Standing there like a fool in his clothing, in his stupid smiley-faced t-shirt and sweatpants, Hope's brow furrowed in discomfort as he caught sight of the different bodies that were in the shower room.

No privacy. Others would be able to see him. For someone who grew up in a rather sheltered environment, this was not something he was used to at all. Even the locker rooms at school had private showering stalls! What made matters worse was that none of these people looked like adults. They were all boys like him—maybe give or take a couple years when it came to his own age in comparison, but they were definitely all underage. That made Hope feel ill inside. So they were taking children as prisoners now? He could understand why he was here, for he was a l'Cie, the enemy of humanity and the military's greatest priority. But why capture other children and then segregate them from the adults for things like this? What was going on?

They lined them up like some kind of animal. At least they were given the liberty of actually cleansing themselves. Hope didn't want to look anymore, but he also didn't want to undress. In fact, he almost wanted to just turn around and leave in spite of his desperate need to wash off everything about this place. Instead he stood rooted to the spot, a hand braced against the cool tile of the wall as he pressed the other to his forehead. A headache was beginning to take form there, and he felt colder than usual, an uncomfortable warmth radiating from his forehead.

A fever. Great.

After some prodding from a nurse Hope finally shed his clothing—albeit reluctantly—folded it neatly beside the change of clothes he'd brought, and padded inside on bared feet. Several of the boys there seemed to have the same idea he did: to grab a nozzle that wasn't too close to another. Unfortunately, this meant that spacing out the shower-heads was in short supply. Hope ducked his head and hurried past, to a coveted spot he saw in the corner. Subsequently, due to the wet floor and his own feverish, fatigued state, the youth ended up slipping on the way.

"Nn—!"

Palm outstretched to stop the fall, pressing painfully against the floor, he managed to right himself before completely falling down. Yet Hope was sure the noise and movement would have attracted attention, and he could immediately feel his face grow hot, hotter than what the strange fever would have provided. The boy quickly sought refuge in the little place he'd picked out, turning his back to the world as he fiddled with the knobs in earnest.


[FREE!]

It was the crackling rush of static that disturbed Hope's sleep in the first place. He awakened slowly, fingers dragging across his temples as a headache passed over him. The boy knew without even looking that something was greatly amiss; the atmosphere in the room told him as much, the voice over the intercom sounding thick and warbled to his sleep-fogged mind. Scarcely stifling a yawn, he peeled his eyes open and looked around.

He could barely remember where he'd been, but then it all came rushing back – the way it normally did when he opened his eyes after catching a few moments' rest. The train. The collapse of the bridge. Seeing his own mother fall, rooted to the spot, unable to do a thing to stop it. Everything seemed a blur after that, a twist on the concept of seeing one's life flash before his eyes. The fal'Cie, the cursed marking on his wrist, an endless sea of running and fighting and swallowing back his own tears...

"... more entertaining than seeing you scurry about like animals in cages..."

Hope gingerly rose to his feet. His head still felt like it was encased in a thick fog, and he'd tuned most of the announcement out— but those words had him snapping back to reality. He could not place the voice, but the words were clear as day.

He'd been taken prisoner.

Eyes widening in his face, Hope quickly sized up his surroundings. He was alone, in a small room, standing in his bare feet beside a plain bed. There was another on the opposite side of the room, but it was empty. His immediate thought was perhaps that was the bed meant for his partner, but then he quickly shook his head.

No... they wouldn't put us in the same room, Hope thought as he stared down at himself in mute shock. His clothes were gone, replaced by a plain grey shirt and sweatpants in the same colour. Not if they were smart, anyway. We'd both figure out how to escape together. There was a hideous logo on the front of his shirt, a bright yellow smiling face. It laughed up at him. Mocking him.

Is this the Sanctum's idea of a joke!?

