Kibitoshin had never had a ‘haunt’ to know exactly what one was, but if he had to make a guess he would have supposed that the Bookworm was turning into one for him on their Doyleton trips. This was his third trip now, and yet again he’d returned to browse the shelves for books to browse through. He’d worked his way through a good portion of the romance section, skipping the less interesting-looking options and flipping through the rest out of curiosity; was that really how relationships were supposed to work? The books were in the fiction section, yes, but it wasn’t as though he had anything to compare them to on the scale of realism versus fantasy, what with the whole only-ever-living-with-four-other-people thing. And even then, they were—they had been (flinch) his siblings. It was hardly the same.

So, this time, the Kaioshin steered himself away from that particular area and towards the rest of the store. Maybe if he looked at a different genre he’d end up a little more savvy and be able to work it out for himself; as much as he wanted to know, he was also very aware of the fact that asking the nearest assistant whether or not romance novels were realistic came with the high risk of having said assistant laugh in his face. Or just make him look very, very odd indeed.

Where to look, then, if not there?

Pacing thoughtfully between the dark walls of books, he found himself drawn towards a section helpfully headed as “Self Help Books”. Did… that mean they’d be able to explain things to him, so that he could “help” him”self”? Because if that was the case, he had a lot of other questions that needed answering on top of that about Earth life in general. It was maybe too much to expect there to be information on other planets, but surely there would be something he could use in there.

With that settled, he ran his finger along the spines and pulled out the first promising title he came across: Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, by 'John Gray'. Well, that wasn’t right at all, he’d seen Mars enough times to know that…

[For... um... whatshisname.]

Rita awakened in a cold sweat that morning. What the hell was that all about!? It had to be a trick, like the moving shadows from the other night... It just couldn't be real.

In the end, no progress had been made. How much longer was Rita going to be trapped in this dump?

Speaking of dump, that was about the moment when a male nurse entered the room, carrying a pile of worn clothes that looked like they came right out of the trash. He dumped them unceremoniously on her bed, and with an unfriendly glance, ordered her, "Put these on."

"Would it kill you to ask nicely?" Rita sneered, pulling herself out from under the covers and crawling over to where she could look through the pile. There was a dark blue knee-length skirt, a pair of purple stockings that came up to about the knees, a pink blouse, blue jacket, and a pink scarf. This was for that 'field trip', then? Well, whatever. They didn't look as stuffy as the military uniform, so Rita put them on.

Once she was finished, she found herself being led outside to some large machines - no, vehicles? - which several other patients were being made to board. Rita had heard very little about the Doyleton trip, other than the fact that they were apparently going to visit some Earth town. There was something intriguing about that - being able to see something that perhaps no one else from her world would ever see - but it was also a distraction that was going to further delay her escape, and that was irritating.

The vehicle that Rita was brought to was empty at the moment, so she sat herself down by a window and started looking through the various items she had been handed upon boarding. The money card was especially curious, and she wondered how much the allowance would allow her to buy. She assumed very little, but she hoped ten dollars were at least worth more than ten gald.

[Free!]

Snow doubled in number as the day transitioned into the evening hours. Unfortunately, none of the patients were allowed the time to enjoy the weather changes. They were instead greeted by the telltale jingle of the intercom, signaling their cue to return indoors.

Once again, they heard the voice of a familiar female. She sounded unchanged from her previous announcements, her intonation as clear and as flat as ever.

"Attention all subjects and personnel. All subjects are to return to their assigned rooms for their evening meal. Lights Out will commence shortly after."

The woman paused, seemingly for effect.

"All personnel: you are to report to your stations. Thank you."

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. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Though five days without bathing was hardly unusual for Rita, she was actually looking forward to showering today. To her, the last shift had been somewhat enjoyable, if only because it allowed her an opportunity to be alone with her thoughts for a bit. Of course, she couldn't be completely alone in the communal showers, but no one was rude enough to disturb her in there, which was good enough for her.

Once the shift was over, she re-applied the bandages on her leg and knee, dressed herself, and made her way to the cafeteria. The pain in her knee seemed to lessen as the day progressed, and her slight limp became less noticeable to herself. Hopefully it wouldn't impede her much come nightfall.

Upon entering the cafeteria, however, Rita found that she had more immediate problems to deal with. What was that slop they were serving?

Deaf to her complaints, a soldier quickly ushered her into the line for the pink gruel. While waiting, Rita became aware of a section in the room where edible food was being served... but apparently only to selected patients. Whose butt did they have to kiss to get that treatment?

After receiving her "meal" (using the word very loosely), Rita found an empty area to sit in. There, she made no move for her utensils, but instead glared at the plate of mush as if the food itself had somehow wronged her.

