Day 28; Bus 3

[fyeonly.livejournal.com]

There was, Naomi decided, some sort of cosmic irony in all of this. Not that she was trapped in a deranged and possibly other-worldly asylum with a man she'd idolized for years and a boy who was being investigated for - among other things - the murder of her fiance. No, at this point, those were perfectly normal occurrences. Rather it was the soft, pretty, feminine pink sweater dress she'd been stuffed into in the morning. A chance to wear normal clothes, and she looked like a soccer mom. The white blazer and white boots only made her look like a soccer mom who maybe hadn't given up gogo boots.

It was humiliating. Why couldn't she have jeans and a sweater? And sneakers? Something she would conceivably wear? Not this damned pink monstrosity. And her nurse kept saying how pretty she was.

She didn't care if she looked pretty.

Grumbling to herself, and taking it out on her muffin, Naomi was shoved onto an empty bus and told to 'sit tight'. Oh, she'd sit tight alright....

At least she was relatively certain L was alright. She'd spent the whole night with him, and other than falling on his ass, nothing had happened to him. And hopefully nothing would happen to him in town, either....

Comments

[cobalt-soldier.livejournal.com]

Heero woke with a start, momentarily confused to find himself back in his room. The others had warned him this would happen, but to actually experience it.. still felt quite strange to him. And now the intercom was on again, and the promise of heading into town spurred thoughts of freedom anew in his mind -and not even the slightly hideous sweater he'd been given to wear could dampen his mood-.

He followed the nurse to one of the waiting buses, feeling the worn material of the jeans against his legs and the weight of the small bag in his hand. He cast a look around, hoping to catch some familiar faces, but eventually settled in a seat by the window, watching the other patients being escorted as well. Now to figure out how tight security would be during the rest of the field trip...

Perusing the contents of the bag, he blinked, startled: what did they expect him to do with a manicure coupon, of all things? But then again, these places were bound to store all kinds of torture devices, albeit miniature in size.

[uruz-vii.livejournal.com]

Sousuke's eyes cracked open, wincing at the lights that had been so unceremoniously turned on. Once again, he was back in his bed--every part of his body aching. That battle in the bathroom had really taken it out of him, that was certain.

And now his nurse was waving some clothes at him and talking about a 'field trip'? The last time Sousuke had participated in one of those, he'd ended up in a warzone with a dire hostage situation and the risk of Black Technology being discovered. Not exactly a nice relaxing trip.

The sergeant moved down the bus aisle, wearing loose jeans, a white t-shirt and an open-front pink shirt. His nurse had said he looked like he was ready for a date, to which Sousuke asked, "What date?"

"Mr. Inoue," one of the nurses charged with overseeing the bus, "Please sit down. Here, why don't you sit with Mr. Ayden?" She gestured to a young man with brown hair and hard eyes. Sousuke knew what kind of eyes those were--they looked back at him in every reflective surface.

He obediently sat down, his bag in his lap, his spine perfectly straight.

[cobalt-soldier.livejournal.com]

Heero was startled out of the contemplation of the strange coupon by a nurse who placed another patient in the seat next to his, mostly because it had taken him a second to recognize the name she'd used, Ayden. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't chosen this assumed identity that made it all that much harder to remember: whatever the reason, it still felt wrong whenever he heard it.

Glancing at his newfound travelling companion, he couldn't help but notice the similarities between them. His eyes, his bearing... Heero couldn't help but wonder if they resemblance ran deeper.

"At ease," he said in a low voice, before he could stop the words from escaping his lips. Didn't this kid know the very bases of successful infiltration methods? "Or you'll stand out too much otherwise."

[uruz-vii.livejournal.com]

At ease? Sousuke frowned at the young man slightly, wondering if this was yet another officer he would have to pay respects to. Fortunately, standing in a moving vehicle wasn't advisable, so he couldn't stand at attention and draw unwanted attention to them.

