DAY 65: Breakfast

[envy_the_sinners]

Scar came to slowly, vision blurred and head throbbing. His memory of the previous night was vague and somewhat scattered. What he was most aware of was his renewed and increased hatred for the man called Lingormr. The Ishbalan didn't give a damn if he had been a special counseling patient. That bastard had enjoyed every second of tearing Scar to shreds. What he may or may not have realized was how much it had affected Scar emotionally. He had felt a renewed sense of drive at the start of the night; the disruption on the intercom and the news of the 'cure' had rekindled a fire that fueled Scar to drive forward. To have a little hope.

Lingormr had promptly crushed that.

He was in pain. So much pain. The cut on his hand was only fading scab at this point, but stitches now pulled at the deep gashes in his legs and back. Not only had the nausea not settled, but his stomach was beginning to cramp. The rash on his arm was impossible to hide without the old bandages covering it. It had nearly reached his elbow.

Scar's hazy eyes could make out the nurse, now pushing a wheelchair up to his bedside. This was humiliating. And he was too exhausted and hurting to lash out or become angry. He was just broken. He still tried to take some sort of grudging control, insisting that he didn't need to be pushed around, that he could at least turn the wheels of the damned chair himself. But he didn't make it down the hallway before the pulling and sharp pain in his back became so obvious on his face that the nurse took over.

He entered breakfast with a frustrated, tired, but overall defeated look to him. Scar felt too sick to eat. He sat at the table and brooded, wishing more than anything to simply be left alone.

[For Goku!]

Comments

[complicatedliar]

To say Loki was unhappy was an understatement.

He'd had his feel of feeling as if he was being controlled already. To think that some petty mortal had done such a thing to him was not something he could stomach. And then to have to be polite to that very same mortal, to play nice--!

The game was long. He had to play it out to its end. He'd be the one laughing then.

And of course, now things were even more complicated because it had been revealed to the other prisoners that he was more than a simple scholar. At least he'd already admitted as much to Soma and Sora, so he could work with that. If nothing else, it set up for a logical set of lies for how he'd have to proceed.

But it was very, very annoying nonetheless. He didn't like having mortals interfering with plans. He had little choice, though.

Play the long game.

He managed to be pleasant to the nurse who fetched him, swallowing down his anger at the wound that had been done to his pride and his carefully built facade. The anger made a hot ball in his stomach, however, which made him even less interested in eating than normal. He obviously needed to, however; with as much magic as he'd used the previous night, it was necessary. He forced himself to fill a plate and then sat, on the opposite end of the room from Scar.

Well, that at least was a pleasant bit of the memories from last night. He couldn't help a brief smirk, as he passed the man, which he quickly wiped from his face, so fast that anyone who saw it might think they'd imagined it.

He sat on the opposite side of the room and started picking at his breakfast, shoulders hunched. The dejected, stressed pose was an act, he told himself. But it wasn't, not entirely. He was upset, particularly that he'd hurt some people he hadn't really wanted to; he could do that when necessary, but it hadn't been his choice, his game in this case.

Even upset, he was already thinking ahead to his next move. This game would be his in the end.

[Soma and the Once-ler]

[madeinthehrl]

Soma didn't know how it was possible to feel worse in the morning, but somehow she did.

Her arms shook faintly as she tried to push herself upright, and more than just her side ached as she tried to push herself upright. Wincing, she checked the stab wound in her side. The bleeding had stopped, and someone had stitched it shut in the night, but it was almost impossible to move without pulling at it at least a little. On top of that, the pain seemed to have spread to the rest of her abdomen, and it hurt more when she tried to get out of bed.

Her nurse clucked and shook her head disapprovingly when she entered, murmuring something about falls and dangerous table corners, and it took all of Soma's self-restraint not to throw something at her head. As if her morning hadn't started badly enough already.

The cafeteria seemed further away than it had been in a long time, but if nothing else, her nurse was patient. Soma filtered out her chatter, mind preoccupied with other thoughts.

Lingormr had seemed...different last night, in a way she couldn't entirely define. Did Special Counseling change people like that? It was possible. All previous responses on the bulletin board indicated the brainwashed patients thought they were fighting real enemies, people they'd have no qualms about injuring. If it had been Soma in that position, if she'd been given a weapon and told she was fighting members of Celestial Being...

Well. She couldn't honestly say she wouldn't have enjoyed that battle.

And then there was the matter of what she had found afterward. They hadn't had much time to examine the clue left in the X-ray room, but the meaning behind it was clear enough, as far as she was concerned. That, combined with the dull ache in her stomach today, was less than reassuring. Did Landel honestly think...?

No. It was absurd. At the very least, she'd need a second opinion before she went and jumped to conclusions like that.

There were only a few people in the cafeteria when she entered, and Lingormr was easy to spot. His body language told her all she needed to know about last night, but she hesitated all the same. As much as she knew about Special Counseling, she still wasn't certain if going over would be the right thing to do. Not with last night so fresh in both their minds. But it sounded as if Lingormr didn't have that many friends, and he was even less likely to make them after last night.

Her nurse, eager to help as always, brought her a tray loaded with french toast and fresh fruit. Soma lingered in the middle of the cafeteria for a moment longer before making up her mind and limping over to him, awkwardly setting her tray down across from him.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked quietly.

[lighthearted]

Sora wished that he could tell himself that he was feeling better as the morning came. He'd made it all the way to the X-Ray room last night, after all, and he'd even made a new friend in Link. There was some way to fix what was wrong with him, even if he still didn't know the exact details yet. Those were all good things.

But as he came to and realized that his stomach felt like it was twisting into itself, and not with hunger but just with an unexplained pain, there was little chance of being in a good mood. Instead, the boy let out a groan as he rolled over in bed, trying to get more comfortable -- which, of course, was impossible.

On top of it all, a number of his friends were injured, and they had put themselves in that danger for him. Right now, his only hope was that someone had gotten that X-Ray machine working.

It took some extra prodding from his nurse and an offer to give him some medicine or a wheelchair (both which he refused) that finally got Sora out of bed, but he was definitely taking it easy as he made his way across the institute toward the Sun Room. His hand rested against his stomach, and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about that butterfly. This felt more like there was an angry cat in his stomach trying to claw its way out, though.

Despite that, he stopped by the bulletin board, leaving a message for the club and also a response to Lingormr's message. Sora had mixed feelings about that whole thing, but he didn't want to do anything too drastic when he was already feeling pretty miserable.

The idea of putting any kind of food in his stomach right now was unfathomable, and so Sora moved to the edge of the cafeteria and sat down, running his hands through his hair as he tried to figure out what to do next. For now, he could only wait to hear back from the others to see if anyone had worked out what exactly was hidden in their stomachs.

[For Tsurugi!]

[knightspirit]

Waking up was like watching two pieces of mismatched film taped together. What he'd been doing completely cut off, and he was suddenly opening his eyes and sitting upright in an unfamiliar bed for the second time. He felt significantly better than he had after spending the night walking around with his energy on empty, but it was still disorienting and tugged at the remnants of his headache. ... Ugh. It was still hard to believe doing so little could have made him feel so awful. At least it was mostly gone now. Some food and rest, and he'd be back in shape. And from the announcement, it seemed some food wasn't very far off.

"Good morning, Mr. Taylor," a nurse greeted brightly as she opened the door. "You must be hungry." Kyousuke's face clouded over at the unfamiliar name, which didn't escape the nurse's notice. "Do you know where you are?" she prompted gently.

"No," he said slowly, just to see where it would get him. As the nurse went on to explain that he was at Landel's Institute to be treated for his "condition," he simply stared with a strange expression. ... So it was true. They were being kept here and told they were insane. At least he'd been warned about it, but that didn't make it any less bewildering to hear.

