When the shift changed, HK stayed put. Even after a long night of zombie killing, he had no interest in meatbag fuel, especially after all the discussion of chocolate with that rather strange meatbag. It was just making him crave the stuff even more than he had previously, if that was possible.

Oh, right. He was supposed to be looking for someone who was "VERY LARGE, WITH DARK HAIR." And also seemed to not know what lower-case letters were on the bulletin. As if that would help. He'd seen a likely candidate last shift, but talk of chocolate had distracted him.

[ from here. ]

Hijikata ran as far down Main Street as he could before making a sharp left turn onto a less populated street, trusting the intuition that told him to "take the road less traveled" and get out of the places with lots of people, because zombies eat people and if there were some hundred mayonnaise-lathered beef-dons parading on one street all together, you'd go with that flow, too.

He remembered only a little about this street from hearsay and maps, but there really were fewer zombies here (even if the number present was still staggering). The flip side to there being fewer people, hence fewer zombies was that the zombies that were here were zeroing in their focus on him. Hijikata thought briefly that he might have miscalculated when he ran headlong into a semicircle of undead corpses halfway down the block.

This is really starting to piss me off, he thought irritably as he came to a stop in front of them, pausing for a moment to glance at what parts they had left to attack him with before turning his head and finding that the Nailpolish Trio had followed him onto this street as well.

Oh, hell.

[ to here. ]

Tim knew he shouldn't go and eat some greaseball burger meal, but really, the calorie content of a meal that he might actually enjoy was the furthest thing from his mind. Might as well get some use out of their bogus coupon book. It still struck him as really odd; this wasn't how mental facilities worked. It seemed like ridiculously low security to him, even with all the staff milling about.

Well, whatever. He was hungry and the sack lunch just wasn't doing it from him. So he ordered his meal, complete with the greasiest fries in the state of New Jersey, apparently, and sat at a table. The jeans were still annoying him. The skinny jeans fad was stupid, as far as he was concerned, because the pants were designed so tight that they were actually falling down if he sat. Wonderful. The next person he saw wearing these things voluntarily was getting punched in the face, just for being a moron.

...Okay, not really, but it was nice to entertain the thought.

He was glad to be away from Alfred for a few minutes, to clear his head. He wasn't sure where the butler - er, right, gentleman's gentleman - had gone, but he knew Alfred wouldn't follow him into a fast food place. Anyway, if there was anyone that knew how to take care of themselves in weird situations, it was Alfred. He'd be okay.

HEven with all the grease, the fries were palatable enough, and he opened another ketchup packet, glad for the chance to just sit here for a few minutes and think.

[Waiting for one impulsive speedster, and possibly one Superman clone.]

[in M7]

Hanatarou had managed to choke down about half of his dinner before finally giving up and pushing the tray away. With a glance back at Sora to make sure his roommate wasn't looking, he'd opened the closet door to get his uniform and started to change; he thought that if he was going to act like a healer he could at least look like one. Right?

He was just settling his pack in place when the intercom went off, and he gave a startled glance back toward the speaker. The announcement was creepy and disturbing as usual, but considering that he was already a bundle of nerves as it was...well, there wasn't really a visible impact on him. There were supposed to be two people - two strangers - coming by to be healed, and he hoped that he'd be able to help them.

The healer paused for a moment, staring blankly at the imitation Hisagomaru in the corner of the closet before finally deciding to leave it there for the time being. He'd have to see how he felt after trying to heal two people before deciding what he was going to do next.

When the intercom's jingle sounded, there seemed to be some kind of tapping in the background noise, like letters being punched into a keyboard. It stopped and the Head Doctor chuckled.

"Hello, everyone! I'm actually taking a break from paperwork for once – everyone needs some recreational time, you know! – and of course, now we can all look forward to a scrumptious dinner from our cooks. Tonight, herb-seasoned grilled salmon is on the menu, served with buttery mashed potatoes and asparagus. All our regular drinks and vegetarian options are available, and for dessert, we will be serving yellow cake with a whipped cream icing.

"...Well! I can hardly wait to get my own dinner after saying all that. Good bye for now, everyone, and enjoy your delicious food!"

