Drabble_weekly Challenge 448 - Old habits
May. 10th, 2025 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: Old habits
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 448 - In the dark at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
drabble_zone
drabble_zoneSummary: Jack's nightly routine feels a bit pointless. A triple drabble.
Jack wandered the corridors of the hub, taking in his nightly tour and checking the places and spaces that gave him comfort at night.
He always checked the locks on the weapons store – secure and unrelenting – did a run around the hothouse – sparing a moment to water anything that looked a bit droopy – inspected the interrogation room – nothing but a solitary table and age old scratches on the wall – and then made his way down to the cells to check on whatever weevils, or other undesirables were locked up down there.
Everything was in order, just as it had been almost every night for the past six years since he'd taken over running the place. He let the bulkhead door to the cells boom shut behind him, sealing in the residents for the night, and cast a gaze down the stairwell that went many floors below.
There were more cells down there, empty, unused and falling into disrepair. Further down still was the archive, which was gathering dust except for a small portion that was slowly but methodically being organised by the efficient young man he'd recently hired.
Beyond that? There were just more dark empty spaces. Who knew what might be lurking in those uninhabited, unsupervised corners of the hub. Nothing was the answer Jack told himself, wondering why tonight of all nights he hadn't just turned his head and headed back upstairs. There was nothing down in the dark of the hub for him to be worried about. It was just like him, solitary, unchanging, and, if he was honest, getting a bit shabby from a lack of proper use.
He shook off the thoughts. There was nothing and no one in the hub that shouldn't be here. The place was secure and tucked in for the night.
Jack wandered the corridors of the hub, taking in his nightly tour and checking the places and spaces that gave him comfort at night.
He always checked the locks on the weapons store – secure and unrelenting – did a run around the hothouse – sparing a moment to water anything that looked a bit droopy – inspected the interrogation room – nothing but a solitary table and age old scratches on the wall – and then made his way down to the cells to check on whatever weevils, or other undesirables were locked up down there.
Everything was in order, just as it had been almost every night for the past six years since he'd taken over running the place. He let the bulkhead door to the cells boom shut behind him, sealing in the residents for the night, and cast a gaze down the stairwell that went many floors below.
There were more cells down there, empty, unused and falling into disrepair. Further down still was the archive, which was gathering dust except for a small portion that was slowly but methodically being organised by the efficient young man he'd recently hired.
Beyond that? There were just more dark empty spaces. Who knew what might be lurking in those uninhabited, unsupervised corners of the hub. Nothing was the answer Jack told himself, wondering why tonight of all nights he hadn't just turned his head and headed back upstairs. There was nothing down in the dark of the hub for him to be worried about. It was just like him, solitary, unchanging, and, if he was honest, getting a bit shabby from a lack of proper use.
He shook off the thoughts. There was nothing and no one in the hub that shouldn't be here. The place was secure and tucked in for the night.
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Date: 2025-05-10 08:56 am (UTC)