[from here]

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

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

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

[from here]

Javert briefly considered shutting the remnants of the door behind him as he and Threepwood entered, but decided against it; this hall ended in a cul-de-sac, and if they were attacked, they were better off with a clear exit route. As it was, he halted just before the corner, scanning the immediate area with his flashlight, remaining silent for the moment. He doubted Aguilar would be so foolish as to leave the place unguarded.

To the individuals who participated in this morning's insubordination: know that you're in part responsible for what happens tonight.

"I wasn't even here then," Alaric sighed under his breath, feeling under his pillow for the flashlight he'd found during dinner. He was starting to catch on to the game, if that's all this really was - this kind of showed that someone wanted them to go outside. He imagined no one was really going to say no to the mystery, which was the perfect draw. Mystery and a little push out the door.

At least he'd gotten one answer to his questions; what he'd been waiting for was the audible click of the door as soon as another announcement started ringing through the room. A timed system, then? He didn't know anything about prisons outside of riots that had actually led to something (and maybe a little fascination with the Bastille), so it was all guesswork on his part.

Well, at the very least, he didn't have to worry about sticking with Indiana Jones or wondering around in the dark all night until he got eaten by bloated rats or whatever. Having a plan was good. It wasn't exactly solid, but that's how he got things done, whether lesson plans or plans for dinner. Alaric barely needed the push to make the step outside the door frame, flipping the switch of the light on and taking a moment to realize... everything looked goddamn different.

Great.

F30... f for female. His deductive skills were only going to get him so far, considering he had no idea where the female block was. At this rate, he would've preferred a map over a flashlight.

He had a start, though; he'd obviously need to leave the block his room was in first. Alaric had been paying attention to the path his nurse (and later, the guard) had been taking to bring him to and fro from the room (M17 he repeated in his head a few times), so he turned right from outside his door, tentatively beginning his slow walk through the darkness in nothing but slippers.

Slippers which failed him after only seven steps. He caught the tip on something, tripping forward and dropping his flashlight. The light cracked against the tile, sputtering pathetically before clicking off.

Surrounded by complete darkness, Alaric just stared at where he thought the light had landed. Surely God did not hate him this much. There was no way his luck was this bad, and he was thinking that after his wife had dumped him to be a vampire. "You have got to be kidding."

All things considered, last shift had been pretty low key. After this morning's disaster, though, that was perfectly fine by Claude. Some fresh air and a chance to make sure Guy and Okita were all right weren't things to take for granted. It was also good to have a fairly normal, conversation with Guy that didn't slip off into awkward territory. Having Okita there as a sort of buffer probably made things a bit easier in that regard. Claude was confident that things would smooth about between them fairly soon -- if they hadn't already, even.

After checking the bulletin and making some notes of his own, Claude walked alongside his nurse into the cafeteria. As far as he could tell, the soldiers hasn't cleared out any since their arrival this morning. Not only that, but Landel didn't sound too happy about what happened. Was he going to get into trouble for the food fight?

Not that he had any sympathy for the Head Doctor, of course. That bastard deserved every bad thing that ever happened to him, and then some. On the other hand, it did make Claude wonder what would become of the captives if someone even harsher stepped in to take his place...

Was that even possible? Then again, Claude had to consider that no one even used tear gas the last time a riot happened. Had this morning's response been someone else's idea?

As hard as it was to sit and wait for things to pan out, Claude knew that ultimately time would tell what was going to happen. Thankfully, he had a lunch appointment to keep him occupied. After collecting his tray of food, Claude took a seat at one of the tables. It looked like he was one of the first people here, which gave him an opportunity to notice just how much better the room looked than after breakfast. He couldn't imagine how many people had been asked to clean things up. Really, it was a wonder they hadn't just made the patients do it themselves as punishment.

Well, regardless of all that, he needed to wait for that Mordio person to show up now, right? Claude kept an eye on the cafeteria entrance, although he suddenly remembered that the patient had never given a description of themselves. Hopefully Claude's own description would be distinct enough for Mordio to find him.

[For Rita!]