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. (Find all of the newly changed room assignments and shift introductions here.) If you are introducing your character during this shift, you may either choose for them character to wake up before their roommate gets back, or after. ]

Scar had realized it during the announcement after breakfast, and he had proceeded to create reluctance for it during the whole day, right until this very moment. Today was shower day. Shower day.

The staff had to practically drag their charge into the damp rooms after lunch. Had he been in the possession of his old nails, he would have stubbornly dug them into the floor ironically similar to any house-cat to prevent the nurses from moving him one inch closer to the water. For now he could only protest.

Because Scar hated water. And he hated getting wet even more, which was the inevitable consequence of coming into contact with water.

Unfortunately, he was pushed into the damp rooms even despite his protests with the order to 'clean himself'. The former feline knew that he wouldn't be allowed to leave before he had least made an attempt at the human version to clean himself - which the nurse's stern words only served to confirm - but that didn't quite cease his protests. It took a threat of sedation and to be washed by the nurses for Scar to finally move to one of the many empty shower-stalls.

And that was how far is 'cooperation' would go until now. Though he had endured this hellish experience more often since his stay here, Scar eyed the shower-head as if it would spit molten lava instead of water.

Endrance turned his head to look at the intercom, giving it a look that would wither an entire rose garden in an instant. He would never get used to ending up in his room again from somewhere else in the Institute.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not sitting up just yet. He could tell already that his torso had been heavily bandaged, even more so than it had been the night before. The cuts on his arms were covered with fresh bandages, and the one on his cheek seemed to no longer be there at all.

Endrance had been expecting to wake up in a lot of pain, but even that seemed numbed. "They must have given me something," he murmured quietly, as he slowly sat up.

At that moment, his nurse came to get him, pushing a wheelchair along with her. "Peyton, dear, good morning. I've come to take you to breakfast, so..." He shook his head. "I'm fine. There's no need for that...I can walk perfectly well."

She sighed. Well, if he insisted, she wasn't going to stop him. She motioned for an orderly to take the chair away, and walked him to the cafeteria. Once they had gotten there, she pointed him toward a seat, then set a full tray of pancakes covered with syrup, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Now eat all of that, Peyton, or else you won't be strong enough to keep walking like that."

He glared at her back as she walked away, then stopped suddenly. There was that faint pulse he'd felt the night before...it was exactly the same.

And so he completely ignored his food in favor of staring at the cafeteria doors, looking at every patient that came in.

[thread will be closed to Haseo. ♥]

[Currently in M01, from here.]

Kurt exhaled loudly and suddenly when Kon sat on him. Jeez, way to knock the wind out of someone! Kurt was barely half Kon's weight, he would be crushed!

"I said I give! Give!!" He shouted, struggling to get Kon off of him. The announcement came on, though, and he looked up to listen.

He was... snoring now. Seriously, someone had to smack this guy one. He looked back up at Kon, everything a bit clearer in the dim light now. His tail slid out from under his body, and it poked Kon's leg as if to say, 'I'm being crushed here--help?'

"My powers hurting me?" he frowned. "No, but I haven't really used them. Except for that one time when I fell off the ceiling." And how embarrassing had that been? Oi, he'd never live it down. "Why? Are yours hurting you?"

What a singularly delightful evening he'd had. It was dampened, of course, by two things, but those were small things and he supposed he could overlook them for now. First was that his powers had still not returned. If he truly were on punishment as he thought, though, he couldn't very well expect those to come back. Second was that the little brat had gotten away and was likely gearing up to blow his cover. That was something a little more concerning, but he had a story he could use to sweep all that under the rug. Still, he'd gotten a beautiful box of scalpels out of the deal and even with the annoying pain of his skin being irritated by the drops of acid, he wasn't any worse for wear.

And just as he thought that, Grell woke up in his bed, disorientated as he had been the previous night, still cluthing the box of blades, but no longer in his own clothes. The indecency of it all! Honestly! To strip a lady when she was unconscious was just unheard of! Stupid future and its stupid lack of any sort of propriety. At least it seemed someone might be dead according to the last announcement. That brightened his day a bit.

Getting out of bed before Mr. Grumpyface did, he hid the box of scalpels in his desk and sighed. His old glasses were gone, replaced with the ruddy circular pair and his clothes had been all but ruined the night before. He doubted he could do much for them either, since he'd been the one to rip the sleeve off. Such a shame, but it had kept him from getting permanent scars on his arms.

