Loki wasn't entirely thrilled about returning to the recreation field, though he supposed it would be nicer during the day. And without the annoying presence of Riku. Some fresh air would likely do him good; that was what Sif and Thor had always claimed right before they dragged him out of the library.

He wasn't entirely certain if that was a pleasant thought or not. It was still far too mixed up and painful.

He was allowed to go back to his room and pull out every bit of warm clothing he had, bundling up as much as he could. As he followed the nurse out into the field, he also wondered if this meant he would miss out on the greenhouse, since he'd arranged to meet Soma after lunch. That had priority, of course, but he did find plants interesting. At least it was good to know there were activities they were forced to participate in during the day that weren't as horrifically painful as, say, what the music room would indicate.

Good to know that as prisons went, it wasn't all just torture, torture, torture. Some variation was good for the mind.

He wandered along the crunchy, dead grass, for now steering clear of the few other patients. The air felt much better during the day, smelled much better to him as well as he sniffed at it. even if it was cold enough to make his nose hurt. It reminded him uncomfortably of Jotunheim, and...

But at least here, there was sunlight. He wasn't trapped in that dark place as sometimes was in his nightmares.

Loki stopped about halfway down the field, tilting his head back to take in the thin sunlight, his eyes slipping shut.

[Here, angel angel angel... :D Castiel!]

Needless to say, her night was a bust.

It wasn't that Ramona was trying to turn it into an absolutely safe evening in which she got nothing done. A part of her wanted to test the limits of her abilities and see what she could actually do in this place, but outside of the absolute confirmation that subspace was no longer a go, she couldn't bring herself to go much farther. Scott's words hung over her heavily. The fact that he had made it clear that he was going to continue being as affectionate as possible wanted to remove any chance of her dealing with anyone. So, though she hit another hall, she turned back around and headed back to her room. Ramona was the type of person who sometimes preferred sulking with company, but that wasn't on the plate for the night. (And she didn't want to call it sulking, either.)

She wasn't certain when she fell asleep, but when she woke up, she was sure the people in charge here had some kind of fast-forward button that they could hit whenever they got bored. That was definitely not the entire night, nor had it been the night before. Sometimes night just ended. Of course, Ramona could appreciate the need for a scene change. This place was already running on enough lame clichés to last it a lifetime. Sometimes they need to return to the daytime status quo to hit reset.

That all said, she was getting the feeling that her own waking up process was a little boring. Ramona was glad that her hair was short now because it made her feel a lot less neurotic about the lack of allowed primping. She cast a glance in the direction of her roommate's bed before she plodded out after her nurse. The woman was kind looking, which, of course, meant that she was evil. Then again, anyone could be evil. Ramona just wanted everyone to be evil right now.

(Maybe she was still sulking.)

"We've noticed that you haven't been socializing as much, Sandra," the woman said while grabbing her attention, and it was as if Ramona finally clued in that a conversation was supposed to be happening. Great, she was fitting the bill for crazy on top of incredibly irritated already. The nurse was definitely evil. And maybe a bitch, with the way her fingers freed her shoulder and she stepped back, snorted softly, and gave a shake of her head. "It's always when you're new that it's hard," the nurse added. "And we can tell you're rebellious."

"Wow, it's been a while since someone thought I was a punk rocker. Don't worry. I can socialize," Ramona assured her as she hit the cafeteria. But it looked like she was one of the first arrivals.

Ramona decided she'd get the woman off her back by grabbing a tray of food and not sitting too far from it. At least people might stumble upon talking to her if she looked available enough.

(And hopefully, that someone wouldn't be Scott. Even though she highly doubted his ability to get out of bed, he seemed to acclimate to this place enough to make an appearance with his face and his smiles and his stupid "I love you"s.)

[for America]

[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]

"The morgue is at the end of this hall." It had seemed longer, in the confusion and the darkness of her first night here. The big fire doors halfway down it being open had helped as well. "Through those doors, and all the way down on the left."

