damned_institute | Day 32: Intercom, Dawn

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Day 32: Intercom, Dawn

The sky was slightly cloudly as the sun began to rise into the sky, but not enough to put a damper on the Head Doctor's daytime mood. The sound of him humming the intercom jingle came on just as the jingle itself ended, and he paused as he realized his silly antics had been caught on the microphone.

"Ah..hem. Good morning, Landel's Institute! Patients, staff, and everyone else... I am sad to say that the ruckus last night was about a certain something being stolen from our upper levels. While some of our guards received minor wounds during the attack, no one was seriously injured and none of our patients or doctors were involved.

"To get our minds off this horrible event, however, let me announce something very happy, and that is... you guessed it: the arrival of new patients! We have a very large batch coming in this morning, so I hope that all the nurses will be patient--but firm!--with their new charges while our patients will, as always, welcome their new friends with open arms.

"In any case, today's breakfast will be delicious Belgian waffles with your choice of toppings--syrup, butter, whipped cream, and assorted fresh fruits are all available. As sides, we have bacon, sausage, tater tots, and scrambled eggs, and as always, we have assorted juices and milk.

"We hope that you all enjoy breakfast and the new members of the patient body. I will speak to you all after breakfast!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post. (Have your new character wake up in a random empty room, as we aren't yet able to officially assign rooms.) Thanks! ]

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Allelujah blinked up at the white ceiling, eyes still blurry from crying and the few hours of fitful sleep that he’d managed since the last attack. He didn’t remember much about anything that had happened since then; docking Kyrios, the faces of Tieria and Setsuna and the crew, all were blurred and unclear. He could only assume that Hallelujah had been the one to get them back to their quarters while Allelujah tried to deal with their loss. Lockon… it didn’t feel real.

It wasn’t surprising that it took him a few moments to realise that the ceiling he was staring at wasn’t the ceiling of his quarters. The cell? Had he done something? No, it wasn’t padded and he was on a bed, not the floor. He frowned, sitting up slowly ad running through a list of places that it could possibly be on the Ptolemaios and coming up utterly blank. His feet hit the floor and he stood, eyes widening at the distinct presence of gravity in the room. He nearly over balanced at first, automatically trying to compensate for the change like he did every time he was on Earth.

He looked carefully around the room, the first threads of panic growing in him as he recognised the scent of harsh disinfectant and the drab baggy grey t-shirt that he was wearing. He half expected to see wires and needles sticking into his skin, cloth patches showing where blood samples had been taken.

Nothing. He stared blankly at the yellow smiley face pasted on the front of the shirt. That place definitely hadn’t used a smiley face. He rather doubted that anyone who could have captured him would use a symbol like that on its prisoners either.

Earth or an unknown colony in some kind of facility and he didn’t know what had happened to Kyrios or the Ptolemaios. Had they all been captured or whatever this was?

Allelujah…

Allelujah looked up at Hallelujah’s voice, visible eye widening as he caught the sound of footsteps in the corridor approaching. Their captors? The door handle rattled and Allelujah turned sharply, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He pulled himself up to his full height, wariness in every movement and moved to near the door so that he’d have a moment to see whoever entered before they saw him.

But the person who entered wasn’t a guard, but a woman in a nurse’s outfit. She looked around and then smiled at him warmly. Allelujah looked her over warily, expecting to see her pull out a needle or some kind of drug at any moment. But there didn’t seem to be anything. Not yet anyway.

The woman looked around and spotted him, smiling gently at him in a way that made him instantly mistrustful. People didn’t smile like that unless there was something terrible about to happen. “Ah, Jude, you’re awake.” She said, bustling towards him and reaching out to grasp his arm.

Allelujah pulled his arm back sharply, taking a step away from her, his expression hardening. “Where am I? What is this facility?”

The woman still smiled that condescending sympathetic smile, shaking her head slightly. “Ah, it’s probably not wonder you don’t remember dear. You were asleep when you arrived after all. This is Landel’s Mental Institute, Jude. You’re ill. But don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be fine after a while here. Lots of time to rest and get better.”

Allelujah tensed, a horrified expression flickering across his face for a moment before he quashed it. A mental institute? He shuddered at the thought. What had he done to make them send him here?

She's lying.

Well, that was helpful. He hoped Hallelujah got the impression that he was glaring at him. "I shouldn't be here. They wouldn't put me in this kind of place if I'd been captured." And he really didn't want to think about the other thought, that his friends had left him here.

Told you they were too good to be true

The woman sighed again, breaking him away from the internal conversation. "Now dear, I'm sure you'll start feeling better in no time. I know you don't like hospitals, but this isn't like a normal hospital after all. Why don't I take you to meet some new friends?"

New friends? Maybe the others were being held here too... He forced down the surge of anger from Hallelujah and managed a fake looking smile before nodding.

Oh god ohgodohgodohgod why is this happening to me? Elle's mind raced frantically, trying to understand how Bennet could do that.

He'd shot her. He'd...

But she wasn't on the beach anymore. She must've passed out. Daddy... he'd... he'd brought her home. Only, no, this wasn't the Facility, at least not the one in Hartsdale.

