Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

[damned-intercom.livejournal.com]

Despite the rough start and the heavier snowfall, the buses managed to stay on route and on schedule. With minutes to spare, they arrived at the gates of Landel's Institute, back to the waiting arms of the military. All pretenses seemed to drop at this point, and the soldiers again took on their patented gruff exteriors. Patients were filed out of the buses in an orderly manner, eventually being escorted to their rooms for dinner in much the same. There, as promised by the personnel, well-behaved patients found their purchases among their returned possessions. A few even found new faces, though whether they brought as much joy as bought goods remained unseen.

The woman manning the intercom seemed to have missed the notice about the day's trip as her announcement remained no different from the usual. "Attention all subjects and personnel," she said. "Lights Out will commence within the hour."

A pause.

"I repeat, Lights Out will commence within the hour. All personnel: please report to your stations. The General will begin his address once preparations are underway. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Comments

M71

[tightsofmight]

So today had been largely humiliating. Peter was glad the bus ride over had allowed his ankle to recuperate, but that didn't erase the fact that he'd spent the afternoon playing piggy back with a man practically twice his size. Oh, Sam was nice about it, for sure. And it had been (tragically) necessary, since his foot was basically dead meat and hobbling wasn't an option on an icy sidewalk. That was a brain splattering waiting to happen. But it still boiled down to him riding another man. In public. Anyone could have seen. Oh, and Harvey had also figured out his secret identity. And his bestest buddy the Good Doctor Humperdink had stalked him through town and gave him a panic attack about Brainy.

Worst of all, however, was going on his final spin by the bulletin board and finding no word from Senna whatsoever.

It was easy enough to rationalize, he guessed. Not as many people frequented the town bulletin as they did the Sun Room's. Peter was willing to bet money that some people didn't even know it was there. Far more difficult to convince the cold, clenching grip on his chest of that. Peter thinned his lips as he settled into his desk, the growing dread resisting every effort to stifle it. He would put up another note tomorrow. Senna would be able to catch that one for sure.

Or so he hoped. Moving his bowl of gruel aside so he could stow away his notebook and Sakura's papers, he found something unexpected when he flipped up the lid of his desk. There was an innocuous silver glint. A chain and a pair of dog tags. Peter's nose wrinkled. "What?"

He was already wearing his. Even the trip to Doyleton hadn't spared them of that, the metal resting cooly under his t-shirt and sweater combo. Frowning, Peter set his notes down and withdrew the tags, skipping the unfamiliar number and class and going straight for the name.

Sarah Gear.

Peter felt ice in his chest. That didn't prove anything. These could be anyone's. He couldn't even remember Senna's fake name. Except that he was sure it started with an S and Sarah about fit that, and who else around here was he close enough to that would qualify him for finding their old stuff in his desk...

He dropped the tags and slammed the desk shut. No. He was making another note tomorrow. He was going to ask after Senna and find her roommate and stake out where she slept and do things the proper way. He wasn't going to panic because of a few loose ends. Senna herself could have gone around depositing gifts in their rooms. She was spontaneous enough. Quirky.

The gruel tasted especially bitter as Peter shoveled it down and thought about anything but spunky girls with purple hair, wondering when Brainy was going to join him and what kinds of things he'd find in the basement tomorrow. He mulled over the theories he'd discussed with Sakura and fed his curiousity about the list of monsters he now had in his desk.

And he definitely didn't think of Senna at all.

[emotionl4arobot.livejournal.com]

Brainiac 5 stopped as he opened the door to his room just in time to see Peter slam the drawer shut in his desk as though he were particularly upset about something, and a flutter of uncertainty started in his stomach. When they'd spoken earlier that day, Peter had seemed happy enough. Aside from the initial problem that they'd first discussed, his friend had been relaxed and happy to spend time with him. He wondered what had changed that.

Well, he wouldn't find it out by standing here staring at Peter's back. Closing the door quietly behind him, Brainiac 5 slipped into the room and set his tray down on his desk, a concerned expression fixed on his roommate.

"Peter? Is something wrong? I thought today was better than before, and I... enjoyed our lunch as well, but if something happened, I'd like to hear about it."

Peter would and had done the same for him, after all, and the Coluan found that, unlike some others here where the objective would have been to search for more data on this place or potential topics of interest, he was more concerned with doing what he could to help his friend.

M35

[mirthful]

There was his horn!

Once Gamzee had been let back into his room he found some of his things returned to him, like his other clothes and, most importantly, the bicycle horn he'd bought that afternoon. It wasn't technically a clown horn, as they hadn't had any of those in any quality he considered worth buying, but it was as good as it was going to get. It made the appropriate honking sound, and that was as much as he could ask for.

He squeezed it a few times now, enjoying the way the honks filled the empty room. It was such a great thing to hear, having gone a day and a night without it. His nurse had said something about a roommate, but until they arrived there was no one around to complain about how much noise he was making.

Eventually he noticed the food, and walked over to his desk to check it out. It was just a bowl of... pink? Pink something. If it had a name, it must have been something human he was unfamiliar with. He dug in with a spoon curious as to what it tasted like, given that it was the only food they apparently had that night. The result was something incredibly plain but completely edible.

Actually, it got better the more he ate of it. He might even enjoy it, though it wouldn't be any sort of replacement for a good slime pie.

F22

[ex_rosebuds752]

Finding herself escorted back to her room by the same not-so-talkative bull of a woman guard, Rose didn't bother pestering her for answers. From the look she got the one time she opened her mouth, she was pretty sure it wasn't going to do her any good. So she kept her mouth shut, memorizing the path she was escorted on, taking a more active interest in the building they were being held at. If everything she'd heard was true - and she'd gotten the same story from enough people today to believe them - she was going to need to me infinitely familiar with her surroundings in the near future.

Escorted back to a room - she couldn't tell if it was the same as this morning or not; they all seemed blandly identical. Sterile. Still, she was glad to finally shake her guard and she crossed the room to sink down on the bed, eying the tray of food on the nightstand with obvious skepticism.

"Is that what humans are passing as acceptable food these days?" she muttered to herself, leaning over to eye the gruel. Not appetizing in the least, thank goodness.

Sighing she stretched out on the bed and leaned back against the headboard as she stared sightlessly up at the ceiling and wondered what to do. She should search out Elena, she decided. With Stefan and Damon having no memory of her, it left her uncomfortably adrift, and until she spoke with Elena, she still had no idea where she'd stand. Fingers absently played with her new ring as she lost herself in thought, willing the time to go faster. She was impatient, restless. She wanted to see for herself what happened after dark, as crazy and reckless a thought as that might be...

[selfnighted.livejournal.com]

"—Hello!" Maya said, after a moment's pause at the door. A longer pause and she'd be pushed in, she'd imagine, so she stepped inside. A brief glance backward as the soldier closed the door confirmed that they'd resumed their duties as military personnel, though there had been no reason to suspect they wouldn't.

At least she had her tiny violin back. Though the idea that the asylum found the patients so potentially threatening that something as tiny as this little toy had been confiscated was laughable, she had resented it all the same.

But enough lingering on that. She could play with her violin later. "A pleasure to meet you," she said as she walked to her desk. "You haven't seen a girl in here by any chance? Blue hair, energetic? Taken away by soldiers, perhaps?"

M30

[toxicspiderman]

After the obligatory frisking, S.T. leaned his head up against a window.   