Sousuke leaned back in his seat, slouching rather comically. He wasn't used to curling his spine in such an uncomfortable manner. With some difficulty, he crossed his arms over his chest and bore holes into the back of the seat in front of him with his eyes. "You have correctly identified me as a soldier, so you must be one yourself. Are you permitted to divulge your rank?"

[cobalt-soldier.livejournal.com]

Heero arched an eyebrow at his neighbor's demeanor: so his suspicions were correct, but the question remained, what organization was he part of? His first thoughts ran to OZ, and he tensed slightly, cursing the lack of weapons at hand, before remembering the words of the people he'd met since he'd woken up at Landel's: the place seemed to draw people from all walks of life, and all types of world as well, if what Relena believed was correct.

"Mobile suit pilot Heero Yuy," he stated, waiting for a reaction on the other's part. If he was OZ, the information was nothing they wouldn't know already.

[uruz-vii.livejournal.com]

Mobile suit? What the heck was that? Well, whatever it was, this Heero person had given him at least some information on himself. According to Kaname, it was only fair and proper that he return the favor. Even if Heero was a member of Amalgam or some other terrorist group.

Sousuke nodded to the seat in front of him, "Sergeant Sagara Sousuke," He paused as though considering. "Arm Slave pilot."

He wasn't allowed to talk about the Arbalest, after all. Especially with someone who could use the information against Mithril.

[cobalt-soldier.livejournal.com]

Another pilot then -even though the name meant nothing to him, at least he recognized the other man's rank-. For a split second he was reminded of Trowa's suit Heavyarms, and a pang of guilt hit him as he recalled the other pilot's sacrifice to save his life.

Well, that did nothing to improve his mood, and to top it all social graces weren't his forte, so he stumbled awkwardly over the next bit of conversation:

"It might be a pleasure in other circumstances, I'm sure," he said, referring to their current condition as mental ward patients. Still he held out his hand to shake Sousuke's as a gesture that he'd accepted the other's introduction.

[rappigs.livejournal.com]

[awaiting a certain blushing uke]

No one had ever said Emperor Peony Upala Malkuth IX was an unlucky man.

Unlike some of the other patients, who'd been handed outfits that would make them cringe nearly all day, Peony was rather used to wearing ridiculous things. Anything would be a welcome change from that horrid gray drab getup, though he had plans, epic plans to make something fashionable out of such non-cool threads. Plans that involved making his wash basin into a station to dye clothes. Plans that involved markers.

Although when Peony found himself waking up in his cool Tyvek outfit this morning, he frowned a little bit. He'd been looking forward to walking the halls with Luke fon Fabre. Though he did rather love having girls as company, he really did hold a special affection for the replica. Not everyone he knew ended up with a royal rappig named after him, after all! Maybe he could bug find him sometime today, hee hee.

Though in changing clothes, he found that his injuries from the past days had healed considerably. This was A+ news, and it'd be interesting for his Jade to discover the quick rate of healing. Iiiif he didn't know about it already, which he probably did.

So after he put on his new duds - Western duds, at that - complete with boots, tight jeans, a dark red button-up shirt and a deliciously apropos cowboy hat to keep his head warm, he looked himself over and nodded. Foreign clothes, but still somewhat reminiscent of a costume he'd seen the Kimlasca princess wear once. This would do.

Peony took a seat near the back of the bus, stretching out on it and letting the sun play across his face. The emperor's new clothes didn't really suit him, but he didn't care. In fact, he loved it. If this was what Landel's Institute was going to say he was, he would so play along.

After all, according to the tickets he'd been handed, today would be a day of relaxation and beauty~♥

[visualize.livejournal.com]

[Um you mean strong manly seme you twat.]

And so went by another night filled with endless possibilities, wasted in roughly the same manner as the one prior. At least the evening hadn't been completely in vain; after all, they managed to find another member of their group and he'd voiced out whatever issues came to mind at the time. It goes without saying that their pairs would most likely carry over in the evening to come, and now Luke finally had a weapon of his own, even if the Colonel was perplexed as to why the redhead hadn't found one sooner.