"...I see," he responded after a moment. What was he supposed to say? He wanted to protest, but it wasn't going to help him any. If he tried, it would only be written off as crazy ramblings.

The nurse seemed pleasantly surprised at his reaction, and led him to the cafeteria. He'd been wondering how they'd been able to get away with calling such a decayed building a hospital, but the halls were nothing like how they'd been at night, now spotlessly clean and having the look of a proper facility. ... Strange.

Once in line for breakfast, he took a good deal more than he normally would have; between missing dinner and expending all of his energy the previous night, he was famished. The nurse handed him a couple of aspirin before she left, saying he looked like he needed them, which he accepted with a shrug, placing them on the tray. He wasn't normally one to resort that sort of thing, but it wasn't like it was going to hurt anything, and he couldn't say he minded the idea of getting rid of the remainder of his headache. He had some work ahead of him to figure out what to do next, but he wasn't so sure if he was feeling quite up to socializing just yet, so was drawn more to the edges of the cafeteria. He caught sight of another boy, close to his age, who seemed to have the same idea as he did. ... He didn't seem to be faring so well, either. Kyousuke made his way over, placing himself at the same table, but just far enough that they could ignore each other if it came to that.

"Hey," he cautioned. Most people probably would have asked if he were alright, but it was stupid to just state the obvious.

[nobleman]

It was only by sheer luck that they had managed to get the results from the X-Ray and report it back to those other patients before the night ended. Guy honestly wasn't used to things working out that well, and so he was in something of a daze as he sat up from his bed and took in the morning announcement. Landel didn't seem to have much of interest to say this time around, which probably meant that he was simply biding his time and waiting to see how things played out.

Whatever had been in that man's stomach, it had looked exactly like a butterfly, or at least something that was shaped like one. It was hard to believe that the people here had really inserted devices into the stomachs of that many patients without them even realizing.

The good news was that they had some sort of lead, not to mention the fact that Anise and Claude had both failed to start transforming into anything last night. There was no telling how long that would last, though, and so they needed to decide on their next move quickly. They hadn't had a chance to discuss much last night.

Honestly, it felt strange to just go about his day when so much was hanging in the balance, but he didn't really know what else to do. He was sure that he'd run into Anise or Claude eventually, so for now he just had to try and keep calm.

After all, this had to be about ten times worse for them.

Guy made it to the cafeteria and forced himself to stand in line for some french toast. He wasn't exactly in the mood to eat, but he wouldn't be much help to Anise or Claude if he had no energy. So, with a plate of breakfast in hand, Guy went to take a seat, keeping an eye out for the two all the while.

[For Leanne!]

[survives]

As much as she'd hoped for the opposite, Leanne woke just as tired as when the night had begun, just as sick as before. It wasn't even like she'd done anything particularly strenuous that night either. After being whisked away to that Arena, she'd only been able to watch the proceedings, along with that kid, whoever he was. She'd never gotten his name, had she? Or figured out just what was going on, for that matter.

But she'd still woken up, not exhausted, but wishing for a good nap nonetheless. The rash only continued to spread, too, long beyond any hope of staying neatly hidden.

Regardless of how Leanne felt though, staying in bed all day was out of the question. She wasn't going to get anywhere sulking... and the nurse would probably not be too enthused about letting her stay there anyway.

Though it was the last thing she felt like doing, and her stomach protested before even arriving, she got herself to the cafeteria and picked up some breakfast. At the very least, maybe she could find someone to talk to.

And there was someone. Slowly, she walked over to his table, flashing him a smile she hoped didn't look forced. "Morning, Guy."

[earthling]

With how frustrating Nightshifts could be, Claude found himself surprised that they'd managed to find at least some kind of clue about his and Anise's symptoms. Part of him wanted to feel relieved, too, since he'd initially feared that someone might have taken the information for themselves.

But even though they hadn't completely wasted their time, he couldn't get much happiness out of it. To be honest, he hadn't wanted to find anything in that man's stomach. It had been much easier to deal with these symptoms back when he'd wondered if this was some prank from Landel, or if they were just a figment of his imagination.

The wet crunch of the woman being devoured by that monster still haunted him. He wondered who that had been, if she'd had any friends. He wondered what became of the monster, if they were locked up with the rest of Landel's creatures like some kind of animal, if they were frightened and alone...

Though French toast could have a rejuvenating effect for Claude, he didn't have much of an appetite for it. For one thing, his stomach hurt. For another, he was getting sick and tired of the stupid rash spreading across his arm. And if that wasn't enough to throw his appetite off, he was pretty sure he was starting to run a fever.

He felt gross, which compounded his depression.

But now wasn't the time to mope around and wallow in self pity. Claude gazed across the cafeteria as he took a seat, realizing that several of the patients here were probably going through something similar. Worse yet, most of them likely didn't know that bastard Landel may have implanted something inside of them without their knowledge.

When he thought about it that way, he very nearly started trembling with rage.

Yeah, forget breakfast. He had bigger fish to fry -- like finding Anise and figuring out how she was doing.

[For Anise.]

[gald_digger]

When Anise woke up, her body felt heavy, and it took some effort to pull herself out of bed. She was still running a fever, and that rash was only getting bigger. Anise opted to wear one of the institute's sweatshirts to cover most of it, then slathered a layer of makeup on the back of her hand. Maybe it was a futile effort, with her sickly complexion and fatigue being plainly visible, but she felt better if no one could see the one most obvious mark of an infected patient.

Walking in a sort of half-daze, she made her way to the Cafeteria. She didn't feel much like eating, but Anise still picked up some french toast with fruit from the counter.

She saw that Claude and Guy were already seated, though Guy was talking with someone else. Without really thinking much, Anise started towards Claude. It was probably going to be easiest to be around someone who already knew she was sick - getting into that conversation wasn't something she wanted to do first thing in the morning.

The seat across from him was open, so Anise set her tray down, sank into the seat, and seemed to realize belatedly that she didn't even greet him. "... 'Morning," she offered, her voice quiet and a bit uncertain. It took a few moments before she lifted her gaze to look him in the eyes. There was a lot to talk about, but she wasn't sure where to start. "Um... How are you feeling?"

[seekingmystrength]

Kurogane could not remember a night there that he'd ever chosen to sleep rather than head out. While that fact still remained true, he wasn't able to overlook that he hadn't managed to leave his room last night, much as he'd tried. Whatever Landel had done to him and others there had only gotten worse with the dark, and he couldn't even recall having made it to the bed before fatigue took him. That's where he'd come around though, night gone and him still feeling horrible.

He had to think of something he could do about this. Anything that would give him back some strength against what Landel was doing to him. Just willing himself to action wasn't going to work if he couldn't even keep conscious. There had to be a way.

What breakfast the nurse brought him he paid only mild attention to as he ate, trying to come up with a plan.

[Free]

[thecamellia]

_{[BOOM, NINJA SNEAK ATTACK.]}

Tsubaki came awake with a tight feeling in her stomach--the feeling she always got when frustration and worry were taking their tolls. Things wouldn’t be so bad if she actually knew how to fix the situation, but she didn’t.

Last night had been a prime example of how badly her hands were tied. As far as she was concerned, she’d had two options once Lingormr’s situation had been brought to light: help Scar, one of his victims, or try to help Lingormr himself snap out of the brainwashing. Much to her chagrin, she hadn’t been able to accomplish both, nor had she gotten to see what the hint in the X-Ray Room had been about. Even though she had found Scar had just the right time, she’d only been able to do the bare mininum for him.

It was frustrating! Where was Black☆Star to encourage her when she really needed it?

Black☆Star… Tsubaki blinked, struck by a thought. Oh yeah! That was right! With everything that’d been going on, Tsubaki had completely forgotten about her partner’s letter--such a small thing in an otherwise hectic avalanche of news and events.