The next thing he knew, the buses were pulling to a stop, and the side of his face was covered in drool.  He wiped it off and peered out the window.  The building stared back.  No zombie woods chases tonight after all.  

He yawned and stretched all the way back to his room, though the cane made it a little awkward.  Sleeping all twisted up in a bus seat had left his neck with a familiar twinge, but the knee felt better.  He turned the Martha's Vineyard fashion show rejects back over to the military drone and engaged in a brief struggle of words about the cane.  Very brief, since the other side had all the power even if he had all the truth.

He ignored the plate of gruel, and checked his stuff.  A six-pack, a pack of cookies, sugar, hot pepper, and cranberry cocktail wasn't much of a spread, but he was a bachelor.  It was better than some of the parties he'd thrown before finding decent roommates.  Ones that didn't get too pissed off if you ate their weird bulgur-seaweed salads at three AM as long as you paid them back.  

Re: M30

[hat_einen_vogel]

Going to town had been pretty cool, but coming back from it only served to highlight the fact that they were being held captive—or something. Prussia still wasn't sure exactly what the military that had moved in was really trying to accomplish—even if he did like them better than the pushy nurses—but the fact that everyone here was being held against their collective will was still obvious.

Taylor had arrived back at the room ahead of him, and Prussia took a moment to change back into his uniform under orders, handing it back to his escort before being left alone with his roommate and dinner.

...dinner being the less appealing of the two. After having a decent breakfast and then lunch in town, he'd forgotten all about the pink gruel that was now looming on his desk. Prussia felt like it was a good thing he wasn't hungry in the least.

He pulled the chair away from his desk, turning it towards Taylor and then taking a seat. "Hey," he said in greeting, pushing the bowl of gruel out of his sight with one hand. With the other, he jabbed a finger towards Taylor's cane. "So what happened to you?"

M25

[ryuuzaki]

L was pleased to find that he had returned to the room before his roommate. Orihara was still an unknown quantity, and thanks to Aguilar's procedures, some of the supplies that L had collected would be left out in the open. He'd had reasons for choosing to lock certain items in his desk drawer; he didn't appreciate them being moved to a location that other patients could access. From a certain point of view, it struck him as ironic that Aguilar seemed so obsessed with security when he was interfering with L's own attempts to maintain it. No... not security, he corrected himself. His aims are more likely to be discipline and control. At any rate, he cares only about his own security, and that of his men, his goals, not the ability of his prisoners to keep secrets amongst themselves.

When he'd understood, the night before, that the serial number assigned to him was alphanumeric code for his real name, he'd been hit by a wave of nauseated horror. He'd covered it as well as he could. Putting him in a dangerous situation, cut off from all his customary resources, was one thing; he could still act with caution. So far, apart from the headaches, he wasn't the worse for wear. Revealing his name to the wrong person, though, might prove to be tantamount to signing his death warrant, and while most people wouldn't be able to see the box, Orihara could. L didn't yet trust Orihara, but that was irrelevant; he wouldn't share his full name even with the few patients he did trust. The only reason even Lunge knew as much as his first name was that L had had to reveal it in an attempt to establish credibility.

The consolation was that there didn't seem to be a specific pattern to the assignment of numbers—Taylor's was that of a pizza delivery line. Therefore, if he showed no specific concern about it, there would be no reason for anyone to assume that L's number meant anything. Even if they did, each number could represent between two and three letters. L's name was unusual enough that it wouldn't be the first or second guess of anyone who assumed that the number was a code and tried to decipher it. He doubted that it would have been obvious to Orihara that his distress had been caused by the meaning of the number, either. A more reasonable conclusion, based on available evidence, would be that it had been caused by the flavor of his dinner.

He made sure that certain supplies were where he wanted them to be—the pistol and bandages in the backpack and the bat on the closet floor, to start—then bent to take off the boots he'd been stuck in all day.

"Preparations".... That doesn't sound good. Past statements of that nature had tended to mean that he should prepare for an unusual night.

Sorry for the wait!

[propheteer]

By the time Izaya reached his shared room after being escorted from the bus, Ryuuzaki had already arrived. In addition, the same box that had awaited him yesterday sat on his desk once more, next to what was supposed to be dinner.

He gave a nod to Ryuuzaki, waiting by the door for the moment. "Good evening." he gave what he expected would be a pleasant enough smile, before slowly moving towards his desk. "It looks like everything is back to military rule," he commented as he went. "But being taken into town was a surprise—is that something that happens often, or only on special occasions? Though I can't say I know what might have been special about today...."

His brief rambling trailed off as he reached the desk. The pink gruel looked especially bland today, so Izaya ignored it in favor of the box, lifting off the lid. His makeshift lockpicking tools sat in the bottom once more, and he pulled them out to move them to his pocket.

That accomplished, he cleared the box from the desk and took a seat, pushing the 'meal' aside and turning towards Ryuuzaki.

M7

[lighthearted]

The bus ride back had been surprisingly quiet for Sora, though that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He'd had a chance to look out the window and watch the scenery pass by. By the time that the bus made it back up to the building and they were led off, he felt that he could stop worrying about the possibility of night starting prematurely.

And he did make it back to his room without any trouble, although the nurses started acting more and more like soldiers until it became clear that that off feeling he'd gotten from them throughout the day had meant something. Sora had more or less expected that, though, and so he didn't make much of a fuss, allowing himself to be dropped off in M7 as usual.

There he found a plate of that spicy curry waiting for him, but Minato was nowhere in sight. Sora's concern from before returned, but he pushed it down, realizing that he would know for sure before long what had happened to the other boy.

Meanwhile, he moved first and foremost to the metal box that was under his bed, making sure that the two coconuts he'd bought, along with the necklace tucked neatly into that small box, had been placed there. Everything was as it should be, which meant that he could calm down and focus on his food.

It was a good thing that they were provided with water, since eating the curry wasn't going to be easy. Still, the lamb was delicious and so Sora was willing to bear some discomfort in order to eat it. It beat that pink stuff any day, for one thing.

m7

[composers-proxy.livejournal.com]

Neku was wary of being touched even by people he knew. So after the invasive pat-down before he got on the bus, his mood was sour enough. Why bother letting them spend money at all if they were just going to take it back? Now the soldiers were leading him to a new room.

"This isn't my room. Where the hell is Roxas?" he crossed his arms stubbornly outside the new door. He knew well enough that people disappeared from this place, but to throw this at him on top of everything else...

"Sent home," the soldier replied vaguely before giving him a firm push into the room. Neku went, but he didn't have to be happy about it. Sent home? Recovered? Home in this world? His own? Maybe he and Roxas hadn't been the tightest roomies, but he definitely didn't want this.

"Sora?"

M24

[human-sponge.livejournal.com]

Getting to know Wichita, at least somewhat, had been a nice way to end the day. The girl seemed capable enough to handle herself, and yet Peter still couldn't stop himself from worrying. He blamed it on Claire, since it was due to her that he'd gained this protectiveness over teenage girls.

Claire was the one who he wanted to make sure to watch over this night, though, and so after saying his goodbyes to Wichita, Peter got off of the bus and quickly hurried inside with a soldier-nurse (this whole dress-up thing was too weird) walking just ahead of him. It was only the suggestion of an escort, seeing how he knew his way around pretty well by now.