"Daddy?" she called tentatively, allowing her eyes to adjust to the cold light before sitting up. Funny, the gunshot wound didn't hurt like it should. She clambered off the bed, and checked her arm. It was completely undamaged.

"Daddy?" she called again. He didn't keep video surveillance in the rooms, but this wasn't Hartsdale. Maybe there were cameras here... Maybe he was watching remotely... Maybe... "Daddy!" She called much louder this time, a note of panic creeping into her voice. He wouldn't just leave her here! He'd be by her side, waiting for her to wake up because he loved her!

"Good morning, Miss Cardinal," a voice said gently.

Elle rounded on the newcomer with a snarl, releasing a blast of electricity powerful enough to knock her down, but not enough to kill. Daddy would be so mad if she killed anyone else.

But nothing happened! "The Haitian!" she whispered to herself. She flexed her fingers angrily, trying to call up even the tiniest spark, but none came. "They've got me on the Haitian pills."

The newcomer, a bland woman all in white, walked over to Elle and attempted to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, but the girl brushed it away irritably.

"It's time for breakfast, Miss Cardinal," the woman - Elle could only assume she was some kind of nurse - said sternly.

"I don't want breakfast! You better take me to my father right now, because if he finds out I'm being treated like a common patient, he will demolish you," she threatened quite coldly. "And my name isn't Cardinal, it's Bishop. As in Robert Bishop, who runs this place."

The nurse, however, seemed unimpressed. "Why don't you come along with me? It will do you good to mingle, dear."

"No. I want you to tell me exactly where I am and what's going on," Elle demanded, crossing her arms.

"You're in Landel's Institute, and you were placed in here for your own good," the nurse said in what she probably thought was a soothing tone of voice. She reached out a hand again, and this time Elle allowed the woman to touch her shoulder. "Now do come along, Miss Cardinal."

"This is..." Elle began weakly. What was going on? Had Daddy put her here? Was she being punished for something? "It wasn't my fault," she whispered as the nurse led her from the room. "He was on to us..."

"An-another dream! Yes, that's what it is! Certainly I'm not awake! Yohohoho!" Brook rambled out quickly before finishing with a nervous laugh. As he tried to convince himself with words, his gaze remained fixated on his hands, fingers clenching back and forth for what must have been the hundredth time. No matter how many times he did it, they were still the same - honest to goodness fingers with skin covering the bone. He could see the calluses he'd earned from playing his instruments, and there was even some dirt under his fingernails for effect!

Never mind that the place he'd awoken in hadn't been the cabin of a ship, or that his clothes were different, or that his Nakama on the Straw Hat Pirate Crew were missing or that he couldn't see hide nor hair of the Rumbar Pirates or... well or anything some other person would have noticed really! He shouldn't have been dreaming about being back in his human body in the first place! Things had been settled! He had a crew willing to take him back to Laboon so that he could fulfill his promise; his journey was going to be completed! So why this again, and why so... so... he honestly couldn't place it. This dream didn't feel at all like it should have, or would have, or could have. Everything about it felt far more real than any of his previous dreams had ever allowed.

But that was just too impossible!

His head jerked up, eyes (if they were really there at all) turning to look at a wall. "Yes, I'll just have to wake myself up!" he announced then took one long stride towards the wall. It just had to be a dream, so there was really only one safe way to wake himself up. Well, safe for someone who weighted only as much as a pile of dead bones.

"Forty-five degrees!" He fell forward face first towards the wall and expected that his lack of weight would allow him to lean against the wall in a perfect right triangle. The triangle was managed for all of a second before Brook’s face went sliding the length of the wall and then crashed into the floor. "I... tai!" he yelped, rolling over and grabbing at his wall-burned face. The skin, and it definitely still felt like it was skin, was warm and stung like no tomorrow! His nose particularly!

"T-t-t-t-t-that can't be!" his voice cracked with panic through his stuttered rush. It hurt. It hurt! It couldn't hurt! Hurting meant that... that this was... that he was...! "SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!" he shrieked, bolting to his feet and throwing his hands towards the ceiling. Either a dream or a nightmare or reality, he didn't care anymore! He just needed to know!

"Mister Rousseau?!" the nurse shrieked in response to his own as she stood gawking in the doorway.

The shouting stopped on both sides and Brook, turning only his head back to see, manage a very simple "Eh?" at seeing her.

"Really, it's far too early for you to be shouting, and you're already awake, I assure you," she continued calmly as she scurried in to get him. He'd calmed down easily enough so maybe he'd just had a bad dream. Poor thing. "Everything's all right now, so let's get you to breakfast, hm? There are so many other patients for you to meet."

Watching the white-clad woman enter and speak registered, but did not get Brook to move from his position. He'd already been faced with the shock of a situation that wasn't possible, and now there was something completely random making an appearance! What in the Grand Line was going on!? "I'm… a-awake?" he stuttered, trying to get his facts straight.

"Yes, I already told you so," she nodded.

He broke his stance, whirling around in one sweep of panic. "Then the captain...!" Yorki... was it Yorki or... or Luffy? He paused, unable to grasp the words. So many questions were coming to him. If he was awake - really, really awake and alive and with the skin he could feel clinging to his frame - then had everything just been a dream? But how was it possible to dream up such heartache and joy all at once?! And the Straw Hat Crew - they had become his Nakama! Such wonderful friends could not simply be dreamt up! He put a hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling dizzy.