In the quiet of the early morning, Tsubaki looked over at the still-sleeping Rapunzel and then to her desk, the last place she’d put the letter. Thoughtfulness warred with guilt, which then warred with hesitation. Prioritizing personal affairs was the last thing she wanted to do, but if she could grab just one private moment… one tiny trace of Black☆Star and his infectious ways… So what if it was out of homesickness or a mean comfort herself in the face of defeat? Couldn’t she have just a little taste of home before she was led down to the cafeteria to start the day?

I need you to tell me what to do, she thought, sliding out of bed in order to dig the letter out of her possessions box. I need you to be you, Black☆Star.

But before anything, there was something she had to do, something she’d promised Scar…

By the time her nurse arrived to start her on her morning routine, Tsubaki had left a note for Rapunzel on the girl‘s desk and was back to sitting on her bed, cross-legged with an empty envelope in her lap. The smile on her face was far removed from the sick feeling she’d woken up with--it hurt, that smile, but in a good way, a way she hadn’t felt in a while. Even so far away, there was someone out there supporting her. Waiting for her. It was enough. More than enough.

The nurse must have noticed something was up. "Miyu? What’s going on?"

Looking up from the paper in her hand, she only smiled wider before giving her head a shake. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m fine!" Carefully, she folded the letter up again and discreetly tucked it away in her shirt. She wanted to keep the words close to her, even if they only amounted to a single line in the middle of the page.

Oi, you’d better get your ass better and come home already! I’m waiting!

"I’m ready to go when you are," she added.

Thank you, Black☆Star. I owe you.

Once Tsubaki had stopped by the bulletin board, there was only one place left to go: the cafeteria, where she was guaranteed to find some of the people she very much wanted to talk to. Kurogane hadn't been a part of last night's disaster, but he definitely counted amongst the people she wanted to see. "Kurogane-san! Are you all right?"

[baniichan]

The transition between night and day was a little less jarring than before, but that was mostly because Barnaby hadn't been entirely aware of what was going on before blacking out altogether. He was alive, though, which wasn't something he took for granted.

But he also felt like he'd been hit by a truck, which was something he could have done without.

Despite how hazy his memories of last night were, Barnaby could piece together enough to deduce what had happened. Deep gashes to both of his legs, relying on his Hundred Power to avoid anymore injuries, his body paying the price later -- he ran through the images in his mind, recalling Kotetsu's urgent care, the strange clue in the X-Ray room, and the group that had approached them to examine him.

If he'd been in his right mind, Barnaby would have turned them down immediately. But time hadn't been on their side, and Barnaby hadn't wanted to deprive himself of more information just because he'd been foolish enough to take some debilitating injuries.

Now he knew there was something terribly wrong with him, he grimly realized. And so did some of the other patients here.

To add insult to injury, he was unable to walk himself to the cafeteria for breakfast. Although his wounds were properly dressed and stitched, he wasn't in any shape to stand on his own two feet, and Barnaby knew it.

Unbelievable.

He wanted nothing more than to retreat under his blankets and spend the day under them, especially when he considered the prospect of being paraded around the institute in a wheelchair. As far as he was concerned, he may as well have been wearing a neon sign that said, "I'm injured, please come after me!" When he considered what some of the other patients knew about him, his situation made him all the more nervous.

But, all things considered, he did a remarkable job of maintaining his cool as the nurse transferred him to his wheelchair, brought him to the cafeteria, and assembled a breakfast tray for him. Barnaby wasn't sure whether he possessed that much self-control, even in the face of a frightening and humiliating day, or if he was just too tired and in too much pain to put up resistance.

Regardless, he needed to conserve his strength for when he could put it to better use. There wasn't much he could do with the staff swarming them, and so Barnaby made sure he was situated in the corner of the cafeteria, away from the bulk of the other patients. With all of that taken care of, he stared down at his food with an empty expression, hoping that the nurse didn't decide to assign him a "friend" for the first shift of the day, and that Kotetsu found him first.

[For Tiger.]

[oyaji]

Kotetsu's wake up call was a little more jarring. Like the last visions from a fleeting nightmare, he woke up with a gasp, clutching his sheets tightly in his confusion. The first thing that hit him was a painful ache in his left shoulder and pectoral. He tried to remove the covers off him, but even from his right hand it made his chest and neck hurt. This sort of damage always reminded him of an exhilarating night cleaning up the streets from dangerous scum; today, it just reminded him how terribly he had messed up.

He hadn't been able to protect his partner, let alone any civilians. In fact, they had all seemed much more well adjusted than him and Barnaby, and there was something very disturbing and a touch stinging about that revelation. But he wasn't allowed to wallow in his pathetic performance for very long; a young nurse came in with a sling, which Kotetsu blatantly balked at.

"That's not necessary! My arm's fine, it's my should--

"Shoulder, I know... But when you try moving that arm of yours even a little, it is going to hurt."

".... I can handle it," he huffed, a bit sensitive of how it would look in the public eye. This wasn't the first time he had ever been injured, okay?! A little discomfort wasn't gonna--Ow, ow owwow! His petulant face crinkled in sharp pain when he tried to cross his arms over his chest. His actions only made the woman sigh, but she tried an alternative approach than chastising.

"If you won't wear it for yourself, wear it for me? I don't want to have to worry all day..."

Flaring his nostrils in silent challenge, Kotetsu eventually relented and let her fasten the flexible sling around him with only a few sore grumblings. But in exchange for this allowance, he asked her to get his fifty cent mask from off his table. Not surprisingly, she tried to talk him out of it, but he was adamant. She either gave it to him and he would go willingly or he would start a fuss. Honestly, the former Hero wouldn't have, but she didn't know that.

With his identity secure again, Wild Tiger followed the nurse to the cafeteria where she took it upon herself to carry his tray for him despite his complaint that he still had one working arm. "Let's see..." she said pleasantly in front of him. "Let's put you--"

"Uh, actually," he interrupted immediately, knowing this game all too well after only being here a few days. "I need to check up on Bunny..." His words kind of trailed off as he worked to pick him out of the crowd. "There--" When he found him, though, the rest of his words died in his throat at the sight of the blond confined to a wheelchair. A few worse-case scenarios entered his mind and twisted his stomach in knots.

Forgetting his breakfast, he headed straight for his partner, barely missing a few crashes into other patients passing through. Wild Tiger stood behind him for a moment, took a deep, calming breath to collect himself, and then carelessly flopped down in the chair opposite the young man like he was wont to do. "Hey..." he greeted with a pleasant smile, not sure what the hell else he could say. It was all clearly written in his amber eyes, but there was genuine relief too. Barnaby was alive and looking a hell of a lot better this morning than last night.

[ryuuzaki]

One moment L was moving through the corridor with Edgar and Nina; the next, he was curled on his side, lightweight hospital blankets draped over him and artificial illumination tugging at his eyelids.

When he was aware enough to have a reaction, intense frustration was the most immediate.

He had prepared for the night and had been ready to at least try to face whatever might stand between him and the possibility of a cure, even if he had doubts about Harrington. But he had only gotten as far as delivering a weapon to Nina, and that couldn't be called progress. Her gratitude at receiving it had seemed genuine and had moved him a mote closer to the kind of rudimentary, patched-together trust that had become common and necessary in the previous three weeks, but he might as well have stayed in his room and given her the bat the next night. Apart from that, the night had been a bust. Even Nina would require more evaluation.

The idea of staying in bed all day was tempting: a warm, comfortable, quiet nest, where he could sleep off the headache and the general feeling of tiredness that came and went and refrain from aggravating the pain in his shoulder. Yet he knew that it would have been a stupid, self-indulgent choice. Someone might have made it to the X-Ray Room, and they might be willing to tell others what they had found there, and as such, as long as he could stay awake, walk, hold down food, and so on, it would be a work day like any other... maybe one that could be interrupted at some point by a nap.