He had remembered what the head doctor told of them yesterday, and thus wasn't surprised to find a change of clothes once his nurse walked into his room and awoken him from his slumber. The attire was somewhat bulky, which was hardly necessary considering that his place of birth had a much colder climate than the autumn air that lingered outside.

The Colonel wore a long sleeved white shirt and tanned casual pants with worn brown penny loafers. But the nurse had also given him a large brown overcoat to wear, along with a faded red scarf to complete the picture. Also, with enough convincing, she managed to tie the man's hair into a loose ponytail so 'the wind wouldn't blow it in his face'.

If there was one thing that Jade hadn't been expecting it was strange yellow machines that were parked outside of the Institute. These 'buses', as his nurse put it, were certainly deserving of an examination, but he was urged into the closest one only moments after he'd been pulled out of the building. Much to his luck, his friend seemed to stick out like a sore thumb with his own bizarre set of clothes, and thus wandered over to his Majesty before inviting himself onto the seat next to him.

No words needed to be exchanged for now, as Jade already made it his duty to watch the blond’s every move once they arrived at their destination.

[rappigs.livejournal.com]

Peony knew that businesslike step by heart, even if it wasn't accompanied with those telltale heels, and he knew it was Jade who'd stepped up and sat down beside him, even without words needing to be passed between them... not like he wanted to hear Jade's voice anyway. He didn't want to be working on a headache just yet, after all.

It was nice knowing a clod like this for so long, if only because it was something similar from his life pre-Landel's. As much as there were uncomfortable things about being an emperor, he missed his rappigs and he missed bathing at the drop of a hat. In the royal baths. With cute girls to wash his hair~ ♥

Yes, the Malkuth emperor was both considerably less clean here, and simultaneously considerably less dirty.

And the machine they'd been ushered into was finally kicking into motion. Peony, eyes still closed, smiled in approval, imagining Gailardia and Saphir both grinning excitedly about the means of their little 'trip.' He'd just take what was coming to him, he imagined.

Finally he broke the silence between them, scooting the sleeve up his arm. The faint remnants of a few puncture wounds remained on his arm - proof of the bats from three nights ago. He was sure Jade could remember what it had looked like when he'd first shown him in the showers the other day, and equally sure Jade would get the point he was trying to get across - crazy-weird healing rates, purportedly without the use of Seventh fonic artes. "Weird, huh?"

[visualize.livejournal.com]

Of course, Peony had to ruin the moment of silence by speaking, but Jade guessed he could forgive his friend for how. He'd certainly have to pay for it later when they were finally out and about on the streets, but he'd play along for now. Though his demented thoughts were put to a halt when the blond pulled back his sleeve, showing off what he assumed to be the injury he sustained a few nights ago.

Yes, how could he not forget something that was practically shoved in his face, and from the Malkuth Emperor no less? As fitting to his nature, the Colonel took a hold of his friend's arm, examining it carefully just in case there were any other signs of imperfection other than the scars of his Majesty's wounds.

"Weird, but quite helpful." So the rate at which injuries healed was faster? It was ironic in a way, seeing as that the days felt much longer, though it proved to have its advantages for the staff that worked in the Institute. After all, who'd want to cut into marred flesh of beaten and broken patients? No, the fresher the better.

[rappigs.livejournal.com]

[ to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/244463.html?thread=17590767#t17590767) failfail ]

[wantsyourzex.livejournal.com]

Things either moved too quickly or too slowly... this morning fell into the former category. ZEX was roused and given some new human clothes to change into, and his confusion and general sleepiness didn't make changing into them any easier. The nurse was forced to help him a little in that department, and then he was ushered out on a bus with a bag, and that was that.

At least, that's what everyone was calling it. A bus. Some ancient form of human transportation, and he would have studied it in more detail if he hadn't been ushered inside of it so quickly. It wasn't a smooth ride by any means, and it rumbled and shook a great deal, making the possibility of going back to sleep difficult at the very least.