[from here]

It was a race. A fight against patience and a Song's call. Still, the sedation's dredges churned through him. Two close at hand had a potent effect--much like the night that they were left in that town, and the morning after. Rubedo had came then. Came for them like something out of place, and wasn't that so ironic afterwards--when Albedo knew what he knew now? How many times would a twin appear to abandon him to harshly? How many times would Rubedo make promises only to break them--tear them to pieces like he did Albedo--in the perfectly precise way of those who knew how to break you down because they knew you so perfectly.

Was that how Rubedo had killed him? Or had Albedo forced him to it? His twin wouldn't say before, and asking now was too much like dead blood rotting in veins--he no longer cared, no longer needed to know how easily it was for his twin to rip him asunder. How joyous Rubedo must have been. If that night was any hint, his twin hated him with a passion to rival man's hatred toward god. And wasn't it the same. This. In ways it was the same. An existence meted out, for what it's worth, and then you were simply trapped in it. Trapped in it and stuck stagnant where you were, bound by that other, unless you forced your hatred forward to strike down the other.

To kill god? It seemed too quaint to entertain.

Be it that he woke as the last shift was ending, Albedo had been escorted to the cafeteria early. He took what was offered without a word, sat in the back without a sound, and sipped at the water put in front of him politely; a hand curled around the cup lightly, fingers loose. Eyes burned into the entrance--for Nigredo or Rubedo, either would suffice. The doubt that his twin would come to him was faulty--to ignore them for a week and then vanish as if they were nothing spoke of only distain, whatever Nigredo chose to believe. The eldest of them hated them both. This was truth. The only truth that Rubedo had shown Albedo, in thought, word, action, and deed, in the two weeks that they had shared here.

So Rubedo was to kill him. Well. Never say Albedo accepted his destiny. Yes, he would die by his twin's hand. But first he would rip Rubedo's throat out, claw out his eyes and press them into his beloved's mouth--see the lies you spew--lift his tenderly beating heart for all to see and then crush it.

This, Rubedo, is what you've done to me.

[...for the twin.]

How one's body could maintain a waking schedule when sleep came unnaturally and in a room without windows, must surely be a mystery. Yet, as if working on cue, Natalia stirred well before her nurse arrived. That was normal. Less so, the weight that sought to press her eyelids closed again, the heaviness of her limbs that made lifting her hands to her face an effort. She put her wrist to her forehead with a frown, then attempted a jolt of energy – to swiftly dig her hands into the mattress and shove herself into a seated position, and from there, to her feet.

Not to overexert herself once again, but to refuse that it could be possible after sleeping. Happily, though all still felt leaden, her head did not swim. Encouraged, Natalia put on her slippers, rearranged the bedding, and waited. There came the announcement (reminding her, suddenly, of what she had last heard, and the guilt that had twisted in her gut, Jill--), and her face wrinkled with disgust at the hacking sound. Therapy and breakfast. Food would surely help.

Natalia did not wait long before her nurse opened the door, and after exchanging cursory “Good Morning”s (with rather more enthusiasm on the other woman's part), they began the walk to the Cafeteria. With, of course, the essential rest room stop, where water was splashed and scrubbed over her face, and her hair toyed with to no great satisfaction. At least the shower had renewed its body.

Separating in the Cafeteria, Natalia took her place in line and loaded her plate: eggs, fruit salad, fried “tater tots” (potatoes?), and curious meat wrapped in cooked dough. Some of everything, with juice and water. She thanked her servers, collected utensils and napkins, and found a seat at an empty table. It was early yet.

Sparing a brief look around to be sure no one she recognized had arrived – though she remained eager to greet every patient, at the moment she chose to focus on the possible strength gained from the meal – Natalia began to cut up the items and eat with a refined gusto. Entirely possible!

[Claude!]

Shinji was worried. He'd been waiting for a while - Kaworu still hadn't arrived. He didn't know why and as always his insecurities had begun to flare up. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe he didn't really want to see Shinji. Maybe he'd simply been hallucinating the whole thing. Shinji glanced down the darkened hallway, flashlight dangling from his hand. He didn't paticularly want to go out - what if he and Kaworu missed each other? On the other hand, what if something had happened to Kaworu?

