Nightshift 36 - M1-M10 Hallway

[felled-hero.livejournal.com]

(M6)

And now it was nighttime.

Hughes had ignored dinner, for the most part, only bothering to make sure he put aside the juice. He reclined on his bed, lost in thought, and trying to make sure he got all the sort of thinking that would distract him later out of the way.

It had been a long as hell day. And it wasn't over, not by a long shot. How many people were supposed to come by tonight? He'd lost track. He had a list to give to Ed, and it looked like a dozen plans to make, and tomorrow would bring more of the same.

And somewhere in there, he needed to find time to properly grieve.

Now wasn't the time, though. He got up once the intercom started its nightly tortures on the ears and ran a hand through his hair. Soldier's work was never done and all that. And while he knew damn well how to lead...

This was supposed to be Roy. He was the help, the behind the scenes, the support. That was how it had always been. This...this wasn't right. If anyone should have been taken or killed or whatever it was the institute did, it should have been him.

Well, he'd just do what he could.

Comments

[nakanai-toboe.livejournal.com]

Toboe hopped out of bed once the doors unlatched, looking down at the paper where his nurse had written the numbers 1 through 30 (apparently) for him. One odd squiggle was his...'four,' and Hitsugaya's would be 23.

It was a little ways away, anyway. Toboe took one more look at the paper then darted out the door, finding the next biggest mark: 5...6...down toward the main hallway.

M3

[cnflctofintrst.livejournal.com]

It only took a few seconds for Mello give up attempting to eat steak with one hand (what kind of sadists were they, anyway?), so he contented himself by eating every morsel of the vegetables and apple pie. He wasn't certain about the institute's healing rate, but he'd ask Sai later tonight. Because he knew that body language was vital and he wanted to avoid broadcasting weakness, he'd gotten rid of the sling and wore the oversized coat from his closet, letting the sleeves dangle past the cast to his fingertips. Still, as was natural for someone who didn't make a habit of getting himself injured, Mello moved with relative caution. He found it frustrating that so many other patients seemed immune to pain, but he supposed that it came with the territory of being superhuman action heroes.

His message board persona was easy enough to slip into. Helpful but not ingratiating, direct at times but generally conscientious. Someone capable of attending to details without losing sight of the bigger picture, and most importantly, someone very intelligent who could be trusted as a guiding force and gave no indication of selfish manipulation. He sat in the center of his bed with his journal open on his lap as he alternately chewed on the end of his pen and made terse, abbreviated notes about what he'd learned from the bulletin that day. As people entered he glanced up long enough to greet them with a friendly smile and a gesture towards the chairs, the bed, the desks, or anything else that could function as a seat if a person didn't feel like standing. It wasn't until the room contained a handful of people that he spoke.

Mello sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed but didn't stand, instead pushing his foot against the edge of his chair and resting his left elbow on his knee. "Thanks for coming," he said with a slight, grateful nod. "I don't think this'll take long. I'm Mello. I've gone by Michael a few times here, but Mello's what most people call me." He shrugged slightly. Though he doubted anyone remembered, Mello needed to address that incongruity or he'd risk seeming trustworthy. "Like I said on the bulletin, I don't think force is the way out of this place. People have been trying that for weeks, and for the most part, all we've gotten is hurt." The statement might have seemed strong, but he considered the fact undeniable. People had made weapons and killed monsters, but they were closer to escape. "No matter how far we make it, we wake up in bed the next day. The only way to get out of here is to figure out what's keeping us here and focus on that. We still have to fight, but we have to be smarter about choosing our battles.

"We don't know what information is useful until we have it, so even if it's trivial, we need to learn everything we can. I have my own theories about what's going on, and I'm sure most of you do too. I called this meeting so that we can compare notes and coordinate our efforts to learn more about the institute. We can't afford to use information as a tradable commodity."

At this he waved his hand slightly, palm up in a gesture he knew that people often unconsciously associated with honesty. He also drew his legs back onto the bed and folded them loosely, maintaining a casual posture but wearing a purposeful expression as he glanced over those present. The only fault in his presentation was the nearly-hidden flash of discomfort in his eyes when he moved his right arm too suddenly.

"I'm not trying to start a club," Mello continued. "Clubs are divisive. They compete, even if it's on an unconscious level, and that's exactly what Landel wants. If we have to call it one for organizational purposes, fine, but we need to work together. We all need to work together." He was lucky that Matt wasn't present to give a muffled chuckle. "It's our best chance of beating this place."