A smell in the air, probably from the bus's fuel source, although ZEX couldn't identify what the smell was, or what the fuel source for the vehicle could have been. No doubt humans had several fuel sources that he'd never heard of or encountered, and he was fairly sure this was one of those cases. This was hardly comfortable or a smooth ride though, and ZEX consoled himself with the thought that this must have been some truly ancient machinery, since humans must have been clever enough to quickly create transportation far more efficient and comfortable than this.

At least on par with his own species. He'd always thought humans were so clever. He'd hate to be disillusioned by...this shaky thing, of all things.

ZEX took a chance to look down at what he was wearing. A dark long-sleeved garment with some strange symbols across the front, and some weird, rough lower garments that were blue in color. His natural form was fairly resistant to the elements, so how well his new clothing kept in heat was somewhat new to him...humans put a great deal more emphasis on the function of their clothes than his species did, apparently.

ZEX rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. This was doing nothing for his everpresent headache.

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Morning arrived all too quickly, and as he literally rolled out of bed to the chagrin of his nurse, Kratos found himself wishing he needed to sleep as much as a Chosen on the Journey of Regeneration, meaning no need at all. If this was what he was going to be doing for the next few nights, he could only fathom the future effects.

"My goodness, you're a sleepy head. For shame, Mr. Clarke!" The nurse descended on him.

Several minutes later involving much fussing by his nurse, Kratos examined the faded navy turtleneck he had been stuffed into. It reminded him of a certain uniform, but the material was quite different. Concentrating more on the fabric's feel than what his nurse was saying (something about keeping out of trouble), he nodded absentmindedly in time as she gave him a brown paper bag and steered him toward something she called a "bus".

By "bus" the nurse meant a large yellow box on wheels. It certainly didn't look Exsphere-powered, nor mana-relient, but he could never be sure. If anything, this awkward vehicle represented a downward slide in technology compared to the machines of Cruxis.

Nodding for the last time in semi-acknowledgement as his nurse cheerfully told him to have fun, Kratos boarded the "bus", quickly searching for an unoccupied seat. Once suitably seated, he opened the bag. Its contents were food, but he couldn't see a way for one to possibly get anything out of the little box. An experimental shake that he hoped no one had seen told him that there was juice inside. Just as well, considering it said so on the front. But how to get anything out of it...?

He supposed that was probably what the bus ride was for, if he didn't fall asleep from exhaustion first.

[for-marian.livejournal.com]

Leon found himself being quickly hustled out of his room, and out of the Institute entirely, while he was still struggling with the fastenings on the strange trousers they'd given him. The buttons were very difficult to get into the holes, what with the twin encumbrances of the stiffness of the fabric and his own missing fingers.

A bag of some sort was shoved into his hands as he was all but thrown into what the nurse called a 'bus', which was apparently 'about to leave.' The thing jerked into motion as Leon was searching for somewhere to sit, and he basically just tumbled into a seat next to a serious-looking older man. Well, it was better than some chirpy kid, anyway. Better yet, the guy seemed as confused by this type of technology as he was, so probably wouldn't mock him or look at him like he was an idiot for not understanding 'flashlights' and 'radios'.

"Uh... good morning." Leon hid his mangled hand in the overlong sleeve of the 'sweater' they'd foisted on him, definitely not interested in anymore pitying or disgusted looks.

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Kratos quickly dropped the juice box back into the bag. He hadn't expected anyone to actually sit down next to him, nor did he particularly want anyone to. However, the young man who had dropped into the bench seemed decent enough. Long sweater, black hair...nothing that particularly stood out.

"Good morning." He returned the greeting, sizing the other man up quickly. Was there a reason one hand was so buried inside of his sleeve? It probably concerned some past incident...

...speaking of the past, Kratos made a mental note to avoid getting drawn into small talk as much as possible during the bus ride. The last thing he wanted was to discuss his life and the specifics of how he'd arrived. It tired him out, and that was the last thing he needed.

[for-marian.livejournal.com]

That suited Leon just fine--his own past and the events leading up to his arrival here were the very last thing he wanted to talk about, either. He was just thankful no one else from his world was present, or the jig would be up.

