[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.]

McCoy hadn't managed to get any sleep this time, instead spent the rest of the dinner nearly pacing with a nervous energy that seemed to to well up out of nowhere. He could feel it this time, his mind starting to drift on its own, back to those half-remembered thoughts earlier in the day, the ones that had had involved Chekov, Sulu. He couldn't remember the full details, he might as well have attempted to go catching smoke for all the good trying did, but it had something to do with their promotions. Sometimes Jim drifted in there, carrying some scars he didn't remember him having, and for some reason, the thought of him prompted a sense of wariness that shouldn't have been there.

He resisted actually pacing. He'd settled for lying on the bed and trying to get some rest. It was the sensible thing to do, because who knew how many hours they were actually getting of rest here? Humans needed a certain amount. He wasn't any different. And getting a few hour's shut-eye might be just the thing for the way he'd drifted off today and just now.

McCoy found himself instead staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest. There was that strange sensation that his limbs weren't quite long enough, his body temperature too low even though McCoy knew it was perfectly fine for a human. The room felt overly small, growing warmer by the minute...

The doctor was on his feet the moment the intercom sounded, relief flooding through him. He couldn't say he liked the sound of changes when it came to the Head Doctor. But to get out of this room and get his mind on work, instead of allowing it free reign to wander? An idle mind was a devil's workshop, something he'd learned in his youth.

He gathered his things quickly and stepped out into the hallway.

[to here]

"AACHOO! Ahem!" The Head Doctor's slightly-better-but-still-congested voice came on clearly over the intercom. The sound of Nurse Lydia sighing and pulling out a tissue from somewhere in the background was also audible.

"Ah! Yes, thank you..." the Head Doctor muttered before continuing: "Well, it seems like today, like all days, must come to an end, even if it wasn't quite as bright and cheerful as we would like, hmmm? In any case, everyone will now be escorted to their quarters.... mmaahh... AAACHOO! Ah! Erb– yes, to their quarters, where they'll be served some Atlantic wild-caught salmon seasoned with garlic and herbs, along with mashed potatoes and a small garden salad. Our usual vegetarian alternatives and drinks are also available, along with a chocolate mousse dessert.

"And that's all... all ...aaaachoo!"

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. I think Court said something about the new roomies not being completely sorted out yet? :O She'll probably post about that later, so hang tight! ]

With the early morning’s embarrassment out of the way, Depth Charge had decided to devote a chunk of the day to familiarising himself with Doyleton: its ins and outs, the stores, the street names. Anything that could prove useful if he ever managed to escape- that, and having something to keep his mind busy after the incident in the used car place. Not only had he looked stupid, he’d looked careless and stupid, and neither of those were looks he really wanted to go for.

Finally he drew his circuit of the town to a close in a run-down park just off of Kelley Street, and boy did it ever look like slag. There was something oddly refreshing about it after the squeaky-clean stroll he’d taken around Perfectville, and anyway, he could hear the sound of a stream in the distance. Good enough for him.

The paper bag he’d been given on the bus was starting to feel irritatingly heavy to him, so it didn’t take long to pick a bench and sit down to eat. Depth Charge opened it up. Ah-hah. There it was. His old adversary. The orange fruit.

What was it Mori had done? Peeled the top part away? With the care of a ‘bot picking the wires on a ticking bomb, he began to strip the outer layer off of the fruit. So far so good. At this rate he might even be able to eat the slagging thing... 

[What light through yonder window breaks? Tis the East, and Lugnut is the sun!]

Having gotten a sense of the town, Indy stopped to consider who was most likely to a) know something about the history of the area, and b) have the time and inclination to tell him about it. The best answer he could come up with, short of accosting townspeople at random on the street, was whoever was running that bookstore. He headed back down Main Street and found The Bookworm on the right-hand corner across from the park.

Field work might be what he was known for as an academic, but Indy had spent his fair share of time in the stacks, and the musty smell of used books was strangely heartening. He donned his glasses and started looking through the closely-packed shelves, hoping to find a local history section--or any history section, for that matter. He came up unexpectedly short. That's odd, he thought--but then again, the stock looked so thrown-together here that it'd be easy to miss. Time to speak to the person in charge here.

Indy readied his most affable smile and approached the counter.

[free, especially for anyone who wants to try to learn about local history]

The intercom jingled and the Head Doctor sounded pretty exhausted as he began speaking into the microphone.

"Mmmff! Well, hello, everybody, and I hope you enjoyed breakfast and perhaps some made new friends as well! Some other patients will be joining you this coming shift – or at least they'll be joining the adults out in the courtyard while the children get a good wash. It's still a bit chilly, so you might have to wear something extra, but the sky is clear and the breeze is crisp – oh, I do wish I could join all of you, but alas, obligation calls!

"At any rate – nurses, would you please escort the patients to their proper locations and bring out the old patients into the general population? Thank you, and also thanks to you, patients, for your thus far good behavior.

"I believe that's all for now. Ta-ta!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All introduction posts for this shift's group of new characters should be made in response to this post.