Again, his eyes moved curiously across faces of the people before him. "I've explained most of what I've learned on the bulletin, but I'm working on plenty of other things, too. If anyone has any questions or ideas of their own, let's hear it. Otherwise, don't let me hold you up." Mello gave a friendly, self-assured smile and a small nod to indicate he'd finished his speech.

Re: M3

[diamondstorm]

The informant from the board was an interesting person; his appearance distinguished him from the others in the room. He seemed confident enough in himself and what he had to say. Still holding her staff with her gloved hands, Renamon leaned against the wall by the door to listen.

What Mello was saying was sense to her, and she waiting until a few people trickled away to approach him. "Hello," she said, lightly bowing her head. "Thank you for having this meet-up. I'm Renamon. I was the one on the Board who mentioned multiple worlds."

Wasting no time with a preamble, she continued, "I have two groups, if you will, working with me to find out things. One is helping me look for portals or doors to alternate worlds, and finding the similarities between them... which there are quite a bit. But Landel controls this place, of course, so running around searching for those things are quite fruitless.

"The other group is compiling a theory of how exactly powers are stolen here, how dead people are brought back, and why people without powers are necessary here. We have a moderately solid theory that we've finished putting together today, but we're still researching it."

She paused there, letting Mello take it in before voicing anything more.

Re: M3

[osakapwnzu.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I've got a question," Heiji raised his hand, mostly out of his own relaxed nature. He put it down after he knew Mello was paying attention to him.

"You say that the clubs compete on an unconscious level," Heiji said, using his best Kanto-ben. His accent was still a little weird, but for now it would be satisfactory. He was, after all, impersonating Kudo. "But as far as I know, the leaders meet almost every day at lunch to discuss strategy and share their findings. So, I don't really know where you're comin' from in that sense," Heiji finished with a light laugh.

"'N secondly, I think that we can all agree that we compete on an individual level as well. We're fighting for our lives in some cases. In the end, someone's gonna abandon ship and cry 'every man, woman, and whatever f'r themselves'. How do you propose we work against that?"

Re: M3

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

[[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489285.html?thread=39720517#t39720517)]]

Kagura didn't have to knock. There were enough people coming and going that it didn't seem necessary. It seemed rude to just go ahead though, so she waited for the boy to finish talking to the others before she walked over with the box in hand.

"U-um, pardon me," she said in a shy, quiet voice as she set her beat up staff down and held out the box she'd gotten from last night. "You're the one from the bulletin board, right? Um... I'm Sohma Kagura. I was at... at that town last night, the one that was all torn down." It made her nervous, meeting people for the first time, but if it was the same person, he'd seemed very nice on the board.

"These are the things I found."

[light-wicca.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489285.html?thread=39827269#t39827269)]

Willow watched Mello curiously as he spoke, her head tilted to one side. Almost everything he said made sense, except for a couple inconsistencies she couldn't help noticing and focusing on. He talked as if this was just a building they had to escape, that their normal lives would be waiting for them just beyond the small town at the bottom of the mountain, if only they could destroy whatever was keeping them there. She frowned, watching him talk privately with a couple of people as others left immediately. Even if he didn't know about the fictional characters - which was fair, actually, considering how strange it sounded - it should still be pretty clear that they all came from different worlds.

She waited until he wasn't being approached by anyone in particular, then walked slowly up to him. "Hey. Um... what exactly are you working on?"

She could always tell him what she knew, especially since she didn't think many other people would have come to the same fictional characters conclusion. Or, well, not really a conclusion, since it didn't really explain anything, but maybe he could do something with the information on his end.

Re: M3

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

Mello was busy talking with others when Sai arrived, but he'd already known this would be the case. He was covering his injury fairly well - not wanting to give any weakness away to strangers, he supposed. The ninja took a seat in the corner of the room, patiently waiting for the blond to finish his meeting.

Was it coincidence that Mello had asked him to help tonight? Perhaps he was looking for extra backup in case something went awry while he was talking with the other patients. He might even get it. It was in his best interest to keep the man unharmed, but he owed no allegiance to him.

