k39zzz | Things I've never seen before, behind bolted doors

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Things I've never seen before, behind bolted doors

The disconnection of the Warehouse zipline had more consequences than anyone realizes, yet. When it fell, it knocked several Artifacts off of the shelves. Some are relatively benign; others, not so much.

One of them would be benign, if it hadn't fallen through an air vent and broken open on some delicate machinery.

Deep in the bowels of the Warehouse, gears jam, groan, and grind to a halt. The energies the machine was meant to keep in check begin to build up, slowly at first, but with increasing speed and intensity. If they reach critical mass, the consequences will be... less than pleasant.

Meanwhile, on the main Warehouse floor, a wooden door propped up against a column in Toronto sector--a door labeled "Fixture #768898D, 'MILLIWAYS' DOOR"--has been jostled open.

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There is a point where you feel like the door's calling to you. Mark hasn't felt that yet. So when the door's slightly ajar and he spots the corridor his heart is pounding in his chest.

He looks right and he looks left. This doesn't feel right. It's not Right. It's too soon, he's not ready-right until he heard the sound.

Rubber, smacking against the wall.

Taking a step, he moved toward the door and pushed it open a crack before peering around inside.

This wasn't Gideon. Not by a long shot. He took another step through.

Sameth frowns as he watches Mark go through the door.

That sound just doesn't seem right and so he readies a Charter spell, a little blue knife in his hand as he goes through the door.

No, the sound simply isn't right at all.

It reminds him of some of his lesser fond memories. (Mandatory gym class, to be precise.

Ugh.)

Still.

Rory's certain he ought to let whoever left the door open to close it, if they didn't want just anyone passing through.

Like - that bloke with the blue knife just now.

(Unless that's his door.)

"Er - excuse me!"

And he's passing through the doorway.

The space beyond the door is a long corridor lined with shelves of... stuff. There's no other word for it; there seems to be no common thread linking it all together. Amber lights illuminate the space from above; the ceiling seems quite a long way off, perhaps a hundred yards, perhaps more. There are gaps in the shelves, here and there, but there's no real end to the lane they're in. Even on the other side of the pillar the door is propped up against (and that's another weird thing, the door they came in through isn't actually attached to anything), the shelves just keep right on going.

The sound is clearer now--the sound of large rubber balls bouncing over and over again. It's difficult to tell from the echoes, but it seems to be coming from the other side of the shelves on the left.

Hoffman suddenly-inexplicably-wanted his gun.

It was a sudden strong urge that swam through his gut as he put his hands out and looked up.

He grimaces. No sense not being cautious. And here I thought I'd seen everything this place could throw at me....

He takes a step back-heedless of what might be behind him, turning to look at the door.

He steps into Sameth who curses since that was his foot,

"Charter, watch it. Is this your world?"

"..Sameth?"

"No." He eyes the knife, "You have any other weapon on you? Some kind of projectile weapon or knife?"

"Its not a knife, its a spell and I'm wearing a knife,"

That doesn't actually answer Sameth's question though,

"Do you know where we are?"

Mark's reply is a loud curseword. Somewhere, the pope dies.

"A knife? A fucking-"

He jerks. Did he hear something? Anything?

His senses may be a little haywire.

Maybe he heard Rory?

His sneakers aren't terribly loud, but he appears to be rushing towards them.

(The door didn't open when he turned back to get it.

It's left him a little ... alarmed.)

"Um. Right -"

He stops by the two men.

"Hullo. Would this odd space be part of either one of your world's?"

"Not mine."

Though it could be. Straightening, Mark glances from the right to the left, "...Goddamnit. You armed kid?"

He assumes he's a kid. He's got sneakers.

"Not mine, it would have more stones,"

Sameth turns to Rory, at least there's someone else who's kind of sane.

Bollocks. He has no idea what traveling into another complete stranger's world means - particularly where the getting back part is concerned.

"Armed?"

Rory frowns.

What exactly does that -

"What do you mean?"

"Some kind of weapon." Mark looks up, "This is a dark, crowded place with no discernable signs of life. I don't really want to go farther into it then I absolutely have to."

He turns, looking for the door.

The bouncing noise just got a lot louder and less regular. Two people--a man with short black hair and a slender woman with long, wavy brown hair--run across the lane through a set of matching gaps in the shelves.

They're followed by... dodgeballs. lots and lots and LOTS of dodgeballs.

"Um, they might be able to help,"

The balls are really orange and just don't look right either.

"- what the -"

Okay.

Well, at least that confirms the sound of bouncing rubber.

(Dodgeball. His faaavourite sport.)

"I don't think any sort of weapon will be useful against those things," he points out uselessly.

Now would be a good time for running, right?

Yes?

Mark can't answer. When one of those went by it whacked him on the back of the head. Staggering, he looks furiously in the direction of the bouncing balls, "....I dunno, I can think of a few things that'd be useful."

Two of the dodgeballs linger behind, directly in front of the three newcomers. They bounce up and down in a regular rhythm, as though being dribbled by an invisible basketball player.

"What's making them do that?"

Its fascinating in a worrying way and Sam takes a careful step towards the balls.

"Er - I don't know, but it'd better stop."

Soon-like.

It's creepy.

Aaaand ... now that blonde bloke is walking towards them.

Has he never played dodgeball before? Those things hurt when you get pegged in the face.

(He'd know.)

"Oi - wait. What are you doing?"

Mark's only response is to grab Sameth by the arm, "Don't touch them. Listen, we stick together there's less of a chance we'll get hurt by something in this place alright?"

He sounds concerned now.

"Careful. I wasn't going to touch them. I just wanted to see how they work,"

It takes him a moment to refocus on the spell in his hand.

Rory frowns, eyes shifting from the bright orange rubber balls to Sameth's hand.

... he isn't sure he likes the sight of that either.

It's very ... alien.

(But probably safer than the dodgeballs.)

"Sticking together ... yeah. Um. That's probably a good plan."

Shouting can be heard from the direction the man and woman ran. It's too muffled to be comprehensible, though.

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