As he had already planned, dinner would be used to pack his new duffel bag with all of his medical supplies. Peter realized that he should get some food down first, since it had been a while since lunch time, but lamb curry wasn't his favorite and so he was only planning to eat a few bites. Still, he made sure that his bag was safe before he sat down, finding it set neatly next to that metal box that held the rest of his supplies.

"Good," he said to himself before moving back over to his desk. He wasn't sure that he and Sam were going to have a lot to discuss when they had just seen each other earlier that day, but he was sure they would find something. Peter didn't think that he'd yet had a moment where he couldn't think of something to talk about with his roommate, actually. He didn't see why that would change now.

But Sam seemed to be a bit delayed getting off the bus, and so Peter started in on his food, aiming to get it out of the way quickly.

[boyking]

As awkward as their meeting had been, Sam was actually kinda grateful for running into Peter when he had. Helping the kid out had taken his mind off a few things. Even if it hadn't lasted all that long, it was still a nice break from his own problems. He guessed he hadn't exactly stopped burying himself in problems, period, but at least he hadn't been buried in his own for once, right?

And tonight, he could bury himself in research. Alone, without Ruby or Dean or anyone else. The book he'd found at the store wasn't Nobel prize material (in fact, he wasn't even sure the writer had the proper credentials), but it was better than nothing. Besides, he'd solved cases using blogs and Wikipedia before. When it came to the supernatural, credentials were...not always what they were looking for.

Sam entered the room and flashed a smile at Peter in greeting. "Hey."

He set the book on his desk and sat down. He had to admit, it sucked to go back to crappy food after he'd gotten a break from it while he was in town. Since he wasn't planning on heading out tonight, he figured he could leave off eating for now. It wasn't like the gruel was gonna taste much different whether he ate it warm or cold, and Sam was used to skipping a meal here or there when he was on the road. Or had been on the road, anyway. He guessed it was pretty much past tense now.

M10

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

Officer Mike Meekins opened his eyes to greet yet another day full of excitement and adventure. Indeed, never a dull moment passed for someone who had to be on his toes all the time to avoid stumbling over them. Just yesterday, he had managed to misplace his badge, get his fingers caught in the front door of the Police Station, and walk right into Billy the Cactus. And on top of that, the new Chief of Police in Mr. Gant's stead had chosen that very same day to give Meekins an impromptu salary review, rendering Meekins' dreams of becoming a detective just like Dick Gumshoe more of steep, slippery slope that the security guard would surely slide down backwards upon his first step.

All in a day's work.

At least he survived it all as he did every day, which was much more than anyone would have expected of him. And today he would continue to beat those odds that seemed unfairly stacked against him. As long as he had a job to do, he would never give up on it. No matter how much the other officers would yell at him for bungling it, he would give it his all, as always. The teachers always did give him an "A" for effort for a reason!

Strange. Meekins knew that his memory wasn't the most reliable, but this white, window-less room that had the pungent aroma of bleach (which reminded him vaguely of swimming pools... which in turn reminded him of his former Police Chief) didn't look anything at all like his bedroom. What happened to the TV cabinet across the foot of his bed? Or the shelves stacked with Encyclopedia Brown books? Meekins hadn't even had a chance to solve any one of those mysteries on his own! His salary cut had made him cringe, but he didn't think it was bad enough to make the Police Department come and take away his precious worldly items!

And wait! A brusque voice over the public address system announced "lights out" within the hour, adding that a "general" would deliver a speech shortly.

It was then that he noticed a second bed in the room and a stranger in what appeared to be a military uniform standing between it and Meekins' bed. He'd never seen the man before, but the outfit reminded him of something from the past... Making no effort to hide his apprehension, the hapless security guard glanced down at himself to find that he was wearing the same uniform that the man was.

Oh no. This was way worse than having his property confiscated.

The Police Department had sent Meekins back to the Academy for remedial training.

[Continued next comment... man, breaking comment limit with this guy?! XD ]

Re: M10

[dork-at-duty.livejournal.com]

Worse yet... he'd overslept until evening! What an unfavorable first impression he must be making on the officer before him.

Remembering the decorum that he was required to show in front of his superiors, Meekins sat up straight in bed, his spine cracking from the sudden shift, and slammed the palm of his right hand into his forehead. "Sir! I am finally awake, Sir! I apologize for taking so long to wake up, Sir I am now ready to take your orders, Sir!"

No response. At least, none that Meekins had been able to hear. Maybe the man couldn't hear him. After all, Meekins didn't have his megaphone with him at the moment. He would definitely have to speak up. At the top of his lungs, Meekins addressed the stranger again, followed by another salute.

"SIR! I APOLOGIZE FOR NOT SPEAKING LOUDLY ENOUGH! I SAID THAT I AM AWAKE AND AM READY TO TAKE YOUR ORDERS, SIR!"

This time, it elicited a response. Meekins suddenly found himself forcibly pulled out of bed into a standing position (nearly toppling over the other man in the process). Then in a grunting tone of voice, the man finally addressed him.

"As punishment for your insolence, Mr. Bibbitt, you will not be allowed to sit down during daylight hours until until tomorrow's afternoon shift. Nor are you allowed to eat dinner tonight. Now! Stand up straight! Your roommate is arriving shortly."

Just like the Academy as Meekins remembered it, only meaner. And with his name wrong.

Wait a minute... That had to be the explanation! Someone had mixed him up with a Mr. Bibbitt. Just like how Meekins had mistaken Officer Marshall with Detective Goodman. An honest error, no doubt. It happened to the best of everyone.

"I... I beg your pardon, Sir, but... I'm-- I'm not--"

"Silence, idiot! This is your only warning. Now stand up and don't lean against anything. That is your order!"

It was all Meekins could do to keep himself from reflexively apologizing and answering "Yes, Sir!" to the man. His first day back at the Academy, and he'd already been penalized just for speaking. Maybe he really did need this remedial training after all.

As he waited for his roommate to show up, Meekins stood in the middle of the room, arms outstretched for balance. He could make it until "lights out" without falling over this time. There was always a first time for everything!

[Oh Canada~]

M50

[dualistic]

The conversation (if it could be called that) that he'd had on the bus had been both uncomfortable and bizarre. (Annoying probably fit in there somewhere too.) For that reason, Harvey was rather eager to get off of the vehicle and away from the strange boy who had decided to bother him.

However, there were no new purchases waiting for him in his room, seeing how everything he'd bought had been consumable. There was a plate of pink mush that looked the exact opposite of inviting, but Harvey was considering just skipping it since he'd managed to eat a good portion of those mashed potatoes.

Actually, it was an odd feeling, but there wasn't much for him to do. The trip down to the coliseum had been postponed, and for good reason -- but that meant that this night was going to be a resting one. He could either stay in his room or head over to Sangamon's place for some beer (and he had to admit he felt kind of stupid for not thinking to go buy some booze from the grocery store himself). The beer would probably be cheap, but he wasn't in a position to be picky anyway.

It was strange, not having a specific plan for the night, and Harvey wasn't sure if he liked it. Still, his body would thank him for it, and that thought was enough to move him over to his bed, where he laid on his good side and tried to forget about the pain that he was in. He needed to pull the bandages off of his face if nowhere else, but that could wait for now.

[herr-inspektor.livejournal.com]

A trip almost entirely without note in terms of danger or new oddities, with safe passage at the end. Lunge made his way back to his room in a quiet reverie, brow furrowed as he re-ran his memories of the day and combed through them for anything of note: there was the book store to consider of course, but other than that it had been a largely fruitless day. Which didn’t sit at all well with Inspector Lunge, of course. Time wasting was a terrible habit to get into.

