[from here]

It was a race. A fight against patience and a Song's call. Still, the sedation's dredges churned through him. Two close at hand had a potent effect--much like the night that they were left in that town, and the morning after. Rubedo had came then. Came for them like something out of place, and wasn't that so ironic afterwards--when Albedo knew what he knew now? How many times would a twin appear to abandon him to harshly? How many times would Rubedo make promises only to break them--tear them to pieces like he did Albedo--in the perfectly precise way of those who knew how to break you down because they knew you so perfectly.

Was that how Rubedo had killed him? Or had Albedo forced him to it? His twin wouldn't say before, and asking now was too much like dead blood rotting in veins--he no longer cared, no longer needed to know how easily it was for his twin to rip him asunder. How joyous Rubedo must have been. If that night was any hint, his twin hated him with a passion to rival man's hatred toward god. And wasn't it the same. This. In ways it was the same. An existence meted out, for what it's worth, and then you were simply trapped in it. Trapped in it and stuck stagnant where you were, bound by that other, unless you forced your hatred forward to strike down the other.

To kill god? It seemed too quaint to entertain.

Be it that he woke as the last shift was ending, Albedo had been escorted to the cafeteria early. He took what was offered without a word, sat in the back without a sound, and sipped at the water put in front of him politely; a hand curled around the cup lightly, fingers loose. Eyes burned into the entrance--for Nigredo or Rubedo, either would suffice. The doubt that his twin would come to him was faulty--to ignore them for a week and then vanish as if they were nothing spoke of only distain, whatever Nigredo chose to believe. The eldest of them hated them both. This was truth. The only truth that Rubedo had shown Albedo, in thought, word, action, and deed, in the two weeks that they had shared here.

So Rubedo was to kill him. Well. Never say Albedo accepted his destiny. Yes, he would die by his twin's hand. But first he would rip Rubedo's throat out, claw out his eyes and press them into his beloved's mouth--see the lies you spew--lift his tenderly beating heart for all to see and then crush it.

This, Rubedo, is what you've done to me.

[...for the twin.]

There were very few activity shifts, Cloud was sure, that could possibly make him feel more like he was being treated like a child. He took a seat at one of the tables and blankly examined the materials set out before him. A pair of the dullest scissors he'd ever seen were labeled 'ages 3 and up'. It was good to know where the patients stood in this.

He wasn't much of an artist, and he ignored most of the paints and other drawing utensils in favor of a few sheets of colored paper and instructions on how to make origami. That sounded vaguely familiar. Didn't Yuffie have throwing weapons made out of paper at some point? It was something to do anyway, and thus Cloud began the process of crafting what ended up being very elaborate paper wads.

Sadly, his attempts to keep from dwelling on the subject of his missing friend failed when he realized this was something Aerith probably would have enjoyed greatly. Tonight, he and Yuffie would go out and try to accomplish... something. It was depressing to think there really might not be anything they could do, that they might all end up the same as the flower girl eventually.

[for a hopefully more optimistic materia thief]

Edward was glad to wake up to a period of respite. While he had been conscious during breakfast, he'd requested to remain in his room for extra "sleep", which had consisted waiting until the room was vacated to ingest the vial of Venom's blood. The vampire had lost his chance last night, but that might have been for the better; this way he wasn't in a rush to examine the flavor, as somewhat repulsive as that sounded. Even though he was primarily concerned with getting a meal instead of trying to divine what chemicals could be in the patient body as a whole - if any were at all - he was taking his job seriously, as he knew the risks Venom was already taking with him

He didn't like debts, after all. He was still trying to make up for his first transgression against the assassin.

The blood was familiar to him, but he could find no difference in it from the first time he had drank from Venom. Though his sense of taste was probably lacking compared to what it had once been, Edward couldn't sense any chemical that shouldn't have been a part of it. It was just... blood.

After the vial was emptied, he'd been sure to shove it back into the pillowcase stashed in the closet, as long as shoving the shotgun under his mattress. He was actually surprised the weapon was seemingly so easy to hide; unless the nurses never entered the rooms to search through them, there was no way it should still be here. In a way, he was beginning to think of the rooms as a safe haven.

Though that thought couldn't be necessarily true. After all, when he awoke, Bella's blood wasn't staining his fingertips, and the bandages on his face had been removed as the cuts slowly healed themselves. Someone was changing them, and if he assumed he hadn't gained the ability to sleepwalk as well as sleep, well...

