Day 37: Breakfast

[scarletspeedstr.livejournal.com]

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

Comments

[beloved-less.livejournal.com]

[OOC:Team Loveless!]

What an awful day yesterday had been. Soubi hadn't had a proper chance to come to terms with the night before that either. He'd driven himself down with the pain and was administered so much medication to kill it that most of the day was a complete blur. Apart from one thing. Ritsu. That was all too clear.

Well, today he hadn't had a chance to wear himself down and the dosage he'd been given was far lighter. He could keep up with his surroundings a little better.

He was very curious about his roommate. Did he really have a missing heart or was that all a part of the weird dreams or hallucinations Soubi had been having? Things had gotten far too strange.

Right now...he wanted to see Ritsuka. He'd fallen asleep with the boy in his arms and that had made him feel a little better. Being able to hold his Sacrifice...

[OOC:Before, during or after Bulletin? XD]

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

[after?]

Ritsuka was a little late to breakfast. He had to pull his camera out of his backpack and figure out how to hide it on himself before he could leave the room. It was hard doing things in the sparse moments before the nurses showed up, but he managed. Now, the camera was tucked into his waistband so that his shirt hid it. Not the best method, but it worked.

Then he'd stopped by the Bulletin Board and... Well, all sorts of things happened. Kio was here and he'd made it to Goura even though Ritsuka and Soubi had not. Kio had been knocked out, too, and while Ritsuka didn't know much about Soubi's friend, he didn't think he had any connection to the school, meaning he'd been hit as an innocent bystander. What a crappy situation.

Worse now that he was here.

Trying to get away without a tray was a lesson in failure, leaving Ritsuka with a tray with extra food on it that he was probably not going to eat. The nurse shoved him toward the tables gently and Ritsuka made a beeline for Soubi, regardless of her protests. "What's going on?" he demanded, the moment he was close enough for the older man to hear.

[el-lolly-eat.livejournal.com]

As L predicted, he woke up this morning with his nurse offering him a crutch. He supposed that it was less noticeable and serious than being in a wheel chair, but not by much. It would still be obvious to others that he had gotten injured sometime during the night. Enemies aside, it would probably be in his favor to avoid Naomi for the time being.

He still had his concerns over the sleep studies this institute was conducting and the level of knowledge the doctors possessed in order to carry them out. L needed to determine whether or not the doctors had simply centered their focus on his self doubt based on observations of his actions, or whether they were choosing to do so due to his internal reservations about himself.

Regardless of which one it was, L still would have a number of problems to deal with. If this institute could hear the thoughts of its own patients, then destroying this place would be much more difficult than he had initially perceived. And the idea was not so far fetched as some of the patients themselves were capable of reading minds. If the institute was all knowing, any plans made would mean a loss of the element of surprise. Every move planned out would be seen and dealt with accordingly before any damage could be made.

The tactic to use here would be to find a glitch or error they made in their system and use it against them before any action could be taken to remedy the problem. But even then, the odds were astronomically stacked against him. L would need to have a considerable amount of luck on his side in order to even encounter such a situation, and he would have to think and move quicker than those he was up against. All the while he would have to be aware that they knew what he was going to do. And even then, with what Naomi reported about the riot, there appeared to be measures that could be taken with could prevent him from doing anything at all until they made the necessary changes.

The situation was fairly hopeless in this case. There would little to no chance of ever successfully accomplishing his goals and all he could do is sit and wait until he died or disappeared like everyone else here… Or he could wait and hope for some other outside influence to intervene.

If L could conclude that the institute was basing their sleep studies on observation alone it meant that they could somehow see the patient’s actions during the night and maybe even daytime hours. Likely this was being preformed with some sort of mechanism that L was not even aware of, as he had actively searched for cameras and listening devices on more than one occasion and had turned up with nothing. If this was the case he didn’t have to worry as heavily about the fact that they knew exactly what he was thinking, but had to concentrate on the idea that that he was being watched at all times. Even passing notes along to another individual could very well be within the view of the doctors and readable to them since L did not know their field of vision… But there was still some hope in this case.

The best tactic here would be to carry on with how things were already going, and severely isolate any expression or interest in the situation that would indicate to the doctors that he was planning or progressing. In other words; keep everything necessary and vital to himself and make them think that their sleep study had been a victory. This worked in his favor having had told Matsuda and Mello (and anyone else listening in at the time) that he had chosen to quit. He wouldn’t be expected to share his thoughts and ideas on the matter with his heirs or any other interested parties.

[el-lolly-eat.livejournal.com]

L let his nurse lead him to the cafeteria and allowed her to collect his food. His stomach gurgled noisily in response to the sweet scents of breakfast. After not eating at all yesterday, he was actually feeling quite hungry and looking forward to getting some extra energy from the French toast the institute was providing. It was going to be a long and trying day if he was going to set out to uncover some of the answers he needed. Especially if he was to approach it in a way that would not tip anyone off that he was trying to find these answers if the second possibility was the case.

Having his food, L sat down at a nearby table. With one leg injured, he couldn’t quite sit in the position he was most accustomed to. Instead, all he could manage was to sit with one leg up on the chair, which was a little easier for him to manage then when he had been in the wheel chair.

[Willy Wonka]

[toxicspiderman]

[for Demyx]

When the voice started pouring from the intercom, Sangamon groaned, and reached out to input the correct set of pokes and prods that would shut off his clock-radio without knocking it on the floor or throwing it across the room. The former tended not to stop the noise; the latter was a waste of electronics. His hand was met by empty space, and its momentum continued unchecked until his knuckles hit the floor. He pulled the hand back, shaking off the sting, and sat up, blinking to try to return reality to normal operation. The voice was still booming from the intercom, sounding more cheerful than an NPR announcer describing another Reagan gaffe. Must be the Head Doctor. Charming son of a bitch.

Identifying the voice meant identifying his location; he'd woken up in the same shithole he'd been in last night. It hadn't melted away into vague recollections of one of his more creative nightmares. He took a deep breath, and then buried his head in his hands. Pathetic and lost, dazed and confused. What the fuck had happened last night? Memories were slotting themselves into order with too-sober clarity. He'd woken up in a room just like this one, gone wandering around a B-movie asylum set, complete with monsters. And lawyers -- he'd been spending way too fucking much time on the mop-up of the Basco affair if he was hallucinating lawyers, even personable ones. Then he'd
been in another dormitory-style room, talking to a bored pseudo-intellectual with delusions of grandeur. Then everything went blurry. Darkness. A voice, sinister and familiar, laughing at him. The same voice that he'd woken up to. Oh shit.

He was still sitting like that feeling sorry for himself when a nurse practially bounded into the room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "Good morning, Mister Quincy. Time to rise and shine."

"Kwin-zy," he corrected, automatically.

"Quincy," she repeated, allowing his correction to stand and making a note on her clipboard. "Or would you prefer 'Paul'? We don't have to be formal here at Landel's. We want you to be comfortable during your stay."

"I'd prefer 'Sangamon Taylor'," he growled. Not that he expected that to be honored, given what he'd heard last night. But he was still going to register a protest.

"It's time for breakfast, Paul," she continued, as if he hadn't said anything.

"Not hungry," S.T. shot back, standing up. Crap, I had a map and a flashlight. He patted his pocket; the maps were still there. A quick shuffle through the blankets yielded the flashlight, still warm from where he'd apparently been cuddled up with it. He tossed it back on the bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his nurse tapping her foot, smile still plastered across her face.

"Some nice french toast should make you feel better. We all want you to get better. Come on, you don't want to be late. First meal of the day, don't you want to make a good impression?" She was wheedling, now. Pretty soon she'd be whining.