The book store, though- that was something he should have noticed more quickly. He’d anticipated a lack of local history books and, as Jones had noted, national newspapers- not an entire section. No general history books, travel books, nothing that would give away so much as a hint towards the context of Doyleton and the world they’d fallen into. Did they even know what year it was here? What decade? Or, more chillingly, did it even matter?

‘Artificial’. He’d resisted the idea at first, but now he was having trouble seeing Doyleton as anything but false. In that case, what kind of an illusion was this place? Was it all real in the sense of it almost being like a film set, with actors in the role of townspeople? There was also a good chance that it was all created from that mysterious computer on the third floor they’d heard, too, though Lunge disliked entertaining that possibility for too long. There was still so much more he needed to know before he could start making decisions about methodology, particularly when it potentially was so far-fetched.

When he arrived at his room, Dent was already lying on the bed- a strange choice, considering he'd been upright most every other time he'd arrived. Lunge considered it for a moment, then took a seat. "Were you injured last night or today?" That would be a reasonable conclusion to draw.

M46

[bitpartgod.livejournal.com]

It was always strange coming back from Doyleton; what with his first experience of the place, it was difficult for Kibitoshin to think of it as anything but a big, nasty trap designed to lure him into a false sense of security and then spring something murderous on him the second he got distracted by the books or the nice people or the whole fascinating Earth-town experience. It really wasn't very fair at all.

At any rate, he was almost relieved to get back to his little room back at the Institute. It was dangerous, yes, but at least he could rely on it to be so; Doyleton was scary one day, sane the next, with no obvious rhyme or reason that he could follow. Why hadn't they left them there this week? Did the army decide not to or something?

Even so, as he sat down on his bed Kibitoshin couldn't help but wish he'd stuck to his gut and picked up one of the books he'd seen in the book store. He was still on uncertain territory with Sechs, and Franziska- his relationship with Franziska was a warground, pure and simple, and one that he'd no doubt lose if he didn't prepare himself. Maybe he could have done with a little more guidance on the matter, if only to prevent himself saying something stupid again and hurting both of their feelings all the more for it. These days it seemed like his foot was on a perpetual collision course to his mouth.

With a little sigh he flopped back, staring at the ceiling. Maybe Ritsu would have a few tips for him?

Re: M46

[gomenkudasai.livejournal.com]

Ritsu couldn't help but be in slightly better spirits than usual when he slipped into the room with his dinner - his cheeks even retained a bit of the color they'd gained during the day spent outdoors, making him look even more feminine than usual. He hadn't done much more than wander through the parks and poke his head shyly into a few shops, but something about seeing the town, being reminded that there was a world outside these walls, was enough to brighten his outlook somewhat.

And since he had somehow managed to keep himself from bothering any other patients on the trip, or causing any sort of disaster by being present, he only felt a little guilty about the fact that he had gotten some enjoyment out of the outting - though there was still that little part of him that was sure his lowly self was the last person in the world who should experience such a positive feeling. Even the meeting with Ilia-san in the pet shop had gone better than he expected - and though he was sure a good deal of it had to do with how kind and patient the woman was with one as unremarkable as he, thinking back on it still made him happy.

The young Sohma poked delicately at what was left of his meal, peering nervously over at his roomate and fidgeting with the same basic worries that plagued him at any long silence. He certainly didn't want to pester Kibitoshin if he were relaxing, and he was sure the other young man had far better things to focus his attention on than a conversation with this pathetic individual...but then, as usual, he didn't want to appear rude by not acknowledging the other's presence. Not to imply that manners were the only reason he would speak to the other - he was actually genuinely interested, and perhaps the glow of the day made him overly bold.

"U-um...Sorry to bother you, but..." He finally murmured, turning to face the room and bowing low very low, hands clasped in his lap. He didn't rise until he was finished talking, though when he did, it was with a soft, shy smile on his lips. "Kibitoshin-san, how are you?"

M57

[zack-fair.livejournal.com]

Somehow, Zack had managed to get through that conversation with Aidou without getting his head bitten off, which he considered a victory, albeit a small one. They also all made it back into the institute without any zombies ambushing, which was something he could be grateful for. Heading back to his room, though, Zack found that it was unoccupied and his roommate's bed was empty and neatly made.

"Terra..."

He'd only spoken to the kid once and he hadn't really known what his deal was or why he'd thought that they knew each other, but he'd still believed him. It was a shame that they hadn't gotten to know each other better, and that Zack's pattern of going through roommates like he went through hair gel was continuing.

It made it hard to even put on a happy face for whoever might be coming through the door next, and yet Zack knew that he had to. It wasn't like he could tell his roommate that there was a good chance that he wouldn't be hanging around for long, after all.

Letting out a sigh, Zack went to the metal box near his bed and dug out his batteries, moving them into his desk so that he would have easy access. It occurred to him that the soldiers were probably going to move it back into the box every morning, though, which was mildly annoying.

There wasn't much he could do about that, though, and so Zack sat himself down to eat his gruel, keeping one eye on the door.

Re: M57

[in-your-defense.livejournal.com]

When Phoenix had entered the Institute once more, he'd worried that he would be forced back into the military outfit - but as time passed and he was guided back to the area where the men's rooms were kept, he realized that the worry was unfounded and he was being allowed to wear what they had given him that morning. A relieved emotion flooded Phoenix, though he had to wonder if there was a reason why they hadn't forced him to change back - a kindness, or was there a purpose?

The soldier hadn't said much to Phoenix, only enough to direct him to follow him, and once they arrived at M57 the soldier stopped. "Your room," the soldier said simply, before he opened the door expectantly, as if he wanted to make sure that Phoenix was going to enter. Stepping inside, Phoenix was greeted with the sight of an identical room to what he had awoken in the previous night (though most of it was memorable merely by how it had felt) - and the door was pulled shut and locked behind him as he stepped past it.

Standing there for a moment awkwardly, Phoenix's gaze was quickly caught by the sight of the man sitting upon one of the beds. He looked young, with long, black, spiky hair that Phoenix couldn't help but to compare to his own - and the defense attorney tried to summon up a convincing smile, as he wanted to make a good first impression. "Hey," he said in greeting, as he took a few steps into the smallness of the room.

As Zack was preoccupied with eating, Phoenix didn't offer a hand to shake, as he didn't want to force him to balance trying to eat with trying to match the gesture. Phoenix couldn't help but to notice the pinkness of the food he was eating, however - a cross between pepto bismol and the slime toys he used to play with when he was a child. Sitting himself down on the bed opposite of Zack, Phoenix rested his hands on the edge of the mattress. "That looks delicious," Phoenix commented wryly, as he watched Zack spoon up some of the substance. "I didn't know they made us eat colors around here."

M39

[freewill]

And so the field trip had passed without much incident. The most noteworthy thing that had happened was speaking with Dean, but that was something that could have happened back in the institute as well. The small town had proved that they were far from any real civilization, and the tight lips of the sheriff and his men had caused Castiel to suspect that there was a cover-up of sorts going on. Either that, or it was pure ignorance.

He had learned a few things, but he'd been hoping to get more from the town. It was likely that he had been anticipating too much, especially with how his investigation had been going prior to the trip.

