Day 43: Sun Room

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

Why does this place always have to spoil my fun? was the first thing HK thought when he realized he was back in his cell in the Institute. Oh well. This meant his nurse would be coming soon to lead him off to whatever boring place he was supposed to go to now.

The meatbag arrived a few moments later, asking him in an overly cheerful tone if he slept well. HK responded with and equally cheerful "Statement: I was having the most wonderful dream. A dream of killing all humans." He managed to make a facial expression for best effect: A happy, terrifying grin. "And I think you were in it," he finished with an especially gleeful note.

The nurse nearly dragged him all the way down to the Sun Room. Success! He took a seat in one of the chairs, feeling smug.

[Free!]

Comments

[scalyfishman.livejournal.com]

That, as they say, was that. The fat femme-bot had finished her number and Depth Charge's world was markedly free of zombies.

It was not, unfortunately, free of pain.

Right away the Autobot realised just how much slag he'd let himself take that night. Even the thick wad of bandages didn't pad the tears on his back enough to stop the pain radiating from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, and he hadn't even gotten up yet. The fact that he'd been lying on his crowbar didn't exactly make matters any better. His arms felt bruised and his head hurt like the Pit, and, while it wasn't the worst state he'd ever been in, getting up was the last thing he wanted to do for another fifty megacycles or so.

The Institute, however, had other ideas. Suddenly there was some computer voice telling him he was in Landel's Institute and calling herself Iris, and all he could think through the blur of irritation was simply Is that really how humans think robots talk? Looking on the positive side (he wasn't really being given a choice here), it at least gave him something to focus on other than his aches and pains. Just where was Landel, anyway? Out getting his ego massaged?

After a while a nurse turned up to coax him out from under the sheets and take him to, well, wherever he wanted, this time. Cute. This was their idea of kindness? Wearily, he muttered something about taking a nap and the nurse took him the the Sun Room. The bulletin board was practically overflowing with notes- either people were eager to catch up or that human with the management fetish had been there already.

Whatever. Stretching himself out sideways across an armchair, Depth Charge closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He could check up on Javert and Astor later; as tough as it was to admit it, he wanted to make sure they were okay. It had been a long time since he'd worked in a team without something screwing up, and while last night hadn't exactly been a roaring success... well. Maybe, just a little bit, it had worked for him.

[I know I said third/fourth shift, but you're still free, soooooo~ *STEALS(]

[hailmegatron.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/690790.html?thread=56384358#t56384358)]

Lugnut marched right out of the cafeteria, Scourge trailing behind him, and scanned the room for Blitzwing.

Still nothing, slagitall. But there was Depth Charge, who was relaxing, and was... not safe, but he wouldn't sprain Lugnut's wrist.

Lugnut lumbered over and sat on the couch opposite Depth Charge, staring blankly at the Auto-- Maximal, ice pack still pressed to his wrist.

[whohitreset.livejournal.com]

Matt had woken up and immediately bitten the arm of the nurse standing over his bed. It wasn't a deep bite, hardly enough to leave a mark, because he realized the moment he did it that the hunger had left him. He pulled away almost as quickly, leaving the nurse to stare at him bemusedly.

"Miles," she finally asked after a few moments pause, "did you just bite me?"

"...Yes ma'am."

He found himself being handed a granola bar, but when the woman tried to drag him off to breakfast he protested and was finally allowed to gnaw on the snack in the sun room. Last night had been far too out of the ordinary for him to want to avoid the discussions it would cause. He kept his eyes peeled for familiar faces as well as new ones.

There was also a chance that Lelouch would stop by here if he survived the night. He hadn't yet forgotten that particular task, even after the trauma of the night before.

His arm had been taken care of, it seemed. The bandaged area was much smaller than the extent of the rot had been. That was a relief. Hopefully by making it to sunrise he'd avoided any permanent effects from having been bitten by a zombie.

[free~]

[ryuuzaki]

[from here.]

L made the decision to approach Matt solely because there was an element of familiarity about him.

Most of these people do not appear to be sick, or injured enough to be hospital inpatients, he thought, so it seems possible that this is a facility for psychiatric treatment, or maybe for the treatment of addictions...? No, there would be supporting materials suggesting that as the goal. The other possibility is that they are not patients at all.

He popped up in front of Matt, all unkempt black hair and staring dark eyes.

"You are familiar to me. Why?"

[rope-victim.livejournal.com]

”Good morning, Alice, I’m afraid I have some very exciting and disappointing news. I’m sorry, but Akihiro…” Miku had stopped listening past that statement. So, he was gone. Maybe it was shock, but Miku couldn’t get herself to feel anything but cheated and empty. Like an automaton, she’d eaten like her nurse had asked, and now sat in the Sun Room, staring into space from her seat on a couch. When she finally started crying, the noise was quiet, despite her soft gasps for air between waves. Her tears left messy trails down her cheeks, and the box of tissues a nurse had put beside her were soon empty.

He made a promise he couldn’t keep.

She should’ve been used to that.

People broke promises all the time.

Even, perhaps especially, the people she loved.

Miku rubbed at her face with the cuff of her sleeve as she continued to beat herself up mentally. Last night was a horror, a true horror. Sousuke had compensated beautifully for the both of them, and he said he’d be there in the morning with her. Promised, like they had fourteen mornings previously. Oh God, had it really only been that tiny window of time? It’d felt like so much longer…! But, maybe she had just tricked her already wonky sense of time into believing it felt longer. Miku didn’t know, not really, and rested her head against knees, as though she were trying to disappear inside herself. Her mind threw more guilt over her like some horrible blanket. What did she have left now? Some pictures of them, happy, some memories that - should he reappear - he wouldn't even remember. The realization stung more than the guilt had.

She shouldn’t have admitted her feelings for him. Should never, ever, have kissed him, worried about him, or wanted to make him happy. She should have let a chance encounter with a mysterious stranger go unexplored, and simply have taken his bravery in her rescue at face value.

Miku knew she should’ve done all those things, though she hadn’t. But was she in the wrong? Did she even have the right to mourn, knowing that this situation – or any numbers of others – was going to come one day? Maybe, she thought, hiding her face again in her sleeves to catch any errant tears. I don’t really have the right. I guess that’s okay. I’m sorry you’re gone, Sousuke. I hope you’re happy. Please. Please be happy…

She ran her tongue over her chapped lips, tasting salt, feeling her breath hitch in her chest before it started all over again. I’m sorry. I loved you. I’m so, so sorry.

[Free, but you might need a boat.]

[mizuhomaiden.livejournal.com]

Sheena woke up in a lot of pain and a lot of bandages. Her wounds had all been expertly bandaged. She could feel stitches in her side and on the back of her shoulder where the zombie had bitten her, but overall she felt significantly better. At least she wasn't seeing black spots and seemed to have evened out to having a normal temperature. She was still bone tired, but she managed to haul herself out of bed.

It was then that she realized the morning announcement had been different. Odd. Still, she needed to go make sure Soubi, Ritsuka and Miku knew she hadn't ended up as zombie food since she hadn't made it back to them. Her first place to stop was the Sun Room to check the board if she didn't see any of them.

She did spot Miku and the other young woman crying her eyes out made the ninja completely forget about her own injuries and the pain she was in. She sat down next to Miku and reached out to gently tug her into the ninja's embrace. "Miku..."

[tyki-pon.livejournal.com]

When Tyki awoke with a start, he half-expected for Rhode to still cling to him as if her non-life depended on it. He was surprised the other members of the Zombie Crowd hadn't started munching on him already. It was kind of ironic that something he easily could've taken care of were his powers still in tact gave him so much trouble last night. He was a Noah. Not even human. But right now he really wasn't much stronger than one.

Ironic, indeed. The Noah couldn't help but to laugh to himself, not caring if the guy on the other side of the room heard him or not. He shook his head before sliding out of bed, wincing when some of his wounds heavily objected to the movement. Rhode left him with quite the souvenir, alright.

Landel sure knew how to play his games. Tyki guessed tonight had been an interesting one, even though the sheer suckery of the events that had occured were still annoying. He hadn't even gotten to loot a singel store. Or even a smoke!

The nurse soon came in, offering him the choice between some places. The Noah decided he was content with lazying around this morning. After he made himself comfortable on one of the couches in the sun room, the woman left him alone while shaking her head.

[Free! No limits!]

