By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.

The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.

He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.

Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.

A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.

However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.

[To here.]

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of felt like she was floating and bobbing in the water.

But she was alive.

Knowing how close she came to death last night, and remembering the lengths her friends had gone to in order to save her, there was no way Anise could let a little discomfort get her down. She had to be at her best today so she wouldn't seem ungrateful to Guy and Claude. On that note, she had to remember to thank them properly, now that she was better able to express herself.

While getting ready, Anise was surprised to actually run into Claude that morning. He came to her room asking for the notebook he stored there (or maybe it was an excuse to see her cute face again), so Anise happily located it and handed it over. She was pretty tired, but the big smile she gave him was genuine. Who wouldn't be happy to see her savior so soon after a dramatic rescue?

After he left, Anise finished re-tying her pigtails into a low position so the military beret would fit on her head, and then she was ready! Even though her stomach wasn't feeling that great, she figured sitting down to a decent meal would help normalize it. And luckily for her, she was among the few who had the privilege of eating such a meal. Anise filled a plate with french toast topped with syrup and fruit, accompanied by small portions of each of the available side dishes.

It looked like she was early, which meant there weren't a lot of people around. That was okay, though. Anise could get a good head start on her meal before any company came around. She sat down at a table by herself and started on her sausage first.

[for Tolten!]

Peter didn't know if he and Firo had left on the best terms, if only because the younger man was still so confused about what was going on in this place. The change in time period had a lot to do with it, but it had also sounded like he'd had a lot going on in his life before ending up here. Then again, who hadn't? Peter had just exploded before his arrival.

It was hard to think back to that night, to the way he'd stood in Kirby Plaza while burning up with nuclear overload, when he was in this quaint snow-covered town. This was the sort of image you'd see on the Christmas card; it wasn't supposed to exist.

Still, his walk with Firo had been rather long all things considered, and so Peter finally decided to leave the teen to his devices and go warm up somewhere. The best way to do that would be by putting some hot food in his stomach, and so he ended up backtracking to the Tasty Burger. He could have gone ahead to the Twin Pines, since the food was obviously better quality there, but the walk was longer and his face was starting to get numb.

Letting out a small sigh of relief as he stepped into the lively fast food place, Peter fished the proper coupon out of his pocket and went to stand in line, eyeing the two young girls at the counter as he waited for it to be his turn. Once he'd eaten, he could really start searching the shops for what to buy.

[Claire Bennet.]

Previously, on Peter Parker's Sucky Life:

Pain, pain, fourth wall bulldozing, fire and pain, and teeny useless swords.

Yeah, so Peter wasn't feeling so hot today. It was a marked improvement on waking up after getting shanked by Grell, but this was in no way a good morning. They had all made it through the basement trials and got their dinky rewards, but man did they pay a hefty price for it. All of them. (Scott and the others had to fight robot raptors? What the hell...) Peter rose from his bed oh so delicately and with much wincing, thanking whoever it was that carried them back to bed every night for putting him belly down on his mattress.

His back, oh god. Peter seethed and hissed and grunted in pain. It felt like it was scabbing over, and the bandages yanked at the tender skin with every minute muscle spasm, every move he made. Cripes. Better his back than his arms or legs, but still. It was going to make things so difficult if they got stuck in Doyleton all over again.

Brainy was so thoroughly wrapped in his blankets on the other side of the room that Peter couldn't make heads or tails of his current state. But he'd stayed in the whole night, right? He should be fine.

Sometimes he just needed extra convincing of that. Considering the guy's track record and all.

From the sounds of it, this Aguilar guy wasn't changing too much of the routine. Being field trip day, Peter had wondered how the new man in charge would handle it (or how General Lieutenant Burger would, apparently). If he planned on letting them out at all. The announcement squashed that theory, and so did the orderly tromping in with a second-hand change of clothes. The burly man passed him the goods without so much as a word, stomping right back outside to wait behind the door. Guess they weren't going in military gear.

...Orderly? Peter pushed the door open again after performing the hastiest change of clothes he could manage in his state, peering at the man. That guy was in an army uniform yesterday. He remembered him. His buzz cut was uneven and he had a pointy old mole on the back of his neck.

"Uh. Are you going incognito?"

He was suddenly on the end of such a pointed look Peter could swear he was talking to Nick Fury. If Nick Fury was white and still had both eyes. "...Right. Okay. Lead the way, hombre."

