100 in 100!

[kaige68.livejournal.com]

And so it begins!

Your challenge (should you choose to accept it) is to crank out 100 words or 1 graphic inspired by the word:
Facility

Comments

[agdhani.livejournal.com]

“Mr. Fenway! My word it is good to see you! After what people have been saying…” The thin faced soldier with broad hands grabbed Aman’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
Assuming the rumors involved his death and not feeling inclined to address it until he confronted the Laedan, he stood paralyzed until the soldier let him go “I haven’t been gone that long,” he quipped. “Have you seen Norse?”
“Didn’t Laedan tell you? You don’t know?”
“Tell me what?” He chose not to mention he had not yet spoken to the Laedan, that he had not yet been to the Fortress, he steered the fellow through the barrack’s doorway as though he had come to inspect the facility. It looked the same as it always had, gray, drab, nearly lightless except for the feeble sun’s rays that pushed through the layers of grunge on the narrow rectangular windows. There was no power to the overhead lights, as that was reserved for evening or for the stormiest, coldest of days, and the fire at the far end had already gone out so that the hearth could be cleaned. Beds had been made save for those on off-duty rotation who snored as the slept and seemed not to hear the muted conversation of the pair walking the center aisle between the left and right rows of beds.
“Gone missing they say…or maybe he’s on his own mission. People won’t say. One day he just stopped comin’ round.”
Aman pursed his lips. Norse undoubtedly had his share of enemies, people who would want him dead. If his absence was a kidnapping, Geary would undoubtedly prevent that knowledge from spreading. But a secret mission…
He nodded with relief. That was the most likely explanation. It meant he was not likely to run into the other man before he was ready to do so.
“Some think HOPE’s using him for their heists…or he’s doing them himself and that’s why the anakarist is here again…” His guide whispered.
“Anakarist?” Aman’s heart beat faster and harder. “Heists?”
“Medical supplies…we’re stretched cause a lot of us are guarding the clinics and medical centers…either to protect them or as a cover up. Nothing’s happened in Kennedy though. All’s been quiet otherwise. Is it true you went after weapons...?”
“Why would there be weapons?” Aman asked him, reaching the door at the opposite end of the barracks and opening it to let himself out. “Shouldn’t you be about your duties?” Norse might not be there to punish them for slacking, but if word reached the Laedan, the punishment would be no less severe.
“Yeah…I should…” He had been so surprised by seeing Aman as he left the barracks that he had forgotten he was on his way back to the main gatehouse outpost. “Well…welcome back, sir…”
Left alone, Aman knew what he had to do next.
Talk to as many soldiers and grounds staff as possible to verify those rumors, all while avoiding the Laedan, Anakarist Miller, and Donn Channon.

Facility - OZ - Ryan/Shannon - 153 words

[cmk418]

Ryan woke up behind bars. Patrick was nowhere to be seen, either they took him to a hospital or he was dead.He had one hell of a headache but his main concern right now was Cyril.

He asked for his one phone call and Shannon picked up on the first ring.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where are you? Maggie called- all a mess since Patrick..."

Ryan cut her off. "Shannon, listen to me. You've got to get Cyril from the hospital. I can't do it. Not right now. If you're not there, he'll be sent to a mental facility."

"Well, maybe it's for the best."

"No. Look, I'll be out of here and able to take care of him soon enough. Just look after him for a little while."

"But-" Shannon tried to protest.

"Shannon, you owe me," said Ryan, hanging up the phone and hoping like hell she'd do the right thing.

[simplyn2deep.livejournal.com]

The facility loomed in silence, its halls empty save for echoes of distant footsteps. Once a bustling hub of research, it now carried an air of abandonment. Derek paused, sensing something off, his wolf instincts prickling.

"Are we sure this is the place?" Stiles whispered, flashlight beam dancing on peeling paint and rusted doors.

"Yeah," Derek muttered, scanning the shadows. "But it doesn’t feel... right."

A distant clang made them both freeze.

"Okay," Stiles said, voice tight, "how about we go back to *not* poking around creepy, deserted facilities?"

Derek growled softly. "Too late for that."