Re: M3

[ienvyroaches.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489591.html?thread=39855479#t39855479)]

Nny watched Mello with hollow eyes from one of the unoccupied corners, not even bothering to sit down. There were a lot of people (at least to Nny) shoved into that tiny room, and the closeness made him nervous. His breath was ragged, as if he'd been running, and he glanced around the people in the room with the look one might give a dangerous animal. One that he was wondering if he should put down.

Normally, Nny took most things at face value. That wasn't a good thing for most people he met, but for Mello it was probably an asset. He didn't question his motives or sincerity. Why would Mello lie? The goal was to get out. There was a clear cut division between the nurses and the patients, clear enough for even Nny to acknowledge, even if they'd be better off with a few less patients...quite a few. Larger groups had the tendency to in-fight, move in herds, and generally fuck things up. That was probably the only point Nny disagreed with Mello on. Some people weren't worth working with. He did, however, appreciate the value of such people as cannon fodder.

That didn't matter at the moment though, since Mello did seem like someone who might, possibly, be worth working with.

Nny raised his hand and, before even being called on, began to speak. "I met with the captain of one of the clubs today," he said. "She seemed...naive. I mean that in the nicest possible way of course." He added the last part with grin that was probably at least a little off-putting, in no little part due to his current unease. "What I mean is, destroying whatever is keeping us here is all well and good...but I think we can all agree that razing the entire structure to the ground shouldn't be very high on our to-do list?" Huh, he never thought he'd say anything like that. "Revenge is nice and all...but I want out." He punctuated the last word with a fitting, no-offensive, hand gesture.

He wasn't stupid. If there was a choice between escape and revenge, he'd pick escape. But he wanted to know that he wasn't about to get dragged through a wild goose-chase for the keys to the kingdom when the door was in plain sight.

Re: M3

[longlivetheking]

[From here. Sorry for inbox spam.]

As Mello mad his speech and eventually began speaking with the other patients individually, Scar merely observed. The small space and his more sensitive hearing didn't make it difficult for the feline to follow a few conversations, and he had to admit, some of the matters discussed were rather interesting.

Eventually, he directed his attention to Mello."Though I agree running around like headless chickens will hardly get us home," He began, not bothering with pleasantries. It wasn't what he had come for, after all. "The information we require will not be so easy to find. I am curious to hear where you intend to go from here."

He paused for a moment. "Also, you have mentioned you were working on 'other things'. Would you care to specify?" After all, wasn't Mello the one who said they should share information.

Re: M3

[runner-up-robot.livejournal.com]

After rushing down the last hall, and off-balance from having been sedated earlier, Forte had to lean against the wall during Mello's speech. He didn't have much to add, but he thought he should acknowledge that he was throwing his lot in with Mello - discouraging competition was well and good, but saying he didn't want to start a club, he might as well say he was in competition with the clubs.

He waited until Mello was free to approach. He also was sure to catch his balance first. "I'm Forte, from the board. I've still got plans to learn how to fight like this, but after that, I want to help you gather information."

Re: M3

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

[FIXING MY LINK FAIL AND COMING FROM from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489591.html?thread=40265591#t40265591)]

It wasn't hard to find the room, with the number of people that had flocked around it. Edgeworth waited until several people had left before approaching Mello.

"Miles Edgeworth," he said, extending his left hand. "I go by my initials on the bulletin board. I'm interested to see what else you're working on, so I know better how to focus my own investigation. I'd had a number of ideas."

Re: M3 [late-series Death Note spoilers]

[justice-to-a-t.livejournal.com]

Mikami acknowledged Edgeworth's explanation for using his initials, as well as the choice to refrain from publicly posting a list of names and rooms. He honestly hadn't intended to ask the person from the boards to put the list up there anyway, and was instead preparing to ask them to meet him in private. In fact, it was more convenient this way, due to the increased ability to keep quiet about it. Even if it was a little dated, if he were to secure a copy of that list....

He entered room M3 with this on his mind, at as much ease as someone relatively unarmed in an arguably evil mental institution could be. For thirty seconds or so, he stood by, studying the people already there with mild interest before turning his attention to the apparent instigator of the gathering. He noticed only offhandedly that he looked vaguely familiar, listening carefully as he brought up his journal to take what notes he could in the darkness.

A full five seconds passed before he entirely registered the name the young man had offered, his mind struggling against the reality of the moment like a car being pushed to the top of a hill. It was unacceptable, and perhaps he would have doubted it as coincidence, maybe, if it weren't for the man's appearance... if not for the alternate alias he provided so close to the actual name he knew connected the man to his fate in relation to Kira's power. It really couldn't be anyone else but the Mello he knew from "home."

