it."
Narma spoke up. "What's the harmony-dar say about all this?"
Carmen looked up, blinking. "Oh, uh. No, something's definitely been displaced. I really doubt this was a one-time incident. Sorry; that's about as specific as I can get with it."
Mallory set the flashlight in her lap. She was staring straight into the camera, but there was no question who she was speaking to. "You should have called us."
"We know, already," Narma huffed, crossing her arms. "We didn't exactly anticipate coming across anything on the Avenue except maybe some prostitutes."
"And they've mostly cleared those guys out," Rory threw in.
"Before anything else," Celene frowned at her, "we need to focus on identifying what that creature was. Why does it need the energy? What danger does it pose? We must be at maximum vigilance."
"You are speaking my language. Anybody sees anything—" Mallory glared into the screen for a moment. "—put out the all-alert."
Everyone mumbled an affirmative.
"Oh!" Narma pointed to the screen. "Celene, I meant to ask. When we transformed this time, we looked different."
Carmen and Mallory perked up. "Really?"
"Yeah," Rory said. She looked down to their guide. "The uniforms were like…a little fancier? With more stripes."
Celene raised a paw to her mouth. "Hm. Did you speak the summance any differently?"
Rory rocked back, clutching her feet. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
Celene lifted her head. Girl did like to school them whenever she got the chance, no doubt about it. Rory didn't mind. She knew Celene wished she could be of more help at other times. "That would explain it. Certain summons are used to signify different levels of capability. Your trials with the refugees of Ambrosia must have been enough experience for your power's maximum threshold to increase. Don't be surprised if other changes arise as you re-engage your powers."
"So…we leveled up?" Mallory raised a brow, leaning into the camera.
The flick of Celene's tail paused. "…in a crude sense, yes."
"Nice."
"We used our planet names in the summance," Rory clarified, "if you guys want to try it out."
"Smart," Celene nodded her little furry chin. "Honestly, I'm a little surprised your previous summance even worked, given the lack of a True Name. I suppose we should be grateful that the star seed's power is so intuitive."
Armed with their new information, they disconnected. Frowning, Rory picked up the conversation she'd been having with Narma prior to the call. She still was not convinced.
you should have gone to the hospital
no u
i'm fine, just bruised. you collapsed, girl.
no but really. reports online
are saying that most of the civilians
were taken to mercy west but the er
is being really dodgy about their conditions
you guys should check there,
see if you can get any info
That…actually wasn't a bad idea. But "you guys;" Rory stared down at her phone disapprovingly.
what about you? you actually got whammied!
i have some other things i need to take
care of. have fun without me. i'll
catch up later.
"What is it?" Celene's large eyes examined her expression, which must have been reflecting as conflicted as she felt. She still really thought that Narma should be getting checked out, but any information they could get now might be helpful.
"Some stuff," though? That was vague. Was there something Narma wasn't telling her?
"Guess it's time to do some reconnaissance work. You coming?"
Celene straightened. "Of course."
Rory sent out a text to the group. Guess it's time for a check-up.
Narma minimized her conversation with Rory, heart pounding as she stared at the notification that had just dropped into her inbox. She didn't dare to hope that the contents were as promising as the subject line: Interviews Today.
Ms. Narmada Anand,
We are pleased to inform you we were highly impressed with your recent application to the summer internship program with the Seattle Institute of Design. We would like to invite you for an interview at your earliest convenience at one of the following appointment times. If you choose to accept this opportunity, respond with your preferred time and you will receive an automated response confirming your interview time, or letting you know if the time is previously booked. We look forward to hearing from you. If you have an extended portfolio, we suggest you bring it to your appointment time. We look forward to meeting you.
Thank you for your interest,
Rebecca Greenwood
President of the Seattle Institute of Design
Holy crap holy crap.
Frantically, Narma scanned the documents open time slots, noting that the earliest were same day, beginning that afternoon. On instinct alone, she metaphorically leapt down to the first entry, typing in her name, misspelling it twice before hitting reply.
Only a couple of seconds passed before a email came back: Interview Appointment Confirmation.
Holy crap!
Only once the adrenaline had dissipated did it sink in that the time she had vied for was only three hours away.
Holy shit!