His roommate—who had, judging from the state of his bed, apparently survived the night—was already gone. L swung his legs off of the side of the mattress just as the door opened.

The few minutes after the nurse's arrival were almost the same as they had been the previous morning: she helped him with slippers, then a sweatshirt, then the sling. Most of the rash was hidden from view again, although L still suspected that his illness would be obvious to anyone who was looking for it, and also to nearly everyone else.

As he reached for the journal and pen, he was seized by a sharp abdominal cramp. His free right hand clutched at the painful spot, and there was a wave of chilled discomfort all across his body, but then the pain was gone as soon as it had come and he was able to tuck the journal and pen into the sling and follow the nurse out of the room and to the cafeteria. She had to help him load and carry his tray, too.

At least breakfast would be palatable. The idea that it could be his last enjoyable meal intruded on the periphery of his thoughts... but wasn't that always true in the Institute? If the illness... if it was even an illness and not a selective poisoning (but the pattern of the development of the symptoms didn't indicate only a single exposure, so if they could be injecting him while he slept, where was the injection site? would he be able to examine himself for one in the shower?)... if that didn't lead to his death, then bad luck might, on one night or another, in the form of the kind of encounter that most people would do whatever they could to avoid. Javert had run into bad luck... so had Jones, but that must have been downstairs, since there seemed to be a consistent pattern in which people who were making what looked like plans to go down there were dying and then reappearing a day later. There had been no indications that Jones had "died" a second time, only that he had vanished the way so many other people did, into a life he wouldn't have wanted.

L raised his fork to his mouth. Then, as he chewed the first bite of french toast, savoring the sweetness of the syrup and the hint of cinnamon in the batter, he looked around again, to see who might be looking for a breakfast companion. At least one of those people might be capable of providing useful conversation.

When he saw Harvey Dent, he waved him over.

Dent hadn't originally been in pursuit of a cure the previous night: L had seen Pilgrim's invitation to continue with their explorations. But there was no guarantee that the group's plans hadn't changed, and while their existing team—considered from a practical angle, with an eye to combat—probably lacked something without Jones and Parker, there was still a decent chance that they were capable of getting past the usual obstacles. However, that would have required that at least one of them was sick, which so far, on a strictly visual basis, hadn't seemed to be the case. They wouldn't have bothered, otherwise. If they hadn't diverted to the medical wing, they might have continued on "Mental Quest", which could mean information that might be valuable in a different, less immediate way.

[Harvey Dent!]

[dualistic]

To make the transition from sopping wet and freezing to something far more comfortable was an improvement on the usual switch from night to day, but also very jarring. Harvey woke up coughing, as if there was still some water in his lungs, but it soon became clear that what felt like a few minutes ago was more like a few hours.

He rubbed his hand down his chest and then up to his bandages. The water getting into his wounds had been intensely painful, but at least all of that had faded away by now. For once, he didn't really mind the fact that the staff had wrapped him up again.

So they had gotten through one so-called challenge down in those damn caverns, but Harvey had no idea if that was going to lead to anything. Had they actually accomplished anything by going through that free fall? It still felt like some ridiculous challenge that would have been required of a character in a movie, but at least they'd figured it out and hadn't ended up jumping to their deaths.

He was curious about what had come of that intercom clue, even though it wasn't something affected him or the people he worked with that much. For that reason he didn't make it a priority, giving the bulletin board only a quick glance over before he moved into the cafeteria.

With the way his wounds had been aggravated last night, Harvey couldn't say that he was in the mood to eat. Still, in case the hunger won out over discomfort as the shift progressed, he decided to get himself a plate of french toast. With that in hand, he looked around for a place to sit, and right nearby was Ryuuzaki, who was waving him down.

He was as good of a breakfast partner as any, Harvey decided, and so he stepped over and set his tray down on the table before taking a seat.

"Been a while," he said as he took in Ryuuzaki's face, and it didn't take a genius to realize that the guy was under the weather -- or worse than that, even. For once, Harvey felt like he was one of the few people who had dodged this bullet. "You caught the bug, huh," he muttered as he glanced down at his plate of food.

[awokentospring]

[Awoken to madness]

Lee was beginning to form at least one very obvious conclusion as he was led down the halls, through the Sun Room, and into the cafeteria. This was not a shinobi-run hospital. There was a distinct lack of village insignia on the walls. In fact, the walls themselves were incredibly bare. Hardly anything save for the bulletin board that people were gathering around in the Sun Room. Lee was curious, but decided he didn't need to waste time. Now was the time for food, then after he needed to figure out how to get back to the war. Which was looking to be harder than he thought, given that he didn't have a clue where he was beyond a place called Landel's.

The cafeteria was relatively empty when Lee and his nurse entered. While Lee was familiar with buffets, he still felt out of place, enough to hesitate on how to proceed with breakfast. He didn't belong here, after all. And his arms, bared of their bandages to expose the heavy scarring and dark bruises left him feeling a tad self-conscious. He rubbed his hands up and down the rough skin, fingers tracing across particularly noticeable lines.

As if sensing his awkwardness, the man beside him began to guide Lee closer to the service bar. With exaggerated movements, he showed Lee where to find trays, plates, and utensils, then began ushering him down the line. "See? It's really easy, Bruce."

"... I am not Bruce. I am Lee." The man was obviously still confused. But instead of apologizing, the man only chuckled. "Oh, I get it! Bruce Lee! Very clever!"

Lee's eyebrows shot up, still utterly perplexed by the man's inability to connect with the truth. Once they had loaded up the tray, the young man led Lee to a table and set the food down, then even took the initiative to pull out Lee's chair for him.

"Alright, you got your food and--oh! Right!" The man placed his hand to his forehead in an overly-dramatic gesture. "I'm Todd, by the way! Call me Todd. If you're in need of anything, just let me know, 'kay, Bruce?"

"Um..." But Lee could tell without a doubt that there was not going to be any getting through to the man. He scratched his neck and gave the man, Todd, a small smile. "... Okay. Thank you very much, Todd-san."

Looking relieved and proud of himself, the man beamed at Lee then took his leave, moving to join a cluster of other nurses and orderlies at the food bar. Still perplexed, and growing more wary by the minute, the young ninja turned to the task at hand, determined not to lose focus. Right now, he needed to eat. After, he would take care of whatever mess he had been dropped into.

[Mike-san~]

[hiddenbadass]

Mike awoke with a start, bolting up in bed without uttering a sound. He looked around--his room. Not the hall, not Shiina's, his. The one he shared with Brook. Night was over.

"Shell," Mike ran his hand over his hair, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Shiina...."

The poor kid. Shit, why was she the one that turned into a monster? She didn't deserve it. She wasn't prepared for it, either. She was just an innocent teenage girl. Something that didn't exist back home anymore, and now this place was tainting her to be just like that.

Anger boiled up in him. He knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do for her now that daylight had come. Mike could only conform to the Institute's song and dance or find his veins pumped full of sedatives. If he was going to find out what happened to Shiina, he'd have to keep his cool.

Shell.

His nurse arrived, and she almost startled back at the expression etched into his face. "M-Michael..."

"Slept wrong," Mike growled, knowing it was bullshit, but he didn't care. "M'ready to eat."

"Oh--" The nurse nodded, and he followed her.

Mike kept his thoughts to himself, glad that the woman was smart enough not to force him to talk. He needed to think. A quick glance at the bulletin board revealed that Niikura was checking for her, and Mike added his worry. Check in, Shiina, check in....

Such was his worry that he actually wasn't hungry. French toast. Actual food, but he didn't care. He grabbed milk, too, and he didn't care that his nurse held his tray for him as he piled food onto it. Mike knew he needed to eat, to keep his energy up, and to listen and look out for the girl. Forcing down food (or something that vaguely resembled it back home, anyways) was one of his talents.

