[From here]

Of course. Yet another of his suggestions unheeded. The instant that von Karma entered the Sun Room, he nearly tripped over one of those blasted cats that tried to knead its head against his leg. Since the nurse's watchful eye was upon him, he nudged his foot against the furry nuisance to move it aside so that he could make his way to the bulletin board.

Hmm. It appeared that Franziska had already found his report and taken it down, even though he hadn't seen her at all today so far. It was just as well. He wasn't eager to even look at her, let alone speak to her. As for his note to Ms. Taura... no response yet. He frowned. There was no notice from the damned History Club offering assignments, so she couldn't have accepted one already. It was imperative that he get an answer regarding his own mission as soon as possible; he would ask the nurse about "Ms. Jackson" should he receive no response by the end of the day.

Two notes caught his attention, both from Ms. Ema Skye. One of them, in particular... so she had connections to Mr. Javert, did she? von Karma would have to keep an eye on this discussion; his name had better not come up in it.

After he was finished perusing the board and finding little of use so far, he found a secluded table in the corner and sat there, hoping that no one would disturb him.

[Mello]

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.

Weapons in hand, Heat was out in the hall the moment the doors opened. There had to be something, a scent in the air that might alert him to the presence of one of Landel's creations. His hunger wouldn't be denied for another night. Though he was still without his flashlight, that didn't really matter. His other senses should be enough to find what he needed. And he would find something. No other patients were even going to be looked at until he had.

Whatever the head doctor meant about those rings, it didn't matter to Heat. He hadn't been in a group the night before, and even if he had been he hadn't gotten more than a couple halls. What would be the point of being able to transport himself there when he could walk the distance just as quickly? No, it couldn't help him, and if it couldn't help him it didn't interest him. Chances were they were all just another trick of the Institute's anyway.

The demon paused outside his doorway, nose to the air as he decided on a direction.

Leela was an interesting new person to meet, but now Forte was ready for the main event. He'd been wanting to fight someone or something since he was on his feet again, and now he was even more wound up. He'd been hoping to see what Scott or Sechs were like in a fight, even if they had more experience with this kind of battle than he did (unfortunately, he was just remembering that, despite what he had learned from Sheena, he had little real experience with hand-to-hand). But now some asshole that thought he was so much better than him had appeared, and Forte was ready to focus his frustration on him. Winning or losing, as long as he got to beat the crap out of him, the robot would be happy.

As he stepped out onto the field, the sun wasn't as bright as the last time, but it was better than rain. Unfortunately, the grass was still a bit muddy and slick from the previous night's downpour. At least he'd put his sneakers on again in anticipation of going outside.

He took a few steps to test the slickness of the ground, and waited for this mystery jerk from the board to show up. His eye-marks should have been clear enough identifiers, but eager as he was, he was the only one out here so far. On his end, it shouldn't be too hard to identify his opponent. He'd just look for the smug bastard coming out of the building.

"—na-"

… Viridian red buildings; clear water rushing—blood red running and then somewhere else; raining now, raining so hard it rained through bones, sounded like a drum-beat or a klaxon or Cait with his tail stuck in a socket…

"Han—"

… Insistent rain, more like Barret's gun-fire or pebbled sand against glass or both, loud and pounding and drowning but not, and somewhere overhead hung a second moon with a Tonberry leering…

"Hanna!"

… "Shut up," Yuffie mumbled thickly, her voice sticking in her throat like molasses.

"Oh, dear," said the trumpet in her ear. "You do have to wake up now, you know. Can't have you missing anything."

"Can too." Cracking her eyes open was going to be a chore like none other, Yuffie was quickly realizing. She didn't want to wake up. Sleep tugged at her, jostled her, clung to her. It called her back, pulled her under, but the trumpet—the voice; the nurse—was insistent. Had to get up, had to go face the day, and dear, oh dear, perhaps you're running a tad bit of a temperature, just a little, nothing to worry about.

It was then that Yuffie realized the problems.

One, it was morning. She wasn't in a locker room and she (mostly) didn't feel like she was gonna hack up a bowl of innards stew. That was… good. And bad. And it was awesome and it sucked, so point number two, please. Two: she didn't feel like somebody'd set up a blender in her stomach so much as she felt like somebody'd stuffed her head and limbs full of down-feathers and sticky toffee and socks. The cloying sensation was reseeding, but it lingered maddeningly. Point three, and this was the kicker: Plucky had been close enough to shake her shoulder, had been shaking her shoulder, and didn't have a black eye or a broken wrist to show for it.

