Hello! I.R.I.S. here once more to announce to you, our honored guests, that you have officially made it through a day of our typical Landel's treatment. Of course, it isn't quite over: we will now have you retire to our designated patient quarters with one of your agency partners to inspect their sleeping area and the tools that we provide them with for the true bulk of our behavioral testing. On an added note, we would like you to notice once again that the meals we provide to our subjects are of the highest quality.

For those of you feeling apprehensive about taking part in our more intensive methods, please be aware that we would never imagine putting all of you in any danger whatsoever. This last shift will be your last at our Institute; afterward, we will escort you to our Head Doctor's personal observation station to survey some of our test Next-Wave participants in the rigorous trials we put them through – all for their betterment, of course.

Once again, we hope that you are satisfied with what you find, and as always, direct any questions you may have to your console.

The nurses began to escort the patients to their rooms. They didn't even seem to be brought to awareness by words such as "testing" and "subjects."

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. (Find all of the newly changed room assignments and shift introductions here.) If you are introducing your character during this shift, you may either choose for them character to wake up before their roommate gets back, or after. ]

S.T. was bored. Bored and feeling useless. He'd stomped around town, looking for a distraction from his own self-pitying funk, as the light had waned. Boredom and feigned anticipation had given way to dread. He'd circled back around to the grocery to see if there was anything less useless on the bulletin. No dice.

Then it happened. Everything changed, without the comfort of a closed door and an unchanging dormitory room. Usually it was like an elevator with a dinner service -- if the doors open on the same sight as you left, either it's a crap elevator or you're in a stockbroker's office tower. And if it were the latter, the food would need more unpronounceable French things.

This had no frame, no steady point of reference. The smell of rotting fruit, esters and alcohol, hit him first. Papers curled and became brittle. The ambient temperature dropped at least five degrees.

It was night, and the closest thing he had to a weapon was a ballpoint pen and a rack of rotting tomatoes. At least he hoped the tomatoes were on his side.

[for Spider Jerusalem, open to threadcrashing once we get going]

At first, the idea of being stuck in this meatbag dwelling sector at night seemed like a wonderful idea. So many targets, such an open field, and so many things that could be repurposed for use as weapons!

...Then he saw all the zombies. After the talk of those 'space barnacles' last night, it was fairly easy to identify them as such. But the only thing was, those things were supposed to only affect droids.

Now there were meatbag zombies. All over the place. And he didn't have a flamethrower. Oh no no no nononono.

In short, HK freaked out.

The temperature was starting to cool down, but that was okay with Akihiko. It wasn't that much different from winter evenings back home. He was feeling better, having been outside most of the day, but still. That niggling stress from the previous few days was still getting to him. He sighed, looking up at the darkening sky and thinking about it all.

Just need to focus. That's all.

[Adel? Boxing Club folks? SEES?]

Tim knew he shouldn't go and eat some greaseball burger meal, but really, the calorie content of a meal that he might actually enjoy was the furthest thing from his mind. Might as well get some use out of their bogus coupon book. It still struck him as really odd; this wasn't how mental facilities worked. It seemed like ridiculously low security to him, even with all the staff milling about.

Well, whatever. He was hungry and the sack lunch just wasn't doing it from him. So he ordered his meal, complete with the greasiest fries in the state of New Jersey, apparently, and sat at a table. The jeans were still annoying him. The skinny jeans fad was stupid, as far as he was concerned, because the pants were designed so tight that they were actually falling down if he sat. Wonderful. The next person he saw wearing these things voluntarily was getting punched in the face, just for being a moron.

...Okay, not really, but it was nice to entertain the thought.

He was glad to be away from Alfred for a few minutes, to clear his head. He wasn't sure where the butler - er, right, gentleman's gentleman - had gone, but he knew Alfred wouldn't follow him into a fast food place. Anyway, if there was anyone that knew how to take care of themselves in weird situations, it was Alfred. He'd be okay.

HEven with all the grease, the fries were palatable enough, and he opened another ketchup packet, glad for the chance to just sit here for a few minutes and think.

[Waiting for one impulsive speedster, and possibly one Superman clone.]

