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! ]

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]

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. ]

The previous shifts had offered much in the way of her own personal curiosity, but little in understanding the place she was in. Still, Renamon's mind had quieted; the irritation shifted into the back of her mind. Was it simply children that accomplished that? Or the kind of people that maintained their differences, and sated something in her. She sought to understood, and that had increased in her new surroundings. Learning had become some kind of peace. And in this alone, she could maintain her ever-present calm.

Refreshed in a way by this, and looking forward to the night--if the one called Brainiac was what he said, he of all people should be able to help Renamon in this--the Digimon took a seat off to the side in the sun room, content to simply be alone with her thoughts. But thoughts were too often overrun, and she took efforts to move away from the more heavy items. Dairine disappearing. Toph, Toboe. Orihime. And Rika.... Should Renamon be glad she didn't see her this last visitor shift? Or should this be more of a concern?

She closed her eyes, calming her mind. One thing at a time. There were no moves to be had until night came. So she would wait.

[Digimon Tamers, represent!]

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!]

For the second time, Rika found herself waking with a start. She blinked at the grey light streaming through the windows, and looked across the room. Anise was still asleep. So. I'm still here. Let me just check...

Rika put on her slippers and walked over to the desk, checking the drawer and breathing a light sigh of relief. Good, the knife was still there. She wasn't sure why it would be there - shouldn't they have confiscated the weapon? Either way, though, as much as she was reluctant to use it, she was glad to have it still there.

Just then, she heard the creak of the open door, and quickly closed the drawer. Her nurse peeked in, whispering, "Rachel? Time for breakfast. You should put on a sweatshirt, it's a bit chilly." Rika nodded, quickly adding the extra layer and following the nurse out into the hall and to the cafeteria.

She was used to a Japanese-style breakfast, so the idea of something sweet - which the nurse was avidly describing, with the waffles and fruit and syrup - was a bit odd. Once she walked in, though, she had to admit it smelled good. She filled her plate with waffles topped with blueberries, some sausage, and eggs, took a glass of orange juice, and took a seat. It seemed she was early, so she took a seat close to one of the windows and waited.

[For Ange.]

[From here.]

Dias had simply assumed things could only get worse - he was generally a pessimist, if only because there was at least a certain grim satisfaction in being right frequently - and he wasn't disappointed. Moving, and moving with urgency, was definitely making his wound bleed more freely; the sheet was completely plastered to his chest with blood by now, and he wasn't entirely certain how much good it was doing anymore.

And, of course, the hall was completely empty, from one length to the other; it was dark enough to make that not entirely discernable visibly, but the complete silence and just the sense of emptiness was enough to tell Dias that not only was no one in the hall, no one was even within hearing distance. And, really, could he have necessarily relied on assistance even if he'd found someone? He wasn't sure what kind of picture he'd make to an outside observer, but he was certain that it probably wasn't one which inspired confidence...and he, himself, had never been one for inspiring goodwill. Besides, he was pouring blood; he might as well be monster bait. There weren't many people in the institute he'd trust to help him in spite of the fact that he might bring an attack down on the heads of his rescuers, and of those he did, he certainly didn't know how to reach them.

Still, with bloody-minded (and bloody-everything-else) determination, Dias moved down to the far end of the hall, keeping one hand on the wall as the dizziness grew worse. He really doubted falling over could make things that much worse, under the circumstances, but he'd still prefer to avoid it.

When he reached the door, he paused, debating what he should do, and what he was actually able to do. He could press on a bit further, he was fairly certain...but he recognized that, if he did, there was no way he'd have strength enough to make it back to Guy. And Guy was even more helpless than he was at the moment - leaving him undefended, even if Dias himself was in no shape to do much defending, felt like...some sort of betrayal. Or at least a failure. If he couldn't find help, then Dias ought to at least be there to help Guy himself as much as, and for as long as, he could. And Guy had asked him to come back, as well...

With the indecision came hesitation, and in that lack of momentum, the lightheadedness took full advantage, his body suddenly cashing in checks he hadn't realized he'd been writing. The transition as he sank heavily to his knees took him entirely by surprise, and some consternation.

It didn't really feel like waking.

His breath came back to him slowly, and each bit of oxygen that he took in went down cold and numb. His whole body was numb, to the point that he wasn't even sure if he was really there. Where did people go when they died? He'd never known.

As his eyes (if that was really what he was seeing out of anymore) opened, he saw nothing but blackness in front of him. Was he standing up, lying down, floating? Did he exist? He had to. He could think, and he could remember the way those fingers had squeezed around his neck...

Another breath (a breath), and suddenly the pain in his throat started. It was sore the whole way round, almost like a broken bone—even though that made no sense. Slowly but surely, his sense of his physical form came back to him, and he realized that he was alive.

Alive and trapped.

His arms could still barely move (on top of possibly still being broken, they were numbed from the cold), and so Guy concentrated on moving his legs, waiting for the feeling to come back into them. They'd weathered the least damage in the battle, and so he used them to slide over cold metal and figure out his surroundings. He was in some sort of tube, completely enclosed, and it was only as he jammed his foot against the lower part of his cage that he realized he might be able to get out.

