It wasn't often that Renji felt less like punching people in general as his day wore on. This was a new experience for him. A not unwelcome one, if he was being honest. And the fact that he felt less like punching Fai? Kind of mind-blowing. The sort of thing Zen masters would probably use as a kouan to reach an all-new level of non-punching enlightenment.

So he was back from the dead, almost everyone he'd known was gone, and yet bizarrely his day felt like it was looking up. Kind of. Renji wasn't sure what to make of this. Maybe his grumpy meter was just nearing empty. That was as good an explanation as the next, considering how this place made him feel.

Whatever the reason, he ended up in the music room. And he remembered oh yeah. He'd always kind of hated this damn shift. He grabbed a little book of music and a drum and retreated quickly to the far end of the room. He put the drum down in front of him just so he looked like he was doing something and opened the book. But he had no idea how to read music, and really, he was more interested in the ongoing puzzle of what the hell had happened in the last four weeks.

And brooding. Of course. There was always brooding to be done.

[Okay Tolten, let me lay it out for you. When there's a mommy and a daddy... or sometimes a daddy and a dadddy. Or, hell, sometimes a mommy and a mommy if you buy the right kind of wood cuts (and a third mommy if you go to just the right shop)... but anyway when they love each other very much, or at least a suitably large amount of money changes hands, there are some things that happen...]

And so it seemed that everything had gone back to normal.

Guy had spent his breakfast filling in a new patient and now Landel was rambling over the intercom like he always did. It made sense that the man would want to act like everything with Aguilar had never happened, though Guy couldn't help but wonder how things would change when night finally came. Knowing Landel, he'd have a long-winded speech prepared for them.

That was something that he could worry about later, though. Guy filed away the information about the doctors, but it didn't matter too much to him. He'd only been forced through that once, and had apparently been deemed a lost cause after that session. Speaking with a doctor here would just be a waste of time as far as he could tell, so that was fine by him.

Being placed in the Sun Room gave him access to the bulletin board, and perusing it gave him some idea of what had gone on last night, at least to the point that he understood that they'd had some sort of outside help. People were being secretive, but that was nothing new. Guy went ahead and put up a note for his friends, wanting to keep it up as a routine (at this point Luke should have been the one doing it, but Guy could talk to him about that later).

With that taken care of, he had little else to do but find himself a place to sit, and before long he located a comfy armchair. He took as seat, but as usual Guy couldn't help but keep an eye out for any friends.

[For Tear!]

[from here]

McCoy tsked but stepped back just in case so Spock could do his thing. Lord, Spock was strong. He took the door down as if he was knocking a fly away and with about as much effort too. Seeing Spock nearly go through the door, taken by surprise by his own strength and without quite the same Vulcan grace, washed away the brief uneasiness. McCoy struggled to hold back the grin then gave up. The grin that erupted was gleeful one.

It was like Spock was back to how he was before. As soon as he saw McCoy on the way to recovery, Spock's understanding and weird empathy, where Jim hadn't quite gotten it, vanished. I suppose he's the mama bird and I'm baby chick getting kicked out of the nest,  McCoy thought with a wince. Spock as a mama bird was not an image he wanted to try again. Maybe Spock wanted to pretend it never happened, like a drunken confession. It was so suddenly gone to the point that McCoy could have imagined it while his brain was deteriorating out from under him. Spock would have you believe that he didn't have it in him. Compassion was for humans, Vulcans were above it.

Bull. Spock had it in him. He'd only shown it back on... McCoy floundered around for the particulars and came up empty.  Another one of the memories burned out. At least he knew Spock had been compassionate when he thought no one was looking. McCoy remembered that much with dead certainty, just not the context. It was good enough when it came to holding it over him forever. McCoy fully intended to keep reminding him of it at every single opportunity. Besides, if the him in their universe wasn't doing it, it was his job to pick up the slack.

McCoy stepped through the door and sniffed at the night air. "You have to work on your bedside manner. I think I liked you better when you were being warm and cuddly."

((From here.))

A quick sweep with his flashlight revealed no other patients or lifeforms in the immediate area, but their arrival could quickly change that if they didn't exert caution. It was unfortunate that his presence would put the doctor in extra danger. However, as a Starfleet officer, McCoy had received enough training to adequately handle unexpected combat situations. That didn't, of course, mean Spock could afford to be careless. He was the ranking officer, and they needed to protect their CMO, who was an indispensable asset to their team.

Obviously, Spock would have to defend them both if they fell under attack. Since that was the case, he believed it would be best to leave at least one of his hands empty.

"Doctor," he quietly said as he glanced at his traveling companion. "I believe it would be best to place you in charge of the light for the time being." Spock extended the device to him.