She scrambled off her bed, dashing for the bathroom where she promptly threw up, took a shower, and did her best to get ready for the interview she had scheduled with not a moment of preparation.
Why couldn't she have some more useful power? Like time travel?
She wondered how things were going with the others.
Mallory hadn't spent a ton of time in hospitals. She'd gone a few times as a child, when she'd gotten a bit too overzealous at games of make-believe and broken a limb or two. Even so, she was familiar enough with the atmosphere of a hospital to know that the skittishness permeating the building was not to the norm. She tucked her hands in her pockets, watching a couple of doctors whispering poorly in the corner. Yeah, nothing weird there.
Carmen, too, seemed uncomfortable.
Mallory eyed her. "What's up?
The girl rubbed at one arm. "Had a friend hospitalized a few weeks back for similar reasons. Just…bad memories." She paused. "It feels like this is happening all over again."
From one crisis to another, it seemed. Mallory frowned. "I'm sorry; I didn't know. Mm, thanks for being here anyways."
Carmen rolled back her shoulders, brows cross. "Of course. I wouldn't leave Narma to just wait this out, even if she wants to."
From behind her, Rory spoke up. "Man, they seem really spooked, don't they?"
"I don't like it," Mallory moved towards the reception. She leaned across the counter. "Hi, we're here from the Garfield Times; we have clearance for an interview with…" Her eyes flicked to the on-call chart on the back wall, searching for the administrator on duty, "Dean Eastley about the future plan for expansion on the trauma wing. They requested we come on back when we arrive."
The man at the counter narrowed his eyes. "You seem a little young."
"We're interns," Mallory straightened, keeping her face neutral. "This is a junior assignment."
The man still didn't seem convinced, adjusting his tie. "And all three of you need back there?"
Shit, that was excessive, think fast. She pretended to bristle. "Well," she said shortly, gesturing to Rory, "she is our is camera man and my girlfriend here," to Carmen, whose eyes blew wide, "is my secretary and is in charge of keeping notes to make sure we touch on everything we've been assigned to. Unless you've got some kind of problem with that? You some kind of homophobe?"
The man paled. "My apologizes, I hadn't meant to imply, I had no idea—"
Got 'em. She crossed her arms. "I'm sure your boss would love to hear we got this kind of treatment coming in here; Jesus, man, we're just trying to do our jobs."
The poor guy, who she really doubted was actually any sort of homophobe, sputtered, trying to get his bearings. "No, no, I really am sorry. Of course you can go back. Just…" He placed a hand on the counter, the room's hush creeping back in. A chill crept up Mallory's back, her prior humor dampened. He whispered, "Please be mindful of the intensive care wing. We're trying to limit any outside stimulus as much as possible, until we have a better grasp on the situation. You understand."
Mallory nodded, swallowing. "Of course. Thank you."
They turned and moved through the entrance.
Their leader saddled up beside her. "Dang, girl!" Rory clapped her on the shoulder. "You really made that guy sweat! How long you been at this sneaking-somewhere-you-ain't-supposed-to-be thing?"
Mallory scanned the rooms as they passed them. Waiting rooms, a nurse's station, single rooms with stressed out families huddled inside. It all seemed too generic. She said, "Longer than you could possibly imagine," which sounded acceptably dramatic. She glanced back to Carmen. "Sorry about the secretary thing, by the way."
Carmen looked frazzled, hair mussed by a nervous hand. Hm, no comment. "You're apologizing for calling me your secretary?"
"Guys!" Trust Rory to stay on target. "Look, a hospital directory. What floor is intensive care on?
Carmen shook her head, moving to look at the diagram. "It looks like it's on the floor above this."
Rory tapped her fist in her hand. "We should speak to as many sources as possible. Nurses, doctors. See if anyone got to speak to the police."
Carmen crossed her arms, drawing in on herself. "We need to know we kind of symptoms the bridge bystanders were having. If there were any…prolonged effects."
Mallory was sure they were all thinking the same thing: no one of them could be sure that their forth comrade had made it out of the woods. These were unknown adversaries, and it was too early to tell what the true impact of their leeching ability might be. This was critical intelligence. She nodded stiffly. "I agree. That should be of the utmost importance."