Senna stepped off the bus to wind blowing through the clothes she was given. A sad face at one of the nurses allowed her a long red scarf as well, and once she had draped it around her neck and let it hang down her back, she had trotted off.

The park she had saw last time seemed a good place to be on the look-out for the chicks from last night. It was close to the buses, and a big enough place that if they remembered that they had a race date, it would suit its purpose. The girl ran to a place in the middle of the field and waited there, shifting her weight from side to side. After a while, this wasn't enough, and Senna traded back and forth between jogging in place and acrobatics--the easy flips and cartwheels keeping her warm.

Her mind had changed in the night before. She had gotten a taste of what leadership entailed, and she wasn't sure she had rose to the occasion or not. She knew she had tried her best, and had been willing to give as much as she had, but it hadn't been enough. She knew this. Hokuto, at least, had gotten hurt, and in the end, they still hadn't explored more than the schoolhouse. They really needed a different approach with that place.

She went back and forth internally, body going through the motions and reflexes of her movements.

[for... Falis, Hokuto, Meche, and Soma?--and down to here]

Before anyone could come to any decisions for their next move, the room suddenly filled with a thick fog. Faster than he could realize what was happening, it had filled up the entire room and swallowed every single one of his friends. Then there was that undeniable stench of iron, blood and... he last remembered taking a step back and feeling that slippery skid and the realization of what that was. By the time he yelled, he was sitting straight up in his bed like he'd bolted awake. Like it'd been nothing more than a bad dream. ...What the hell just happened?!

"Oh! Good morning!" The nearby voice made him yelp with a half squeak-like noise. Oh, for hell's sake. It was one of those freaking nurses again. She was beaming at him like nothing had happened at all. Before he could so much as ask one question, the hag started blathering real fast about some field trip and buses and getting changed and hurrying up before everyone left without him and... OH MY GOD, WHAT WAS SHE DOING?! She was grabbing at his shirt like she was about to start helping him get dressed (or undressed in this case).

He flailed in a desperate attempt to get away from her and yelled his consent to go along if she would get out and let him change HIMSELF. What was the matter with her?! Thankfully, she left but told him to hurry. Hell if he knew what she'd do if he took too long. So for the sake of not getting freaking stripped, he quickly changed into the clothes she'd left on the bed. Clothes being the ugliest looking white-and-black track pants he'd ever seen and a bright blue sweatshirt with a cute little penguin design on the front. This was some kind of joke, right? ...Not to say the penguin wasn't cute or anything but there was no way, no way, he was wearing something like this in public.

But the nurse had burst right in again, and before Kanji could offer much protest, he was being pulled down the hallways and through the doors of the bus. He'd yelled some things her way, but she totally wasn't listening at all. By the time they stopped, he was standing at the front of the bus with a paper bag and the nurse had run off to cart another poor sap along. Frickin' PERFECT. For the sake of not standing up there like some kind of zoo animal for everyone to stare at, he plopped himself into one of the seats by the front and sighed in complete exasperation.

[Free. No limit.]

[from here]

Akihiko scanned the courtyard for anything - or anyone - suspicious, and let out a quiet sigh of relief when he didn't see or hear anything nearby. There were sounds of a fight from over one wall, but as long as the fight didn't move up and over it, they were in the clear. "I think we're good," he said, nodding to Mitsuru and Ken.

"Don't be nervous," he told the boy, though that was a feat they all knew would be easier said than done. "You'll be fine." Now definitely wasn't the time to go into the laundry list of things that could go wrong here. All three of them were aware of the dangers. There wasn't really any way to avoid them, and it was better to find out their exact limits in what was a relatively safe situation. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

"Damn that Megatron," Starscream muttered, struggling angrily with his uncooperative crutches as he waited outside his room, impatiently waiting on Lockdown. "He is quickly becoming just as irritatingly stubborn as the one from my universe. I do not care for his accusations, both of my treachery nor of my inability to be of use...bah, it should be ME ordering HIM around. Damn this leg..."

There was also the matter of the doctor's words, he thought to himself, closing his eyes and reminiscing on what the flesh-creature had said. "Play a game...what do you have in mind, human," he murmured, crossing his arms in thought as best he could. "Perhaps I shall get a chance to find out...if this fool ever shows up, that is..."