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]

[from here]

Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.

(What had killed that creature?)

Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.

Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.

[KIRK TO ENTERPRISE]

[From here.]

Peter left the room thinking very deep thoughts. Most of which entailed speculation on the origins of the pink glow he had just been assaulted by. As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn't help but keep coming back to the Matrix. Maybe they just changed something. Turned the halls into mazes.

Buzz.

MREOWWWWWW!

"JESUS!!!!"

Peter's flashlight on loan gave him the half a millisecond to register that there was a fetid demon cat leaping for his face. The pillowcase dropped from his grip and he slapped it from the side.

Splat.

A slight splatter of cat guts speckled his side for his efforts.

Peter stood, gaping, dripping, and shaking all over. There was a cat shaped stain on the wall, and a formless sack of skin and shattered bones inching down to the floor from it. What. Had he done.

Mortified, Peter picked up the pillow case and took two inches away from the dead beast. Then four. Then he was booking it down the hallway and out the door.

[To here.]

[from here]

Just like last night, Vino turned the bend to find that he was first in the main hallway again. He couldn't decide if he preferred it or not. Patience wasn't his favorite virtue, but he supposed he'd have to wait. The two meeting places he would have to be at were right next to each other, right? So that was fine. If he had to wait a while, perhaps he could do some hunting while he was at it.

Vino waited, but tonight, his patience was wearing thinner at a faster rate. He didn't settle on leaning against a wall to wait. He paced, swinging the railing all the while. It was still bloodied from the night before. In his excitement, he'd quite forgotten his intention of stopping by a restroom and cleaning the thing off. Obviously, there were more important things he could be doing. In his mind, there was no time for anything else.

He was impatient. I wanted to be somewhere, he wanted to see everything, he wanted to explore, to experience, to hunt, to destroy--

But all in good time. Tonight was his night. Every night was his night. He owned all this. All of it. It would be fine if he bode his time. He had all the time in the world. He controlled it.

The shadows whispered and scratched. And Vino listened and watched. But stayed where he was for the time being. For the time being.

[Neku]

As the day began drawing to a close, the intercom flickered to life. Instead of Harrington's voice, however, Berg's calm tone filtered through the speakers.

"Attention all personnel: please escort subjects to their quarters for the duration of dinner shift. After that, you are expected to report to your stations -- no exceptions. Anyone caught away from his or her post without direct orders will have to personally answer to the general."

An odd tension hung in the air, but Berg didn't say anything more than that. Once the intercom clicked off, soldiers began to gather up the patients and bring them to their rooms. Most didn't know why Harrington wasn't handling the announcements, or why Berg sounded particularly serious this evening, though no one would admit that to the subjects themselves.

The few who did know had more pressing matters to contend with.

By the time lunch rolled around, things still weren't getting any better. The voices hadn't gone away; instead, Firo was pretty sure they were getting more frequent. Ennis had been silent since last night, but Czes's voice had been an insistent buzz in his ear all morning.

He'd spent the morning alone, trying to ignore any cutting remarks from a boy who wasn't there as he puzzled through things. Were the drugs responsible after all? A note on the bulletin had confirmed that someone else who'd been forced into the trial had been hearing things too, but Hakkai...

The call for lunch had been welcome; the day was barely half over, and Firo was already feeling exhausted. At this rate, maybe it would be best to just wait it out instead of trying to figure out what was causing it. If it was the drug, it should wear off after a while.

He accepted his gruel quietly, looking it over as he headed across the cafeteria—Hakkai had said it looked spoiled, but he couldn't tell any difference from what they'd served morning, noon, and night every day. Maybe the man was still seeing things after all, or maybe he was the one seeing things. It could have been bad and only looked alright. Or maybe it was just the color after all...

As took a seat, a new voice called out to him: "There's no point in you trying to figure it out, Firo. You're a real idiot, you know?"

Firo scowled. "I don't want to hear that from you, Berga," he growled under his breath.

[For Peter Petrelli ;_;]

[M41]

For the first time that Byrne could remember in the four or five days he'd been here, the night began without any sort of dramatic fanfare. No mysterious intercom broadcast, no creepy static, no doctors coming in to drag him away again, no nothing. Just the usual unlocking of the doors and silence.

The staff were trying to find new ways to scare people, huh? Well it wasn't going to work for this patient. Try being scary all you want. Nothing could match last night's torture session, and he was past that now. See if he cared!

...So he thought to himself as he let out a huge sigh of relief. Oh thank god. Never had he been so thankful to know that night was here. Dinner had ended without anyone coming for him, and he could now be free to seek out the one man he trusted more than anyone else. It was a lucky break. What could go wrong now?