[For Woody]

After what seemed like an eternity of being amused, irritable, bored, in pain, in excruciating pain, and any combination of those, Guybrush was met by the same soldier who had led him to the cafeteria. He wasn't offered a trip to the Sun Room to check the bulletin board, but didn't push for it anyway. That would have been more walking, and moving was one of those many, many physical activities he didn't feel like doing in any capacity. Not today... or until next week, or whenever he'd stop feeling like he'd been on a date with a rough manatee named Large Marge. There was a slow minute of him feebly getting to his feet, then he followed the soldier without comment.

The comment came when Guybrush was handed a leather jacket on his way out the door. "A fine leather jacket... hah." He hissed as he pushed his right arm through the sleeve, settling to just leave the left draped over his shoulder. It was then he noticed the embroidery. At least Aguilar had a decent budget for clothing. If the pants worked, he'd be set.

There was something to be said about the General's methods, though. Why make the people who hadn't been in the food fight do the cleaning, while letting the guilty ones stand around? Sure, he wanted everyone to know who was responsible for the punishment, but wouldn't that just-

Oh. Wow, now that was a new level of crafty manipulation. Even LeChuck could be proud of it, if he wasn't behind it in some way. His disappearance made it possible- even probable- that his showing-up-and-playing-innocent-human-kidnapee routine had been an elaborate rouse, one even more diabolical than creating a carnival with which to recruit unsuspecting tourists into his undead army, more time-consuming than using a Mighty Pirate™ to look for a voodoo-sucking sea sponge so he could... get his mojo back? Oh yeah- Guybrush had died before that one reached Chapter 5. But if Landel's Institute was something LeChuck had cooked up so he could woo Elaine From The Past and change the future, then it was way, way more complex than his previous schemes.

And if it wasn't some incredible plot LeChuck had hatched because he finally grew tired of having his plans foiled? That made things even more complicated.

Guybrush made his way toward one of the benches, sprawling across it as he leaned his head against the backrest. Was the wall higher today? Maybe that was the aching in his chest talking. Either way, he didn't think he'd be going over it in an attempt to Escape from Aguilar's Institute™ that night unless they added a wheelchair ramp.

[Morgan]

[From here.]

It was probably a good time to declare everyone legally dead, because this was the fourth hallway in a row. This was what being proactive felt like. Yes. He was going to roll with that. Proactive and paranoid as hell, that was him.

Paranoid enough to take out the pathetic little knife from the pillow case and clutch it around the handful of cloth. Maybe one day, Edward thought derisively, I'll be lucky enough to find night-vision goggles so I can stop wasting my time with the light. As soon as he thought it the flashlight flickered, the round yellow beam turning black before popping back on again.

What little blood he had in him drained from his face. "That was terrible of me, I'm sorry. You're a fine flashlight. Possibly the best."

[To here.]

[From here.]

The big connecting corridor. He may be in a rush, but this hallway deserved extra caution. What would he do if he tried to get to Stefan and ended up mauled on the way there? The first night when he'd smelled blood here, it was still a bit... haunting. It meant there was a chance of something lurking, dragon or not.

Dammit, he was trying to reminisce again. Less thinking, more walking (which, as things went, was actually a feat for a vampire. It came with the whole multi-tasking thing.)

Sweeping his light through the length of the corridor, Edward inspected every bit of wall the light touched, eyes darting like a bird's for any sign of movement. Still no patients. At least the stillness would make it easy to see any potential ambush. At least, that's what he was going to tell himself.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Judging from that announcement, the man who had spoken was not the general himself. Whoever that was had spoken about the general as if it was another person, so who did that make him? Was he just one of the officers? And if so, what made him so important that he got to make the announcements? These were the thoughts running through Sora's head as he moved from his own hallway into the one that would take him out of the block.

He was sure that more and more would be explained as the night went by -- or in the morning, if they really wanted to make them wait that long. But if crazy stuff was going to be happening tonight, then someone was probably going to chime in on the intercom.

Then again, could Sora even assume that much? Everything might work differently now that Landel was gone. Those same patterns didn't have to be followed. It was definitely disorienting.

Though one thing that hadn't changed was the layout of the building. (And he certainly hoped that didn't happen again.) The boy headed right for the door, knowing his way to the stairs like the back of his hand by this point. He might as well have been sleepwalking.

[To here.]

Having to endure an empty room for yet another night had Sora worried. Were they not planning to give him a new roommate? He didn't know how these soldier people worked -- would they rather that patients were left in their rooms alone? That didn't make much sense, but he really didn't know what to expect anymore.

