The night hadn't been nearly as productive as Loki would have liked, though he didn't feel all that upset about it. He had all the time in the world, as far as he was concerned.

He would have to keep an eye out for those showing very visible signs of infection. It seemed to be a very rapidly progressing disease, which was interesting, but not necessarily all that helpful. Of course, the question of humanity was cute in terms of philosophy, but considering that Loki had never been human and had no desire to lower himself to that level, he found it amusing more than threatening. It would probably set the mortals into mental paroxysms, though.

The prospect of visiting the town Soma had told him about, that was certainly more interesting, and possibly useful. Particularly considering they were apparently to be given some money to spend. There had to be a book store in the town at the very least, an possibly something more useful. He had serious doubts that he'd be allowed to purchase anything overtly useful like specialized tools, but the knowledge was far more important and books were the best place to focus.

Loki smiled prettily enough for the nurse when she showed up and took the clothing offered. It was slightly less painful to look at than the normal horrible uniform - jeans and a green flannel shirt, though he wasn't enamored of the plaid pattern. The outfit also included a black jacket and gloves, necessary since the weather was still cold. He made certain to tuck his notebook and a few pens into the jacket, since even if he wasn't allowed to purchase useful books, there would no doubt be an opportunity to take notes.

And he had a message he wished to pass around as well. Hopefully there would be some sort of bulletin board in the town. If not, it could always wait another day he supposed. That didn't tend to make people less dead.

Loki went quietly to the bus, accepting the sack of food and the little booklet of coupons. He examined the card that came with it for a moment - apparently that was the money equivalent - then looked through the coupons. Really, of the choices the massage and the manicure sounded the nicest. He was particularly wary of the 'tasty meal' since in his experience, anything with 'tasty' actually in the name was destined to be anything but.

With his normal air of amusement mixed with despair at the general state of food in this place, he started picking through what passed for breakfast.

[Send me an angel!]

The line of questioning that Rita had begun at breakfast still plagued Loki, as did his own uncomfortable feelings about the entire concept of people being transformed into monsters. It wasn't a useful line of thought, and he needed a better direction to consider.

Hopefully, conversation with Soma would provide that. While she seemed quite stern at times, Loki found her presence oddly relaxing.

Though he had to wonder if perhaps he wouldn't end up seeing her this shift after all, since she might be included in the group that was being herded to the showers. (As much as the statement also was one he greeted with relief, since he was wondering when he'd get an opportunity to bathe. The thought of being trapped in a building with a great many mortals and no bathing facilities had been too horrifying to contemplate.) He'd always been a bit bad at guessing the ages of mortals, mostly because they were so ridiculously short-lived.

Having already established a neurotic fear of the cold with his nurse, there was no difficulty convincing her that he'd be much better off in the Sun Room. Loki settled into his habitual seat, taking a moment to coax one of the cats into his lap. All settled in, he propped his notebook on the arm of the chair and went back to writing.

[Soma?]

A misplaced sense of familiarity met Barnaby the moment he opened his eyes, and the sight of the blank, white ceiling from yesterday morning greeted him. After rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, Barnaby sat up and felt around for his glasses. Had he blacked out again and wasted an entire night? Where was Kotetsu? And what had become of the man who had seemingly vanished before his very eyes at the end of dinner?

Once Barnaby slipped his frames onto his face, the world came into clearer focus, even if he didn’t get any answers out of it. He was in his room, and someone had apparently stripped him out of his street clothes in favor of the hideous hospital pajamas. Barnaby wasn't sure what he found more offensive -- that someone here had once again touched his things without his permission, or that he’d been undressed while unconscious for the second time since his arrival.

The thought made his skin crawl.

Just as he looked over to find a lump in the bed next to him, though, his assigned nurse came to retrieve him. He would have to confirm Klavier Gavin's whereabouts later. For now, he had no choice but to allow the nurse to escort him into the cafeteria. Strangely, she seemed to be under the impression that he and the other patients had slept soundly the whole night. While he might have assumed it was an act, Barnaby got the feeling that she genuinely believed what she was saying.

Regardless of her intentions, he knew she wasn't going to be any help. Instead of trying to ask her anymore questions, Barnaby left a note on the bulletin board concerning his roommate. If his observations from yesterday were any indication, he'd get some responses, at least. While he could have taken the time to leave something for Kotetsu, Barnaby didn't feel inclined to do so, especially when he knew he probably wouldn't check the board anyway.