Teeth grit in annoyance, Hope set about tearing apart the room in search of his things. Both his boomerang and Lightning's knife were gone—but he figured that would happen. He was a prisoner, after all; they would have stripped every bit of contraband off his person. But did they really have to take his clothes, too? Even his favourite wristband was gone, the thick black brand peering obscenely up at him from a pale wrist. A frustrated sound escaped him, and the youth made his way to the places he thought might contain some sign of who he'd been. The closet was bare save for a coat and a couple meager pairs of shoes. The dresser, on the other hand, was filled with clothing— more of what he was wearing, that is. Including the stupid smiley face. Growing angrier by the minute, Hope rifled briefly through its contents... and then the room became a flurry of flying shirts and undergarments as he tore through the drawers in vain, digging through everything and coming up with absolutely nothing.

Haphazardly shoving the lot of them closed with a loud bang, Hope kicked the chest once, twice with his bare foot, an angry boyish snarl twisting from his throat.

"I can't believe this!" he yelled suddenly, sinking to the floor and curling in on himself.

He was alone. Lightning was gone – either held prisoner elsewhere or perhaps even killed, who knew what the Government's motives were at this point – and he was left with nothing but this ridiculous clothing, not even a keepsake.

A few long moments stretched around him as Hope sat there, both feeling sorry for himself and yet trying to pull himself together at the same time. Lightning wasn't there to help him, but that didn't mean the things she taught him had to be in vain. Survival always came first, no matter how bleak everything looked. All he had to do was formulate a strategy. With a sniffle, Hope wiped the back of his hand across his face and stood up.

First order of business would be to finish inspecting the room. He'd spared the desk and its contents little more than a glance in the futile search for his own things, but Hope padded over to it just then—perhaps he could figure something useful of the odds and ends that seemed to be stored within. A plain book bereft of any writing sat there, as did an odd little device. A communicator of some sort, probably. Hope pushed one of the buttons and found only static; he left it there with a mental note to keep it in mind. It could be useful. Next came the inside of the desk, a few meager things there which he piled up beside the notebook. The notebook itself was given a brief furrowed look of confusion, swiped up in careful hands and its pages rifled through, but when Hope found nothing of substance—nothing at all, in fact—he set it down once more. He rummaged through the closet and dresser once more, briefly, and then the bedclothes. Curiously, the youth managed to find a flashlight under his pillow. It didn't seem to work, but he'd found some batteries in the desk drawer. He clicked them into place and turned it on once then off again, satisfied, keeping it at his side.

Next it was time to inspect the lock itself. Now, Hope had absolutely no experience in picking apart doors or locks of any type... but he figured now was as good a time as any to learn. After all, before the Purge stole his life away he enjoyed tinkering with whatever he could get his hands on. Hope padded over to the door and knelt down, peering closely at the handle as he carefully jiggled it.

What happened next was a great shock to him— the lock was, in fact, already open. Heart pounding hard in his chest, Hope glanced around the room like a deer in headlights, though instinct bid him to spring out of that room and never look back. However, he knew he had to calm himself, think this through rationally. It could have been a trap of some type, or perhaps PSICOM was toying with him somehow. The boy drew in a harsh breath and quickly moved back to shove his feet into the shoes he saw at the bottom of the closet by his bed. It would be much more safe than running out in his bare feet, after all. The coat was retrieved as well, wrapped tightly around his small frail form. It would not provide protection against bullets or Manadrive attacks at all, but Hope still felt safer within the warm covering it provided rather than without.

There was also no stupid happy face on it.

Another pass by the desk, and Hope found himself regarding the device there again with no small measure of suspicion. What was this thing, anyway? Could the military be keeping track of his movements on this? Were they waiting for him to leave just to jump upon him? Was this all a test of wills, or some odd attempt at torment? He knew that if Lightning were here, she might not have trusted the thing, either. The boy picked it up again, twisting it this way and that, finding a switch in back and flicking it. Now it was blissfully silent, even when he pressed upon the buttons. Just to be on the safe side, though, he stashed the thing under his pillow.

Flashlight in hand, Hope slid the door open a crack. Another backwards glance, and then he finally emerged from the room, cautiously slipping out into the looming hallway that awaited him...

[To here.]

