damned_institute | Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

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Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

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! ]

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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.

Edited 2011-05-24 09:56 (UTC)

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.

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...

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.

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.

Edited 2011-05-24 14:23 (UTC)

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.

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?"

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.

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 ]

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~]

Edited 2011-05-25 04:19 (UTC)

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.

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?

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.

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.

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]

Edited 2011-05-24 18:52 (UTC)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

At first, Sora only heard muffled voices outside of his room, though when the door opened he was quick to turn in his chair in hopes that he would see Minato's face. Who he saw instead was still someone familiar, and yet he was just as shocked as Neku was.

"Neku," he replied, his tone a bit more reserved if only because he was already starting to put two and two together. Neku and Roxas had been roommates, so the only reason that Neku would have been moved here was if Roxas was--

Sora clenched his jaw, holding back his questions until the soldier who had brought Neku here left them alone. His mouth was burning from the spicy food, so he took a drink of water and then regarded the other boy with a frown. "Where's Roxas? Do you know? Did you see him this morning?" He hadn't seen Roxas for the whole trip, but he'd figured that they were just missing each other, since it was pretty easy to do. He hadn't seen Kairi either, after all, so --

Wait. Did that mean she was gone too?

He was getting ahead of himself, assuming things that he shouldn't have been, but Sora had lost so many people here that it was hard not to think of it. He was glad that Neku was okay, of course, but what about his Other? And more than that, how had he not somehow felt that Roxas was gone? Not that he had any of the other times, but still...

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.

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.

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Day 56: Intercom, Late Evening

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M1; AVERT YOUR EYES READERS!

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