They took the stairwell, if only because it was closer. Just one floor, anyways. When they emerged onto the next level, it was deathly quiet. The doctors were sparse, the nurses flitting silently from one room to another with the utmost efficiency. The few manning the nurse's station eyed them with a level of distrust; Mallory couldn't blame them, or the man at the front desk for that matter. She was sure this place had been stupid with journalists for as many hours as the Aurora Bridge had been plastered on the news.
They collectively slowed when the corridor emerged into the floor's main venue: the intensive care unit. Mallory's stomach twisted. The room was an enormous space; she could see where privacy curtains had been hastily pushed to the side to make room.
There were dozens of people. Not in familial clusters the way the private rooms had been, but splayed limply beneath white sheets, tucked in like children whilst monitors beeped menacingly in the background. It was still as a morgue.
"Oh, no," Rory whispered, hand rising to her mouth. It didn't feel like enough. From what Mallory had been told, there had been injuries in the past, civilians who had gotten in the way of the pithos, but nothing to this scale. "Oh, this might be all of them. Everyone that was there."
"No one has recovered?" Carmen yelped, staring over the huge room of motionless people.
"Uh-hm."
They turned to see a middle-aged woman with deep bags under her eyes. Her badge read Marsha. She planted her hands on her hips. "Ladies, we are trying to keep the volume down so we don't disturb the patients."
But Carmen stepped forward. "I'm checking up on my aunt. Have there been any improvements? I hadn't been able to get in yet."
Mallory looked up at her (the girl really did tower over the rest of them,) feeling a sudden swell of pride. That was a smooth lie; good work Carmen. She watched as she flawlessly continued the conversion. It seemed Carmen had the nurse front. It might do them better to expand their investigation from there.
She steered Rory away, leaning in keep the volume low. "Looks like we are on doctor and cop duty. If the cops spoke to anyone about something this large, they would have spoken to the Dean of Medicine."
Rory's brows lifted. "So you do think we should try and talk to Eastley?"
Mallory shrugged. "Might as well try." She barely, just barely resisted saying we need them to take us to their leader. But then, she spied movement from over Rory's shoulder from within the medical ICU. With a shock, she thought for a moment someone was getting up.
But no, all the beds were still occupied. It seemed there was someone else there, checking up on one of the patients. A nurse moved into the space, but there was another girl wandering the room, blonde hair in a long braid. She wore the kind of outfit Narma might scoff at, given her own experience: an army jacket, light skinny jeans, a simple striped shirt beneath. Minimum effort. That would make sense, for someone in distress.
Also, the sunglasses tucked in her collar. Mallory frowned; couldn't have someone jacking her swagger (though she wasn't even wearing her shades at the moment, her reading glasses instead in her coat pocket.) Her gaze moved back to Rory, who seemed a bit put-off by her sudden silence. "There's someone else here," she said. Rory turned to confirm, and she continued. "I'm going to see what they've been told. Might eliminate the need to speak to multiple nurses; if someone's been here, they would have already asked."
"I'll take Dean Eastley duty, then." Rory nodded.
She turned back to the nurse's station, and Mallory caught a glimpse of Celene, patiently tucked inside Rory's undersized backpack. They couldn't exactly walk in with her. She subtly nodded to her.
"Sorry," Rory interrupted, "but do you know where I might find Dean Eastley?"
Carmen, catching on, added, "She wants to thank them for taking such good care of our families."
Dang, Carmen. Back at it again with the persuasive lies. Mallory's mouth twisted. If it were anyone else, she would almost wonder if she had something to worry about.
"Yeah!" Rory jumped in. "So many people got affected, and you guys are really stepping up."
The nurse blinked widely. "Oh? It's…I mean, we're just doing our best. That's very sweet, though. I believe she's up in the cardiothoracic wing on floor five." She pointed. "Elevators are around the corner and down the hall."
Rory saluted. "Got it. Thanks!"
Parting from them, she headed for the elevator.
Mallory turned her attention back to the MICU. Moving into the room, the noise of a number of monitors in the openness gave the sound a sort of insulated quality. Trying not to make it to obvious, she perused the room, subtly examining the other occupant.
Something seemed…odd. The girl moved through the room in much the same manner, though she gravitated back to the bed of an old woman periodically. Thing is, she didn't seem upset. No puffy eyes, no rumpled clothing, hair smooth and clean in its braid. One would think if a loved one were in this state one might have more of a reaction.