It was paranoia talking; they weren't that far from the morgue, and Lana had no reason to suspect they wouldn't make it down there in one piece, except that nothing here could be taken for granted.

Everywhere, really. She'd taken too many things for granted, and then assumed too easily that, once taken away, none of them would ever be in her grasp again.

What was she going to do if Gant was alive? She certainly wasn't going to kill him again, though she wasn't entirely certain Detective Badd wouldn't. It would, by some interpretations, be quite legal, since Gant had been tried and sentenced. Just an unorthodox means of enforcement.

[from here]

The upper hallway was empty, at least at this end, though Lana could hear something skittering around. She checked her pocket -- ran her fingertips along the grip of the gun in the breast pocket of her jacket, but she didn't take it out. It hadn't done them much good last night, had it?

"And I didn't mean Gant, actually." Had she? Not primarily, at least, which made that not quite the truth, but only fractionally a lie. By some people's standards, that wasn't a lie at all. Her were as absolute as they had to be behind the Prosecutor's bench. Mmm. Did that make it entirely true, or entirely false? She'd meant herself when she'd said it, behind Faraday and Badd, but the subconscious was a slippery beast. So easily convinced.

So easily deceived. "Some of us are trying to learn from our mistakes, but that doesn't mean we won't make them again. I hope Ema will forgive me for what I said to keep her from coming along tonight."

Kibitoshin wasn’t sure what alarmed him the most; the wailing sirens and the juddering blare of the computer voice or the aching gap their sudden absence left behind.

He sat in his room, heart pounding, feeling as though the floor were writhing under his boots. Writhing, and shifting, too. What was happening here? What had already happened? He could still feel the commotion zinging through his skin, could still see the uncomfortable pink glow—pink, now there was bad colour for now, it was far too close to red to make him feel safe. Other than that, though, the world around him seemed unchanged. Same room, same box, same boots stood neatly beside them.

But it was different. He could just tell, the way you felt someone’s eyes staring into your back in the pitch black, or that you’d reached the top step on a flight of stairs. Something inside him so very and so perfectly natural could sense a subtle shift.

Unsteadily- he didn’t know why he was unsteady, but as he rose his head spun a little- he moved for his box to get changed. At least he could spare himself the embarrassment of changing in front of Ritsu now that he knew they were both male. Goodness only knew he felt uneasy enough as it was, and right now he needed the comfort of his old uniform more than ever if he was really going to go out there and help Peter still.

Which he was. Definitely.

“H-hey, I need to go. I’m going to be around to heal people, so- so if you need help, I might be able to find you,” he told his roommate, hopping slightly as he pulled on his left boot. “Be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this.”

With that he tied his sash about his waist, stepped out of his room- and suddenly understood.

[to here]

Billy surfaced into wakefulness. Sleep receded like an inky tide, and it didn't say anything to him before it was gone. His dreams had been nothing but the sensation of water, rocking him restlessly in his bottle. There seemed to be an ocean beyond his confines, but he couldn't see it and couldn't reach it. He pawed at the glass, but any progress he'd made had been washed out of his memory.

He tried not to be disturbed by the deja vu, but it wasn't the sort of thing one was in full control of. And yet, his heart didn't race. His nose didn't bleed. His hands were shaking, but with a different tenor than the last time he had concentrated on them. Everything felt still, and whole, and maybe not right, but for the first time in weeks Billy breathed without trouble. There was no weight of a terrified, dying universe crawling over his shoulders and clamoring for attention. He laid there in bed for a long time. Victory. Not his victory, but someone else's, and that was good enough. He hadn't needed to be the one who saved it, he was just doing what he had to. Truthfully, he was glad to have not seen it. There was a lot Billy wished he hadn't seen.