What a terrible dream he must have had to have been rattled so? The nurse frowned, then reached out and took his free hand. "It's all right, dear. Just a bad dream. You'll feel better after you get some food in you."

For all of his confusion, Brook allowed himself to be led by the woman. Maybe she was right, and since he never did pass up the opportunity for food, it could help him get things straight. And this could all still be a dream somehow. That was always a possibility.

Just another dream.

Harry would've liked to be able to say that, when he saw that creature about to stab Peter with his hoverboard, time slowed to a crawl like you saw in the movies and that he knew what would happen to him before he acted. That would be lie however. Everything happened in a split second, he saw the blades coming towards Peter and realised in that moment, that the one thing he couldn't deal with was Peter dying. Harry's sole thought, when he dove in front of Peter, was that he had to save him, no matter what it took. Getting impaled, by his own hoverboard no less, hadn't exactly been what he'd intended.

Later, as he lay bleeding out in MJ's arms, Harry wondered if it had been worth it. It wasn't until he heard Peter's voice that he decided, given the choice, he'd gladly do the same thing again. Feeling everything slip away, Harry closed his eyes as he sunk into darkness, reassured that he'd finally, finally managed to do something right....

Opening his eyes, the first thought that crossed his mind was that the bed he was currently lying on was distinctly less comfortable than what he was used to. His second thought was that, after bravely sacrificing your life to save that of your best friend, the quality of the bedding wasn't supposed to be a major concern. If this was the afterlife he definitely wanted a refund. Sitting up and looking around, Harry decided he probably wasn't in any sort of afterlife the churches wanted you to believe in. Lifting his shirt (or at least, the shirt he was wearing, it certainly wasn't anything he himself would have chosen to wear) Harry stared blankly at where he distinctly remembered sporting two gaping wounds what seemed like only seconds ago.

He was just contemplating getting up and trying to find out what was going on - and what had happened to his chest wounds, not that he missed them, but it was a bit disconcerting to wake up perfectly fine after dying - when the door opened and a nurse bustled in.

“Awake already, are we Mr. Osborn?” she trilled, “and how are we feeling this morning?”

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment before asking, "Where am I? And what the hell is going on here?"

Smiling in a slightly condescending manner, the nurse replied, "You're at Landel's Institute, you just arrived this morning, dear. You've been... unwell. But don't worry, we're going to have you all better in no time!"

Unwell? Harry frowned. "What do you mean 'unwell'? Last thing I remember was..." Wait, did anyone know it had been him at the construction site? Maybe Peter and MJ had given some excuse for his injuries, to protect his identity?

Watching him a moment, the nurse smiled again, glancing at his face and quickly looking away again. "It's understandable you're a little confused, you've had a rather trying time, so I hear."

Noticing her gaze, Harry raised a hand to the side of his face, brushing his fingers over the scars there. Scowling at the expression of pity on her face, he snapped, "Could you explain just what you mean by saying I've been 'unwell'? Somehow I don't think you mean a bout of the 'flu. The last thing I remember, I'd been stabbed, now I'm fine! Just what the hell is going on here!"

"Now, calm down Mr Osborn, there's no need to shout," the nurse replied disapprovingly. "You're perfectly fine and there's certainly no need for you to get so worked up."

Harry frowned, not sure what to think. How long had it been since the fight in the construction site? Had he gotten amnesia again? A voice at the back of his mind that sounded worryingly like his father's muttered something about selective forgetfulness, but Harry was used to ignoring things that he didn't want to think about.

Smiling once again, the nurse came over and patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry yourself too much about what's happened, just focus on getting better. Why don't we start by getting you some breakfast? Maybe getting some food in you and meeting some of the other patients will help you cheer up!" Not waiting for a response, the nurse gently tugged on Harry's arm, leading him out of the room and into, well, wherever he was.

Sylar's grip on the case was the last thing he remembered before hitting the wall of glass. It held the cure, his cure, and its absence was the first thing he noticed when he came to.

His eyes snapped open and he jolted up, feeling his person for the case and finding nothing. His eyes narrowed as his line of vision darted around the room; it was white and bare; it had two desks and two beds. He wasn't wearing what he had in Suresh's lab and he couldn't feel any wounds from being hit, but wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was...

"The healing blood," Sylar growled, body tense as he stood from the bed. This must have been a prison cell, because only prison cells made him feel as powerless and caged and enraged as this. He'd just gotten his hands on the cure! The cure! Had Mohinder tricked him with a drug in the needle? Had Maya knocked him out with the ability she didn't deserve? If they had, he wouldn't kill them when he saw them again since he still had use for them. But once he'd gotten all he could get, he'd make sure their deaths were slow. He looked forward to seeing what they'd say when they begged.

But he couldn't do that unless he had the cheerleader's blood, and right now he could only hope that the Company operative that appeared through the door would be ill-prepared like the last ones. After all, he'd escaped them twice. They were stupid and they underestimated his resourcefulness even without his abilities.

Sylar's eyes rested on the desk at the foot of his bed. He walked over towards it, pulled out the drawer, and smirked when he saw its contents. Pens? Really, it was insulting how little they thought of him, the perfect product of natural selection.