He had no appetite this morning, but his nurse wouldn't leave him alone until she'd assembled a tray of fresh, fluffy pancakes for him. Honestly, Barnaby didn't see why some people felt the need to butt into his personal choices like this. At least there wasn't anyone forcing him to eat -- for now, at any rate. He sat down at an empty table close to the wall after setting his food down, privately hoping that she wouldn't try to find a "friend" for him to eat with this morning. He was tucked out of the way, so maybe she would forget about him for a few minutes as long as he didn't draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

Hands neatly clasped on the table, Barnaby didn't look at anyone in particular as patients filtered into the cafeteria for their morning meal. There were too many questions buzzing in his mind for him to focus on the names and faces of people he didn't care about. If Kotetsu wanted to find him, he could. It wasn't like Barnaby was going anywhere.

[For Kotetsu.]

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.

[In M24.]

In the end, Peter hadn't been able to do a thing while Sam had been taken by the soldiers. Even though they'd made it clear that it wasn't for the normal things -- experimentation or brainwashing -- he couldn't help but feel both nervous for his roommate and useless over not being able to stop it. But Peter had his own plans for the night and while the soldiers didn't seem as quick to sedate them as the nurses had been, he hadn't been able to take a chance with that.

"Hang in there, Sam," he directed at the door that his roommate had disappeared through, dragging a hand through his hair as he did his best to calm down. First Sam had been called out to meet that lieutenant (or whatever the rank was; Peter wasn't good at that kind of thing) and now he was suddenly being dragged somewhere by soldiers in the middle of the night. It definitely stood out, and not in a good way.

However, Peter could only worry so much about that, seeing how he had people who would be dropping by to give him extra supplies. Soma he knew, if only from a brief meeting right after she'd been experimented on, but the other girl -- Utena, right? -- would be new to him. Still, the fact that she'd made a post to offer up supplies to whoever needed it already made it clear that her heart was in the right place.

He only hoped that they both showed up quickly. He was going to have to go meet up with Max afterward and while he doubted that the man was going to rush off somewhere, he still didn't want to make him wait. With how nervous the guy had been during their talk earlier, he'd probably assume the worst and Peter didn't think Max needed to worry more than he already was.

Of course, expecting people to rush when they were doing him a favor was asking far too much, and so Peter did his best to be patient, taking a seat on his bed as he tried to relax. There wasn't even an announcement for him to mull over to pass the time, and so in the end his thoughts simply returned to worrying over Sam. He knew his roommate could take care of himself, but all of the possibilities of where he might be going kept flitting through Peter's head.

[Waiting for Utena and Soma, then going to meet ZEX Max.]

The dinner announcement came as something utterly unexpected. Rather than Harrington's excited tones, the calm accented voice of the General drifted through the intercom speakers.

"Code 1-8. I repeat: Code 1-8. All personnel are to report to your stations. No exceptions."

The intercom clicked off, leaving no explanation behind. The staff appeared to take the words to heart, however, as evident by their thin-lipped faces and snappy tones to the slower patients. They were in an obvious hurry to get everyone back to their rooms.

For what cause, they refused to divulged.

[ Those participating in the forced drug trials, please ensure to read this lounge post before posting to dinner. Thanks! ]

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of felt like she was floating and bobbing in the water.

But she was alive.

Knowing how close she came to death last night, and remembering the lengths her friends had gone to in order to save her, there was no way Anise could let a little discomfort get her down. She had to be at her best today so she wouldn't seem ungrateful to Guy and Claude. On that note, she had to remember to thank them properly, now that she was better able to express herself.

While getting ready, Anise was surprised to actually run into Claude that morning. He came to her room asking for the notebook he stored there (or maybe it was an excuse to see her cute face again), so Anise happily located it and handed it over. She was pretty tired, but the big smile she gave him was genuine. Who wouldn't be happy to see her savior so soon after a dramatic rescue?

After he left, Anise finished re-tying her pigtails into a low position so the military beret would fit on her head, and then she was ready! Even though her stomach wasn't feeling that great, she figured sitting down to a decent meal would help normalize it. And luckily for her, she was among the few who had the privilege of eating such a meal. Anise filled a plate with french toast topped with syrup and fruit, accompanied by small portions of each of the available side dishes.