"I said, I'm not hungry." A wet gurgle from his stomach made that one of his more obvious lies. "Fine, fine, just gimme a fucking minute." He walked over to the dresser, retrieved all of the slippers, and crossed the room directly in front of the nurse, refusing eye contact. He shoved two pairs in the closet, dropped the third on the floor, and stepped into them. Then he turned around and yanked open the desk, taking out two pens and the notebook. He opened the notebook, unfolded the maps Phoenix had given him carefully into it, and shut it again. Finally, he gave his shirt a quick sniff to see if sleeping in it had rendered him socially unacceptable (fortunately not), and picked up the notebook. "Okay, whatever. Let's go."

[toxicspiderman]

The nurse led him down the hallway, babbling away about how his friends must miss him, how Martin Landel was a gracious bastard, and other nonsensical meaningless social noise. He counted doors -- he hadn't been in the same room he'd woken up in last night -- and then traced out the route against his memories of the map. Everything matched up as they made their way through several other brightly-lit halls and into a cafeteria. It smelled heavenly. Acrylamides and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons -- two traditional breakfast carcinogens -- were battling for airspace dominance along with a cacophony of chatter bouncing off hard walls and floor.

He grabbed a tray and slid it into the line, clacking along the metal strips like a herd of ravenous railroad boxcars. Tall stack of French toast, generous pat of real butter (no artificially hydrogenated fats or toxic nickel additives here). Three strips of bacon, glass of orange juice, admonition that syrup was on the table. It all smelled (and looked) surprisingly edible. For cafeteria food, it was practically four-star. He glanced around for the nurse that had brought him there to ask about coffee, but she was nowhere to be seen, and the line was moving, spitting him out into the seating area of the cafeteria.

He found a table with several empty chairs and set his tray down at one of them.

[gottabetactile.livejournal.com]

[For Tokito]

Kon yawned hugely, blinking sleepily at the wall. He'd been lying in bed a while after being woken up by the announcement over the intercom. Just like Mickey to forget that not everyone in CADMUS got up at the crack of dawn. He'd been having a really weird dream before he was woken up too. Really weird. Why the hell had he been dreaming about losing his powers and getting munched on by crazed killer squirrels? And the stuff before, about Hypertime and the dead Superboy? Was that part of the dream or had it been real?

Sitting up quickly, Kon gave a strangled yelp as his left arm throbbed in pain. What the hell? His upper arm - where the crazy squirrel had bitten him in the dream - was neatly bandaged and not with pieces of his shirt. Come to think of it, when he looked down at himself he was in an outfit just like he had been wearing in the dream only this one was clean and not ripped up. Peering down his pants confirmed that this really was exactly what he'd been wearing in the dream with the old guy - Teisel? - and the two crazy girls. Prodding at one of the covered bites Kon winced, "I'm guessing not a dream then. So, what, I got stripped when I was out of it again? Man, I wish people would just ask if they want to see me naked."

He was just about to get up and try the door - they hadn't been able to keep him locked up last night, there was no way they could manage it now - when it opened on its own. A total babe of a nurse came in, smiling at him and asking him "How are you feeling this morning Caleb?"

Grinning he said "I'm feeling great now that your here, but you got me confused with someone else. I'm Superboy, not this Caleb guy." She was seriously great, it was a shame the nurses outfit was a real one, not one of the ones designed to show off her, heh, 'assets'. Too caught up in checking out what he could see, Kon didn't notice the nurse's disappointed look.

"Caleb," she said firmly, "That is your real name. You certainly can't expect people to call you something as ridiculous as Superboy." Smiling sweetly at him she added, "Come with me and I'll show you to the cafeteria where you can get some breakfast. I'd hate to think of you going hungry." Holding open the door she watched him expectantly till he got up and followed her out.

Kon tried again. "Look, I know it's hard to believe but I'm not from this world. I'm from, like, another reality. This Caleb guy must just look like me is all." He reached out again for his TTK, trying to get airborne. Still nothing. This whole walking everywhere thing was getting to him. "I can prove it too," he babbled, "Just as soon as I get my powers back. See, they're-"

The nurse cut him off, saying "That's enough Caleb. I don't want to hear anymore about this. Here's the cafeteria, why don't you get something to eat and when you've calmed down maybe we can have a chat. If you're good that is."

She smiled at him again and Kon had to grin back, "Babe, I'm better than good but-" He didn't get any further as she patted his shoulder and was gone. He was tempted to follow her but the food smelt really good and he was pretty hungry. Shrugging Kon eagerly grabbed some French Toast slathered with syrup and a glass of juice. He could almost like being locked up here. The food was way better than what they got at CADMUS. Snagging a seat he surveyed the room. He needed to figure out what was going on here, how to get his powers back and who was in charge. For now though, the scenery was pretty good and the food was great so he was just going to sit here and, uh, formulate a plan. Yeah, that was it!

[wild-right-hand.livejournal.com]

That had definitely been the most eventful night Tokito had had in this place, and he wasn't entirely sure he ever wanted a repeat. Yeah, he'd gotten a baseball bat out of it--which he quickly stashed in the closet before the nurse came looking for him--but that fight had really sucked. He'd have to check on Brian later, or something, see if the guy was okay after being knocked out like that.

But first, food! And yummy food, too, from the smell of it! Tokito piled his plate full of as much of everything as he could fit, then drenched the french toast in butter, then syrup, then fruit, then sugar. Breakfast around here almost made up for the lack of snacks during the rest of the day. Tokito really missed Pocky, though.

Pondering the wonders of american breakfast foods, Tokito took the first empty seat he saw, giving the guy sitting across from him a brief wave. It was rude to talk with one's mouth full, Kubo-chan said, and Tokito wanted to start eating right away, so a wave was the best greeting he could manage.

[faceyourdoom.livejournal.com]

Hmm. No. This... was not working at all.

During the day, he was doomed to follow the idiotic regimen the Collectors and the Announcer dictated. At night he was free to escape, but it was too dangerous to move about freely in this body. Its inferior self-defense capabilities left him open to the eye-eating, flesh-gorging mutants that wandered about. The humans themselves were likely a risk at night as well.

But staying in his room yielded no results either. No matter how he tried, the windows were impossible to get through without the proper equipment. Nothing in his room was of any use except for the small radio this facility had left in his room. Given the right tools, he could most probably alter it to something useful; a long range communicator or at the very least a weapon. But he had nothing but writing utensils and these nubby fingers to help him.

Useless. Every last one of these things. They would rue the day they trapped Zim in this filthy, putrid flesh. It was now he understood just how WEAK and INCAPABLE humans really were. He would be sure to use this knowledge in the future. For now...

He looked down at the tray of food his extraordinarily chipper nurse had placed in his hands. For now... there was food experimentation to be done. He would die if he didn't find what other foods were tolerable. Best to start now. Zim took a seat at a nearby empty table and began poking the syrup soaked bread with the plastic fork.

[waiting for his WACKY pal]

[ienvyroaches.livejournal.com]

[askdjfhasljdkfashf]

Nny woke up to the very disconcerting view of a pillow clamping around his head. Not just covering, clamping, and he could swear he felt some drool drip down his scalp. With a muffled yell, he pulled the thing off his face and promptly fell got out of bed.

'I think it likes you,' whispered a voice from under the bed. Nny scrambled up and glared.

"Fuck you."

Nny didn't bother mentioning anything to the nurse when she came in. He had no desire to start a conversation about how fucking crazy he was, especially not with a nurse. All in all, he was frustrated as hell. The night didn't go as well as he'd hoped. Wasn't he supposed to at least get a knife? Shit, he'd probably have more luck making a run for it now. At least he wouldn't fall asleep halfway there, not before feeling a needle anyway.