He heard a noise just beyond the door and paused before he grabbed a pen out of the roll and hid it in his palm. He carefully watched the door as it opened and his eyes followed the woman who subsequently walked in. She was wearing a nurse's costume, and a quaint one at that.

He was about to ask her if this was the Company's idea of a joke when she said something he hadn't been expecting:

"Zachary Blaine..?" She asked, looking up at him questioningly.

Sylar stared at her, gears turning in his head for a few seconds before his expression slowly widened into a warm smile.

"Yes, that's me," he said. His body visibly relaxed, though his grip on the pen stayed tight. Perhaps he had been hasty to jump to conclusions, but he couldn't be too sure. "Is this a hospital?"

The nurse gave a weirdly relieved sigh and smile. "You could say that," she said. "This is Landel's Institute, a hospital for the mentally ill."

Sylar frowned in a way that the nurse could interpret as concerned. This threw a wrench in any theory he'd come up with, but checking himself out wouldn't be a problem so long as they mistook him for someone else.

"I'm sorry," he said with an apologetic laugh, looking back to the female nurse, "but my head's a little fuzzy today. Could you remind me when I'm scheduled to be discharged?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Mr. Blaine. But--" she interjected, beaming at him, "if you keep up such stellar behavior, I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Landel gave you an early stamp of approval himself!"

Sylar smiled wide enough to show his teeth.

"Then I guess I'll make sure to behave."

“Good morning Landel's Institute!”

John jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. The explosion had been so close. Where had it come from? He looked around, expecting to see his mother standing beside him, the same look of panic on her face before she masked it but she wasn't there. That panicked John even more.

“Mom?” he called, hating that his voice cracked as he said that. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. It was a bad dream. He'd had them before. It was some sort of weird Connor legacy that he'd be plagued with nightmares. This all had to be a bad dream.

"To get our minds off this horrible event, however, let me announce something very happy, and that is... you guessed it: the arrival of new patients!”

Horrible event? What horrible event? It wasn't time! They still had years before Judgment day! At least, he thought they did. Could that explosion have been something else? No, no, oh god. It couldn't be true. If it had happened there would be no talk of patients or anything. This would all be gone. Something else must have happened. The explosion must have alerted the police... Why didn't he remember?

“Mom!” he called louder, sliding out of what he realized was a bed. His normal clothing was gone and in their place was this horrible gray shirt with a sadistic looking smiley face. Some kids at school might have liked it as it was creepy enough to be 'cool' but it didn't give him a good impression about where he was. What sort of patient was he?

John tried to listen to the rest of the man's voice coming over the intercom but all he talked about was breakfast and once again mentioning the arrival of 'new patients' before clicking off. So he was a patient and judging by the room and the clothes and the way the beds were bolted to the floor it was a mental hospital. He shivered, remembering the last hospital he'd been in. He hadn't been a patient that time but he'd seen the wild look in his mother's eyes as they broke her out and it frightened him. John may have thought she was crazy once before but nothing compared to the way she was the moments after the mental hospital. They never talked about it much and it scared John to think that she could end up there again. He just never figured that he was in danger of landing in the same situation.

The door opened and a nurse walked in, a bright smile on her face as she glanced down at the clipboard in her hand. “Hello there, Mr. Connor,” she said, making him flinch at the name. He'd been running from it for so long that he half expected a Terminator to appear at the mere mention of it. John held his breath for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop and watching the nurse closely.

But it didn't seem as if the nurse needed confirmation. Her smile turned a little sad as she looked down at the clipboard, clicking her tongue as she muttered something about the problem with the world today that kids do such horrible things. John wanted to ask what it was she meant but she looked up swiftly after making a small note on the clipboard with her pen and the bright smile was back, plastered on her face.

“Well, Mr. Connor, it seems as though you've arrived just in time for breakfast. I'm sure you're hungry. Why don't you come with me and I can show you to the cafeteria?”

John didn't see how he had much of a choice in the matter. Still, if this was a hospital, perhaps they'd let him call his Mom or at least find out where his Mom was being kept. If he was in the crazy house he didn't think it was much of a stretch that his Mother ended up in the same place. “I can make a phone call here, can't I?” he asked, following the nurse as she walked out of his room. But she didn't seem to hear him which made John frown. It was one thing to be called crazy, it was another thing to be completely ignored.

“Hey,” he shouted at her, needing to jog to keep up with her swift pace. “Hey! Look, if I can't make a phone call then at least tell me what happened to my Mom? Where...”

“Here we are,” the nurse said brightly, opening the doors to the cafeteria. “I have other patients to greet so why don't you go inside and grab a tray. It's Belgian waffle day.”

John scowled at her, opening his mouth to once again ask for information about his Mom but she had already turned and left, leaving him alone in front of the cafeteria. This was not turning out to be a very good day. “So much for cake and singing Happy Birthday,” he grumbled, walking through the doors. “I get a one way ticket to the crazy shack. Happy Birthday to me.”

"The time has come, gypsy. You stand on the brink of the abyss... yet even now, it is not too late. I can save you from the flames of this world and the next... Choose me or the fire." That disgusting smile speaking that equally disgusting proposition... It wasn't exactly what she wanted to keep in mind as her eyes fluttered open to the bright white of the sky above her.