And at that, a string of angry thoughts rushed through his mind- a notable percentage of them expletives that he wouldn't have admitted knowing to even himself. After everything that had happened that day... all the surprises good and bad that he had endured so far... by themselves they could have undone him completely had be been any lesser of a man. And now this.

Mello was supposed to be gone. Takada had taken care of him herself... written down the name she and Mikami had been trusted with on her slip of Death Note, ending him for good in a way that was probably way too clean and decisive for his crimes. And then, although regrettable, Mikami had taken up the responsibility of removing her. Takada Kiyomi had outlived her usefulness, turned into nothing more than one marked to sacrifice herself for the good of the world and Kira's plans. Her one last coerced act in life had been dedicated to hiding the measures taken to bring down Mello. That horrible man, enemy of Kira, had been, should have been, burned up into something unrecognizable along with her. Ashes were too good.

If he was alive here, then what Takada had done had been useless, and with something approaching terror, Mikami wondered who else might be coming back thanks to this wretched place and its cruel master.

[toxicspiderman]

[from here]

There were several people in the room, including Long Hair from the hallway. People were subtly clustered around a short man in a long coat, sitting on a bed. It took balls to run a meeting as a short guy sitting down in a crowd. Which meant whatever Phoenix had said about organization, this guy was gunning for a top slot. Sheep would mindlessly follow a leader by tiny clues of body language; the leader never moved out in front, or even knew he was leading. Humans were fucking sheep, except some of them knew enough to game the system. Sheep were generally rewarded for bellwether duty by getting their balls cut off and a fucking bell around the neck. Humans usually stuck to early retirement plans, leather executive chairs, and pagers. Or -- this was supposedly a brains-over-brawn planning session -- Shorty could just be a geek and not care. S.T. walked over to him and waited for a lull in conversation.

"So you're the brains of this operation?" He held out his right hand and put on his best meet-the-press smile. A smart, self-deprecating one, not the disingenuous shit-eating grin favored by corporate flacks. "Sangamon Taylor. It's a pleasure."

M8

[arrogantflame.livejournal.com]

By the time Wolfram wandered down the hallway where Yuuri's room was located, he was more than a little worried, not to mention a touch annoyed. He hoped that the Maou had simply lost track of time, rather than getting lost or taken who knows where in this building where Wolfram would have to hunt him down.

He opened the door without knocking, already half glaring before he took in the scene in front of him. "Yuuri, I told you to-"

Cutting himself off, his expression softened when he realized that Yuuri was still sound asleep. Figures. He'd chew him out for making him worry later. For now he'd just enjoy the view.

When Yuuri didn't stir, Wolfram took the opportunity to crawl up on the small bed next to him, watching him carefully. What bothered him is that this didn't seem like a natural sleep. Yuuri hadn't turned into the Maou, had he? Wolfram would have felt the surge in maryoku if that had been the case, he was certain. But that was usually the only thing that would cause Yuuri to sleep like that...

Instead of trying to wake him up before he was ready, Wolfram curled up a little closer, reaching up to run his fingers gently through the dark hair. He wouldn't be horribly disappointed if they spent the entire night like this.

Re: M8

[mazoku-king.livejournal.com]

Not only his entire body, but his mind felt like one big lead weight at this moment in time. Did someone get the number of that bus? Yuuri groaned subtly as he felt something press up against his side, but his mind was far from ready to understand just what was going on. What had gone on? He just didn't remember... and why did he feel so tired? Yuuri couldn't remember a time when he'd ever felt this exhausted.

Why was it so hard to wake up? Yuuri tried opening his eyes, but even such a simple task was seeming impossible at this moment. Curling his body a little closer to the source of warmth, Yuuri's sluggish mind decided to give himself five more minutes before he'd force himself to get up.

He just hoped that his mother didn't come in before his five minutes was up.

M6

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

Leon stopped outside the door to M6. This had been the room Ed had mentioned, wasn't it? He knocked a couple times on the door. "Um, hello? Mr. Elric? Sir? It's me, from the boards."

He'd said to get there at the start of nightshift, and he'd moved as fast as he could. Hopefully he was in time.