[from here]

Had Brook taking his time a bit more, he might have noticed that he was the only one about in any of the hallways he crossed while heading for the second floor. He had always known his block to be a bit less populated than the others, yet had never questioned the matter as it was a good thing - the less people trapped here, the better! Still, it was strange, and on any other night would have warranted both a comment and the subsequent humming that accompanied his strolls whenever he was nervous.

Purpose drove him though, and save for keeping his eye out for any beasts that may come for him, Brook kept his focus trained on getting to the second floor and, he hoped, to his friend in time.

[gone here]

[from here]

Freezing air blew in the moment he passed through the door yet did not bother the ninja, nor slow him down. He gave the field a quick glance, noting the lack of light due to the clouds. Anything could have been out there, but he had no intention of lingering. His attention went up the wall at his right, and he raised a hand to start over. The jump was one he'd managed before and had never been hard.

Again, Brook had been forced to watch as his roommate was escorted away, and again Brook was determined to assist the man in any way possible. But first things first: he had to make sure that stepping out of his room wouldn't have him warping to the Arena. Things were just too similar to the night before that he couldn't be too sure the same wouldn't happen twice.

Taking up his sword, the man was quickly into the hallway where he willed with every fiber of his being that he would remain there. Which, thankfully, he did. The good luck continued with a few more dared steps that took him into the connecting hallway. There he finally accepted that, no, he would not be teleporting anywhere that evening.

"Don't worry Michelangelo-san!" he assured as he drew his sword and lowered it to his side, "Even if my sword finally breaks this night, I'll be sure to help you this time."

Brook wasn't about to let Landel experiment on his friend a second time. Not if he had anything to say about it!

[CHARGE!]

As the clouds began to partially obscure the dark sky, night descended upon the Institute.  When the intercom came to life again, static poured into each room.

"Actually," the Head Doctor continued with a low, sinister chuckle, "there is one more program the general insisted I keep around in order to make all of you useful to him.  But why spoil the surprise for those who might not have heard? Four of you will find out soon enough."

He sounded as though he wanted to leave it at that, but kept talking. "A word of advice to those four, though: screw up, and everyone here may suffer the consequences. Although, that would be awfully entertaining to watch. Maybe even more entertaining than seeing you scurry about like animals in cages..."

Shuffling some papers on his desk, he suddenly sounded more hurried. "As much as I enjoy our little chats, though, I'd best be going. Several of you have a special appointment...with me."

The intercom shut off again, and the doors unlocked, signaling the start of Nightshift.

Anise wasn't sure what to think when she was escorted to the waiting room. It was disturbing enough that Landel mixed up her family - and Ion! - in his stupid schemes, but the military was going to do it too? While it looked like they were pretending to follow the Head Doctor's schedule, she still felt uneasy, like they might do something unexpected and horrible to her loved ones.

Well, more horrible than what was already done to them, that was...

Despite that uneasiness, though, Anise really wanted to see Ion or her parents, even if they'd still be brainwashed. After getting no visitors the previous week, she was worried about how they were doing. Even if it hurt to hear them say all those crazy things, it meant a lot just to see their faces.

She wished they would at least tell her who was coming beforehand, so she didn't have to get all anxious while wondering... Anise didn't even have Tokunaga to comfort herself right now. All she could do was clench and tug at the gray fabric at her knees as she sat waiting in a chair, her feet dangling just above the floor.

It figured that night would end before Rita and Taura could progress any further. Rita wasn't particularly disappointed to wake up abruptly, as they had reached a dead end. Really, the institute was doing them a favor by bringing them back to the starting point, where they could regroup.

What she didn't appreciate was the loss of valuable time, and the fact that her equipment had been confiscated once again. Rita didn't have time to mess around... which was precisely why the cheery voice broadcast over the intercom only served to grate on her nerves more than usual. In fact... how was the Head Doctor even giving that announcement? She doubted he'd managed to take the institute back in such a short amount of time, though the broadcast itself was suspicious for a number of reasons. Even though she could clearly hear the man's voice, it didn't necessarily mean that he was there. She had to look at things critically.