It looked like she was early, which meant there weren't a lot of people around. That was okay, though. Anise could get a good head start on her meal before any company came around. She sat down at a table by herself and started on her sausage first.

[for Tolten!]

Speaking with Sam every night at dinner was almost always bound to be interesting, but this time really took the cake. Peter couldn't believe that his roommate had actually gotten to talk to one of Aguilar's highly ranked men. He wondered if that was going to become a trend or if it had been a one-time thing -- and even after hearing Sam's theories, it was still hard to pinpoint what they'd hoped to gain from the whole thing. Information, yes, but there had to be more to it than that.

The timing seemed even more deliberate when the intercom came on and it was Aguilar who spoke. The man hadn't asserted himself very much up until this point, but now he was in full force. Peter couldn't help but stare up at the intercom as the general became more and more forceful with his words.

He seemed to think he was somehow better than Landel because he punished and rewarded them depending on how useful they were, but in the end they were still caught here, being tortured and messed with in every way possible. Aguilar offered an option to go test some drugs of his like it was the most tempting of prospects, and yet it just disgusted Peter.

Drug trials were things that were supposed to be treated with care. Subjects were picked out carefully and monitored closely, along with being compared to a control group. Aguilar was turning into some free-for-all where he was basically forcing desperate patients to try something potentially dangerous because they needed a weapon.

And maybe Peter did too. He could have done with something other than his shovel, but there was no way in hell he was stooping that low. He wouldn't blame others for going for it, even if it made him sick just thinking about it. He, however, had people to save. Aguilar might have been tooting his own horn, but that was while he was busy kidnapping people to experiment. Peter had been there waiting outside those exam rooms for a few people already, and he was going to keep up the trend, seeing how it seemed to be the best use of his skills thus far.

His duffel bag had to be repacked seeing how all of his items were taken in the morning and then shoved into that metal box each night, but at least Peter had worked out a system now. He didn't know if he'd run into anyone on the way, but he was willing to go on his own (against his own advice) if that was what it took.

Granted, he had agreed to meet up with at least one person, and that was Albedo. The boy kind of gave Peter the creeps -- he wasn't afraid to admit it, at least not to himself. Still, that shotgun that was sitting under his bed belonged to him, even if Peter didn't like the idea of someone so young actually using it. He couldn't just take it from the kid if it was his only form of protection, and so he'd arranged to return it despite his reservations.

Before leaving, Peter took a moment to change into the military uniform. Even if he didn't agree with Aguilar's methods, he preferred the way the blue shirt and slacks fit when compared to the gray shirt and sweatpants. Once he was dressed appropriately, he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his shovel with one hand and the shotgun with the other. Finally, he glanced to Sam with a crooked smile. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." In all seriousness, he hoped that Sam's meeting earlier wouldn't lead him to making any reckless moves. Hopefully his roommate would be able to pick up on his concern, even if he wasn't verbalizing it.

He had places to be, though, and so that was all he said before turning to the door, stepping through it, and heading down the hall.

[To here.]

Edgar's charming company had raised Anise's spirits enough that not even the Head Doctor's voice could bring them back down. Besides, she was feeling pretty sure that Landel wasn't actually around. To begin with, it wouldn't make sense, and secondly, his announcements sounded suspiciously like ones she'd already heard before. While Anise wasn't very familiar with Earth technology, she'd seen the little devices in the Music Room that could play recordings of people's voices. This had to be something like that.

It wasn't long before Anise was escorted to the Cafeteria, and then to the section where edible food was being served. As she filled her plate with waffles, fruit, and sausages, she looked to the other side of the counter with a look of sympathy. It was hard to enjoy her own meals while knowing what the other patients had to suffer through.

She wasn't about to refuse her meals just out of guilt, though. Anise needed her strength for tonight. There was still a bit of a nervous twist in her stomach whenever she thought about what could happen down in the basement... but she wasn't going to back down. Not after promising her friends they'd go together.

With her tray in hand, Anise seated herself at an empty table in the middle of the room. She preferred to have company while eating, but it looked like she was one of the first patients there, so there was no one to sit with. Maybe if she minded her manners and tried to look her cutest, she'd attract someone handsome! Holding her utensils delicately, she began to cut her waffles into smaller pieces.

[For Battler.]