His plans to sit by himself and think were quickly dashed, however, as his nurse happily started leading him away from the line after he had gotten all his food. Damnit. He grit his teeth but didn't argue, knowing he had to keep as calm as possible. Doing something stupid wouldn't help anyone.

How many other people were suffering, besides Shiina? How many others were being turned into monsters, tortured? It was like Shredder all over again. Mike remembered his journey underground, and what Shredder's experiments did to those men and women. Quarry...

"You're going to sit with Bruce today! Be extra nice to him, Michael--he's new!" His nurse chirped, and Mike's head jerked up.

"New?" He asked with mild alarm, a quick jolt going through his body; a new patient NOW?

"Yes," she said simply, giving him his tray and patting him on the back once she seemed satisified he could hold it with only one arm. "Now go say hello to him!"

He didn't see Shiina, so he knew he couldn't help her. The former turtle was still pissed, still terrified, but there was someone who simply didn't know how much danger he was in now. If Mike couldn't help Shiina at the moment, he could at least help the new kid.

Lee's hair was strange, and his eyes were... wider than usual. More round than most humans, as far as he knew. The hair reminded him of Moe of the Three Stooges. The kid had all of his limbs, minimal scarring, and he was also... athletic. Built. Not a lot, but enough that Mike supposed he could be a fighter. Good. They could use more of those around here. Mike could only hope the kid was smart, too.

"Hey," Mike called out to him, voice gravely as he sat his tray down and then his body with a bit of a drop. "Name's Michelangelo, but just call me Mike. Your name isn't Bruce, is it?"

[sixth_attack]

"No... I'm not going out there... I'm sick... I'll kill someone... No..."

Sechs finally woke up to the sound of those words echoing through his lost consciousness. Where was he, what time is it, why did he feel so horrible? His whole body ached too much to warrant anymore sleep and he was forced to return to the waking present.

As he slowly untangled himself from the bed sheets, memories from the day before gingerly faded back into his consciousness. All he could remember was very blurred and sparse though, had he been sedated the day before? He couldn't recall much of a struggle; he was too sick and weak to do much anyways then! Just what happened to him yesterday?

Just as Sechs finally got back up to his feet for what felt like the first time in days, there was a sudden knock on the door and a nurse escorted by the usual pair of orderlies entered the room.

"Oh, good morning Cody! I'm glad to see you're able to stand on your own today!" the nurse exclaimed at the befuddled Replica, "We couldn't get you out of bed yesterday even if we used the Jaws of Life on you!"

Shaky at the knees, Sechs could only stand there and glower at his unwanted visitors. "Wuh..?"

"Don't worry, you were very sick yesterday so you probably won't remember much," the nurse explained, "You were very dehydrated and your blood sugar was too low, so we had to keep you in the medical wing all day yesterday. I know you're still unwell now, but we need you to eat some real food today!"

"But--" Sechs hesitated, suddenly remembering fragmented memories of the morning before. He had been too weak to get out of bed the day before, and he refused to have his infection be known to others. After that he could only recall being wheeled out of his room to the medical room before passing out. Damn it, Sechs knew he completely lost his appetite since Landel's virus struck, but he didn't think he hadn't eaten for that long for his body to collapse on him like that! That would certainly explain the faint bruises on his arms from whatever syringes they used to "treat" him there...

Meanwhile, the nurse had tensed up at Sechs' reply, and the orderlies took another step closer behind her; obviously she knew Sechs' reputation for fighting against the staff and she clearly didn't want any confrontations. "Please Cody, I need you to cooperate with us! Sedating you will only make you feel worse!"

Sechs shifted into a defensive stance at the mere mentioning of needles. He couldn't go out there! Not after losing more allies and being doomed to bring more death to others! --But he was so hungry! A moment of strained growling and eye shifting later before Sechs finally grumbled out, "I... I can't go out there with this damn rash!"

Having expecting cursing and fighting, the nurse was taken aback by Sechs' less-than-violent reply. "Oh, that? Oh dear, it looks much worse than yesterday, doesn't it?" she said, carefully approaching the android and observing his arm. "I'll get you some cream and bandages for it, will that help you come out for breakfast today?"

Sechs cringed, begrudgingly keeping his eyes away from the caring nurse before him. He had to resist, but his whole body ached for decent care and he needed to find who else he knew was still alive. He didn't have any other options. It was then that Sechs was forced to swallow his pride and take the nurse's kind offer, whether it was genuine or not. "...Sure."

Shortly after, Sechs found himself back at the cafeteria and sitting before a plate of precious food. As he requested, his infected arm was covered up by rolls of gauze, but some of the rash could still be visible around his elbow. He couldn't worry about that then; he was too busy trying to steady his hand as he struggled to stuff in as much French toast into his mouth as humanely possible. He'd worry about his dignity later.

[Aigis!]

[no_dont_go]

The rash had worsened, but strangely, her symptoms beyond that had not. Every now and then, the heart would palpitate strangely or she would have the odd shiver, but beyond that she was. Fine.

There was still the matter of being able to advance further. Last night had been a failure, but only meant that Aigis was lacking a key. Something she had not yet tried. And she would figure it out, sooner or later.

Content with taking the new day as it came to her, Aigis was led to the cafeteria without incident. French toast was not her favorite. There was something about the texture that did not sit right with her. However, she had a wide variety of fruit to choose from and she added a glass of milk for protein. The choice of where to sit was the easiest of all. Seeing Sechs looking half-starved and heavily bandaged was enough to draw anyone's attention.

"Sechs-san." Aigis placed her tray down and sat, feeling comfortable enough to take a seat without asking for permission. They were beyond that formality. Her brow furrowed in concern. "Are you still unwell this morning?"

[freewill]

Castiel woke to an intense pain in two places. First, his shoulder, where a wound that had been hastily stitched when he'd first received it had been torn back open by the same person who had helped mend it. Second, his abdomen, which was filled with a dull, twisting pain that he had never experienced before. It was nothing like hunger.

Of course, he knew the cause of that after what he'd been told by those other prisoners last night. A butterfly-shaped object had been in Barnaby's stomach, and while that wasn't necessarily the case for everyone who had symptoms, chances were that was exactly what he was dealing with as well.

He had no idea why something like that would be able to make them sick, and what the point of shaping it to look like a flying insect was. But it was clear that in order to get rid of it, some sort of extreme action would have to be taken.

If he was still at his proper level of strength, that would have hardly been a concern. He could have sliced himself open, removed the object in question, and then healed up just as quickly. But if he was his normal self, he wouldn't be having this problem in the first place. He wished he could stop having these cyclical trains of thought.

When his nurse arrived, he glanced at the sleeping Kobayashi for a moment before leaving the room to navigate the halls yet again. He paused by the bulletin board for a few minutes before entering the cafeteria. He definitely had a few things he wished to clear up with Lingormr after last night, not to mention discussing the information they'd worked out in the X-Ray room.

Of course, he would have preferred to stay out in the Sun Room if he'd had that option, seeing how the very idea of eating anything was almost enough to make his stomach feel worse. He still felt very uncomfortable as he took a seat at an empty table, shifting around in his chair as he tried to figure out what position gave him the most relief.

[For Lust!]

[a_sin_for_him]

My my, the mood was certainly a dampened one when Lust was escorted into the cafeteria. She felt achy and stiff from the night before, lingering pain she still wasn't used to. But at least it had been a successful night? Honestly, she had no idea how to quantify ideals such as 'success' or 'progress' in this place. It was all relative.

At least she wasn't the only one nurses left over battle wounds. Though from some of what she could see, she'd gotten off lucky.

As she made her way to get food - she actually wanted to eat, and assumed it would help her to feel better - she took note of familiar faces. So far she had heard no reports of deaths last night, but the morning was very young.