Re: M6

[felled-hero.livejournal.com]

Hughes opened the door himself, remembering Ed had made plans on the board to meet someone here. And so it began.

"Ed's not here yet," Hughes said, giving the kid in the hall a smile. "I'm Maes Hughes, friend of his, he'll be along shortly. Come on in towait." He gestured into the room, figuring there was no point not to invite him in.

Outside M7

[kagurazuki.livejournal.com]

[from M3 above]

Luckily it wasn't far to the other room. She couldn't remember the shinigami's name, but she knocked lightly on the door anyway. Hopefully Bridget had already made it there ahead of her. If he was healed, then maybe they could go help find medicine for Leon or look for their possessions like Mello-san had suggested.

M7

[mitase.livejournal.com]

Dinner had been another uneventful part of what was probably the most normal day Hanatarou had spent since coming here - he'd spoken with some people, disappointed another shinigami, not really done anything useful. If only someone had played pranks on him and/or harassed him about something, it would've been just like home.

As the night drew closer, though, he started to get a little nervous about his soon-to-be visitors. Would he really still be able to heal? Hitsugaya-taichou had been full of dire warnings and concerns, but then, the captain didn't seem to think he could do very much of anything. He wasn't too far off, either, Hanatarou thought with a faint sigh, as he started to make his usual preparations for the evening.

His movements showed him to be a little distracted as he grabbed his pillowcase and started to pull the sheets off his bed, trying not to look as worried as he felt inside. Hopefully he wouldn't be entirely useless, because if he couldn't heal, then what good was he? It wasn't as though he was any help whatsoever as a fighter, so unless someone needed something cleaned...well.

After a moment the shinigami realized that he was just staring at the bundle of fabric in his hands and shook his head a little, then took hold of the edge and attempted to tear the sheet into strips. And tried again. And one more time.

No, this didn't seem to be working. All he'd managed to do was to wrinkle the thing a little; there wasn't so much as a loose thread anywhere.

But the knock on the door came at just the right moment (or wrong moment) to distract him from that, and he gave a quiet yelp and dropped the sheet again in surprise. "Ah, c-come in...?"

M9

[sir-savien.livejournal.com]

Kvothe frowned at the doctor's announcement, wondering if 'new patients' referred to the people who arrived with Tony and him, or if more people were coming in overnight. Then the locks clicked open. He looked at the door for a moment, then turned to Tony. "Want to head out now, or do you want to wait a bit so that anything in the Sun Room is preoccupied before we have to deal with it?"

M9

[tony-castaway.livejournal.com]

The lights in the room snapped out at the same moment. Tony felt around in his desk drawer for his flashlight. "We don't have to hurry, I guess. We can listen outside the door to see if anyone's there. I have good hearing." He switched on the light and gathered the rest of what he wanted. "I wish I had more hands sometimes." Or a sack.

[lighthearted]

[Assuming he left before the M7 thread above.]

Dinner had been same old, same old. Sora had been glad to see that Hanatarou was still here (this place wasn't safe, but it had to be better than the alternative at this point), and he had made sure to get his food eaten, but encountering two Nobodies and yet another villain in the space of a few hours had left him distracted and worried.

There were some people here who probably didn't want to help, who would rather see everyone around them fail - it was disheartening to know that, and to also know that there was very little that he could do about it. The only consolation was that they had barely any powers here, but that also meant he didn't either.

And without his abilities, it was a lot harder to protect his friends. It was a lot harder to fight.

On top of that, people never stopped disappearing, and with Kairi's roommate gone Sora wasn't sure who might be next. He didn't want to look at his companions and imagine that there were invisible timers over their heads that were counting down, but it was starting to feel that way.

Still, Sora wasn't one to let a bad mood linger, and when the intercom announcement came and the doors opened, he made sure to head out into the hall immediately, flashlight in hand. Apparently they would be trying to head outside on the north end, though he wasn't sure which end that was. Hopefully one of the others would know - it was going to be interesting working alongside people who he wasn't usually grouped with.

Saying a quick farewell to his roommate, Sora started down the hall, just like usual.

[lighthearted]

[To here.]

Outside M8

[whirlingwinds.livejournal.com]

Naruto, having no appetite whatsoever after his day, had immediately wandered out of the room. But he was confused, didn't know where to go. He clutched the picture tightly in his hand, almost crumpling it. He walked back and forth in front of his door, pacing, running a hand through his hair and sighing; he'd met his parents.