All Castiel could do was focus on the future, warped as it might be. None of them were supposed to be here -- that much he could be certain of. And yet they were, so he was going to have to work through it, near singlehandedly.

Tonight he would meet with Orihara, simply because he needed to achieve some sort of progress. The following day he would attempt to continue working at Dean, though for the moment he had to label Sam a lost cause. There was only so much he could do, especially in this place.

With his assigned room empty for the moment save for a plate of gruel, Castiel already found himself missing the meal he'd had earlier in the day. He took in the pink substance, staring it down as if it could come to life at any moment. After half a minute or so had passed, the angel finally gave in and picked up his plastic spoon.

F11

[unit67.livejournal.com]

Her dreams were the same as always, never quite nightmares but never the alternative, aside from one vital exception: Lily was not aware of falling asleep. There had been no bed, no sheets, only the cold roughness of cracked concrete and Heine and Giovanni's voices followed by light, wakefulness. No one had drugged her, no one had moved her into this place. She touched the sheets, understanding that the texture was different from the texture she was used to, and overhead the light cast a slightly yellow-tinged glow, warmer than the stark white she saw every day.

Lily was afraid.

Had she gotten them in trouble? Heine and Giovanni, but especially Heine since he'd been the one to stop her. She knew they could withstand anything but it was impossible not to worry about friends, especially after a blackout like the one she'd just experienced.

There were two beds, but the room was empty aside from her. Lily stood up, noting her unfamiliar clothing and the strangeness of the room--if she wasn't so used to the subtle tells of dreams, she might have suspected she was having one. The closet was yanked open, drawers were pulled to their limits. The changes told her that she had to get to the others, that time was running short, especially if Heine and Giovanni had been separated for what had happened.

Patience did not come easy to her, but she waited. Ignored the dark voice and waited. Something would happen, there'd be a sign, even if it was something as subtle as scrapes against the floor.

Lily continued to wait, back against one of the closed closet doors while she listened for sounds of approaching footsteps.


[Lily isn't wearing the collar she has in her icon...she's just a bit airheaded and hasn't noticed it yet]

[lovecraftcomplex]

Something was happening. Indeed, the thing that was happening was entirely predictable, based on the footsteps outside. The door opened, and two people entered, one substantially shorter than the other.

Rose hadn't survived thirteen years in a house with her mother without learning something about ambushes. Her familiar, if such a word was appropriate for a soldiernurse who was about as hyperintelligent as a park squirrel, had dropped the keyword roommate into what passed for a conversation these days. No roommate was in evidence, so she pressed herself against the wall of the entrance.

This wasn't a long-term strategy. Even less so in the harsh light of broad fluorescent fauxdaylight. Hmm. Rolling into the center might dislodge her coat, necessitating lengthy explanations-cum-diatribes on the nature of wizards, or, to whit, Rose Lalonde's feigned dislike thereof. She bounced, instead, and landed on her feet, ready to see what the game had in store for her this time.

M4

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

It was a rather sad state when one's waking dreams - those dreams offered up at the moment of waking, to ensure they are remembered by the dreamer - were nothing but the stresses and trials of the coming day. Young King Tolten Uhra found himself coming slowly conscious and already contemplating the rather unpleasant meeting with the ambassadors from what remained of Khent. By his great ancestor, what was he going to say to them? 'I'm sorry I destroyed your entire country and wiped out most of your people, actually, funny story about that….'

Every day, new repercussions were rearing their ugly heads. And he could do nothing but muddle through, try and keep his wits about him, and pray he didn't muck up too badly. And to be fair to himself, he hadn't lost his composure entirely in front of anyone important. He did have a rather unpleasant sore on the inside of his cheek from biting it, but compromises had to be made. And anyway, he had to accept his part in things. He had made mistakes, he had been foolish, and he had allowed himself to be blinded and used. The blood of the various wars Uhra had initiated were on his hands as much as his father's or any Councilmen or advisors. The least he could do was own up to his own actions.

Tolten had finally reached something close to consciousness as his mind turned things over as every morning. He began his normal upon waking checklist, and suddenly the issues with the Khent were far from his mind.

All limbs in tact? Yes, good. I'm in my own bed….no. No I'm not. It was too narrow, too hard, too…common. Tolten's first instinct was to panic. He kept his eyes closed and clamped down hard on that thought. Perhaps he'd sleepwalked. He hadn't done so since he was small, but it was a possibility. He was under a great deal of stress, after all. Perhaps one of his less-than-thoughtful friends had decided to play a bit of a joke. But neither Jansen nor Sed were anywhere near Uhra, and neither of them would go to such complex lengths simply to bother him. Their sense of humor was far more base and direct - besides, their little 'jokes' were harmless and immediately identifiable.

So perhaps he'd been kidnapped by those vaguely referenced revolutionary factions he had been warned about all of his life. He'd never seen any evidence of them, but enough people had mentioned it that he supposed there was some active faction against him. Either way, there was only one thought to hold on to at the moment.

Don't panic. Do not panic. Whatever you do, Tolten, you will not panic. Just…think a moment. What would Jansen do? Or Seth?

Neither of the answers to those questions were at all applicable to the situation. Tolten was neither mage nor immortal. He supposed he could enthusiastically complain very loudly until….

He wasn't able to get any further due to a voice interrupting. An entirely unfamiliar voice at that. Lights out? The general? Was…was he somehow in the barracks? No, because when he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, he was entirely befuddled. This wasn't a familiar place at all! It was a simple room, with simple furniture and…apparently another occupant, as there was a similar bed across the way.

"What on earth…?" He wasn't even dressed as he had been when he went to bed. Someone had…undressed him and then…then redressed him in some sort of military uniform? No one had any right to lay hands upon him, let alone....disrobe him! The mere thought of some stranger being so close as to not only remove his clothes, but see him in such a state....

Perhaps I'm still dreaming. Stress could do strange things to the psyche, and waking dreams weren't an unfamiliar concept. And he would much prefer a dream to a reality that someone had gone so far as to transgress his personal sanctity!

But in dreams, at least there was always something familiar. Nothing here held a hint of familiarity or comprehension. It was alien and came from somewhere other than simply a stressed young king's overworked mind.

Re: M4

[age-of-kings.livejournal.com]

This wasn't a dream, it wasn't a joke, and it wasn't sensible in the least. He was the king of Uhra! How could he be simple whisked away in the dead of night without knowing? Even with magic, he liked to think he'd be aware. And how many mages that powerful were even left in the world now? Her Majesty? Jansen?

Sighing heavily, Tolten swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat, hands on either side of himself to brace his weight. His head hung limply between his shoulders and he forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. He was feeling rather woozy...

Perhaps luck would be on his side, and someone would come to speak to him soon. At least then he could properly assess what (if any) sort of danger he was in.

M63

[nobleman]

When the bus finally rolled its way up to the unloading area, Guy still hadn't calmed down after what he'd been put through on the bus. Dammit! Sync usually couldn't get under his skin that much, but when exploiting his phobia, it was almost too easy. He didn't know if the God-General had planned that with Erika or if it had just been a case of extremely bad luck, but Guy didn't really care.

He was still shaking even though he'd managed to move away from the two, the bus suddenly feeling claustrophobic. He should have been enjoying the feel of the engine, but instead he got off of the vehicle as quickly as he could, sweating and fighting back pangs of nausea.

