The intercom jingle arrived on the dot of the hour, ringing clear and polished like a silver bell. Sounds of papers rustling and a throat clearing followed before the Head Doctor's voice came through, a harsh agitation present beneath the cordial tone.

"Ah, good evening, everyone. You remember our, um, 'nasty bug' problem earlier in the day? Well, it seems some of our patients have fallen ill. Now, this is no cause for actual concern--we're not dealing with a mutant strain of the bird flu or the like."

Thank goodness, was the insinuation.

"But I do want to remind everyone the importance of cleanliness. The staff is on-call 24/7 for your health and well-being, but we're hardly omnipotent--"

Without prelude, the Head Doctor dropped to silence, as though he had simply lost the ability to speak. Static took his place--it stretched and melted into the environment like fog, until one could feel the absence of words creep along the walls and ceiling.

Then it broke, and the man laughed, restless and unhinged.

"Omnipotent," he began. "Just listen to me. Still playing the evil lunatic for the poor, unfortunate souls you used for your own misguided devices. Who will probably never even hear your name, the poor bastards. It's been thirty-two days since our fun little reunion, and look at where we are: me, alive and on top, and you--

He paused, an inconspicuous sound filling the hole before harsh laughter broke through once more.

"--dead like everyone else."

The Head Doctor finally sobered, his voice acquiring the hint of a sneer.

"So how does this all pertain to you, you wonder? If you've been paying attention to my crazed ramblings, the answer should be fairly simply to deduce. You see, a former associate of mine was partly responsible for the monstrosity gallivanting around on a nightly basis. I've used his findings to solve a little problem of mine.

"Follow me so far? That nasty bug is only the beginning. Tomorrow, some of you will experience some unorthodox symptoms. In the days after, these symptoms will only intensify, and the division between who is infected and who isn't will be obvious. And on the last day, when you least expect it, some of you will change. Some of you will have the opportunity to experience the thrill of the hunt--losing volition and conscious thought, tearing into and masticating your beloved friends and family, the very same behaviors native to our homegrown monsters."

A beat passed as the doors to the patient rooms unlocked in unison. The Head Doctor clicked his tongue.

"'Father of lies', hm? You were very right to call him dramatic, boy."

The intercom turned off in a haze of static.

After bidding good night and good luck to Kratos and being left alone in his room, Tolten stood and decided that he may as well make use of his time. It was rather like being in prison, or so he fancied. He'd never been imprisoned before, but he'd listened to the stories around the fire and the dinner table. And while he couldn't do much insofar as putting his mind to work, he could do his best to stay in top physical shape.

Even if he was (perhaps) under the weather. He didn't know what to think of the announcements that were made, either during the day or after dark. But he didn't trust them one bit. And until he could discuss it with someone else or read the bulletin, he was going to ignore it. It was really easier that way.

But in the meantime he would set himself a routine. Which would involve stretching and warming up each evening between dinner and whatever was to be done that night. Even if he was staying in. Really, especially if he was staying in. At least running about and fighting was physically invigorating!

The young king managed to strip off his shirt and stretch a handful of times before he felt light headed and decided to lay down on his bed for a moment. Just to catch his breath.

He truly hoped this wasn't warning signs of some horrible thing...

[Locke!]

[M79]

What in the world was with tonight's broadcast...? Zero felt like he should know some of the things the Head Psycho was saying, but he knew so little about the history of this place and the man running it that a few details were lost on him. Fortunately, the rest of the message was easy to understand... Unfortunately, that message was far from reassuring to hear.

A former associate of Landel who was partly responsible for the monstrosity roaming around at night... (Who? What monstrosity?) Landel was going to use this associate's findings to solve a 'little problem' of his... (What problem?) Some of the prisoners would be infected with a 'nasty bug' that would turn them into something like blood-thirsty monsters... (Why?)

Was there any way to stop this from happening...? What could be the reason for...

..... That's it. After a broadcast like that, there was no way Zero was going to take it easy tonight.

Standing up from his chair, he removed the sling from his arm and threw it onto his bed, allowing his injured arm more movement. Urgh... It hurt to move that arm around, but at least he could still bend it. He'd just have to be careful with it tonight. That done, he moved to gather his supplies - maps in one pocket, flashlight sticking out of the other, and pipe on hand.

...Mn. That pipe... Looking at it now, he could see a large dent in it from last night's battle. This weapon wasn't as sturdy as he'd thought after all...but oh well, it would still work for him right now. He'd just have to keep this observation in the back of his mind, and look for a better weapon as he explored later on.

But now, time to go. Slipping on his boots and throwing an obligatory 'be careful' at Woody, Zero went out the door and into the hallway.

[To here.]

Even after dinner and mostly resting on his bed for the final shift of the day, Locke wasn't feeling any better. His face was still warm and, if he made any quick movements, the room would spin; his hope that this was just fatigue was quickly fading away and the announcements Landel made did nothing to ease him.

Not that the creep's announcements were ever anything to feel happy about.

The treasure hunter slipped on the boots from the military outfit, the only thing he was willing to put on from that thing, and headed out as soon as the doors clicked open. He didn't really know what Tolten had planned but he figured preparing as usual was his best option.