He could not fathom the idea that Kaworu would simply turn away from him, despite his own insecurities. He'd been too focused on Shinji, too intent, too sincere for even Shinji's doubts to chase away. Shinji gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, internal debate raging. Should he go looking for him? Should he stay? Reluctantly and with a huge effort of will, he tugged away from the wall next to his door and clicked on his flashlight. He had to find Kaworu. He couldn't just spend the night wondering and worrying. If something had happened to him and Shinji did nothing, he'd never forgive himself. Not after Toji. Not after everything.

He set off into the darkness, still hoping that Kaworu would turn the corner at any minute.

_{[To here.]}

Heat was able to ignore the still faintly throbbing spot on his head as he was led back into the cafeteria for another meal he had no intention of eating. He kept himself from rubbing at what he knew would be a small bump because dammit it didn't hurt that much. It was embarrassing, was what it was.

At the fishy odor filling the room when he entered, the demon wrinkled his nose. How that was supposed to be the slightest bit appealing he had no idea. Then again, it wasn't always the taste that mattered. Whatever this cod was, it could very well taste better than the rotting flesh he'd gotten down the night before.

His nurse made some comment about his lack of appetite, but he wasn't paying attention. She could eat his damn lunch if she was worried about it going to waste. It wasn't his fault they didn't inform their staff properly of their patients' eating habits. The room was fairly empty too, so Heat wasn't picky with where he sat. He just hoped one of his tribemates found him before he was stuck with some other pest for the duration of the meal.

[Sasuke?]

[from here]
Oh, so this was the hall he needed to be in. At least, he was pretty sure it was the right place. If he remembered right, the man on the bulletin board talking about Search and Rescue, his name was Phillip Hunt. If there were only two people in a room, though, it shouldn't be too hard finding him.

Allen shone the flashlight up on the wall, following the numbers. M14, where was M14...

[moving down to here]

There was something fishy going on in the Institute today. All over the bulletin board, people were talking about having "woken up", having been "cured"... and it seemed as though ZEX was one of them. Tanaka wouldn't have recognized the note at all if it hadn't been signed - his wording, his handwriting, even his name had changed - and a part of him still wondered if it had been an imposter, trying to pull the wool over the Captain's allies.

But it'd be easy enough to find out the truth. Whoever it was had agreed to meet him, and Tanaka was waiting for him just outside the cafeteria doors, ready to catch him as he came from breakfast. If "Max" was an imposter, then he'd discover the identity of a hidden enemy. And if he was really ZEX...

...well, he'd have a whole new set of things to worry about.

[for a spoiled rich brat brainwashed Admiral]

Even before he got sick, Sean had enjoyed reading. His teachers had always said that he read 'ahead of his age group', but he figured that was just because he read more than most kids his age did. He liked everything: fantasy, science fiction, biographies, journal articles... There was just something satisfying about holding a book--something someone poured a lot of effort into producing--to Sean.

Today, though, he didn't want to get into anything particularly heavy or involved. No psychology textbooks for him today--he was going to read something fictional. Pulling what looked like an interesting science fiction novel off the shelves, he cracked it open and began to read happily. Oliver would find him soon enough and no doubt interrupt him, so he'd just read as much as he could for now.

[For Badou]

Yuffie had died.

No, really. Seriously. She had actually died. Bleeding all over the place, making a horrid, sticky mess and scaring the hell out of Suzaku; she remembered it clearly. Kind of. Sort of. Through the blood loss, the pain, and the visions. Through Aerith's voice whispering in her ear, Cloud's stricken eyes, and her own panic. As bad nights went, it had been Bad, capital B and all the trimmings, and oh, god. She sat, trembling on the edge of her bed, eyes closed and hands pressed hard over her racing heart. The by-play between Landel—Landel!—and Lydia barely even sunk in. There was nothing in the whole world, any world, that could prepare you for something like…

Had it all been some kind of hallucination?

Had she imagined the whole thing?

No… She didn't think so. Nightmarish or not, Yuffie knew reality. But if it had been real, how was she alive now? That kind of pain wasn't something you could just cook up, was it? She thought about it all the way to the cafeteria, drifting behind her nurse without focus or intent. Maybe if she tried to stay clinical, tried to step back… But she'd never been good at that when things got personal. And every time she closed her eyes or blinked, she swore that the scenes played back to her, like an overused commercial on a crappy channel on a crappy TV, in a run-down dump of an inn that smelled like mothballs and yesterday's breakfast.