He would be able to level himself out once he got back to his room, and he knew that, so Guy made his way there as quickly as he could. Trying to push back both his fear and his anger was not easy, however, and half of his thoughts were dedicated to the fact that all he wanted to do at that moment was find Sync and wring his neck.

Eating wasn't a possibility after all of that, and so when Guy saw the blissfully empty room, he made a beeline for the bed and fell onto it. He wasn't even interested in securing his purchases at the moment; he just needed a moment to breathe, to enjoy the silent space and let his mind clear.

Okita showing up wouldn't be a bad thing, since his roommate had a talent for helping him calm down. Guy wished that he could serve the same role in return, but he'd never quite been able to pull that off. He was more open than Okita was, which was really saying something since he had his share of secrets.

F23

[arakhnes.livejournal.com]

She had been wearing her costume.

That was the first thing she noticed when she stirred awake, eyes blinking blearily at the dim, yellow light. She had been wearing her costume and now, she was in some sort of military-esque uniform. Not similar to her SHIELD uniform, but something different. More traditional. The second thing she noticed was that she didn't remember falling asleep. No, she definitely hadn't gone to bed. And the third thing?

She didn't know where she was. Alarms were going off at this note in her head and she was scrambling up, eyes darting around wildly, panic immediately setting in. There was a woman speaking over an intercom, saying something about "lights out", but the last time she had woken up in some unknown place, some strange room, was when she was created and it was rather hard to think of anything once those thoughts were settled in her head. How did she get captured again? Was she here for some sort of experimentation? That -- that had to be it. There was no other reasons. But it was becoming more and more difficult to even consider the possibilities when the only thing screaming at her was she had woken up in some foreign place.

Jessica had to get out of here. Words were escaping her lips before she could help it: "No, no, no..." and she knew it was a bad idea to speak, in case her voice or tone could be used against her.

Was she taken again? These -- the beds were hospital beds. Notice the details, take in her surroundings, remember her training. She had to be -- Doc Ock or Ben Reilly or someone, Roxxon, was she in their possession again? She was finding it hard to be even remotely rational as she got out of the bed, gaze moving at the bed across from hers. For someone else, but it was empty. Either they hadn't arrived yet, or she was staying in a two-person room solo.

Not staying, she reminded herself. But she was finding it really hard to be optimistic right now.

Re: F23

[witchoftruth]

Today was such a good day that Erika was entertaining the notion of bullying Yukari, although she wasn't sure what ammunition she had against her roommate. Maybe she could beat her to the room and hide the contents of her box or something. After all, going back into the room meant she had to go back to looking at that disgusting slop again...Could she last a whole week without any food? It was supposed to be possible, but Erika knew it was dangerous to try it, especially when she had plans.

But it wasn't like that slop was going to help her either. It'd be more or less like starving... Maybe. She attempted to ask if the slop was edible, only to receive a curt reply that it had everything "necessary to function." Well, that was helpful. Maybe it would be best to try and eat it when she was in a good mood.

That was her original idea, but the detective paused when she entered the room and found that she was already beaten to her room. And the girl who was already here was not Yukari. Erika's brow immediately quirked - Yukari hadn't shown any signs of psychosis, but perhaps things worked out differently under military rule. Whereas Nunnally might have broken, Yukari might have just been unfit.

Erika pondered for a moment, and then she spoke up.

"Who are you?"

M1; AVERT YOUR EYES READERS!

[monkeyboy]

It hadn't taken long to return back at the institute, especially when you had a grizzled old man to gape at. But eventually he refused to keep talking and Goku had to wait out the remainder of the trip fidgeting.

Soon enough, the buses came to whining halt and then began the mass exodus of patients back into the institute for dinner.The monkey boy would have been more excited if he didn't know the food that awaited him was nothing close to appetizing. He'd rather chew on a tree frankly. At least trees sometimes had fungus that made bark taste kinda funny. Or sometimes it would numb your tongue! Yeah, that was so much more fun!

But first, Goku was getting out of these stupid clothes. He put up no fuss with his guard tonight, wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. Once inside, he began tearing his clothes off like a madman and ran naked to his wardrobe for something more roomy.

"Are?" He opened the doors and all that he could find were the stiff shirts and pants he had to wear in the mornings. Closing the closet, he began wandering around without purpose until he finally just sat on his bed. Naked was always the best way to go when it came down to it. Bulma couldn't pitch a fit and Krillin wasn't here to stop him.

[escapedpandora.livejournal.com]

The staff's treatment seemed even worse the moment they arrived back at the hospital... if it really was a hospital, anyway. Hope hadn't the time to fully examine it that morning, being as disoriented as he had been. But he wasn't given the time to do so now, either, see as he was just pushed around by the staff who kept silent every time he tried to ask a question. It didn't matter if he tried to be polite or if he yelled at them, it seemed. They seemed keen only on herding him around, grabbing onto his arm tightly when he tried to deviate from the steps, nearly tripping from the soaked hem of his jeans.

Maybe it was because it was still his first day here, but they pushed him straight into a room he wasn't sure he had been in before-- had it been the room they managed to grab him from in the morning? He wasn't sure.

Not that he wasn't ready to pitch a fit, only halted by the fact that his entire day had been one giant roller coaster emotionally and he wasn't quite on stable ground mentally.

"You could have just said you were taking me back to the room!" Hope protested stubbornly even as the harried staff (guard? soldier? doctor?) shoved him in the room and slammed the door afterward.

He startled, though, eyes wide as he saw the other boy-- no way. They weren't getting strip-searched too, were they? The search before they got on the bus had been bad enough. There was no way he was going to let people that close to him.

M8

[kings_thief]

Locke had been sleeping pretty peacefully, his dreams more on the pleasant side for once and, if he had had a say in it, he would have stayed that way. Of course, outside forces decided he'd slept enough.

He had just barely opened his eyes when someone grabbed his arm and 'helped' him from his bed to his feet. He glared up at the guy who looked to be some sort of military man with an odd uniform.

"What the hell?! Who are you?"

That's when the smell hit him, it reeked of things unnatural, and suffocating. It wasn't just the smell that was wrong, the room was all white and there was no breeze from the window he'd opened before going to sleep, largely because there was no window. Shock and apprehension ran through him as he came to the realization that he'd never been in this place before; he couldn't recognize it.

"You overslept and your roommate will be arriving shortly."

"What roommate? I don't know what you're talkin' about. What is this place?"

The guard guy, who was really starting to annoy the thief, gave a patronizing sigh.

"Not now, Mr. Swanson, I don't have the patience. Now, just wake up and wait quietly. They'll be here soon."

Locke huffed, biting back a comment about already being awake and took a step back from the guy, trying to re-establish what personal space he could while he took in his surroundings. The room was plain, and there was definitely another bed and another desk on the other side of the room, so the 'roommate' part wasn't a lie.

The next, and a bit more personally disturbing, thing Locke noticed was his clothes; they were not the same as the ones he usually wore. Even his beloved gloves and bandana were gone.

Whatever this place was, they'd changed his clothes, stuck him in some unfamiliar, reeking, room with a guy who was clearly under some delusion of superiority. Locke was feeling really unsettled by his confusion. He could only hope this 'roommate' would either be one of his friends or, at least, someone who could clear things up a bit.

