Once she'd found she wasn't in any danger whatsoever of hopping aboard the Pukemobile, Yuffie had gotten kinda peckish. She'd ditched the bagged breakfast ages ago, way back on the bus, and, haha, like hell was she trekking back over that way to get it. Too much to see in a town without a lot in it.

So, here she was. Sitting at a plastic table in a plastic chair, in the almost completely plastic 'Tasty Burger', with fries, chicken strips, and a banana shake to wash it down with. Yuffie wrinkled her nose, more put off by the Eastern-style 'meal' than the reproachful stares of the staff and patrons. The latter she was way, way more than used to. Came with the job description. All of the job descriptions.

"Should've gone to the Twin Pine," Yuffie muttered around the (plastic!) straw, slumping forward onto her damp, denim-clad elbows. Taking a long pull of vaguely banana-flavored gloop, she cast a deft, if bored, eye around the establishment. As always, she'd gone for the most strategic seat; one that let her see as much as possible, without cutting off her access to at least one viable escape route. Not that she wanted to look at the place. Eurgh.

It was still hard to reconcile how this place should have looked with how it did look. Quick repair jobs were one thing, but something about the set-up rubbed Yuffie the wrong way. It was the same the whole town over. Chips, here and there, cracks in windows and doodles on walls. But no scorch marks, no sign that there'd been a no-holds-barred battle tearing up the place from top to bottom. The residents were pissy and suspicious, but not in that way—not in a way that'd suggest they remembered what they'd done, what they'd turned into, and what the patients had done in return.

[Cloud and Nanaki~.]

Lingering around where the buses were parked made him feel too much like a lost tourist—especially with that woman looking at him like that—so Sam headed off to the park instead. Not too far since he knew Dean would want to see him. Not for anything specific, obviously. It'd just always been automatic to find each other after whatever crazy stuff happened to go down in the night.

Though what they were gonna talk about this time was beyond him. Oh sure, he could ask Dean what went on last night and Dean would probably ask him the same (to which he'd leave out any mentions of Ruby), but that only took up so many minutes. Then what? The job? Not much hunting was getting done. Just another thing that bothered him because yeah, being surrounded by the supernatural wasn't anything new, but a few memorable occasions aside, they looked for these things, not the other way around. Picking up a job or chasing down a trail wasn't the same as having that trail chase you down. It was hard to appreciate the role reversal.

Besides, any discussion of all of this was superficial at best. They were talking around things, not about them, and he knew Dean must've noticed, too.

Still. Screw it. Maybe it was time he pushed all that aside. Dean might've already made the deal—hell, for all Sam knew, Dean's contract might already be up—but he didn't remember the last year. They could...start over, as much as they were able to. Wasn't that the whole reason why he'd decided to keep all this quiet? To make sure Dean didn't have to deal with his crap?

Frowning to himself, he leaned back against a tree, resting his foot flat against the trunk. The skies were seriously looking grey and heavy, but man, he almost wanted to say he missed getting caught in the rain or other generally bad weather conditions. There was something so insanely controlled about the institute, it creeped him out. Kinda nice to see that at least the weather was one part that hadn't gone all The Giver on them.

Well. That and a communal breeding program. Presumably.

[say hi, big brother. :( ]

"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?]

Luckily for Mele, the night had ended before Tenzen had changed his mind and deemed Mele appropriate for target practice. Even if the situation of who was mocking who had seemed to change into the Iga ninja's favor. Despite her behavior, perhaps the insolent woman could serve some sort of use nonetheless. He had been trapped in this place for a week by now, he would not accomplish anything on his own.

A week was a long time, a lot could have happened. Of course, he was thinking of the war, the bloody clash of two rivaling ninja clans, whose hatred had gone back for four hundred years. After that infuriating peace treaty had been broken, he, too, could finally release the hatred. And despite their losses, Tenzen had been certain that the Iga clan - no, that he would be the one to remain standing.

Four had remained on both sides a week ago...had the remaining Kouga already been killed? Or had they somehow succeeded in disposing of the remaining three Iga (excluding himself) during his absence? Of those three, two were blind. The situation was not a favorable one, and with himself trapped here before he could return from death, he had to wonder if the Kouga had removed the name 'Yakushiji Tenzen' from the scroll and would believe they had eliminated all of Iga's chosen ten.