[deadlyjuliet.livejournal.com]

Grell awoke leisurely for once. Unlike most of the other people in this place, he had rather enjoyed the night. Not only had he gotten a present out of the deal, but he'd found a most lovely gift to himself and spent the evening bringing suffering upon people he really couldn't care less about. Now, he usually wasn't one to go for the sadistic route, but he couldn't deny the pleasure he took in making the patients' lives just a little harder. He needed to draw the Higher Ups' attentions and to do that, he had to break rules. Unfortunately, it seemed that yet another night passed without him having accomplished that goal.

But the reward anyway was quite lovely.

Slipping out of bed, Grell found it hidden in his closet, cleaned of the blood from the previous night, neatly leaned up behind his clothes. It was a relief to see it there and know that he was no longer as useless as he previously felt. Knives were lovely, but a chainsaw? That was bliss.

Closing the doors, he pulled his hair back into a ponytail, slipped his real glasses into his waistband and then wore the rounded pair. The nurse came to gather him a moment later and then he trailed her until they reached the Sun Room. Apparently she thought it would be a bad idea to allow him into the Chapel. Talking with God for normal patients was one thing, but for someone who thought he was a god? Apparently not so.

Taking his time to pick his way across the room, he found a familiar face and eased over to the man's reposed form. It seemed he was doing well, other than the injuries. Clearing his throat, Grell tried to remember what character he used with this particular patient and recalled that he was merely himself around him. "Sleeping already? Is that part of the vagabond life?"

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Zombies with familiar faces -- or where they even zombies at all now? Yuffie couldn't tell, didn't have time to check; all she could do was keep on living, keep on killing them. Or may that was -- She looked around, found herself in the Sun Room, shuriken in hand, moogle cloak -- Being used all over again, but she couldn't stop; it was them who had to, had to turn around and go back. The snap of bones was drumming out a symphony in the back of her mind, trickling through her like blood -- The smell and sight of explosions now, the rush of air as she dropped into battle; it was almost desperate, this plan, but they had to punch through, had to win, they just had to -- Mako, she'd never get used to the smell of it, but Weiss was right there and now was their chance, her and Vince's -- No, too late, there was the darkness; it caught her, and she hung helpless until--

-- "Good morning, blah blah blah blah Landel's Institu--"

Yuffie opened her eyes slowly, breath coming in harsh, shallow pants.

Disorientation made her head spin in dizzy circles, until she realized that she was hanging upside down over the side of the bed, tangled in blankets. Her fingers brushed the floor, brushed the handle of a chef's knife. Where had that come from? Where was-- Oh. Yuffie squeezed her eyes shut, grabbed the knife and clutched it close to her chest once she'd righted herself. Man. W-What a nightmare, she thought. So much had happened last night; Kadaj, the zombies, Homura being a massive prick… She hadn't had time to reminisce, hadn't been able to really…

Maybe it wasn't healthy, drowning that night out by slaughtering monsters, by swapping one nightmare for another, more familiar one. But it'd worked. That's what counted.

The moment didn't last. With a wordless grumph of frustration, Yuffie wriggled out of the knotted mess she'd wound herself into. How the hell had she gotten like that without waking herself up? There was no time to straighten it out, though, even if she'd felt like it. Which she didn't. At all. The nurses couldn't see her with the knife, and they'd be coming along any second now -- just in time, she slipped it in amongst the spare shirts in her closet and slunk back to the bed.

The door sprang open, admitting the Plucky the Longsuffering Nurse. "Good morning, Hanna!" She greeted, before casting a speculative eye at the mass of tangled bed sheets. "Oh, my. Did you have a restless night?"

"Yeah, I dreamed that a talking cabbage had stolen my heart and was running amok through a field of daffodils. All the daffodils had Landel's face, and they were singing about paperwork. What was up with that intercom announcement?"

"Never you mind that, dear," Plucky said, with an indulgent smile. "You've always been an early riser, but we don't want to make ourselves late by dawdling, do we? I was thinking that you might spend a nice, quiet shift in the Sun Room."

Yuffie's reply was cheerful, "I'd rather spend a nice, quiet shift in a blender."

Unfortunately for the ninja, escaping her fate proved to be pretty much impossible. She'd barely had time to grab her journal before Plucky was leading her away. The nightmare was still fresh in her mind, dogging every step she took, making her head feel heavy and light all at once; She covered her disquiet with a stream of annoying, aimless babble about her made up dream. What about last night? Were the rest of her party okay? What about Kenshin, and the Turks, and all the others she was coming to know?

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

She gave Plucky the slip as soon as they'd reached the Sun Room, and immediately made a beeline for the bulletin. It looked like it was gonna be a busy day already; the board was saturated with concerned notes, and peppered with other tidbits of information. She scanned through it all, tacking up her own message and a reply here and there. There… that'd have to do for now. And if people didn't reply, she'd just have to follow through on her promise-threat to hunt 'em down.

Shaking her head, Yuffie moved a few feet to the left so that she could sit with her back comfortably against the wall. She brought her knees up to her chest, rested her journal on them, and started translating her notes from Wutaian to something that Lelouch'd be able to understand. Short of jumping up onto a table and belting out a drinking song she'd learned from Cid, work was the only distraction she could think of.

[Closed to Lulu.]

[lawful_perfect]

Once again, von Karma opened his eyes to find himself suddenly back in bed, this time awakened by an odd mechanical voice over the intercom system. The last thing he remembered, after collecting a small number of items from the janitor's closet, was the bizarre transmission over the radio. It had sounded as though the Head Lunatic had succumbed to his very own folly, but the prosecutor doubted that it could have happened that easily. At least, without hard, decisive evidence of this, it was too much to hope for.

Hard, decisive evidence. He had received quite a striking dose of that, he realized ruefully as he sat up in bed, his shoulder searing in pain. von Karma stifled a groan as he turned his head to look at the fresh, sterile new dressing that had replaced the crude one created from paper towels and duct tape. The pungent stench of iodine emanated from it. Still, he could tell that it was infected; it felt unnaturally warm and swollen. It would likely take at least a few days to heal completely, now that treatment had been commenced.

He looked over at his roommate, who was still asleep. The prosecutor shook his head. Such indolence. Either that, or the man had taken very ill. If the latter was the case, von Karma hoped that it wasn't contagious; now that he thought about it, he wasn't feeling very well himself. Most likely, this was due to the infected bite wound, but if his condition did not improve soon, he would speak to the nurses about quarantining his apparently sickly roommate.

His return to bed had been just as abrupt as it had been in the middle of the night last night, as well as the previous night. Had the items he gathered made it in here, also? Quietly, he stepped out of bed, feeling a slight wave of dizziness and a brief chill as he did so. The older man took a moment to wait to regain his equilibrium, then went to his desk and unlocked it. His patient chart was still in there, he discovered in relief. Some of the smaller items he had taken last night were also in there, such as the extra batteries and flashlights, the duct tape, the box cutter, and three extension cords. Good.

Quickly, he took out his journal and a pen, locked the desk drawer, then went to the closet to see whether the tool kit, the mop, and the rest of the items were there. They were. Excellent. Unfortunately, sliding closet doors were impossible to lock. Hopefully, neither his roommate nor the staff would disturb any of it. In time, he would have to find a way to shear off the head of the mop so that it would be suitable as a true walking stick (not to mention that, quite frankly, he felt ridiculous over the prospect of using a mop as a makeshift cane), but for now, it would have to do.

[lawful_perfect]

Just as he closed the closet door, his blasted nurse barged in, the same saccharine smile plastered over her face as always. "Mr. Fuchs! What are you doing out of bed already? Shoo!" She waved him back to the bed. "Get back in there! You need your rest after the long day you had yesterday. And what did we tell you about taking it easy? You tore open your incision site, and now it's all infected!" she said condescendingly, waving a finger at him, forcing a strong, bitter dose of his own medicine down his throat, as it were.

Instead of following her order, he just glared at her for a moment, his arms folded in irritation. While he felt as though he could indeed use another few hours of rest, he suddenly recalled the meeting he had arranged this morning with his daughter. Injury or no, he couldn't afford to stand her up, lest he appear even more suspicious to her than he already did. Finally, he spoke. "Nurse. I would strongly prefer to rest in the Sun Room instead of in here. Is there any reason that you would forbid me to do so?"

She seemed somewhat taken aback, though her cloyingly cheerful expression remained. "Well, of course not. Besides, I suppose the sunshine will do you some good. You look so pale! All right, come on now. Follow me!"