Not only that, but his father had been the Fourth Hokage. The man that had inspired him to follow his dream, to become the strongest and protect everyone at the risk of his life, like the man himself had done.

Which meant no one, in his 15 years of life, ever thought of telling him the simple fact.

Not even Jiraiya, who had been the teacher of the Fourth. Who had been his own teacher for two and a half years.

His fists closed tighter and his eyes narrowed, setting into a determined, steady glare.

[whirlingwinds.livejournal.com]

Jiraiya would probably be at their usual spot.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489591.html?thread=39898231#t39898231)]

[littlestrawdoll.livejournal.com]

An uneventful dinner was at least one way of getting stuff done without interruption. The doll didn’t mind so much either way; he ate, worked on his maps, and absently listened to whatever drivel Landel had lined up for them that night.

The routine had gotten old days ago, but there was no point complaining.

When the abrupt plunge into darkness signalled the beginning of nightshift, Ren grabbed his flashlight and folded the maps. He wouldn’t have to take them far, so it wasn’t like he needed to worry about keeping his hands free… Tossing a wave at his roommate in goodbye, the doll started up the hallway to M6. Nope, not far at all.

_{[heading up to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=39759473#t39759473)]}

[dasgift.livejournal.com]

[Before meeting in M6.]

Kristoph did not believe himself to be upset. Being upset implied weakness and irascibility, neither of which applied to his situation. He was perhaps a bit put off, mayhap exasperated at this afternoon’s visit and its revelations, but upset? There was no flush of emotion, no burning haze clouding his judgment. The cogs in his mind worked swift and true; speech failed to reveal tremors or hesitation. How could anyone believe him to be distressed? The man was practically unruffled.

The nurses, however, had felt otherwise, if their nervous glances hinted at anything. One had suggested he retire to his room shortly before the dinner announcement. It supposedly helped with whatever affliction (real or perceived) which had overrun the defense attorney during his visit with ‘Konrad’. Of course, the advice quickly shifted to a mandate upon his brother’s departure, and he found himself escorted out of the lobby and back toward the patient halls. They had originally considered sedation but quickly opted for this alternative. An angry Kristoph was yet cooperative.

He spent that dinner in silence while his mind worked out the finer details of what he’d learned. The institute had incorporated his most personal secrets into Bruno Godfrey’s unfortunate life. How was irrelevant; if they could accomplish mass kidnapping and alteration of people’s minds and bodies, discovering such facts was nothing. Nor was his brother much of a concern. Kristoph may have acted rather strongly against the Klavier lookalike and his nonsense regarding this ‘Jurist System’ during their meeting, but since his appearance was a weekly matter (maybe less, given their parting words), he posed no threat.

No, Kristoph’s fear lay with the other patients, especially the named and vindictive. One in particular had every desire to dig into his past, and if that person managed to succeed, it would spell disaster. Drew and Vera Misham all over again, except he had no atroquinine as a countermeasure. Others would be as useless: a more physical retaliation would not go unnoticed whilst vehement denouncement would fall on deaf ears.

However, if he could control the flow of the hospital’s patient information, especially his… It would require some work and risks, but out of the options available, this was doable.

Only, it had to begin tonight. As soon as the doors clicked open, Kristoph exited his room with a small mental list of tasks and a flashlight. First order of business required a suitable weapon or, failing that, a meat shield. These places were assumed to be crawling with monsters and antagonists, and his flashlight was hardly suitable for the task of defense.

[dasgift.livejournal.com]

[Jumping down here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=40481137#t40481137) real quick.]

[sixth-scents.livejournal.com]

Zexion was making a good show of being irritated for someone without a heart. He had been in the institute for several days now, and yet he had managed to get no closer to escape. That could be attributed to the limited amount of exploration the Nobody had completed during the night, a fact he was going to remedy.

The short Nobody grabbed his journal and a pen in addition to the flashlight, and pushed the door open. He flicked the light on, shining it up and down the hallway. It was mostly deserted. Zexion closed the door behind him and scanned the area for familiar scents. It wouldn't be wise to travel alone.

[ienvyroaches.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=39859057#t39859057)]

The meeting had certainly been productive. Kind of. Sort of. Not really, but at least Nny knew of one more person who wasn't completely worthless. And he had a vague idea of what he needed to do next, which was a hell of a lot more than he could have said earlier that day.