Most people would have been glad to have a room to themselves, but Sora wasn't most people. He wanted someone there who he could talk things over with while he ate his dinner. Instead, he had eaten his meal in silence, still reeling from the announcement that Landel was being replaced. It was something he would have preferred to discuss with someone else rather than dwell on alone, but he could always do that when he met up with Kairi and Riku.

That was the one good thing he had going for the moment; Sora was glad that the three of them were going to be side-by-side once more. He was particularly interested in hearing what Kairi had to say, since she'd also been here for a long time.

His dinner was interrupted by IRIS coming on, and Sora frowned when the automated voice became distorted once more. A program was being initiated? What did that mean?

He'd expected for IRIS to continue through the whole night, but soon after that a more human voice was heard. But even as Sora tried to place it, he realized that it was new, totally different from Landel's usual loud tone. But there was still a threat in those words, still a hint that something was going to happen tonight. Sora had already counted on that. With everything that had happened, how couldn't there be?

He just hoped that he and his friends could manage to get somewhere even with the odds stacked against them. Sora quickly changed from his Landel's uniform into his more familiar clothes from home and then grabbed for his flashlight (while also remembering to take Venom's copied note at the last moment; he wanted Kairi to see it too).

Once he was ready, he quietly moved out of his room and headed down the hall.

[To here.]

The jingle of the intercom seemed ill-timed this round, a fact that was further pronounced by the pleasant voice following suit.

"Hello, patients. This is I.R.I.S. again. Due to technical difficulties, we are unable to speak to you directly at this time. Until the matter is resolved, we will be announcing the remainder of today's events from our automated service.

It is now time for everyone to retire to their assigned rooms for Dinner Shift. Tonight's menu consists of premium spaghetti with Landel's signature marinara sauce, garlic bread, and a side of Caesar salad. Our dessert for tonight is chocolate chip cookies. In addition, we will be providing the usual selection of drinks, and vegetarian alternatives can be made available upon request.

We again would like to apologize for any inconvenience. Please contact your nurse with any questions or concerns you might have. Thank you, and have a wonderful evening."

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. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

And thus concluded a perfect start to a perfect day. Making him explode from every facial orifice was a totally justified response to Peter not doing anything at all.

The nurses' hearts had defrosted just enough to permit them a change of clothes and a desperately needed wipe down. Nurse Joyce - Rachel had been apologizing the whole way back to his room through gritted teeth and steely side glares at the soldier stalking behind them. "So sorry, Tyler. Gassing children. I would have never thought it would come to that - but you were good, weren't you? You stayed under the table with your friend the whole time?"

"Flaht lodda gud id did meh," Peter had slurred through a mouthful of spit. He winced and squeezed another quadrillion tears from his eyes as he felt a string of snot drip onto his chin. His whole being ached with embarrassment.

Okay, yes, gassing was a common method for riot control. He knew this. Everyone knew this. But that so did not justify using it on a truckload of mental patients, half of whom couldn't legally drive and seventy five percent of which were currently incapacitated. Making people stumble around and fall on their broken limbs did not equal safe medical practice, no matter how hard they were rioting.

Not to mention getting gassed had totally cut off his conversation with this Gambit fellow. Whom he now had to spend some time sleuthing for, because Peter so did not trust random strangers with the deets on his secret identity. Even if they were friends with Logan. Especially if they were friends with Logan. Plus he had no idea whether or not Gambit existed in his sad, sorry version of the universe, and thus no way to check if he was a good superhero or a bad superhero. AKA super villain.

He sniffled, hand firmly perched under his nose to catch any leaks (or god forbid, more drooling) as he was marched against his will outside. Apparently this was under military orders.

They were going to shoot them, weren't they?

It seemed the purpose was a touch more innocuous than that, even if they were immediately assembled into an execution line. A soldier stepped up with a clipboard, Huge Douche written all over his face, and began calling out names. Peter lost interest and gazed miserably at the men standing guard behind him. They didn't seem to be in attack mode. That was a plus.

"Karmichael, Tyler!"

He wondered if they would stop pushing them outside soon. It was getting colder all the time, he thought with a shiver, rubbing his sling arm gently for warmth.

"Karmichael, Tyler!"

It sure was dismal out today.

"Karmichael, Tyler!!"

Oh right. "Here!!" Peter shouted, embarrassment flushing his face. Then his nose wrinkled with distaste. "Wait, my last name is Karmichael? What? That's a terrible-"

Huge Douche gave him an evil eye. "Answer when you're called for!"

"...Yes sir."

Yeesh.