Deciding (after a bit of thought) that his luck with kids was slightly better than his luck with other patients, Nny decided that the table with the angry-looking boy would be best. "Can I sit here?" he asked, actually waiting for an answer before sitting down. Oh yes, today was a good day for manners.

[ol-canucklehead.livejournal.com]

[Sanzo!]

Logan coughed himself awake, turning slowly to see that Parker's bed was freshly made, unruffled, and...still empty. He cursed as he struggled to sit up, a bolt of pain striking through his midsection. He looked down despondently. Oh, righ', he thought as he caught sight of the bandages across almost the entirety of his torso. Venom. Well, he'd get to him soon enough. Provided that damn punk kid didn't get brainwashed again any time soon. The last night's experience had not been pretty. But, he supposed he deserved it, in a round-about sort of way. The worst part, worse even than the humiliating gutting he'd received, was that everything was in 2D. His eye had been gouged, gone, removed. Again. A bandage covered the socket. At least this time he knew it would be back. Not like the time Cyber had ripped the very same eye clean from its socket after killing Janice. But he'd shown him. And he would show Venom. Just as soon as he could...walk...properly once more.

He moved gingerly, favouring his midsection, and momentarily stopped as he realised he was attached to...something. Moving his good eye up and along the tubing, he realised what it was; a drip. He'd not needed one of those for a good long time, and knew he must be in a pretty bad way if they'd hooked him up to that. Luckily for him (as lucky as he could be after last night's debacle), it was suspended from a wheeled harness, so that it could move with him. Logan grunted. He doubted it would be less than 24 hours before he could eat solid foods again. Not good. He needed his strength. Now more than ever. Suddenly, his thoughts flicked to his companion from the night before, Parker's friend. He wasn't close to the boy, but felt a certain amount of responsibility for him all the same. He scowled; the last time he'd seen the boy, he was in very bad shape. He just hoped the younger man had made it through the night alive.

His nurse bustled into the room before the Canadian had any further chance to expound upon his existing thoughts. In a way, he was mildly grateful. Too much time spent inside his own head was never much fun, after all. "Good morning, James!" She said brightly, reaching forward to take him by the arm. "As you know, your...unfortunate injuries mean that you won't be able to enjoy breakfast this morning, but the drip will keep you going for now! If you like, I can escort you to the Cafeteria so you can meet with your friends!"

Friends. Yeah, right. She was so cheery. If he'd had the strength, right now he would have thought nothing of twisting her little neck until the bones snapped like twigs. But instead, he merely mumbled his consent, and, following her lead, allowed himself to be practically dragged towards the institute's central room. Once there, he was directed straight to a seat, which he took dejectedly as he rubbed his still-healing right hand across the bandages and stitches covering his abdomen. Logan had a strong feeling that this was not going to be a good day.

[mukuchi.livejournal.com]

[Sai!]

Mori was once again blocked from going to see his cousin. What was it about these nurses and refusing to let him see his own family? Was it something in his supposedly real life?

...

That was a terrible thought.

Mori just shrugged and went off to the other end of the cafeteria, taking a tray of food with him as he went. The french toast and things weren't his style, but the eggs, fruit and sausages were fine. He took a glass of milk to go along with it and sat down where he'd have a good view of Mitsukuni and his blonde companion. He knew he shouldn't worry so much, but he simply couldn't help himself. He worried about everyone else, too, and a quick survey of the room let Mori know exactly where they were and what they were up to. The days, at least, didn't seem too dangerous so he could relax a little more. And maybe catch up on sleep. He'd been rather tired lately.

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

The ninja was still tired, but attempting to train Mello last night had the unexpected added result of relieving some of the stress that had been building up. He sat up in bed, taking long deep breaths before his nurse arrived.

Yes. He was definitely feeling better.

That didn't mean he was ready to approach anyone from his world just yet - not even after reading that Kakashi and Sakura had returned again. That could wait just a little longer. Somehow, he hoped they got the most of their explanation from someone else.

He picked out very little for himself, finding a seat across from a familiar but not too familiar face and plastering on the same fake smile as always. "Good morning," he greeted. This was his roommate's cousin, wasn't it? Of some relation, anyway.

[whiteychan.livejournal.com]

It wasn't due to his unnatural fear of human flesh in his food that caused Hitsugaya to avoid the breakfast lines today, but a lingering sorrow that seemed to hang over him and creep about him. It followed him from the moment he woke, still weakened from the overexertion of reiatsu from the night before. It followed him down the hall and into the cafeteria, and it took a seat next to him as he sat at an empty table with an empty tray. There was no confusing the issue. Two simple truths confronted him.

Renji was dead.

He had killed him.

And even in that moment of self-hate and loathing, Hitsugaya knew he had made the right choice. He would have made it again and again were the issue presented to him. Duty came first, before all else, and a shinigami's duty was to protect the mortal world as well as the spirit world. A shinigami's life was sacrifice, and Renji would have wanted it no other way. Fowl would bitch and moan about Renji dying over his foolishness, but it was not Fowl who made the conscious decision to let Renji die. Fowl committed a sin of ignorance...amusing for someone so smart. Hitsugaya let Renji die knowing full well he could have saved him.

Yet saving Renji would have meant the death of Artemis, and that was inexcusable not just because Artemis was a friend, but because he was mortal. He would have just as gladly taken Artemis' wounds himself had he been able, and he trusted and knew that every single shinigami trapped here would have done the same thing. It was no small part of who they were, and to have saved Renji over Artemis would have been in line with the twelfth division's despicable logic...simple practicality with no regard for true duty and purpose.

He was not about to be like that. He did what was right, and he knew this firmly; however, the guilt still remained. It was the burden of any captain that his men would have to die because of his decisions, and on a lesser man the decision itself would have destroyed them utterly. Hitsugaya simply needed time to grieve, time to cope with the loss of Renji and the greater truth.

With Renji dead, so too died the heart of Arts and Crafts.

Hitsugaya had killed that, too.

He sighed once, only once, and continued to stare blankly off into space.

[free!]

[lighthearted]

Waking up with that feeling of dread, hoping that maybe the night before had been a dream - it was one of the most unpleasant sensations Sora could recall having.

There had been times before this. When he had woken up one day and realized that both Kairi and Riku were gone; when he had woken up and realized that even if Kairi was back, Riku was still missing; when he had woken up only to find out that he was missing a year of memories...

It never got any easier, and he had to face the truth. One of the very first close friends he had made here at Landel's was gone. While he knew there were so many of them still left to fight and win this battle, losing Renji was a huge blow.

On the other hand, he had seen the way that the institute had worn down on the shinigami. It had seemed like each time Sora had seen the man recently, he had been in an even worse mood. Losing Rukia might have been the last straw, and Sora felt his heart hammering in his chest when he realized that Renji had possibly wanted to die.

"Matt, you need to get up!"

Sora glanced over from his bed, eyeing the nurse who was standing in the middle of the room. She had probably been there for a while and he just hadn't realized. He let out a small sigh and got out of bed the same way he did every morning.

Life went on, but he would never forget Renji. They hadn't known each other for long, but the man had still affected Sora.

He felt like he was walking in a fog as he entered the cafeteria. He wanted to see Kairi - she would be able to help - but there was no sign of her. Sora let himself be ushered through the food line, and once he had his French toast and scrambled eggs he was left to find a place to sit on his own.

It wasn't long before he spotted Hitsugaya, and without thinking about it, he made his way over to the Arts and Crafts leader. He barely knew the shinigami, but here was someone who was probably hurting even more than he was.

