damned_institute | Day 52: Game Room

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Day 52: Game Room

Lunch had taken his mind from his worries, if only for a few minutes. But after the intercom sounded and the nurses began leading patients onto the next activity, one look at the bulletin board brought everything back in full force. No replies from Ashton, Dias or Dad. By now Claude felt like he was practically counting down until the end of the day, when he was going to have to finally grapple with the real possibility that most of his friends from before Landel's, as well as his own father, had fallen victim to the institute.

And now he was going to have to deal with his mother being here on top of that. It didn't seem like a coincidence that she'd show up right when his father's whereabouts were so up in the air. But what did it mean? Why couldn't Landel leave his family out of this?

Normally, the announcement about new video games would have made him perk up, but his eyebrows only knit together with concern as his nurse led him into the game room. That didn't seem to stop her from trying to get him to unwind, though.

"Oh, come now, Thomas, you've worn that expression for most of the day!" she told him with a frown. "Why don't you have a bit of fun now that your eyes are all better? I'm sure you could use it."

The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his "sleep studies", he darkly thought to himself. But before he could protest, his nurse had sat him down in front of one of the television screens. There was an old gaming console, one Claude had never seen before, and he glanced at her with a confused expression. "Go on," she encouraged as she placed one of the controllers in his hands. "I know how much you enjoy these kinds of things. Someone will come play with you soon, too, I'm sure. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He didn't have time to answer her, because she'd soon bustled off to tend to some of the other patients. Claude watched her leave with a sigh. He realized the daytime staff meant well, which made knowing what they turned into at night even worse to think about. But now he was just being negative for the sake of it, wasn't he?

Taking in a small breath, he reached over to the console and turned it on. As long as he was waiting for some kind of answer from the bulletin, there probably wasn't much he could do except pass the time. Claude watched the title screen appear on the television, his expression growing more curious in spite of himself. Super Mario Bros....

[For Prussia!]

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"Jim," he said automatically. There was a smile on Kirk's lips as he regarded Spock: not one of his flashier charm-the-pants-off smiles, but somewhat slighter and less affected. "We're not working now, so call me Jim."

There was something familiar in those words as soon as he said them, something he couldn't immediately pinpoint. It wasn't as if the request was a big deal — Spock (even this Spock) had called him Jim before, although usually during some rather... stressful situations. Maybe a memory, then, but not one of his memories, and Kirk fought the urge to follow that thought through the artificial images in his head. It didn't matter. Right now, he was asking Spock to call him by his first name because right now, he wanted Spock to call him by his first name, and there was no cosmic destiny or television show or alternate reality status quo pushing him to do it. Just... them.

"And to answer your question, I play a pretty mean game of chess, which is why I'm letting you have the first-move advantage." Kirk leaned back in his chair, the very picture of confident ease. Okay, so it was coincidence that white ended up on Spock's side of the board — hell, he hadn't even been planning on Spock showing up — but a little pre-match boasting was part of the game too. "Has Bones flagged you down for a medical exam yet?"

Oh, wonderful. A game room.

Asuka's scowling eyes traveled over each patient and every table that held some pedestrian children's game. She was not a child, though that hardly seemed an excuse since she saw grown men sitting around board games. Oh how low the mighty have fallen. Her nurse seemed to pick up on her gloomy aura, for she put her hand on the redhead's back and guided her further into the room with a sympathetic smile.

"Now, now, it'll be fun. And I'm sure you'll be able to make new friends out of this. Just try..."

The eva pilot simply gave her a light "humph!" and walked away with her head held high. Unfortunately, the angle almost made her trip over a patient sitting on the floor.

Who in the hell sits right in the middle of--Oh, no...

It was Toji, playing some video game on the institute's TV. "How typical..." She mumbled before cutting into the fourth child properly. "Instead of trying to form alliances with other patients or learn more about why you are stuck here, you decide to be anti-social and play video games. What a reliable comrade you are..."

S.T. glanced over when someone took the other spot, either by choice or totalitarian rule. Mello. Odds shifted away from voluntary. He seemed like the kind of guy whose masculine self-image was negatively affected by being rescued. Or maybe he needed a biochemist.