Bracing the bag on his lap with his right arm, hand still hidden in the sleeve, he fished around inside with his left. He saw the juice box, but doubted he'd have any better luck than the other man, but the cake-like thing seemed fairly self-explanatory, and he was rather hungry, having slept through dinner the previous day.

"I'm Leon Magnus." Exchanging names, at least, seemed reasonably harmless and polite.

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

Leon Magnus...the name had a feeling of power within it, as if the one who used it commanded some noticeable degree of respect. His own would as well, were it not tainted with four thousand years' worth of pain and sin.

"Kratos Aurion." It was only natural that he return the favor, but now Kratos was caught in a squeeze. His social skills (which most believed to be nonexistant) led him no farther, and he found himself at a loss for what to follow up with.

Damn those lifeless beings.

[for-marian.livejournal.com]

Leon would have been quite content to let the remainder of the trip pass in silence, but the movement of the bus was very quickly beginning to trigger his motion sickness, and since there was no convenient place for him to curl up and hide, the only thing he could think of to prevent an embarrassing display was distraction. He shoved the cake thing back into the bag, turning just a little green.

Not that he was any good at conversation, either. So he fell back on what seemed to be the default for this place: "Ah... have you been here long...?"

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

If Kratos had noticed the unhealthy shade Leon was turning, he chose not to mention it. "No. I 'arrived', to use that term loosely, yesterday. You?" The last word was tacked on as almost an afterthought, for some part of his mind was telling him he should end the talking now before he had to spill a sob story.

But at least the conversation was going somewhere. So far...so shallow.

[1mperturbable.livejournal.com]

So, what had happened anyway? There seemed to have been a battle, but then it was black all over again. It felt like a strange oppressive routine to wake up in bed not remembering how his night had ended in the first place, but Cloud grudgingly accepted it.

He had not complained when he was forced into new clothing and ushered off to a bright yellow school bus. Had he been from a larger town, this might have caused him to reminsce, but Nibelheim required him to walk to school. Still, the nurse giving him lunch made him feel as if he were supposed to be a ten-year-old somehow.

He had walked away before she could even think about giving him a kiss on the cheek like a mother might. The bus was a little crowded, but he managed to find a seat on his own where he could stare out the window.

Last night felt like he had done nothing at all. He also had avoided Barret prodding him more for answers. A bus ride might do him some good to continue to ponder over what Sephiroth had said to him in the first place.

[godhood.livejournal.com]

After how well last night had gone, Light supposed he should have expected things to take a downwards shift, but even so, he never would have anticipated something like this.

Which was why he wore a distinctly uncomfortable expression as he was led from his room in his new attire. Yes, it was a nice change to be out of that ridiculous uniform, but with what they'd chosen for him to wear instead, he almost would have preferred not changing at all. The black beanie didn't bother him, although it did make him mentally raise an eyebrow for a moment (he'd worn one very similar to it the day he killed Raye Penbar), nor did the baggy-- very baggy and faded black jeans (thank god they'd given him a belt to keep them from falling down), but the shirt...

Like the jeans, the t-shirt he'd been given was a black that had faded into a dark, dark gray, but the worst part was the design printed onto it: a ribcage decorated the front and back of it (providing front and back views of the skeleton on each corresponding side) and a small band logo on the right sleeve. And the name of the band? "The Killers."

Someone was going to die for this.

He'd also been provided a long-sleeved gray shirt to wear with it, but instead of being able to wear it over the shirt, his nurse had insisted that he wear it under. So much for hiding the damn thing-- but maybe he'd be lucky and not run into L at all today? If the detective saw him wearing this, he didn't think he'd be able to stand it. It was bad enough that L knew he was Kira, but flaunting that fact when both of them were maintaining the illusion of civility was just asking for trouble.

At least his wrist was healing. It was still being held immobilized in its sling, but it wasn't as painful as it had been yesterday. Light could almost be grateful for that since it meant his shirt was at least partially obscured, but all the same, he would have preferred having full use of his arm back.