The scent of blood and damp, rotted wood clogged her nose. Disgusted, Yuffie shoved her bowl of cereal—handed to her by a clucking Plucky—off to the side so that she could melt into her chair, palm heels scrubbing against her eyes. Too much. This was… Too much. She couldn't even paste a plastic smile on her face to make herself feel better. Her usual shield, the white noise of inane babble that could filter out almost any crisis, was in tatters all around her. Five minutes, she gave herself.

Five minutes (not) to think, five minutes to get her act together, because there was no way she could let herself shatter here. No way…

[Closed to Sheena]

Hello! I.R.I.S. here once more to announce to you, our honored guests, that you have officially made it through a day of our typical Landel's treatment. Of course, it isn't quite over: we will now have you retire to our designated patient quarters with one of your agency partners to inspect their sleeping area and the tools that we provide them with for the true bulk of our behavioral testing. On an added note, we would like you to notice once again that the meals we provide to our subjects are of the highest quality.

For those of you feeling apprehensive about taking part in our more intensive methods, please be aware that we would never imagine putting all of you in any danger whatsoever. This last shift will be your last at our Institute; afterward, we will escort you to our Head Doctor's personal observation station to survey some of our test Next-Wave participants in the rigorous trials we put them through – all for their betterment, of course.

Once again, we hope that you are satisfied with what you find, and as always, direct any questions you may have to your console.

The nurses began to escort the patients to their rooms. They didn't even seem to be brought to awareness by words such as "testing" and "subjects."

[ 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. ]

The late-afternoon sun filled the large, open Sun Room. It was almost enough to make you sleepy, Euphemia thought, as she walked in, brushing a little glitter off her shirt. She didn't particularly feel like she was up to much - the worrying about everyone had drained her, as much as she'd tried not to think too much about it.

With that thought in the back of her mind, she walked over towards the bulletin board. It looked like it was cleared off at the end of the day, because now it was filled with information. She made a note of the 'primer' post, then began copying the maps onto some paper she'd taken with her from the Arts and Crafts Room.

One more thing struck her, though - the idea of visitors. Was this what all the announcements about graduates were? She thought of the others then, and frowned, hoping that neither of them were going through anything like that today.

[reserved for the tallmore.]

And just like that, the disorienting feeling of blacking out just to wake up in an unfamiliar bed came again. Alkaid had wondered if it would - everything about last night had been different, all the way from the zombies to the eerie emptiness of the Institute to the strange broadcast at the end of the night. Had the Head Doctor been shot? Damn, someone had gotten to it before her. And who was the voice at the end there? It was like she'd been allowed access to some kind of strange mystery that she could not understand, one that had been going on for a long time before she had arrived and would be going on for quite a while in the future, after she was gone. Had these strange sets of circumstances been bugs in this place's programming? Who could say?

The morning's intercom greeting was strange, as well. Federal training whatsit? It didn't seem like this happened very often, from the sound of it, but so much had happened since the last day she remembered that the former Demon Palace Emperor was ready to take pretty much anything at face value.

The room she woke up in was still empty. Wondering where to stick the half-cracked bat that she'd picked up last night, she shoved it under the mattress hastily when she heard footsteps in the hall.

The stupid nurse was the same as ever, though. Some things never changed. "Ahh, good morning, Eileen. It's so nice to see you awake."

Alkaid rolled her eyes at the nurse's chuckle, and shook her head. She didn't care that the NPC thought it was nice, she just wanted to see the rest of the institute already.. see what had changed! "Yeah, it's fantastic. Whatever! Just take me where I'm going and be done with it!"

It was just then that she realized that she was not wanting to devour the flesh of the nurse in front of her. And that the pain on her arm had kind of abated - she couldn't see through the thick bandages they had covered her arm with, but she wondered if her skin was still rotting off like a zombie. Had they somehow cured her infection overnight? Or was the nurse not human, like Alkaid had always thought?

There was only one thing for it: she had to go somewhere else.

"Chapel, sun room, or cafeteria, then?"

"Does it look like I care?"

The nurse sighed, then started walking Alkaid down the hall, up the stairs, and down another hall to the chapel. No one here yet, huh? That was weird. She couldn't imagine that no one else'd show up, but who could say? This place had been turned on its ass.