"Oh, hell," Yuffie groaned.

Plucky tutted. "Language, young lady. Now, up you get."

Up Yuffie got, quick enough to almost send herself stumbling. She would not get sick. Not, not, not! It just wasn't gonna happen. After throwing on a sweater, Yuffie grabbed the two squishy balls—one orange and the other purple (both sporting stupid smiley faces)—from inside her desk drawer before she, Plucky in tow, left for the sun room. If she had something physical to focus on, something more than chatting or people-watching or cuddling with Fuzzbutt, she'd have a better chance of jump-starting herself into gear. Maybe. Hopefully.

Before long, Yuffie was perched cross-legged on one of the sun room's many sofas, Fuzzbutt the kitten languishing cosily in her lap. One hand rested against her knee—in that hand sat the purple ball. The other hand, her left hand, was up and moving, manipulating the orange ball into small tricks and sleights. Nothin' fancy. Nothin' even interesting, as far as the ninja was concerned. Just a quick warm up to get her fingers—and her brain, ugh; it was still fuzzier than she'd like—going.

[For Kaito and Yukari!]

[from here]

If Forte had possessed a sense of smell when he was a robot, he probably would have recognized this large hallway immediately. As it was, he was just reminded slightly of the hardware store - it definitely smelled like freshly oiled metal. But as he turned off his flashlight and looked around, he froze with recognition. Although there were no overhead lights, there were bright lines tracing patterns along the walls, and in the distance, there was the sound of machinery and construction.

The guard robots and booby-traps hadn't been activated, but he would know Wily's designs anywhere. He was in Skull Castle. In fact, upon inspection, it was the same version he'd been taken from. He was... home?

"I... what... I don't... what?!"

After gaping a moment longer, he looked down and started inspecting himself. No, he was still human, still wearing that stupid uniform. What did this even mean?

[from here]

Stepping through the door, Forte was briefly worried that his sight had gotten messed up by the teleport, until he remembered that he'd pocketed his flashlight and Sechs had to be sent here before his light could help.

The next thing through is head was "Crap! It's the fridge again!" Although he couldn't see, his temperature dropped as soon as he entered. This was bad... they hadn't been in there very long before, and it screwed Sechs up even after they were out. He was probably close behind, so Forte readied himself to either shove Sechs back into the door, or sprint for the trap door as soon as he saw the light.

[from here]

Teleportation, check.  Mild Inner-ear disturbance, also check.  This was the first room S.T. could definitively ID, and it wasn't anywhere near where they'd been.

A random walk.  A concept normally applied to things that moved without conscious volition.  At each fractional timestep, nothing could be said relating the previous step to the next.  Hence, random walk.  If there was only one axis of freedom, plotted against time, it looked like this:

( Read more... )

[from here]

Mello was ready for it, sure, but dizziness still took him for a moment as he put his foot down somewhere completely other than the hall that should have been there. He swayed on his feet, making an abortive, instinctive grab for his gun before realizing he didn't need it. Yet.

The beam of Matt's flashlight illuminated more shelves, this time packed not with drugs but with tools: nails, screws, hammers, power tools. Mello wished fervently that he'd brought his pillowcase with him to serve as a shopping bag. This might have been random, but it was working out pretty damn well for him. He looked over at Matt with a grin, managing, mostly successfully, to beat back the thought that no matter how much cool shit they got, it wouldn't make a difference at all in the end; that at some level, even the randomness was inherently controlled by Landel, and offered no more than the illusion of freedom.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he said, a note of defiance in his voice.

[Warping from here.]

...and within an instant, the hallway before him was replaced by a totally different environment.

The first thing Sechs was greeted by was the distinct smell of greasy food and the sharper clunk of his boots hitting tiled floor instead of carpet. The area wasn't as pitch black as the former room, thanks to the walls of rain soaked windows adorning the whole area. Other than Sechs and Forte, only dozens of plastic chairs surrounding worn down tables, stained counters, menu signs and waste bins populated the larger room. Despite being empty, quiet and shadowed, it took little time before Sechs realized where he was.

He had stumbled through the front doors of the Tasty Burger.

Sechs roughly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, but it did nothing to change what he was seeing around him. "Wha... WHAT?!" The perturbed Replica approached the ordering counter, the same spot he twice tormented that bitchy clerk for his food, and tapped the cash register with his flashlight. Yep, it was all real alright... "We're at the Tasty Burger now?! But..."

