daniel travers. (definenormal) wrote in rulethenight, @ 2011-09-06 22:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | !thread, ana valdez, daniel travers, plot: night of the living dead |
the witnesses were run to ground, put the bastards underground.
Daniel met up with Ana on the floor where the agents' offices were housed. There were men and women rushing about but no one paid them any mind as they walked away from the centre of activity and towards the stairwell that would lead them down, all the way down to the basement if they were lucky. They had agreed to go to the morgue together, and that was where they were headed; they only made one stop on the way down to grab vests and extra ammunition for the sidearms hanging at their hips. Better safe than sorry. They had both seen the talk on the networks, one of the only things that seemed to be working properly after the fierce quake, and given their line of work it didn't hurt to be careful. Neither of them were the sort to go rushing in blindly, and so it was that they slowed as they drew closer to the basement level of the S.I.D. headquarters in downtown Boston.
The building had been damaged during the quake, there was no way such a structure could go without feeling the effects of such a violent natural force, but the stairwells were relatively untouched. There were cracks and buckled railings, fractures arced up the walls like questing fingers, but they managed to make it all the way down without having to navigate any kind of collapse. Daniel honestly wasn't sure whether or not to take that as a good sign. If the stairwell was clear, why hadn't Estella -- and anyone else working down in the morgue at the time of the quake -- come up already? Already he felt better for the vest he had donned, and the weight of the gun at his hip felt reassuring. His hand settled on the grip above his hip as they eased their way to the bottom of the steps. The lights were flickering.
"Why do I feel like I'm in a bad horror movie right now?" It wasn't really a question, more a statement, and a rather cynical one at that. Ahead of them stood the doors that would lead through to the morgue and the labs that were also housed below street level, but there was no sound coming from the other side. No movement, no voices. Nothing. Daniel's uncertainty continued to grow and his hand no longer simply rested on the butt of his gun, but gripped it.