The chapel was empty so far, and kind of nondescript. She shooed the nurse away, and stood in the middle of the space between the pews, standing akimbo. What would happen today? What would she learn about herself... her situation? How long had she been sleeping? Was she really still going freaking undead, or had that been somehow taken care of?

All this would come to light really soon. She hoped. Geez, too many mysteries!!

[unwittingly awaiting Haseo]

[from here]

The streets hardly seemed to be a better alternative to the pet shop. In fact, it seemed like there were more zombies on the street than where they were originally. Sakura glanced around the town in a frenzy. Zombies were everywhere! Where were they supposed to find somewhere safe?

She picked up a rock and pitched it at a zombie approaching them from behind. "Fai-san, where do we go?" she asked, looking up at him once more.

At first, the idea of being stuck in this meatbag dwelling sector at night seemed like a wonderful idea. So many targets, such an open field, and so many things that could be repurposed for use as weapons!

...Then he saw all the zombies. After the talk of those 'space barnacles' last night, it was fairly easy to identify them as such. But the only thing was, those things were supposed to only affect droids.

Now there were meatbag zombies. All over the place. And he didn't have a flamethrower. Oh no no no nononono.

In short, HK freaked out.

Yuffie took the long way around, practically making it a tour of the entire town. She collared--not literally, since the nurses would've thrown fits--a few random citizens along the way, asked as many inconspicuous sounding questions as possible, and then moved on. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sneaking a few covert glimpses into stores and windows confirmed what she'd been talking about with Sam earlier; no dates, no explicitly mentioned locations outside of the town itself… how weird was that? Even the most insular of towns back on Gaia would've coughed up some kind of connection with the outside world.

It was almost like a living ghost town.

Well, maybe she was just thinking too hard. Maybe she was throwing shuriken too hard at the wrong target. Back home, she had a concrete frame of reference. Here, she couldn't take anything for granted; she had no local or international knowledge whatsoever. All she could try to do was get a profile of the immediate area and build it up and out from there. Theories were already budding, popping up like weeds hit by Quadra-Haste, but without facts to back them up, theories were like sand in a desert.

Not that she didn't want to share those theories, sand or not. She did. A lot.

Once she'd developed a viable mental map of the place (as viable as she was gonna get given the time constraints), Yuffie swung back around and jogged back to North Street. From there, she took the alley; a quick right turn; slow to a trot, and there. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold winter air, and they stung as she poked her head in through the door.

Okay, so maybe she was a little early after all. That was cool. Very cool. She had some time to set things up, to pretend that she wasn't hideously under prepared for this lunch date. Stepping into the warmth, Yuffie surreptitiously cased the place out as she headed to a table. Homey, in a way that almost reminded her of some of the up-and-coming rural towns. Automatically seeking out one of the more strategic seats--one with a good view of the rest of the restaurant, and one that didn't leave her totally vulnerable to mutant chairs or murderous sandwiches--she made herself comfortable, whipped out a few crumpled pieces of paper and a pen, and began to jot down her findings.

[Closed to Edgeworth.]

One second he was in the hallway, dizzy and sickened and barely able to focus as Youko picked him up (and he'd thought for a moment to warn her to be careful before remembering his shirei couldn't hurt her anyway, even agitated as they were) and then the next...in bed. Back in the sterile hospital room, with only the sharp scents of cleaners and laundry soap from the sheets, but nausea and a lingering pain behind his eyes still reminded him of the close call the night before.

Before he had time to think about it for long, though, the door opened and the nurse arrived with a bundle of unfamiliar clothing; she fussed over him briefly, trying to feel his forehead (from which he automatically grimaced and ducked away) and cooing over him like he was an invalid child. Of course he was a little feverish; it would only have been worse if the blood had touched him as it came so close to doing.

But the woman only bundled him into the clothing she'd brought without paying any attention to his protests, and he was hard-pressed to decide whether or not the shirt she gave him was any better than the bright yellow smiling face. And then he was led out to the front yard, through what he noted didn't look anything like the "holy ground" of the night before, and given a brown paper bag before being herded onto a bus with admonitions to "take it easy" ringing in his ears.

He dropped into the first empty seat he found, leaving the bag sitting next to him unopened as he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Food was most definitely not interesting at the moment, and he had things to think about anyway.

[waiting for Youko]