That could only mean he and Forte had just ended up all the way back to Dolyeton, the town that was about an hour or so away from the institute. It was now dawning on him that this was no longer a simple issue of misreading his maps and opening the wrong door...

[Stumbling in from here.]

The knob turned and Sechs pushed the door open. As he exited through, the Replica bowed his head, expecting the thunderous weather outside to greet him with an instant downpour of rain. Instead, a brief sensation of falling startled Sechs before he felt his mind crash into an impossible set of new senses--

"Wha--?"

He didn't find himself within the soaking darkness of the recreational field, but instead he had somehow stumbled into a near pitch black room...?! Blinking almost comically, Sechs' vision scrambled to catch up with the new layer of darkness. The surprised android jerked his head around in every direction his neck would allow. His wolfish eyes nearly bulged as they took in the new room, but his brain was a few seconds late to catch up on all the new data. So far he could spot only a few chairs and tables about, nothing terribly interesting. Was this some kind of office? But weren't they going outside just a second ago?!

There didn't seem to be any danger in the small room either, but the Replica's brain was still reeling from the abrupt change of environment, sending his bewildered system into high alert. Once his senses got a firm enough grip on what just happened, Sechs could only determine that for some crazed reason, he had just ended up inside some room instead of the recreational field outside.

He could really have cared less for that particular conclusion.

"Alright!" Sechs snarled, his eyes still darting around for a more sensible answer. "What gives here?!"

Then a chilling thought came to mind. Shit! What if this was just the drug screwing around with him again?! Sechs couldn't see the usual living shadows swirling throughout his vision yet, but he could never be sure... Not moving from the spot, Sechs checked over his shoulder to see if Forte had ended up in the impossible room as well. It was the only way Sechs could think of to discern if this was all just in his head or something else...

"Forte...?"

[From here]

"It wouldn't be much of a music room if they didn't," he agreed. Interesting to know that Edgar at least had those where he came from. A part of him was sure it would be interesting to sit down and compare what was similar and what was different between all the different places the people he'd talked to so far claimed to come from. That part was quickly distracted by a strange moment of vertigo as he stepped through the doorway. He would have blamed it on his less than perfect health, if not for the fact that this also didn't seem like where they'd been meaning to go. It was an office of some kind, with no other exit he could see which would conceivably lead them towards the shed his roommate had mentioned.

"Edgar? I don't think we can get outside from here."

Maybe the other man had simply gotten disorientated in the halls. He could see how that might happen.

[From here.]

Upon stepping through the door, Peter had felt a weird rush of blood to the head, something that put him off-balance for just long enough that he couldn't quite place what had happened except that they were definitely not in a file room. The sudden drop in temperature was the first clue, and his original guess was a morgue.

As it turned out, they were in a cold storage area for food. Blinking his eyes a few times to make sure that he wasn't somehow seeing things (though why would he see this?), Peter stepped up next to Sam and continued to look around, mouth slightly open.

Maybe Sam had gotten mixed up? But still, it made no sense for a refrigerator to be just off of the main hall like this. Rubbing his hands over his arms to try and keep warm, he glanced over to his roommate with a puzzled expression. "This... isn't supposed to be here, is it?"

[Teleporting from over here]

...This wasn't the recreational field.

He had been fulling anticipating a rush of air or the soft cushioning of grass underfoot to greet the two of them as they began their search, but this was not the case. It was only more tile, more darkness (Alkaid had made note, whether he wanted to listen to her or not, that even if they were in the wrong formations, there were, in fact, stars outside. It should not be this dark). This was not the recreational field.

He had seen a Chinese doctor capable of warping the fabric of space with a preference for wearing a bag on his head, a woman with sentient wings and tail, a spirit medium who wasn't aware of being a spirit medium, an officer of the law who's idea of arresting him was to throw deadly blots of electricity at him, a pre-teen pirate carrying around an anchor bigger than she was, and Bridget. There were very few things in life that could confound the Guild Head to the point of speechlessness and double-takes. Again, he found himself lacking a medal to award Landel for accomplishing this. Perhaps Edward had one.

Gloved hands immediately tightened over the cue, preparing for something worse. He never did like surprises. "What is this?"

Kirk had barely begun to dry when a nurse appeared to order them to the buses, but he left the warm shelter of the sheriff's office without complaint, and without even bothering to do up the buttons of his coat. The apprehension which had been edging around his thoughts all day was unignorable now, although probably only those who knew him could read it in the urgency of his movements. To the nurses he passed, he simply seemed like another patient in a rush to get out of the rain.

