While Harvey never really enjoyed having to babysit one of the newer patients, he had to admit that Barnaby had been pretty easy to deal with. He'd been composed, quiet, and focused, which was a lot better than some of the other patients who only gave confused looks or had over-the-top reactions to everything they heard.

The point was, that conversation had almost been enjoyable, which was strange for Harvey to admit. He didn't know how Barnaby was going to manage in this place in the long run, but he wouldn't be surprised if he found his feet eventually and then did decently well for himself. It wasn't Harvey's job to care either way, but the close quarters they were kept in meant he'd probably end up finding out anyway.

Unfortunately, a positive note could only last for so long. As usual, it was a nurse who ruined it by insisting that he should go to the greenhouse for the last shift of the day. "Mr. Eckhart, it's not cold in there, so it shouldn't be any strain on you. It might be nice to help something grow, don't you think?"

He didn't dignify any of that with a response and instead resigned himself to his fate. He was one of the first people to make it into the muggy greenhouse, and he realized that he wasn't a fan of being cold or being hot. He fanned the air in front of his face for a few seconds and then went to find somewhere to sit down.

All the plants were lined up in pots; it almost felt like they were staring at him, waiting for him to do something about it. Well, that wasn't gonna happen.

[For Peter Parker.]

Now that he had finally been allowed back inside, the warmth from the Sun Room hit him like a heated slap in the face. With ruddy cheeks and the sticky feeling of perspiration from his little walk/job with Niikura made him feel like a sun-burned mess. His nurse was kind enough to take his jacket from him before he went to the restroom to splash a little water on his face.

It also gave him a moment to himself, completely alone and silent so he could think. The water in the sink continued to run, but the older man was more occupied with the mirrors. He stared at his wet reflection as he took a few slow breaths to help contain himself. The longer he stayed here, the more surreal it all felt. Slowly, he began to feel less and less attached to this reality because he believed it was only a matter of minutes, seconds before he woke up.

He couldn't let the sensation overwhelm him. In fact, he picked a hand up from the sink and pinched himself to prove his point. Bizarre or not, this was his situation and he needed to figure out soon just who put him in it. The fact that none of the nurses would even humor his talk of his Hero alter ego said many things to him. Suddenly no one had even heard of him and it was an all too familiar problem that made his blood run cold. In spite of it all, he needed to be on his toes. This was no time to fall apart, he reminded himself. With one last deep breath, Kotetsu put his clueless smile back in place and stepped out of the bathroom with his nurse in toe who gave him a quick tour of the all the places he could go if he chose to.

He passed one room and took three steps back to get a better look. "Ah, excuse me, ma'am! What's this one?"

"Oh, that's arts and crafts," she said flippantly, not expecting a grown ass man would be interested in playing with clay. Well, she was clearly mistaken now that he saw the extent of the materials. They had a lot in here! And he had the perfect idea. If the staff here refused to regard him as Wild Tiger, he was just going to have to force it on them.

Snickering like a fool, Kotetsu grabbed several sheets of black construction paper, glitter, glue, and a pair of safety scissors before sitting down at a vacant table. Actually, all the tables were empty. He was the only one in here and that was probably for the best since he was making himself a makeshift domino mask of ultimate secretiveness.

He laid all the pieces of construction paper on top of each other before he began cutting out something that looked like an elongated figure eight with little barbed fins at the bottom. It wasn't going very well. Kotetsu was confident he could probably cut a tree down with a stick of butter faster than these scissors would cut through the paper.

He was going to be here for awhile.

[Kaede Kairi, come to papa!]

Loki wasn't entirely thrilled about returning to the recreation field, though he supposed it would be nicer during the day. And without the annoying presence of Riku. Some fresh air would likely do him good; that was what Sif and Thor had always claimed right before they dragged him out of the library.

He wasn't entirely certain if that was a pleasant thought or not. It was still far too mixed up and painful.