That over with, Peter hastily consulted with his nurse and convinced her to let him back in the Sun Room. He just wanted to sit on a couch and grumpface at the world today.

[To here.]

[From here.]

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

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

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

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

[From here]

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

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

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

[From here]

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

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

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

[To here]

[From here]

Having reached the second floor without difficulties, it wasn't before long Xemnas emerged from the stairwell. He paused for the briefest of moments, seeking any disturbances of the silence and the unmoving darkness alike. Nothing leaped from the shadows, and even if others had, too, already made it to the second floor corridors, there were no sounds of battle drifting from other parts that would alert them of their existence.

Still tracing familiar steps, the Nobody moved into the direction of the connecting hallway that would lead him to his destination.

[To here]

[from here with Spock]

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

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

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

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

Goku made a strange noise of confusion when he heard this mysterious voice talking to him. It reminded him of last night when Marc had been talking to him from some unknown corner of the kitchen. He knew, however, that this wasn't Marc. The voices were different, but it was still strange. Standing up on his bed, the monkey boy began pacing the thin mattress until he pinpointed where the voice was coming from, or at least where he thought it was coming from. His mouth hung open as he gawked up at the weird box mounted high on the wall.

A sudden click and the darkness consumed the room, making Goku yelp in awe. The voice continued onward, and the kid couldn't help but smile. Well, gee that sounded nice! Goku liked surprises! He couldn't wait to get out there and find it!

"Oh..." But he needed a partner, Claire said so. He wasn't really sure where to find one, but he had found Spock last night luckily, so hopefully someone else would be there that he could follow around. Taking nothing with him, Goku exited his room and started waddling down the hallway without a care.

[To here]

The intercom jingle was slightly different for this shift, almost as if it had gone up in quality. The Head Doctor gave a sigh of relief, his own voice clear as a bell despite the usual electronic buzz.

"Hello, everyone – from our new and improved intercom system! We've had electronics rehauling our circuitry, and you can hear the result quite nicely! A whole bunch of improvement! Right, anyway...

"As I'm sure you've noticed, we have a whole new bunch of patients that have joined us recently, and because of the changes in our roster, we've updated our roommate assignments, so some of you might be enjoying the company of someone entirely new tonight! Please be polite and friendly to anyone you might encounter!

"Which brings us to... dinner! Tonight, we'll be having a delicious 'bento box' meal consisting of fish and vegetable tempura along with chicken teriyaki, a bowl of steamed rice, miso soup, salad, and... green tea! Decaffeinated, of course. We can't have you bouncing from wall to wall when there's sleep to be had! Our usual assorted drinks and alternative meals are also available. Oh, and... dessert! Green tea ice cream, with a topping of red bean paste.

"I think that's all for now! I'll speak to you once more before bed time."

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. Please refer to the updated room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Lunch had taken his mind from his worries, if only for a few minutes. But after the intercom sounded and the nurses began leading patients onto the next activity, one look at the bulletin board brought everything back in full force. No replies from Ashton, Dias or Dad. By now Claude felt like he was practically counting down until the end of the day, when he was going to have to finally grapple with the real possibility that most of his friends from before Landel's, as well as his own father, had fallen victim to the institute.

And now he was going to have to deal with his mother being here on top of that. It didn't seem like a coincidence that she'd show up right when his father's whereabouts were so up in the air. But what did it mean? Why couldn't Landel leave his family out of this?

Normally, the announcement about new video games would have made him perk up, but his eyebrows only knit together with concern as his nurse led him into the game room. That didn't seem to stop her from trying to get him to unwind, though.

"Oh, come now, Thomas, you've worn that expression for most of the day!" she told him with a frown. "Why don't you have a bit of fun now that your eyes are all better? I'm sure you could use it."

The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his "sleep studies", he darkly thought to himself. But before he could protest, his nurse had sat him down in front of one of the television screens. There was an old gaming console, one Claude had never seen before, and he glanced at her with a confused expression. "Go on," she encouraged as she placed one of the controllers in his hands. "I know how much you enjoy these kinds of things. Someone will come play with you soon, too, I'm sure. Doesn't that sound nice?"

He didn't have time to answer her, because she'd soon bustled off to tend to some of the other patients. Claude watched her leave with a sigh. He realized the daytime staff meant well, which made knowing what they turned into at night even worse to think about. But now he was just being negative for the sake of it, wasn't he?

Taking in a small breath, he reached over to the console and turned it on. As long as he was waiting for some kind of answer from the bulletin, there probably wasn't much he could do except pass the time. Claude watched the title screen appear on the television, his expression growing more curious in spite of himself. Super Mario Bros....

[For Prussia!]