Byrne collected himself mentally, then searched his desk drawer out of habit for that damn flashlight that was never there. It appeared for everyone else, didn't it? They were just screwing with him now, he bet. No matter. He'd survive. The Yatagarasu didn't need flashlights! The light of truth and justice could shine in any sort of darkness...

After yet another inner pep talk, he nodded his head at his roommate and then made his way out to the hall.

Hang tight, Badd. I'll be there soon.

[Skipping ahead to here.]

Although it had been good to see his mom again, Claude entered the cafeteria with a dark expression on his face. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to share her experiences from last night, but that didn't make him any less angry at the military for using her to do their dirty work. Why couldn't those bastards clean up their own messes? Surely they had the resources for it.

Were they really going to have to fight someone else's war now?

His head buzzed with those sorts of questions as he moved through the room. Even so, with the help of his escort, Claude assembled a tray with a rather large hamburger, the appropriate condiments, and a cup of water. The cafeteria was still relatively empty, save for the soldiers on duty, so he took very little time in the line. It was probably just as well. He'd been so engrossed in his conversation with Rita during breakfast that he hadn't eaten much.

After finding an empty seat, Claude gingerly placed his tray and journal onto the table and sat down. As he lifted up his burger with his good hand, Claude couldn't help but think of Ashton for a moment. Where was he? He'd disappeared so long ago, and yet part of him worried the military had used him for something too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took a bite and tried to focus on getting a decent meal in his stomach.

[For Guy!]

[From here.]

The room was mainly empty when Michael reached it, which was fine by him. It wasn't that he didn't feel sympathy for the other patients, but he also didn't know if it would be helpful for him to talk to them. The staff seemed to think that forming bonds amongst themselves would lead to recovery, but to him it felt more like they would end up feeding on each other's delusions.

Of course, being reclusive was a problem of his in general. He threw himself into work, into dealing with the scum of the Earth; rape, murder, assault. Someone had to deal with those people and make them pay for their misdeeds, of course, but --

No, he was thinking too much like Castiel. Thinking in a vocabulary that most normal people wouldn't. As he found a couch and fell onto it, Michael winced his eyes shut and realized that the shower hadn't helped as much as he would have liked.

Either way, he couldn't say he was in the mood for talking to anyone.

[For his bro.]

[from here]

For as direct as they were being, Riku understood how much of this section of Landel's remained unexplored. They were so focused on acquiring the drug that it hadn't occurred to them to stop—or, if it had, it was a thought stopped by his frustration with his partner for the night. To think he pushed off some old man because he thought he'd be irritating, but he found something just the same in Albedo. Maybe he hadn't said as much yet, but the feeling he got off him set him on edge. It also made a different side of him come out. It was the side that was smirking now as he looked around, head held high, like this wasn't a problem at all.

That arrogance was more natural in this situation. Riku realized that if he got too caught up in it he wouldn't be able to think clearly, but for now, he was okay. He needed to match abrasiveness with just that. Sora would have done it differently, and so would Kairi, but Riku didn't believe in killing someone with kindness. (Not that kill was in his friends' vocabulary when they were so chipper and easy with their hearts; it was just the way they functioned. He always admired it.)

Upon noticing what could only be the aforementioned concoction, he turned back toward Albedo. His mind had already processed the surroundings. Outside that set up section, everything was the way he imagined it was supposed to seem. If someone was sick, they came here. If they needed help, they called a nurse. In a way, he thought that some of the people he came up against could learn a few tips from Landel when it came to subtlety. Then, maybe, they wouldn't have gone down so hard at the hands of Sora. Though it was better that for whatever their backgrounds were, their own flaws came against them. Riku wondered if that was what happened here, if Landel's own pride and pompous handling of himself led to losing his stronghold.

That question could be asked soon. But first, he asked, "What do you think this'll do?" Not that it wouldn't stop him from taking it. He needed something to give him an edge for his lost time. Truthfully, he was curious about what Albedo had to say. Would he lie and make it look innocent, or would he possibly tell the truth and show ignorance? In Riku's mind, those were the only two options.

[from here]

He glanced idly at the doorways as they passed them, and yet still none read infirmary. "It's only a waste of time," he replied. "If you can't find them. Which would be a bit pathetic in a small building like this."

There was another hallway to the left and Albedo ducked into it, coming up short. Draping his hands behind his head, he walked back to the other, tilting his head. "Especially since I saw Sora about twenty minutes ago. Hopeful with hair at unrealistic angles?" Which would make sense. Sora was sky and didn't Riku speak as shore?

It was annoying, that. It spoke of a beach, and that reminded him too much of a girl.