He was allowed to go back to his room and pull out every bit of warm clothing he had, bundling up as much as he could. As he followed the nurse out into the field, he also wondered if this meant he would miss out on the greenhouse, since he'd arranged to meet Soma after lunch. That had priority, of course, but he did find plants interesting. At least it was good to know there were activities they were forced to participate in during the day that weren't as horrifically painful as, say, what the music room would indicate.

Good to know that as prisons went, it wasn't all just torture, torture, torture. Some variation was good for the mind.

He wandered along the crunchy, dead grass, for now steering clear of the few other patients. The air felt much better during the day, smelled much better to him as well as he sniffed at it. even if it was cold enough to make his nose hurt. It reminded him uncomfortably of Jotunheim, and...

But at least here, there was sunlight. He wasn't trapped in that dark place as sometimes was in his nightmares.

Loki stopped about halfway down the field, tilting his head back to take in the thin sunlight, his eyes slipping shut.

[Here, angel angel angel... :D Castiel!]

Needless to say, her night was a bust.

It wasn't that Ramona was trying to turn it into an absolutely safe evening in which she got nothing done. A part of her wanted to test the limits of her abilities and see what she could actually do in this place, but outside of the absolute confirmation that subspace was no longer a go, she couldn't bring herself to go much farther. Scott's words hung over her heavily. The fact that he had made it clear that he was going to continue being as affectionate as possible wanted to remove any chance of her dealing with anyone. So, though she hit another hall, she turned back around and headed back to her room. Ramona was the type of person who sometimes preferred sulking with company, but that wasn't on the plate for the night. (And she didn't want to call it sulking, either.)

She wasn't certain when she fell asleep, but when she woke up, she was sure the people in charge here had some kind of fast-forward button that they could hit whenever they got bored. That was definitely not the entire night, nor had it been the night before. Sometimes night just ended. Of course, Ramona could appreciate the need for a scene change. This place was already running on enough lame clichés to last it a lifetime. Sometimes they need to return to the daytime status quo to hit reset.

That all said, she was getting the feeling that her own waking up process was a little boring. Ramona was glad that her hair was short now because it made her feel a lot less neurotic about the lack of allowed primping. She cast a glance in the direction of her roommate's bed before she plodded out after her nurse. The woman was kind looking, which, of course, meant that she was evil. Then again, anyone could be evil. Ramona just wanted everyone to be evil right now.

(Maybe she was still sulking.)

"We've noticed that you haven't been socializing as much, Sandra," the woman said while grabbing her attention, and it was as if Ramona finally clued in that a conversation was supposed to be happening. Great, she was fitting the bill for crazy on top of incredibly irritated already. The nurse was definitely evil. And maybe a bitch, with the way her fingers freed her shoulder and she stepped back, snorted softly, and gave a shake of her head. "It's always when you're new that it's hard," the nurse added. "And we can tell you're rebellious."

"Wow, it's been a while since someone thought I was a punk rocker. Don't worry. I can socialize," Ramona assured her as she hit the cafeteria. But it looked like she was one of the first arrivals.

Ramona decided she'd get the woman off her back by grabbing a tray of food and not sitting too far from it. At least people might stumble upon talking to her if she looked available enough.

(And hopefully, that someone wouldn't be Scott. Even though she highly doubted his ability to get out of bed, he seemed to acclimate to this place enough to make an appearance with his face and his smiles and his stupid "I love you"s.)

[for America]

The intercom jingled at its standard time, with the Head Doctor still in his over-the-top, jovial mood. It seemed not even the evening light could keep down the love he held for his job.

"Good evening, everyone! I hope your soul is filled with music from last shift; I know mine is."

There again was a stretch of silence. When the Head Doctor continued, he sounded marginally disappointed.

"But now it's time to wind down the day with a bit of dinner. Tonight, we'll be serving turkey breasts and quality gravy, with sides of garlic mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, grilled asparagus, and a small salad. For dessert, we will be having pumpkin pie with optional whipped creme. As per usual, we will have our vegetarian alternatives and a wide selection of drinks available. Turkey lovers, be sure to take advantage of the food; it'll be an entire week before you can have this delectable meat again."

He chuckled at the statement. One might have labeled it as dark.