So undercover it was. The people of Doyleton didn't know this was a military operation. Briefly, he wondered what the advantages of revealing that to the townsfolk could be, but then he remembered how they'd all up and morphed into the living dead at sundown. Put to rest any usefulness they might have had. They were just puppets, the same as the rest of the creepy crawlies in this hellhole.

Though that did beg the question as to why you would have to hide your secrets from puppets in the first place.

He was bequeathed with the usual paper bag lunch and packet of coupons, though he was still surprised to find himself a $15 gift card in the mix. Intercom Dude wasn't kidding about that?

He had money?

...What would he even do with money in Doyleton? What was fifteen dollars and worth buying that wasn't a gourmet burger? Peter boggled at the card as he clambered onto the bus. He'd never gone through the town with any inclination to window shop, so he couldn't even say what was available. He might actually have to look around. Even something simple might be a big help.

The orderly-formerly-known-as-Private-Dwight followed him on tucked a pillow into his seat for him. "Sit down. And don't do anything stupid. You'll heal a lot faster if you don't agitate it."

Peter fidgeted, but quietly settled into the pillow. This was kind of awkward. "Um. Thank you. I deeply appreciate your concern." The man nodded, and was gone.

Peter was the only one on the bus so far. The emptiness was kind of creeping him out.

[Reserved for Harvey Dent. WHY AM I TOP POSTING EVERYTHING YOU JERKS.]

[from here]

He'd seen pins whose meaning he wasn't certain of, on other people's berets, a sword and shield the main one. Given Aguilar's fixation on results, and on the prisoners' proving their worth, Mello had to wonder if they'd be seeing a weeding-out of those who hadn't faced ordeals deemed worthy of pins. He was both disturbed and strangely comforted by that tacit admission of what really went on here. The face of evil showing itself, but when it did, at least you knew what you were dealing with. Mello had always counted hypocrisy as one of the worst sins; he'd never tried to act as if he were anything other than what he was.

"I know I pissed them off." He looked back again, giving Mordio a skewed grin meant to show he was proud of this, and he was; he'd done it deliberately. "This morning. I refused to clean."

He looked over the railing as he walked along beside it, and held up a finger. There was... something down there, where the sun room should have been, an undulating, dark mass, and he spoke quietly when he spoke again. "What the hell's that?"

[from here]

No one else was up here yet, at least not in sight. The hall off to his left still seemed almost to pulse with the unnatural quiet, as if it were a dark blot on Mello's mental map of the place. He didn't so much as swing the flashlight beam towards it; he turned quickly away, heading for the closet where he'd got his pipe. It seemed so long ago. He was back to not being properly armed. His gun had only had two rounds, yes, but it had felt damn good to have even those.

"I didn't get any of my shit back tonight," he said, glancing back at Mordio. "When did your ring show up again?"

His flashlight would do for now, as it had done other nights. What he was interested in were the chemicals he'd noticed in that storage area, and those other doors off that hallway. He knew by now that an explosion alone wouldn't suffice for the purposes of escaping, but if--when; the slip was irritatingly automatic, but his correction just as much so--he discovered the nerve center of the Institute, the place he assumed had to exist, where the person currently in charge monitored and controlled all the nighttime idiocy, he definitely wanted brute force as an option.

[from here]

No sound came from inside the stairwell, but that amounted to little at times. Still the Digimon stretched her senses, moving quickly and quietly into the dark. None were in this place yet, despite the small crowd in the hall below. It might mean none have moved upstairs, or it might simply mean they were quicker than she.

All in all, the silence was stiffing, and reminded her too much of a presence in dark wisps creeping over her. That had been at the top of these stairs, hadn't it? Quite a few things had been stationed there, in the end. She'd do well to be cautious.

[From here.]

All righty. First one here. Surprise surprise.

Peter took a thin breath and took up a post across from the hall, where he could watch both entrances for the gang. His arms crossed and he leaned against the wall. The whole thing was rather broody-looking, to be honest. Not the kind of chipper attitude you expected from a guy dressed like a cast member of Cirque du Soleil.

He was allowed to have bad moods. They happened. He hadn't started the night in one, but he'd tripped into it easily enough on his own. That sort of thing happened when your life sucked this much, okay. There was no sanctuary from the suckage. He sighed yet again. It'd be easier to perk up once somebody else showed up. Then he could push his mind away from all of this garbage and pound some small talk out of it.