She watched the girl move to the window, where the dingy sunlight fell over her. Catching her eye, the girl straightened. "Sorry, I hope I'm not bothering you. Just trying to get my thoughts together." She gestured behind herself. "My friend Gina hasn't woken up yet."
She had a certain quality about her, a focus in her grey-blue eyes, but Mallory couldn't quite discern what it was. Mallory nodded. "Of course." She lowered her voice. "To be honest, I'm actually here investigating the attack."
The girl's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't appear bothered by the revelation. In fact, her body language—turning more in Mallory's direction, wider stance, staring her in the face—seemed to indicate she was more comfortable.
Still, no use taking chances. "We know that this is affecting a lot of people, and we want to make sure that this event is being given the attention it deserves. Have they been able to tell you anything?"
The girl narrowed her eyes. "No. There haven't been any changes since they originally brought everyone in from the bridge. Totally unconscious. Almost a coma-state."
Mallory leaned forward. "So this is everyone? No one from the bridge was not in this state?"
"No," the girl answered shortly, almost methodically. "Thirty-six people." She brought a hand to her chin. "The odd thing is, physically, they seem fine. No real injuries, except a little road rash here and there."
Mallory's brows hiked up her forehead. Well, that was a flippant way to be talking about it.
"But they have no idea what's keeping them asleep. Their brain waves are normal. Pulse, slightly slower than usual, which worries them. But no physical trauma."
"Worries them, you say." Mallory tilted her head, raising a finger. This was odd. "Aren't you worried?
The girl paused. Something about her tone, apprehensive and sharp: "Of course, I'm worried." She rolled her shoulders back. "What did you say your name was, again?"
"I didn't," Mallory shot back. The girl's gaze was analytical, and a little condescending; it had been a long time since Mallory had felt seen by someone with such intention. Well, besides the police, but that was an average Tuesday. She extended a hand, and the girl looked surprised. "My apologizes for my lack of professionalism. I'm Mallory."
The girl examined her hand as though it were rigged to explode. It…made her feel a little self-conscious, actually. She hesitated, and then shook it in a single downward swing. She smiled. It was impersonal. "Gwen."
The room was plunged into darkness.
Moments Earlier, in the Elevator…
Rory waited for the car to reach the fifth floor. She was surprised there weren't more people, with this being a busy hospital. Maybe people were too worried about the creature to be out and about? She had seen the news report, the fuzzy image of Spindly Legs hulking over the bridge from the street camera. She wouldn't want another round with that thing either.
Celene peeked her head out of the backpack. "This is humiliating," she fussed, shaking her head out. "We must find a better way to do this!"
Rory grinned at her. "You wanted to come, girl."
"As an advisor, not a…a stowaway!" She hissed.
She laughed. "Just keep an eye out," she said. "Just let me know what you see. Right now, any info is good info."
The elevator dinged, and she disembarked.
It didn't take long to locate the Dean. Out of all the people with badges, only one of them had a suit on. Rory made her way over as the woman finished apparently giving out orders as three orderlies flitted away from her.
"What's your plan?" Celene whispered from the backpack.
"I'm going with the story," Rory murmured.
She confirmed her suspicions as she neared: the badge read Dominique Eastley, Dean of Medicine. "Excuse me."
The woman turned to her. "Yes? How can I help you?"
"My grandma was one of the bridge victims," Sorry Gramma Beatty, lord protect her, "And I wanted to thank you guys for how you are handling this whole thing. It was a lot of people."
A flash of sympathy crossed the woman's face, her brows furrowing. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. No need to thank us, really. We're just trying to adapt to the situation the best we can. I can assure you, we'll let the public know as soon as we have any developments." It sounded a little rehearsed. She must have been fielding people all night.
Rory waved a hand. Really, she should probably look sadder. Huh-hm, get into character, Rory. "I get it. There's no time." Time to move in. "Did…the police say anything about what happened? They were really shifty about what happened on the news."
The Dean Eastley glanced away. Dang, she's probably been told not to discuss it. "We're going to keep people here as long as we can," she said, dodging the question. But then she faltered. "There are some concerns that the pranksters behind the whole 'monster' scare a couple weeks ago might be involved, but that is not confirmed. Please don't tell anyone I told you."