She led him to the large room bearing the high glass ceilings, and seated him in an unoccupied couch. "Oh my, are you cold? Here, better use these blankets to keep the chill out!" Before he could protest, she draped one over his shoulders and one on his lap. Very well. At least the one over his shoulders would hide the dressed wound much better. He would rather not allow Franziska to find out what had truly happened to him last night, lest she add him to her endless list of "foolish fools." It was bad enough that that frizzy-haired bumpkin journalist had called him a fool; the last thing he needed was for his own flesh and blood, whom he had raised to look up to him, to call him the same thing.

Grasping his journal, he patiently awaited his daughter's arrival. In spite of the knowledge that she could take care of herself, he wondered for a moment how well she had fared through the disturbingly bizarre perils of the previous night.

[Closed to Franziska, at least for now]

[no-side-effects.livejournal.com]

[Free, no limit]

It seemed that the institute was just full of surprises today. While he was tempted to head to the Chapel out of nostalgia Wesker decided the sun room was a better choice. The last time he had been in there, it had been to see the head doctor give a speech. Now it seemed he'd been replaced by something similar to the Red Queen that had mostly run the Umbrella Facility in East Asia.

First zombies, now this. It gave Wesker quite a lot to contemplate, but this did fit in with his picture. The person running the lab was rarely the person at the top, although until now it had seemed this was a self-contained facility. A larger organization would support the transformation of the town. Control of the locals was a good tactic, even if Umbrella had taken the same route. Not everything they had done was mistake.

Sitting in the Sun Room he'd be able to better monitor the exchange of information across the bulletin board. It was possible someone knew what was going on, or at least knew more than he did, and Wesker planned to find out.

[rely-upon.livejournal.com]

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/690543.html?view=56433519#t56433519)]

Sherry's nurse, who still insisted on calling her "Aggie" much to the young girl's displeasure, lead her into the Sun Room and told her to have fun and meet people. Sherry frowned deeply; she didn't really like people, especially strangers. Claire and Leon had been the exception to that rule, of course. Not like that creepy Chief Irons with his animal collection. Still, she passed behind an older man and stopped. She knew that man!

She really did! It had been a long time since she'd seen him of course; she been very young, and her parents were busy with work a lot more than anyone liked, so... Sherry hoped she wasn't wrong, and took a deep breath before addressing him. Even now, he still kind of scared her.

"Uncle Albert?"

[godforsaken]

It was a small moment of bliss when Sync finally awoke, completely unaware of his aching body for those few fleeting seconds. His mind was hazed with exhaustion, staring listlessly up at ceiling while his senses continued to float in and out of reality.

And yet this bliss wasn't meant to last. Already a dull pain began to seep into his joints, squeezing his muscles with a merciless grip. It felt like months since he'd experienced a pain like this, a steady pulsing that traveled throughout his entire body. However, it was a familiar feeling nonetheless, and in the end he tiredly embraced it. Yet it only then that he realized where he was, but before he could fully comprehend the situation the intercom interrupted his thoughts.

Sync couldn't help but groan at his forming headache, rolling onto his side while he listened to the bizarre announcement.

Federal training...?

The voice itself sounded emotionless, a stark contrast to the Head Doctor, but in the end he shrugged it off. There were more important things on his mind at the moment, like whether or not last night was real or just a figment of his imagination. The pain radiating from his body may have been a hint, but it was only until he looked down at what he was holding did he believe any of this to be real.

In his hands lay his spare pair of oyster gloves and a spice bottle, and in a flash Sync remembered everything. It was these two things that proved that last night existed, along with the various bandages wrapped around his wrists and ankles. His knuckles were also heavily wrapped, but he paid no further mind to his injuries when the doorknob to his room suddenly twisted. Sync immediately stuffed the items under the bed, looking up just as his nurse stepped into the room.

"Good morning, Stephen. Would you like to go to the Chapel?"

The Chapel had been out of the question. Even now the God-General felt no urge to reconnect with his past life. Unlike the others, he hardly recognized Auldrant as his home.

So in the end Sync asked to stay at the Sun Room. Despite having not eaten for most of yesterday he was hardly hungry, but he figured his appetite would return once everything settled.

It was there that he rested comfortably in his seat near the bulletin board, quietly watching as various people walked up to the board to jot down their morning notes. It was a mundane ritual at best, but Sync couldn't deny that small tug of a smile whenever he caught the look of devastation on their faces. However, his face remained calm for the most part, and in the end he pulled out his notebook and pretended to write as to not gain any attention.

[Free, no limits.]

[number-crunch.livejournal.com]

CLANG! There went another zombie, tumbling down the pile! But then one that had been crawling up behind him grabbed his leg, its fingers digging right into the wound and pain shot through his body like electricity through an NaCl ion solution and then-

And then he woke up.

Minamimoto's eyes snapped open, his hands still clutching the dirty shovel, spattered with dried blood despite the fact that he was dressed in the institute grays once more and tucked into the bed. Sitting bolt upright, he glanced around paranoidly for any sign of the necropascals that had almost gotten him last night. With no sign of them, he set about hiding his new weapon, mostly ignoring the robotic announcement over the intercom.

"Well, good morning there, Shawn," said his nurse as she came barging in. As if they owned the place or something! Invading his area like an inbound vector. "I see you're feeling better. You've recovered from your fever, I take it?"

Sho gave her a decidedly unfriendly stare as he closed the closet door behind himself. Fever? Oh, right, he had been feeling kinda terrible yesterday, right at the end. His memories of it were hazy. He'd come down sick and they'd sedated him... why had they sedated him? One could see the gears spinning behind narrowed eyes as he reverse engineered his timeline back to...

"Joshua!" he spat suddenly. That was right, the Composer was here! Gritting his teeth angrily at the memory, Sho rushed out of the room at just a low enough velocity to merely concern the nurse, not cause her enough alarm to try to stop him. Stomping rapidly down the hallways with the nurse trailing behind, he finally came out into the Sun Room, his head swinging back and forth as he tried to spy the little gray yoctogram.

Where was he? After a few minutes, the mathematician concluded he wasn't in the room. Tch, figures. Grunting his disappointment, Sho headed over to the bulletin board to update his data and lodge a complaint. Seriously, fire zombies? What the factor, Landel.

Turning back from the board, he saw a patient sitting not far away avert his eyes quickly, as if he had been making a covert glance this way. And he was smirking like a smug little sinusoid. It was only there for a moment, maybe it hadn't been there at all, but nothing could escape the Reaper's genius observational skills. And no one smirked at Sho like that.

"What are you grinning about?" asked the irately irrational Reaper, stomping over to where the green haired youth was seated.

[mitase.livejournal.com]

One minute it was darkness and chaos and the pervading reek of ambulatory, rotting death, and the sinking awareness that he was on his own and in some very, very serious trouble - and then the next, Hanatarou was opening his eyes on his uncomfortably familiar room back at the Institute.

He blinked several times up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the transition, then gave up on that and just sat up again. As he did he noticed the addition of bandages on his scraped-up hands and...yes, over the cuts on his legs as well. Remembering how he got those made him shudder with revulsion, and the nurse entering just then mistook it for him shivering with cold.

In the face of the woman's concerned fussing over him the healer all but wilted, only nodding wide-eyed as she led him to the Sun Room with claims that he could warm up there. Or something. He wasn't really listening, and only found an empty spot on one of the sofas where he could curl up and try his very best not to think about the night before and the possibility that something like that might happen again.

[free for the taking, but handle with care]

[liveforthispart.livejournal.com]

[:D ?]

This was... getting weird. Well. Weirder. First there was fog and blood, then there was a town full of zombies. Kanji wasn't sure what the hell to expect next. Honestly, this whole thing was pissing him off more and more every day, and frankly, he wasn't in the mood for playing along with this whole stupid thing. He didn't see why he had to put up with this. Why anyone did! This was such a load!

He tried questioning the hag when she came to wake him, but she just kept saying the same bullshit over and over. It looked like they were both getting frustrated, because she eventually looked over to one of the big gorilla guys to help escort him out of the room. Not like he was afraid of those pricks, but he could see the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere anyway. So Kanji shut his yap and tried not to lose his temper as they guided him down.

Refusing the offer to go to some chapel, they brought him to that big room with the bulletin board. At least it was someplace familiar. Now maybe he could try getting his head on straight about what the hell was going on. After checking the board real quick, he looked around for some spot to sit.