Still, it seemed almost as if everything had returned to normal... with a few exceptions. The different staff was one, and her lack of possessions was another. It didn't seem like the staff was expecting to fool the patients into thinking this was the same old institute, so why...?

Even as she went about preparing for the day and walking to her first destination, Rita kept her most pressing questions in mind, coming up with multiple hypotheses to explain what was happening. Since she didn't expect that the Chapel would hold anything of interest to her, Rita opted for the Sun Room instead. She was interested in seeing the bulletin board, for one.

When she entered the Sun Room, Rita brought a pen and her journal with her. If no one approached her, she would at least have a chance to document her discoveries from the previous night. First, however, she checked the bulletin board, only to find it completely empty. That confirmed a few suspicions of hers. Content to see evidence supporting her ideas about the strange occurrences, Rita sat down on a couch, opened her journal, and began to write.

[Free!]

[From here.]

It seemed the he was one of the first out tonight, though Castiel was not surprised that he had adapted to this routine so quickly. Heaven had involved far too much routine, and while being able to use his wings would have sped up this process a noticeable amount, he could at least make the nightly walk go by as swiftly as possible.

The halls were empty. Some people would have been frightened of a dark, quiet hallway, and yet Castiel hardly gave it a second thought. If he felt cold spots or saw flickering lights he would be on his guard, but at this point his only concern was getting to the meeting point.

[To here.]

Sora greeted the night with mixed feelings. It would be nice to have Neku as a roommate from now on, but it also meant losing Minato and Roxas. His Other had left this place before and Sora knew that he could manage without him, but there was still something about it that left him feeling... not empty, but like he was missing something. As for Minato, it looked like some of his belongings were still here (a gun, even?), so he would need to post on the bulletin about that tomorrow.

At this point, his first priority was checking in on Kairi, and so Sora squelched his urge to invite Neku along. This was something he needed to do on his own, and Neku had already done enough for him, hadn't he? The club could continue functioning starting tomorrow and that would work out just fine.

The question was whether or not to take his gifts with him. In the end, though, he thought that it was something that should be better planned. If he got there and Kairi was nowhere to be found (which was a thought that scared him), he didn't want to have to carry the coconuts and the jewelery box with him for the rest of the night and then risk losing them or damaging them.

For that reason, Sora only grabbed the basics for the night: his flashlight and radio. If he couldn't find Kairi, he wasn't really sure what he would do, but he wasn't going to think too hard on that until it happened. If it happened.

He hoped it didn't.

Sighing and shaking his head, Sora waved goodbye to his roommate and then stepped out into the hall.

[For Venom.]

Despite the rough start and the heavier snowfall, the buses managed to stay on route and on schedule. With minutes to spare, they arrived at the gates of Landel's Institute, back to the waiting arms of the military. All pretenses seemed to drop at this point, and the soldiers again took on their patented gruff exteriors. Patients were filed out of the buses in an orderly manner, eventually being escorted to their rooms for dinner in much the same. There, as promised by the personnel, well-behaved patients found their purchases among their returned possessions. A few even found new faces, though whether they brought as much joy as bought goods remained unseen.

The woman manning the intercom seemed to have missed the notice about the day's trip as her announcement remained no different from the usual. "Attention all subjects and personnel," she said. "Lights Out will commence within the hour."

A pause.

"I repeat, Lights Out will commence within the hour. All personnel: please report to your stations. The General will begin his address once preparations are underway. Thank you."

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. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

It was hard for Guy to believe that a farfetched idea of his might actually work out in the end, seeing how rare that was in this place. Still, he had found the leather and had been allowed to buy it, which meant that the toughest part at this point would be finding tools to work with and also blocking out enough time to work on making the sheath. He realized that he could just as easily go without it, but it would be more comfortable and safer if he had one. He only wished he'd been able to buy some more leather so that he could make sheaths for some of his friends (Claude, specifically), but he hadn't wanted to push his luck.

