Jack sure is taking his time. Sinclair's not really used to sitting around idly when there's something that needs to be done, but he's not really sure what more he can do. He's already searched every drawer and cabinet and room, and...
Well not every room, he supposes, but that one was locked.
But it's just a doorknob, and at the risk of attracting unwanted attention, perhaps he can cure that door of its desire to keep them out.
Sinclair gets to his feet and wanders back into the reception area, drawing his gun as he approaches door number three. He stands back a ways to avoid potential door shrapnel, aims the gun and fires.
Splinters go flying, a good sign. But when he looks at the door, there's a hole through it but it appears to be just as locked as before. He approaches it, cursing under his breath, and shoves at it
and it gives. It's open. Jesus god, it worked.
He steps inside, grinning shamelessly at this wonderful accomplishment and sweet christ what is that smell?
The room is just as identical as the previous two except for the rotting corpse tied to the operating table.
Sinclair buries his nose in the crook of his elbow and walks up to the body, looking it over. It's missing most of its teeth, all of its fingers, and it appears to have been scalped. If Sinclair looks to his right, he'll find a tray full of bloody surgical tools lined up meticulously next to nine decaying digits. He's very sure he doesn't want to know what happened to the tenth.
Clearly the kind of surgery intended to save a life. You bet.
But for all of revolting brutality of the scene laid out before him, he got what he came here for. The body is tied to the operating table with a rope, bound again and again around its torso. Poor bastard wasn't going anywhere.
He works out where he can begin untying it and, once he's got that figured out, takes a deep breath to hold while he gets it undone. It requires a few breaks to step out and breathe before he comes back to it again, but a few minutes later it's over. Sinclair has acquired one rope with bonus blood stains. Now they're in business.
no subject
Well not every room, he supposes, but that one was locked.
But it's just a doorknob, and at the risk of attracting unwanted attention, perhaps he can cure that door of its desire to keep them out.
Sinclair gets to his feet and wanders back into the reception area, drawing his gun as he approaches door number three. He stands back a ways to avoid potential door shrapnel, aims the gun and fires.
Splinters go flying, a good sign. But when he looks at the door, there's a hole through it but it appears to be just as locked as before. He approaches it, cursing under his breath, and shoves at it
and it gives. It's open. Jesus god, it worked.
He steps inside, grinning shamelessly at this wonderful accomplishment and sweet christ what is that smell?
The room is just as identical as the previous two except for the rotting corpse tied to the operating table.
Sinclair buries his nose in the crook of his elbow and walks up to the body, looking it over. It's missing most of its teeth, all of its fingers, and it appears to have been scalped. If Sinclair looks to his right, he'll find a tray full of bloody surgical tools lined up meticulously next to nine decaying digits. He's very sure he doesn't want to know what happened to the tenth.
Clearly the kind of surgery intended to save a life. You bet.
But for all of revolting brutality of the scene laid out before him, he got what he came here for. The body is tied to the operating table with a rope, bound again and again around its torso. Poor bastard wasn't going anywhere.
He works out where he can begin untying it and, once he's got that figured out, takes a deep breath to hold while he gets it undone. It requires a few breaks to step out and breathe before he comes back to it again, but a few minutes later it's over. Sinclair has acquired one rope with bonus blood stains. Now they're in business.