He settled down across from the younger boy, sending him a sober look. "I... heard about what happened."

[heavens-too-far.livejournal.com]

[Reserved for Guy~]

Dias was not having a good morning. As a result, neither was his nurse, who'd had to call in a few orderlies to threaten him into good behavior when he'd angrily demanded an explanation for what they'd done with Ashton now.

Seeing Ashton the day before...it had been an incomparable relief. He'd allowed himself to relax for the first time in days, making his way to his friend's room almost leisurely with the comforting weight of the ring Ashton had given him on his finger to reassure him that Ashton had been fine and in his arms mere hours ago.

Finding the room empty had, in light of that, been perhaps the cruelest trick on Martin Landel's part that the man could possibly have played on him. There was no Axel, no Ashton, no sign that either of them had inhabited the room for days - there weren't even any dinner trays to indicate anyone had eaten there. Dias had spent the rest of the night trying to find the nurse's office, without luck, on the off chance that Ashton had been taken back there...

There was no question in his mind that something was gravely wrong now. After having been gone so long, and having seen how worried Dias had been about him, there was no way Ashton would have made himself unavailable for anything that wasn't earth-shattering in magnitude. The fact that he hadn't been around when they'd made plans to go out together the night before, that he hadn't left a note reassuring Claude on the bulletin board at the earliest opportunity, that he wasn't visible at breakfast when he clearly hadn't eaten in his room the night before - if anything, Dias was more on edge now than he'd been before seeing Ashton in the courtyard yesterday. Was Landel keeping him prisoner somewhere?

It was a good thing Dias had felt well enough to eat heartily the night before, because this morning he could only bring himself to pick at his food.

[nobleman]

While it was frustrating to wake up with his arm still held in a sling (even if it was better set now due to Kratos), Guy could at least take solace in the fact that the pain was much more manageable today. He could still barely move the limb without causing pain, but he knew how to be careful.

He just had to get through one more day and then he'd be able to get it healed. His first move after that would have to be finding some medical supplies to give to the clinic in return.

One step at a time, though. First he had to get through the day, which meant getting himself out of bed and heading to breakfast. Okita had left before him (and Guy assured himself that his roommate was still here, since he didn't need to make himself worry unnecessarily), and Guy took his time getting up and slipping his feet into the standard slippers that were provided.

All things considered, life wasn't so bad at the moment. He hadn't been forced to face off with Sync since two nights ago, Claude had handled the news of his phobia surprisingly well, and he would be on the mend soon.

He felt a little more discouraged when he entered the cafeteria and there was still no sign of Jade or the emperor. Anise was there, though, and she was talking to Claude of all people. Seeing them brought a smile to the swordsman's face.

His nurse helped him through the food line - he got sausages and eggs (things he could eat with one hand), and the nurse carried his tray for him, asking him where he wanted to sit.

That was a good question. Guy scanned the room, not really having anyone in particular in mind, when he spotted Dias. The man was on his own, and he didn't appear to be doing very well. There was a certain tension around him that Guy was picking up on - Claude was already busy, and he didn't see Leon or Ashton around--

Ashton. Was that what this was about?

Guy knew he wasn't the best person for the job, but since none of Dias' friends appeared to be available to talk to him, he thought he might give it a shot, seeing how his mood was decent at the moment. He indicated to his nurse where he wanted to go, and she walked there with him and set the tray down. After nodding to her in thanks, Guy took a seat and eyed the man.

"No luck with finding him?" There was no point in skipping around the subject. If Dias didn't want to talk to it, Guy was pretty sure he'd say as much.

[31st-of-china.livejournal.com]

The first thing Sanzo noticed was that his vision was more or less back; getting greeted with the sight of a nurse and her orderly shadow wasn't exactly on his list of things he'd want to see after being partially-blinded. Kenren was gone, but with the way this place was going, it was to be expected.

It still hurt to move. At least he didn't feel like he was both burning up and freezing all over.

Minor improvements aside, Sanzo wasn't in the mood to eat. He wanted to lay down and pass out again, but he had to find Goku.

Sanzo sat down heavily at an empty table, resting his forehead in his hands. The light was still hurting his eyes. With the way this day was starting out, he was going to have the migraine from hell at this rate.

[ol-canucklehead.livejournal.com]

[Erm, weren't we meeting for breakfast? I posted further up, but for simplicity's sake, I'm moving my midget to your location. Will delete if this is not...according to plan.]

Logan found himself moving, despite the pain. Something compelled him to get up, dragging his unwieldy (and unwelcome) drip-frame along with him. He'd caught sight of the man as soon as he'd entered the room, and had almost unconsciously tracked his movements before his slowly-churning brain had finally registered. Ah yes. The guy who he'd tussled with a few nights ago. The one who'd shot him clean through the head. Killed him, for want of a better word. Despite the pain, the mutant persisted. He had a few questions for this young man, not least of which was how the hell he'd managed to acquire a firearm in this place. Hefting himself slowly, and very painfully, into a seat opposite the Japanese-looking monk, Logan was finally able to choke out a few words in what he was sure was the younger man's native language, although his unusual accent came through as strong as ever. "Mornin'. Min' if I sit here? You remember me?" The Canadian decided he'd start the conversation off simply, already prepared for what would no doubt be a barrage of questions surrounding why, or even how he was still alive. He wondered that himself, more often than not.

[mazoku-king.livejournal.com]

It had been hard for the young Maou to wake up this morning. The drugs in his system had left a lingering trace of sluggishness t his body and mind, but the persistent prod from his nurse had forced Yuuri out of bed. It took him a few minutes to remember what he was doing before waking up in his bed. Exploding doors, wasn’t it? Well, that was what Hohenheim had said, but unfortunately the most they got was a little smoke from the first door.

Yawning loudly as he stretched his arms above his head and entered into the cafeteria, Yuuri wiped the sleep from his eyes before he glanced around. He couldn’t see either Hohenheim or Wolfram in the cafeteria which caused the young Maou to pout subtly. They’d arrive when they were ready, and until then, he would sit and enjoy his breakfast.

He was starving! It felt like he hadn’t eaten a good meal in a week - probably because he’d missed dinner last night because of being sedated. Grabbing himself some French toast, Yuuri also grabbed some juice before happily making his way over to sit at one of the tables.

[Waiting for John Connor]

[lost-turkey.livejournal.com]

John was in a piss poor mood. His talk with Derek plagued him and he sat up all night trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. He grabbed some french toast and some orange juice, wanting to find a quiet place where he could think but all of the tables were full making it difficult for any chance of quiet. He spotted a table with little people around and decided that it would be the easiest to sit and not care about distractions. Perhaps small talk would take his mind off of more troubling matters.

"Hey," he said to the kid sitting down. "Mind if I sit here?"

[centermusthold]

The second time Brennan awoke in the strange, sterile room, she was not very surprised. If this continued, she expected herself to become exponentially less startled each time.

A quick examination of the room led to the conclusion that everything was the same at night as it was during the day - with the notable exception of light. The fact that the door opened so soon after she was mobile suggested that the room was being monitored remotely, probably from a distance that took a few minutes to walk. So the surveillance room was maybe a third of a mile away... A decent-sized prison, then.

That the woman who entered was dressed as a nurse corroborated Keman's story that this was a fake mental institution.

“It’s good to see you’ve finally woken up, Miss Keenan,” the woman said cheerfully.

“My name is Brennan,” Brennan responded. “Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian Institute. I’m sure if you check your records you’ll see that you’re in error – and probably legal trouble – for detaining me.”