Lunch had already passed for the vampire if Venom's blood was anything to show for it, so he took his usual route through the line, promptly pushing the tray of whatever-the-hell away from him as soon as he sat down. This time he'd brought his journal with him, and though his memory was perfection itself he wanted physical evidence of what he had found in the institute after all. Mostly he was making a note for Bella - a picture of the blond man, the not-Zato, and sketches showing the way its form had changed subtly to reveal the nature of the beast. Assuming it was a beast, of course.

[For his killer bff.]

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

As expected, after the allotted amount of time had passed, the nurses started to move through the waiting rooms to inform the visitors that it was time for them to leave, whereas in the Sun Room King Kong was turned off and the staff quickly sprung to action to put the equipment away.

Meanwhile, the sound of intercom turning on cut into the hustle and bustle, but it was Lydia's voice which came through. "Mr. Landel is taking a quick nap," was all she said by way of explanation, as she seemed to be beyond making lengthy excuses for the man. "Nurses, once the visitors have said their goodbyes, escort the patients back to their rooms for dinner. Tonight there is steak and fries on the menu, with a slice of cheesecake for dessert and vegetarian options if requested.

"Enjoy your food and have a good sleep." Keeping it short, the intercom then turned off.

Again, there were choices. After leaving the child and the animal, Rei had followed again. When prompted where she wanted to spend time, the pilot had no preference. If they wished her to do something, they would place it before her. If they left her with options, she would take the ones they did not want. So her response was minimal, and so the nurse decided fresh air would do well to clear the girl's head.

Ayanami didn't necessarily mind. The place chosen was where the one called Kaworu Nagisa had first appeared in front of her, and only that fact forced trepidation. Yet, when she came upon the area, there seemed no one in sight. Just the ground, the trees, the water to glance familiarity. Ayanami moved from the nurse's side, her feet touching down on a pathway.

[Asuka]

Games. She honestly cared little for their existence, but among the list of activities available, this particular room had called out to Ange. Perhaps her decision had been the result of elimination: she didn't particularly like the idea of going outside nor fiddling around with the arts. And the girl certainly disliked the idea of hanging out in the Sun Room, watching pretty pictures dance across a screen.

The larger part of her, on the other hand, realized the decision to be deliberate. Perhaps she couldn't resist the prospect of objectives and rules, dice and pieces. Pawns and kings. Something about that, out of the many available in the institute, was familiar. Close to home.

When she entered the room, Ange paused at the threshold, content on surveying for the moment. The area was empty; it seemed no one, aside from a handful of spare nurses, had wanted to play with the objects housed within. An annoyed expression locked in place, and the girl began to walk around the perimeter in slow strides. If she was to be here for a couple of hours, she might as well do something.

[Free, no limits.]

The last thing Claude heard was the Head Doctor's voice faintly filtering into the corridors of the ship before he found himself tucked beneath the sheets of his bed. It took a moment to register he'd even changed locations, but then he he abruptly sat up, fought the wave of nausea that washed over him, and felt the blankets beneath his fingers. The room. He was back in his room now. Under different circumstances, he might have wondered if last night had been some horrid dream, but the sharp pain in his eyes gave him a rude awakening. Hissing through his teeth, Claude buried the heels of his palms against his lids, only to discover two cold compresses had been taped over them.

"Good morning, Thomas," he heard the nurse's cheerful voice from beside his bed. Her sudden presence nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he sharply turned toward the source of the greeting, heart beating rapidly in his chest. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well today, but hopefully you can still enjoy some of the activities we have planned."

'Not feeling well' was a bit of an understatement. His hand hurt, his stomach kept turning with every movement, and it felt like someone had dumped a bunch of sand into both eye sockets. Right now, Claude just wanted the nurse to leave him be, but it didn't look like that was an option. Taking his uninjured hand, she gently tugged him out of bed, despite his protests that, no, really, he just wanted to stay in and sleep, please.

"I think getting out of your room a little bit will do you good," she told him. "I'm sorry your eyes are probably hurting, though. If you're ever feeling uncomfortable, don't hesitate to ask one of us for some pills."

"What about eye drops?" Claude asked tightly.

"Oh, no, too much of that could damage your eyes," she cautioned, and the sheer irony of the situation hit Claude so hard that it would have been laughable if he didn't already feel like crying right then. The nurse was as oblivious to it as always, however. "I know you usually go into the chapel during this shift. Would you like to go there again?" Claude didn't answered immediately, but that didn't deter the nurse. "Yes, I think that sounds best..."

