Small Things

*watches you and John struggle with the lock*

Here, let Mister...Winchester, is it?...have a go.

*watches him pick the lock in about two seconds flat*

Goodness. I almost hesitate to wonder how you learned such a skill. Though I suppose we owe you a thanks. Feel free to...

*shuts up as you pick your own lock before I can even finish the sentence*

Ah. Right. Very good then.

*takes wand back*

So...now what?

From:

I suppose we should collect Oliver and try to find our way --

*is cut of by another rumble overhead, this one accompanied by a loud roar*

From:

*sighs with relief as shackle falls open...with only a tiny sniff of jealousy at Sam*

I could have done that, you know. In better light. But...thanks.

*winces and rubs sore ankle gingerly...then looks skyward at the overhead racket*

...I'm guessing that is not a thunderstorm.

Oliver? Who's Oliver? You can collect whoever you like; I'm not leaving here without Archie.

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If you think us being tiny is strange, you're going to think Oliver is stranger. He looks just like you! I mean apart from being a robot that bleeds blue...

*jogs back over to the crack to help Molly and Tarrant up*

Anyway, where's Archie? We'll grab him first then grab Oliver on our way out?

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He's down the tunnels. They took me down there to patch him up once. We'll need to look sharp, though; they guard him like the fucking crown jewels.

*stands, gingerly putting weight on sore leg, shifting back and forth on feet to get the blood flowing again*

*gets footing again...and whole posture suddenly changes; coiling and tensing like a predator*

Right. I'll go on point. Sam, you guard my back. We'll take the others between us in our pockets.

*approaches the door...and finds it strangely unlocked and unguarded*

Okay, that's...odd.

*steals down a dark hallway - limping slightly - and descends an even darker stairwell, down and down and down, then turns along another corridor to a locked door...takes the crowbar and Sybil's wand to pick the lock*

Anything back there, Sam?

*whispers lightly, trying to keep everyone's fear at bay*

So, Martin...what've you been up to since London? Or should I say, down to?

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Well, I've seen some things that I never thought I'd see. We flew some magic motor bikes. We've seen all manner of creature and plot devices. Met up with more than one of your doppelgangers. Oh, and we learned that Loki can pole dance and will flirt with just about anything including articles of clothing.

*chuckles*

You know, the usual.

From:

samiwinchester.livejournal.com

*looks back* No seems like we're good for now. *looks at the short man* Loki? You should stay away from that guy. He's a dick.

Edited Date: 2014-02-11 03:39 am (UTC)

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*chuckles*

Oh, so you've met him, then?

Nah, he's okay, really. Bit full of himself, but I guess you would be if you were a god.

From:

samiwinchester.livejournal.com

I fought him. I actually thought he was killed. At least the last I saw he was dead. A bit interesting that Gabriel is back.

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*wonders how much torture you've endured*

No, no, not Gabriel. Loki. God of Mischief? And I'm pretty sure he's alive.

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One certainly hopes so. * to Sam* How long ago did you fight this Loki fellow? And what did he look like? Was there a smallish fellow with him that looked like John?

*chews lip anxiously*

Speaking of people who look like John, I do hope this dreadful potion wears off soon. I only hope we're not too late to help poor Oliver...if we can ever find our way back in these dreadful tunnels. Shouldn't we be leaving marks on the walls or something?

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Gabriel, eh? As in "the Angel"? I don't know; you'd think gods and angels would have enough to do without bothering us lot down here. Had my fill of them, if you want to know the truth.

*keeps watch and tells the others about Noxs, and narrowly dodges a blow to the head (http://small-things.livejournal.com/10264.html?thread=337176#t337176)*

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*smiles*

And it looks like Tarrant was right about the shrinking juice. Sorry about that, Tarry, I owe you an apology.

*tenses at a noise far down the corridor...then finishes picking the lock and opens the door quietly...still no guards*

I don't like this. Where are they all? Keep close, Sam.

*walks on, keeping a keen eye out for danger in the nearly-nonexistant fluorescent lighting along the concrete walls*

So basically, what you need to know...this whole outfit is run by a guy called Noxs. He's making a mint off this place. The two things you need the most in a desert are water and salt, and he's got the corner market on both. He's dammed up the underground reservoir that used to run above ground further downstream, and he makes all the prisoners mine the Flats and process the salt for him. Slave labour. Almost no one in here's a criminal; they're all lost travelers like us or people who stood up to Noxs.

And Archie's the key to it all.

*comes to a ragged hole in the wall where the concrete gives way to a rough-hewn tunnel...with no fluorescent lighting*

*lets eyes adjust...then takes a deep breath and enters*

Sam, we might have to take down a guard or two. Be ready.

*feels way along the tunnel walls...farther...and farther...*

*WHOOSH*!!!

*barely ducks in time to avoid a massive club to the noggin from an attacking guard*

From:

samiwinchester.livejournal.com

Not a problem. *walks on but jumps back at the whooshing sound. Helps John back up and backs up a little bit with him trying to get a better look at the guard.*

From:

*coils tighter, senses sharp as a needle blade*

*waits...and waits...and then hears nanosecond air-shift as the guard moves to strike again*

*ducks and does a hard rugby tackle from the side, finding the right points to kick his footing away and finally knock him unconscious against the tunnel wall*

*catches breath...and is actually grinning*

Whoof! That was a nasty one. There's usually two of them, though...I wonder where his partner went? Maybe up top dealing with whatever that noise was. Ouch.

*shifts on sore ankle, flexing it gingerly,...but chuckles under breath, slowly coming down from the adrenaline rush*

Everyone alright? Sam? Everybody okay in the pockets?

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*in a strained, frightened voice*

...Very nearly.

Edited Date: 2014-02-11 04:27 am (UTC)

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Yes, though I do with this potion would wear off so I could be of some use...

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Well said, dear boy. Well said. Being the size of a squirrel is hideous; I don't know how the squirrels stand it.

*bumps around in John's shirt pocket*

Uff! To say nothing of the assault on one's olfactory senses.

*waves hand in front of face*

I suppose since I drank the potion first I'll be the first to recover, so if my nose suddenly seems larger than normal or something of that nature, I suppose we'll know we're almost in the clear.

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Oi! You spend all day hauling salt rocks out in the desert sun and see how pretty you smell.

*is suddenly grabbed by a Vogon guard* (http://small-things.livejournal.com/10264.html?thread=339736#t339736)

Edited Date: 2014-02-11 02:00 pm (UTC)

From:

vogon-cule.livejournal.com

*looms out of the darkness and grabs John in a headlock*

Resistance is useless!

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