As he did, he noticed some guy curled up on one of the couches. To him, people didn't do that kind of stuff unless they were nauseous or in pain or something. And considering last night, both were really possible. Kanji still wasn't all that keen on the whole 'talking to random strangers' thing, but he wasn't about to ignore some poor guy just lying there.

After hesitating a sec, he headed over to where they guy was laying. "Hey," he said sharply, to catch his attention. "You a'right?"

[whos-da-man.livejournal.com]

[SENPAI!]

Junpei was upset. No, he wasn't upset, he was freaking out. There had been zombies and then Mitsuru's presence had started making him drool like she was a prime cut of steak and his nurse wouldn't tell him anything about Chidori when he asked in the morning.

Junpei was freaking out.

In the Sun Room, the teen was pacing around the bulletin board, limping horribly in pain, but he didn't notice the pain. What he did notice is that Chidori wasn't in the room and he was waiting for her to come check the board. Normally, he would have gone to the cafeteria to look for her, but the idea of being around food right now turned his stomach. He wasn't sure if that was because of the way his senpai had smelled the night before or the fact that he might have tried to eat Mitsuru has she gotten any closer.

He looked around the room almost feverishly. Where was Chidori?!

[fourtharcana.livejournal.com]

Akihiko completely ignored his nurse on the way into the Sun Room. Anything she was going to say about what happened last night was bullshit anyway, so why bother listening? He didn't see any reason at all to do that.

What he did want to do was march up to the bulletin and ask S.E.E.S. to report in, but he got distracted by a very familiar face limping in its general direction. Well, at least Iori was alive, though it was clear that something had happened - and he didn't know if he bought that whole thing with the sprained ankle or not.

"Iori, what's wrong?," the senior asked, putting a hand on the junior's shoulder. The answer was more than likely obvious, but he wasn't going to make any assumptions.

[never-learns.livejournal.com]

Zombies. There had been fucking zomies in the fucking town and Yohji hadn't thought that things could get any worse but there had been a fucking zombie apocalpyse! There really were no words strong enough to get over the point that things had just managed to get infinitely worse than even the Institute normally was. And there were visitors today and he was half longing for and half dreading another visit from Cliff. What could he even say to the man? 'Oh yeah, and last night the dead rose from their graves and tried to eat us.' Yeah, Yohji wouldn't have believed that if he hadn't lived through it.

He really hated his life sometimes. Most of the time. The sex was good, and so was the cuddling, but beyond that, he had better be racking up some damn good karma in return for what he'd been put through recently.

With this in mind, when the nurses dragged him into the Sun Room, he found the first available free couch, lay down and tried to fall asleep.

[Free!]

[k4t4str0ph4l.livejournal.com]

Yes, the nurses had definitely been prepared for him this time. They'd moved to restrain him almost as soon as they'd entered the room; as it was, Schuldig's speed had allowed him to slip past the orderlies and get his fingers around the throat of the nurse accompanying them before they'd caught up with him. After that, things got blurry; all he knew for sure was that he'd probably been given a particularly high dose of tranquilizers, and then shunted off to the sun room. He wasn't particularly paying attention, but no other room could be quite so bright, which wasn't doing much for his headache or his drugged state.

Unfortunately, the couch he gravitated to was occupied.

"Move," he muttered. "I need that more than you."

[i-dont-paint.livejournal.com]

Tony woke with the scent of accelerant still in his nostrils, skin tight from the memory of heat, and throbbing where bony claws had dug in deep furrows. Something bit into his hip, and he rolled onto his side, reaching in bafflement for the boxy object he realized after a moment was a small screwdriver kit. He jerked upright with a wince, jolted out of his groggy half-slumber, but no other evidence of the night before remained in the room. Smart, he admitted, but frustrating.

He grimaced through the morning announcements, reminded uncomfortably of JARVIS, and unable to help a mental critique of the work of whoever had done the automated intercom system. He was thus distracted when the nurse entered to usher him on about his morning, seemingly unperturbed by the break from the usual routine.

Tony negotiated a stop in the Sun Room, pleading lack of hunger, and frowning in almost-maternal displeasure, the nurse left him to his own devices near the message board. He made a beeline for it, and was almost surprised to feel the knot of tension in his shoulders loosen as he spotted familiar handwriting amongst the morning's call for sound offs.

From what he could discern, no one had quite yet worked out a working hypothesis regarding what had gone on the night before, but the discussions, even so early in the day, were interesting enough to snag his attention. And since the alternative seemed to be recycling the horrific scenes of shambling corpses, he was willing enough to take the distraction.

[thirdboywonder.livejournal.com]

Tim woke up covered in sweat. Last night was...wait, when had last night ended? They were in town, Alfred was there, and the blond man with the sunglasses (even though it was the middle of the freaking night), and zombies.

And lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

Right.

He shook his head to clear it, then climbed out of bed. This was...the institute. Landel's. In New Jersey, but not the correct New Jersey. This was the institute where they were apparently very near to a town that looked like a Michael Jackson music video will less music and more terror in the middle of the night. The institute that had made Bart Allen act like a terrified emo kid somehow. The institute that took away Kryptonian powers, gave everyone fake names except for him, unleashed monsters at night, and didn't medicate his patients.

All things considered, he'd rather have the zombies.

He looked in the closet, feeling curious. The closet rod was still there, laying against the wall instead of hanging up, from when he and Raphael had gotten it loose. But next to it was the jacket he'd been wearing in the town last night - and the utility belt he'd gotten from the hardware store.

"What the hell..."

He'd barely gotten the closet door shut when the actual door opened.

"Oh, good, you're awake, Timothy! Come along, time for brunch!"

The thought of food sickened him, and he begged off. The nurse seemed genuinely concerned for him (oh, and wasn't that just her job, didn't she just do it so well), but she eventually led him off to the Sun Room instead of anywhere else.

He waited until she left again to make his way over to the bulletin board. There was someone using the codename "Captain Kirk," which vaguely amused him. Of course, it had to be a codename, right? He really wasn't sure he wanted to think about it in terms of Captain Kirk being a real person, so he left it alone. There were a few other things, though nothing of real interest. He left his own note, very short, and turned away.

There was a man that he didn't recognize standing nearby, apparently also interested in the bulletin board. He wondered if the man had been in the town last night.

"Morning," he said, trying to sound friendly enough. He had no idea if he actually succeeded.

[notachick.livejournal.com]

The night had ended too abruptly. One moment he was on a roof, the next he was in his bed. The sling was gone from his back, leaving him with a disorientated feeling and the tightness in his chest. With the sudden drop in adrenaline, he couldn't stop it either. Rolling to the side, Okita pressed his face into the pillow and tried his best to muffle the sounds. He felt tired today, worse than yesterday and this was hardly helping. At least he wasn't bleeding yet, as the white pillow thankfully indicated. He had a little bit more time. Just a bit.

Sitting up in bed, he checked to make sure he hadn't woken Guy up and then slipped out of bed, checking beneath it. As he expected, his sword and his sling were there. The sling still had the knives in it and the packet of cigarettes, slightly crushed thanks to the night's activities, but otherwise none the worse for wear. Slipping a little over half of the white sticks out, Okita wrapped them in a piece of paper from his journal and slipped them into his waistband. The rest of the package was curled up and set into his pants pocket.

A moment later his nurse came and took him, not to the Chapel as he expected, but to the Sun Room. "A bit of warm sun might do you some good," she said before leaving Okita on a couch with a handkerchief and a blanket. He quickly discarded the blanket, using it instead as a pillow behind his back and then hid the handkerchief away. There was no way he'd use that, or let anyone see him holding it. Even if today seemed like it wasn't going to be a 'good' day, he didn't have to admit it.

Leaning back on the couch, Okita stared up at the skylight and tried to reconcile the night with the day, and choke back the worry rising in him for the people he still couldn't find on the bulletin.

[Free! Limit: any]

[opposingheaven.livejournal.com]

It was a rather more solemn Kenren than normal who entered the Sun Room that morning. He'd woken with the sutra clutched in his hands and in the light of day he could see it better and it made him sick. Not just any sutra. Of course a Sanzo priest wouldn't carry around any sutra. Fuck. What was he supposed to do with the thing? He wasn't a priest. He was a god who didn't believe in anything.

He couldn't get over the impression that his hair should have been red this morning.

He had no appetite, and his expression was drawn and tired and sad as he approached Okita. "I'm glad to see that you're in one piece," he said, giving the other man a shadow of his usual grin.