He slipped out of the room and took a sharp turn down the hall, only to stop right before running into someone. "Ah, sorry," he mumbled, stepping back. Then he flashed his light over the other. "Mr. Nobody!" he exclaimed with a grin.

[high-prosecutor.livejournal.com]

[moving down from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=40480369#t40480369)]

Phoenix should have been there by now. Edgeworth was silently cursing himself for having been so caught up in the conversation with Mello that he'd failed to notice that fact. Any one of a thousand things could have happened - anything from his orphan sense beginning to tingle to getting lost to something far, far worse. He just hoped it hadn't been the latter.

He decided to wait for a bit, in the hopes that it had just been a simple holdup or matter of getting turned around in the darkness. If he didn't arrive within the next little while, he would go looking for Phoenix.

[dasgift.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=40432753#t40432753).]

Well, now, here was a pleasant sight: Miles Edgeworth alone and looking quite impatient. Perhaps he was waiting for someone. It did not take much brain power to guess who.

Unfortunately, Kristoph could not afford to stop and chit-chat. Without a single word, the man walked past the prosecutor, unable to withhold the small twinkle in his blue eyes while doing so. It was nice, at least, to see him up and acting relatively sober.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/489591.html?thread=40489847#t40489847).]

((Just outside M6))

[grosse-sklaven.livejournal.com]

((From here.)) (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/487656.html?thread=40515304#t40515304)

This was the place. Normally Adelheid would have knocked politely on the M6 door and let himself in, but now, there were two very good reasons for him not to do so. One was the tattoo on the left side of his face, a mark of shame he self-consciously kept turned to the wall so few people could see it. The other was that there were other voices in there, two more that he didn't recognize. He knew how good a first impression was... he wasn't keen on being remembered as 'the boy with the tattoo.'

So instead he knocked on the door, and called out, "Ed? It's Adel. If you're busy I can go on ahead." He could fight on his own! ...as long as there wasn't a ghost woman or anything like that.

Re: ((Just outside M6))

[lost-metal.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/486769.html?thread=40426609#t40675953)]


Ed slipped out of the room, still grimacing from the taste of the alcohol that he'd drunk with Hughes. Ugh. Needed some refinement still. More water needed to be added, otherwise people might as well just drink ethanol. He brightened when he spotted his friend though. "Hey. You could have come in you know," he said.

[toxicspiderman]

[from here]

S.T. folded the maps back up carefully as he walked down the hall. Where to put them was a concern; sticking them in a pocket seemed to be the best option. Not wearing the coat (which had inside pockets) had been a tactical error. One he'd compound that by not bringing his own journal. Fucking great reconnaissance man he was making tonight. Next time he'd know better.

There were a number of places that looked worth seeing; Pharmacy seemed like a useful start, as did Laundry, if he wanted to put together any sort of lab. Or maybe just see if they stocked any medications with recreational applications.

"Who's running this meeting? There some sort of pecking order around here, or is it a free-for-all?" He'd bet on the latter; from his very-limited experience, this place seemed to have more than its fair share of 'personalities'. It was easier to bitch about things than to even consider changing them. That's how GEE kept itself financially solvent -- people gave money and felt entitled to back to bitching about pollution in their fancy gas-guzzling sports cars and pick-up trucks.

[pleading-ngri.livejournal.com]

"There's not a pecking order, really. It would be hard to keep one going -- apparently people are arriving and disappearing all the time." And reappearing, he added silently, though he wasn't going to even try to bring that up. That was a whole other story, and one that required a better understanding of the Institute to even try to mull over. He'd let S.T. take a look at the bulletins and talk with some people and see for himself that everyone really wasn't from the same place, first. It seemed like the right order to go in.

"There are people who lead groups, and people who gather information and pull some weight that way, but even if there weren't so many of us, everyone's got their own agenda. There are people who knew each other from the outside, and they're not all necessarily friends." He tried to keep speaking as impersonally as possible, but he didn't know if he entirely kept the shadow out of his voice. There's a man in here, he'd remembered, at least every other hour for the past day and the night so far. He is old, but he is brilliant, patient, and will stop at nothing. He has killed before and he has vowed to kill you, and he never abandons his goals. It was tiring in a way he didn't consciously realize until he stopped to look at it, like a backache you only remembered when you stood up.