He couldn't bring himself to react much to the fact that he was still here. Billy glanced around a couple times, vision blurred without his glasses, but saw that the room was basically the same. This time lit up, of course, although it didn't help him to gather many precise details. He would have almost said his aimless adventure with Captain Kirk during the night had been a dream, but it was all wrong, thematically speaking. Maybe if Kirk had been a squid dressed in gold lamé, he'd believe it. It really didn't matter what his dreams meant anymore, though.

( Kraken spoiler cut for those who mentioned wanting to read it. )

Any further thoughts were interrupted by a soldier he hadn't noticed entering.

"Get dressed."

Billy stared at the military blues from the night before. Clean and fresh, no sign of any blood, not that he'd been the one injured. There was even a little hat that he had missed the night before. He was going to look ridiculous, he could feel it.

"I think you'll probably find I'm not actually registered here," he tried to tell the guard, who was not impressed by Billy's claim. The soldier wasn't even moved by Billy pointing out that the dog tags didn't have his name on them. (Frederick Aldrich? An eerie coincidence that made Billy quietly comply with demands for a few minutes.) The man spoke in nothing but orders, which were easy to follow when you weren't particularly attached to any final aim. Billy was listless. Flotsam and jetsam. Getting back to London was an eventual goal, but he'd put in a call to someone later, and go back to whatever. His life, he supposed. He was already exasperated by the taciturn and far too serious military man. Once upon a time he would have wanted to gain purchase with him through inoffensive smiles and falsely friendly comments. Today, he could only give the man a tired look and equally brusque answers that didn't hide his irritation. Did he really look young enough to be pressed into a military academy?

He was led down cleaner versions of the hallways he had seen the night before, and into a large cafeteria, basically devoid of anyone beside himself and the assembled guards. Billy uncomfortably found a seat, and took a few seconds to just hide his face in his hands and block everything else out. The tray he had been given was immediately forgotten, just to the side of him, and he blamed his turning stomach on the adrenaline that was still working its way out of his system. It was so fantastically quiet in the large room, he wanted to drown in it. He only peered through his fingers when someone else in powder blue passed close to his table.

[For Castiel.]

Firo was glad to see the end of lunch, if only for the fact that in a few more hours, the day would be over. Night was the only time he had any real freedom of movement, and it was the only time he could do something worth doing, instead of just sitting around.

The usual soldier came to fetch him shortly after the announcement, with only a curt, "Come along, Saviano." Firo frowned, but followed him out of the cafeteria into the Sun Room.

He would have been fine with stopping there, but the soldier apparently had other ideas. When Firo stopped, he went so far as to grab hold of his shoulder and roughly steer him into one of the adjoining rooms, ignoring his protests all the while. The new room was full of round tables with various items like colored paper and paint in the middle, and Firo had a sinking feeling about it. What had the activity mentioned in the announcement been? Arts and crafts?

"What am I supposed to do in here?" he spat at the guard.

"Draw a flower. Make a bracelet. I don't care," was the gruff response before the soldier disappeared out the door.

Firo had half a mind to follow him out, but no—he'd wait a few minutes first, just in case he got shoved back into the pointless room. In the meantime, he took a seat at one of the tables, turning his chair towards the door and leaning his head against one arm propped up on the table.

[For Battler]

By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.

The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.

He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.

Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.

A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.

However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.

[To here.]

As soon as brunch was through, Kratos knew exactly where he wanted to go. For the past two nights, he had not done anything beyond brisk walking. In order to be at his best later on, and to decrease the risk of re-injury, he needed to do some serious stretching, or at least some activity that actually required physical exertion.

...actually, he was simply getting restless - going two days without a fight or at least running was something of a heresy - but he would never admit that sort of juvenile behavior to himself.

He half-expected to be stopped once he'd exited the cafeteria and directed toward one of the waiting rooms, but like last week, no such luck - or rather, "luck". The last thing he needed was a distraction in the form of a false family or friend; he was still struggling with the repercussions of a visit that had taken place over two weeks ago, which was unacceptable in its own right. Thus undeterred, Kratos continued on to the recreational field, stopping by his room briefly to change into more appropriate clothing for the weather.