So with the leather draped over his shoulder and the bag holding his book in the other hand, Guy allowed himself to be escorted back to the buses. There he was informed that their items would temporarily be taken from them and then returned at dinner. He honestly didn't see what the point of that was, except that the buses might get crowded if everyone had their purchases in their laps.

However, he wasn't let go that easily, since it turned out that every patient had to be searched before being allowed onto the bus. Guy could have put up a fuss, but in the end he was just relieved that it was a male doing it. He'd been searched a few times while a servant when something in the Fabre manor had gone missing and every worker had been suspected, so at least this wasn't completely new to him.

He wasn't sure how someone like Natalia would handle it, though. The fact that he could have that thought, that she was still here to get indignant, put a smile on his face.

Once the search was over with, Guy quickly moved onto one of the buses, keeping an eye out for Claude since he hadn't seen his friend all day. He wasn't worried, but he did want to talk to him and perhaps put a plan together for the night. He had no luck, though, which meant he'd just have to apprehend him once the doors opened after dark.

[To be tormented by Sync and Erika.]

Cripes, it was just getting colder by the minute. Peter was rattling inside his coat, feeling mighty sore that the cocoa didn't do him much good now once he left the restaurant. If he wasn't so stuffed he might have gone back and bought one for the road.

And he still hadn't used a single dime of his, had he? His nose wrinkled, and he turned his eyes to the horizon. The day was almost over. He didn't need G.I. Joe Murse to tell him that. (Nice disguise, Bubba.) If he didn't spend the money now, he might not get another chance. Yet every time he made his rounds he was literally drawing blanks on what to buy that would be worth the money. The thing he wanted the most was right out. There wasn't exactly a local chemist's shop around the corner, and even if there was? Fifteen dollars wouldn't cover the equipment he needed to make web fluid. It would get him a smoldering pair of protective goggles, and that would be it. Handsome as he looked in those, Peter would have to pass.

He needed to get up to that laboratory. The minute the basement quest was over, he was marching up there and making a freaking batch of web fluid, or so help him god - wait, spider sense? What are you doing here? Is it zombie hour already?

Then his foot landed on a patch of ice as smooth as Nick Fury's freshly shaven head, and all was lost.

"Hrrk!"

Shlumph!

His ankle twisted in a way God had surely not intended it to, and Peter was face down in a snowbank. The only saving grace of it all was that his poor, beleaguered back had been spared. (Though it stung something awful with his arms splayed out like that.)

[LASSIE SAM. PETER'S FALLEN INTO A WELL. GO GET HELP.]

Right now, Lightning couldn't decide if walking alone was better or worse than wandering the town's stores with Snow had been. She had no issue with going solo, of course... but it was a little uncanny to be doing it somewhere she had no information on- everywhere she'd ever been before, whether it be on a mission or otherwise, she'd always known something, but this wasn't even Cocoon, so...!

On the other hand, she wasn't having to deal with the other l'Cie's uniquely-irritating comments, nor the near-constant reminder of what the institute had apparently done to him somehow. It was something that, as terrible as it was to acknowledge it, she had no idea how to fix yet... and that he obviously didn't understand the scope of himself at all.

She let out a long sigh that quickly condensed in the air in front of her, very much still annoyed at the steady downfall of flakes clinging to her hair and clothing. At least she was quickly learning how to deal by now, keeping her hands firmly in coat pockets this time- that way, it was a little better when they hadn't had the chance to get cold in the first place.

Not that she was just wandering aimlessly, or had time to be concerned with something like the cold or... distinctly non-waterproof quality of the shoes she was wearing. She stopped, briefly frowning straight down at the snow lying gathered around her feet, before turning her gaze down the length of this latest street instead. She knew perfectly well that she was being followed by the soldiers still (it was hard not to tell when the already-sparse crowd had thinned to almost nothing at all), but couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she just made a break for it here and now. How far would she even get, equipped as she was...?

[ "...But I do know that we can't lose Hope." ]

Taura's stomach was growling, but she could be patient. Her nails were still tacky; she'd rather wear nail polish and eat lunch than vice versa.