The information grazed the top of Rory's head for a second. Pranksters? Obviously, she was talking about the pithos, but the police had never known about the Agents, so…?
It hit her. Us. She's talking about the vigilante reports; they think we're involved? But then again, they would have seen them in the battle at the bridge. It wasn't that much of a stretch, honestly. "I won't," she said. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"
There wasn't. With the number of people, they were going to continue monitoring them as long as possible, but there were no guarantees. She loaded back into the elevator, and Celene peaked her head out. "That wasn't overly helpful."
"No," Rory sighed. She hit the button for the second floor as the elevator doors closed. "We just get to tell the others we're on the suspect list, I guess."
The lights went out with a flicker. The elevator ground to a stop.
Rory took a deep breath. Oh no.
Moments Earlier, at the Nurse's Station…
Carmen could handle this. With the amount of time she spent at this hospital over the past couple months, one would think she'd be used to having this conversation. Of course, Alyssa was well and about now, but just being here drug up old feelings of guilt and inadequacy.
Right now, though, she had a job to do. "So. There haven't been any improvements, then."
Nurse Marsha shook her head. "I'm afraid not."
Maybe she should rephrase. Above all else, they needed to know if there was anything else they needed to look out for in Narma. "Have there been any changes at all?"
She hesitated. "I wouldn't say there have been changes, but. Their pulses are slower than normal. Their brainwaves don't indicate any dream activity. A few of them had tremors during the night, but just tremors. No seizure activity. Probably just some residual restlessness in the limbs. If they weren't comatose, I would say they're perfectly healthy."
Something about the explanation caused a tickle in her brain, as if she'd forgotten something. Even so, this was mostly nothing that they didn't already know. "Have there been any others keeping an eye on this group? It would give me peace of mind if I could just make sure no one saw anything.
Marsha frowned. "We'll all been in and out of there all night. But…Grace is still here from last night. I can take you to her."
"I would appreciate that, thank you."
They moved down the corridor, though double doors until the came to a cart with needles and bags of fluids strewn across it. A short, round woman with twists emerged from one of the rooms, and Marsha called out. "Hey Grace, this girl wanted to ask you about the bridge patients—"
The lights shut down. Marsha jumped, cursing, and abruptly they both turned and began running down the hall. "No, no, not again!"
Startled, Carmen took off after them.
"Code Blue to rooms 234-252," she called into a pager, before sending the message off.
"What's going on?" Carmen's voice carried through the halls, almost drowned by the sound of heels on tile.
"We have patients on life support here," Marsha bit out, and Carmen's stomach dropped. "That power surge yesterday totally drained our backup generators."
A single, sickening note called out in a cacophony throughout the room, and the two of them scrambled away from the wall. The screens throughout the room displayed nothing but flatlines. As much as the slight disturbed her, Mallory knew not to panic quite yet. She pressed her fingers to the neck of the nearest patient.
Gwen stood by, body a stiff line. "Are they…?"
Mallory breathed. "It's just the machines," she said. "They're still breathing. The monitors just can't pick anything up with the power off. "
If the power was going off again, that had to mean the creature was nearby. But why hadn't the power come back on yet?
Unless it was keeping them off on purpose.
Mallory considered that. Was it sentient enough to strategize that way? What exactly was it they were dealing with?
Regardless, if there was a monster nearby, she needed to ditch this girl immediately and find the fight. Who knew what sort of situation the others might be in? She peered around.
With the most authority she could muster, she said, "You need to stay here. Close the shutters, lock yourself in. I'll go get help."
"Stay here?" The girl bristled.
"Did you see the full news report? If the power's going out, that's not a good sign. Lock yourself in."
Before the girl could argue, Mallory grabbed the unit's metal shutters and closed them. The girl's alarmed face having been successfully obscured, the Soldier peered around the hallway. Her gaze tracked up and down the corridor.
Damn it, where the hell was Carmen? Where had all the nurses gone?
Letting out a yell of exasperation, Mallory shot off down the hall.
Of course, she had to be in the elevator.
"What happened?" Celene piped up, eyes huge in the dimness. "Why did we stop?"
"Power's out." Rory gently pulled out her backpack, where the cat leapt to the floor. "No power means no elevator. It's the same thing that happened before."
Celene gasped. "Oh no."