The field was completely empty upon his arrival, which was to his preference; he stood by loosely for a few moments to see if the nurse would leave. When he didn't, Kratos shrugged lightly, and started stretching, going through all the ones he could remember before he broke into a jog around the field. It was slightly difficult going since the coat went all the way down to his knees, but just being able to do something familiar was good enough for him.

[for Rita]

[from here]

The sun room was quiet, with the artificial hush that came from snow blanketing the big windows. The halls upstairs weren't; while it wasn't quite a fight that had broken out up there, it was heading that way. Possibly irrevocably, as what the boy up there had just called the brainwash brigade didn't do negotiation. At all. Even if they liked to chat their victims up first, which sounded like what was going on. Taura slipped to the perimeter of the room right under them, and out of view.

Ringside seat to the discussion, but unless Rita slipped and made noise, the crew above was too busy with their own preliminaries to start a second front.

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

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

A pause.

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

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Kibitoshin had never had a ‘haunt’ to know exactly what one was, but if he had to make a guess he would have supposed that the Bookworm was turning into one for him on their Doyleton trips. This was his third trip now, and yet again he’d returned to browse the shelves for books to browse through. He’d worked his way through a good portion of the romance section, skipping the less interesting-looking options and flipping through the rest out of curiosity; was that really how relationships were supposed to work? The books were in the fiction section, yes, but it wasn’t as though he had anything to compare them to on the scale of realism versus fantasy, what with the whole only-ever-living-with-four-other-people thing. And even then, they were—they had been (flinch) his siblings. It was hardly the same.

So, this time, the Kaioshin steered himself away from that particular area and towards the rest of the store. Maybe if he looked at a different genre he’d end up a little more savvy and be able to work it out for himself; as much as he wanted to know, he was also very aware of the fact that asking the nearest assistant whether or not romance novels were realistic came with the high risk of having said assistant laugh in his face. Or just make him look very, very odd indeed.

Where to look, then, if not there?

Pacing thoughtfully between the dark walls of books, he found himself drawn towards a section helpfully headed as “Self Help Books”. Did… that mean they’d be able to explain things to him, so that he could “help” him”self”? Because if that was the case, he had a lot of other questions that needed answering on top of that about Earth life in general. It was maybe too much to expect there to be information on other planets, but surely there would be something he could use in there.

With that settled, he ran his finger along the spines and pulled out the first promising title he came across: Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, by 'John Gray'. Well, that wasn’t right at all, he’d seen Mars enough times to know that…

[For... um... whatshisname.]

Previously, on Peter Parker's Sucky Life:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh. Are you going incognito?"

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

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

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

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

He had money?

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

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

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

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

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

Snow doubled in number as the day transitioned into the evening hours. Unfortunately, none of the patients were allowed the time to enjoy the weather changes. They were instead greeted by the telltale jingle of the intercom, signaling their cue to return indoors.

Once again, they heard the voice of a familiar female. She sounded unchanged from her previous announcements, her intonation as clear and as flat as ever.

"Attention all subjects and personnel. All subjects are to return to their assigned rooms for their evening meal. Lights Out will commence shortly after."

The woman paused, seemingly for effect.

"All personnel: you are to report to your stations. Thank you."

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

Though five days without bathing was hardly unusual for Rita, she was actually looking forward to showering today. To her, the last shift had been somewhat enjoyable, if only because it allowed her an opportunity to be alone with her thoughts for a bit. Of course, she couldn't be completely alone in the communal showers, but no one was rude enough to disturb her in there, which was good enough for her.

Once the shift was over, she re-applied the bandages on her leg and knee, dressed herself, and made her way to the cafeteria. The pain in her knee seemed to lessen as the day progressed, and her slight limp became less noticeable to herself. Hopefully it wouldn't impede her much come nightfall.

Upon entering the cafeteria, however, Rita found that she had more immediate problems to deal with. What was that slop they were serving?