Being out in the snow was much more pleasant when she was dressed for it; it was pretty, all clean and white. Deceptive, but pretty. Nothing about this town was what it seemed, and she wasn't forgetting that, but the weather didn't make it worse. Not when escape was already cut off; exposure was low on the list of worries. It wasn't like some of the Jacksonian brothels, the cheap ones, that assumed the cold would be enough to keep their workers there. They didn't know enough about desperation, those owners; Taura did, though they'd only once considered trying that with her, and not for very long. Hah. She could run forever, even in this, if it would get her anywhere.

Taking one of the buses wouldn't be very hard, or one of these ground-cars, but they still had to have somewhere to go. The only place she knew how to get to was the institute, and while that would be an unorthodox and unexpected move, it didn't seem like a good idea, either.

Since she didn't have a destination in mind, she just strolled down the sidewalk, watching the snow come down and waiting for her nails to dry.

[Mele!]

In all honesty, Zack would have been happy to have spent the whole rest of the day with Cloud. He didn't see what was wrong with that, but he also realized that it might seem suffocating to his friend, and more than that, Cloud had wanted to go find Tifa. Even then, it might have been better for them to stick together, but...

Hopefully they could meet tonight. That was when he really needed to make sure to keep an eye out for his friend, even if it was only for his own peace of mind.

However, he'd continued down the street and now he was almost at the other end of it, by the park. Zack realized that he needed to just pick a place and go search around it for anything useful. The bar probably wasn't the best choice there, even if it was tempting in its own way, and so he chose the place next to it, which stood out because of its bright sign and its name: Megahits Movies.

The point was he hadn't gone into this place last trip. It was right across from the kitchen supply shop where he'd gone with Cissnei last time, which just made him feel guilty, so he quickly hurried into the store.

The walls were lined with little boxes advertising different shows of some sort -- that much Zack could guess. He tilted his head at them and continued to move through the small shop, realizing that he recognized none of the faces or titles on the boxes. That was no surprise, but he had to wonder if there was any way to watch these things...

[For Hope.]

Maybe it was the sudden influx of normality (or what passed as such a thing here) along with the townspeople, but it barely took a few minutes before Hope couldn't stand to be walking along the shops down the street anymore. He didn't want to listen to people laugh and coo over gossip and shopping lists, with their smiles and happily ever after.

Instead, it was the iciness of the snow that interested him, even as he shivered within his oversized hoodie. He had never experienced weather this cold before, enough to freeze the puddles around street corners and rain ice from the skies. He would stick to the empty streets and fields, covered in a layer of white that seemed so deceptive. The noise of the town seemed to fade away these two streets away, giving way to the chirping of birds in the morning and the slight crunch of snow under his shoes. It made such a strange sound when he stepped in an untouched pile, and Hope deliberately took his time making his way down the street just so he could stick with stepping on piles of untouched snow as opposed to the areas where the snow had been cleared into a path.

He found an old bench outside the fields and tried to brush the snow off the seat with a sleeve, rubbing his hands together every few seconds to try to warm them up again. It took a few tries before he sat down, wincing at the cold before drawing his legs up and finally getting to the bag that had been given to him.

There, in the hush of the streets and the cold, he finally allowed himself to breathe freely. Before, it had been running and running... and even when he got here, it felt like he was still running. Running away and trying to figure out what was going on... not that he felt he knew anymore than he did before.

He pulled out the muffin from the bag as his stomach grumbled, thoughts continuously going over what he had learned this morning. While the food turned out to be cold (he really should have expected that), it was a welcome distraction from everything.

[For Elfangor.]

Previously, on Peter Parker's Sucky Life:

Pain, pain, fourth wall bulldozing, fire and pain, and teeny useless swords.

Yeah, so Peter wasn't feeling so hot today. It was a marked improvement on waking up after getting shanked by Grell, but this was in no way a good morning. They had all made it through the basement trials and got their dinky rewards, but man did they pay a hefty price for it. All of them. (Scott and the others had to fight robot raptors? What the hell...) Peter rose from his bed oh so delicately and with much wincing, thanking whoever it was that carried them back to bed every night for putting him belly down on his mattress.