[from here]

North or south? That was an easy decision to make. Playing amateur National Geographic anthropologist-cum-documentarian didn't appeal. Not when humans were the only endangered species around here. Besides, he'd never perfected the well-oiled half-British half-asshole (if there was a difference) accent.

S.T. pivoted his body to the right, swung the rolling pin out ahead of him (in case the door was closed -- a black eye from actually running into a door was not something he wanted to have to admit to) and stepped into the next hall.

[to here]

Scar had realized it during the announcement after breakfast, and he had proceeded to create reluctance for it during the whole day, right until this very moment. Today was shower day. Shower day.

The staff had to practically drag their charge into the damp rooms after lunch. Had he been in the possession of his old nails, he would have stubbornly dug them into the floor ironically similar to any house-cat to prevent the nurses from moving him one inch closer to the water. For now he could only protest.

Because Scar hated water. And he hated getting wet even more, which was the inevitable consequence of coming into contact with water.

Unfortunately, he was pushed into the damp rooms even despite his protests with the order to 'clean himself'. The former feline knew that he wouldn't be allowed to leave before he had least made an attempt at the human version to clean himself - which the nurse's stern words only served to confirm - but that didn't quite cease his protests. It took a threat of sedation and to be washed by the nurses for Scar to finally move to one of the many empty shower-stalls.

And that was how far is 'cooperation' would go until now. Though he had endured this hellish experience more often since his stay here, Scar eyed the shower-head as if it would spit molten lava instead of water.

Just as von Karma started to enter the doorway leading to the Courtyard to look around for anyone remotely resembling his daughter, that pretentious lunatic's voice rang out over the Intercom, heralding the approach of lunch time. Right away, the damned nurse practically dragged him back into the cafeteria and towards the serving tables, telling him in that cloyingly cheerful tone that he could get his fresh air after he had had his meal. What rotten timing!

His mood worsened as he saw what was on those tables. "Nurse! This is the same greasy, disgusting, perfect-artery-ruining swill that was offered for lunch the last time I was in here! Does this Institute serve nothing else? How is any of this healthy for someone whom you claim has recently suffered from a stroke?!"

"Why, you're right, Mr. Fuchs! Here, I'll fix you a nice, big, healthy salad." Before he could protest that he wasn't hungry anyway, the smiling nurse loaded a heap of greens and some fruits onto a plate for him. Then she led him to one of the tables and seated him there. "Now, be a good man and finish all of that. You will do that just for me, won't you?"

The look he shot her in response indicated that he would never do anything "just for her." Certainly, not consuming this entire mountain of lettuce and carrots. As much as he approved of salads, the portion she served him was nothing short of ludicrous. Glaring at her in silence, he made no pretense of even starting in on this ridiculous travesty of a meal. Finally, she seemed to take the hint, excusing herself to attend to the other patients... but not without admonishing him that his "plate had better be clean" by the time she returned to take him to the Courtyard.

As she left him, von Karma looked all around him to see whether Franziska had come into the cafeteria yet. Unfortunately, as he had already arranged to meet his former roommate at this time, all he could do for now was to attempt to visually confirm her presence in this hellhole. As much as he hoped that the author of the replies to this S.T.'s note was nothing more than an impostor -- in which case, he would make that person pay for brazenly impersonating his daughter -- he was not entirely certain of that right now.

In the meantime, he had other practical matters to attend to. He still needed to speak to Javert to find out what had truly happened during the time he was unconscious. As he surreptitiously scanned the stream of arriving patients for the face of his daughter -- or those of his enemies -- he patiently awaited Javert's arrival, hoping that the man could still recognize him after all this time.

[Closed to Javert]

Endrance turned his head to look at the intercom, giving it a look that would wither an entire rose garden in an instant. He would never get used to ending up in his room again from somewhere else in the Institute.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not sitting up just yet. He could tell already that his torso had been heavily bandaged, even more so than it had been the night before. The cuts on his arms were covered with fresh bandages, and the one on his cheek seemed to no longer be there at all.

Endrance had been expecting to wake up in a lot of pain, but even that seemed numbed. "They must have given me something," he murmured quietly, as he slowly sat up.