The thought - along with no manner of telling this - was enough to make his jaw tighten. The longer he would remain here...

But as unfuriating as it was, it would not help him return. After confirming the presence of the scalpels he had retrieved, a nurse entered his room to escort him to the cafeteria for ridiculous Western breakfast. Unfortunately, the same ridiculous food was the only source of nutrition.

Upon entering, the ninja noticed he was the first to arrive to the area. After deciding on a salad rather than these so-called 'pancakes', he moved to one of the many vacant seats.

[Free to a good home. No limits!]

[From here.]

If he was going to brave it alone, he might as well have something sturdier than a flashlight. Roxas guessed he didn't really have much choice on that former point: his roommate was gone, he had no idea where Luxord was, and the hallway he'd come from was totally deserted. Given his situation, he didn't really trust anyone to hold their own anyway. If he ever did run across a monster, at least. He was still curious if they were Heartless - was there any other sort of monster? But if that was the case, he couldn't destroy them. Not with the chance that doing so might release more hearts.

So it was the bathroom he went to, estimating that maybe he could jack a piece of pipeline or... something. It was the closest room he hadn't looked around, so it was the first place to go. If anything had been drilled to him in the Organization, it was that even basic observations were important. Recon. His favorite sort of mission.

The bathroom at first glance was pretty simple. The door hadn't been opened, but the Nobody still pushed it slowly, just in case someone was inside. There wasn't anyone in there, but there was a whole lot of nothing interesting - blue and white tiles, two lines of sinks. A line of mirrors. He stopped for a moment to stare at his face in the reflective glass, noting the untied drawstrings at his neck and the spiked bangs that stuck out from under the Organization coat's hood. It wasn't often Roxas looked at his own face... and for some reason, it reminded him of something. Someone?

He shrugged. Below the sinks were what he'd come to find, but they were small and, when he tried pulling, stuck in hard. Was the struggle really worth it? The pipes were flimsy at best, and he wasn't sure they'd last against anything larger than a Shadow... if that.

Once again the doors had opened. Cloud believed most of what Yuffie had told him, but it was still unreal the way this place operated. They were clearly being tested, mocked, or both with the nightly routine, yet they didn't have many other options but to take the chances they were given.

Still unarmed, but hopefully ready to deal with anything, the blond nodded a goodbye to his roommate before stepping out into the hall with nothing but his flashlight. Yuffie's room was in the single female block, which was on the other side of the block he was currently in. It wouldn't take long to get there, but knowing that creatures could attack the patients even within the patient block caused him to keep his guard up right from the start.

[to here]

[from here]

Hallway? Check. Toolbox? Check. Flashlight turning him into a walking target? Check.

Destination? Shit, he knew he'd forgotten something.

The thought of going back, finding his beer, and seeing if there was enough left for a mild buzz was tempting. Really fucking tempting. Pull the covers up over his head and let the world spin without him. But he'd done that last night and he hadn't woken up with his face pressed to a shag rug. Trying to climb inside a hefty bag because someone had turned down the thermostat and attached as much of a diatribe as would fit on a post-it about foreign oil.

[to here]

The intercom jingle went off, mirroring the cheery voice that came out of the speakers soon after it.

"Hello, everyone, and I hope you found productive endeavors in both your music-making and your therapy sessions! Now, our nurses will be escorting all of you to your rooms and to your delicious dinners. Tonight, we're serving moist slices of turkey breast covered in gravy and served with mashed potatoes and grilled artichoke. Also available are our usual salad and drink choices, as well as a to-die-for devil chocolate cake dessert!

"...Mm, yes, I do think I'll have to partake in some of that myself! I trust you'll all enjoy it as much as I do, and I'll speak with you again shortly!"

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. ]

Peter woke up suddenly, his body twisting in the bed and then forcing him to catch his breath in pain. Pain, which was coming from his middle because of the thing that had scratched him last night, and after that...