"My thoughts exactly, little cat." She tapped her foot on the floor. We can't go anywhere until the elevator's back up."
She waited for a moment, then two. The last time, the power had only been out for a few minutes, although it took several more for everything to get back up and running. As time drew on, a tinge of unease started up in her belly, and the more she began to believe the power wasn't going to come back on.
Kneeling down, she fished in her bag. Inside, she found a hard-cover notebook she'd been using to take notes for her end of year exams.
Celene padded closer. "What are you doing?"
Rory held the notebook so that the two outside covers of the notebook were pressing together, forming a wedge. All of the other pages fanned uselessly out towards her. "I want to see where we are." She pushed the cover-wedge into the seem of the elevator door. A tiny opening formed, and she jammed in her fingers.
She let the notebook fall to the floor, pulling open the two sides of the door, From the floor placard she could see below, it seemed she'd gotten stuck between floors 4 and 3. She braced against both sides of the door, forcing it open all the way. "Let's go." She let Celene get down separately; they really weren't far from the floor.
It was quiet. At some point, some kind of emergency lights had cut on, and the hall was bathed in red-orange light flashing at odd intervals. She and Celene seemed alone in the building, even though she knew that was not the case. "Where is everybody?"
The passed by a number of rooms with the doors closed; she tried a knob, spurned on by the silence, but it didn't turn. They're locked? She'd never seen a locked hospital room before. Wasn't that dangerous?
The wider ICU areas were closed off with metal shutters. Why was everything closed?
She turned her head and froze.
At the end of the hallway—how had she not noticed it before? Light flickered off the creature, ricocheting off the walls and crawling across the floor. The creature was completely still, though it had obviously seen her by the way the white voids of its eyes burred into her from 30 feet away. Faintly, she could smell petrichor. She'd mistaken the buzzing for the filaments of the emergency lights.
Her eyes drifted to Celene as she stood frozen, the tiny cat exposed on the floor. "Get off the floor," she whispered as Spindly Legs buzzed menacingly at the end of the hallway. She reached backwards into her backpack, her hand closing around the scepter.
"What?" The cat hissed, fur puffed up aggressively. She wondered if she could feel the tingle of electricity like she could.
Rory's eyes didn't move from the monster's oversized form contorted unnaturally to fit in the boxy hospital corridor. She brought the scepter before herself. "Get off the floor."
Celene bristled, leaping up into an abandoned laundry cart.
The movement seemed to restart time. The creature shrieked, and began tearing down the hallway.
Her heart leapt. "Boreas Star Power, Make-up!"
Light, negative like stars under a blacklight cask blinding through the room. Ribbons of power circled her limbs, and then there she was in her shiny new existence.
Sailor Boreas grounded her boots, watching intently as the light cleared and the monster ceased its flinching. You would think this guy would be used to crazy light shows. She cast her scepter towards her feet, getting ready to jump. This…was going to be draining.
But dang if it didn't look cool.
"Dire Stellar Gust!" She held the wind below her feet, letting it hold her up. She might revel more in the sensation of what was basically flight if there wasn't a big scare lightning guy looking ready to get at her.
Celene peeked out of the laundry basket. "Aurora, that's brilliant!"
"It's pretty good, right?" She yelped as she clumsily dove out of the way, Spindly shooting forward to strike out with an arm. Too bad my attacks are real bad against this guy!
Sailor Boreas glanced around—what was his angle? Before, he had gone for a crowded area, so he was probably here for the patients. She glanced to the locked doors. At least he can't get in there. But she had to do something, and this thing wasn't affected by her.
Dang, I need to get the others. Why can't cell phones get carried over into the dimensional pocket that the rest of this uniform comes from?
She eyed the hall. At the opposite end, she could see a room labeled Magnetic Resonance Imaging. An MRI. Her eyes widened. This thing was electric—didn't magnetics disrupt electrical transmission? If I could get it down there…
Crouching, she let the wind carry her down the hall, the sting of electricity searing her back as Spindly Legs dove into the negative space behind her. "Dire Stellar Gust!" The attack crashed over the monster, holding it back only a moment as it kept advancing.
She winced. She could feel the wind faltering under her feet, and she struggled to keep it up. "All right, big guy," she could hear him thundering behind her, and her pulse pounded. "Just follow the leader—"
"AURORA—"
She didn't hear the warning in time as she flung the door open. In an instant, she was smacked with a bone-trembling force, flung forward to collide with the machine.
