[From here.]

Even this early, Edward was waiting for... whatever it was that was coming. Project 2911. Was that the name of a new beast? Did Landel have a dragon waiting for him to turn the wrong corner so he could be set on fire again and not live to regret it? He wouldn't be surprised at this point. He just wished he had the strength to go along with the rage.

He'd never tried dragon blood. It probably tasted like gasoline, which he had tried. It had only taken a week for Edward to realize that taking bets from Emmett was not a good thing to do.

No time for reminiscing. Remembering what Landel had done to his brother only fueled his drive, his steps moving faster.

[To here.]

By the end of lunch, Alaric was still hungry and still stuck on the middle of a perfectly balanced scale, the only difference with the scale having a new, possibly unrelated third option: it was either some sort of conspiracy (obviously of the supernatural sort), he was actually crazy, or he’d just had the very bad luck of being kidnapped by radicals. Radical what hadn’t been decided yet, but considering the two years of his life, he was really gunning for the last option. He had already invested in his own insanity, anyway – it was either him or the world that was crazy. The only problem was that the world hadn’t forced him to try to drug a werewolf in order to help the vampire who’d killed him.

Well. C’est la vie.

Except the part where there might not be a lot of life from Jules if that whole “mark” thing turned into what he assumed it was. What could he do now, though? For better or worse, he’d been kidnapped and put into a mental asylum that was trolled by armed guards who thought using tear gas on children was a good idea. The least they could have done was worried about heightened insurance costs or something. The least he could say was that this kind of topped the luck he’d had for a while.

At least he wasn’t the only one getting screwed, if that new intercom message was any indication. Considering he’d only heard two messages from this man – one slightly threatening and now this - it was left up for debate if he was merely incompetent or the world was against him. Maybe someone like Anise was used to this sort of thing, but a newbie just found the words confusing and basically meaningless. From all Alaric could tell it was just another guy getting crap from his boss. Any potential sympathy he could have felt had been nixed by… well, by everything right now. Especially while he was currently stuck in a hotbox.

The weather from the journey from building to greenhouse had been chilly, but the greenhouse itself was hot and humid. Alaric wasn’t new to the idea of humidity since he’d lived most of his life in North Carolina and Virginia, but it wasn’t usually so saturated. Whatever uplifted mood they were hoping for was lost on him; green thumbs didn’t run in his family. Mowing the lawn was kind of the end of the line for him, and even some weekends that hadn’t gotten done back when he’d had a lawn to mow.

Lack of green thumb or not, he was still conscious of the situation. Despite clearly not wanting to be there, he had taken to carefully investigating each plant already cultivated, searching out a particular purple flower that could be pressed and dried – not that he thought vervain would actually be around, but it was a hopeful thought.

[For his convenient alliance partner.]

[ from here ]

The other file room was almost exactly the same in layout, which meant it was easier for Erika to get around and find what she was looking for. And she made no delay in searching the file cabinets, looking obsessively for the "K" drawer. She wasn't entirely absorbed in her conquest to make Battler regret crossing her, though; Erika was still very aware that she had another important piece of information to squeeze out of Sync yet.

"Alright, so that ring. Let's hear about it." Multitasking was a necessary skill for a first-rate detective too, so she hoped Sync wouldn't skimp on the details thinking that she wasn't listening or something.

Meanwhile, her eyes caught sight of the "K" drawer and, unlike the drawer holding her own file, this one was much more cooperative in sliding open for her after a few pulls. Funny, she thought it was going to be stubborn like Battler... Oh well! The detective gleefully started to toss folders away, seemingly enjoying slowly stripping away at the drawer and getting closer to the file of one "Alexander Kenton".

To say Erika was disturbed was a bit of an understatement.

[ from here ]

"The answer is that the people who guard the Sun Room are the patients themselves. Your clue about the bulletin board was all I needed - I wondered why people kept apologizing every other day." Of course, that was the pattern Sync had to have been talking about. It was an usual one that Erika noted, but she had before brushed it aside as the pieces here being incompetent. Now she appreciated those apologies a little more. But why, exactly, was another mystery that she had to mull over as she went looking for her patient file.

