[[From here]]

The quiet and darkness were almost unsettling, in their own way. He couldn't even hear his own foot-steps as he stalked quietly along, and his breathing was silent as well.

The darkness and silence reminded him too much of memories he'd only recently regained. Fox would've felt slightly less uncomfortable with the whole situation if he'd known that there were guards, or some other opponent to avoid, anything to get rid of the feeling of isolation.

At the same time, part of him was glad for the darkness and silence, moving quietly along the wall of the hallway. This was his element. When the radio crackled on in his coat pocket Fox nearly jumped.

He didn't dare turn it off in case something important was revealed, but at the same time he hoped the noise didn't attract anything. The radio man's speech, at the very least, gave him something to think about as he made his way slowly to his destination.

The second the intercom sounded, while the man on the intercom was still talking, Ashton pulled himself off the couch in the Music Room and slowly made his way to the door. He walked, glided even, as if he were a ghost in a dream. The nurses had already filed up to escort the patients to the lunchroom, and one bustled over to walk Ashton those few feet from one room to another.

"You're not looking very well, Mr. Pritchett," she said cheerfully. "Didn't you enjoy your shower?"

Ashton replied with a small, forced smile, then shook his head. He didn't feel like talking now. Though the nurses were pushy and downright annoying, he figured he owed this one at least a little explanation. They didn't know - or didn't believe - what went on after dark, but he owed them the benefit of the doubt. "Bad day," he decided on telling her.

Bad day indeed. The showers and the music had done nothing for his nerves. But then again, what could get that graphic image out of his head?

He glided ghostily through the taco line and settled on two chicken and bean tacos, with chips, a scoop of guacamole, two churros on the side, and a glass of apple juice. He wasn't used to this sort of food (save the juice) and he wasn't even sure he'd eat it, but the chances were high that he'd be able to pass it off on someone.

He was on the verge of tears again, too. What he would have given to just sit down next to a barrel and eat a hamburger.

Thank goodness the cafeteria was bare just now, too. It left all the corner tables open, the tables that shouted 'Don't talk to me, I'm brooding over here.' He sat at one, pushed his food a little away from him, and buried his head in his arms.

That hadn't felt like an entire night.

And his goddamn head hurt. Pounded, even. Enough that he wondered if he was going to end up playing another round of "Christen the nurse" this morning.

Maybe it was because he'd spent so much time and energy trying to find Nowe. That could be the reason behind both those problems. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn, made him want to fucking choke something.

Still, there was shit to do. He forced himself out of bed to put away his pens and the other leftovers from the adventures that didn't happen last night. He'd have to try to talk to Sora today, to see if they could just do tonight what they were going to do last night... and to see if the kid was doing alright.

...he just wished his head would stop hurting. That was probably the result of just how badly he'd overreached himself the previous morning.

The nurse that showed up to get him was cheerful. He grunted at her, listening to her with only half an ear until she mentioned all the excitement, about someone pretending to be a patient, all that crap that Landel had mentioned.

Renji gave her a narrow-eyed look. "Dr. Landel is a goddamn lying coward, and he's lying about that, too," he said. Whether it was true or not, there was only so much good cheer he could take on a shitty morning. "I hope he chokes on a cock." No matter how much venom he put in that statement, it wasn't enough.

Then he had to listen to a lecture about language and gratitude for the rest of the walk to the cafeteria, so maybe it wasn't worth it after all. She dragged him through the breakfast line, and he ended up with granola and toast and tea and a cinnamon roll, because not even a shitty fucking night could ruin his sweet tooth. Though that thing was looking a little too sweet.

The cafeteria was pretty much empty; he had his run of the place. He sat himself about as far from the doors as he could get, and proceeded to stare at his breakfast.

Claire woke up in her room just like before, with little idea of how she actually got there. This time, though, she noticed something different about the room. There was another young woman, a blond, sleeping in a bed across from her. Before questioning that, though, she made sure to hide the items she'd gotten that night in her closet, shutting the door and making her way back to her bed just as a peppy nurse walked in.

She cheerfully explained that now, all patients had roommates -- and then made an obviously practiced speech about how they were all to get along. After getting through that, Claire was given the option of where she'd go that morning.

Claire wasn't really a religious person -- sure, her parents had taken her to church when she was younger, and she still sometimes went on the major holidays, but that was it. She didn't really pray or go to confession or anything like that. Still, after last night especially, she was craving something relatively normal. Anything close to home. With that, she asked the nurse to escort her upstairs.