Wait... make that ceiling. Esmeralda pulled herself up, only to find the same colored walls all around her- she instantly hated it. Sticking out of all the white was a women, wearing the same color actually, who gave the gypsy a soft smile.

"It's nice to see you awake, Agnès! You gave your family quite a scare. But don't worry, dear, you'll get better soon." At the raised eyebrow she got in response, the woman continued. "You're at Landel's Institute, Agnès."

"'Agnès?' You know, it's actually pronounced Esmeralda," she said dryly, just now taking note of what she was wearing. Just... what was it?

"Now, now, Ms," the nurse paused, obviously not going to try and pronounce whatever was written on that wooden slab(?) she held and instead went for the easy route, "Ms. C. Your friends are all waiting for you in the cafeteria- you wouldn't want to keep them worried, would you?"

Her friends...? Phoebus, Quasi, Djali, and Clopin? They were here? As if the woman had to say anything more than that to get Esmeralda off the bed and following her out the room (albeit cautiously), only to reveal more white walls and blindingly bright lights.

This had to have been some smoke-inhalation induced nightterror. Either that, or...

There's nothing to fear, but fear itself...and I'm here to hel-

The former doctor woke with a start. He had been riding, or at least imagining riding, away on the police horse screaming incoherently because of what that...bitch had done. There was just nothing else to call her. Jonathan Crane had never thought of tasers as particularly much fun, especially when turned against oneself, but when being hit in the face with them...

No, those things were nothing but pain.

Looked like that had only been a nightmare, at least. Or so Crane thought initially, as he glanced around the room, not quite sure what to make of it. It wasn't his apartment: the walls were too white, the room too small, and there was one bed and desk too many. He was only vaguely aware of the intercom, and was mostly tuning it out, although the words "stolen", "patients", and "breakfast" caught his interest. Not to mention his clothes...the former doctor would have never been caught anywhere, in any form, wearing them; at least, not if he could get away with it. It was a dull, depressing gray, not unlike much of Gotham, and there was a tacky yellow smiley face in the center of the shirt. It sat there, mocking him.

But this place certainly wasn't anywhere in Arkham, as Crane knew all too well. They never gave them desks in Arkham, and the cells were even smaller. The place was home to criminals, after all, and usually dangerous ones at that.

A dream within a nightmare perhaps?

Crane's face stung at the memory of the taser. It was far too vivid to be a dream, but it couldn't have possibly been true, could it? He brought a hand to his face, but was surprised to find that he did have something on his face; scar tissue on his cheek, no less. It was smaller than he may have expected, considering his entire face had felt on fire, but it was definitely a scar. But regardless of how much Crane wanted to know why he had a burn scar when that couldn't have possibly happened -- after all, if it hadn't been a dream, then he would have taken care of Ms. Dawes somehow before the Batman managed to show up -- the main question remained Where on Earth was he?

It had to have been a mental institution of some sort...that part he was fine with. He'd always felt most at home at Arkham, anyway. What he didn't understand was why he couldn't remember how he got here, or even who had admitted him. Or even better...where this place was, and what it was called.

Of course, before he could get up and begin looking into the matter, the nurse popped in. She was dressed in white, just like the walls, and had a burly orderly with her. But her smile annoyed him the most. She was obviously attempting to be cheery for his sake, but he'd worked around people like her long enough to tell when the smiles were fake. This was one of those times.

"Good morning, Mr. Finch!" she chirped, and simultaneously silenced anything Crane may have asked about this place.

"Mr. Finch?" he asked, very thoroughly confused. The only Mr. Finch he knew was the former district attorney, and if he remembered correctly, that man had gone missing. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I believe you have the wrong person."

"I'm sorry, but I don't," she said, giving him an almost pitying look that irritated him even more than her fake smile. "A lot of our patients say that. You're in Landel's Institute, and you're here to get better."

Landel's Institute. Well, it confirmed his suspicions of the place being a mental institution, but Crane had never heard of the place before. It must have been either new, or...he didn't quite know what else. This whole situation had handicapped his ability to think this through entirely rationally.

Then again...who was to say that his dream within a nightmare theory was wrong? The longer he sat on the bed, the more he was starting to like that theory. If nothing else, he could go along with the charade for now and hope that he woke up soon.

"I see," he replied, standing up and staring around the room once more before meeting the woman's gaze. "Then may I ask what our itinerary for the day is? And perhaps a tour?" Even if this was a dream, he still felt he needed to know the layout. And if anything strange showed up in the itinerary, then that would be proof enough that it was a dream.

"Of course!" the nurse replied, seeming relieved that he'd cooperated. As she babbled on about the room and the fact that Crane would be having to deal with someone else every night, except in more cheerful terms. After a moment, she stepped back towards the door. "Let's go on now. I'm sure you're hungry, and there's a wonderful breakfast waiting for you. You may even make a new friend or two!"

As he followed her, Crane couldn't help but think that he severely doubted it.