Actually forcing the door (if that's what it was) all the way open was going to be a feat, though. He banged his foot against it again, trying to force it to slide open. If only he could move his arms!

Then again, if he could, they would probably ache too much to do anything with. He realized he should be grateful for the general lack of feeling for now. When he really started to warm up again, it wasn't going to be pretty.

His mind was spinning, wondering how this had even happened, and yet right now he was just going to focus on getting out and figuring out where he was. From there he could try and answer the how.

[Warped in from here.]

When Guy's eyes opened, it was almost as if he was waking up, and yet he knew that wasn't the case; he was standing, with a weapon in his hand, and somehow feeling far more comfortable than he had in weeks.

His gaze was on his feet, and it took him a few seconds to let everything sink in. He was wearing boots. His boots. And while being back in familiar clothing wasn't so new to some people, it was definitely a big change for him.

His head then snapped up and he realized just what he was holding. It wasn't Ashton's sword, but his own, the Jewel of Gardios -- and on top of that, Guy realized that he felt more powerful somehow. Did he have access to fonons? He had been working without them for so long, but it was almost as if he could feel them in the air now.

All of those changes didn't matter as much when he took in his location. The sphinx had warned them, of course, but the huge coliseum still impressed him, and what was even stranger was the way sunlight seemed to be filtering in from overhead. Was it actually day? This almost felt like he was in some sort of dream.

But that theory was torn into shreds when he eyed Sync, also in full form, standing across the arena from him. So what, they were supposed to fight? Guy didn't have a problem with that (it was what he'd come down here intending to do, after all), but he knew there had to be some kind of catch.

As he glanced to the side, he saw that Claude and Dias were in similar positions, except facing each other. "Wait," he muttered under his breath. No way were those two going to fight each other except in a sparring capacity, so what was going on? He wasn't sure where Anise and that other girl had gotten off to, but maybe it was for the best that they weren't here...

[From here.]

"Can't you do anything right, Anise?" Sync wanted to make sure he rubbed in the fact that things could've gone better if she hadn't tried to ruin his plans. Of course, it wasn't like he actually cared. He was practically itching to kill something tonight anyway.

Once they were all in he turned around, using his foot to open the door as wide as possible before pulling back into the darkness. If Guy and Claude were going to attack him the moment they got through then he had to make sure he was prepared.

"Dahlia, get as far away as you can and keep your flashlight off," He said, all the while pulling out one of his oyster gloves from the waistband of his pants and sliding it onto his free hand. He'd deal with the other once he got rid of Anise.

[From here]

Dahlia made her way over to the fountain first thing and went to sit down next to it. Believe it or not, her feet were still aching from last night and just because this room never stopped being gorgeous did not mean she stopped being sensible. If there was something going on soon, she needed to be ready for it.

Hmph. More like ready to push either one of these brats into the fray instead of dealing with it herself. Either or, she'd need to rest for a little while. May as well drop her bag for now while she was at it, too; the strap was bugging the bandaged gash along her back.

She wasn't dumb though. She kept one of her hands on it just in case someone got grabby.

"So, um." She brought her other hand to her mouth, thinking to herself. Did she dare ask now? Or was Syncie going to keep some more secrets from her? "What do we do now?"

[from here]

They were making good time, but there wasn't anything good about that. With the entrance to the basement just ahead of them, Anise could feel her chest tighten with dread.

"You will find yourself able to enter so long as you are willing to make a sacrifice."

That's what that golden monster said before, right? There was no telling what kind of sacrifice it meant, but it probably wasn't anything small. If it came to that, she could be sure that Sync would be shoving one of them ahead to take the brunt of it. Maybe one of them would die. Maybe both of them would.

Anise felt a strong chill surge through her body as she thought about it, but maybe it was just the air inside the refrigerator. She stepped to the side, shuddered, and hugged herself for warmth. She remembered where the trap door was, but Sync could go find that himself. It wasn't like he had anyone stuck to his head this time, or anything.

[From here.]

Since there hadn't been anyone else in the Sun Room when they arrived, Sync figured they were the only ones that managed to get this far this early in the night. The God-General couldn't complain; after all, that meant less people getting in his way.

Still, he entered the Kitchen with the same cautious approach as the other rooms, keeping his eyes wide open in order to catch any sign of movement in the darkness.

"Looks like the coast is clear," Sync announced after a minute, looking over his shoulder at the other two and nodding.

[Running in from here]

Thankfully, that rambling from the Sun Room didn't come through any farther the Cafeteria doors. Half the time, she didn't know whether this building just wanted to annoy her or drive her insane. Either way, they weren't going to get what they wanted, not out of Dahlia Hawthorne.

It'd be a hot day in Heaven when she believed their cheery lies.

But in any case, they were out of the sun room now. Didn't that mean smooth sailing? Last time there wasn't any other pipsqueak in the way to their destination. And really, she could keep hoping there wasn't; if she wanted to see Sync get brutally murdered, she wanted it to be by his own devices, the idiot.