The woman glanced at her clipboard and clicked her tongue, which Brennan found vaguely offensive. “Don’t you remember, dear?” Okay, that was really offensive. What kind of proto-military terrorist organizationor brainwashing cult referred to their captives as ‘dear’? Was this some kind of Death By Obnoxious Nicknames Squad? “You are Joy Keenan, of the Smithsonian Institute.”

Suppressing individual personality and trying to imprint a new one. Yes, they were definitely trying to brainwash her. With her… real name. How could they possibly know that name unless they were privy to Booth’s report on the McVicar case or earlier reports of her parents' criminal activity? The implications of that were troubling, to say the least.

And what the hell was the Smithsonian?

Brennan glared at the woman. “No,” she said slowly, just in case the woman was simply deficient and not, in fact, a devious mastermind of psychosocial intimidation. “No, I’m not.”

The woman merely smiled and said, "Why don't you come have some breakfast, Joy? You should meet new people." Well, she might as well observe her captors before making a move. It would be sensible to discern their modus operandi and then determine the best course of action. So she grabbed the blank journal - which the "nurse" didn't seem to mind - and followed the woman into what appeared to be a large cafeteria, already bustling with activity.

There was no sense in being held prisoner and malnourished, so Brennan got some french toast, a bowl of fruit, a few sausages, and a glass of milk before finding a seat away from everyone else and beginning to note a few observations in the journal.

[for Farf]

[jei.livejournal.com]

Newbie day! Ahh, Farfarello loved newbie day. All sorts of new toys to play with. Which almost made up for the fact that last night had been completely, stupidly, bizarre. He'd started walking down the hall to knock on Artemis' door... and that was it. End of night. Unbelivably lame! He was at risk of becoming critically--dangerously--bored, if this kept up. Well, that was a matter to discuss later, if Schuldig was in a better mood today. In the meantime...

After taking his usual breakfast of bacon, sausage and a token bit of fruit, Farfarello sought out a nice, fresh newbie to poke at. There was one, a woman taking notes in her journal--brainy type? Could be fun. At the very least, she wouldn't bore him with stupidity.

Farfarello sat himself down across from the note-taker, giving her his best shark's grin and a merry, "Morning."

[darwinism]

[ FINALLY BRAIN-STEALER ARRIVES FOR THE OP. Sorry! ;;

OOC Note: Continuity error in regards to when Sylar finds Elle's post for him. Player is retconning so that he sees it on his way to breakfast on this day, even though it was posted one day prior and he has already responded to it in RL time. Simplifies things a bit. 8D ]

When Sylar shot up in bed, it wasn't from the force of having been knocked out but instead the pleasure of having one-upped his opponent for once during his miserable time here. He smirked and stood from his bed, knowing that, while he was still caged and was still subject to this place's weakening, he at least had proven that he wasn't to be underestimated. He could still be at the top of the food chain even without his powers, while Peter... well, Peter used his abilities as crutches rather than gifts. He didn't truly deserve them.

A quick search of his otherwise empty room (his roommate was still sleeping, but then again, he was always sleeping) revealed that his sack of fertilizer was still where he'd hidden it. Next came the memory of the man he'd gotten it from, and though he braced himself for the usual horrible headache, the pain wasn't so bad this time. Sylar slowly opened his eyes from a wince and smirked. His brain and body must have been finally hard-wiring the new power into his system. He couldn't wait to try out his new ability – not just against Peter, but Bennet too, and Bennet's lovely daughter. Then, there were the other people he'd met – Rukia, Eddie, and that Clark kid. This could give him new leverage against all of them.

And, of course, there was also Elle. She'd be getting what was coming to her.

But first... he'd have to play his part of the meek Zachary Blaine. He smiled and was pleasant with his nurse; because of this, she didn't stop him when he asked if he could check the bulletin on his way to breakfast and what he found was very intriguing. Elle was trying to play two sides, but Sylar would wait to confront her. There was a chance that at least one or two people on the list were real.

Once in the cafeteria, he grabbed a plate of french toast and scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted Elle with Peter Petrelli; what were they cooking up?

He ducked his head, took the nearest seat – one across from a red-haired man – and began to eat. He did this quietly for a few seconds before looking up and noticing the enormous amount of food on the other man's plate, but more than that, the crutch leaning against the chair.

This guy was weakened. That meant that not only was he vulnerable and probably more open to allies, but he also had a convenient conversation-starter.

"Bad night, huh?" Sylar asked with a wry smile, nodding at the crutch.

[scarletspeedstr.livejournal.com]

"Huh?" Wally glanced up from where he'd been lost in thought (and no little enjoyment of his substantial breakfast) to find he'd been joined by another patient, someone he hadn't met yet.

"Oh," he said, glancing at the crutch and back at his new companion. "Actually, that's from the night before last. Ran into something that decided I tasted nice in more ways that the one I normally get. " He flashed a trademarked smile and winked at the implication before continuing.

"Last night I actually, uh, slept. I kinda nodded off while waiting for someone." Luckily from what he'd seen on the bulletin board on the way here, ZEX hadn't ended up coming by after all, but that didn't stop him from feeling bad about it. Hopefully tonight wouldn't be a repeat performance.

"Anyway, I'm Wally West. Are you new here or have we just not met before?" Leaning forward slightly, Wally extended a hand and smiled broadly as he introduced himself. He was always open to making new friends, even if he hadn't been in a situation where his contacts and the information they could provide would be important to survival. And if this guy was new to the fun and excitement that was Landel's Institute, than Wally would be happy to explain what was going on for him, before he found out the hard way on his own.

[gothamnight.livejournal.com]

[Fearmaster with his toast, please?]

For the second time in the past (and very unusual) night, Bruce found himself unconscious--then, upon opening his eyes, abruptly awake. Blinking, Bruce felt the familiar sensation of his eyes adjusting to the light as he looked around the room: identical to the one he'd woke up in, if not the same. His eyes narrowed as he went over what he remembered with a slight feeling of déjà vu. Perhaps he should be grateful that the bed was warmer now, and his body still--

--injured. He was still injured. The same makeshift bandages around his neck and back and arms; the same coagulated flecks and drops of pus and blood on his--still mocking--shirt and pants. Well, at least he was in the same place--if not the same condition--that he'd arrived in. He wasn't sure what his reaction would have been if he'd woken in another strange location, though he'd admit, part of him had been hoping that perhaps once
morning came, he'd find this all an absurd and impossibly realistic dream. No such luck; though, despite his hopes, Bruce hadn't really expected any.

The last thing he could remember was discussing Victorian-Era swimwear with Grell Sutcliffe and Donna Noble. Before that, they talked about time travel, parallel dimensions, pop-culture-based jokes only they'd been about Batman instead of something like the Gray Ghost. Before that they'd fought rotting bat monsters, walked the hallways...

...yes, Bruce had all his memories from the moment he'd woken up in the institute up until now, only there was another gap in his memory between the swimming conversation and waking up. The second gap in his memory in so many hours.

It was then that the door handle turned--quiet, but not quiet enough. Sure enough, another moment and the door opened, and Bruce focused completely on the figure who entered.

"Good morning, Mr. Wayne," the nurse--for she was a nurse, judging by the uniform--said with a smile that looked like it'd been cut from a billboard advertising toothpaste. "I trust you had a restful ni--oh dear," she said, clucking a bit as her eyes settled on Bruce's bandages.

"Sorry," he said, flinching automatically when she touched him. He forced himself to relax, and aimed another sheepish but hopefully charming smile at her as he let her take a look at the injuries.

"I really meant to take it easy while I'm here," he said calmly, remembering that if this place was pretending to be a mental institution during daytime, it'd be best to play along on the off-chance that the nurses would let down their guard. "But...something about this place just isn't doing it for me. I've been a bit...tense. Jumpy."