In truth, he probably should have requested the sun room -- it was closer, for one, which meant the nurse didn't have to lead him as far of a distance. For another, lying down on one of their sofas sounded like a good option. But by the time Claude came to that conclusion, he was too stubborn to say anything, and he made his way up to the second floor, his footing slow, but steady.

The nurse deposited him on one of the central pews, next to the aisle, before leaving him to himself. Thankfully, it was still early in the shift. As he paused to listen, the room was mostly silent, save for the footsteps and hushed voices of the occasional staff member or patient who trickled in. But it was probably only a matter of time before others came. For some reason, the thought of being stuck in a crowded room made him tense, not necessarily because he thought anyone would pay him any mind, but because he simply didn't want it right then.

Somehow, the full implications of what happened last night hadn't sunken in: experiments, healing himself, the issue of whether he could actually go home after this, not being able to see, the ship, father. Instead, he just felt saturated with all of it, paralyzed by the horror of what they'd done to him, and the uncertainty of what it all meant beyond this moment. Claude took a shuddering breath, uninjured hand balling into a fist in his lap.

[For Guy.]

[From here.]

It was a sad thing to know that Sync had experienced more in the four years he lived than most people did in their entire lifetime. He'd long since been desensitized to the idea of death, and anything associated with it was often met with a scoff or sneer.

Falling wasn't a foreign concept either. After all, he'd left the world like that once already, so there was no point in getting worked up over it again. In the end there was very little that could shake the God-General, and he preferred to keep it that way.

But this? This he didn't expect in a million years.

Sync was suddenly hit with another wave of vertigo as he moved out of the closet, vision momentarily blurring the moment he stepped outside. His stomach lurched forward when his foot connected with nothing but air, almost as if the whole floor had just given away beneath him. Sync had lost his balance, twisting out of reflex in order to grab hold of anything nearby. However, his hands grasped nothing but air, and with that the God-General fell backwards entirely.

"GAH!"

But it didn't stop there. Everything had disappeared, the once cramped hallways having already transformed into something else entirely. The next thing he knew the wind was rushing past his ears, hair whipping angrily against his face as he plummeted from the sky. Sync looked about wildly, for once shock and horror marring his features as his brain desperately tried to catch up with everything else.

Just what the hell was going on?!

[ from here ]

Most people would have been a little wary, or at least curious as to why this part of the hallway seemed to be completely abandoned. However, Rolo was almost pleased by the quiet and stillness, even though he had a feeling it meant something was wrong. So, it wasn't something to be happy about, he guessed, but...

It was nice to keep the distractions down to a minimum. This section of the main hallway was as uneventful as the rest of it, and since his companions were respecting the unspoken rule of silence that the group imposed on itself, this trip was almost pleasant. Almost. Rolo took another glance behind him to see if Stephen and Greta were also following him. Unfortunately, Stephen was, and fortunately, Greta was.

"... Almost there," He muttered, though it was mostly to himself. Once they reached the doctor's offices, as long as he didn't look like he was doing anything too interesting, he was sure Stephen would get bored and wander off. Or he could get bored and start something.

Damn, he hated that guy.

[From here]

As far as Yuffie could remember, the journey was a straight shot over to the central section of the main hallway; that'd put 'em directly across from the sun room, and then it'd be a quick right turn into the only door. Easy peasy. With her shuriken and the two SOLDIER dudes—Cloud totally still counted, only not—in tow, the little ninja led the way through the doom n' gloom.

Past the stairs, past the waiting room. There we go. "It's just through here," Yuffie said when they were close enough. "We'll be in the entry room. There's two file rooms, one on the left, one on the right."

[from here]

When he rounded the corner into the larger hallway, Kurogane determined to put the thoughts of being the only patient there aside. Even if that were the case, it didn't change his final goal for the night. The magician would have been helpful, but he was confident enough in his own ability to get things done.

Finding the feather remained a difficult task though. The basement had been less than helpful when it had come to locating the source of this place's power. But the third floor... no one had ever been able to reach it, yet they all knew it existed. The outside of the building proved enough. They just had to find the way to get up. If that meant forcing a hole through the floor, then fine, because right now it was the last place to go.

[gone here]

[From here]

Maybe she should go snatch up her patient file? Possessions, too. Yuffie'd never say no to free stuff, even if it was a bunch of crap from a lie of a life. If she was lucky, she'd get somethin' handy. Handy like a cellphone, or, hell, even a laptop! Yuffie wasn't a technical genius at the best of times, preferring to leave all that stuff to Reeve and the guys in R&D, but if she could get 'em up and working, they'd be like a gift straight from Leviathan.