[the-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately, the day hadn't made Edgeworth's situation any less hazy - the answers he had received had only raised further questions, and the prosecutor was beginning to wonder if he truly had gone insane - and by the time he had been ushered back to his room he felt completely emotionally and physically exhausted. The pat down he had received hadn't been his first, but that fact hadn't made it any more pleasant - if anything, it had made him more uneasy. If night shifts required such intensive protection, why had Anise insisted that they look for items that would have been taken away immediately?

Edgeworth's streaming thoughts came to a halt as the door to a room (his room?) opened, revealing a guard and someone he assumed to be a fellow patient - a man who looked to be about the same age as he was, with hair not unlike his own, wearing an expression of deep confusion that Edgeworth was sure that he had mirrored earlier that morning - and once the prosecutor had been sufficiently herded back into the room the guard offered a final sneer to Locke before exiting the room, the heavy door shutting with a loud click.

A thick, awkward silence permeated through the room at Edgeworth scrutinized his roommate, neither taking a step towards his own bed nor towards the man himself, his brow furrowing lightly in thought as he sized up the situation. Although Edgeworth wanted nothing more in that moment but to remove the horrid clothes he had been given, the uniform remaining on his dresser didn't seem at all favorable - which brought him to the question of why this man was still dressed in a uniform, the contradiction ultimately leading Edgeworth into breaking the ice. "...did they not provide you with any other sort of attire?" he asked carefully in the hopes of hiding his ignorance on the off-chance that the man wasn't new - though the evidence he was providing with the sheer amount of incredulity and confusion on his face didn't seem to give Edgeworth much in the way of doubt.

M74

[heroesdontshave]

Back. Back to the same stupid prison they'd all been shoved into. Walking around the village made it pretty easy to forget that this was what they all had waiting for them at the end of the day. Just a big reminder all over again of where they were and why. It was even worse after getting to walk around free for a while. It made you not want to go back at all (not that he'd want to ever). It made you want to resist. And so when his usual soldier guy decided to come lead him back to the rooms, Snow didn't just immediately follow along like a trained dog. He glared at him and stood right where he was for a few moments, fists clenched. And the soldier guy only watched him, unafraid.

He didn't like it. Any of it. But he'd already tried this before. He knew what would happen. Even if he had a tendency to just barrel forward and let his emotions take over, he wasn't going to do it if he was aware of the fact that it wouldn't work. And it wouldn't. Not right then, anyway. He had to wait for an opening. He had to wait for their guards to drop. And unfortunately, that moment was not now, no matter how much he was itching to fight back.

Snow followed along silently for now, expression making it plenty obvious he wasn't happy about doing so. They dropped him off in that same room and he gave them one last look before they closed the door behind him. ...They were gonna be opening the doors soon anyway. He would just hold out until then. For now, he guessed he'd just have a seat and eat his dinner. Which looked like the same pink thing from yesterday. Weird they wouldn't change it from day to day but... oh well.

[brb-burgers.livejournal.com]

To say that the manhandling and escorting he'd been subject to since his arrival here was invasive would be an understatement. They were everywhere and he was, inwardly, impressed with them despite himself. Really, whoever they must belong to they must be proud of them. He couldn't help but smirk and go through the motions, amused with the turn of events and rather placated by lunch. Nothing could beat burgers and fries, though he was beginning to get hungry again.

Upon entering, however his room didn't have that same vacated feeling which had him glancing directly to the opposite side of the room. Disappointment didn't rear its ugly head because this time, finally, he saw someone who wasn't a soldier, nurse, doctor or fellow nation--al. Pleasant surprise was plain on his face and he grinned broadly, approaching his roommate.

"Hey!" blond and blue eyed, he was sort of surprised to note just how very... tall, he was. This was in no way a detriment, the bigger the better was a popular motto amongst his own. So he happily held his hand out for handshake. "Name's Al Jones! Seems we've just been missing each other," truth be told he'd secretly been quite curious about the guy he'd be sharing living space with.

M55

[sixth-attack.livejournal.com]

The flurry of snow had engulfed the night by the time Sechs and his fellow prisoners were transported past the possessive gates of the institute. As they were herded out of the bus, the blistering cold was like an invisible creature, gnawing away at every inch of exposed skin on Sechs' shivering body. He could feel the drug in his spine stirring, it's blackened mass shifting slowly inside; Sechs knew the effects of his "M-U" was sure to arrive early no thanks to the weather, and he cursed it under his breath as he was herded back into the institute.

As the Replica was shoved and pushed to his room by the soldiers, Sechs kept his temper under wraps as his motivated himself with the promise of another night ahead. Tonight, Sechs wasn't going to fool around! Not a single moment of napping for him! He was going to stay awake and make the most of the night, unlike his accidental sleep-in yesterday. Not a second of shut-eye! Nope! He was going to eat his dinner, get his armor on, and get out into the hallway and...

Yet as soon as Sechs was back in his room and had sat down at his desk, the first step to his plan turned out to be a steep speed bump. Tonight's dinner was comprised mainly of incomprehensible mush and gruel. Ugh...! It was a total insult to the glorious Big Tasty Burger combo that Sechs had feasted on earlier that day! What the hell was this stuff supposed to be anyways?!

With his first plan for the night spoiled, Sechs could only glower at the disgusting excuse for "food" on his plate, glumly picking away at it with his fork as he pouted and grumbled to himself.

Re: M55

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

((Gah. This is so late. I'm sorry. ;;))

The promise of having his items returned to him upon arriving back in his room proved to be true, and Sai carefully checked over his earlier purchases. His roommate was temporarily ignored as he made certain both packages of cigarettes were whole. He wouldn't be using them himself, but they'd be a gold mine to someone else. The lighter was as it should be, none of the liquid inside missing, and the backpack didn't seem to have suffered any wear. All in all, he didn't think he'd gotten off too poorly that day. He'd just have to see if his decisions paid off later.

As a higher ranking member of the patient body, the ninja was given a far better meal for the night than his roommate. Whereas the night before he'd been unable to properly offer it, he took the opportunity now. Without a word, he picked up his tray and set it on the desk in front of Sechs. "Here. We can exchange."

He hadn't yet tried the gruel, but he assumed it had nutrition enough, and he wasn't exactly picky when it came to taste. This was a ninja who preferred tofu to most things, after all.

M20

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Looking back, Kratos had to say that this field trip had proved to be much more useful than any of the others previous, even if it had been only by the good graces of their captors. He still had some suspicions, though, about the true intent behind giving them spending money, and the evening announcement served only to strengthen them. It sounded as if they would be conducting some sort of test tonight from all that talk about preparations and properly stationed personnel. His thoughts, of course, went first to whether or not he could say that he'd recovered sufficiently to even participate - hah, acting as if he had a choice. It was a difficult call to make, even though it boiled down to whether or not he wanted to play things safe, in which case, he would merely take another night off to recover.

Kratos sighed as he entered his room, momentarily brushing aside the issue of his health and immediately walking over to his bed in order to inspect the possessions box that had once again found its way onto his bed and the bag sitting next to it. There it was...he lifted the holster from the bag and picked up his sword, carefully sliding the blade into the slot. It was a tight fit, but he was still able to pull the sword free relatively easily, and with repeated use, the leather would soften. He nodded in approval as he set the blade down again next to his bed and turned his attention to dinner.

He'd had steak for lunch, and now he had...it seemed like curry, judging from the smell. Pulling the desk chair out, Kratos sat down at his desk and stared at the plate of food for a few seconds before taking a small bite. He could help but pull a face: the flavor was nearly overwhelming. Still, though, he needed to eat. Steeling himself for something like sensory overload, he scooped up another forkful of curry.