> ==>

The snow had gotten heavier. Rose walked out into it. It was better than being on fire, but slow going. She let one needlewand slide back into her hand, and pointed it at the ground. Nothing. At the air. Nothing. She wasn't going anywhere her own feet didn't deign to carry her. Her powers were well and truly blasted back to square one. Before square one. She didn't even have a laptop.

At least she could see the shape of the other side of the building. Provided a general lack of space-time paradoxes, the extents were clear. That was a stupid assumption to make, so she didn't.

Instead, she turned back to Lily, who still hadn't answered her questions. This made sense, as it had only been a few seconds, mostly occupied with such trivialities as doors.

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.]

[from here]

Only a couple more rooms and then he was going to eat everything he laid eyes on in the pantry. Even the condiments, at this rate. How much nutritional value did tomato ketchup have anyway? And was he really in any position to turn it down if that was all he could find?

Even with the hunger twisting his stomach and making him feel slightly sick, Wally wasn't quite so bad off that he needed to just rush into the room beyond. His luck had been pretty good so far, well, apart from his speed dumping him into a wall like that, but that didn't mean a thing here.

But the sun room seemed empty, from what he could make out in the darkness and with only a flashlight that had seen better days, so Wally relaxed and headed further into the room, weaving through the chairs and things as he aimed for the cafeteria doors.

[from here]

Wally yelped as his powers propelled him into the next hallway and, as it would turn out, a wall. He hit it with a thump loud enough to rattle his teeth and make his head throb as he slowly pulled himself back up to his feet.

"I'm okay," he announced for the benefit of what turned out to be an empty hall. Which was fine by him because he really didn't need people seeing the Flash running into solid objects like that. It'd raise some questions about why his control was so off and he really didn't want to get into those right now. At least he'd stopped in the next hallway and not the other side of the institute, so that was something. Backtracking would have been even more embarrassing.

"Well, I guess that's just another reason not to do any running just yet," he muttered to himself and headed towards the sun room. Get through that and then he'd hit the cafeteria and, after that, the kitchens and a better chance at finding something to eat.

[to here]

Dinner was just as unappealing as lunch had been. A plain, tasteless gruel that had the same consistency as okayu without any of the flavor. If it were up to him, he would have flavored the broth, maybe topped it with pickled plum or green onions. He would have preferred salted salmon on top, but that was a luxury now. Worse than the taste was the color, an odd pink color that convinced him more and more that this place had to be somewhere in America. Only America could make such strangely colored food. Although...the taste was more like England's cooking, only less burnt.

When the silence started on the intercom, Japan put down his spoon. And when the silence turned into static, he politely covered his ears, waiting for it to end. This new person didn't seem to believe in the chimes he'd just recently grown accustomed to, but Japan wished he would use them. The static grew unbearable and he pressed his palms harder against his ears until - suddenly - the noise vanished. Shaking his head slightly, he looked up at the speaker and frowned to himself as the man on the other side spoke.

What he had to say sounded ominous indeed.

Even more so when he considered that this wasn't some game, but real life or some strange approximation of it. Japan still wasn't sure what to believe when it came to the Institute. Was it a mental hospital? A military prison? Some weird cosplay LARP where the people were real? He was still hoping for the latter, but every moment he spent here took that one remaining ray of sunlight away from him.

With a heavy heart, Japan got up from his desk and eyed the metal box that he'd found in his room. He had an inkling of what it was as it reminded him of military trunks and so, very cautiously, he crept over and pried the top open. What he saw both took his breath away and caused his blood to run cold. He hadn't seen the uniform since he put it away over 50 years ago and now here it was, pristine as the day he'd first put it on; none of the rips, tears, stains and patches anywhere to be seen. Was this a joke? Was he supposed to put this on? He had no other clothes, but this?

Pushing the lid from the box, he reached in and pulled the uniform jacket out. It was just as he remembered... But he couldn't wear this. It was a symbol of his country in its darkest hour. And yet...

Japan pulled the outfit out and looked at it, frowning. Not now. He folded the pieces back up and was about to put them back into the box when he suddenly changed his mind. Pulling the pillowcase from his bed, he stuffed the clothes in there along with his flashlight. Maybe he could use the fabric for something else. Italy would have made flags out of it, but he made flags out of everything. Perhaps he could use it to carry things. Somehow. Whatever the use, it was something familiar from home and it meant this place knew who he was beyond just "Honda Kiku."

Bowing to his roommate, Japan headed out the doors, not entirely certain where he was going for the night.