[To here]

Her roommate was gone.

Whether she was released-gone or dead-gone, Yuffie didn't know. No way to find out, either; not until dayshift. And, honestly? While Yuffie was curious—hard not to be!—she was torn. Should she look into it? Should she just leave it? It wasn't like she even cared.

As she finished pulling on her own clothing, Yuffie elected to hold off on any investigation, and to not go raiding through the woman's stuff. It'd lead to trouble, trouble that she could do without landing herself in. Sen was connected with Okita, and Yuffie wasn't in a hurry to lose that guy as a casual, fair-weather ally. He had a good fighting spirit, skill with a sword, and an appreciation for pranks. Only mega-huge downside was the psychobitch tendencies and his feud with Kenshin.

After a quick inventory (knives, check, shuriken, check, pipe-cleaner, check, other miscellaneous bits and pieces (flashlight not included), check, candy, check!), it was time to go.

[To here]

Scott had barely gotten a few feet out the door of Tasty Burger when the nurses started blaring their megaphones and shuffling people back indoors. He was definitely getting just a little tired of this, not least due to the dazed and confused mood he had been in since breakfast. Would he get any chance to just walk down a street in a straight line again today? What if he liked the rain, huh? Did the nurses think about that? ...Okay, he didn't like the rain, but that was beside the point. The point was that seeing more of the town was turning into pretty much a non-option.

He was caught by a nurse in front of the door to a local toy shop, and before he could get out so much as a protesting yelp, he was hurried inside with a strong, encouraging shove.  Great, thought Scott, reluctantly peeling off his coat again as he wandered down one of the back aisles and resigned himself to staying. What am I gonna do in here? It's a toy store in Outer Bumblesticks. What are they going to have to keep my mind off things? Dolls? Tin soldiers? Teddy bears? This is gonna su— "HEY is that Godzilla?"

Sure enough, it was. Or rather, it was a large Godzilla action figure sitting on a shelf just ahead of him. The toy was wired into the box good and tight, but the front was open to allow kids to test out the toy's arms and sound before buying. Drawn inexorably to the blinding red "TRY ME!" written on it, Scott pulled the box down and pressed the button on the back of Godzilla's head. 

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

The roar was small and tinny, but it made Scott grin a little.

"Heheh."

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

"Heheheheh."

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

"Hee. Oh Godzilla, you wouldn't leave me, would you?"

"AAEEEEEAAAAARRRR."

[For Mothra Peter Parker. Stein can come too.]

Unusually for her, the bus ride had been a quiet one--apparently her seatmate hadn't been feeling very talkative, so Meche had just eaten her breakfast and dozed on the way into town. Once the buses let them off at the park, she didn't see anyone waiting for her, and even with the hat this weather wasn't doing her hair any favors. She headed quickly toward the town, deciding that if someone was looking for her, they might as well do it somewhere dry.

She didn't get far before the obvious signs of vandalism stopped her in her soggy tracks. "But I thought--" Meche began to herself. She didn't bother to finish the thought. Dr. Wilson had said he wasn't sure when she'd bluffed about there being vandalism in town, but how could he not be sure about broken windows and spray-painted smiley faces?

This place just kept getting stranger, Meche thought as she walked on. She started toward the pet shop but decided against it halfway there. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know if the corral was empty. Instead, she went straight from the park and found herself in front of the bookstore. It looked like a cozy place to keep dry, and she'd never been there before--actually, Meche realized she'd only been to a handful of places in town, most of them while she was busy trying not to get her brains eaten. Well, she'd go exploring today.

She went in, calling out a polite good morning to the colorfully-dressed woman behind the counter, and was soon lost in the stacks.

[for Remy]

[From here.]

Easily forgiven? Unlikely. A pair of (presumably) mental patient committing theft. No, it was highly unlikely they would be easily forgiven. Conscience-wise? It wouldn't even stain his thoughts, really. Nothing like ten years of judgemental slaughter to make your mind jaded against the simpler crimes in the world.

Either way, it could prove to be... okay, he didn't want to say fun because not much about Venom was even slightly amusing (and Edward was very much ignoring the teenage part of him that was all ready to rebel), but it could prove to be adventurous. Especially since he didn't have the agility nor the power to make the feat easy. Having Alice play the stock market wasn't exactly the most hands-on way of stealing after all. It couldn't really be called stealing, after all... it was just using her naturally-created gifts to further the family's fortune.