M12

[rocksthecourt]

If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was that they had been truthful about returning their purchased items once they'd returned to their rooms. Klavier was in a pretty mellow mood at the moment and didn't exactly feel like pitching a fit at the staff right then. It would be nice to continue like this and simply relax before the doors opened again... and it became impossible to remain calm for too long. Sigh.

He also had eaten plenty in town and could safely ignore the mess they had served again for dinner. It was ridiculous by this point. Were they planning to serve them nothing but this same pink monstrosity every day now? Why? If they were really trying to cultivate them into soldiers, giving them proper food would be essential. Unless they simply enjoyed taking what little pleasantries they could possibly enjoy during the day.

Regardless, he ignored his desk. Instead, he picked up the guitar leaning on his side of the room and carefully returned it to its proper sanctuary in the closet. The metal box itself was also placed in as well as the contents of his grocery bag, all neatly piled on the floor of his closet. All he left out was the grocery bag itself and the metal pipe. His supplies for the night ahead. With that all settled, he went to his desk to take out his notebook.

He really needed to decide what he was going to focus on this evening. Some progress had been made yesterday, but it was still nowhere near enough. He needed to learn more about this place. But where to even begin?

[saviored]

Since he'd consumed his purchase, the only item he had returned was the book his little brother had thoughtfully purchased, which his always talkative escort threw over without a word. Damon caught it and swung open the door to his room. The rustling told him that his roommate was already inside and sure enough, Herr Blondie was at his desk, chronicling his innermost feelings for the day.

His gaze swept over the grocery bag as he walked by it. "How was retail therapy?"

Insofar as that town even counted as retail. Did the locals just rely on Amazon.com or was there a hidden underground network of actual shopping? Come to think of it, were their six year olds all doing online distance ed, as well, or what? He'd found a town or two that was too small to have a college. He'd never found one too small to have a school, period. If there'd ever been a reason to label a town a setup, well. There you were.

As usual, he didn't give a second look at the food. Instead, he tossed the copy of Gone with the Wind on top of the dresser and got onto the bed without bothering to kick off his boots. After a moment, he picked up the book, flipping open the cover absently.

Stefan, he knew, was worried. Not about him, of course; about the rest of the surrounding population. That was the only reason why his brother was going out of his way to play nice. Hardly the first time Stefan had done this. It would pass, and then they'd rinse and repeat. That was the problem with eternity: after awhile, you realized things didn't ever change or grow, they just cycled forever.

M34

[nonheinous.livejournal.com]

The wild construction of dreams slid aside into the stillness of waking life, tinged with the memory of a voice. Some announcement, Ted thought vaguely, blearily opening his eyes to face an unfamiliar room.

He blinked, and bolted up in bed.

This was totally not his room. Ted looked around in growing panic, fully awake now, taking in his sparse surroundings. There was another bed, empty for now. Two closets, desks...

The sensation of unfamiliar fabric against his skin drove his gaze down. He wasn't in his usual clothes. Ted grabbed at the crisp light-blue shirt and regarded the rest of his outfit with dismay. Someone had stuck him in some military uniform.

Military uniform... military school...

"No way!" Ted gasped out. His dad must have drugged and kidnapped him as a last resort, dragging his unconscious form off to this place while he wasn't conscious enough to protest.

"No," he repeated, climbing out of bed. "This is not happening!" He stumbled and fell as his legs got entangled in the sheets. Ted winced, trying to crawl away.

He had to get out. There had to be a way out. He wasn't going to stay here in some bogus military school when he and Bill were so close to becoming the most triumphant rock band in history. They had a world to save-

Something scratched against his chest. Ted paused in his frantic attempts to dislodge his legs from the bedding and investigated it.

There were dog tags hanging around his neck. He pulled them out from beneath his shirt for closer examination, reading the text engraved on them:

Charlie Reeves
S Class
02061989M

"Charlie Reeves?" he repeated in puzzlement. That was not his name.

...No, it was probably just the brand of dog tag. Yeah, that made sense. He wondered if Eddie Van Halen made dog tags. That would be most outstanding. He would totally wear dog tags with Eddie Van Halen's name on them. Ted grinned.

Then he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and the grin faded as he remembered where he was.

[moral-liberty.livejournal.com]

Kaworu expected nothing of the evening. The day had passed, the night would begin, and nothing would happen. The town had been different only from a limited perspective. It too was part of a larger routine, free of choice, free of expectation. Everything was circular. Still, there were moments that he valued. Shinji's presence was always welcome, Stefan was a friend, Depth Charge was kind, and Castiel was unique. These were things he would remember, even if the setting in which they took place was unremarkable.

It was perhaps the reason that he valued these moments more. It was not only Shinji or Ayanami that were remarkable, but all that he spoke to. They all held unfamiliar life and depth that he couldn't entirely understand. He didn't think that he would ever be satisfied, now that he had begun to pay attention. And yet, the days passed without holding any merit of their own.

It was this that made the new presence in his room more surprising than it should have been. His roommate had changed before. That soothed the unexpected feeling of staring into the face of a stranger. This new person was not unwelcome, though he could imagine that this situation was not desirable to him.

"Are you new?" he asked immediately, and belatedly smiled with sympathy. Kaworu hoped the other could see it, but was unsure if his intentions ever found their way to his face and words. Only Shinji welcomed them without question, and without that hesitant glance.

M13

[doctor-voodoo.livejournal.com]

Well, that day had certainly proved interesting... At least when it came to the people Facilier had come across. The town itself was nothing but a cold, backward, ridiculously expensive dump that made Facilier terribly homesick for good 'ol New Orleans.

So far, the past two nights had proven fruitless when it came to escaping. Just when Facilier was on his way outside or past a certain boundary, time would seem to halt beyond his consciousness and he would find himself back in his room the following morning. Just what was he doing wrong?

So by the time Facilier had been returned to his room (with more of that disgusting gruel waiting for him on the desk no less), Facilier had decided that tonight would be a night of exploration than just escaping (unless such an opportunity did come along..) He needed a better idea of the place he was dealing with. He was also shamefully out of supplies, and if he were to try and contact his "friends", he was going to need any workable materials he could get to set up a summoning ritual. But where in the institute could he find such things...?

Sitting down at his desk and raising a brow with disgust at the "food" before him, Facilier's fingers itched for his tarot cards. Most of the time he got his answers from his special deck of the magical cards, but they too had gone missing since he found himself in the institute. Facilier had never felt so... lost like this before, at least not since the days before he first dabbled with his dark magical arts. So far Facilier had gathered pieces of information about the institute from various sources, all of which became infuriatingly confusing when put together. It was all so frustrating! He badly wished he had a clearer perspective on everything, but his lack of magic clouded his new life in the institute like a thick fog...

M73

[stlg13bomber.livejournal.com]

Pink goo again. Carter almost wished he'd spent his money on some decent canned meat. But the books were more important and the coffee with Claire was...well. That was important too.

He waited with eager excitement until the boxes were brought around again. Nestled between his precious crowbar and a small pile of dog biscuits were the two books, bright and shining, and Carter grabbed them before the box was even set down. Rockets, first. He pulled the bowl close and spread the book out across his lap.

"Wonder what they're preparing for," he murmured, turning the first page. The book was directed at a young audience, and had more pictures than words, which was just about Carter's speed.