Have your character wake up in a random room as we don't have roommates sorted out yet. Putting M??/F?? in the subject line is fine. ]

Normally, Sora would have liked the chance to get outside and bask in the fresh air, but seeing how he had gotten that chance yesterday, he figured he should consider his other options more carefully. It had been some time since he had gotten to take it easy in the Game Room, and since he still wasn't one-hundred percent healed after that monster attack two nights ago, finding a comfortable place to sit sounded good to him.

Of course, the first thing he did upon being led there was dig up one of those Game Boys. Even though he knew that he could have been doing something more productive with his time, he figured he was allowed to relax every now and then. He had to make the best of this situation, after all, and so if there was an opportunity to have some fun, he was going to take it!

Once he found one of the Game Boys, Sora headed for one of the couches, glancing around the empty room with a small sigh as he sat himself down. He hoped that some other people showed up soon! Games were fun, but not if he was just sitting and playing one on his own like this.

[Free! Come and get him.]

[from here]

This room was also reasonably large. It was harder to tell, though, around all the various boxes that filled it. Leon blinked, shining his flashlight around and trying to spot a label or anything that might tell him what was in them. "What do you think they keep in here?" he asked absently, fully intent on finding out for himself.

He neared one of the boxes, finally getting a good look at the label on the top of it. Names. Were these patient names? Was this stuff that supposedly belonged to people?

Would his things be in here?

The mage scrambled over a few, trying to find either his real name or the false one they gave him here. He wanted to open any of the boxes, but if the items belonged to other patients would it really be right for him to do that?

[From here.]

The first thought Kadaj had upon entering was that he should have broken into the other room. This one didn't look very helpful at all; from what he could see, all it seemed to contain were, what, cabinets? How terribly dull.

He wandered over to the nearest one, lightly rapping one knuckle against its surface and letting out a small sigh. Yes, metal, and such a shame it wasn't in a more portable form. There was always what lay inside of them, he supposed, but if this was the file room he thought it was (he really should have taken a longer look at that map), the prospect didn't excite him all that much.

But maybe Leon would feel differently. Opening one of the drawers and confirming that yes, this was the file room, he glanced back at the boy and asked, "Think it's even worth searching this room, or shall we move on to another?" ... Leaving out what the room actually was to try and get out of there sooner, him? Impossible.

[from here]

The Bride paused at the top of the stairs and listened. Quiet. It was quiet. If it hadn't been for the knowledge that there were people up here being tortured, she'd have thought she was the first to make it to the second floor. The Bride headed down the hallway, not even bothering to give the hallway where the torture was done more than a brief glance. Those people and their suffering were none of her concern at the moment.

She turned down the second hallway on the left; another step in this night's line dance.

[from here]

[ In M1. ]

Returning to his room only to find that his roommate was still in a deep sleep (which didn't bode well for him, Roy morbidly thought), the colonel quickly ate his dinner and then took the chance to get some sleep, figuring he had at least a half hour or so until nightshift officially started.

The nap wasn't much, but every minute of sleep that he could get was worth it, considering there wasn't usually any space for it in his schedule. The static was what drew him out of his sleep, and he wasn't surprised when it didn't do the same for Knives. He wasn't sure how the institute knocked patients out so absolutely, unless they came in during the day to drug them.

He considered just getting the arrows made while he waited for Kadaj and Jade, but he realized that Jade might want to see the process again, and possibly ask questions about it.

So, for the moment he stayed where he was on the bed, thinking over what the head doctor had said about the chapel. He wondered if Axel and Roxas might choose to check that out instead, though he wouldn't mind if they followed the radio clues either.

After the couple glasses of water Leon managed to gulp down during breakfast, the mage felt immensely better. He was still a bit tired, but that was nothing a little lounging on one of the sofas wouldn't cure. Stretching his arms above his head, he couldn't help but wish he'd had the chance to grab one of his new doctor's coats before leaving his room that morning. Maybe they would have let him get away with wearing it. Maybe.

He grabbed an empty sofa, pulling out the journal he tried to keep on him at all times. It was nearly complete now. Just a couple more pages to go. It might not improve his spellcasting that much, but any improvement was better than none. It was getting to where it might be too dangerous for him to use spells at all, if it left him so worn out without even finishing a monster off.

Sylar's gears were still turning as the nurse and a burly orderly escorted him down long halls and through a strange, sunlit room. He'd been forced to drop his pen when the orderly had seen it, and since then, he'd realized that this place had better security than he'd originally anticipated, as well as a large population of patients. It looked like he'd have to bide his time for now, pretending to be this 'Zachary Blaine' and trying to figure out how the hell he'd gotten here.

His mind went over and over the events in Mohinder's lab, tracing every second that led up to his unconsciousness. According to the computer logs and the decked-out loft, Mohinder was working for the Company now, so had that woman with the electricity been an operative? Was this all a Company front? Even so, it didn't make sense for them to drop him off somewhere without any close supervision. They knew how dangerous he was. How special he was.