And Scar was alive, and already occupied, and after last night...well, best to avoid him for a bit. At least until they'd perhaps spoken on the bulletin. He looked terrible....

She found herself passing by a table where the clever man from the book store sat. Unoccupied. Well, she'd found where she was sitting this morning. She set down her tray opposite from him and slipped into the seat with bothering to ask.

"It's like the morning after a plague's swept through in here," she mused, but her tone wasn't joking or light in the least.

[toxicspiderman]

The intercom hissed on. Sangamon Taylor awoke, having not died of hypothermia. He thought about it for a second, and put it down on both the plus and minus sides of the books. Like giving to a charity you worked for. If everyone on Beacon Hill and their long-lost second-cousins could do it, so could he.

The Head Bastard was still slobbering his way through the menu. Way too keen on the whole thing. Maybe he was eating patients after all.

Other people seemed to have the same idea. Or the infection had developed new symptoms. S.T.'s stomach felt fine. He skipped anything flesh-based, just in case. It was one thing to wave bacon at weak-willed vegetarians. It was another to be reminded exactly how close pork and human flesh smelled, with cannibalism on the brain.

[Scarecrow]

[scarefaux]

Though he was sure he had to have slept— that was assuming that was what happened to the human and human-turned patients when the night ended so abruptly, as it always had— the Scarecrow felt no better for it, despite the nurse's assurance that a good night's rest was just what he needed. He pulled his blanket around him as she knocked on the door and stepped inside, greeting him and insisting he looked a little better from how he'd been the day before; though she said one thing, even without a brain he could tell she thought something else, the look she gave him anything but comforting. His limbs shook as he got out of bed, head pounding with every step as though someone was hammering a nail into it. Skulduggery was already gone- hopefully not forever, like Depth Charge.

The Scarecrow shook his head, pushing that thought from him. His nurse suggested he get more rest in the Sun Room; he discarded that thought as well, knowing more rest wouldn't help him. He could spend the whole night in his room, but he was sure it wouldn't be the least bit productive, especially if he really was one of the infected. If he was going to find a way to get better, he'd have to do it himself. Sitting around on a pole had gotten him nowhere, after all- it was only once he did something about it that he found a way to get some brains and make something of himself. The same would be for his health and his missing friends.

Assuring the nurse he was just fine, he followed her along to the cafeteria for breakfast, his body fighting him the whole way. His head swam, stomach crawling as though it were filled with bugs; his legs continued to tremble from time to time as sweat built upon his brow, leaving his hair damp. He was unable to discern what was a sign of genuine human illness and what was something unusual caused by the infection as he had no basis for comparison, save for the sensations that had run through him following his sleep study; however, he knew enough about his human body to know it wasn't going to get better on its own this time. He still wasn't sure what was to be done about it, but he intended to find out.

Once handed his tray, he scanned the cafeteria and immediately spotted a familiar face- and boy, was he grateful to see someone he recognized after the long line of disappearances. "How do you do, Sangamon?" he asked as he approached, his voice hoarse from all the coughing fits he'd endured during the night.

[fourstonewalls]

Lana woke up slowly, blinking gummy eyes up at the ceiling. The Chief Prosecutor couldn't call in sick; it wasn't laziness that would grind the office to a standstill without someone in charge, but opposing ambition. Put that many competitive personalities in one building, and the results were predictable. On a good day, Lana expected it would all end in bloodshed.

On bad days, she acknowledged it already had. Some of it on her own hands.

Her alarm clock was talking to her, and not about traffic reports. She shook her head, which turned out to be a fairly painful idea, and sat up. She wasn't in her apartment. Oh, damn. She had to be really sick to have forgotten being kidnapped, even for a second. Unless this was some intentional side effect. Some stage on the way to being sent home, brainwashed and amnesiac.

She shuddered. Like it or not, her task was still the same. Get out of bed, before she fell back asleep. There was no hiding the rash on her arm, or the pallor of her skin, so she didn't try. She did ignore the nurse hovering by the door for long enough to brush her hair and tuck it neatly behind her ears. She made a beeline for the bulletin -- there was the note she was looking for. She'd heard the announcement, but she hadn't been able to summon the energy to go chasing it down. Perhaps someone else would know if it would have been worth it to try. Though right now the only person with any information wasn't telling -- did he (or she) find something? It seemed likely, though Landel wasn't the only one who enjoyed watching other people frustrate themselves over the lack of reliable information.

She didn't want food; her stomach was protesting violently when she was unable to pretend to have left anything unread on the bulletin, and she let herself be herded into the cafeteria. They didn't insist that she take anything other than a glass of juice, and she joined the ranks of people sitting as far away from the food as possible, hunched over the table.

[free]

[skeletonenigma]

As if in response to Skulduggery's thoughts, the end-of-night announcement suddenly sputtered on, thankfully short and to the point. Thankfully, because the dead woman had her hands in his mouth and had been seconds away from dislocating his jaw. Skulduggery was used to broken bones - they tended to come with the territory of being a walking, talking skeleton - but he was also used to getting them healed quickly, if not instantly. Something told him that wouldn't be the way things worked in this place.

Within a couple of seconds, the darkness had faded, the blinding light was back, and the suffocation due to hair and dead flesh was blissfully absent. Skulduggery gingerly tested his jaw, just to be sure the cracking pain hadn't escaped his memory somehow, before the nurse from the day before came to take him to breakfast. Skulduggery wasn't particularly enthused to encounter more food, especially when the annoying and painful hunger had only increased overnight without the accompanying skill of swallowing, but he didn't argue. Rita would most likely be there, and after the night they'd had, they needed to talk.

A brief scan of the bulletin board on his way through the Sun Room didn't reveal anything earth-shatteringly important. It was good to see that people had found whatever clue was supposed to be in the x-ray room, though it apparently hadn't been easy. Something to do with a brainwashed prisoner? No one was being specific, but it was obvious why. Even Skulduggery's nurse was shaking her head sadly at the notes posted up, and warning him not to fall into the same pit that so many of the other patients seemed to fall into. He assured her that he'd try not to, and allowed her to once again pick out his food - just with the stipulation of nothing that so much as resembled flesh - and a place for him to sit.

Rita didn't seem to have arrived yet. They'd been separated in most of the fighting last night, but Skulduggery was pretty sure she'd survived. He'd heard her scream near the end, at least.

He didn't think he was ever going to get the taste of that burned and rotting skin out of his mouth.

[Rita!]

[overlimit]

What a nightmare. Rita awakened with a start that morning, and quickly stumbled out of bed. To her relief, she was back in a perfectly normal room with no massive hair-monsters flooding the place.

Once she had a moment to reassure herself that it was over, Rita was able to fully calm down and was ready to go. She stopped in the Sun Room to check the bulletin, but she couldn't help but watch her back, for fear that that thing could still be lurking about. But it wasn't, and she was able to catch up on current events and continue on to the Cafeteria without incident.

Looked like Lingormr had gotten himself into trouble. He hadn't struck Rita as being particularly weak-willed or anything, either. It looked like the institute's "special counseling" could work on anyone... but that was a matter for another time.

Once Rita picked up some food from the counter, she spotted Skulduggery among the tables and chairs. Carrying her tray with one hand (as the other was still in a sling) she made her way over and sat down across from the man.

"Well, that was useless," she immediately griped. "Looks like we both survived, though."

[monkeyboy]

Son Goku's empty stomach woke him up. It made a growl, long and violent that shook him from his heavy lethargy which had apparently plagued him all night, because when he finally opened his big black eyes he noticed his tail was once again gone. It always hid away in the day. He didn't blame it; those white witches scared him too, them and their bee venom that left him stuffy-headed and unable to protect himself!