Either way, today he actually looked like a sulky teenager. Old enough to vote, not old enough to buy beer. In all fifty states now, no thanks to Washington. Way too young to be an Information Age day trader, even with the leveling effect of the bulletin. Text did that. Quick search-and-replace and Sangamon Taylor could be anywhere from fifteen to fifty-five, give or take a few years. In person, he was just another log-haired duck-squeezer who'd been too young for 'Nam and thus didn't even have real peacenik credentials. Just two guys who couldn't get a break and hadn't made one for themselves.

S.T. grunted. "Hey, man." He didn't say anything else. Mello didn't look in the mood for chit-chat, and if he did want something he'd ask. S.T. was short on news. Laid up for one day and his intel was already fucking obsolete. Except the stuff D.C. had said, which wasn't for public release, and wasn't much beyond confirmation that the gut on the radio wasn't the Head Bastard doing funny voices.

While the girl hadn't completely lost her moodiness, she had decided to sit down and talk to him (rather than standing there and yelling), so that was an improvement in Guy's mind. She was also keeping a good enough distance that he was able to sit in his chair casually, though he certainly wasn't giving off the impression that he was bored or anything along those lines. He was far too polite for that -- not to mention that he was interested.

"Nice to meet you, Rita," he replied with a nod as he wondered just what it was that the girl researched. She seemed young for that sort of thing, but Anise seemed young to be in a branch of the military and Ion seemed young to be an ambassador of sorts. It was all a matter of perspective.

But her description of Flynn could only make him think of one person. Someone who showed up all the time and didn't really count as a friend; other than the do-gooder part, that was Asch in a nutshell, wasn't it? "Ahh, I think I know what you mean. I sort of know someone like that, too. Was he the sort of guy who could never really relax, too?" And this mention of her group of friends had him interested, too, since it sounded like Rita had been traveling. But he'd take things one at a time.

"That's right," he confirmed proudly. The year would have probably made a lot of difference in giving Claude a clearer picture of where he was from, but he hadn't thought to mention it. He did wondered what Europe might be like in Claude's time, whenever that was if they had spaceships. It had already changed a lot since he'd first made a name for himself there, and he couldn't imagine it ever stopping.

Talking about the future, however, was… humbling, in a way. "I guess so," he conceded. "I mean, I know that everyone here can be from different times; none of the other…guys here that I knew back home are from the same year as I am, or even the same decade. But ending up in a different decade just by walking around.…"

It sounded as crazy as time travel at all had sounded just days ago, or as going from Earth into space in seconds would have if he hadn't experienced it himself. Maybe Claude was right, and they'd gone through time that night as well. If they could get their hands on whatever the boss here had used to do it, that would be of extreme strategic significance. "If it is, it could be a way to get us out of here," he suggested.

He considered asking if Claude knew anything about time travel himself, but then he'd already gone and asked a question of his own, about Ronixis. He'd known since the ship that the two of them had already known each other, but… "Not long," he answered. "I'd only just met him the night we ended up finding you. Why?"

Japan felt like he was hyperventilating. On the inside at least. If he let the Venom cosplayer know he was having a mental fanboy breakdown over his outfit, he might be considered breaking character himself and that could never be allowed. He couldn't allow himself to destroy the carefully set atmosphere and everyone's hard work in maintaining it. Breathe. Slowly.

Oh God, his hair....

The man sat down next to him and Japan straightened, forgetting the game for a moment. It took a lot for him to forget a game, but this tragedy of the cosplay world was more than enough to take his mind off it. Venom, while not being wildly popular in the Guilty Gear franchise compared to some of the other characters, was certainly iconic for his character design alone. It meant he was readily identifiable and thus memorable, meaning it should have been easy to get his defining traits right. Just how could someone make such a mistake?!

But he really should have been paying more attention to what the man was saying. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, a disapproving expression on his face as he asked Japan to state his business. Did he think the country was a threat? Oh bother. What if he thought Japan was breaking character by recognizing him? "Ah....n-nothing, I just....was intrigued by your hair-- The symbol! The symbol on your hair. Is that...natural?"

"Nope. I took a few hits the night before last," from a train, "but they're healing. They made me stay in all yesterday, though." Her nose crinkled up. "I'm not sure I call that lucky."

Her game board was all set, but the conversation was more interesting. She looked up, and tried to figure out what she'd said wrong. "I hope your friend," she said, watching Mele for any signs that had been Mele-talk for me, "will be all right."