"That's nothing to be concerned about, Mr. Wayne. All the new patients take awhile to adjust properly to things," she said with the same, unflappable smile. "After we get you patched up, we'll see if we can't have you more relaxed and smiling."

[gothamnight.livejournal.com]

Seeing how his first attempts at questioning the staff were going...somehow, Bruce doubted that. Outwardly though, Bruce Wayne grinned a little.

"Oh? And is it in your interest to see me smile?"

This effort was rewarded with a startled sort of giggling laughter. After that, the nurse seemed less wary--though any attempts at getting some specific answers from her about the Institute were generally unsuccessful. It was when she made to escort him to where he could get his wounds treated before breakfast that Bruce finally risked asking a real question--the one that'd been lingering in the back of his mind since he'd found out he had an "alternate life" in this place.

"Um, nurse..."

She blinked, but kept smiling, "Yes, Mr. Wayne?"

"About my parents..."

The cheery smile on the nurse's face dropped suddenly away as a look of concern and sympathy replaced it. He thought he'd heard her mutter and here I thought he'd-- as she picked up the pen and jotted something down on her clipboard, leaving Bruce's question hanging until she was done and finally looked up again.

"They're....not here, Mr. Wayne," she said, still with that look of quiet but superficial sympathy. "And they won't ever be. Do you think you can remember? They--"

"--were shot to death by a mugger when I was eight," he finished hollowly, a hope he hadn't realized he'd been harboring dissipating and giving away to a familiar weight. Truthfully, he had no way of knowing that this imitation of the world would be so accurate, but judging from how the nurse winced at his blunt words and averted her gaze...


...some time later, Bruce (newly bandaged and disinfected) was led to the Sun Room to get breakfast. As he looked around, he found himself thinking of that other time--the time when Jervis Tetch had found it fit to lock the Batman's brain away in Bruce's ideal, imaginary world. A world full of happiness, and no responsibility. In a way, the strangeness he felt now was a kind of déjà vu: another fake, another battle, another escape. And yet, far from being any sort of ideal, this place was...he'd just confirmed it was...

...at least the Hatter'd been kind enough to give them back.

[simpleastherain.livejournal.com]

[Ururu + Uryuu~ Sorry, you get emohime. :<]

Orihime couldn't make her hands stop shaking. She'd thought, maybe, she would be alright if she just told herself that Rukia wasn't gone just like Ichigo wasn't gone - maybe lost, and they'd started their club to find them. That was alright. So she shouldn't be sad, or worried, or scared to death for what might have happened to them because they weren't gone, just a little lost. And she would be fine because she needed to be fine because people were already so hurt without her problems on them. That was what she told herself. And she couldn't stop her hands from shaking.

Renji was dead. Not lost, but dead. And though they hadn't talked much really, she still considered him a friend. He was one of the people who had come when she was lost, and just like that time she was trapped while her friends fell away one by one.

She left her breakfast tray. She didn't think she could eat, anyway. The nurse let her sit somewhere quiet and put her head down. She wasn't going to cry. She just wanted to sleep a little bit more. Maybe if she had some time to breathe, she could collect herself enough to talk to Keman later. As much as it hurt, she knew she had to keep going. It was just right now..she needed to breathe.

[bewarethecute.livejournal.com]

[We don't get Ishida-san though. He isn't up this shift.]

Ururu had felt much better when she woke up that morning, and she hoped it was the same for everyone else. Her arm still hurt a little, but she could use it now, and that was good. Skuld wasn't in the room though, and Ururu hoped she was okay. When the nurse came, she went quietly without asking questions, because she didn't think they'd tell her the truth about what happened.

Everything was going well that morning, up until the point Ururu saw Orihime. The girl wasn't eating, and that was bad. She also had her head down, and Ururu wondered if maybe Orihime was still too tired from the night before. Making sure to get an extra glass of juice, the little girl went over to her friend's side, setting her tray down before patting Orihime on the arm.

"Wh-what's wrong, Orihime-san?" She didn't like seeing her friends sad, and Ururu hoped nothing bad had happened.

[fullmetal-smile.livejournal.com]

[For Leon and alchemy geeking!]


Ed was in a relatively good mood the next day for once. Actually getting something done last night had been a great help when it came to that. And now they had alcohol and sweet things and could have a party! Everyone needed something to keep their spirits high and this seemed like as good an idea as any other.

He grabbed a plate and shoved as much French Toast onto it as he could, liberally doused it with syrup and powdered sugar and then headed over to a table where he could wait for Leon to arrive. He was looking forward to discussing his alchemy some more. It was always something that he enjoyed doing.

[heraldric.livejournal.com]

The good thing about being given a journal at Landel's was that the nurses didn't question you much when you wanted to carry it around with you, as Leon often did. As such, it was tucked under one arm as he arrived at Ed's table with a somewhat smaller portion of breakfast than the blond.

"Hey," he said cheerfully, just before the smile faded into something more nervous. "I'm sorry if I took up too much of your time last night." If he became a nuisance, Ed wouldn't want to teach him and he didn't know who else to go to.

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

Two solar cycles locked in this facility, and still Starscream was getting used to how...fluidly his synthoid body behaved. As if on instinct, the Decepticon leader yawned and extended his limbs, the ligaments within stretching in a disturbingly satisfying manner, an act clearly intended to partially energize the body in preparation for the day's activities. It is time for the morning refueling session, he thought to himself, digging through the desk drawer and finding his notebook and one of the writing implements now strewn about. With a careful creak, he stepped out into the hallway, angrily following the heard of flesh-creatures processing to the..."cafeteria". He circled the area on the map corresponding to the refueling station and made note of the various routes that could be taken to arrive there.

A number of the flesh creatures already seated or obtaining their food stuffs looked to have random parts of their bodies covered with strips of cloth and gauze. Those must be designed to stem the flow of blood while their primitive repair functions heal the damage to their organs, Starscream mused. No doubt the injuries were sustained while they ventured into the night, foolishly attacking the monsters I continue to hear about. Silly flesh creatures...that's not bravery, it's stupidity! For now, Starscream was content to remain in his quarters during the night...yet if he wanted answers, eventually he'd have to do like the rest of the 'patients' here and explore these facilities after the sun was gone. What a dreadful thought indeed.

Tray in hand, Starscream joined the line forming in front of the food servers. Flipping open his notebook, he perused the list of food staples, checking to see which of the offerings for this session would prove optimal for the synthoid body's development. Ultimately, he settled on 'eggs' and 'bacon' ("These seem to have an optimal balance of nutrition and caloric content"), a few slices of regular toast, and a hearty handful of grapes, two apples, and a banana, along with three cartons of pure orange juice. Procuring the proper utensils for consuming these things, he found a spot all to himself and proceeded with the refueling.

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

[numberii.livejournal.com]

((Free!))

That was the first time, Xigbar had to say, that that had happened. He'd been transformed into a duck thingie... and then punted straight out of nightshift. Seriously; one moment he was flying through the air, about to brain himself on the cafeteria door, and the next he was bolt upright, aching in his limbs and his own normal size.

And he had his weapons. Most important thing of all, that.

Still, Xigbar felt disoriented and a bit disappointed... and yet, his mind was buzzing with ideas. 'Back to the room, back to the room, back to the room,' like a bunch of Finkelstein's less-brilliant collections. Could it be...? Yeah, had to be. Which meant that Xigbar had some business to take care of tonight.

With a bright smile on his face, he started chowing down on meat and French toast; he'd need all the energy he could get. Speaking of... mmmmm, a lake of syrup to drown his food in. Man, everything else sucked, but at least there was good grub~!