Deaf to her complaints, a soldier quickly ushered her into the line for the pink gruel. While waiting, Rita became aware of a section in the room where edible food was being served... but apparently only to selected patients. Whose butt did they have to kiss to get that treatment?

After receiving her "meal" (using the word very loosely), Rita found an empty area to sit in. There, she made no move for her utensils, but instead glared at the plate of mush as if the food itself had somehow wronged her.

[For Woody]

(from here. nnn so close.)

Closer. She was getting closer. Almost there, almost at her destination. ... And then she would have to do it all over again. Get from one point to the other, without hopefully being hit or ... well, if she was being honest, she would really appreciate it if she wasn't noticed, but hey, she couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. For once, she thanked the fact that she was small. That way, if anything caught her, she could at least make a break for it. Maybe she would be hard to catch.

And, honestly, she was going good at running! Go, Bella, go.

Was it bad she was feeling at least proud of that? She hoped not. Because honestly, it made her feel confident that everything was going to be okay.

(to here finally wheee.)

(from here.)

And ... the stairs. Bella couldn't help but peek up at the darkness as she moved slowly up the stairs, saving all of her energy for when she reached the second floor. She didn't want to leap up the stairs and have to catch her breath without even having done anything. That would have sucked.

Do not want to fall up the stairs, she grumbled internally, carefully moving up the stairs. The hand that held onto the bat was pressed slightly against the wall, knuckles cool from the cement, allowing her to at least keep tabs on where the wall was. ... Not that it would randomly disappear, of course, but it was at least comforting to know that if she fell, she could use the wall to steady herself.

"Right. Good plan."

It felt like no time at all, but suddenly she was at the top of the stairs, staring into the darkness of the hallway in front of her. Instantly, Bella became quiet, focusing on her breathing. Count to ten. Five? No, ten was a good number. Gave her enough time to get her thoughts together and focus on just the act of movement. One, two, three, four, five ...

Her grip on the bat tightened. For a moment, Bella wondered if maybe she should turn off her flashlight, but ... well. She weighed in her chances. She could either enter the hallway and be unable to see and bump into god only knew what, or she could keep it on and be instantly sighted by whatever it was lurking ... but she would still be able to see. That sounded like the better option. Six, seven, eight ...

Nine, ten. Seconds later, Bella moved running into the darkness with her heart pounding in her ears.

(hither.)

Having to endure an empty room for yet another night had Sora worried. Were they not planning to give him a new roommate? He didn't know how these soldier people worked -- would they rather that patients were left in their rooms alone? That didn't make much sense, but he really didn't know what to expect anymore.

Most people would have been glad to have a room to themselves, but Sora wasn't most people. He wanted someone there who he could talk things over with while he ate his dinner. Instead, he had eaten his meal in silence, still reeling from the announcement that Landel was being replaced. It was something he would have preferred to discuss with someone else rather than dwell on alone, but he could always do that when he met up with Kairi and Riku.

That was the one good thing he had going for the moment; Sora was glad that the three of them were going to be side-by-side once more. He was particularly interested in hearing what Kairi had to say, since she'd also been here for a long time.

His dinner was interrupted by IRIS coming on, and Sora frowned when the automated voice became distorted once more. A program was being initiated? What did that mean?

He'd expected for IRIS to continue through the whole night, but soon after that a more human voice was heard. But even as Sora tried to place it, he realized that it was new, totally different from Landel's usual loud tone. But there was still a threat in those words, still a hint that something was going to happen tonight. Sora had already counted on that. With everything that had happened, how couldn't there be?

He just hoped that he and his friends could manage to get somewhere even with the odds stacked against them. Sora quickly changed from his Landel's uniform into his more familiar clothes from home and then grabbed for his flashlight (while also remembering to take Venom's copied note at the last moment; he wanted Kairi to see it too).

Once he was ready, he quietly moved out of his room and headed down the hall.

[To here.]