So his morals were a little skewed. That was okay with him.

Once he'd left the polluted bus behind him - fresh air, thank god - he smiled to see the sky completely overcast, the smallest drops of water misting through the air. He shrugged into the obnoxiously bright raincoat he'd been given, tucking the coupons and the untouched breakfast into one of the pockets, covering his face with the hood. The suit he was wearing was a little worse for wear, but the vampire wasn't exactly looking forward to marching around damp.

Waiting just off to the side for Venom, Edward surveyed what he could see of the town so far. It didn't seen very big... which was good, he supposed. That way it would be easier to navigate. Now that the first order of business had been planned, they would need to find the right outlet for their theft opportunity.

"I look like a hobo," Yuffie whinged.

"You look lovely," her nurse consoled.

Yuffie was having none of it. "Hobos aren't lovely," she argued. "They're smelly and gross and they try to steal your small change." And then they realize who you are, and why they've suddenly got their feet jammed up the exhaust pipes of two separate trucks. And then they wet themselves (though that might've just been the cheap booze they'd been guzzling; she hadn't stuck around to find out).

Plucky sighed, ushering Yuffie firmly onto the bus. "Sit by the front," she said, still affecting that disconcertingly soothing air. "In case you feel ill."

In case? In case? "There's no 'in case' about it! You could always let me walk, y'know. Or, like, hook up a skateboard to the back of this bolt-bucket. That'd be mad cool, huh, don'tcha think? Near death-experiences always did help keep dinner down the trap-hole." Well, it was true. They did help, adrenalin being awesome like that. Unfortunately, Plucky was a prude, stubborn, and a complete party-pooper. All she did was shove a breakfast bag into Yuffie's hands—orange juice, thank gawd—before gliding away.

Left alone, it was all Yuffie could do not to fall into the biggest sulk of the century. If she didn't look like a hobo, she at least looked like she'd crashed into three separate wardrobes and come out wearing whatever fell on her first. And, and! And, the jeans! Why in Leviathan's name would anybody consent to wearing something so restrictive? They were like death in denim form.

Admittedly, part of her ire—most of it—was down to how far she'd gotten last night.

Because she hadn't. Gotten far. At all. Ugh!

She dropped her head forward, then knocked it back once, hard, against the seat. It's just one of those things, she could hear her old man say. Nothing you can do, he'd add, so you might as well go along with it. Crotchety, senile old jerk, always talkin' like he had the answer to everything right there in the palm of his hands. What a dumb way to live.

[Kurogane?]

[From here]

Who needed flashlights when you had mad ninja skills?

Yup, Yuffie was good. All senses primed and ready for action, just in case any action decided to come along and, y'know, happen. Which was about as likely as Barret turning up with a basket of posies and a bottle of blueberry wine.

She kicked back against the wall a few meters away from the door, shuriken half behind, half to the side. There were no shadows deeper than any of the others for her to dramatically skulk around in yet, so she shrugged off the reflexive urge to seek one out. She'd give it a couple of minutes, to see if John (or anybody else interesting) turned up, and then she'd move on. The night waited for no-one, least of all when you were under the thumb of a madman who thought regular, predictable wake-up calls were for lesser beings.

Which they kind of were, but that wasn't the point.

[From here]

Since Landel's idea of fun usually rivalled Hojo's, Yuffie tried really hard not to find the dull, monotonous, tedious stretch of hallway boring. Boring was good. Boring was… boring. Boring, boring, boring.

She had to wonder how people did it. Living in the same place, second after second, day after day, spiralling out into weeks and months and years. A while ago she might've gone totally psychonuts within a week or two. Now she was pushing on three, and wanderlust was threatening to choke her. Good thing she'd be getting out for a while tonight, especially after last night's fail-fest.

In a desperate bid to spice things up a little, Yuffie slipped into a playful not-routine. A ninja-y walk turned into a ninja-y skip n' hop, into an aerial cartwheel, into a back tuck-pike-layover set that brought her to the wall beside the door. "Not too shabby," she congratulated herself. She'd had years upon years of practice keeping her shuriken in hand during gymnastics routines, but with the Institute being what it was, a bit—okay, a lot—of practice was gonna come in handy.

With a twirl for flair and a bounce for fun, Yuffie slipped out of the women's block.

[To here]