Not to mention that waiting out here alone in the big hallway was twice as creepy as it was moving alone through the little ones. His flashlight swung back and forth. Please don't let anything be creeping on me in the dark. Please please please...

He was so not in the mood for whatever monstrosities were lying in wait for him. And knowing Landel's, they were.

[For the Platonic Family!! Y'all know who you are.]

[From here.]

Yep. Still the only one here. He supposed that could be a good thing. That meant there would be less people to notice the teenage boy strolling into the bathroom and the schmuck in tights that came out two minutes later. He was all for less people noticing that.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Wow. Was he the first one out tonight? There was literally no one here.

Peter blinked at the expansive hallway before him, trying to calculate the amount of time it had taken him to gather up his supplies and truck on over here. It couldn't have been more than five minutes. Less than that, probably. Geez, this was creepy though.

All the more reason to keep on moving. A wee boy alone in a big empty hallway was like Two Buck Tuesdays at Benny's All Beef Hot Dogs for monsters. Any minute now he'd be swarmed with bats the size of cocker-spaniels or something.

[To here.]

Awkwaaaaaaaard.

After about five minutes of radio silence from the intercom, Peter was expecting to hear some heavy mouth breathing or other inappropriate stalker sound effects. Instead they heard nothing. And they continued to hear nothing until twilight hit.

All he could imagine now was whoever this Aguilar guy was just. Sitting there. Staring at the microphone, eyes steadily bulging over the span of fifteen minutes until he attained Muppet status. Fortunately, the beginning of the night was marked with at least some hint of humanity behind the speakers.

'Your actions will determine ours...' In what sense? he wondered. Peter raised a brow up at his speaker. He could hope to god that if the patients spent the night garnishing the trees and decking the halls that the soldiers would give them a Christmas miracle, but that would be a sad waste of hope. Happy wasn't allowed here. They sniffed it out with happy detectors at every entrance and confiscated it before letting you in.

...Though on second thought...if Indiana Jones was real here, did that mean that Santa Claus was too?

Holy.

Shit.

Okay okay, so that was totally ridiculous and he could not focus on that right now. But as Peter excused himself from dinner and gathered his costume into his trusty pillow case, he couldn't help feeling a little giddy. Because...well...it was stupid, but it so could happen here. He'd met the Scarecrow of Oz, for frick's sake. Santa was only like, two steps away from that level of utter silly. Right? Oh god, it was so stupid, but a man could dream, goddammit. There had to be a universe with a freaking Santa Claus; that jolly old blubber ball made a guest appearance in at least half of everything that aired on public television. And other things. He'd shown up in Narnia, right? Was there a Narnia universe somewhere?

Peter slid out of the closet, pillow case full of spandex and suddenly reminded of just how low on his list of concerns the existence of Santa Claus was. Standing in the darkness with a feeble flashlight could do that to you.

"Well. I guess that's as cheery a goodnight we're going to get from this Aguilar guy." Peter shook his head at his roommate, trying to quell the niggling feeling in the back of his head. He already knew that this was 'bad news'. Everything was bad news here. After a while you just had to learn that panicking about it every single second of every day would get you nowhere. Keep on Trucking was the survival motto of Landel's.

He smiled at his roommate's shadowed form and shrugged, then fished his magic ring from his desk. Tonight, he was going to figure out how that doomahickey worked. It was about damn time. Thank you, random bulletin post, for showing him the light.

"Have a good sleep, okay?" Peter gave a wave, swinging the door open and slinging the pillow case over his shoulder. "Lock the door behind me."

There was a click of the latch, and Peter was gone.

[To here.]

Light snowfall marked the beginning of the morning, accompanied by a strange sort of quiet. The usual announcements that came at this time were nowhere to be heard. Thus, one might have expected the institute to have its first peaceful morning, uninterrupted by voices overhead.

No one, therefore, probably expected the rude awakening.

Soldiers lined the corridors within the patient blocks and proceeded to enter into the rooms unannounced. Their orders were simple: get every patient awake and to the cafeteria as quickly and efficiently as possible. There was to be no dawdling, no delay; there was work to be done and an entire population to force it upon.

Upon entering the cafeteria, an individual might have noticed the differences immediately. For one, there existed neither smell nor sight of food. For another, every inch of space along the cafeteria wall was taken up by soldiers: burly figures in unmarked black uniforms carrying rifles at their side. Finally, at the center of room was a pile of cleaning supplies. Dust mops, dustpans, brooms, scrubbers, plastic pails of warm soap water, rags--there seemed no end to their number, almost as if the military was expecting a large group of cleaners.