By the time he got on his feet--Or, well, finished falling off his mattress in a sleepy stupor--his parasite of a witch came to collect him for breakfast. For once, though, he was happy to follow her. He had missed out on dinner last night and he was soooo hungry! The young boy practically ran for the cafeteria with his nurse hot on his trail with cries of "Billy, slow down before you hurt yourself or another patient! There is enough food for everyone!" It fell on deaf ears, of course.

By the time his turn had come, his nurse had caught up with him and, very put out, helped him with his tray of food since he couldn't reach the buffet with his stubby little arms. She marched him somewhere that he could be controlled, but for once Goku decided to make his own path. The little boy strayed from his circling guardian, curious about a strange person a few tables away.

Even sitting down, the monkey boy only came up to the person's shoulders, and he stared up at his scarred face with wonderment. "Are you an android?" Because clearly that big wheely chair was just too impressive to be only a chair. Maybe it made him extra speedy!

[envy_the_sinners]

Scar practically glared holes into the back of Lingormr's head as he walked by. He was certain that he saw the ghost of a smirk on the bastard's face, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. If the Ishbalan were in any sort of shape to do so, Lingormr would be through a table by now.

But Scar couldn't even stand, never mind fight. He turned his weary and frustrated gaze onto the child that was currently addressing him. He had seen younger people here like Claude and Tsubaki... But never this small! The boy could barely see over the table!

"...A what?" Scar was typically surprisingly good with children. Rick and Leo had taken to clinging to him quite a bit when he had been back at the camps in Amestris. He normally would have snapped angrily at anyone who had some other foolish guess or suggestion about his origins, but his tone was tired, his angered mood shining through a touch less than it normally would. He couldn't lash out at a kid.

[mirrorimage]

Nina was suddenly on her back, hearing the pillow rustle under her head and the doctor's voice crackling over the intercom. The last thing she remembered was making her way through the hallways of the institute, Ryuuzaki and Edgar at her side, and now she was right back in her room.

She felt a bolt of frustration as she tossed off the blankets and rose from her bed. They hadn't gotten anywhere! She tried to soothe her own heated feelings by reminding herself that at least she had some way to defend herself now, and that was something....

Or was it? Nina realized dimly that the bat seemed to have disappeared.

The knowledge of how very far they had not gotten and the accompanying irritation continued to chew at her mind even as Nina pulled a new t-shirt on over her head. It didn't seem strictly necessary to change like this. Her clothes were immaculate and unwrinkled and didn't even seem to be slept-in, but force of habit and peace of mind still demanded she put on something she knew was clean.

She tried not to show her irritation to the nurse as she was escorted to the cafeteria. French toast, just like the intercom had promised. It smelled good, and Nina tried to use that to soothe her frustrations, too. It might cheer her up some to eat. Somehow even that failed to lift her spirits, though.

But something else did. Across the cafeteria, Nina spied a familiar face. Someone she hadn't gotten the chance to speak to since her first night in the institute. Her face lit up as she made her way over to him and sat right beside Murphy at his table.

"Murphy!" she said, her voice bordering on cheerful with relief. So far, at least, he looked okay. That was a good sign.

[For Murphy.]

[stop_the_rain]

Murphy was pretty much fine, physically. Catbot hadn't really done anything to him. No, it was his pride and his heart that were bruised and battered about this morning. But he was able to muster a weak smile for Nina when she joined him.

"Hey."

He was glad she was alright. At least he'd managed to look out for her all right. He hadn't failed her. It was probably the only thing he could hold on to right now.

What had happened to him? When had he turned into this blundering, confused, awkward man who didn't know how to talk to a kid? He'd always been so good with them. And he couldn't even just brush it off and say the kid was a little snot - he'd known plenty of little snots!

Maybe it was just the situation.

"I found a twelve year old kid stuck in here last night."

[unpriest]

Whether the hint in the medical wing was a genuine lead to the cure or a mere trap no longer seemed to matter when the night came towards its end much faster than Seishin had expected. One moment he had been traveling through the hallways with Westerning-san, the next he found himself staring at the bright white ceiling of his room.

At the very least, Westerning-san hadn't turned. Yet.

It was only moments later when a nurse led him through the Sun room into the cafeteria. Seishin had pondered to leave a message for the other man, but he had missed the opportunity before making a decision. The former priest collected his breakfast silently and wandered over to a more secluded seat.

[Free!]

[his_legacy]

Waking up in his room was disorienting for Link, to say the least. He had been knocked out before and awoken somewhere strange, yes. But this was a slightly different feeling. It wasn't natural. Glancing over at Sora's empty bed, the Hylian sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was very wary of the nurse now escorting him to an eating area of some sort, which was already filled with people.

The mood was miserable, to say the very least. Taking note of his surroundings, he recognized a few people, including the man who had burst into the X-Ray room the previous night. His companion was in some kind of metal chair on wheels, perhaps to aide him in moving with his injuries.

Why would a place that didn't seem to care about its patients take such good care of them during the day?

Link decided he would be best off approaching someone he had yet to meet. He set his tray down across from a man who seemed to be in okay shape. His clothing could be hiding wounds, though.

"May I sit here?"

[ninelivesonce]

Healing Rita had taken more out of Taura than she'd thought -- that, or sleep had staged a careful ambush, using her own bunk as a logical weak point. She hadn't had a chance to go investigate the rumors of a cure, which had her scowling at the wall as she combed her hair into place.

Just because she wasn't sick herself didn't mean she didn't care. There were too many people ill.

When she got to the cafeteria, she stared. More than too many people were ill -- most of the room was picking at their food at best, and there weren't that many of them. The mess staff were glad to see someone hungry, though, and she didn't have to even think about coaxing them to give her seconds and thirds; a couple of kilos of French toast appeared on her plate as soon as she held it out.

Rita looked better. Angry, with her arm in a sling, punctuating sharp comments with sharper movements, talking to a man Taura had never met, but she had the energy for anger. Son Goku was there, too, attaching himself to another relative newcomer. Two friends left, at least, and she would find out who they'd been talking to whenever she could. For now, she'd find a table to herself, away from anyone green and shivering over their tray.

[free]

[oneman_onekill]

Yeah, that had been awful.

They hadn't gotten anywhere; in fact, they'd taken a step back--a huge step back. Shiina had turned into a monster, and there had been nothing he could have done about it. Nothing. In fact, he'd just stood there and panicked. What the hell was that about? What kind of stupid, idiotic, lying, moronic, weak...Niikura let out a weak laugh in bed as he let a hand flop over his face. "Made of over three hundred, and ya couldn't even bother to think for five seconds, huh?"

The truth was, though, that he could sit around and mope as much as he wanted, but it wouldn't change a damn thing. There was still a day to face and plans to be made. Shiina would be okay. He had to trust that and just face what was in front of him, instead of panicking over things that were still just possibilities. She hadn't died yet. The nurses could change back; there had to be a way.

It wasn't like how things had been with Katsuragi. He still had time.

A few minutes later, Niikura was struggling through the breakfast line, noting that many other people had similarly dismal expressions on their faces. It was true, then: misery did love company. He smiled a bit at the thought as he collected a tray full of food (but still much smaller than his usual breakfast) and went to go find a seat. A quick check-in with Mike was probably in order, but it looked like the other man was occupied with someone else--okay, he'd just strike out on his own, then. He sat down at a table and stared at his food for a second before attacking his french toast with particular vehemence.

[Klavier]

[rocksthecourt]

Aggravation wasn't really a good way to start the day off, but there was no helping it by this point. Unfortunately, he had no one but himself to blame for it. Klavier understood all too well how this place could be both physically and emotionally draining. He regularly found himself exhausted. But he was no exception; everyone else was exhausted as well. So there was absolutely no excuse for him to have slept through the entire night like that. Moreover, he was shaken by the idea that he had so easily closed his eyes and let his guard down during the most dangerous hours this place had to offer. It was careless.