He banished these thoughts from his mind as he finally reached the buses and boarded the third one, carefully schooling his expression into one of the utmost calm as he found himself a place to sit and began eating his muffin. The rest of the field trip had better make up for this.

[tendencytohiss.livejournal.com]

This was all ever so slightly disorienting, and the continuation of an overall downward trend.

First, he'd woken up here: mental institute staffed by hell itself. (Well, probably. This was still open for debate, but debate had gotten a great deal less interesting to Crowley since humans stopped settling things with duels.) Then, night had fallen and everything had gotten bloody predictable and incredibly annoying. Crowley tried not to think about the leeches, but they'd been there too, and the only thing making up for any of this was that the Angel was somehow here too.

Not that he could find Aziraphale now, since the night had faded out and he'd woken up in his room and been forced to dress in...in this shirt, this amazingly, eye-searingly neon bright shirt. It was even smiling, a vacuous and contented grin arching over the words "Have a Nice Day."

Crowley wanted to kill it.

And now, and now, he was on a bus - a moving, crowded bus, mind you - going on a field trip to hell town. Public transportation was the devil, and Crowley would know - it had almost been one of his ideas.

There hadn't even been any open seats, either. He'd had to sit down next to a (Demon? Not a demon? At this point, Crowley was losing the ability to care) man with his arm in a sling.

[seiran314.livejournal.com]

After wearing that orange turtleneck for years, Aya couldn't pass as a fashion statement in any light. What the nurses presented him with this morning earned a quirked brow from the annoyed redhead. Red corduroy over worn out sneakers and a simple long sleeved, gray t-shirt, doubled with a tattered cardigan. Pieces of fabric sewn together to keep him warm, that was all. With a bag of breakfast he was ushered to the buss, where he picked a random lonely seat and made himself busy by staring out of the window.

Pointless was the best he could describe his general mood at the moment, world weary and tired. It could have been just simply morning grogginess as well, but he doubted it had little to do with yawning and lack of caffeine, more with overall irritation and frustration. It started to be hard to count days in this madhouse and all he seemed to be prone gathering was injuries. All other thoughts he pushed aside persistently, Weiss, Kikyo, Ken, Schwarz, everything. He'd have to talk with them eventually, and find Crawford (, which surprisingly didn't seem like unfavored activity at the moment compared to the rest of his 'to do' list). But for now, he'd just doze off on his solitary seat and try spy the surroundings as much as he could.

[thehellismycar.livejournal.com]

He was staring into his father's eyes, only what he saw there was that yellow-eyed sonofabitch who'd fooled them this far into the night. The golden glint, winking at him through the shadows, fixated him; terrifyingly aware his father's chances of escaping the possession alive were near to none.

"You know you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is... they don't need you! Not like you need them!"

What then occurred was... different. The Demon was glancing over its puppet, a questionable amount of concentration on the forearms...

A swift sense of terror rippled inside him. Several horrifically defined stripes of blood began to bloom on his father's shirt, thin red trails trickling downward. He- he wanted to cry out, beg The Demon to stop it - 'Let him go, or I swear to God-' - when...

The words were there on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth wouldn't move. Instead, he gazed with intense focus on the elder hunter, who had started screaming with agony distinctly carved on his features.

"Dean...! Don't let it... fight! Fight it...! Son, don't you let it kill me...!" His father's head lolled back, the light in his green eyes starting to fade.

"... Son, please..."

Dean felt his lips arc upwards.

--

"Mr. Patterson, please, we're here. What's the matter?"

And that was it. A freakin' nightmare and he was falling to pieces. He had the thickest lump in his throat, red half-moon rivets in both palms as he willed twitchy fingers to relax. His heart thumped violently against his chest, irregular gasps bringing hell to his self-control.

Face white as death, his heart was surely in his windpipe, and he swallowed hard as he acknowledged the nurse in his company.

"... Nothing." Dean coughed. "It's nothing."

The change of clothes was... refreshing, maybe serving as a damp towel to help cool him off. But the gears in his head were turning and dammit everything just...