[M85]

This was new for Scott. He was all changed and geared up to go for the night, but he couldn't get moving just yet. Instead, he had to wait for someone else to show up. What was his name again? Neko something? Whatever. Point was that right now, instead of heading out the door, Scott was sat down on his bed in the dark, awkwardly flipping a pair of AA batteries over and over in his hands as he waited for the knock that would signal him to his feet.

Not that he was in a huge rush to get back up to where he had been the previous night, of course. On the contrary, he was dreading the idea of having to go back through the same space he had faced NegaScott in. He knew, though, that going somewhere - anywhere - was better than just sitting around on his ass. ...Well, clarification: sitting around on his ass was better in most situations. Just not in ones where sitting on it could seriously hurt his chances for ever getting it back to his Ramona's bed in Toronto, where he could then comfortably sit on it to his heart's content. The less he did in the way of advancing in the Institute, the closer that left him to the ultimate game over. And so, he had to keep pushing forward. He had to fight on valiantly! For the sake of Ramona. For the sake of himself! For the sake of his ass!

Wait—

How long is Neko Case here gonna be? Scott thought impatiently, checking the watch that wasn't there.

[From here.]

Well... here he was. Ludwig's flashlight played along the empty hallway, and for the first time, he truly felt like he was alone in this place. Up on the second floor, he couldn't even hear the constant hum of activity and movement on the lower floor. In a way, it made sense, given how much distance he'd put between them. But on the other... it was rather eerie. Such absolute silence everywhere, such darkness pressing in from all directions... it was more than a little intimidating. His single flashlight didn't cast much illumination in the cavernous hallway, and the sheer variety of choices was also a reason to pause.

He could proceed straight ahead, or a little to his left to investigate that hallway. Or, he could turn to his right, to where the majority of the Institute still remained. He'd seen the open area on the second floor above the sun room, it was entirely possible that the staff had something useful up there on hand in case the patients got unruly. Or, it was also possible that he could continue going and see what was further on still, beyond the reach of his flashlight beam.

Mm... all of them were good options, and while his methodical nature made him want to go left and work his way right, he also knew that was likely not where the best materials would be for weapons or other such things. So, for now, he paused and contemplated the matter, considering his options carefully. All the while, he remained tense and alert- without weapons, if a monster surprised him, that would be it for him. So he had to be careful, and know when to retreat if an attack was too much for him to handle.

[Waiting for Watson]

It seemed sleep was a world away, and what might have mattered in objectivity failed to move Nigredo. Martin Landel was unreachable, his nightly "additions" a consequence of the place itself. It wasn't that the boy didn't care-- No, wait. He honestly was apathetic, but he supposed the emotion would shift if they would inject more permanence into their little events. As it was, he could only wait until this Eagle presented itself.

Waiting, however, usually meant rest, and rest wouldn't come. Even the pretense of unconsciousness failed to occur; he was locked in a state that refused stagnation.

Nigredo worried, concern seeping in the most unlikely of ways. And if honesty was a capability, it would admit to brothers. He wouldn't watch them anymore--that role had ended days prior--and Rubedo and Albedo perhaps would never seek him out in light of their new issues. But one refused to registered on the link. Did for a temporary hour and then vanished before his mental eyes. The fact was a discomfort. Tinged, in fact, with panic. Nigredo remembered well what occurred last time, and though this proved to be of another nature, it wasn't easily ignored.

Therefore, the boy slid away from his bed, reached into the closet for his solitary weapon, and--

--tripped over his feet. It was not a terribly monumental lack of grace, but it was enough propel his good arm to the wall, fingers slamming against the plaster. Something gave under the impact. Something crunched under his ear.

And the world faded away.

[Fail teleport to here.]

What was this? No ominous warnings of doom, no live broadcasts of torture...what, had Landel's scriptwriters gone on strike? Maybe that upgraded sound system had come at a higher price than anyone had expected. Figured. Typical bureaucratic bullshit. Not even the insane could escape it.

Niikura sighed as he set his dinner plate aside and started to get ready for whatever was in store for tonight. As usual, he had no idea what was in store, but figured it would come to him as it happened to every night. He'd wander around, find someone who looked interesting, latch on, and watch things unfold from there. No sweat.

In any case, time to get a move on. Grabbing his radio and flashlight, Niikura nodded to his roommate (Edward was looking a little better today. A little.) and left.

[to here]

[from here]

Very few people out here. Maybe he should slow down, wait for some more patients to come crawling out of their rooms; otherwise, he'd just be hanging around, and then randomly approaching someone: wouldn't that look suspicious? The whole point was to make the act random.

Or perhaps he was just over-thinking. The larger, more popular halls would probably prove more fruitful.

[skipping to here]