[oftemptation.livejournal.com]

Endrance was completely silent on the walk from his room to the Sun Room, too lost in his own thoughts to manage a nod or even look up from the floor. What happened last night was my fault... The thought played in his head like a recording on an infinite loop. It didn't matter that the question he'd immediately posted to the bulletin had been answered and that everyone was at least still alive. It could have been far worse, and he knew it.

He laid down on one of the couches in the Sun Room and stared up at the ceiling. Why...why was this happening? And more importantly...what else was going to happen? He hadn't spent a lot of time outside in the real world over the past few years, but right then, what he wanted was to be able to look out his bedroom window and see the ocean, and perhaps take just a few steps outside to breathe in its scent. He wanted the familiarity of home, and more importantly...

...those thoughts were interrupted by something small jumping onto the couch. "Of course," he said, vision blurring with tears. "Why can't you leave me...especially right now? Please..."

[one very emo Endrance free to a good home.]

[thecamellia.livejournal.com]

It was possible to be soul-tired and yet physically wound up all at the same time, because that was the state Tsubaki was in. Once again, waking up was a disorienting fight between where she was and where she’d been, which was trying to escape hordes of the undead with Honey and Takashi.

She felt awful when she crawled out of bed and underwent the morning routines. Like someone had attached an anvil to the ball of worry she’d been carrying around in her stomach since she’d arrived.

And she hadn’t even seen the bulletin board yet.

Tsubaki was only more put out by the strange intercom announcement that came on throughout the building--at first, she wasn’t sure it was meant for them, and by the time it’d finished, that anvil felt it’d spawned another little anvil. Nothing made any sense at all! But more importantly, she didn’t even know how everyone was, if they were hurt, or… The threat had been worse than anything so far, in her opinion…

She couldn’t manage to scrounge up the energy to think much on where she wanted to go for the morning--the fact that the staff always acted like everything was okay only got harder and harder to stand--and just agreed with her nurse’s suggestion to start out in the Sun Room, and “figure out what to do after she woke up a little more!” It took everything Tsubaki had not to let her already struggling smile drop completely, and reveal everything that was behind it. But the woman never stayed very long, so the girl was able to get herself together before she stepped through the doorway into the lounge.

The usual crowd in front of the bulletin board was bigger than usual… Probably people were trying to get in touch with their friends and acquaintances, or just to see if there was any word of them, like she’d been planning. In fact, it was big enough that Tsubaki hesitated on the outskirts, tall enough to be able to see over most of the others’ heads, but too far from the board to be able to read anything. After a few moments, she backed off uncertainly, watching the bulletin as though expecting the messages to jump out after her. She could sit for a while and wait; hopefully she’d spot the people she was looking for in person. The nurses would be out and about to collect everyone like it were a normal day, right?

Lost. That’s how she felt when she turned around to scan the room, though in turn, only more effort went into exuding a composed mien. But she was momentarily distracted from her own worries at what she saw--on that couch there, was that person crying? And that was enough for her. Approaching hesitantly, Tsubaki’s tone was soft and quiet when she asked, “Excuse me... are you all right?”

[toobothersome.livejournal.com]

There was not a single person from his home that Shikamaru wanted to see. In fact, the intensity with which he didn't want to see any of them was impressive for the normally laid-back boy, and he didn't bother masking his expression, which fell somewhere between deep thought, concern, and dread. There was no way this could end well. Even the people he missed back home (and if he allowed himself to consider it, he missed a lot of people) didn't have a place in this world, and he didn't want them there. He didn't want to think about them.

He'd assumed his usual position on the sun room sofa, one arm crooked behind his head as he stared past the glass to the fast-moving clouds, pale grey and wispy, foretelling a light and indecisive rain sometime within the hour. It wasn't hard to know that stuff, with enough practice. The usual orange cat hadn't seemed interested in company but he scooped it up anyway, and after a few seconds of struggling, the kitten's laziness won out over his own and it flopped, defeated, across his stomach. It was a stupid hassle, a pain in the ass, fighting a cat for no good reason, and he sucked the scratch he'd earned across the base of his thumb. Still, the warm and steady breathing felt nice.

He needed a way to get out of this. Faking sickness, maybe, faking an allergic reaction to breakfast. The more he thought about it, he actually did feel nauseous, and he swallowed hard as he closed his eyes. He'd made countless promises to be strong, but there was nothing weak about avoiding a situation where he was at such a clear disadvantage. The way the board was laid out, he had no choice but to play conservatively, and he was too smart to fall into such an obvious trap. He knew that. He had to be. The cat gave a yowl when he pulled it to himself a bit too firmly, and with a sharp swipe, it dashed off to hide beneath an armchair. Shikamaru cursed and wiped another shallow scratch against the hem of his grey shirt. Fine. Whatever. Goddamn cat. It wasn't like he wanted it around anyway.

[free, no limit]

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/691284.html?thread=56328020#t56328020)]

It was a shame that Shikamaru wasn't interested in speaking with others from his world, because he was about to have a couple join him unbidden. Sai wasn't dragging Sasuke over, but he might as well have been. The former had set up this unplanned meeting himself, which wasn't too usual a thing. "Shikamaru-san," he greeted with the usual smile, "I thought we should talk."

The other ninja was smart. He'd know why Sai wanted to have a little chat, and if he didn't then the ROOT member would have no issue with explaining it. He took a seat on the floor, leaving Sasuke room to grab a place on the chair if he wanted. (It would be easier for him with his current blindness.) Whether or not Shikamaru himself wanted to talk wasn't going to be an issue. Bringing Sasuke along would hopefully make it easier to get him to speak without complaint.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Spock awoke in his bed with an unusual sense of déjà vu that was uncommon among Vulcans. One moment he had been in one of the doctor's offices with Alkaid and Venom, listening to the grim scene that had been broadcasting throughout the facility; in the next moment, he was back in the cell he had first started from. The obvious question was how, although Spock presumed their captors achieved this in the same manner that they had abducted him from the Enterprise. After accomplishing such a feat, moving him across the building in such a way would not have been difficult.

Still curious was the automated message that had sounded upon his awakening. Judging from the message's contents, it had been designed for those who were not yet officially "patients" of the institute, but were rather considering them for some sort of "federal training sponsorship". Yet the nurse who came to greet him acted as if this was not the case.

"All right, Mr. Penn, I know you're new, but I promise it won't take you long to get situated," she cheerfully told him from the doorway.

"You are mistaken," he said as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, carefully eying the woman as he spoke. "I am called Spock, and I wish to request--"

"Let's just get you somewhere you can relax and--" she cut in with a smile.

"--an audience with the person who is in charge of this facility," Spock finished, raising his voice just enough to where he was speaking over the woman's interruption.

The nurse's smile never faded. "Oh, I'm afraid Dr. Landel is much too busy to meet with all of his patients individually, but you'll find there are plenty of interesting people to talk to once you leave your room."

By now, Spock had raised himself from the bed and approached her -- he was much taller than she was, and yet she did not appear to be armed. It would not have been difficult to perform a nerve pinch to render her unconscious, but Spock decided not to do so for the time being. After all, even if he managed to overpower her, his uniform made him look far too conspicuous to wander around without an escort.

He would need to observe more of the institute and its inner workings before he made such an attempt to escape from her.

Unaware -- or unafraid, perhaps -- of what he'd been considering, the nurse's happy expression brightened. "Shall we be going then?"

"Very well," Spock agreed after a moment, and she wasted no time in escorting him from his room and down the hallway. As they walked, the nurse reminded him that he had a choice of where to go this morning. Spock was more than willing to forgo receiving food from their captors in favor of investigating the current situation, so he didn't give "brunch" any serious consideration. Recalling the sun room hall he had passed with Alkaid the night before, Spock requested to go there.

Apparently he was among the first to arrive -- or perhaps there simply weren't many "patients" to begin with. Even after looking into the dining hall from where he was, the number of patients tallied to be significantly smaller than the estimate Alkaid had given him. He had yet to see the chapel, true, but he supposed the situation in there was likely a similar one.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

The building had been largely empty last night, and it was possible Alkaid had succumbed to the disease that had been spreading across her body. There may have been others like her, which could have reduced the overall population. As for Venom, it was more likely he had been transferred back to his cell like Spock had, but he couldn't say for certain.