Perhaps it was a testament to the heavy toll this place had had on him. Maybe he had needed the rest. He felt a little more refreshed this morning, admittedly, so perhaps it was for the better in the end. But he still didn't like it.

He also didn't like this atmosphere lingering over the cafeteria as he walked in. There was no proper way to pinpoint it exactly. People often looked desolate first thing in the morning, after all. Despite that, there was a noticeable heaviness on many of the faces he walked by. The room itself seemed more hushed and tense. It wasn't exactly difficult to speculate that something or several somethings had happened the night prior. Just wondering about what exactly he may have missed made him nervous, especially if it garnered this kind of mass reaction.

Klavier gathered his breakfast, quietly eyeing the people around him more than his food and trying to guess. His best bet was to probably check the bulletin after eating, but that was a limited source since it was so public. Interrogating people first thing in the morning probably wasn't a good idea either, and people were probably going to be irritable and jumpy all day. He had no choice but to be patient... and careful, he supposed.

It was for that reason he decided it might be best to sit with someone who didn't seem so openly depressed and at their mental limits. One such person was a white-haired man (not old; just white-haired) who seemed more focused on gorging himself on his breakfast than anything else. Sitting with someone like that, the worst that could happen would be getting ignored in favor of french toast. A reasonable choice.

"I'm guessing it tastes pretty good," he said as he placed his tray down in front of the seat across from the man. He offered a light, harmless smile. "I'd been wondering if they did it any justice."

[sorry it took so long getting to this]

[maverickhunterx]

Night had gone into morning, but nothing was illuminated by the sun.

He had been herded into this...feeding facility (claiming a table by himself far from others) by someone who was far too cheerful, but far too well-seeming for X to point out her mistakes in addressing him. Even if she had answered all of his questions with even more confusing things, he smiled and even tried to make pleasant small-talk as they moved through the halls, his own empty but kind words blotting through his head in hopes to remove the inevitable replay that would sear into his eyeballs like a burned Monitor screen.

Long blonde hair.

Metallic over-body.

That name.

Ow, his leg still hurt. Still hurt and made it hard to move, his body lurching forward in small limps as the woman -- was she a nurse? -- helped him into a chair with wheels on it. He let her push him along (he didn't want to be rude, of course), but something felt off about this. Being cared for, being looked after.

It was the same sort of sick sensation when Harpuia had done it.

The hand he had used to punch the glass also felt small tinges of pain when he clenched a fist, though he noticed it looked far better than it had last night.

And then there was the matter of Harpuia. When he asked the woman (? Nurse?) of his condition she would brush it off, as though he was speaking about someone who didn't exist rather than someone who was real, flesh-and-blood (or once circuits-and-steel), and had suffered alongside him the night before.

Was he all right? He had gone through quite the ordeal, too...he needed to find a way to speak to him. Maybe see if he was okay.

If he had just been a little stronger, then maybe...

X stared down at the plate of human food in front of him, letting out a sigh. He absent-mindedly poked at it with his utensils (being especially careful with his bad hand), experimenting with the smell. What was this?

He glanced at all the other patrons. They put it in their mouths and used their teeth to mash it up. Oh, that's right; humans ingested food orally, didn't they?

Putting some of...whatever this was on the edge of it, he took a nibble, beginning to chew.


[Free!]

[lovesthepain]

The morning hadn't brought much more than confusion. Confusion, and an awful lot of pain. It wasn't hard at all to recall what had happened last night, especially not when every last place one of Zero's shots had landed still burned keenly. It was... well, it was a little strange that he was still hurting; normally, repairs meant a complete erasure of the damage sustained, not merely patching up whatever'd been broken. It was, at the very least, a comforting discomfort; this proved that he was definitely alive, and that everything he'd experienced the night before could be accepted as factual experience, not some sort of farfetched dream. Even so, he couldn't help wishing that it'd been saber cuts instead of gunfire. Beam saber wounds were a much more clean, vivifying sort of sting. This was a persisting slow burn, more distracting than anything.

...Still, no matter what sort of damage it was, it carried an element of frustration to it. What in the world had happened to Zero? He never suffered under the delusion that Zero would ever be a friend of his, but this...? The entire experience left him bitterly dissatisfied. He still had no idea where he was or what was going on, but if this was the end result of sacrificing his life to spare Zero's...

The chipper arrival of a medic had put a halt to that trail of thought. She, at least, had been able to clarify his situation a little. Hayato (that wasn't his name, but he let it slide; it was clear she was addressing him, in spite of the misnomer) was a brand-new patient at Landel's Institute -- one who must be having a hard time adjusting, she suggested, eyeing his injuries with a pitying sort of note (did she think these were self-inflicted...?), but maybe he'd feel better once he'd had some breakfast. He'd attempted to point out the sheer ridiculousness of giving him human food, but she wasn't hearing it. He was, after all, a growing boy (a statement so absurd it bordered on offensive)!

As disagreeable as Harpuia found these claims, he nonetheless consented to follow the nurse. She was, after all, human; he was obligated to show some civility. He'd been surprised to note the difference in atmosphere that daylight had brought. The environment was clean, bright, and sterile. There appeared to be much more signs of some routine, ordered activity; there were plenty of other patients, most accompanied by nurses, a few of them clustered around a bulletin board on the way. Something to examine later, possibly.

Finally, the nurse lead him to the cafeteria, ushering him along into the line. Another token protest fell on deaf ears, so he resignedly accepted a plate of something called French toast. ...What, exactly, was he supposed to do with this? Ignoring the nurse's suggestion that maybe he should try to make some friends, he took his food over to an unoccupied spot, away from most of the other diners. The French toast was immediately put to the side -- reploids, of course, didn't eat human food. Instead... Harpuia intended to observe. He needed a moment to sort through the precious few things he had learned, get his thoughts in order. Surely there were things he could pick up through observation, sparing himself the process of asking stupid, obvious questions.

The first observation: everyone here seemed miserable. The mood was definitely a discouraged one; nobody he watched seemed especially happy about being here. The second: he wasn't the only one in less-than-optimal condition. A few wheelchairs, a splint, a pale and sweating face... he supposed unwellness was an inevitability in a place full of patients, though. The third: everyone here looked human. Had Zero's fully-robotic appearance the previous night been an exception?

The fourth... Harpuia, of course, was a reploid, and would therefore never be in a position where he needed to eat. All the same, he picked a few strangers out for observation on how this French toast was handled. He was sure the process was a simple one, but... the idea of putting anything into his systems was... well, better to be safe than sorry, that's all. It gave him something to do to keep his mind off the merciless throbbing of last night's injuries, if nothing else.

[corvus_veritas]

I'll be right back.

Those were the last words Byrne heard his partner say to him before everything ended, and a new day began, just like every other morning in this damn place. Highly disappointing, for sure; he barely had any time to search the ridge, even. There might have been something there. Something useful! And all he'd been able to find was trash.

Maybe Badd found more than him in that mine? Then again, it seemed like there had barely been a minute between what he'd last heard from Badd and when everything went black. Ahh, well. Byrne rose from bed feeling some cramping in his abdomen (oh, great, what new pains is this sickness going to give me today?) and followed the nurse to breakfast, as always. Guess the quarry wasn't far enough to escape Landel's uhh, what would one call it? Grasp? Barriers? Magical retrieving powers? Something like that. However he did it, it obviously reached as far as the quarry, ergo he and Badd needed to go farther from the Institute on their next attempt.

Almost completely lost in thought, Byrne collected his breakfast and then scanned the cafeteria for Badd; the two of them could discuss last night's events in detail now, maybe contemplate trying again tonight. But, huh. Where was he? He couldn't see him anywhere. Then again, it wasn't like Byrne was the last one here. The old detective probably hadn't shown up yet, that's all.

He seated himself alone and began to eat despite the sudden cramps he was having, confident that he'd be speaking with his partner sometime later.

[Very delayed closed post.]