It wasn't long before the nurse came and Grell once again put on his lovely little play for her. Confused, bumbling and asking for a hair tie, he was perplexed by the little round elastic thing he received in return, but used it anyway to put his hair back. Led into the cafeteria, Grell realized he was the first one and took a bit of breakfast before finding a seat.

[free]

[In M1]

Kurt felt a slight chill run down his spine. The tones of the two announcements were so different, it was chilling. And sleep experiments? That didn't sound good. No one had told him about the sleep experiments. But he supposed that since it didn't have anything to do with him, he shouldn't be too worried for the time being. Maybe Steve would know.

"I suppose I should go meet my friend," Kurt said, smiling a little at Kon. He didn't really want to go out there.

And once he realized that his pointed ears, fawn legs, prehensile tail, fangs, yellow eyes, and blue furry skin had returned, he really wouldn't want to go out there.

I wouldn't really call this a locker room. More like a bathroom with lockers. The place was uncomfortably crowded, with almost every adult male patient being hustled into the showers at once, but Phoenix wasn't as annoyed by the claustrophobic, milling throng of bodies as he might have otherwise been. Every extra person was one more person who might end up standing between himself and Edgeworth.

He knew that the prosecutor would have a fit if he found out about this. He'd known since he'd tacked that first response up on the bulletin board. And in a way, he couldn't blame him. Phoenix knew that he jumped into things all-or-nothing more often than most people. At the same time, he had some kind of reality testing. He wasn't going to learn the basics of how to defend himself and suddenly decide that he was Rambo.

He found an unoccupied locker in the southwest corner and glanced around, trying to gauge how long he could possibly stall in a locker room, looking as if he was expecting something, before people started looking at him strangely. It would have been easier if he'd known something of the description of the man he was supposed to be meeting. As it was, all he had was handwriting and a military rank, neither of which guaranteed any particular appearance.

It's not as if there was a better way to plan this, though. "Yeah, meet me by the lockers. I'll be wearing gray and a smiley face, just like about a hundred other guys."

[for Hughes]

[for Sylar, I believe]

At the sound of the intercom, Wally jerked awake and blinked around at the room. He’d fallen asleep. He should have been up and keeping an eye open for ZEX, but he’d fallen asleep waiting on his bed.

“Idiot,” he groaned, ruffling his hair and sighing in annoyance. “Way to help a guy out, hotshot.” Hopefully ZEX hadn’t dropped by and thought he’d left or something, or wouldn’t be too mad at him for just forgetting about it like that. If he was lucky, he’d be able to catch up with the other patient at some point and explain what had happened.

Rolling himself a little awkwardly out of the bed, Wally took the opportunity to stretch his injured leg and test how well it was holding up. It was feeling a bit better, not so much that he could abandon his crutch or that it didn’t pull painfully if he wasn’t careful, but better. Tony had apparently made it through the night in one piece as well, which was a relief. He really didn’t feel comfortable about the thought of his roommate wandering about on his own with an injured arm. Not when Wally himself could relax and fall asleep in the apparent safety of their room.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to let himself forget that one in a hurry.

It was at that moment that the door swung open to admit one of the nurses. She seemed surprised to find him awake and ready to go already, but smiled warmly. “Hungry, are we Mr. West? Well in that case, let’s get you to the cafeteria. The staff have provided some delicious French Toast as well as a range of other foods I’m sure you’ll like. Now will you be needing a hand with your leg, dear?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” Wally replied, smiling back. After all, it probably wasn’t the nurses’ fault that this place was so messed up, so it wasn’t like picking fights with them would do anything. With a cheery wave goodbye, Wally slowly made his way to the cafeteria, keeping a tight grip on his crutch all the while. Obtaining a plate of food was only slightly less difficult than it had been yesterday – he didn’t have the painkillers to work around this time – but he managed well enough, coming away from the buffet with a tray containing a plate piled high with slices of French Toast and slathered in maple syrup, butter, and sugar, as well as a glass of juice. Not quite as good as some coffee would be right now, but the sugar would hopefully make up for it. And, with how few people were here at the moment, he could afford to take more food than might have been considered ‘normal’ – he’d have most of it gone by the time anyone came to keep him company, then he could just worry about how many extra serves would be allowed before he aroused suspicion.