An officer, differentiated from the others by her uniform and stern demeanor, stepped forward as soon as the crowd settled. She then clapped her hands to call their attention. "Since you obviously have no desire for food and would rather use them as weapons," the woman started, her voice surprisingly monotone for the sarcasm displayed, "we won't bother wasting your time by having you eat this morning."

Here, she gestured to the supplies at the center of the room. Her gaze turned sharp. "We wasted our time by cleaning up after your mess," she continued. "It's only fair you do your part now. Those who have participated in yesterday's insubordination, however, do not get to help. Instead, you will stay as you are and allow everyone a chance to see exactly who is responsible for their punishment."

There was a brief pause as the orders sunk in. "By the end of this shift, I want to see my reflection on the floor. Get to work."

The cafeteria doors slammed shut, signaling the start of the task.

[ Please refer to this post for how to handle the next shift. Also, NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS are free to reply to this with their introduction post. Please have your character wake up in a random room if we have not yet assigned them. Thank you! ]

[from here]

A bigger hallway. Just how big was this place supposed to be, anyway? Not that it mattered since he'd find his way out regardless, but Sanctum facilities tended to be huge. He still wasn't seeing any signs of monsters. Wasn't seeing too many people either. ...Actually, Snow wasn't seeing much of anything with how dark it was. Not that he was going to let that handicap him.

Feeling along the wall for a moment, it wasn't too hard to find another door right next to him. Well, that was as good a direction as any.

[to here]

[M74]

Huh, well look at that. Snow hadn't been expecting them to actually have the guts to talk to them directly. Looked like they didn't want to show their face, though, since all they did was make an announcement over a speaker. Weird they wouldn't use a teleprompter. Actually, what was with all the old technology here anyway? Guess l'Cie weren't worth the resources and they just threw a bunch of old relics in this place. Real nice.

Anyway, the door clicked open just like Badou said it would. Guess it was go time!

He threw on a big grin and gave his companion a quick thumbs up. "Don't you worry, alright? No one's gonna end up food tonight. I'll go scout ahead and find us a way outta here. You just hang tight."

Without hanging around to hear any thank yous or good luck wishes, Snow threw up his hand in farewell and ran out the door. No time to waste!

[to here]

Could it really be? Could Goku really be here?

Kibitoshin didn't want to get too excited- he didn't dare, not when he was still so accutely aware of how unfair the Institute could be with things like that. They'd taken Trunks away, and Apollo, and Dahlia, so who was to say this was going to be any different? But in between the worrying and drifting he'd been doing all day ("Mr. Williams, you should really try to stay in one place. How will you make any new friends if you don't concentrate?"), all he wanted was to be able to really believe in something again, and maybe- maybe if Goku really was here, things could change. There wasn't anything Goku couldn't do. If he was on their side, they could-

- not get ahead of themselves. They were supposed to be meeting in the rec field, right? They could talk properly there.

He'd tried not to panic when he hadn't received an immediate response (admittedly he had only waited for five or ten minutes, but it had felt like forever), and he'd tried not to worry when his nurse had asked him why on Earth he wanted to go outside when everyone else was inside (maybe he'd missed him? But Goku was so tall...), just like he'd managed to conveniently ignore how bad Goku's handwriting on the bulletin board had been (so he wasn't all that educated, but surely he knew how to write?). But when Kibitoshin stepped out onto a conspicuously, miserably grey and empty field, he truly felt his heart sink again. He couldn't have been wrong. Surely not?

[sob, so late. GOKU COME HERE]

Somehow, after their talk in the chapel, Elaine felt simultaneously more accepting of and more irritated by her future husband. On the one hand, seven years had clearly been good to him. He seemed more sincere and thoughtful than he had been before his disappearance, and he had a more mature (dare she say, handsome?) look to him. On the other hand, there were clearly some things that made even time throw up its hands in vain and say, "To hell with this!" Guybrush was still inexorably prone to disastrous accidents if the story about the Pox of LeChuck was anything to go by, and he was so obviously keeping something important from her that any passing dolt in the Institute would have been able to tell. In the end, that eternal underlying sweetness of his that won out, keeping her from punching him again, at least. That was only by a hairs width, though. Her snugglecakes was going to have to stay on his best behaviour if he knew what was good for him.