A thought occurred to her. A nasty, ugly one. "She wasn't one of the patients turned against us, was she? Or is that the other nights?" That was a horror. Trust in each other was their most precious commodity here, and Martin Landel knew it.

"It's called 'Carcassonne'. Relatively recent game, but quite popular. I'm glad they have it here." Ludwig looked up from his industrious and meticulous arranging of the pieces, pondering the person speaking to him. A woman, with white hair and a serious tone in her voice... she had a stiffness in her stance as well. A precision, in a sense- she had to be military. Which was odd, given just how young she was. Of course, it was possible she had just been trained- active military service was not a guarantee, and he couldn't tell more just from how she sat down. Of course, the fact that she chose to sit next to him, instead of further away, was rather surprising in its own right.

However, he still offered the instruction manual to her- in his opinion, if it was written down, it deserved to be read. And the rules weren't that complicated anyway. Make terrain and claim it. The rest was just elaborating on that one simple principle. "If you'd like, I wouldn't mind showing you how to play."

"Aigis."

Minato spoke her name aloud, taking a step, then two, into the game room. His nurse was still in the way, keeping him from clearly seeing what has going on further into the room, but it didn't take much for him to understand what was going on. Two voices, one familiar and filled with pain, and the other, stern and attempting to show authority.

"Christian, stay back. Angela is just upset right now." His nurse's voice quavered slightly between sounding upset and soothing. It was not working; he wouldn't stand for those weak explanations when he could hear his friend crying not too far from him. But they were keeping him back, and he clenched a fist in veiled frustration.

Aigis shouldn't sound upset. It was so strange in his ears, causing an ache all the way to his temples. What had happened? Why was she crying? She shouldn't have to cry. He didn't want any of his friends, especially her, to be brought to tears by this place. It had been bad enough when it was Junpei.

"Aigis." He said her name again, a little louder than he usually allowed of himself. He stepped around his nurse so he was even closer now, but was stopped short of her hand falling on his shoulder.

Never one for small talk, Mello got right to it. "Were you on patrol last night?" He assumed S.T. would know exactly where he meant. He also figured the other would know his next words for the admission they were, though not the degree to which it was a calculated one. "I tried to get there. The Institute had other plans."

He'd once had a knack for believing the most purely random good luck was as much to his credit as if he'd orchestrated the circumstances himself. Now, it seemed, he had the opposite 'gift,' thanks to those damn bugs running around in his brain, a faulty formula that could make two separate strokes of horrible luck add up to his fault. Or so he tried to tell himself. The truth was, he knew last night's debacle had been his fault. Let a skinny, barely-armed geek whose only fighting skills were with keyboards and joysticks run around by himself, in a place fucking crawling with monsters and worse, and of course trouble would home right in on him. Mello had fallen down on the job, and he knew it better than Matt did.

If she had her powers at this juncture, the nintendo would have been fried. And Isaac, too. So it was probably very fortunate for him that neither was physically possible at the moment. As it was, she threw down the controller in an angry huff.

"What do you know?! " Maybe it was childish to lash out at him like this, but she didn't find herself caring, if she was aware at all. She threw the controller down. "You try it then. Figure it out."

Carter watched the TV and her hands carefully, noticing that A = jumping motions and that you were supposed to put the man on top of the other moving things to make them get squashed flat.

"Andrew Carter," he said with a wide grin as he picked up his controller. His attention was split between the screen and his hands as he tried to make sure he was pressing all the right buttons to keep from 'dying'. "This is really something, this game. What's it called?"

Luigi wandered back and forth uncertainly as Carter's game started up. He slowly approached a marching Goomba and waited until the very last second to jump on it, laughing as he did so. "I think I got that one!" he said happily as he went on to jump at a few coin blocks.

His name was Snow.

For that reason and that reason alone, Claire did not return his smile or give him so much as a 'Likewise.' She was too busy trying to puzzle that one out. After much brow furrowing and pursing of the lips, she decided not to dwell on it. Whether he had thought it was a cool nickname or his parents were really that stupid, it would be rude to bring it up and ask.

"Um..." She ducked in next to him, rising to the tips of her toes to see exactly what he was rummaging through. It seemed to be all the old sorts of games Claire had played around with as a kid. Monopoly and Scrabble, Guess Who. The names leaped out at her with a barrage of memories following close behind. Happier times when her mother wasn't in the hospital and she wasn't playing the rebellious teenager. And even a few friendly games of Risk in the village. The ping pong table at the beach.