It seemed she was the first to arrive. Just as well. Claire sat in one of the pews, in the middle on the inside, as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence.

[coming from here]

Claire adjusted the radio so it now dangled from her wrist on the small string. She was still trying to work out everything the man on the other end had said. He obviously didn't want to be found, for whatever reason, but he was helping them? Did he really have a rivalry with the Intercom guy, or was this all a hoax?

She had no idea. Either way, if this radio was going to spit out anything useful, she might as well take advantage of it. Not like she had any big leads about this place anyway.

Claire tensed as she left the (relative) safety of the female block, now standing in a dark hallway. By herself.

She started walking down towards her destination, hoping she'd run into RC or Wesker soon.

Every nightshift seemed to have the scientist restless and anxious to get out of his room. He couldn't really explain why other than for simple curiosity; there was nothing to do but sleep in the cells, and how in the world could anyone sleep in a place like this?

In any case, once again Hojo ate quickly and left his room as soon as he was able, taking his notebook and flashlight. He wasn't quite confident enough to go without it yet, though other people did tend to carry theirs and doubtless his eyes would adjust if given the chance.

It didn't take very much time for Hojo to make his way to what he was fairly sure was Xigbar's room. The man had mentioned it the night before, and under normal circumstances his memory held on to things like that fairly well, so... Hojo sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the far wall. He didn't knock.

Ichigo was only too eager to leave the cafeteria and its fresh memories behind when the softened chime of the intercome rang clear. What had begun as another ordinary meal, a rather agreeable one despite the lack of the proper utensils, quickly became somewhat unnerving. His conversation with...what was his name again?...took so many sharp turns, he should've felt dizzy. It was easy to feel a little sorry for the guy, though; surrounded by stangers in a very strange place, it was hard to blame him for being so alarmed.

The Sun Room occurred as a more enjoyable choice to spend the time; he had nothing against music, but something about being surrounded by some of the most unruly characters he'd ever met, each of them armed with cacophonous weaponry, didn't sound smart. Once his nurse departed, the young man picked out a cozy little spot near a flood of sunshine and settled in, cradling his head in the palms of his hands. There, he stared up almost bitterly at the ceiling with sharply focused eyes, still exuding the same unapproachable sense of being as ever.

The room was warm, even a little comforting, for any of the tired, weary masses found in Landel's halls, or even those who just craved a little peace and quiet. All he could hear, from end of the room, were soft footfalls and hushed voices. That sounded just fine to the 'berry head.

Hikaru and Kaoru had been so caught up in their little game that they initially hadn't heard the intercom go off. The new "ding" system was far less jarring than the old SCREECH, and as such, wasn't as easily heard, even in a place as quiet as the library. All too soon, the nurses came to separate the twins and take them to the next activity--lunch.

It only felt like a few minutes since breakfast, somehow, and yet Hikaru was starved. The lunch selection was ridiculously Americanized food of the "Pan Asian" genre, as bad as when his family had wanted Japanese food in California and had gone to the "nicest" restaurant in the English language guidebook. He cringed visibly when the surly cafeteria worker poured sauce on his rice--which was supposed to be plain--but...food was food, and he wasn't feeling terribly picky right now. At least it smelled all right.

One of the good things about being the first one into the cafeteria was having his pick of the tables. Hikaru chose one of the larger ones, saving seats for Kaoru, Tamaki, and (in a fit of hopefulness) Haruhi.

He hoped they'd come soon. He hated being alone.

Dreamless slumbers were easy. There was no thought, no images of people or places you knew or ones conjured by your imagination. It was simply you in darkness until your eyelids cracked and the darkness gave way to a light you were unwilling to greet.

Barret dreamt of Marlene. Rather, he saw her visage stilled as a photo before his sight as he gasped a breath to break the chains sleep cast about him. He was in the same room he'd awoken in the night before. This morning was slightly different from the rest. It was this morning he sustained vast injuries he was acutely aware of by simply breathing in the institute air. It might as well been poisonous taint--everything about the place was taint. Only the stilled image of his angel made it seem endurable.

Yet even the remembrance of that little girl brought his heart to a chilling halt. This imprisonment seemed hopeless at every turn. It was as if every moment, if he wasn't confronted with the fact all escape was a little less than impossible, he heard new imformation to enforce this fact.

Wallace wasn't one for giving up, yet in his newest form of injury, he felt like a useless slab of meat. He recalled the days when he truly had something to offer, not only to the comrades that battled along side of him, but the little girl he grew to call his own and truly believe it in his heart.