She left the Mighty Pirate™ alone for the time being when the announcement of the next shift went off. He would want some time to catch up with Morgan next, presumably. As much as the woman's attitude bothered her, she was a friend of Guybrush's, as she had claimed. Elaine could be strict, but she wasn't the kind of shrewish future wife/past fiancé who would keep her man from seeing his friends. Besides, she needed some more time to catch up on the goings-on of the Institute. Patients filled the building to the brim, now, it seemed; there would be a lot to investigate.

After a few quick trips back and forth to the bulletin and a few new leads to follow up on, the governor gave in to her nurse's persistent nagging and headed to the cafeteria for brunch. After the relatively light fare of the day before, Elaine took advantage of the Institute's admittedly scrumptious offerings and loaded up a full, balanced brunchfast of eggs, sausage links, waffles, and vegetable soup. As expected, the selection of drinks did not offer either root beer or grog. Grog she could live without, at least, she thought while making a face. Eugh. For now, she settled for a tall glass of water.

Elaine settled into a seat in the cafeteria and tucked into her meal. Her eyes didn't stay on her food, though, instead gazing around restlessly; she hadn't seen LeChuck so far this morning, and god forbid he wanted to invite himself to brunch with her if he chose now to show up. A certain horribly unpleasant dinner on Mêlée Island came to mind. She was prepared to either move at the first sign of the dread pirate or signal a random stranger to sit with her before he could.

[For Dean]

[dropping in from here]

You know, if we're going to be tossed into weird random warp portals, Minako mused with more than a slight bit of irritation, as the scenery around her blurred into a dizzying smear of colors, they could at least wait until we're at a door. There'd been no sign of one, not even a hint of shelter -- just more rain and mud and yuck as far as she could see. Which really wasn't far, considering the storm and all, but still.

This whole warping-around thing was like going through portals in a video game or something, which was weird enough when it happened on screen. Much more of this and she'd start feeling bad for the characters she was controlling, and that thought led to a remembrance of that time she'd ended up in that video game. Before she finished that thought, though, the brief moment of vertigo cleared and Minako found herself looking at something far more disturbing than Cyberwarrior Girl Luga: the entryway of Juuban High School.

No matter that the place was weirdly, echoingly empty despite the fact that it was bright daylight outside (even if it had just been the middle of the night half a second before), she knew it. There was her shoe locker, right over there, and what was going on here. She was... home. Wasn't she?

Except the other two were still right there, and as she turned to look at them -- one still obnoxious, mud-splattered, and lugging that ridiculous chainsaw, and the other still shirtless and bloody -- she realized that she also was no longer soaking wet and dressed in ripped-up pajamas. Her hand automatically went to her head, patting the very-much-dry red bow in her hair, and the other brushed down the very real school uniform, and her eyes went wide in surprise. "...what?"

[From here]

America typically had a pretty vivid imagination, so he could picture a lot of things being out in the hall waiting for him. What he hadn't considered, however, was the hall itself not being there. Instead of a nice, reasonably creepy, relatively dry corridor, America walked into a full on thunderstorm. It took all of five seconds to get drenched in the downpour, and the nation let out a frustrated groan as he looked around. Just what the hell had happened?

America threw up his hands in frustration, then shot an accusatory glance at the other nation, making sure his voice was extra loud to carry over the storm. "England, this is totally your fault!" The old man had been the one just talking about going outside, so it was perfectly reasonable and fair to place the blame on him. Of course he immediately turned to go back inside, but--wait. Where had the building gone?!

"Uh, what's going on here?" Not that dreams were ever supposed to make sense, but the architecture at least had conformed to the basic laws of logic up until now. America made sure to keep his flashlight on, then turned back to get a better look at where they were apparently stuck, since the whole fucking building had up and vanished.

( from here. )

... This wasn't right.

The moment Bella stepped through the door, a strange feeling overtook her, and it made her feel dizzy. Reaching out into the darkness, she grasped onto something soft -

Soft?

Clicking on her flashlight instantly, the teenager's face paled upon looking around. This ... was not where they should have been. They should have been somewhere else! "Claire, t ... take out the map again, please? I think something's wrong ..." She had never been in this room, never even seen one that looked like it. The thing she was grasping onto was a couch, and instantly her hand withdrew back from it, as if she was afraid that it would change and revert into something else.

Peering around, she lifted her flashlight to follow her gaze - lockers on one wall, a cabinet. There were mirrors as well ... Where the hell are we?