[promisedawhale.livejournal.com]

The skulls and bleeding snow were gone. That alone gave Brook something to be happy for when morning came around. Oh, and it wasn't so freezing anymore either! Or maybe he'd gone so numb that he just couldn't tell and it still was cold, but no matter. He didn't feel cold and the breakfast food sure looked warm and delicious!

He kindly thanked the ladies behind the food line and turned to find someone to cheer up. That had become a habit, meeting someone new every mealtime, and breakfast was especially important for meeting people. Bad nights were never a good thing, and Brook took it upon himself to cheer people up! Mornings were supposed to be a happy time, after all!

The place he approached had a man with strangely colored hair and an eyepatch, but Brook paid those no mind and laughed instead. "Yohohohohoho! Good morning! Would you mind if I sat with you, sir?" he asked energetically, but did not look as though he would take no for an answer even if the man did not want company.

[qui-gonjinn.livejournal.com]

They hadn't been able to make it to the morgue before the night ended and Qui-Gon awoke with the medical supplies he'd collected strewn about his bed. He still didn't know their uses, except from what Leon had told him: the rest he would have to find out on his own. Sitting down at the desk, the Jedi Master quickly jotted down the writing on the small boxes and bottles on a piece of paper, folding it carefully to take with him; he'd have to ask if any Earthians could recognize them and explain them, although he did already get a good inkling from the labels.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Qui-Gon glanced around for Obi-Wan, wanting to know what he had been up to since they last spoke. It wasn't that he needed to monitor him, not like when he had been a young boy and a fresh Padawan. He was a full-fledged Jedi and Qui-Gon would expect different things of him now; Sanzo's death was still fresh in his mind and he knew Obi-Wan would be taking it hard still, despite his doubts and Qui-Gon's council. But he would have to accept what happened in the basement, unfortunate as it was, and move on. It was the Jedi way.

Still, these days, Qui-Gon sometimes wondered about the Jedi way. He kept it to himself, for now, but the seeds of doubt were there and he was well-aware of them.

Starting in on the breakfast, Qui-Gon ate as he waited for Obi-Wan.

[braidless.livejournal.com]

Nightshift had ended a bit sooner than Obi-Wan had anticipated, unfortunately. Of course, without any proper planning or preparation, that in itself wasn't so surprising. Still, it had been good to run into Toph, even if they hadn't gotten anything done.

As Obi-Wan made his way to the cafeteria (accompanied by a nurse, of course), he made sure to check the bulletin. The news of Renji's death was unexpected and troubling. They hadn't known each other terribly well, but there was truth that the death of one affected all of the patients in some way or another.

He had personal experience with that, after all.

It was with a small frown that Obi-Wan finally entered the line and allowed the nurses to help put together his breakfast. By now he was accustomed to the strange Earthian dishes, so his mind was free to focus on more pressing matters. He was more than convinced that he'd made the appropriate decision in not informing the general populace about what was beyond south hall, but the Jedi knew that was only going to be a short-term solution in limiting the number of deaths in Landel's. In the end, there were going to be people who were going to ignore his advice and find what was in the arena, and Obi-Wan doubted they'd be prudent enough to keep the information to themselves.

Once Obi-Wan stepped away from the line with his tray, it didn't take him long to locate Qui-Gon. After their conversation from yesterday morning, the Jedi was actually a bit hesitant in approaching him, but he knew it would be foolish to keep his distance. As a Jedi, he was expected to put aside his feelings for the sake of duty, and being in Landel's afforded nothing different.

After setting down his tray across from his former Master, Obi-Wan sat down, but not before giving the other man a silent, polite nod in greeting.

[tranquil-seas.livejournal.com]

[For Luffy! Sorry for the delay!]

Despite the cheery greeting of her nurse, Michiru was not inclined to consider this a 'good' morning. Not after what she had learned last night. Even with Seiya's abilities, their attempts at finding Usagi were unfruitful. Either she was gone from this world, or she was being held outside of their reach. Grim as her options were, the senshi hoped for the latter.

Like the morning before, she had stashed the pipe under her bed before the nurse arrived. It was Seiya's, but for the time being it would stay in her room. At least until she found an opportunity to return it. That is, if she and the other girl intended to go their separate ways. Michiru couldn't decide how she felt about that particular issue, so she left it alone for now. She had the whole day to sort that out, preferably when she was more awake and less hungry.

Once at the cafeteria, she served herself a slice of french toast, some scrambled eggs, and an apple. A small, but well-balanced breakfast. Tray in hand, Michiru seated herself at an empty part of the table, away from any current groups of patients.

[rubbermancan.livejournal.com]

[No worries! ♥]

That hadn't been the first night Luffy had slept through, and maybe it wouldn't be the last. It wasn't like he did it on purpose or anything, though! After eating a nice dinner, it was just too easy to kick back and snooze, and then the next thing he knew, it was daytime!

Well, it was gonna get boring if he kept doing that. Maybe he needed to see what everyone else was up to. Usopp had been trying to build stuff, right? Maybe they could have another death-slug toilet adventure! Come to think of it, though, he and Zoro hadn't hung out in awhile, either. Or Nami...

Weird. Maybe he needed to check the bulletin board more often? Sometimes Luffy forgot it was there, except when he had the urge to draw a silly picture or have an awesome Meaty.

It didn't take him long to get through the line, though they way they limited how much food he could put on his tray was as annoying as always. Why did they care how much he ate, anyway? Talk about strange!

"The Cat Ladies are so weird!" Luffy casually remarked to the green-haired girl he happened to sit by on a whim. To some people, it might have been off-putting to have a random stranger sit by them and strike up a conversation without so much of a "hello," but he didn't think anything of it. "They don't know how hungry we really are, right?" He shoved a bite of food into his mouth before pausing with wide eyes.

"Unless they're mind-readers, too," he added more seriously, and he turned to look at the girl, as if he was curious about what she thought.

[innovator-skuld.livejournal.com]

Skuld startled awake like she'd been hit with her own tidal wave; she half sat up, heart pounding, as memories of the night before flooded back to her. "I..." she whimpered, her breath catching in her throat. I did that. She'd attacked the humans she was sworn to protect.

"Damn it!" she cried, turning over and pounding on the mattress with her fists. "Damn it! How could I--how could we--fall for that?" She'd had Noble Scarlet back, too, and all they did was defend the Institute's territory. All their power, theirs again for a night, and they did nothing with it. And now the little angel was locked back inside her as firmly as before.

Maybe we deserve it after falling for that...

She cried and raged and screamed until she was spent; finally, though, she was quiet. She lay on her stomach, face buried in her arms, too worn out emotionally to keep crying even if she wanted to. When the nurse came for her, she got up without resistance; if nothing else, she didn't want to be sedated again.

[[Free!]]

[tony-castaway.livejournal.com]

Late? He never slept late.

The nurse was already in the room with the overhead light on when Tony rubbed his gummy eyes and sat up. She said several things, probably information about the upcoming day, that he didn't even hear, because he was so focused inwardly on trying to bring up that clock in his head. He thought back to the clock at the top of the stairs at Hackett House. That was a real clock in a real place, but all he could see was the eerie broken one. It looked old quite new, with crisp black numbers, but the face was still cracked, the hands stuck at midnight.

With a sigh, Tony stood up and nodded to mollify his nurse. She took his arm and dragged him into the hallway without even a chance to check on Kvothe. In the cafeteria, he eagerly piled on the toast and some fruit and a large glass of milk. At least he was going to eat well this morning. Feeling somewhat cheerier, he looked around for somewhere to sit and chose an empty chair near a very quiet, sad-looking woman.