Last week's trip had apparently ended with everything exploding into mayhem at the end of the day, so fact that they were getting as far as the bus was a good sign — probably. Kirk for one would let himself relax once he was sure they weren't all about to be drowned. With this rain, there was little chance of gathering the crew again to discuss their findings, but he'd still rather get there soon enough to make sure they were all accounted for.

As luck would have it, Kirk's speed put him among the first dozen to board the buses. The nurse giving pat-downs before scolded him for not dressing properly, which he deflected with a grin and a cheerful suggestion of how else she could handle him. With how quickly she pushed him on the bus after that, it was too bad Kirk didn't actually have anything to smuggle back.

He chose a seat near the front, and settled in to look out the window for familiar faces. You had to hand it to Landel's staff — at the rate the prisoners were being rounded up, they'd be off in this hellish storm in no time.

[Roxas]

Other than catch a glimpse of a few book spines and the first floor, McCoy hadn't gotten the chance check out the store fully. He'd still managed to uncover a few interesting things before he left. It wasn't exactly the answer, or even close to it, about how to get out of here, or what they had planned for them, or even who these people really were. What it did give them was just a little better picture of what they were dealing with. Venkman had been his usual self, complete with the sarcasm and sass, but he'd also said plenty.

It did tell him that the staff wasn't as unified as he'd thought. 'Course, Venkman could just be the odd man out. That fact wouldn't surprise him, considering that personality of his. But supposing that the other doctors weren't completely fooled by the whole charade, or if they weren't fully on-board...

It was raining more heavily by the time McCoy left the building. As much as he wanted to stay behind, where it was dry and he wasn't flirting with the flu, he had his orders. These grounds weren't going to cover themselves.


[For Jim]

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~.]

Morning hit without warning, with the sheer knowledge hitting the Digimon before anything else that today they were going back to Doyletown. Her feet hit the floor and she rotated her right shoulder experimentally. The skin stretched tight, soreness persevering, but it moved fine. She stretched her fingers then curled them into a fist, staring at the tanned skin that was her right arm. If something happened this time... She would be more useful. Her mind replayed the events of last week, and Renamon stilled, considering.

There wasn't much time left to her as the nurse bustled in with an armful of clothes, the same shade as the weeks before. The woman murmured a cheery complaint that it was too cold for skirts and left Renamon to change. The pants were preferable to the past two weeks, though the other item she was left with gave too much to irony. She frowned at it for a minute, then slid it over her head, reflecting that this motion in days or weeks past would have left her shuddering. It meant she was becoming used to this human body, and that was nothing that boded well. She grabbed her notebook before being led to a bus, and slid into a seat halfway down the aisle, pressing against the window. Again, the previous night had been more than short. Was it just her, or was there something more to it?

[for Haseo!]

[Breaking down doors since the last time he broke a door~]

The now broken knob to the door was stubbornly ignored as it rolled across the floor, as was the majority of the room. The assassin instead immediately made his way to the yellow cabinets ahead and pried them open. Bottle upon bottle of dangers chemicals? Hm... It didn't look like any of them were empty. He'd have to do that himself. Searching the blue cabinets did prove his search for the syringes fruitful, however.

He always did want to bring himself to have mercy on his captors when they made things easy for him.

It was strange. As he carefully made work emptying what containers he could into the spare beakers (which in itself was off. As much as he had studied them, he'd never gotten to work with many chemicals before despite his namesake), it felt... Lighter now. The weight in his chest, that is. It felt easier. For once in this torturous week, he felt like he was making some sort of progress.

He was willing to admit that that in itself was pathetic.

The five stolen containers now empty and dried, Venom placed the lids back on top and let them rest at the bottom of the pillowcase. One empty container was used to hold the needles, while the syringes... Well, he'd just have to be careful with letting them sit on top. If any of them broke, the entire half of this night would be a complete waste.

...Nngh. That foreign bright feeling from before soon died out at the realization that he had yet to entirely complete his mission for the night. Back at it, then...

[Holy shit, more moving.]

[from here]

Forte continued to the stairwell, not expecting any surprises yet - although admittedly he had used the other one before, making this the first new room on their excursion. But as he approached the stairs, the intercom crackled to life again. He held up a hand to stop Beelzemon, hoping there would be some clue to how long he'd been out this time. As that cursed doctor spoke, though, it became clear this was an important announcement, one that might provide vital information about this place...

...

...and after a minute or so of intent listening, it simply cut off. Still, there was a bit of interesting information there.

"Hm, let's get going again," he grumbled, and started up the staircase.