Feeling pretty happy with how things were looking so far, Wally hummed faintly to himself as he dug in to his breakfast.

(M6)

And now it was nighttime.

Hughes had ignored dinner, for the most part, only bothering to make sure he put aside the juice. He reclined on his bed, lost in thought, and trying to make sure he got all the sort of thinking that would distract him later out of the way.

It had been a long as hell day. And it wasn't over, not by a long shot. How many people were supposed to come by tonight? He'd lost track. He had a list to give to Ed, and it looked like a dozen plans to make, and tomorrow would bring more of the same.

And somewhere in there, he needed to find time to properly grieve.

Now wasn't the time, though. He got up once the intercom started its nightly tortures on the ears and ran a hand through his hair. Soldier's work was never done and all that. And while he knew damn well how to lead...

This was supposed to be Roy. He was the help, the behind the scenes, the support. That was how it had always been. This...this wasn't right. If anyone should have been taken or killed or whatever it was the institute did, it should have been him.

Well, he'd just do what he could.

Thursday had thought - almost hoped, really - that Landen would have paid her another visit today, but when she asked her nurse about it, she was only answered with a sympathetic smile and a "Maybe next week, Mrs. Bellman."

She hid her disappointment quickly - after all, he wasn't really Landen, was he? - and requested to be taken to the library instead. In some ways, she supposed, it made finding Tsubaki easier - there wouldn't be any confusion about when they were supposed to meet.

Selecting a copy of Brave New World, she settled down and skimmed through the pages, keeping an eye on the door as she did.

[waiting for Tsubaki!]

Miku hurried away from her new friends (and kitten) to the cafeteria. For some reason she was just terribly ravenous. Her nurse smiled, relieved that her patient had finally chose to eat something and wouldn't continue that backslide into poor health. She loaded the girl's plate with French toast and fruit, dusted the bread in powdered sugar and a bit of cherries in red-red syrup and sent the girl to sit.

"There we are, Alice, a nice healthy meal," she cooed, and patted Miku's head. Miku sighed, but carefully cut into her meal and started eating, keeping her eye out for Sousuke.

[From here.]

The deserted hallway meant this was either a place that wasn't worth going or that patients simply didn't know to check here. Sometimes the most interesting things were hidden in plain sight, which meant that Roy wanted to look around despite the fact that it might not amount to anything.

There certainly were a lot of doors to check, after all. He let out a small sigh as he looked over the rows of them on both sides of the hallway.

At least this place seemed relatively safe. He tried for the first door on the left and found that it was locked, so he automatically started grabbing for his keys.

[From here.]

The silence in the stairwell was slightly eerie, and Roy tried to catch snippets of conversations from either above or below them as he went step by step.

"Now I have to try and remember where I left off," he said to both himself and Hughes with a small smile, doing his best to lighten the mood. He had made some steady progress with searching the second floor's locked doors, but it had been a while since he had gone on this particular "mission."

Still, he trusted in his memory. He would know where he needed to go once he was seeing it with his own eyes again.

[from here]

Siegfried led the way along the main hallway and past the balcony looking down on the Sun Room, constantly on the lookout for anything that might sneak up on the two. He expected that they would hear something before they were attacked, but that may not always be the case. It was better to be safe than sorry.

As they walked, Siegfried spoke quietly to Xelloss. “There’s a storage room at the end of this hallway where they keep the batteries. We can search there first.”

[from here]

There was no one in the hallway at all when the two reached the second floor. No sign at all of anyone, which struck him as strange since usually there were at least voices or light from other patients’ torches.

Siegfried did not want to linger in the hallway, not when it would put he and Xelloss at risk of being attacked.

“Stay close by,” he said, looking back over his shoulder at the dark-haired man.

[from here]

The top of the stairwell led to... another hallway. It looked a lot like the one they'd just left, complete with looming shadows and a sense of impending doom. Wally was starting to get really sick of it. If he was going to have to walk everywhere at this insanely slow speed, he could at least have gotten something slightly more interesting to look at. Or course, 'interesting' in this place seemed to mean 'monsters about to kill you', so maybe he shouldn't complain that much. Besides, at least he could keep talking at Tony while walking. "So, I don't suppose you've got a weapon on you at all? In case we do get attacked?"