towerofanimus

Entry tags:

open

Characters: Homura and YOU!
Setting: Library!
Format: Starting in prose, will change to whatever!
Summary: Homura's escapades with explosives.
Warnings: bombs

[ (A) - Setting: the library, at a spare desk; backdated to the third day ]
She'd spent her time the first day looking through the tower. She mapped out each nook and cranny of the place; looked it up and down and all around until it was committed to memory. She'd passed out in her bed shortly after, the same one she'd woken up in, and had gotten up early the next day. Second day was spent doing more of the same. Then, the third.

Waking up around 7AM was all to locate a few bits and pieces. And she's found them now, after an hour of searching and some improvisation. Homura sits in the library, a quiet corner, and gently wipes down a fuse with rubbing alcohol. She's making a pipe bomb, and that much should be obvious.

[ (B) - Setting: the library again; late on the 4th ]
Homura set up signs. She writes in black marker on a piece of plain white paper, "Please do not enter. Demolition site." There is tape strung along as well, carrying the same message in clear printing and cutting off a large chunk of the library. It's late at night, when most people would be asleep-- she'd chosen this time in particular to help to try and prevent any injury. You can see and watch her go about this sectioning off fairly easily, and she moves with efficiency and ease.

There's no exit in sight; so, Homura thinks, she'll make her own. There are no tools around that she could use, and breaking the windows did not work.

Blowing a hole in the side of a building when they're god knows how many stories up isn't an easy way to get out, but she supposes it's one way. She has a large amount of rope piled up underneath a faraway desk, and plans on using that once the building is open.

Homura tapes the bomb to the wall, sets the timer, walks behind a desk and crouches down. The bomb goes off.

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"How?" She says, not paying much mind to Chaplin's exclamation.

Oh, he's so naive... Chaplin feels sorry for him. She shakes her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth, and waits for him to answer Homura.

"I am an Angel of the Lord."

That is all Castiel tells them. Unless they need to be convinced otherwise.

She's silent, not sure how to reply to that; so after that pause, she says, "I see." Extraterrestrials and witches and magic and time travel exist, so surely angels are not too far out of the realm of possibility. "Did you have any ideas? For a plan."

Oh, right, an angel. By now, Chaplin's not so sure she doesn't believe him. No branch of sin could have done that.

"Aside from threatening the workers here, I don't have one," she replied.

Castiel shakes his head, walking towards a window. Even the glass seems fortified with... whatever it is that's keeping him in, and there is nothing out there aside from the fog as far as the human eye can see.

"I have looked through some of the books in the library, but they offer nothing." His angelic communication has been silent since he first woke up, so he isn't able to ask for outside help from the Host either. "We have to try every possible way to escape."

"Let's start with forcing some information out of staff, then," she says, pausing to think. She's still a little unsteady on her feet, thinking about how they moved so quick... she flicks her long hair back. Quietly she adds:

"Weapons. I don't imagine you need one, Castiel, but what about you, Chaplin? I have a handgun. I don't intend on lending it out to either of you. But it may come in handy in persuading a guard to speak. If you would excuse me for a brief moment, I could retrieve it.

"Additionally, we may not have the element of surprise. But time is of the essence. Upon reexamining it, sleep may not be the best bet. For myself, at least-- because I've caused more of a mess than anyone else so far. I do not expect to escape some sort of punishment. They also likely are expecting us-- any of us-- to do something. Not just because of the bomb, but because of our being here at all. So surprise is not something I believe we will ever truly have.

"You can join me in questioning one of the people who work here, right now. I won't refuse your help but I do not necessarily need it either."

"I don't need a weapon," Chaplin replies, but doesn't elaborate. She can believe, after speaking with this girl, that she doesn't need the help. Chaplin has met other children her age who would be fine on their own.

"I would like to join you," she adds. "I want to hear these answers straight from the horse's mouth."

Homura is a good leader, at least, from what Castiel can gather with her speech. He is intrigued at how a girl at such a young age could be this commanding, but the aura around Homura suggests that she is not what she seems. Castiel is curious, but now is not the time to dilly-dally on the little things.

They need to get out, and fast.

"I will join you."

Homura nods once, a simple acknowledgement of them both.

"Then give me a moment."

Striding behind a nearby bookshelf-- going so far past so as neither of them can see her-- she transforms. It's quick, brief and with a subtle flash of light. When she reemerges she's wearing her magical girl outfit and she's reaching inside the shield for the handgun. It's still there, which is a relief; she'd woken up in this place with it empty, after all.

"Please transport us to the kitchens," she requests of Castiel. "There are more there than anywhere else."

The change in clothing doesn't surprise Castiel, as he nods and places a hand on both their shoulders, moving them to the kitchens in a blink of an eye.

"Lead us, Homura."

Another nod.

Right there is a staff member, so she quickly approaches. Taps them on the shoulder, and when they spin around to face her, she is quick. She gives them both a glance over her shoulder to let them know they ought to speak up as well.

"Excuse me."

The change in clothing does surprise Chaplin, but right now they're on a mission. She'll wait until later to harass Homura about it. (But she will harass Homura about it.)

When Homura approaches the kitchen worker, Chaplin does as well. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right~?"

While the other two start the questions, Castiel takes the moment to observe everyone in the kitchens. Aside from the three of them, everyone is wearing collars, but the major difference is that they're colorless, as opposed to Chaplin's yellow, and his and Homura's violet.

"They are different from us..." he mutters, walking around to observe them more.

Edited 2011-06-08 04:34 (UTC)

The kitchen worker is unresponsive, and stares them down blankly. Homura doesn't like it; the gaze reminds her of something unalive. Not dead, but not alive either-- something hanging in the balance.

"We'd like to know about the persons responsible for bringing us here," she says, voice as flat as her expression.

Chaplin waits a moment, but when it becomes clear there won't be a response, she clenches her fist, breaking the skin of her palm with a fingernail. Some additional persuasion might become necessary after all.

"We don't want to hurt you, dear," she adds gently. "If you want us to work in this tower for you, don't you think it would help if we knew why?"

"We need answers, and we need them now," Castiel growls, his hands clenching and unclenching, already antsy after not being able to move anywhere outside of this small area. "Tell us, or I will smite you down."

The worker stares after them, eyes black and blank as a fish's. His mouth opens and it's nearly as though he might say something, and Homura stands at attention. But nothing; it was just her hoping, and him taking a breath.

"We're not going to get anything out of him this way," she murmurs, drawing her weapon from the shield. She doesn't aim it at him just yet, just holds it out as a warning.

She takes a step back, nodding at Castiel then nodding at Chaplin. She doesn't know if she likes threatening someone-- anyone-- but what must be done must be done. "It would be appreciated if you were to say something."

Chaplin opens her hand, and forms a medium-sized spike from the blood she's drawn.

"We know you can speak," she says. "Now, if you don't answer us..."

No sound. Not even a whimper from the threat. The worker just stares back at them, his almost unblinking eyes rivaling Castiel's intense gaze.

He frowns, unsheathing his sword. "They do not respond to verbal threats. We have to take action."

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open

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tl;dr LET'S GO

go go tl;dr rangers

sadly Cas isn't so much of a tl;dr, but he can be a good ranger.

/o/

\o\

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