[To Here]

[From Here]

Of course, as soon as he thought about what Tolten could be planing for the night, Locke's thoughts went to Edgar's comments on the board; not for the first time since Tolten's post, Locke found himself silently cursing his friend's teasing. 'What if he's right' was a thought that plagued Locke as he entered the main hall and turned left towards the hall that would take him to Tolten's room.

He just had to keep himself calm and ignore those thoughts. Surely that's not what Tolten had meant...besides, from what Locke could tell, his friend had wanted time to think everything over-which was fine-and it had only been a bit over one day so...

Locke decided he was going to have to find some way to get back at Edgar for messing with his head like this. Maybe if his head wasn't so fuzzy this whole thing wouldn't be as confusing.

[To Here]

Anise had been quiet that evening. She ate dinner quickly, changed her clothes, then lay down on her bed to rest. The night hadn't even started, and she already felt worn out. She hoped that closing her eyes for a bit would make the headache go away.

Unfortunately, the pain was still there by the time the Head Doctor's voice began to ring through the institute. And his message... was possibly the creepiest she'd ever heard. A bug, an infection, symptoms, and then...

Anise clutched her pillow tightly, trying not to imagine it too vividly, but against her will, the memories of the nurses' transformations came flooding back. Was that going to happen to them...? He didn't say what the symptoms were. What if the aches and malaise Anise felt weren't just from overexerting herself and being under stress, what if...

No. Anise wouldn't believe it. She couldn't accept that. But her mind continued to wander. What if it wasn't her, what if the friends who'd been strangely absent that day were actually...

Damn it, no! The longer she stayed put, the more her mind was going to linger on horrible thoughts like those. Anise shot out of bed, scrambled to grab her things, and shot out the door. She had to find Guy.

[to here]

[M27]

Byrne listened to the intercom, and listened to it well. As much as he hated the sound of that man's voice, he needed to listen for any clues he could possibly get, any warnings generously given ahead of time (ha!), and anything to do with that mystery illness going around.

Unfortunately, tonight's broadcast had everything to do with that illness, and hearing about it gave Byrne more than one reason to feel ill.

Now, more than ever, he was hoping that what he and Ms. Skye (and presumably several other people) had was something harmless, and that Landel was just messing with them. It was only a bug, and he wanted to scare them. Right?

...Landel was telling the truth, wasn't he?

Byrne was stricken with a moment of panic, imagining himself turning into a hideous beast from some infection, and...no no no. Having a fever wasn't an unorthodox symptom, alright? People get fevers all the damn time. Calm down. You're okay. You'll be okay! Just...for now. Maybe.

He needed to get moving, and do something tonight. Without Badd.

Byrne grabbed the mirror shard he'd received the night before and his maps, and then threw on his scarf before heading out the door. To where, he had no idea. But he'd figure something out.

Hopefully.

[To here.]

Taura paused, before heading out, to take a good, long look at herself. Metaphorically speaking; she didn't turn the flashlight on for this. She felt...good. Better. The zombie infection hadn't even left a scar. There were a few tiny ones on her lips, where Rita had had to fight her off, when she'd been possessed. Other than that, the only thing that hurt were her ears, which were starting to be less difficult to get the earrings through, but not yet easy. She was a little hungry, but dinner was never big enough, and what she wanted was a nice, well-cooked steak, or a vat of chocolate mousse. Not anything else. A little anticipation fluttered in her stomach, but if she hadn't had that, then she'd worry.

It was just...it wasn't like her luck to avoid something like this. She ran one hand over the other, feeling the chipped polish and the soft, squishy nails underneath. She'd gotten one truly lucky break in her life; another was more than she deserved.

[to here]

[from here]

Taura was passing the door to the bathrooms when a thought occurred to her. Could that have been what Okita had been worried about? Did he know something had started? He hadn't looked especially well, come to think of it, but he'd never looked terribly energetic, except in the middle of a fight.

But if he'd known this was coming, why hadn't he said anything? He didn't have to use his own handwriting -- if he'd wanted to, he could have let them all know that something was coming without tipping his hand.

Or it could be something else. Politics. Loyalties. She hadn't expected him not to have any, but she wished he'd been willing to explain. Did he think she'd be disappointed? Maybe she would have, a little, but she would have listened to what he had to say. Did he -- no, he didn't think her unworthy of trust, but perhaps he hadn't been able to turn that same regard to himself? Or maybe it's just embarrassing, Taura.

[to here]

[from here]

Taura didn't let heavy thoughts drag her footsteps down. She was around the corner and down into the main hall in two long strides.

[to here]

[from here]

Taura took up station midway between the two halls leading back into the dormitories. Alone with her thoughts; the hall was quiet. Too quiet. Dead quiet, a little voice hissed in the back of her mind.

This was no time to be getting superstitious. It was unavoidable, really, in a profession with so much risk involved in daily operations, that those who survived found things to credit. Beyond their own skill, because they'd all seen better men/women/herms when their luck ran out, and skill only improved your odds.

Her luck was holding, tonight. Was Rita and Goku's?

[Rita and Goku]

[From here]

Loki kept his pace purposeful as he entered the hallway, retracing steps he'd taken each of the nights before with confidence. Now he was more willing to not bother pausing, trusting his keen hearing to pick up any potential problems.

He remembered the way to the medical wing precisely, and the process would be much faster without having to play dumb for the benefit of mortals.

[To here]