"Anyway, enjoy! I will wish you all a good night momentarily!"

The intercom clicked off.

It wasn't often that Renji felt less like punching people in general as his day wore on. This was a new experience for him. A not unwelcome one, if he was being honest. And the fact that he felt less like punching Fai? Kind of mind-blowing. The sort of thing Zen masters would probably use as a kouan to reach an all-new level of non-punching enlightenment.

So he was back from the dead, almost everyone he'd known was gone, and yet bizarrely his day felt like it was looking up. Kind of. Renji wasn't sure what to make of this. Maybe his grumpy meter was just nearing empty. That was as good an explanation as the next, considering how this place made him feel.

Whatever the reason, he ended up in the music room. And he remembered oh yeah. He'd always kind of hated this damn shift. He grabbed a little book of music and a drum and retreated quickly to the far end of the room. He put the drum down in front of him just so he looked like he was doing something and opened the book. But he had no idea how to read music, and really, he was more interested in the ongoing puzzle of what the hell had happened in the last four weeks.

And brooding. Of course. There was always brooding to be done.

[Okay Tolten, let me lay it out for you. When there's a mommy and a daddy... or sometimes a daddy and a dadddy. Or, hell, sometimes a mommy and a mommy if you buy the right kind of wood cuts (and a third mommy if you go to just the right shop)... but anyway when they love each other very much, or at least a suitably large amount of money changes hands, there are some things that happen...]

[from here]

Instantaneous by name, instantaneous by nature. The floor seemed not to give way under his feet so much as vanish entirely- a pretty strange illusion, given that they were the ones who'd vanished- but the move was so quick that Kibitoshin didn't even see their surroundings blur before they were planted back on the ground again. The dark, narrow hall, the ominous doors thick enough to swallow any number of sounds: it looked right to him. They seemed to be in the right place.

He dared a glance at both Peter and Sam, looking from side to side to check that they were both still in one piece (and the right piece at that, with no extra parts- it had never happened before, but this place made him nervous) before letting his shoulders sag with relief- a gesture he made sure to correct as swiftly as possible when he remembered that Sam still had his hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to know that he'd been worried. Of course not. Especially not when they were still in 'first impressions' territory.

"This is it, right?" he asked after a moment anyway, frowning slightly- and not just to stop himself from admitting his uncertainty. True, he'd thought it looked right, but there were so many identical hallways here and with the pink glow they became all the more indistinguishable.

[from here]

The upper hallway was empty, at least at this end, though Lana could hear something skittering around. She checked her pocket -- ran her fingertips along the grip of the gun in the breast pocket of her jacket, but she didn't take it out. It hadn't done them much good last night, had it?

"And I didn't mean Gant, actually." Had she? Not primarily, at least, which made that not quite the truth, but only fractionally a lie. By some people's standards, that wasn't a lie at all. Her were as absolute as they had to be behind the Prosecutor's bench. Mmm. Did that make it entirely true, or entirely false? She'd meant herself when she'd said it, behind Faraday and Badd, but the subconscious was a slippery beast. So easily convinced.

So easily deceived. "Some of us are trying to learn from our mistakes, but that doesn't mean we won't make them again. I hope Ema will forgive me for what I said to keep her from coming along tonight."

[Coming from here.]

Daemon slipped from the hallway and into the stairwell, starting the climb to the second floor. His gaze searched the shadows and he'd made no more than three steps up when he went carefully still, holding up a hand to halt Renji as well. The chittering came from above their heads, quiet but definitely there, the sound familiar enough to send a chill down Daemon's spine.

"Above," he whispered in warning, moving quickly to the landing to put the wall at his back.

[From here]

How long had it been since he had run like there was a cheat code installed? He'd gotten close a couple times in the Institute, but never for very long. He was no The Flash, of course, but compared to any normal human runner, Scott Pilgrim still moved like falcon in a nose dive. ...Except instead of diving, he was running. And instead of flying in the air, he was running along the ground. And he wasn't nearly as fast as a falcon even. Okay, the analogy wasn't perfect, but it was how he felt and probably looked at a glance to others, so there.