She shook her head, clearing it all away. Dwelling on those kinds of things would only make it worse. She looked up at Snow with one brow raised, half baffled by his sunniness and half-exasperated by it. He seemed so at east with the place. That was understandable in kids like Goku, but this guy was about her age. If not older. "You're seriously looking for a game right now?"

All righty then. Peter wasn't going to ask. And let's be honest here: calling yourself solely by the name of your profession was by far the least crazy of crazy ticks he had encountered here. By now all Peter could do was internally sigh and refer to him as Humperdink from here on.

If he wasn't going to give himself a name, then Peter was going to do it for him.

At the very least, Humperdink was passing the Creep Alert test. Aside from being clearly in low spirits, he wasn't behaving oddly or pinging his spider senses (in spite of being English - thus far, all the worst people he'd met here were from Britain. Aside from Dr. Frankenstein and Mathemaniac, of course.) He, too, kept up his smile, sincerity growing within it when the man put a little pep into his words. Maybe if they got a decent conversation going this shift wouldn't be so bad after all.

Then there came the rustle of the seat beside him. Peter hadn't noticed his roommate approaching from the corner of his eye, but the moment Brainy opened his mouth Peter had whipped around in his seat in surprise.

"Brainy? I - no, not interrupting anything-" He halted abruptly to stare at the Doctor. The man had addressed Brainy at the same time he did, and with the same level of concern to boot. Baffled, Peter cocked his head and glanced back and forth at the two. "Uh. Do you guys know each other? Or..."

Potentially awkward times ahead if he was wrong, but it sure seemed like it. It wasn't like Brainy to approach Peter while he was talking with a stranger.

The explosion of words from Scott was way more than Canada could effectively respond to. He might have been able to say something if it was just one or two sentences, but the tiny verbal sample of Scott's thoughts as his mind began to break left Matthew uselessly speechless throughout the entire tirade. Therefore Canada did nothing but sit, stare in shock, and occasionally say half broken sentences as Scott's world broke around him. Maybe telling him that he was a fictional character was a bit of a mistake.

And then Scott fainted alongside the paused Mario game, and Matthew concluded that yes, telling Scott he was from a comic book was a terrible, terrible idea. Success rate at asking Scott if he was a fictional character or not in a manner that did not leave him alarmed: 0%.

Looking as if he'd accidentally given a person a heart attack from some overly greasy poutine, Canada scanned around the room to see if anybody had noticed the unconscious person in front of him. Well...it seemed that nobody had seen him yet. But, what was he supposed to do? He glanced awkwardly between Scott and the exit, momentarily contemplating just walking away and pretending that nothing had ever happened. That would be the easiest way out of this, right? Or he could also tell a nurse that Scott had randomly fainted and act as though nothing had happened. Either way would be quite simple.

However, he quickly shook those ideas out of his head. The people working here were criminals; he couldn’t let attention be drawn to either Scott or him! He had to stay here and make sure that Scott would be okay!

.....

…So what exactly was he suppost to do now?

Canada stared down at Scott for a moment, hoping that maybe, just maybe Scott would wake up, and everything would go back to normal. Unfortunately, just like his hopes for getting maple syrup covered pancakes in the morning or meeting the other nations before lunch, those hopes were quickly crushed as it became apparent that nope, Scott was utterly and completely out cold.

He sighed weakly. He finally meets a Canadian, only to make him faint 5 minutes later. How wonderful his first day here was going. Was there anything good about this day?

Glancing up, Canada’s attention was suddenly brought to the Super Mario game alongside the unconscious body. Upon making the decision that he’d inform any questioning person that Scott was just taking a nap, Canada shifted over to where the controller was and picked it up. Well...he needed to stay here, and what else was there to do? Sure, the last time he’d played Super Mario was about 10 years ago, but…how hard could it be?

And that was how Canada spent the remainder of the shift unintentionally destroying Scott Pilgrim’s perfect run of Super Mario.

Edited 2010-10-09 09:28 (UTC)

Brainiac 5 looked between them both, deciding eventually to answer Peter first, since his question was the easiest of the two. And the one least likely to lead to further questions from one or both of them.