Spock had not yet started experiencing the same symptoms as Alkaid, which indicated that she was either somehow unable to pass the disease along, or his body had managed to fight off the pathogens. Either way, he realized he was fortunate to be able to conduct his investigations without experiencing such cellular decomposition.

After taking a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings, Spock considered his options. There were several people in the sun room currently -- many already appeared to be engaged in conversation, although there were also some who were sitting alone.

Ultimately, Spock chose a seat on one of the couches for himself and, clasping his hands between his knees, patiently began observing the area. There would be an opportunity to question others at a later time; for now, there was much to learn simply by studying the movements and mannerisms of the patients and staff.

[Free.]

[razmaspaz.livejournal.com]

"Nyergh, ugh, bunnies, ulp, nngrr, SAUSAGE!" Raz’s eyes flew wide open, his heart still pounding wildly against his tiny ribcage from the nightmare he just had.

Wait a minute, he thought. That was no nightmare, that was definitely real. By now, he’d entered so many minds, he could easily tell the difference, and that meaty, circusy, twisted father-and-son reunion thing was NOT a dream!

While having this internal debate, Raz made a startling realization: "Where’d my hat go?" He tried to feel on his head his favorite leather cap, but instead he felt really gross, dandruff-packed hair that seriously needed a wash. His other hand patted his chest, finding a thin cotton shirt instead of the wool sweater that he brought to the camp. With all this new information, the ever-so-observant Raz finally took notice of his surroundings: he was now laying on a bed in a white and sterilized room. On the other side of the room was another bed, but it was currently unoccupied. "Where am I?" he wondered aloud as he sat up, and then started to panic. "Wait, was I... hospitalized?!"

Raz put his hands in front of him and stretched far enough to grab his heels. "But I feel fine," he said confusedly, and let go of his hold. The boy then inspected both arms and lifted his shirt to inspect his torso. "Not even a scratch," he observed.

All of a sudden, Raz's concerned frown flipped upside-down into a large grin. "Hey, I didn't get a scratch!" he exclaimed at this impressive achievement. "Man, am I GOOD or- okay, wait," Raz paused. He had to stop himself before he became too busy complimenting himself rather than assessing the situation at hand. "So if I’m not injured," he said, "where did all of my clothes go, and why am I in this disturbingly clean, sanitary-looking room?"

Only a second passed by before the door opened, making Raz jump a bit. A middle-aged woman in a white nurse uniform poked her head in with a smile. "Good morning, Greg! Did you sleep well?"

Raz stared at her, mouth agape and eyebrow raised. "Excuse me, did you just call me Greg?" he asked incredulously.

The nurse pouted and shook her head. "I've heard about this... Such a shame."

The boy stood up immediately. "Wait, heard about what?" Raz's voice became increasingly panicked. "What's going on?!" But before he knew it, the nurse came into the room and dragged him outside, all the while he demanded to know just where the hell he was. After some winding hallways and much protesting, the nurse brought him to a large, sunlit room, where many other people wearing the same stupid-looking shirt were walking about.

"Go ahead, Greg," the nurse cheerfully encouraged, "go make some friends!" She then promptly walked off, leaving Raz to wonder what to do next... and why that lady kept calling him Greg of all things.

[super-free!]

[dahliahasthorns.livejournal.com]

Pissed. That was only way to put it--Dahlia Hawthorne was pissed.

Not only did she have to deal with Sync all day and all night, not only did she have to deal with zombies trying to eat her, not only did she have to deal with cuts and scrapes and bruises all over her skin, or all that blood getting in her hair, or walking two to three miles to find a weapon and shelter, but now she was right back in the asylum, without her saw.

In its place was her lovely little knife bag, sans knives or blades or ANYTHING USEFUL..

She could have started screaming and ripping her hair out. She really could have.

How dare they- HOW. DARE. THEY. DO THIS TO HER. To put her through all that, then take it all away like it meant NOTHING?! That was it. That was IT. She didn't care who she had to con or squash to get her way out of here, but she was getting out. And, walking into the Sun Room, it looked like she found a new contestant for her game!

With Feenie and Mr. Attorney after her, she needed as much backup as she could have. This little twerp would do for now.

Dahlia walked toward the kid without the slightest hint of malice in either her voice or posture, back to looking like the purest, shining example of beauty the world had ever seen. She even looked... concerned. "Oh! Hello, little boy. What are you doing here...? It's dangerous! Please tell me you aren't a patient here too..." Psh, like she cared.

[ryuuzaki]

[from here]

The pretty nurse, the one who claimed her name was Carter, escorted L from the room, down a hall, past what looked like a nurse's station, and around a corner, a left turn. More corridor, and then another left turn into a large room.

The daylight streaming in through the skylight didn't seem to be false; to L, it looked like morning light. One small mystery solved. The room was well-populated with what appeared to be both staff and patients, although he was determined not to take this at face value. The patients might be part of the trick, if there was one.

Looking around the room, he saw comfortable, cream-colored seating, coffee tables, a large rug, and more interesting, a notice board on one wall, something he made a mental note to check out as soon as possible. For the moment, though, he decided to sit down on a sofa and make a decision about who to approach. Maybe, while he waited, someone might approach him instead.

It would be worth seeing what might happen.

[Free!]

[arc-wrench.livejournal.com]

A few chairs away, HK was getting bored. His smugness over the triumph of terrifying the nurse could only last so long. He needed someone to irritate.

This meatbag looked like a likely target. "Greeting: Good morning, meatbag! Observation: You have not been cataloged in my target files. Therefore, you are likely new here. Statement: I do hope they've started adding in meatbags that are more fun to the general population." They needed more assassins, bounty hunters, evil overlords and minions... this place was still a wretched hive of cleanliness and heroism!

[inviolentgrief.livejournal.com]

Jun awoke to silence, the kind that made him want to scream and run, the kind that oppressed and tormented in a completely menacing way. There was no one in the room, but he felt like someone was watching him, waiting for him to do something. He pressed his palms to his eyes, watching the colors dance behind his eyelids, hoping that the world would change around him when he re-opened his eyes, like waking up from a dream.

It didn’t. The feeling wouldn’t go away.

He looked around the room.

He shouldn’t remember why he felt so weird. He shouldn’t remember anything about his former life. But he did. They were supposed to have changed things for the better, supposed to have kept Maya alive, supposed to have erased that portion of history. The first two, he didn’t know about, but they definitely hadn’t erased anything . All of those days that he’d spent in the summer, playing among his friends were still with him. He could vividly remember every little detail, down to their final moments together; it felt like it had only happened a few minutes before.

“'Language is the source of misunderstandings.'” He mused out loud, wondering whether he’d misheard somehow, whether this was where he was actually supposed to be. It wouldn’t surprise him if Nyarlathotep had decided to mess with things, even though he’d gone away.

His only other option was to assume that something had gone very, very wrong. One of them hadn’t been thinking on the same wavelength as the others, perhaps himself, and that had stuck him in this place. He didn’t even know what ‘this place’ was, if that was any indication of the currently worsening state he was in.

And just as he realized that, the intercom came on. Straining his ears to listen, Jun hoped that it might shed some light on things; of course, it didn’t. He didn’t understand anything at all.

“Jonathan, you’re up!” A woman bustled into the room. She looked friendly, way too friendly for Jun to feel any more at comfort than he already did; she was no Maya, and there was no “‘Let’s Positive Thinking!’” here. Jonathan. No. Something was very, very wrong if she was calling him by another name. Changing one event that had happened after his birth wouldn’t have changed his name.

“I’m sorry, but where is this?” He tried to mask his inner confusion, speaking slowly and calmly. He didn’t particularly like the thought, not anymore, but if he needed to, he could probably use his Persona to get the information he wanted.

“You’re new here, at Landel’s institute. You must have bumped your head last night, Jonathan. Maybe you should let a Doctor look at you. ” There it was again.

“That’s not my name, there must be a mistake.” He tried a different angle. Maybe he simply wasn’t where he was supposed to be because they’d made a mistake, not him, though it didn’t explain how he remembered anything.

“Nonsense. Now, come on, let’s get you to the Sun Room so you can make some new friends.” She dragged him out of his room and down the hallway towards a large, sun-filled room. Many people were in there, crowding around a bulletin board; many of their faces were filled with worry or anguish, but he didn’t have much of a chance to look on a deeper level, because the nurse pulled him toward the corner and sat him down. “Talk to people.” She said sternly before walking off, leaving him there in a very confused state.