Scott cleared the hallway in a scant few seconds, slowing down only to open the door to the next hall.

[To here]

Scott Pilgrim became aware that something was different in Landel's the moment he jumped about five feet in the air at the blaring of klaxons through M85.

No, literally, he jumped five feet in the air. He hit his head on the ceiling and everything.

"Ow! Son of a—! Unff!" Scott came crashing back down to the bed, nearly breaking the frame from the impact. Or rather he would have, had it not suddenly been covered in an impenetrable layer of glowy pink stuff. (Seriously, what was with the Institute and pink since Aguilar had come into power? First the gruel, now this. Was this the General's way of saying there was more than one reason he liked seeing strapping young men dressed in fine-ass military uniforms?)

The creepy computer voice from the previous week's portal fiasco reared its head again, announcing the most cliched and immediately understandable of all code phrases ever. Scott rubbed the sore spot on his scalp, staring up at the intercom speaker in head-trauma-induced bafflement. What... in the name of Super Metroid is going on...?

It took Scott a few minutes to regain his bearings. The alarms weren't shutting off and neither was the pink glow (force field his mind filled in as he bounced a finger off of it), so whatever was going on, it was real deal serious, moreso than anything else that had happened so far. And whatever it was, it had let him jump like he had back home without even trying. Scott shot Guybrush a look of uncertainty as he stood up, wondering if he could repeat the feat.

Scott jumped with one hand outstretched.

His hand hit the ceiling with no problem.

He backed up, drew in a short breath, then took a flying leap over his bed.

He sailed over it and went far enough to kick back off the opposite wall and land in a badass crouch on top of the mattress.

A toothy grin split open on Scott's face.

He started moving immediately. Aguilar had screwed up somehow. His stats were back up at max, and he was betting everyone else's were too. Scott wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do yet, but he knew that this opportunity probably wasn't going to come knocking again, so whatever he did, he knew it had to be epic.

Grabbing up Senna's sword plus usual gear and foregoing his flashlight (an unexpected side-effect of glowing pink walls: Night Visibility +1), he dashed out of M85, the sides of his parka flapping dramatically in his wake.

[To here]

[from here]

Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.

(What had killed that creature?)

Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.

Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.

[KIRK TO ENTERPRISE]

What in the name of all that was holy and good was going on?

Tolten couldn't begin to imagine what a 'red alert' in this place consisted of, but his instincts kicked in and he leapt to his feet with a frightened expression. He was suddenly very glad he'd eaten his weak dinner, and the greyness that swam behind his eyes didn't drag him back down to his bed.

Something was very wrong, clearly. With the prisoners or their guards? Had there been some sort of escape attempt? Night had fallen, his pipe was stashed safely in the closet as it should be....

Pipe. Weapon. Locke.

As much as the young king didn't want to venture out into whatever had just happened, he had to get to his friend. They had agreed upon the junction hallway as a meeting place, and Tolten would be there. He only hoped Locke would be, as well. What if there had been worse experiments on them tonight? And sometimes experiments went wrong.

Images of the shambling, almost-people beneath the city flooded Tolten's mind and he shuddered. No. Nothing like that had happened. He simply wouldn't accept the possibility could be truth. But it still hurried him along his way as he gripped his pipe and his torch and ventured down the hall.

[to here]

Anise couldn't get out of the Cafeteria fast enough. The stench of rotted food was overwhelming, and she was starting to feel sick. Most of her nausea came from seeing the people around her eating it, though. Even her friends! Anise didn't know what to do... What if lunch ended up being the same?

The Sun Room didn't feel like it was nearly far enough from all the rot, and Anise was convinced she could still smell it even after leaving the Cafeteria. She considered ducking into that blanket fort to get away from it (wait, blanket fort?), but decided distance was a better buffer than a pile of sheets and cushions (but seriously, blanket fort?). After giving the bulletin a quick look-over (No one had said anything about the food yet. It wasn't just her, was it...?) she decided to duck into the Library. With her privileges, Anise probably could have run off to wherever she wanted, but she figured it would be too boring to do that if she wouldn't have anyone to talk to.