"Yes, the Doctor and I met shortly after I arrived here. He's a friend of mine as well," he explained, smiling in a way he hoped was reassuring. Between the medication and the bandages, he wasn't sure how successful it was though.

The Doctor's question was a bit more difficult, but as he'd realised during his discussion with Muraki, Brainiac 5 would have had to deal with it sooner or later. Apparently it was just going to be sooner rather than later.

"It's nothing that won't heal," he said carefully. "And while the nocturnal medical procedures here leave a lot to be desired, the diurnal ones are more acceptable." He eyed the bandages and added; "...considering the time period."

Well, that wasn't the answer Ritsuka had expected. The guy (whose name he still hadn't asked) was claiming to be an angel who was no longer affiliated with Heaven. Which, if Ritsuka recalled correctly, would make him a fallen angel. Weren't they supposed to be evil? Well, he supposed that depended upon which version of the story one was reading and which religious background the writer came from, but still - a fallen angel? Here? Did Landel even have power over the gods?

".....you're an angel?" he asked, trying to hide his skepticism. He didn't do a great job at it, but Ritsuka always thought angels were supposed to have wings and eyes and were a terror to look upon. This guy looked like any other normal American. Like a totally, one hundred percent normal American guy who might have been found working at some company somewhere behind a desk. Salarymen didn't really instill fear and awe into the hearts of the faithful unless they were descending en masse upon a restaurant without a reservation. "...really?"

The Doctor glanced at Peter in surprise after, too, had addressed Brainiac 5 and asked if he and the Coluan knew each other. A part of him wanted to ask the same question of Peter, but... No, Peter had called Brainiac 5 by name (nickname, even), so it was obvious they must have known each other.

But before he'd managed to answer the question himself, however, Brainiac 5 had answered it. The Doctor gave a brief nod of confirmation before turning his attention back to Brainiac 5, as he began to answer the Doctor's own question.

The mention of the nighttime "procedures" here made the Doctor begin to worry, especially given the similarity of Brainiac 5's state to Donna's. But just because he had mentioned the procedures didn't mean that he had underwent them... Or so the Doctor hoped.

"Yes, considering that," the Doctor agreed, trying not to jump to any conclusions. "But... Sorry, you said the, ah, 'nocturnal medical procedures'; you don't mean that you..."

He couldn't quite bring himself to finish the thought. He hoped that he wouldn't need to, and that he was wrong.

The sort of guy who couldn't relax? Hmm...

"You could say that. He's always chasing princesses or bad guys or whoever he feels he needs to go after. It looks like he's been flying through the ranks because of it, though, so... good for him, I guess." It was unclear whether she was being sincere or sarcastic, as Rita didn't seem especially interested in the topic. Her eyes wandered, looking over the devices with the colorful screens, before returning to Guy.

"That guy you were just reminded of; is he anything like that?" She supposed it wouldn't hurt to ask and find out how far their similarities went. It seemed unlikely at this point that there was any connection to Terca Lumireis or the people that she knew, but she didn't have anything better to do.

"Here? Pffft. Please. I've got more imagination than a haunted asylum." This coming from the guy who'd ~~stolen ideas~~ gotten inspiration from supermarket tabloids. But really. It was hard to think of just dessert-type situations for a couple thousand years.

It was definitely a point of interest to note the different reactions the two brothers had given him, even considering the time that was lost between them. Well, if the first question to pop out was how he survived and it was the particular stabbing he was thinking of... man, that was way back. The innocuous days before the Apocalypse was on the horizon and Lucifer was still safely tucked in his box and a certain archangel was riding the pine on college campuses in Ohio. Damn, he'd liked Springfield, too. Good, corrupted town. Easy hunting ground.

Besides that, this meant Dean still hadn't experienced that very special Tuesday in Florida. A few hundred times.

If he was right. Just to make sure.

"What're you asking I survived? Springfield University? Slow-dancing alien? Or are we talking..." He paused; not the mystery spot. "Nope, you were out of the picture for that one. CSI, maybe?"

Aigis shook her head, hoping to brush off the nurse trying to comfort her, but she was persistent. Aigis took a shaky breath and looked up, her eyes spilling hot tears. This would normally have fascinated her, but she didn't question it now. It wasn't the time. She didn't want to deal with it.