The room was dusty, giving Erika the impression that no one really came here; that actually made her feel even more confident. Who needed fake files for fake identities? If she was correct, they'd only be here for show, more or less, but that was exactly the kind of thing the detective was hoping for. It'd be another important clue for solving the mystery behind this place, so she needed to find it, fake or not.

It didn't take long for her to find the "T" drawer, but the moment Erika tried to open it, she was met with great resistance. Hm, was it locked too? She supposed even for fake files, there had to be some sort of security to make it appear normal, but that was going to be troublesome... but not impossible. Time to see if brute force could break open any lock. This really was a strange board!

Instead of asking Sync, who clearly was much stronger and more capable of forcing the drawer open, Erika set down her flashlight and grabbed the drawer with both hands, then lifted her leg and braced herself against the file cabinet as she pulled. Stubborn? Yes. But she knew better than to trust Sync with anything she was going to find important, deal or not.

[ from here ]

Just as Erika carefully opened the door to the entry room, her radio crackled to life and if there was anything in that room, it definitely would have been alerted about their presence. If Erika minded this, it didn't show as she seemed to ignore the radio's broadcast, instead inspecting the room with her flashlight. Her back and forth search showed nothing that was hiding in the darkness, and finally, the detective stepped into the room.

"Looks like the resistance will be busy tonight," Erika muttered to herself, a sort of amused expression on her face as she thought about it. It was a shame though, that Marc wouldn't be broadcasting more. Hopefully, Landel-san would be kind enough to broadcast the drama for them on the intercom, as Erika was quite eager for more clues to dissect the behind-the-scenes story of the Institute. She was quite interested in what was going to happen to Jill, perhaps in a much more morbid way than most people would be.

After sweeping the room with her flashlight one more time, the detective turned around to see if Sync had already entered or not. Before entering the file rooms, she wanted to hear Sync's answer to her question first, as well as ask him a few others. Like how to reset that ring of his.

[from here]

Very few people out here. Maybe he should slow down, wait for some more patients to come crawling out of their rooms; otherwise, he'd just be hanging around, and then randomly approaching someone: wouldn't that look suspicious? The whole point was to make the act random.

Or perhaps he was just over-thinking. The larger, more popular halls would probably prove more fruitful.

[skipping to here]

It seemed sleep was a world away, and what might have mattered in objectivity failed to move Nigredo. Martin Landel was unreachable, his nightly "additions" a consequence of the place itself. It wasn't that the boy didn't care-- No, wait. He honestly was apathetic, but he supposed the emotion would shift if they would inject more permanence into their little events. As it was, he could only wait until this Eagle presented itself.

Waiting, however, usually meant rest, and rest wouldn't come. Even the pretense of unconsciousness failed to occur; he was locked in a state that refused stagnation.

Nigredo worried, concern seeping in the most unlikely of ways. And if honesty was a capability, it would admit to brothers. He wouldn't watch them anymore--that role had ended days prior--and Rubedo and Albedo perhaps would never seek him out in light of their new issues. But one refused to registered on the link. Did for a temporary hour and then vanished before his mental eyes. The fact was a discomfort. Tinged, in fact, with panic. Nigredo remembered well what occurred last time, and though this proved to be of another nature, it wasn't easily ignored.

Therefore, the boy slid away from his bed, reached into the closet for his solitary weapon, and--

--tripped over his feet. It was not a terribly monumental lack of grace, but it was enough propel his good arm to the wall, fingers slamming against the plaster. Something gave under the impact. Something crunched under his ear.

And the world faded away.

[Fail teleport to here.]

