For once, HK was working very hard to hide a giddy facial expression as he met his nurse at the door. He'd already hidden his scalpels in his clothing. The wonderful, sharp implements of doom would be needed today. “Statement: Despite my reticence towards all processed meat and plant products, I am experiencing intolerable levels of hunger,” he informed his nurse. “I require an especially large meal.”

It was the easiest and best excuse to load his food tray with several of these 'inglish muffin sandwiches', and two glasses of white milk. He then found a table strategically located in the center of the refueling area, and waited. He needed the room as full as possible before the Evil Plan could begin.

[Free, but planning doom upon all.]

Well, if it wasn't his favorite time of the week. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. Of course in this case, distance makes Klavier feel like an abused, neglected animal who was only now being allowed a taste of actual food. These people were such savages. It was still absolutely absurd that they were allowed access to this room so rarely. But the tactic was also brilliant on their part, sad to say. Klavier was always at his quietest and most obedient on Music Room days. The perfect model patient. He would give them no excuse to deprive him of this precious time.

Today was going to be a little different, however. Not only was he given access to music today, but a bout of entertainment as well. Apparently that band that had been setting up tryouts for the last week was ready to get the show on the road and start their auditions. Normally, this was the sort of project he wouldn't hesitate to take part in. But aside from the injury to his left hand and shoulder, there were three critical factors keeping him from doing so:

1. The band was named "Sex Bob-Omb." Klavier may have missed the band scene, but he had no intention of attaching his name to some Tom Jones cover band.
2. There weren't many actual instruments in the Music Room; certainly not enough variety to form the type of band they want. The one who made the poster said something about improvising instruments through whatever means necessary. A noble goal, but again, Klavier was not so desperate yet as to reduce himself to playing with a box of tissues strung up with rubber bands. That was too pathetic an image to ever place himself into.
3. The person who had posted placed up a sample music sheet of one of their songs. Klavier had no idea how many people here could actually read music enough to know what it was they were looking at there, but he had been able to decipher it perfectly. Their music... it was kind of god-awful.

In short, this was basically a disaster waiting to happen. The hints were enough to tell him this was likely going to be something akin to nails on a chalkboard... amplified by five. So honestly, he should be as far away from this room as humanly possible.

But he was not going to let these people ruin his rare access time to the Music Room. No, instead he took one of their old CD players and a carefully selected CD of choice (for the sake of his sanity) and took a seat at one of the tables, turning the chair so as to get an optimal view of the show. Why not? No harm in indulging in a little "entertainment," yes?

[free to anyone who wants to watch this train wreck with him :D ]

With breakfast finished and a new acquaintance made, the Scarecrow's mind turned to his other friends. The disappearance of Depth Charge's friend had brought back memories of how he'd felt when Kaiji went missing: helpless, useless, as though he should have and could have done something more to find him. If only he had his brain, then maybe he could have thought of something!

As much as he didn't like to admit it, it was unlikely his former roommate was still within the Institute's walls at this point, though the Scarecrow wouldn't know for sure unless Kaiji returned to visit him as Dorothy had, encouraging his supposed recovery. There was still the concern that Landel, despite his vile methods, was actually right and he was suffering from the delusion of having been a scarecrow in Oz. After all, that movie had been a pretty elaborate trick. Would he have planted it in town on purpose, knowing the Scarecrow would be taken there the night of the enchanted doors? And how could he guarantee that once he did find it, he'd take it and actually watch it? There was so much guesswork involved- it seemed the Wizard Landel either liked coincidences or he had more power on his side than any of the patients could have guessed.

The Scarecrow stopped by the bulletin board before heading for a seat, considering writing a note to his friends to check on them. He'd heard from Depth Charge, Remy, and Kibitoshin within a day's time, so he figured they were probably fine (as fine as Depth Charge could have been after last night, anyway). He'd seen Mele and Scar the day before. He put a finger to his head, thinking- he'd not heard from Abe or Sangamon in a day or so, but being professionals, they were probably very busy. Perhaps a note would be best for them.

[Kibby]

[from here]

As they stepped outside, Kratos took a deep breath, taking a moment to savor the feeling of fresh air, even though it was still tainted with the silent evil that surrounded the institute. Then, moment finished, he returned to the task at hand.

The immediate vicinity outside the institute was still and eerily quiet. He knew this place: this was where the buses usually sat whenever they were taken to Doyleton. But now, the plaza was completely empty, and it reminded him that for once he was going somewhere that no map he had had ever described. Yes, other patients had surely come here before, but none of them had ever deigned to tell of what they'd found--or else, Kratos had never noticed their warnings on the board. He and Ishida would have to simply work off of intuition, a situation that he was familiar with, but rather disliked.