Mallory missed when she could only hear the frantic thump on her boots on the tile. Ahead, a red burst flashed in the hall; at least some kind of power was running. Still, it didn't help the sight of nurses frantically scrambling from one room to the other, the hospital's quiet totally abandoned. That horrid sound, the wailing B note cried out from every room.
"Continue compressions," one nurse shouted. "And we need more manual tanks!"
The realization steeled over her like ice on a windshield. Yeah, some people did need the power on all the time. She stood uselessly in the chaos. Weren't there backup generators for this kind of thing?
A thump echoed from above. Her gaze flew up, and there were alarmed twitters from the nursing staff as drywall dusted down. Something was up there. You only get one guess.
As she looked back down, she caught Carmen's eyes in one of the rooms. She stood hunched over a cot, arms held stiff as her palms pressed down on someone's chest in rhythmic pumps. Carmen peered across at her, grimacing. The message was clear: I can't help.
Mallory cursed. She got it, though. There were more people who needed saving here than could be helped with some shiny attack patterns. Turning, she fled down the hall, keeping her eyes peeled for the nearest staircase. There!
Her summance rang up through the stairwell. She sounded out of breath and maybe drunk. She emerged onto floor three as Sailor Decima. She thought she could feel the difference, and more than there merely being more ruffles in her skirt. She felt stronger than before.
There was a sort of sonic noise, like the drill at the state approved dentist's office. She followed the sound out to the farthest hall. She slowed as she saw it hunched over in the middle of the hall. It was worse in person than it had been on the CCTV. It had the presence of a live wire, too bright to get close. It appeared to be…plugged into the wall? With light
There was a noise. "Sailor Decima!" Mallory spotted Celene, peering out of a laundry basket, of all things. "Boreas is in there!"
There was a door in between her and the monster. She was going to have to get right up on it in order to do anything. Could she sneak by it?
"On it." She backed up as slowly as possible until she reached the far wall, where she shimmied along. Heart protesting (hell no, it didn't sign up for this,) she waited until she felt the frame of the door at her fingertips, and then slipped through. She swore under her breath, seeing Rory crumpled against a huge, tube-like machine. "Okay," she said, relaxing a bit when the girl gave her a painful looking salute, "that thing is definitely some sort of cryptid. I mean it this time."
"Sorry," Rory said, struggling to get up on her side. "Underestimated that thing; it really doesn't care about wind."
Mallory pulled her to stand, letting Rory brace across her shoulders. "It's going to care about my foot in its ass in about a minute."
"I respect your level of confidence, given that this thing is three times your size and could easily smear you across the floor."
"Unwarranted confidence is my actual superpower—whoops!" She scrambled backwards, Rory hanging onto her awkwardly as the monster apparently got bored with charging its phone. "Done with the appetizer, I guess."
Rory staggered, dialoguing herself as the creature neared. She held out a hand. "Dire Stellar Gust!"
Yeah, not great—the creature merely winced back, the windy shrapnel passing through it harmlessly. It let out an intense revving sound.
Rory said, "No, no—"
The wave smacked into them, then pulled. Mallory was thrown at how effectively it floored her—the strength fled her limbs like she'd stood up too fast, an almost pleasant numbness tingling across her prefrontal cortex except that it might have been about to kill them.
It seemed thrilled, its electric body dancing with light. Quickly, she shot an arm out, pointing two fingers. "Destiny Chain!"
The chain passed through it; it looked the smallest bit discomforted before continuing. "Hey now," she gritted out grimly, "you're not allowed to be resistant to all of us. That's, like, cheating or something."
It hissed, the wave still going. Crap, the weakness was worsening; she might be about to pass out.
Then, abruptly, it stopped. It shuddered in the air like a bad 3D film.
"No, no, come on!" The Professor banged a fist on the desktop.
"I told you to be careful about over-utilizing the prototypes; don't you care at all? Something's overloading it—"
She dragged the lever back—
The light show cut out. As they watched, Mallory's vision clouded with black spots, Spindly sunk up into the air and vanished.
Mallory couldn't help but cry out. "Okay, what? What just happened?"
Rory frowned.