[ from here ]

She'd kind of been expecting to run into someone by now -- hell, with the amount of people who'd been in the cafeteria? But maybe they were hiding out from the monsters that they weren't equipped to handle. After all, if Ruby hadn't been through what she had and lived as long as she had, she'd probably be curled up in her room for safety, too. It wasn't like she was excited to tangle with these freaks.

But, it was a necessary evil, just like most of what she was doing these days. The nurse's station that Roxas referred to was on her right as she headed down the hall with slow, purposeful steps, following the path that the nurse had taken her out through while the lights were up.

A part of her wanted to know how aware they were of this shit -- of the fact that they were basically leading the patients through the paths they'd need to know to screw them over. Probably. Judging by Landel's taunts, they knew a lot of what went on. Security cameras, maybe? She hadn't seen any -- yet -- but she couldn't eliminate the possibility.

[ to here ]

[from here]

And the center of the main hallways it was. Nice and tidy, right, right; a bit too quiet to be sure, but hey. The place would probably liven up soon, one way or the other. She, on the other hand, just needed to wait here for this Scott guy so they could go on their important mission of stealing instruments that may or may not be there.

...Yeah, this might have been a way to release some stress by not worrying about things for a little, but hey. Senna was reminded of Reid, and that damn ice field night, but either way, things had started off the same that night, hadn't they? Ah, well.... The girl stretched upwards, then wandered next to the entry room doors, leaning against the wall. In her shinigami uniform, with the red-hilted sword in her waist band, she might have made an impressive figure... If she wasn't only five feet tall. Oh, well. Intimidations could be had by someone else. Senna would just stick to wit and charms if she got accosted by a random passerbyer.

[For Scott!]

[from here]

And again, quiet. Silence broken only by far off footsteps and the creak of a building settling. There was more in the darkness, Ayanami knew this, but currently nothing had stepped forward to show itself. This night was too similar to another, and her hand raised to her neck without meaning to. There was nothing like trauma in this, she told herself. It was only that she had become wary of empty halls, had become distrustful of others in the dark.

More than before, it seemed. Still, Rei moved slowly, satisfied with checking the hall thoroughly before passing through.

[Eva pilots!~]

The commotion just after the intercom's jingle displayed the same kind of erratic energy that the Head Doctor had been exuding all day.

"Come on, get those papers out of the way – no, I don't...! Ah! Good evening, everyone, and I hope you all enjoyed the activities we had to–"

Someone whispered something in the background. The Head Doctor sighed and muttered: "Yes, Lydia, I know we don't have many organized activities...

"...But anyway! Next up is dinner with your roommates! Tonight, we'll be having turkey and gravy, which will consist of some moist slices of turkey breast and garlic mashed potatoes, garnished with steamed broccoli, grilled asparagus, and topped with delicious gravy. We'll be serving the dinners with small side salads and our dessert will be pumpkin pie – as per usual, we have alternate meals for alternate dietary needs."

The Head Doctor took a long pause. Lydia mumbled something in the background.

"No, I'm not dawdling–! Er... I'll talk to you shortly, everyone!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. Thank you! ]

With sigh that toed the ambiguous no-mans-land between soft and explosive, Yuffie collected a plateful of waffles with all the toppings. She was sure that, if nothing else, it'd making a pretty satisfying splat if—when?—she launched it at somebody's face, and that was all that counted.

"Hanna, isn't that a little much?" Plucky asked, doubtfully.

"Uhhm. No. About, like... a little while ago, I managed five caramel apple pies with ice cream and berries and, y'know, I think there was a gallon of soda involved at some point." It wasn't the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. There really had been five caramel apple pies, but Cloud had ended up wearing two and a half and the third had taken a vacation to Boobsville (Tifa had loved it. Really. Really). The moral of the story (as she'd told Marlene and Denzel later) was that anything was game, just as long as you could run fast enough afterwards.

The nurse nodded slowly. "I… suppose. Well, I'll leave you to it. See that you behave, won't you, dear? You need to set a good example for the new batch of patients."