His back, oh god. Peter seethed and hissed and grunted in pain. It felt like it was scabbing over, and the bandages yanked at the tender skin with every minute muscle spasm, every move he made. Cripes. Better his back than his arms or legs, but still. It was going to make things so difficult if they got stuck in Doyleton all over again.

Brainy was so thoroughly wrapped in his blankets on the other side of the room that Peter couldn't make heads or tails of his current state. But he'd stayed in the whole night, right? He should be fine.

Sometimes he just needed extra convincing of that. Considering the guy's track record and all.

From the sounds of it, this Aguilar guy wasn't changing too much of the routine. Being field trip day, Peter had wondered how the new man in charge would handle it (or how General Lieutenant Burger would, apparently). If he planned on letting them out at all. The announcement squashed that theory, and so did the orderly tromping in with a second-hand change of clothes. The burly man passed him the goods without so much as a word, stomping right back outside to wait behind the door. Guess they weren't going in military gear.

...Orderly? Peter pushed the door open again after performing the hastiest change of clothes he could manage in his state, peering at the man. That guy was in an army uniform yesterday. He remembered him. His buzz cut was uneven and he had a pointy old mole on the back of his neck.

"Uh. Are you going incognito?"

He was suddenly on the end of such a pointed look Peter could swear he was talking to Nick Fury. If Nick Fury was white and still had both eyes. "...Right. Okay. Lead the way, hombre."

So undercover it was. The people of Doyleton didn't know this was a military operation. Briefly, he wondered what the advantages of revealing that to the townsfolk could be, but then he remembered how they'd all up and morphed into the living dead at sundown. Put to rest any usefulness they might have had. They were just puppets, the same as the rest of the creepy crawlies in this hellhole.

Though that did beg the question as to why you would have to hide your secrets from puppets in the first place.

He was bequeathed with the usual paper bag lunch and packet of coupons, though he was still surprised to find himself a $15 gift card in the mix. Intercom Dude wasn't kidding about that?

He had money?

...What would he even do with money in Doyleton? What was fifteen dollars and worth buying that wasn't a gourmet burger? Peter boggled at the card as he clambered onto the bus. He'd never gone through the town with any inclination to window shop, so he couldn't even say what was available. He might actually have to look around. Even something simple might be a big help.

The orderly-formerly-known-as-Private-Dwight followed him on tucked a pillow into his seat for him. "Sit down. And don't do anything stupid. You'll heal a lot faster if you don't agitate it."

Peter fidgeted, but quietly settled into the pillow. This was kind of awkward. "Um. Thank you. I deeply appreciate your concern." The man nodded, and was gone.

Peter was the only one on the bus so far. The emptiness was kind of creeping him out.

[Reserved for Harvey Dent. WHY AM I TOP POSTING EVERYTHING YOU JERKS.]

> ==>

"Bro?"

He was going to be somewhere around here, certainly. If not him, then someone else. Right. Before he got any further...

Gamzee stopped in the middle of the hallway, slapping his hands together and bowing his head in prayer to the Mirthful Messiahs. He just needed to believe he'd find himself a miracle somewhere along these empty halls. If he'd gotten there, then someone or something had to have brought him. That much he could figure out on his own.

And then it was back to wandering.

> ==>

> ==>

There were halls and doors all around, but no one else to be seen. Gamzee wandered aimlessly, keeping his eyes and ears peeled as much as possible for any familiar voices. There were voices out there somewhere, at least. He could hear them. That meant someone had to be nearby. Were the voices being distorted somehow? He wasn't going to think about it. He'd simply follow them.

"Hey, bro! Best friend! You all bein' out there?" It wasn't much of a yell, but hopefully Karkat might hear it all the same.

He didn't have his clubs. In fact, he didn't even think he had his sylladex, which might be a problem later. If he ran into any imps or anything, his fists would just have to do the job. He could pretend he was Equius for a while. At least until he found Equius. They all had to be around here somewhere. Perhaps he should toss out a prayer before turning the next corner...

> ==>