But right now, his abilities had been nullified and he was left only with the option of playing along. It was a very good thing that it was something he excelled at, even with his sudden loss of the cure clouding his thoughts and telling him to do something drastic.

Still, it was fun to take ahold of strings and let someone think they were pulling him when in fact he was the puppetmaster. Who knew? Maybe he could find a new toy now that his last one had worn out.

Sylar took his syrup-covered waffle to a table and tried to keep track of both the security and the people flooding in. Soon, he'd find an opening, a weak link he could exploit. It was only a matter of time.

[from here]

Leon was surprised to find the door to the laundry room open easily when he turned the knob. It was a bit odd, given that most of the other rooms seemed to be locked, but then he supposed there wasn't a whole lot worth locking up in a laundry room. What was there to be stolen? One of the machines? The mental image of a pair of people scooting one down the second floor hallway had him cracking a smile as he walked in.

He could only hope this was the right room. After all, what other rooms fit the description? They didn't have washers and dryers like this on Expel, but he'd seen similar devices on Nede and really, all you needed was the Laundry part of the room description. No matter your level of technology, water and warmth were part of the cleaning cycle.

"See anything?" he asked Kadaj a bit hurriedly, not feeling all too guilty for rushing off without giving the man a choice. It wasn't as though he'd been all too quick to decide on a course of action himself.

[from here]

Leon edged past Kadaj into the newly opened room, shining his flashlight around slowly to take everything in. These were different items than what was kept in the janitor's closet, and he hoped his companion came to appreciate the fact that they'd just found another storage room. Maybe he could pick up some more metal here. He motioned to a stack of sheets with his light. "That might be stronger material for carrying your things in if you can keep it held together."

Moving further in, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that had him panning the light back around to get a better look at. Giving a sudden cry of "Aha!" Leon rushed over to grab what appeared to be a doctor's coat. He began humming merrily to himself as he shed the coat he was wearing, put this new one on, then put the original coat back on over it. (He needed the pockets after all.)

[From here.]

... Hmmm. Maybe this would do after all.

Eyes lighting up like a kid at-- well, lighting up, Kadaj stepped further into the closet and began shifting the things inside it around. He didn't recognize half of it-- what was WD40 supposed to be, anyway?-- but things like metal pipes, step ladders, signs, and so on were much easier to pin down. Convenient.

"See anything you like?" he asked Leon, going after the pipes himself and giving the rest of the items a considering look. If he could take some of it and offer to trade for it on the bulletin, what might that get him? There wasn't much he wanted, unless he counted getting Souba sooner (he didn't know what place in line he was because Roy hadn't told him, the bastard), but having others in his debt would be immensely satisfying.

[Coming from here.]

Daemon slipped out into the large, empty corridor, pausing in the doorway for a long moment to sweep the beam of his flashlight up and down either direction to make sure the path was clear, before motioning for his brother to follow him. Turning to his right, he headed for the next hall, knowing that if their father was heading out anywhere this night, he would have to come through there first.

[Going here.]

[From here.]

[Specifically outside M1]

Nope, no one here either.

Axel sighed loudly. It wasn’t like he wanted to frolic around with two dozen or so people scrambling about, but he didn’t want to become bait for anything that was hiding in the corners either. He didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, but someone was bound to crawl out of their rooms at some point.

It didn’t take long to reach the end of the hall, but he made no move to knock at Roy’s door. It looked like the guy was expecting a few visitors and he was pretty sure that he wasn’t one of them. Nah, all he had to do was wait for the rest of his teammates to arrive, drop off whatever they gathered up and off they’d go.

Leaning his weapon against the wall, Axel followed suit and nestled back against the hard surface.

[From here.]

Axel was pretty surprised to find the main hallway completely empty by the time he stepped through those double doors, shining his flashlight about before shrugging. At least this meant wading through less traffic, or in this case no traffic at all.

“You’d think people would be bustling out after all that racket,” He murmured grudgingly to himself. It was no surprise that the head doctor’s screaming was enough to rattle him awake. Though he did have his map completely memorized he wasn’t exactly sure where Second floor, East Wing, North Hall 2-B was besides the obvious. Maybe it’d do them some good to snoop around, but they had to be fast or else they’d get beaten to the punch.

The Nobody stifled another yawn, stretching his arms back as he nudged himself into the next hallway.

[To here.]

Though perhaps not entirely as successful as he wanted it to be, Homura walked away from lunch feeling satisfied with his efforts. Roland and Fai both had shown interest in the goal, and that was enough for the moment. Homura could be patient, had already been for five hundred years, and felt no harm in waiting another five hundred if he had to. He would have his goals realized, no matter what obstacles he faced, be they from the prison or those trapped within.

But now was time for business of a different sort, and the demi-god made his way to the Sun Room, near the common board. He made sure he could be seen from the entrance to the cafeteria, knowing that one stranger and one member of his own group both wanted to meet with him. It worked out well enough, especially given that the stated purpose of the History Club was simple.

Revenge and escape.

For now, Homura had no intention of revealing that it'd grown more complicated than that.

[Waiting for L and Junior]