"My examples are the best examples," Yuffie proclaimed, with the dark-bright grin that still came so easily, no matter how little she felt really felt it. It lingered even when the nurse had flitted off to deal with another charge, but there was an edge to it. What the edge was, Yuffie couldn't say. Didn't want to say, after what'd gone down last night. Nah, she had better things to do; things like sitting down and waiting, just waiting, for Cloud or some other sucker of an easy target to walk through the door.

[HARLEY HARTWELL o/]

[ from here ]

There was a loud bang that echoed in the room as Erika threw the door open with enough force to slam it against the wall. She was immediately greeted with a rush of warm, humid air. The reason became apparent as soon as her eyes adjusted to the poor lighting: The room was filled with washers and dryers, obviously the laundry room. That was the only remarkable thing that the detective could find, as her shadow seemed to have disappeared once more. Not to be thwarted again, Erika slammed the door behind her shut with her foot, making it clear that she had blocked the only exit. Of course, a shadow could easily pass under the door again... but Erika wasn't looking for that. She walked right over to the nearest machine and grabbed the doors, crudely throwing them open without any sense of care. When Erika peered inside and found nothing, she continued to the next, and then the next, throwing open each door as she went down the line.

All the while, she had a mad grin on her face. Perhaps she thought that she finally cornered whatever she was pursuing, or maybe the detective was just mad. She didn't rest until every machine had been opened, but in the end, the detective found nothing.

Erika was far from discouraged, however. She took one look at the door, and then to the giant carts that were stacked underneath the counter on the wall, advancing towards them slowly...

Of course, with all that noise Erika had been making throwing open doors, she didn't quite catch the faint sound of water dripping that was trailing her the whole time.

[ from here ]

Naturally, the corridor Erika found herself in was devoid of activity. Tonight wasn't the night for sleep studies, which meant Erika could work undisturbed. Or so she thought. As if forgetting she was in the middle of explaining her theory about this board to Stephen, the detective immediately went to the nearest door and jiggled the handle.

Locked. It didn't take her very long to realize that the lock on this door was stronger, one that was not going to yield to force so easily. She proceeded to go down the line, first trying the doors on the left side of the corridor, then the right. Locked. Locked. Locked.

"... It would be a little disappointing if it was that easy," Erika grumbled to herself as she tried the last door, crossing her arms and looking down. "The last thing I needed to confirm my theory... There's no way around it. I'll have to come when the studies are actually done."

The idea of volunteering herself crossed her mind, but Erika wasn't exactly keen on risking that she get discharged herself. She was supposed to trap and torture her opponent, not the other way around, after all. It was a good thing she talked to Lunge and got a name to go by. Tomorrow was when the sleep studies would happen, so she wouldn't have to wait too long. Until then, whatever remained in those rooms would be a mystery to her. Still, it didn't exactly help Erika's irritation and her desire to show off to Sync that her theory was right. But she would have her chance tomorrow, so for tonight, she was done.

"I'm finished here. Let's go." To say Erika's investigation was done was far from the truth; perhaps she could find her proof somewhere else.

[From here.]

While it was his first time heading up the stairs, Castiel felt no trepidation. Even if he was alone and it was deathly quiet, he was used to unsettling situations and saw no reason to slow his march upward. Though at the sound of footsteps, he did glance over his shoulder for a split second, to see another patient who was taking the same path as him.

Not completely alone, then, and yet Castiel saw no reason to call out to the man. Even though he did take note of the coat he was wearing, immediately being reminded of his own.

Not, it wasn't his; it had been Jimmy Novac's, but that had been in another time and place.

Turning his gaze forward again, Castiel continued to climb up. He would find the chapel in one way or another.

[From here]

What Xemnas encountered upon entering the small, narrow room cluttered with many items was a distinct lack of any organization. In the mess, they were bearing no sense of apparent logic in the way they were stored. The Nobody carefully squeezed through the room to get a better look at its contents, keeping an eye upon the narrow shelving unit that contained more items than it was able to bear; its contents threatened to fall out of the unit were he to move too carelessly.