[For Prussia]

[From here.]

All righty. First one here. Surprise surprise.

Peter took a thin breath and took up a post across from the hall, where he could watch both entrances for the gang. His arms crossed and he leaned against the wall. The whole thing was rather broody-looking, to be honest. Not the kind of chipper attitude you expected from a guy dressed like a cast member of Cirque du Soleil.

He was allowed to have bad moods. They happened. He hadn't started the night in one, but he'd tripped into it easily enough on his own. That sort of thing happened when your life sucked this much, okay. There was no sanctuary from the suckage. He sighed yet again. It'd be easier to perk up once somebody else showed up. Then he could push his mind away from all of this garbage and pound some small talk out of it.

Not to mention that waiting out here alone in the big hallway was twice as creepy as it was moving alone through the little ones. His flashlight swung back and forth. Please don't let anything be creeping on me in the dark. Please please please...

He was so not in the mood for whatever monstrosities were lying in wait for him. And knowing Landel's, they were.

[For the Platonic Family!! Y'all know who you are.]

[From here.]

The route was a well practiced one by now. He'd leave his block and enter the next one down, change in the washrooms, and then stroll on out worry free. No one would know which room Spider-Man slept in. Unless they followed him - which, as far as Peter knew, had not happened yet. He liked to think that even when his spider sense was on the fritz, it liked him enough to at least warn him about that.

You never really knew, though. Peter sighed as he slipped into the lower men's block, looking from left to right with rote caution. Again, nobody here. And again, no tingle in his head. For now, he could take it for granted that that meant there was no danger. If he started getting jumped from behind with no warning, then maybe he'd reconsider that.

Whatever. He had to get hopping. Indy and the rest were waiting on him.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Yep. Still the only one here. He supposed that could be a good thing. That meant there would be less people to notice the teenage boy strolling into the bathroom and the schmuck in tights that came out two minutes later. He was all for less people noticing that.

[To here.]

[ from here ]

Either she was the only unlucky person to experience a freezing shower, or she just hadn't built up the tolerance for it that the more seasoned patients had. Whichever it was, she was the first person into the sun room and while normally she wouldn't mind that, the soldiers were majorly creepy and she was kind of hoping for some kind of buddy system thing to be established to minimize the creep factor.

No such luck, apparently.

With one shifty look around the room at the soldiers positioning themselves strategically and then a glance upstairs to see if the doctors and nurses were lurking -- they weren't, which was possibly even more unsettling than when they were -- she beelined for the bulletin board to scribble a worried note.

Four days since she'd showered meant three since last seeing Elle around. That didn't bode well for anything, especially considering the last time they'd talked it was about just how dangerous Sylar really was to her. If she was dead -- Claire had promised Peter that they'd keep her safe, this was just about the furthest from safe you could get. And it would definitely add up to why she'd been able to safely run into Peter the previous night without slamming straight into Sylar when they were shacked up in the same hallway. Obviously, he'd been busy carving Elle up like a pumpkin with his brain.

So, she stuck the note up on the board and then tried to hover around a couch until she found something to do with herself. The anxiety wasn't going to get her anywhere anytime soon, but hopefully someone would show up with information on where the blonde had been those past couple days (an answer that involved intense actual therapy rather than implant things in your brain therapy would be preferred, but as long as no one was getting mutilated, she couldn't complain) and if not hopefully someone could just distract her from that impending sense of massive failure that was threatening to cause a nuclear meltdown of feelings in her brain.

[ free ]

[ from here ]

It took her a moment when she turned down the men's hallway to skim the area with her flashlight. This was the part where she got confused, the muscle memory not really carrying her the whole way. He'd given her directions once, but that felt like a lifetime ago now that she actually needed to put them into practice without Bella attached to her hip. Being alone made it harder, for some reason. She hoped Bella was having more luck than she was at getting to … wherever.

On her left, the single door of the bathroom that she suspected was the same as the women's facilities, and on her right four hallways. Peter's was … she scrutinized. Second in from the door? It sounded about right. If her room was F34 and it was the closest to the door, 24 should be one row further in. So, she hung a right and headed down the hallway.

Her flashlight beam checked the numbers on the doors as she headed down. 30 … 29 … the numbers were counting downwards, which was a good sign that this was the right hallway to get her to M24.

[ bumping into sylar peter ]