Wolfram would have much preferred to sleep in; these days there just wasn't any desire to get up in the mornings now that Yuuri was... gone. In fact, most of the time he did give in to that desire, until either duties could not wait any longer or else the fact that he was sleeping alone in the bed finally got to him. But today... something did not feel quite right, he could hear a voice announcing something about an event and nurses and breakfast, but the words jumbled all together as he stirred restlessly while he climbing his way out of sleep.

The room was too bright, was his first thought. It was whiter than usual and he squinted in annoyance. He also realized after a moment or two that this was not his usual bed. And with that revelation came waking up the rest of the way in an instant, and Wolfram sat up in wary confusion.

Where the hell was he?

His first thought was possibly kidnapping. Perhaps he'd been drugged and grabbed in the middle of the night, and now he was being kept in a strange looking cell somewhere? But he would have remembered something like that, and his body didn't feel like he'd been knocked out or had any sign of a struggle. But then how...?

"Alex Lock, you're awake I see."

Wolfram's attention quickly shifted to the intruder of the room, his hand automatically going towards where he sword should be... only he was unarmed. The woman looked to be dressed like a nurse of some sort, or at least gave off that general impression, and he physically relaxed, although his gaze stayed cautious. Wasn't he just dreaming about nurses?

She gave him a concerned look at the response, but deciding that he wasn't going to be hostile, she continued. "Don't worry, it's always a little confusing and disorienting for the new patients."

"Patients? Where am I? Where's Brother at?" And then Wolfram realized that she had used a different name as well when she'd entered. "And who is this 'Alex Lock' person?"

"That would be you, dear," she explained patiently. "This is Landels Institute, and you're here because your family was concerned about you. But I'm sure if you're well behaved, a visit might be arranged in the future." She smiled at him warmly. "But! For now, a nice hot breakfast is waiting for you, and I'm sure you'll be able to make lots of new friends, especially with such a cute face like yours."

Wolfram had certainly never heard of a "Landels" place before, especially not in Shin Makoku. They must be in a human country somewhere. But if that was the case, he should have been feeling the sickness that comes with houseki.... This was all too confusing.

"And if I refuse?" he asked, his tone starting to increase with annoyance. He didn't like not knowing what was going on.

"Then you'll miss out on the waffles. Now come along, there's other patients to attend to this morning, and you'll adjust much faster once you meet some of the others."

Part of Wolfram wanted to throw a tantrum, to demand to know what was going on, why he couldn't remember anything about his arrival. Usually if he was being held hostage, he would at least know of their intentions, and it was never like this. But the rest of Wolfram decided that it would be a waste of energy, and as his soldier instincts kicked in he decided that cooperating would probably end up better in his favor.

With a heavy sigh and a reluctant nod, Wolfram stood up, the floor cold on his feet until the nurse pointed out a pair of slippers for him to use. The clothes he was wearing felt strange too, and he tried to fix the tangled strands of his hair as he started to follow her down the hallway. His guard remained up the entire time.

There was a fight. Weapons of all sorts were dancing through the air as the atmosphere was frazzled by the continuous spellcasting. Eventually one fell while six others surrounded him and he confessed everything. To him, their faces started to fade, but he had a few last words before he went.

"...Make sure you destroy my Cruxis...Cry...stal..."

Everything went black.

"Good morning, Landel's Institute!"

With a shock, Zelos sat up in bed, sweat dripping down his neck. His first thought was that whatever that dream was, it was pretty accurate of what...

Oh wait. He had done that. Damn.

Zelos lifted his shirt (gray with a smiley face? Ew.) up and inspected his body. No signs of any wounds at all. So either he really was dead and was transported to who knows where, or whoever healed him did one helluva job.

Just as he was setting his shirt back on his body, the door flew open. A nurse in white waltzed in with a cheery smile and greeted Zelos with a, "Oh, Mr. Reid! You're all awake now!"

Zelos, trying to beat down his expression of surprise, responded with his own chirpy, "Oh hunny! Didn't see you there! You could've knocked though...wouldn't want me to get a heart attack, right~?"

He wondered why someone would mistake him of all people for another, but he didn't voice it.

Kicked out of his thoughts by a firm tug on his wrist, he looked up to see her suddenly looming over him.

"Come now, Mr. Reid, wouldn't want to miss breakfast after all."

With one last smile, she dragged him to the Cafeteria as Zelos was just a bit stunned by her forcefulness.

Sleep was an art form, and like many people at his apparent age, Roxas had mastered it. Comfortable beds were, at his level of expertise, totally optional; the same could be said for blankets, which is probably why he went without during the hotter months (days? whatever) in Twilight Town. However, the art didn’t include the actual process of waking up, so when Roxas opened his eyes and found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room, this new development was received with absolutely no grace whatsoever.

That was why, once his initial confusion had worn off, Roxas’s attempt to simultaneously sit up, kick off the sheets, yawn, and take a wide-eyed look around catapulted him off of the bed and onto the floor.

“What the—whoa!”

Thud.

“Ow!”

Roxas lay on the floor for a moment after he’d been “relocated,” clutching at his head with his eyes squeezed shut. He’d been unlucky enough to knock it against the dresser on his way down, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a bump was starting to form where he’d been hit. Great. What a way to start the day.