At that moment, his nurse came to get him, pushing a wheelchair along with her. "Peyton, dear, good morning. I've come to take you to breakfast, so..." He shook his head. "I'm fine. There's no need for that...I can walk perfectly well."

She sighed. Well, if he insisted, she wasn't going to stop him. She motioned for an orderly to take the chair away, and walked him to the cafeteria. Once they had gotten there, she pointed him toward a seat, then set a full tray of pancakes covered with syrup, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Now eat all of that, Peyton, or else you won't be strong enough to keep walking like that."

He glared at her back as she walked away, then stopped suddenly. There was that faint pulse he'd felt the night before...it was exactly the same.

And so he completely ignored his food in favor of staring at the cafeteria doors, looking at every patient that came in.

[thread will be closed to Haseo. ♥]

[from here]

The fog wasn't quite as thick here, at least, and that was a blessing. But the town itself was like nothing Akihiko had ever seen. "Something bad happened here. Hell if I know what, but..."

And what was with that severed arm they'd seen just then? Where did it come from - from here? The thought sent a chill down his spine, though he really didn't want to think about it too much. He didn't want to think about what that thing he'd seen in the fog was, either.

"Weapons out, and be ready for anything." He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice.

[from here.]

Akihiko didn't respond to that question of Junpei's for a few minutes; he had to calm down enough so the response wouldn't come out as angrily as he thought it might otherwise.

"Tell you what. You get the first shot at that bastard, then you follow up the beatdown with a last shot. Sound fair?"

Once that was out of his system, he surveyed the surroundings again. Was it just him, or did the fog seem thicker here?

"I think we want to keep going southeast from here."

[from here]

Junpei landed surprisingly well, only stumbling a little, when he dropped down from the wall. While he waited for the others to come down, half expecting Yukari to use him as a make shgift ladder to get down or something, he kept his eyes and flashlight trained on the surrounding area.

There was fog. Creepy.

[from here]

It was pretty quiet this early on. Teisel would have preferred a crowd to blend into (as much as he could blend in anywhere), but there wasn't any time to waste. With nothing else to focus on, his thoughts drifted back to the matter of his file.

Hmmm... Maybe if he rolled up the folder he could shove it through the base of his ponytail, like he had with his scalpel last night. It'd look a little awkward, but a guy only had so many hands.

Hmm.

"Well, time to get a move on."  Teisel was a little curious about the box Pencil-Neck was going on about, but it probably wasn't anything too interesting.  His mind went immediately to the thought of trap-box reaverbots, and those were nothing but a pain in the ass. 

Hauling the two pipes out of the closet, he settled them comfortably over his shoulder, picked up his flashlight and set out.

There wasn't any jingle as the intercom came on; it sounded like the Head Doctor was still having issues with the system, and it also seemed like he was none too pleased about it.

"Well, everyone, I hope that you all had more fun this last shift than I did! Hahahaaa..."

His weak laughter trailed off. His office chair squeaked.

"In any case, as you all probably know already, it's now time for dinner! I'm sure you've all worked up an appetite after all that repairing – er – exercising, so I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that you'll be served generous portions of spaghetti with delicious tomato sauce and, if desired, meatballs. For sides, you'll be having some freshly baked garlic bread and, if requested, a Caesar salad. Our regular drinks are available, and for dessert, we'll be serving some delicious strawberry gelato.

"And, now, I suppose it's time we get back to this wiri–"

The announcement cut off abruptly.

Well, that was... special. No wonder he was losing respect for this place--the fearful Martin Landel was coming undone, most probably with boredom. So scary. Even Nursey seemed a little exasperated, though that most likely had more to do with X's constant insistence to stay in the Sun Room rather than go inside the Greenhouse.

He did, after all, have business to attend to (and plants just annoyed him, though that was besides the point).

He took a seat on a particularly comfortable looking couch, keeeping an eye out for any signs of- Ah, there was Tyche! Luxord plucked her from the floor and placed her on his lap, smiling at the little ball of black fluff as she played with his fingers. It felt like so long since he'd last seen her!

[For Grell and Jason, I think?]