"Angela..." Her nurse looked sincere, she did. But Aigis wasn't having it.

"Just leave me alone," she whimpered, her voice scratchy and thick. "Leave me alone."

She was about to bury her face back into her arms to shut out the world again, but something... she heard something. Her name. Her real name. What her friends called her. Maybe she had imagined it, it seemed so far away. But...

"Aigis."

She gasped. No, she had certainly heard it. Was that--! She turned, and probably the only one that could make this situation, well not bearable, but survivable. Minato-san.

She reached out one hand, the other supporting her as she leaned towards him from her seat on the ground. Those nurses seemed determined to keep them apart, but she wouldn't be able to stand it if they took him away too. Not him! Not him!

"Minato-san!" she sobbed, still reaching. She just wanted his touch, just a little touch. Was that so much to ask?

Cloud held back a sigh. Yeah, this was... this was going to be tough. Did he just dump it all out at once, or did he try to just reveal little pieces at a time? He needed to tell him all of it, but he had to take it at a decent pace, right? Otherwise it was just going to be one big confusing mess.

Though, to be fair, it was going to be one big confusing mess no matter how he explained it.

"I told you about how Tifa helped me, right?" He really wasn't interested in the cards, and he set his hand aside face down. "She found me and recognized me, and I recognized her. She was already a member of that resistance group. Thing is... I didn't really recognize myself."

That sounded silly after he said it, and Cloud rubbed at the back of his head. "I mean, I was pretty messed up. I'm surprised I could even recall which way was up and which way was down. I knew my own name at least, but aside from that..." and here went nothing... "I thought I was you, Zack. Or rather, my past history became a mix of yours and mine. For a while, I didn't even remember you existed. Tifa did, of course, and you could tell I was confusing the hell out of her whenever I talked about the past, but she just went along with it because she didn't want to confuse me even more."

Thus far, this was the most severe reaction he had gotten to explaining what he was. Castiel had known that he would eventually encounter someone who would treat him like Dean and Sam had when they'd heard the truth (and they, more than anyone else, should have believed), but he had expected a child to be more understanding. Clearly he had misjudged once more, and it only made it that much clearer how he was still learning, and likely would be for a while.

"Yes," he said, somewhat awkwardly as he resisted the urge to shift around in his seat. Castiel was not used to be under this sort of scrutiny with no way to stand up for himself. He couldn't even flicker the lights overhead to prove his point. "It is up to you, whether or not you wish to believe it. My powers are too weakened to rid you of your doubt." While he had nothing to prove to this boy in particular, his reaction just nailed in the fact that when the Winchesters had seen him, they had only reacted with suspicion and wariness. And that would not have changed, the next time he actually tracked one of them down; which was proving difficult enough on his own, as he hadn't been able to corner one of them this entire day.

She accepted the proffered manual and began to read. It was certainly one of the stranger games she had heard of; certainly nothing like the ones she had played before. A game based around building cities? Part of her wondered what a man who looked so much like a soldier was doing playing a game like this, but she didn't voice her thoughts out loud.

"I'd like to learn," she said as she turned another page. The rules seemed simple enough--simple enough to know that the gameplay involved was almost certainly more complicated than that. In any case, it would be a welcome distraction.

"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. My name is Soma Peries."

Princesses and bad guys. Thinking of it that way, Guy could just fill in Natalia and Van to fit those spots, and it still fit for Asch. When it came to flying through the ranks, that didn't really apply, mainly because Asch was already about as high as he could get without being the Commandant himself. And Guy got the feeling that Daath wasn't going to let someone so young take that position. Not that it mattered now, seeing how they were all stuck here and Asch wasn't even supposed to exist, back home.

"Yeah, he kind of is," he said as he brought his hand up to his chin and though it through. "He tended to show up to bother my friends and I whenever he felt like it, usually just to give us some information and then run off just as quickly. He was also trying to stop the same person as us, but he insisted on working alone. And he's known a princess since childhood." Guy didn't know if he wanted to start dropping names just yet, simply because there were a lot of open wounds between Asch and Natalia and he didn't need to broadcast that to someone who had randomly mistaken him for a zealous knight in her own world.

"So you also went traveling around with a group of friends?" he asked instead, wanting to see just where the similarities ended.

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Page 8 of 15

Day 52: Game Room

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