After that, Zach had jumped in front of him like some kind of martyr, like the exact opposite of everything Sylar stood for, to take the next hit for him. It got pretty fuzzy after that, so night must have ended right around then.

The man let out a pained grunt as he straightened himself up in bed. For some reason, he got the feeling that he'd slept in. There was no way for him to really tell without a window in the room, but he just knew. The fact that Sam's bed looked long since vacated was another clue.

Sam, but was he Sam again? Had the brainwashing worn off, as he and Roland had hoped, or was he going to have to go through this nightmare for even longer? He didn't know how long he could handle "Zach" and "Harrison" before he started going batty himself.

Pulling himself out of bed, Peter lifted his shirt and saw that he was tightly bandaged. The scratch most likely wasn't nearly as bad as the bite that "Zach" had received, but it still smarted. He let his shirt fall and then had to deal with a nurse chiding him for sleeping through the morning announcements. Not that Peter really cared at the moment. He was too busy thinking about last night and the fact that in a way, he now owed something to Sylar. Except it hadn't been Sylar. That was something he was sure of now.

Lost in his thoughts, Peter reached the Sun Room right as the rest of the patient populace was trickling in from breakfast. Sighing to himself, he headed over to the bulletin board and then saw a note written in familiar yet unpleasant handwriting. Holding his pen in a vice grip, Peter scribbled out a reply and then stalked over to an armchair and fell into it with a huff.

While Sylar was maddeningly frustrating, there was one good thing about the fact that he was himself again. It meant that Nathan was too.

[For Spock!]

The intercom's jingle signaled yet another announcement.

"And our excellent behavior continues! Well, I am extremely impressed indeed!

"In any case, it's time to stop our socializing, unfortunately, and for the patients to return to their quarters for dinner. Be aware that new roommates have been assigned due to our influx of new patients and discharged old ones, so please be hospitable should you find yourself with someone new!

"As for dinner itself: tonight, we'll be serving shrimp and vegetable tempura along with delicious chicken teriyaki. Yum, yum, yum! As sides, we will also be serving boiled, salted soybeans, rice, and of course the appropriate soy and tempura sauces. Our regular assorted drinks and vegetarian substitutes are also available.

"I hope you enjoy your meal!"

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. Find new room assignments here. ]

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

[from here]

Now this place, Tokito kinda liked. It really was just like a McDonald's. There was even a ball pit! Though it was pretty crowded with what Tokito assumed were locals--but how could he tell, since everyone was in normal clothes today?--it was a kind of crowded that he could deal with; everyone had their own thing going, their own friends or family or food, and they weren't too interested in bothering other people, especially strangers.

So Tokito pulled out the coupon for the Tasty Meal (and ice cream!) and approached the counter to order.

[also, free for poking]

Shiki was a little disappointed. When she heard the words 'field trip', she had expected the town to be a whole lot bigger. How could you even go shopping properly in a town like this? There needed to be a whole lot more stores, she decided. Two department stores, boutiques, and a record store, at least.

She walked down the main street. Maybe she'd stumble into something.

Rukia filed out of the bus with the other prisoners, shivering a little in the cool autumn air. She was a little irked that the nurses hadn't given her mittens on this trip. Forced to stuff her hands in to the pockets of her jeans, Rukia hunched her shoulders and wandered to the edge of the park before turning around to look for anyone she knew.

Nurses and orderlies were already milling about, supervising and watching the prisoners. Rukia's plan was to get a hold of something - anything - that she could use as a weapon when they returned to the Institute that night. It would be difficult with so many staff members around, but she was determined; the last thing she wanted was to be trapped on the buses again with no weapon.

Drawing himself up and out of bed, Hohenheim gathered up his supplies for the evening and fixed his glasses back upon his nose. He flicked on his flashlight and looked around the room. He slipped the radio into his pocket in hopes of hearing some good information, but he was expecting a bit of a busy night if all of his theories came true. He was looking forward to one aspect but not the other.

Ah well. He couldn't have everything go his way. He needed to get moving in order to make good use of the night. He really needed to explore this place as well, but he could do that if there were no good books in the library.

Heading out into the hallway, he set off.