She tightened her grip on his hand and took a frightened glance over at Anise, pulling her flashlight back out to light the way. "What was that?"

[from here]

It looked like they were the first ones in the Sun Room this night. There weren't any monsters in plain sight, which was a good sign.

Or was it? Getting held up by a monster actually sounded kind of nice, for once. If it was strong enough, it could keep Sync busy - maybe even enough to derail his plans. Of course, it would also put their lives in danger, but they were in tons of danger anyway. Whoever said "better the devil you know than the devil you don't" obviously didn't know Sync the Tempest.

So even though Anise walked into the Sun Room with soft, cautious steps like she usually would, the girl inwardly found herself praying for someone or something to intercept them.

[From here]

Ugh, she was really gonna have to figure out a good way to strap the shuriken to her back. Keeping it constantly in hand was kind of reassuring, but it was also hella impractical. Practicality came before comfort, especially in a place like this. A whole bunch of her techniques had the shuriken starting out on her back; if that wasn't an incentive to do something about it, nothing was.

Yuffie peered around the hallway she'd just stepped into. Deserted. Again. Sheesh, what was everybody doing? Hiding in their rooms and hoping the Big Bad didn't sneak in to get them? Or… Well, okay, it wasn't like Yuffie hadn't loitered in her room before, so maybe she could understand. Maybe.

Shaking her head, she trekked onward.

[To here]

Indy dressed and left quickly after the doors unlocked, ready to make an early start. He seemed to be the first one out in the hallway, which was fine with him. The fewer people around, the faster he could move--assuming being the first one out in the hall didn't also mean being the first course of King Kong's dinner.

He shifted his shoulder, felt the weight of the whip looped over it. The injury was fading. Right now, at least, Indy wasn't too concerned about taking that chance.

[skipping ahead to here]

That had been a very frustrating shower. For many reasons. At least Raine was going to at least look at Forte. Hopefully, she'll actually heal him. The showers had also succeeded in making the ninja feel like a pervert. A mild one, but still... It was as if Yukari had picked that spot in the showers because she knew the ninja could easily see her.

Ugh! Damn youkai.

Squirreling herself away in a corner of the cafeteria, Sheena finger combed her wet hair before pulling it back with the bright red ribbon. She so needed her own hair ribbon back. She was attempting to formulate her plan of acquisition - she was ninja after all - as people started trickling into the room. The plan was put on pause, though, when her stomach rumbled.

Food now - plan later.

[Closed to Haseo and Endrance]

Astor hadn't talked much after introducing himself, which hadn't bothered Terry. With all the crap their little hospital of horrors piled on the patients, he couldn't blame a guy for not wanting to open up to some stranger. Plus, not talking meant he could get a decent meal in, and then check out the bulletin for the latest in Landel's news and gossip. Turned out to be a good thing he did. He'd have missed a lot otherwise: how many people had apparently gotten slagged last night, Spider-boy's unsurprising guilt trip, a note for a too cheery someone named Harley, and another one signed by a lightening bolt that looked a lot like one he'd seen in Wayne's Justice League files. It was pretty hard to know exactly where to start--especially since so far, Terry hadn't seen any sign of the old man in all that mess. Unless that one guy had meant him by the "you-know-who" that made someone else shake in their boots. Inspiring that kind of reaction wasn't exactly a stretch for Bruce.

Terry would've been perfectly content to stay there and watch the developing news, despite the lack of vid screens making the process almost painfully slow. But his dear sweet nurse had other plans for him apparently. Ones that involved crayons and construction paper.

"Oh come on. You can't be serious."

Needless to say, Terry was less than impressed by the offerings. His nurse didn't exactly care about his opinion though, instead firmly asserting her belief that first grade arts and crafts was the key to mental stability. It made Terry eager to get home all over again, just so he could tell the officials at Gotham's mental wards how'd they'd been doing it wrong for all these years. Apparently Batman could retire in peace, just as soon as a bunch of gangsters got their paper mache on.

And they thought he was the insane one. Obviously because he hadn't made enough popsicle houses in his childhood.

Sitting down at least got the woman to stop her preaching, for what that was worth. Of course, now Terry was left with half a glue stick, cheap paper, and scissors that probably couldn't cut air reliably. Terry couldn't say he was pleased. Oh, but they had glitter too! Well, didn't that just make everything perfect? He could make his own Bat signal that would shine with all the colors of the rainbow.

"This is just slagging great."


[Free as a bird bat!]

Endrance was quiet as he gathered his things - flashlight, pipe, long chef's knife from the night before - and slipped out into the hallway. It felt a bit strange to be leaving without saying much to his roommate, but...what was there to say, really? He wasn't sure, and so saying nothing at all had probably been the best course of action.

As he closed the door behind him, he blinked. Had - had the walls just blinked for a moment? It reminded him of what had happened two nights ago, when the false-Kite had changed the entry room into Hulle Granz, and it put him on guard. Was he out again tonight, then?

[to hereeventually.]