Come to think of it, Anise hardly ever came to the Library, even though she liked reading. It just never felt like there was enough time to read. The first and last time she came was the day she had that fight with Aidou. She wondered how he was doing. Maybe it was about time they made up...

The last time she came, she'd been looking up Earth myths and legends. Anise wandered back to that section, looking over the rows of books as she considered giving that another shot.

While she stood there, her stomach growled, and she set a hand on it with a groan. "Like I could even stomach a meal right now..."

[Tear.]

[ from here ]

More materials. Well, she'd just step aside to let Threepwood look at it, then move on to the next door. She would have to keep records; such-and-such could be found over there, this-and-that over there.... Though the next time, she would have to make some adjustments to her route.

"Anything interesting in here?" She didn't know much about what he was seeking, if any of that adventuring experience gave him an eye for certain items in particular. Nor did she have much an inclination to know, really, but it seemed a nice topic to engage conversation that wouldn't irritate her. "What sort of things qualify as supernatural aid?"

[From here.]

The door creaked open ominously, completing the perfect picture of potential peril Guybrush had imagined the storage room would be. It wasn't until Maya's light hit the inside of the room that his fears were set aside temporarily, his curiosity piqued: revealed in the beam were the contents of the room, everything only illuminated for a moment before being swept into the darkness again. Though visible for only a second, several things had immediately caught his keen eyes. Oh, if only his pants worked.

"I'm excited even if this isn't the room we're looking for," Guybrush said with a grin, tantalized by what he'd seen. He got to his feet and wandered in, despite the fact he didn't have a light. He found out almost immediately that it wasn't his best idea: his foot hit some of the clutter in the floor, sending the Mighty Pirate™ downward with the grace of a sack of fake doubloons being tossed across a cabin.

His fall was interrupted by the intercom, which buzzed to life in the hallway in a similar way to the radio. Also like the radio, it held no good news: the military apparently had a traitor among them, and the patients who had been forced to work for Landel were refusing to do just that. If they had a name, they could turn it in and be rewarded; otherwise, they'd face the consequences- probably not just those not turning in the name, either.

"I wonder what other good news we'll get tonight," Guybrush said grimly, picking himself off the floor.

[ from here ]

Heavier topics aside, she had thought this route familiar. That was one of her concerns out of the way--only to leave another in its place. This seemed to be the only place she was allowed to enter. But for what reason? Maya didn't fancy using another night to test more theories. However, at this junction, it seemed quite inevitable. She couldn't be certain of what lay ahead if she did not, yes? How cumbersome.

But never mind that for now. "Is it a closet?" she asked, striding ahead. If she were wrong about the destination, Theepwood would simply lead her correctly, but the last time she had been here, the other doors had been locked.

[from here]

Mikado kept near to the man, half wondering if, like American fun houses, something would jump out at every turn. Nothing, in the end, and other than the creepy demeanor of the place, Mikado was wondering if there was really anything to be concerned with. It was another aspect that was just... off about this place, but it didn't seem as if there was anything really altogether strange.

He peered at Izaya nervously. "Where was it... that you were going to, Orihara-san?"

[From here]

As soon as Mikado's feet passed the threshold of the stairwell, Izaya stepped in after him. The stairs leading to the next floor were dark and quiet—perhaps that's why Mikado hadn't decided to move one way or the other before Izaya had involved himself? But the entire building was dark after lights out, so waiting at the foot of stairs trying to make a decision was no way to spend the night. Ah, Mikado should be grateful for the help!

"Good evening, Mikado-kun," Izaya greeted with a smile, as if he hadn't been the one who had just pushed the boy inside just a moment ago. "Going upstairs?"

Almost as soon as he'd spoken, the intercom clicked on, spouting gibberish.

[from here]

The last stretch of hallway was even emptier than the previous one. Maybe people had learned to avoid the medical wing after last night. By all rights, she should have done the same.

Brushing that thought away, she glanced back at Kratos. "I did manage to explore part of the wing before night ended, though. Did you?"