His large hands gripped the sheets at his sides, inhaling a sharp breath not only at the pain, but the sorrow that was washing over him in a tidal wave of misery.

"Marlene..." he whispered in a trembling voice, shaking his head over and over at the troubling thoughts invading his mind. All attempts to banish them were futile, "Daddy don't know if he can get out of this one...but he gonna try..."

The words were not believable, not even as he spoke them. It was in his eyes--for the moment at least, he was giving up.

The nurses' cheerful voice barely registered as she rattled off about him missing breakfast. It didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anyway. She mentioned something about leaving the room, heading for the next scheduled activity, and nothing but complete blankness crossed his face as she continued to babble. She took his wrist, which was heavy and limp. He didn't even have the resolve to talk back to her, in which she must have seen his reluctance and silence as something more than what it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he finally saw a wheelchair positioned by the bed for convenience. Was his condition that severe? As he moved to seat himself in it with her aid, he noticed he in fact, was. He felt devestated.

It was interesting how she didn't make mention of his wounds. The clean stab through just above his gut was stitched on both sides, the gash as his knee was bandaged as was the slice at his gut. She must have thought them self-inflicted.

Maybe he really was insane.

He might as well have been comatose. His expression was non-existent as the nurse continued to ramble, pushing him down the hallway toward their destination.

When they entered the library, his care went from zero to in the negative numbers. She placed him gently at the head of one of the tables and asked if he needed help locating any books. When no answer came, she frowned but patted his shoulder in a comfort before leaving the broken patient behind.

He felt like shit.

Renji wasn't certain how he'd gotten from the room with Sora and Nowe back to his bed. He scrambled up and quickly checked; everything that he'd tucked into his clothes was still there, including the trauma shears and the start of the map. He quickly hid those things wherever they would fit - and not be too obvious. Hopefully Nowe and Sora had been safely returned to their rooms as well.

He didn't like it. He really didn't enjoy feeling even more like a passenger in his own life.

The head doctor, cheery on the intercom, was seriously getting on his nerves. Then the nurse showed up to collect him. She was annoying. He was quiet, and shuffled obediently after her, all the while contemplating just how good it would feel to punch any of the nurses, but this one in particular, in the back of the head.

Again, no rice. He got himself eggs, sausage, and toast, as well as a glass of juice. He sat down somewhere he'd have a good view of the door and started picking at his food.

Instead of waiting for Nightshift to come, Roxas had found himself crawling into bed. That day in bed he'd spent because of his head injury had left him feeling oddly exhausted, and even though he knew oversleeping would only make that worse, he tried to sleep anyway.

Rest proved to be elusive, though, and after a while of tossing and turning he had to reluctantly pull himself out of bed. Maybe he could do a little exploration - it certainly wasn't going to hurt to know where things were. He'd have to be a little more cautious than usual, though, as getting knocked unconscious by a.. giant scorpion the other night had proved. The Organization members were supposedly meeting tonight too, and hell only knew that couldn't be good.

Especially if they all held grudges like Luxord.

He wandered his way through some hallways. Maybe he could find something useful, though somehow, he doubted it. So far, he wasn't having much luck.

Junior was a bit happy that he was able to rest in the corner of the Sun Room undisturbed during the last shift. The nights were always exhausting, but he always felt like he had to go out and get something done, no matter what say shape or form these feelings took.

The redhead wasn't used to sitting around in such a small space, and especially not being in the same building for such a span of time. At least back on the Durandal, he'd been free to go anywhere safely; after the few days that he'd been stuck here, he was starting to get that 'caged animal' feeling. He didn't want to stay inside his room and get some sleep, not unless he passed out from exhaustion then and there.

When the click finally came, it seemed it hadn't happened yet. He'd been waiting impatiently, anyway; the flashlight and the rod from his bed frame that he used as a weapon were already out and waiting on his bed, and his dinner had been wolfed down almost as soon as he'd gotten it. So all that was left was to grab the things and go, which Junior did with as much speed as he could manage, quickly leaving the hall and moving around the corner towards the door that led to the rest of the building.

(( Going to here ))

scritchscritchscritch

The Gambler sat near the head of the bed, legs crossed, and wrote down a small message onto the paper. A childish threat, one that would not be even read, but it was the thought that counted. The time seemed to tick by so slowly, and though he would have none of their poisoned food, he did let the candy cane he pilfered click against teeth as he rolled it inside his mouth with his tongue.