[free, free like the wind~]

[lighthearted]

Waking up in pain was pretty normal in a place like Landel's, but Sora wasn't used to this level of it. The burning at the back of his neck was enough that he quickly turned onto his side in bed once he was aware enough again to do so. One hand hovered over the wound, wanting to touch at it and feel for the damage -- but he was too scared to prod it when it already hurt so much.

The next thing he knew, a nurse had come in and warned him to leave the injury alone. He let his hand drop and then got out of the bed with the woman's help. She seemed genuinely worried about the way he'd hurt himself, but it was hard to take someone's sympathy when they were so clueless to the truth.

Sora didn't know much about religion, so he didn't usually go to the chapel, and seeing how today was a free choice day, he figured he would go and get something to eat when he was a little more awake and hopefully in less pain. That left the Sun Room, where he could check on people over the bulletin.

Once he put up a message asking after Demyx and the other patient, he looked for somewhere to rest and found an unfamiliar face sitting by himself. Curious, Sora moved over and took the closest seat. "Hey! You all right?" Sora was betting this guy was new, which meant he would probably need some help! An explanation would help him stop thinking about the pain, after all.

[per-ardua.livejournal.com]

Raine woke up as exhausted as if she'd only slept for an hour. Maybe she had. Or maybe she was just tired because her dreams had been filled with the same nightmare she'd just actually lived through and then some, meaning even what little sleep she got had been restless.

She had no doubt she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep if she tried, though, so she reluctantly got up. She didn't feel like eating just now (and having the choice to wait was nice, really) so she went to the Sun Room, hoping daylight would restore her the way sleeping hadn't. Curling up on a couch, she opened her latest book.

[[For Kratos.]]

[spandexorgtfo.livejournal.com]

For the first time in a while, Kratos woke up feeling somewhat grateful. The distinct lack of zombies in the institute made for a more comfortable atmosphere (which was comparable to calling Flanoir warmer than, say, space), especially since there was no incessant moaning.

He wanted to preserve some sense of quiet and so abandoned the idea of brunch in favor of the Sun Room. (Chapels were out of the question.) There were already plenty of people inside, but probably, he reasoned, much more were busy eating.

The nurse, despite his best efforts, steered him to an open seat next to a familiar someone and left telling him to make conversation. Usually he would brush her off, but for some reason today she was also stalling by the door and watching him in anticipation - and the last thing he wanted was to feel her eyes on him for who knew how many hours.

In the end Kratos gave in. "What are you reading?" He avoided looking at Raine directly.

[rectifies.livejournal.com]

Morning gave no time to verify the words. Before he could believe that, yes, the pain in the man's eyes was of no consequence, that the delayed movement and other signs were figments of his paranoia, the dining room vanished. Its occupants were nowhere to be found. In their place was his usual nurse, all smiles and teeth, waking him to yet another day in the hospital.

Cursing under his breath, Ken pushed the woman's arm aside. Today, his patience was sorely lacking. "Take me to the Sun Room," he muttered, before dropping into silence altogether.

The nurse, despite being a little surprised at his reaction, granted his request. Ken wasted no time positioning himself in front of the signature bulletin board, writing out the usual responses about well-being and whatnot. Phoenix and Edgeworth sounded okay, as well one of their other companions. For now, this knowledge was satisfactory.

But something was bugging the child. He had not seen a certain someone since their time at the burger place, and the detail worried him. He quickly tore a piece of paper from his notebook and began to write...

[Free. No limits.]

[degozaruyo.livejournal.com]

What on earth was a 'federal training sponsorship?'

Kenshin had no idea, but it sounded vaguely ominous. This morning's announcement was a complete break from the norm, which in this place tended to not be a good sign. At all.

Still, at least there didn't seem to be hordes of ravenous undead creatures crowding about this morning. That was certainly a step in the right direction. The rurouni stretched as he allowed himself to be conducted to the Sun Room (after conveniently disposing of the bread knife he seemed to have acquired); he hadn't been injured last night, beyond some cuts and bruises, but he was still fairly sore.

Kaoru didn't seem to be in the room yet. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't worried, that Kaoru had been with him every second of last night and that she would show up and berate him for some percieved slight, as usual. Still, he couldn't help it. After Sanosuke and Yahiko...

Speaking of Yahiko, there was a small boy nearby who looked to be about his age. Ten, not fifteen like the "future" Yahiko had been. He also looked rather unhappy.

"Are you all right?" Kenshin asked kindly as he approached. Well, no, he wouldn't be, not after last night. Kenshin decided to amend it with, "as well as you can be, after everything this place has thrown at us."

[sasuke-of-sound.livejournal.com]

The transition from fighting off hordes of the undead to being abruptly awake in a (by now quite familiar) bed was somewhat more startling than the usual shift from the reasonably quiet nighttime Institute to that of the daytime. Sasuke started into alertness at the (also by now very familiar) crackle of the intercom, nearly punching out at thin air before he managed to realise that he was back in Landel's already.

Damn it, he hadn't been able to find nearly as much information as he'd have liked in that town -- and it wasn't often they had an opportunity like that. Then again, if nothing else last night had definitely proved that travelling outside the Institute forced Sasuke to be a great deal more dependent than simply exploring the inside of it.

But that wasn't the only thing last night had proved. This place was keeping the bodies of the dead and had some way to animate them, commit gross disrespect (and who knew what else they might have culled from Itachi's body by now -- Sasuke should have disposed of it better when --). And the dead that the Institute controlled ...

Sasuke reached up to feel the bite. Definitely still there. Why was it always the neck? Was there some unwritten rule that anything with teeth to bite had to go for his neck, even his dead, reanimated brother?

Dead at Sasuke's hand -- the blood that Sasuke had spilled had spilled back on him in turn, the coldness of it like some kind of curse that he could still feel faintly. But there was no point focusing on the weakness of actually being disturbed by death and its aftermath; what kind of ninja would Sasuke be if he allowed it to get to him? (Never the kind that Itachi was, even in Landel's, even in death.) If he let achieving an important goal get in the way rather than using it to bolster his next stop forward? (Wherever that led.) If --

Sasuke shook his head sharply to clear the burgeoning cluster of thoughts out of the way, just in time to catch the tinny voice of what was clearly a recording greeting ... a visitor to the Institute? Certainly not new patients, if the intended addressee was only to witness what the patients went through. Federal training?

Before Sasuke could really work out what to make of it (or quite fight down a flash of revulsion, visceral memory invasive in ways he'd nearly forgotten it could be), his nurse entered the room. Cheerily, as if there had been no strangeness about the intercom announcement at all, she proceeded to hustle him out of the room and to the Sun Room, chastising him to try to relax so that his frown wouldn't stick permanently. Or something. What the hell did that even mean?

[for Sai]

[tsunagari.livejournal.com]

This was one of the more disorienting mornings Sai had experienced while in the Institute. One moment he was standing in the hardware store with his newly-acquired machete in hand, the next he was back in bed with not a zombie to be seen. The weapon, on the other hand, remained in his grip. With nothing better to do with it before his nurse arrived, he slid it under his mattress. On his pillow was his headband, sedative still tucked securely in the knot. He removed it and placed it gently in a drawer, wrapped in a smiley face shirt. Tonight he would give it to Sakura.

Despite dealing with the undead, the day before had been surprisingly productive.

He chose to be taken to the sun room that morning, as he had a couple notes to leave and he believed he was more likely to run into someone to match notes with there. Sure enough, he spotted both Sasuke and Shikamaru already present. It would be to everyone's benefit if they all had a chat together.

It was Sasuke he approached first, as he Shikamaru might be easier to converse with if he wasn't forced to move from where he was already comfortable. "Sasuke-kun," he addressed lightly.

[denied-future.livejournal.com]

So it seemed suddenly waking up in his room was, indeed, normal for this place. It was nice to know, in any case. Rey noticed that there was something off about the other side of the room--Sousuke had already woken up, it seemed--but was too groggy to pay it much attention. His mind was still going over the events of last night and this morning. The undead aside, what did they mean by 'federal training sponsorship?' Rey felt that he didn't know enough about this place, and so he decided to go to the Sun Room again today, to check out the bulletin board. At the very least, he could now say that he fully believed the other patients when they talked about monsters--either that or he was as insane as the nurses claimed him to be.

He copied down a few of the notes into his notebook, which he had taken with him. There was apparently a discussion going on about what had happened, but he stayed out of it. It was better to know before he spoke. Besides, another note caught his attention.