Grimacing, Roxas gently massaged his scalp and tried once more to examine the room, this time through a pained wince. There was the rumpled bed he’d just fallen out of (he gave it a small glare), the dresser (this received a much larger glare, as well as a poorly aimed kick—that hurt!), yet another bed, two desks, two chairs…

He pushed himself off of the floor, giving his head a shake before finally taking his hand away. More upsetting than the room he was in, of course, was the fact that… well, the fact that he was. He existed, and while that would have been fine on its own, he could neither see nor feel any sign of Sora, which could only mean… what? Had his other been turned into a Heartless again? But they’d been on Destiny Islands just a minute ago! Roxas knew that much at least, but since he was here now… what the heck was going on?

Roxas was sure of one thing, though: someone had to be yanking his chain. This definitely wasn’t Twilight Town, and he’d been aware enough of what Sora had been doing to know that the Organization had been eradicated, so the chances of this being Castle Oblivion or someplace in the World That Never Was were incredibly low. He wanted to blame Di—Ansem the Wise, just because, but after thinking of the man’s apology and subsequent death, he felt… well, maybe not guilty, but maybe that okay, fine, it couldn’t be old man’s fault. With the change of clothes, the separation from Sora, and this weird room, though, it had to be someone, and after everything he’d been through, something like this was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Glowering now, he walked to the door just in time to hear footsteps approaching from the other side. Immediately, he sprang back again, sinking into a crouch and—and—?!

Roxas had enough time to send a bewildered look down at his empty hands before the door opened, and, quickly shoving aside his confusion, he darted to the side to grab one of the chairs and brandished it at the figure that stepped inside.

The nurse blinked at him, surprise registering on her face for just a moment before professionalism kicked in and her expression relaxed into an easy smile. “Now, now, Mr. Lawrence, is that any way to behave on your first day?” she said chidingly, holding out her hands good-naturedly to show that she was unarmed. Yeah, like Roxas was about to buy that.

“My name isn’t ‘Lawrence,’ it’s Roxas,” he replied coldly, tightening his grip on the chair. The woman’s innocent act was grating enough on its own, but being spoken to like he was five wasn’t helping. “Who are you? What is this place? Where’s Sora? Why can’t I summon the Keyblade?” The last two were particularly of concern to him, but if he was going to have to break out of this place to find his other, he was going to need something better than a chair to fight with. Even the Kingdom Key would be better, and that was saying something.

The nurse just looked at him pityingly, shaking her head. What—?! “This is Landel’s Institute, dear, and there’s no such thing as a ‘Keyblade.’ We do have your brother here, but—”

“Sora’s not my brother,” Roxas interrupted, his glare intensifying. He had yet to lower the chair, and if the nurse’s thoughtful look was any indication, she’d noticed. He didn’t like that look one bit, he decided, and he lifted the chair slightly in response. “What have you done to him?”

This time the nurse frowned, motioning to someone just outside of Roxas’s view before slowly advancing. “We’ve only been trying to do what’s best for him and what’s best for you,” she said in that annoyingly reasonable and still condescending tone. Roxas found himself backing up just a little before he made himself stop, but the appearance of a large male orderly made him wish he hadn’t. If he couldn’t summon the Keyblade, then what else could he not do? “Now please, Mr. Lawrence, put the chair down and come with me.”

Well, Roxas could come up to the correct response to that pretty easily. Giving both the nurse and the orderly one last furious look, he shifted the chair into a more appropriate position and charged, swinging his impromptu weapon at the nurse’s head. He hoped to knock her out or at least incapacitate her so that he could get out (she looked more like the brains of the outfit than the orderly did, so it seemed like a fair plan), but rather than the solid crack he’d expected to hear as the chair hit, the slap of a palm on plastic put an end to his happy dreams of escape.

Looking up revealed that the orderly had caught the chair in an iron grip and was giving Roxas a disapproving look that was nearly identical to the one the nurse was now sporting, but rather than give up then, Roxas yanked hard on the chair, failed to free it, then let go and made for the second one. If he could just get past these guys—

This time, the orderly caught his wrist, yanking him closer to the pair and standing immovable as a mountain as the Nobody tried in vain to free himself. ”Hey!” Roxas cried, flailing, kicking, and biting the man when all else failed. “Lemme go! You can’t do this!”

The nurse waited until the orderly had him more or less pinned in place before advancing again, this time with a syringe full of some liquid Roxas couldn’t identify in hand. His struggles increased once he spotted this, but by now it was obvious it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He could only watch as she stuck the needle in his arm and emptied its contents, and by the time she drew away, Roxas had all but stilled and was left staring at her through eyes that were suddenly much harder to keep open.

“Now, I understand you must be confused, Luke, but please believe us when we say this is for your own good,” the nurse said rationally, as if he hadn’t just tried to bash her skull in. “This is your first day so we’re still going to let you go to breakfast, but if you insist on being difficult later, we’ll need to take disciplinary action.” She grinned at him. “So be a good boy, okay?”

Roxas glared at her.

“Good.” With that, she gestured to the orderly and led the pair off, leaving Roxas to wonder just how stupid she had to be to think that meant “yes.”

"Have you lost your mind?!"

He raced forward to confront the red-head, only to be seized by the throat. Struggling in the Replica's grip, he felt his life being drained away. As he faded into nothing, he heard the last words of his non-existance.