It felt surreal, having one of those infamous Organization meeting in an asylum of all places, but what could he do? It was going to happen eventually, and gathering information on the other's timelines, as well as their abilities, would be critical to escaping this place. Besides, it was fitting, considering the mental stability of their little group.

And he thought he had enough of asylums in the last life.

'… three, two, one'

Luxord only smirked as the lock predictably clicked open, eyes moving away from the journal to glace sinisterly at the door. "And we have meeting sign."

At least he could count on this night to be an interesting one.

Well, so far the day had been rather uneventful. Except for nearly getting his teeth punched in at breakfast, obviously, but considering the circumstances Hojo was rather satisfied with the lack of violence. Even the therapy session hadn't been entirely a waste of time.

Now, though, it was nightshift, and the scientist was restless. He had yet to be productive in any way and it was starting to bother him so he ate quickly, sketching a very rudimentary floorplan of what he knew of the Institute on the back page of the notebook that he'd assumed was standard-issue. Finding his way around the first floor naturally no longer required a map, but any subsequent floors would and this way he could map them out in layers. Well, assuming there was no basement, but that was a problem for another time.

By the time Hojo heard the customary -click- of the door, he'd eaten and finished the sketch as much as he could. Anything else would have to be drawn in later, and he'd left plenty of space for the things he didn't recall from memory. Grabbing his flashlight and sticking a pen into the spiral of the notebook, the tall man quickly left his room, not entirely sure what he intended to be up to but quite sick of not having a chance to figure it out.

At least Crane felt he was more prepared for the second group. Files could only tell you so much, after all, and he hadn't expected the attitudes that some of them had had. But people were people, all different and firm in the belief that they weren't insane. Crane figured he just needed to get used to doing therapy again. Anything fairly recent and previously done at Arkham had been a formality for the mob and nothing had really gotten accomplished. Not that it would have, anyway; the men had been mentally sound, and fully aware of what they were doing. He had been toying with the idea of incorporating them into his experiments, as well, but then things had picked up quicker than expected, and now...well, he was here.

The doctor's own lunch had been spent in his office, preparing for the second group, looking through the files, and making some notes on the files from the first group of patients. He couldn't quite help but feel like the institute was foisting all the trouble-patients and the ones with an attitude on him, since there was yet another one who had been put in solitary a few days prior, but he couldn't let that get to him. Just get the therapy done, move on, and brainstorm how to make these sessions run smoother with the most worthwhile results.

(( For Albedo, Scholar Ling, Hojo, Kuronue, Karasu, Brock, and Azel ))

While Arts and Crafts wasn't all that bad, Gray Fox was greatly relieved when an intercom announced Lunch. He had almost reached the point where he was going to start eating more of the building materials.

Hamburgers. Not his first choice but he was by no means about to complain. Keeping his eyes on the so-far empty room, Fox made his way over to start the line and get his burger. Haphazardly picking out what he wanted to be on it. He wasn't a very picky eater, and, truthfully, he didn't think it was possible for a FOXHOUND agent to be a picky eater, at least, not after survival training.

The food actually did smell very good, despite coming from a cafeteria, and a hospital cafeteria at that. He took a seat that was near one of the walls and very quickly started in on his burger.

It had been difficult to figure out how many patients there were, since more had continually been brought into the arts and crafts room from somewhere else, but now, he had the feeling he'd be able to see just how large the patient population was.

And that man who looked like Snake would be here as well, hopefully.

That had been unpleasant.

Grimacing to himself, Kadaj followed his nurse to the arts & crafts room in relative silence, head down and arms crossed over his chest as he trudged slowly forward. It wasn't so much the incident during breakfast that was bothering him, and in fact if anything he thought it was absolutely hilarious, but arguing with what seemed like half the population of Landel's on the bulletin board hadn't really done much to improve his state of mind. Not much really did.

At least Yazoo was here now. That was something. Unfortunately, the other silver-haired man wasn't in the same group as Kadaj so it would be awhile yet before he got to talk to him again. Horrible thought, to be split up from him after they'd only just been (HA) reunited, but Landel's had probably planned it that way. They would, after keeping him away from his family for so long. And where was Loz?!

He was getting angry again. Shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, he didn't realize they had arrived at their destination until the nurse gently called his name to get his attention. His eyes snapped open again, and after giving her a vicious glare, he stalked into the room and found a nice, secluded area to sit in, utterly baffled at the presence of... candy and frosting?! Just what the hell were they planning?! Well, he wasn't going to fall victim to it, whatever it was. They could try this on someone else.

Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, he closed his eyes again and made an effort to compose himself. The more unstable he became, the more childish he became, and it was all too likely he'd lash out at the first person who talked to him. He couldn't let that happen. Mother would be disappointed. Yes. He had to think of her. She wouldn't want him to let the people here get to him. He would persevere. She'd be so proud when she saw him again. Ha ha...

A much more familiar expression of smug self-assurance began to creep onto his features, and he let it slowly grow until he at least looked like his usual self. There, see? All better.

Scar felt as if he'd passed out as soon as he'd gotten to his bed due to the admittedly strong fatigue and pain that having a badly injured arm tended to cause a person to feel, even one as conditioned and battle-worn as the stern-faced Ishbalan. He woke up feeling rested but regretful, and his fear that he'd wasted a Nightshift ripe with the possibility of discovered items and means of escape was confirmed as the intercom's metallic voice came forth and a bright-faced nurse opened the door and beckoned him towards the burly orderlies who were supposed to take him to breakfast.

The Ishbalan frowned a deep, dark frown. He wasn't quite sure if he could count the shameful number of days that he'd spent like an animal in a cage, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He'd been tired lately, after all; perhaps some of the sentiment of hopelessness that certain other patients tended to exude was contagious for those who had seen more than their fair share of life and its losses. But no; simply wading in self-pity was no way to get things done; to use one's own self-loathing and use it as a motivation in the struggle for redemption--that was the salvation that Scar truly sought. Last night had fallen victim to physical exhaustion, but tonight he would increase his efforts tenfold to make up for the lapse into lethargy.

First, however--pancakes.

The days of the breadbasket seemed to be long gone as Scar entered the near-empty cafeteria with some feeling of foreboding that he was the first one to get his meal and sit down. He'd gotten pancakes and sausage, and more than a few fruits, not for the fact that he especially trusted the food here but for the fact that fresh goods had been few and far in between upon the harsh lands of Ishbal.

Scar's red eyes darted from the nearest nurse to the main entrance, and with hunger and thirst that no logic could quench, began starting in on the food.

Whatever luck seemed to have completely abandoned him the past few nights apparently had the decency to follow them into the new hall.

---unlike the rats. Thank god... or something.

The slam of the double-doors behind them reverberated loudly through the hallway, but it was nowhere near as deafening as the silence that followed. But off in the distance, far to the left, Vincent swore he heard a faint scream. A quick flashlight scan over gleaming, descending-order room numbers told him more than he wanted to know.

Elena. She was in F2, the direction of the distant clamor.

He glanced wordlessly at Dias for a long moment, doubtful how much farther the man would follow him, before shining his light down the dividing hallway and breaking into a silent, paced run.

As Ginji was ushered through the halls towards the cafeteria he felt a little dizzy. He felt like something was very, very wrong but he wasn't sure what. It wasn't just the fact that he had woken up in the middle of some strange place, or the fact that Ban was no where to be found. Something else was wrong. Something important. Something that he should be noticing but wasn't. He was sure that if Ban was here his partner would have figured it out a long time ago, but Ginji was at a loss. He realized he should be asking questions, demanding to know things, but by the time he opened his mouth to ask anything the smells of foods distracted him.

"Can I really have all the stuff the voice on the speaker was talking about?" he asked the nurse. He found it hard to believe that he could have eggs and waffles and sausage and fruit and cereal. That and he could have milk or juice instead of just water. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten so much. Probably one of those rare occasions that he and Ban didn't lose all their money before they could spend it. His mouth was drooling at the thought. That much food... all at once. It was like a dream. This had to be a dream. That would explain why he felt so out of it, so sluggish.

The nurse nodded and then handed Ginji a plate. He took it and, still not entirely sure that he was really going to be able to eat all of this, began putting food onto it, cherishing every item like it was platinum.

When he made it to the table he sat down and looked at the piles of food he had picked out. He looked at the fork he had also grabbed a little curiously before stabbing at some eggs. Strange. He brought the breakfast to his mouth and cautiously took a small bite.

It was really good!

Suddenly Ginji seemed to be a master at using the fork to shovel massive amounts of food into his mouth as quickly as possible. It was all so good and tasty! He completely forgot that he was in a strange place and that it was probably a bad idea to eat the food they gave him. It felt very good to be able to eat and eat and eat. He didn't even take a moment to realize that Ban wasn't there to steal what he was eating.