Sousuke was gone. Rey wasn't especially sad over this, as he'd only known him for one night. Neither was he the most sympathetic of people, so he simply replied with his acknowledgement and moved on. Loss was hardly new to him.

[Free, no limits]

[tender-cruelty.livejournal.com]

He'd only narrowly avoided getting sedated that morning and the nurse kept giving him dirty looks. Those scratched from his nails did look fairly deep but he wasn't exactly feeling guilty about causing them. He didn't want to be touched now. He half expected the flesh to start rotting off the bone as soon as it touched him. He ached all over, the bite from that damn zombie was bandaged but throbbing, and he thought he might have cracked some ribs. He had to stop getting thrown around like this.

He stumbled into the Sun Room, not much on his mind beyond finding somewhere to fall and possibly pass out. He found a seat and nodded to the person who was already there, glad that it was someone he sort of knew, or at least, had met and didn't need to ask questions about mobile suits.

"Morning," he said.

[remnantsofflame.livejournal.com]

Asch had no idea how he'd gotten back to the institute. He'd been with that man, they'd been trying to get to the housing developments, there were dead people coming to life or something...

And now here he was in a bed. Not his bed, just some bed in a hospital, in a room that looked like every other room. The only sign that anything was different was waiting under his pillow. He felt something hard under there, and when he moved the pillow, the kitchen shears were waiting there. They were attached again, back in one piece, but...

How had he gotten back here? Was the man he'd saved still alive and all right? He hoped so. He'd never forgive himself if something had happened to that guy. That guy wasn't going to fare very well against the living dead, or monsters, or anything of the sort. He tried to keep his hopes up, as best as he could. He wasn't really one for stupid things like hope, but if he'd made it back here somehow, then that guy probably had, as well. He hadn't caught his name, but hopefully he'd be able to find something out about him.

He stashed the shears in the closet with the pipes and the scalpel. The nurse came to collect him. He tuned her out as best as he could, though he almost bit through his tongue trying to keep quiet when she called him Luke. It was like they'd assigned him that name just to push his buttons. Her vapid smile didn't help the situation any.

She led him off to the Sun Room, smiling the whole way. He followed without complaint. Apparently his other choice was the Chapel, but he had no need for anything like that. He'd long since stopped believing in anything at all. The Score sure hadn't been worth anything. Van's ideals were twisted, but he agreed that the Score, and the reading and the worship of it, were things that had to be gotten rid of. Any kind of worship left a bad taste in his mouth just to think of, so the Sun Room was fine with him.

He checked the bulletin board. So the man he'd saved was alive, that was good. Someone obnoxious had left some note to him, probably one of the replica's friends. Typical.

He left his own short reply and wandered off to sit on a couch and think about the insanity that had taken place during the night - and how they'd gotten back here.

[Alfred]

[thebatbutler.livejournal.com]

The transition from fighting zombies, to waking up back at the institute was slightly disorienting, even it was a relief that the fight appeared to have ended. Alfred frowned as he got out of bed, thinking over the events of last night, and hoping that Timothy, and the man with the sunglasses, were all right as well. He turned around to see what had been poking him in the back when he'd woken up, pulling up his pillow to reveal the meatcleaver that he'd grabbed. It was still wrapped up and brand new, but Alfred had no use for it, at the moment, so he put the pillow back over it.

Then his nurse bustled into the room, cheerful and determined as she'd been the other times that Alfred had seen her. After she'd ensured that his slippers were secured on his feet, (and after a few exchanges of "Mr. Quartermain", "Pennyworth, ma'am.") Alfred was hustled out of his room and back into the Sunroom. This was where they'd taken him first thing the day before last, but it didn't make sense that they wouldn't feed their patients before allowing them to engage in "leisure" activities.

Before Alfred could question the woman about it, though, she was steering him over to an agitated-looking young man with long red hair.

"Here you are, Mr. Quartermain! Why don't you talk with Luke here? The two of you look like you could be great friends!" She beamed at him before hurrying off.

Alfred looked down at the teenager in front of him, finding himself confronted, once again, with an angry youth. And he had no idea if his company was welcome, or would be well received. He assessed the situation quickly, opting to sit on the couch with the young man, keeping a respectable distance.

"Good morning, young sir. I don't suppose that you would happen to know if zombie infestations are a normal occurrence around here? Or if one usually wakes up with a souvenir of such events hidden under their pillow?" Alfred raised an eyebrow in question.

[toxicspiderman]

The intercom, as it usually did, flared to life in a snap-crackle-pop that would do any breakfast-cereal commercial proud. It had little visible effect on Sangamon Taylor, who was lying in bed trying to pretend (to what audience was unclear) that he was still asleep. The theory was this: if he was still asleep, this was still all a dream, and he would eventually wake up in his overpriced temporary apartment, ready for another boring day at the office.

The sing-song voice that followed was a deviation from the normal routine. At this point Sangamon rolled over, grabbed his pillow, and crammed it over both ears. It was entirely ineffectual at stopping sound waves, and did not help him in his effort to appear somnolent.

When his nurse arrived, heels clicking in directly on those of the broadcast, he tossed the pillow at her.

"Catch. So what's with the Zork meets fembot HAL 9000 routine? More bullshit, or does someone up there really believe all this crap?"

The nurse, who had taken very little time to peg Sangamon (correctly) as a troublemaker but one unlikely to resort to violence in these situations, returned the pillow to the bed and opened then door. "I'm afraid I can't answer that, Paul. Why don't you come down to breakfast and see if some breakfast doesn't make you feel better?"

S.T. shrugged. It meant she knew nothing. No, more than that. It meant she found nothing out-of-the-ordinary in it. Whether that was a net plus or not he'd have to wait and see.

When he got down to the Sun Room, both it and the cafeteria beyond were already crowded. He devoted a few minutes to the closest facsimile of the morning news this place had to offer -- one paltry bulletin board -- and then contemplated food. He might have expected the smell of bacon should have been disturbing after spending half a night with ex-human flesh clinging to his t-shirt, but it wasn't. Not in the slightest.

As he was leaving, a flash of bubblegum-pink hair caught his eye -- one of the girls he'd helped hotwire a car the night before had just walked in. She looked younger in the harsh institutional light of day. He considered the fact that he might have been a little hasty in assuming she should know her way around a car; if she didn't have a license, not being an adolescent gearhead was an acceptable excuse.

"Hey!" He waved. "Utena, right? Everything go okay last night."

[for Utena, ask if you want to jump in]

[revolutionise]

The night had ended for Utena and Juri en route to Kitchin' Fixins'. One moment, Utena had been watching their car plow through more zombies, and the next she found herself waking up in her bed. Thankfully, the cold iron of the poker in her hand remained, and the baby pink of her outfit from the previous day had finally been replaced with the usual grey. Never thought I'd be glad to wake up in this bed, Utena though with a bit of a grimace. The only thing that kept her from being completely relieved was the absence of Landel's usual morning greeting, replaced instead by a strange automated voice message. That's gotta have something to do with why we were all left behind last night, she thought, narrowing her eyes up at the intercom speaker.

After hiding the poker in her closet, a nurse arrived and asked her about joining other patients in the chapel; Utena politely declined the offer. While Utena's parents had ostensibly been Christian (enough so to have a Christian funeral, at least), any religious leanings she may or may not have had before their deaths had been shattered by her grief, then completely forgotten in the birth of her desire to become a prince. Instead, she took her journal in hand and opted to stay in the Sun Room, much more interested in checking out what the other patients had to say about the previous night.

The bulletin board was a flurry of messages, and Utena did her best to skim through as many as possible, jotting down any notes she thought might help her to make sense of things. In addition to the various goings-on in Doyleton, she also read of an ominous broadcast inside the institute before their awakening. Reading the transcript provided by one Inspector Lunge in particular sent chills down her back. Just what the hell is going on right now? Besides the usual craziness, anyway, she thought with widened eyes.

Her reading was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice. Utena waved back, trying to smile at Sangamon despite the confusion she was feeling. "Hi. You're Mr. Taylor?" she asked, hoping she had gotten the man's name right (she knew she had no clue if she had his first name right or not). "If you count surviving as 'okay', then yeah, we did fine. We didn't get far after getting out onto the street, though. The night ended before we could get somewhere else to stock up on more weapons." Her smile became a bit easier as she added, "Either way, thanks for the help. If you ever need the favour returned, just ask."