"Sorry, Zexion. Guess you were the next to go after all."

"Milo! It's time to get up! You will miss breakfast!"

Zexion was gently shaken into consciousness by a woman dressed in white. He sat up, staring about. The last thing he remembered was fading away; surely he could not still be alive? He inhaled deeply, gathering what information he could through the scents carried on the air. Various smells weaved through the room's air - cloth, metal, paper, ink. But what wasn't present brought a shock.

The lady had no scent.

For a moment Zexion thought he had finally become whole, had finally become Ienzo again and could not smell the woman because of that. But the notion quickly passed; no wave of excitement came with this thought, no joy. Zexion was still a shell, still a Nobody.

He sat up in the bed, questions racing through his head. Where am I? What is going on? Who is 'Milo'? WHAT am I wearing? The lady smiled happily. "That's the way, Milo! Up and at 'em!"

The Nobody spoke up. "You seem to be confused. My name is not Milo, it is Zexion. And I want to know where I am, what is going on, and why you are insisting on my going to breakfast." Had he a heart, he would be genuinely irritated. Now he could only fake it, though.

The woman sighed, as if she had explained this several times already. "You are Milo Jacobson, and you are in Landel's Institute. You were brought here because you had created an imaginary world and persona for yourself, and believed you were actually Zexion. But enough of that! It's breakfast time!" Almost as an afterthought, she added, "I'm a nurse here, so I help with the patients."

Zexion gazed coldly at the woman dressed in white. The Nobody was not in the mood for silly mind games - he was never in the mood for anything - and chose to ignore the woman for the moment. He was far more concerned with his surroundings than he was with a delusional lady who believed that he was insane and belonged in this Landel's Institute.

The nurse would not be ignored. She grabbed his arm gently and pulled him out of bed. No impressive feat; Zexion was not heavy. "Come now, we're serving waffles today, and you don't want to miss those!" She nudged him to the door. Zexion didn't struggle; fighting wouldn't help the situation.

And he was sort of hungry, actually.

Shito was coming to hate waking up in strange places. At least this time there was no hole in his belly. And he wasn't chained to the bed. Sitting up, he rubbed his face and tried to figure out just what was going on this time. He didn't remember being grabbed, which was new and different.

Actually, something else was weird, too. Shito looked at 'his' right hand, then blinked. Blinked again. There was no handcuff, no chain. Was it really his hand then, somehow? But no, on closer inspection it was definitely Akatsuki's hand. The lines on the palm, the fingerprints, they were all Akatsuki's. Shito tugged experimentally at the hand, and found that it seemed to be firmly attached.

Now that was just not right! Was he stuck with that asshole's hand?

Just when he was about to start really freaking out, a nurse entered, smiled at him, and called him "Mr. Xu."

Mr. Xu?

Well, that explained everything. This was all one of Tohou's games, somehow.A new one, and a very weird one, but clearly it was Tohou's doing.

Artemis awoke slowly, realizing that he felt like he was on a rather large dose of painkillers. The fact that his arm didn't hurt was evidence enough to prove his suspicion. He looked down and moaned in frustration. There it was: a bright red cast on his left arm. As if it wasn't obvious enough, it was wrapped in red.

His free hand reached up to his neck. A piece of gauze was taped over the burn mark. How his nurse was going to explain an upside-down cross burned into his skin, Artemis didn't even want to begin to fathom.

He slowly turned his head towards Haku's bed, expecting to see that his roommate had already left for breakfast. At first glance, he was surprised and pleased to see that Haku was in his bed.

Until he looked closer.

"Oh God," he breathed, throwing off his sheets and weaving over to Haku's bed. "Oh no. No, no, no...!"

Haku was covered in bandages. Artemis felt his knees give way and he knelt down on the ground in front of Haku's bed, resting his head on the mattress. "I should have gone with you... why did I leave you alone?" His throat felt tight, like he was choking.

".... alone."

Day was always a shock, but this time there was something different. His roommate's voice nearby. Opening his eyes, he moved to sit up and winced, breathing for a moment before shifting further and looking down at his friend with a worried frown.

"Artemis," he started, wincing again as the act of speaking tore at his abused throat. He sighed and tried again. "What ... You're hurt."

Artemis was startled when Haku awoke so suddenly. He was certain that he'd be crying over his friend's motionless body for at least a few more minutes.

"Compared to you, I could run the next triathlon," Artemis countered, his eyes brimming with tears.

Haku offered a small smile and reached out to place a cool hand on his friend's free hand. "I'm seem to lack the red casing." His voice was rougher than normal, his throat raw and painful thanks to the deep bruises circled around his throat.

"You're upset..."

"Of course I'm upset!" Artemis took Haku's hand with his right. "You... you look like you've been put through a shredder, and all I came back with was a cast? I should have gone with you... I shouldn't have let you wander off alone!"

Haku started to tilt his head, but stopped the motion when it cause pain. Instead he smiled. "You couldn't have gone Artemis," he said softly. "You had your own obligations to follow."

His throat still hurt, but he could manage a bit of speach. He didn't sound quite as .... well as he normally did, but it was enough he figured.

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[Not An Intro -- In M47]

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