[To Here]

The intercom came on, and as it did, it seemed to carry a little more interference than usual for a daytime announcement, a little more static. While the patients might have thought for a moment that once again the elusive woman on the radio had hacked into the Head Doctor's system, the man himself soon proved that theory faulty as he laughed over the broadcast.

"Hello, hello, everyone, and I'm sorry for the bad quality of this broadcast; we've been having some technical difficulties lately, you see, and we wanted to make sure everything was fixed by tomo...."

His voice crackled out into inaudibility for a moment before fading back in.

"Yes, hopefully that will be done soon. In any case, now's the time that you all head back to your rooms to enjoy a delicious meal... seasoned salmon! Yes, we have filets of very tasty, very juicy salmon seasoned with herbs and garlic; on the side, we have mashed potatoes, peas, and to drink, our usual assortment of beverages. For dinner, you'll all be enjoying vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce."

The intercom's broadcast crackled again. The Head Doctor laughed, seemingly a little nervously.

"Ah, yes, perhaps we'll be able to finish the repairing tomorrow, when all of you are away at... Doyleton! Yes, yes, you're all in for a fun and exciting day, a day whose activities will be new for some and a welcome familiarity to others. You'll be under strict supervision, of course, but... well, I suppose you'll find out all about the circumstances tomorrow, before you set off, mm? Yes! In any case... I hope you all enjoy dinner!"

The intercom clicked off again as the nurses began ushering patients back to their quarters.

[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post. (You can find your character's room assignment here.) Remember, everyone responds to this post with their character's room number in the subject line. ]

Albel had wasted an entire night, but he couldn't quite figure out how he had actually wasted it. He had left his room early, didn't stand around doing nothing and no pathetic worm had dragged him down. Finding Fayt's room and smack the foolish maggot against the nearest wall shouldn't have taken a full night, but yet he found himself back in his bed before he even had so much as located the right door.

What the hell?!

But he didn't have much time to think about it, as one of the wenches instantly stepped into his room as soon he sat up. Had she had been waiting behind the door or something? He ignored her useless babble along the way to the showers. Apparently, he had slept through most of the day. Perhaps the lack of sleep was taking it's toll, though the warrior wouldn't even think about admitting that thought. And who cared about it anyway? The days were useless!

By the looks of things, Albel was the first one to arrive. Not that he cared. After stripping himself of his clothing he stepped inside the shower area and picked a stall by random. It took some fiddling with the knobs before the water temperature was good enough, but he eventually let the water wash over his body.

[Free!]

Yuffie bounced all the way through collecting her lunch, all the way to a good seat- one with a nice view of the whole cafeteria, which was something she'd been missing out on during the past day or so that she'd been stuck in the Institute- and hell, she even bounced into her seat.

A good mood? No, really?

Despite the occasional blip, talking to Sagara had been awesome. He was a fun guy; he wasn't a prude, didn't have a stick shoved so far up his ass it was poking out his eyeballs, and he'd actually had a conversation with her. One that hadn't revolved around doom, gloom or how much life sucked. If she could find other people like that and keep in touch with Sagara, maybe there was a little hope for this place.

After a quick gulp of pink lemonade, Yuffie settled to munching through her food and keeping an eye on the door.

[Waiting for Dean, I think? :x]

[Specifically M16]

Well, dinner did a lot of nothing. Chances were that Not-Noah would depart soon, so Luxord merely continued to pet Tyche (who had, by now, ceased her need to paw his chest in an attempt to make it softer or whatever reason cats did that and decided to curl up and sleep again). Knowing full well that he was lacking in the 'people who care' department, the Gambler already came to terms with the idea that no one would enter the room later, so he might as well sleep off the pain/pain-medication.

[from here]

A quiet night, with no other sounds of patients from this direction, although they might have just been focusing on being quiet as well. Mark hit the ground on both feet and one hand, not bothering to try to catch himself standing, although he stood quickly afterwards and glanced around. Even in the moonlight, it was hard to be sure things here were safe. Close to the wall for now, to allow the others to recreate their decided upon marching order. And to avoid letting anything sneak up against his back. Yesterday had been quick, and simple. Tonight had already failed to qualify as either.