[hope that works, if not... let me know]

[tender-cruelty.livejournal.com]

He hadn't been able to do anything!

Allelujah woke with a gasp, every muscle tense and ready to throw himself into the fight, to aid River against that man. He didn't care whether or not the man was a brainwashed patient, just that he was hurting River, someone who was like Allelujah. He'd killed so many of their brethren that he could hardly allow another of them to be killed.

His hair was plastered to his forehead and he quickly brushed it to cover his right eye before the nurses arrived to take him to breakfast. He only relaxed finally when he spotted River at one table, talking to another man. That was a relief at least. He let himself be guided to a table, and set his tray down carefully before sitting.

[manhattan-red.livejournal.com]

Ouch.

Brooklyn missed the wonderful healing sleep of a gargoyle more and more every day. He still wasn't used to waking up and still being in pain. On the plus side, at leasts his wounds were now wrapped better than they'd been the night before. Perhaps Nate had found their efforts worth it, but...

The nurse that came to get him that morning offered him assistance but he turned it down (causing a momentary feeling of deja vu). He'd have to check and see how well the boy was doing.

...Except he didn't see him. After gathering a heaping helping of breakfast he found instead another somewhat familiar face. Smiling, he eased himself carefully into the seat across from him, trying to take care with the new stitches he could feel in his side. "Good morning. Think we got cut a bit short last time."

[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

[[waiting for the lover?! Aidou]]

Sasuke woke up and, for once, wasn't primarily irritated.

This was mostly because he could only focus on how overwhelmingly hungry he was. Evidently the blood loss and general successful action from the previous night had taken its toll, because when his nurse came with her unbendingly chirpy morning cheer, Sasuke only snapped at her once or twice before letting her bustle him into the cafeteria and load his tray with food.

His nurse had almost walked away when he remembered that he needed to meet with more than one person today. Asking revealed that apparently Naruto was already talking to Jiraiya (no point bothering with that conversation if the buffer of the Sannin was present) and Aidou wasn't here yet.

With any luck, the vampire would come find him, then. Sasuke returned to his breakfast with gusto as the footsteps of his nurse faded away.

[idolism]

_{[kiss kiss, Sasuke, your boyfriend is here!]}

There were multiple reasons to call the coming of the morning an unfortunate event. For one, the light was burning his eyes, a palpable prickling that was, unsurprisingly, hardly noticeable compared to the intense pain that started in his chest and seemed to end in the throbbing of his head.

The vampire was hurt and hungry. One directly caused the other. Neither were good.

As he’d come awake flat on his back, it only took him a few laboured moments to do a personal assessment. He was, as usual, back in the uniform, with fresh, clean bandages. The bleeding had stopped completely. He still couldn’t breathe properly at all. And also, that a normal person would probably be in bed, half-dead, and not moving anytime soon.

Aidou was just happy the staff hadn’t dared give him any kind of medication for the pain.

He expected it, prepared himself for it, but all the same, stepping into the cafeteria was like being hit with a wall of colors and scents. The woman over there had a sickly type of AB, the light-haired boy in the middle was covered in someone else’s blood scent, the man at the third table had a heartbeat that fluttered like a caged bird’s… He stood by the door and passed a hand over his eyes. No, it wasn‘t that he was happy. Aidou wasn’t happy with anything: the raw pain, the achievements in the basement, anything. Or unhappy. All that mattered was… was… He sucked in a shallow breath.

Eventually, Sasuke’s isolation caught the vampire’s attention, and he made his way to the table without his nurse’s interference.

“Sasuke,” he said, barely audible. That was enough.

[flashyaudacity]

Kaito groaned and pulled himself out of bed, silently cursing the timing of last night. He and Yukari had gotten over the wall, and then it was morning? They'd gotten out, but they hadn't even gotten to look around? Great.

He kept quiet when his nurse came in and took him to breakfast, stopping briefly in the sunroom on the way so that he could take a look at the bulletin board. She waited until he got his breakfast before leaving him to his own devices in the cafeteria.

Kaito looked around, spotting Yukari chatting with a young girl. He wanted to check in with her later, but he didn't want to interrupt her conversation to do it… He'd just find her later on when she was free.

He kept looking around, hoping to find someone he knew to talk to. He spotted Hattori next, sitting with Kudou, and kept looking…

…only for his gaze to snap right back to the pair. Kudou? Kudou Shinichi, "Detective of the East," was here!? And he… wasn't pint-sized?

Well that was just about perfect.

He needed to get close enough to hear what the two detectives were saying, but he didn't want to risk Kudou or Hattori catching him eavesdropping. He navigated his way around the edge of the room, eventually settling on a seat off to one side and slightly behind the detectives. He wasn't close enough to hear everything, but he could catch some words and keep an eye on them.

[Free to anyone who doesn't mind a slightly distracted thief]

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

Of course, Mikami's discussion with Light had been all too short, cut off before he even had a chance to properly respond to Light's further explanations and idea to protect themselves. And now he was in an utterly low, if thoughtful, mood, eating his meal only in the interest of remaining decently healthy and keeping up appearances.

What Light had said was all true, of course, although he would have considered the ramifications of removing people via Death Note less concerning than implied. Acknowledgments of hasty assumptions aside, Mikami thought that even if the "unknown" people with anti-Kira sentiments saw their allies being rid of, it would still be difficult for them to act on anything without exposing themselves, considering the relatively smaller population of the institute over that of his world's in general. In addition, hopefully, should a Death Note be returned, his Eyes would be as well, which would certainly make things much easier. Mello, at least, already knew Mikami had been using a Death Note anyway.

But that line of thought was mostly useless for the time being. Light knew the situation much better, and of course Mikami was going to respect his wishes in all regards. And because of that... he was now required to pretend Light's supposed hatred of Kira had, to put it kindly, distanced them. There was a story to maintain. To outside eyes, if Light was Kira, then there wasn't really any reason for him not to inform a follower of who he was. If Kira was keeping it a secret, then he wouldn't have allowed Mikami to come to a bad anything but a neutral conclusion. It was possible that whoever might be watching might suspect it was an act, but Mikami didn't think there really was much they could do about it anyway. Hopefully, the fact that Mikami had "proved" himself rather unsubtle both here and back "home" would be beneficial as well, since it was possible it would make any enemies who already knew of his actions think less of his ability to hide things.

But unfortunately for Mikami's already over-active thought-train, he'd also had a rather unpleasing realization this morning. In his preoccupation last night, he had left Edgeworth behind with Mello alone. Perhaps he was being jumpy in wake of talking to the young man himself, but he couldn't completely reject the possibility that Mello might try something on the other prosecutor. And with what had transpired on the bulletin board....

[totallytheseme.livejournal.com]

[and Hikaru!]

Once again, another nightshift with absolutely nothing accomplished. Maybe they really should just stay inside tonight. At least they'd get some sleep that way.

Hikaru set his tray down and began what had become his normal morning ritual: looking for his twin. It didn't look like Kaoru had emerged yet, though, so now it was time for ritual number two--

Waiting for his twin.

The bulletin board posts had provided some amusement, at least. The idea of a crossdressing club had Tamaki all up in a tizzy, and it was good to have something to look forward to. The news that Renji--the guy who had kept Hikaru from bleeding to death after that damn cat decided to take out a chunk of his side--had died was a little more sobering. What if that happened to one of them?

What if it happened to all of them?

No. He couldn't think like that. There was too much to do. He couldn't die here; he had to get back to Haruhi. And look after Kaoru. Pasting a smile on his face, he zeroed in on the first available target: Glitter Man. Perfect.

"Morning!"