The small radiance of his flash light revealed the various items one would expect to find in a janitor's closet; mainly materials for the cleaning and maintenance of this facility's interior. The Superior swept the thin beam over the cluttered area, taking note of the existence of various items before finally locating the supplies he had been seeking; several metal pipes ranging from 4 inches to 3 feet in length. The pipes were, however, hollow from the inside, which meant he would likely need quite the few of them in order to provide enough metal for the blades he had requested. Pulling out the pillowcase he had the foresight of taking with him, Xemnas stocked up on more metal pipes than he had estimated to need.

After he was finished, he allowed his gaze to wander over the room once more, estimating the use of the remaining items. It was before long he discovered the existence of a tool kit, and after a brief investigation the Nobody moved nearly all of its contents to the pillow case he carried, concluding the tools to be of likely use to him some time in the future.

[From here]

It was before long Xemnas reached the final corridor he required to pass through in order to reach his destination. Though he was only three doors away from his goal, it hardly meant that the Nobody would already delusion himself with the fact that he had accomplished all this easily. Furthermore, he couldn't tell with certainty whether the Janitor's Closet would hold the supplies he required.

The Superior paused at the third door, discovering it to be locked. A rather weak and useless lock, however; a lock that would easily break under the pressure of force. It was only but a small hindrance that would be easy to take care of. Were they present, it might have been amusing to his subordinates that their leader would have to resort to breaking open a door by physical force, but Xemnas hardly considered such a fact relevant. The lock gave in easily, the door sweeping open and allowing him entrance to the room that lay beyond.

He had doubtlessly caused a significant amount of noise by breaking open this door, alerting potential threats lying in wait within the darkness of his presence. The Nobody didn't waste time going through the newly acquired entrance and close the door behind him.

[To here]

((From here.))

This corridor was empty as well, which was not surprising when one took into account the lack of activity in the previous area. They passed a door to their left, one that lacked a clear label on the maps Spock had seen. While there were several possibilities of what it entailed, Spock knew he would need to make some inquiries from patients who had been here longer than himself. He certainly could have attempted to open it now, but it was better to start further north and work their way down. There would be less time wasted backtracking through previously explored territory that way.

"If the maps are correct," and so far that appeared to be the case, "then we should find a morgue and two autopsy rooms in at the end of the hall ahead."

After a few moments of walking, though, they reached a closed door. Spock adjusted his items long enough to free one of his hands. Grasping onto the knob, he only need to try opening it once to realize it was locked. However, the door did not feel particularly strong, not unlike the one that led into the pharmacy.

Spock leaned down and propped some of his possessions against the wall. "It seems we will have to force our way through."

[from here with Spock]

The doctor jerked with surprise. Spock seemed to appear right at his elbow, and he'd be damned if his heart hadn't set to racing. He'd just been just starting to think that maybe that encounter with that statue was a fluke, and there'd be no surprises down here, and then that damned Vulcan had to go ahead and see if he could put him into his grave early. Where did he even learn that?

"Would you stop sneaking up on me?!" groused McCoy. Bad enough this wasn't the first time that Spock's appearance had him unsettled, but this time, maybe he could attribute it to that blasted angel.

He turned, and for an answer, started up the stairs, flashlight aimed up ahead. He glanced back at Spock out of the corner of his eye as they climbed. Spock looked well enough despite what Jim had told him. Looks could be deceiving though. Even if the institute's accelerated healing had worked, or whatever technology they used, it wouldn't erase the emotional trauma. Spock could swear all night long that Vulcans didn't have the capacity to experience that, but he knew better. McCoy would be happier if he could examine him, but this wasn't the time and place to carry that out.

Later. You aren't getting out of an exam that easy, he thought.

[from here]

Naruto made his way into the bigger hallway. He still hadn't seen a familiar face, or really much of anyone at all. That was kind of annoying, but he was sure he'd find someone sooner or later!

[to here]