"So from here..." Kratos took a few steps away from the door and tried to get an idea of their surroundings. An uneven road stretched out before them, and to its sides he could see that the terrain grew rougher still. "This road leads, if I'm correct, to the town of Doyleton." He strained to see farther and barely made out the tops of trees. "We need not follow it to its conclusion, though."

There was something else that he could recall about this particular area, a memory of watching gigantic, airborne monsters swoop down from above. "Keep an eye on the sky."

[from here]

The door opened onto darkness. Either the lights had switched off, or they'd all burst; sweeping the flashlight's beam over the floor evinced the glitter of broken glass. The latter, then. He hoped the brown of that carpet looked less repulsive in the daylight. As Uryuu walked into the room, he was almost glad of the darkness. The light in the hall, even thrown into the doorway, made his shadow stark, and he had to keep himself from looking again, and again at it. His eyes were playing tricks (he didn't believe that). Scanning the room by flashlight, Uryuu noted that it seemed smaller at this end because of the two rooms on each side.

Venturing further in and turning with the light produced labels for the doors. File Rooms. Temptations. But, he recognized that at the moment, he didn't have enough information. It was unlikely that Kurosaki would be listed under Kurosaki Ichigo; instead, under whatever false name the institute provided. And Uryuu hadn't a clue. There were two long reception desks in front of those rooms, and doors that lead to waiting rooms. Did "visitors" come through the front doors, then sit in those lobbies? Would Kuro--

He couldn't finish the thought, a sudden, amused smirk coming to his face. Even brainwashed into believing he was someone else, no way would Kurosaki ever come to visit his insane classmate "Gerard Way". Assuming their fabricated identities knew one another, it was impossible that they had that sort of relationship. (Well, if he were Gerard and it was Kurosaki in here, he might have--)

Priorities. He'd kept moving while thinking it, at least, not distracted by appearance aside from the out of place trace of humor.

"It seems too easy," he noted quietly, reaching the doors. To simply walk out the entrance.

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!]

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to her face an effort. She put her wrist to her forehead with a frown, then attempted a jolt of energy – to swiftly dig her hands into the mattress and shove herself into a seated position, and from there, to her feet.

Not to overexert herself once again, but to refuse that it could be possible after sleeping. Happily, though all still felt leaden, her head did not swim. Encouraged, Natalia put on her slippers, rearranged the bedding, and waited. There came the announcement (reminding her, suddenly, of what she had last heard, and the guilt that had twisted in her gut, Jill--), and her face wrinkled with disgust at the hacking sound. Therapy and breakfast. Food would surely help.

Natalia did not wait long before her nurse opened the door, and after exchanging cursory “Good Morning”s (with rather more enthusiasm on the other woman's part), they began the walk to the Cafeteria. With, of course, the essential rest room stop, where water was splashed and scrubbed over her face, and her hair toyed with to no great satisfaction. At least the shower had renewed its body.

Separating in the Cafeteria, Natalia took her place in line and loaded her plate: eggs, fruit salad, fried “tater tots” (potatoes?), and curious meat wrapped in cooked dough. Some of everything, with juice and water. She thanked her servers, collected utensils and napkins, and found a seat at an empty table. It was early yet.

Sparing a brief look around to be sure no one she recognized had arrived – though she remained eager to greet every patient, at the moment she chose to focus on the possible strength gained from the meal – Natalia began to cut up the items and eat with a refined gusto. Entirely possible!

[Claude!]

There was no telling if the next announcement came hours or minutes after the previous one, but regardless of that, it did come on with the onset of dawn. Like clockwork, like always, someone was there to greet the half-groggy patients as they woke up in their beds.

Except this greeting got off on the wrong foot, starting with a harsh cough that persisted for a few seconds before the speaker recovered.

"I apologize for that," the head nurse said, without any further explanation given. "As today is Tuesday, it will be the first day of therapy for the week. But before that, all patients will be taken to the cafeteria, as always, to eat their breakfast. We're serving pigs in blankets with fruit, scrambled eggs, and tater tots on the side. Please enjoy juice, milk, or water as possible drinks."

After another coughing fit, the nurse continued. "The Head Doctor will most likely be with you after your meal. Thank you."

And the announcement ended, signaling the nurses to go rouse the patients from their sleep.