[from here]

Unsurprisingly, the door opened with a twist of the handle and little pressure. The interior hidden behind a door long since locked--if they were to believe the blow-hard of a commander who had taken control--was quite large, dwarfing the sun room in comparison. Enclaves and doorways crept away from them, and Albedo was idly curious--wondered, if he survived in a more than unsightly way, if he'd see what new toys a medical wing would have to offer him.

For now, however, there were other things, goals that he and this other had in common if it was to be believed. And should Albedo speak to him, play with him? Or should he just go on half-ignoring him and perhaps the other would flee of his own accord. The boy began to move forward across the space, glancing around idly for these things that were supposedly set out. It'd be annoying if it all turned out to be a farce. "So you wake up after getting back from 'somewhere', and your first thought is to try to attempt to poison yourself?" He moved to glance down a hallway on the left, seeing nothing but doors. "Seems a bit strange. Shouldn't you be seeking your comrades or doing something wholesome?"

[from here]

From here, Vino could go several ways. The frequented Sun Room was the most obvious option, though he could also choose to either go into one of the side doors or continue onward down the hall. If he were an architect, Vino thought, where would he put a radio broadcast room in an insane asylum?

Definitely not the Sun Room, that's for sure. From his previous explorations, the doors on his right led to waiting rooms, the kinds one might find in a doctor's clinic. Nothing there except chairs and magazine racks. And Vino wasn't interested in those.

Oh, right. He'd taken those maps from the Sun Room during third shift, hadn't he? Those would be handy in a time like this, right? Vino fished out the crumpled sheet, switching on the flashlight so he could see better.

Not much was labeled except for areas marked as "STAFF ONLY" and other rooms he'd already been in around the Sun Room. Ah, he'd been right about those side doors. Vino doubted that they would have anything he was looking for in the Entry Room.

Meanwhile, farther east on the map, there was a section that caught his attention. Hadn't the message at the start of night announced something about a medical wing on the east side of the Institute? The giant, "STAFF" area certainly looked suspicious enough. Vino had no interest in doing any favors for the people in charge of the Institute, no matter what sort of reward they offered in exchange, but he did know that if they were planning something in that area, they'd have their people positioned there, right? It was worth a shot, at least.

Having decided, he looked the map over once again, committing the surrounding area to memory before switching the light off and stuffing the map back into his pocket.

[to here]

[ from here ]

As Erika approached the meeting spot, she was pleased to see that she was, indeed, first to reach there. This was to be expected: Erika was closest to this particular hallway and she could have given the others a minute's head start and still probably beat them while walking at a leisurely pace. But Erika had hurried to get here and set up camp anyway, directing her flashlight to the ceiling while dropping her bag next to her feet.

Perhaps the detective was so anxious to get there first in an effort to get back at Sync for implying that he more or less found her useless. Yet he followed her around anyway! Hopefully, this would be the last "team exercise" she would be expected to perform in this place so she could finally rid herself of him.

This hallway was as empty as the last one, but Erika knew she was going to see some traffic very soon. There was only one place on her map where a med wing was and it was east, just as Aguilar said. It was definitely a place that she would visit sometime soon so she could collect more of those pins, but not tonight. After all, Erika wasn't so desperate for a pin that she would willingly subject herself to Unknown Drug X. Let the other idiots work out the side effects and she'd be more than happy to step in if the risks were really worth it.

Luckily for Harvey, Lunge didn't have much interest in chatting over dinner. It was possible that he'd picked up on his mood or just realized that he'd needed some time to himself -- and he really had. He'd forced as much of the food down as he could, and after that he'd resorted to pacing the small space that their room offered until he threw himself onto his bed and let the time while away. He needed to get his mind off of Bruce and everything that his visit implied. He couldn't be distracted tonight.

The intercom coming on had been a good way to gear Harvey's thoughts back toward the task at hand. It wasn't often that Aguilar spoke, it seemed, but every time he did it was usually to mock Landel. Harvey couldn't argue with that, but it didn't mean that he liked the man. However, when it officially turned to night and the general's message became more pointed, Harvey found himself feeling a little impressed.

They were people, that was true. Their actions had consequences and apparently they could be rewarded for them as well. Aguilar was giving them a chance to put that into practice, and yet Harvey had other plans. It wasn't something he could back out of now, nor was he ever a fan of drugs. But it was still interesting, to see how the general was treating them with more respect while still rubbing into their faces the fact that they were little more than test subjects.

Heading for the basement seemed to be following Landel's track rather than Aguilar's. Harvey wished that he could find an option that didn't benefit either one, but thus far he'd come up with nothing. Either way, he had no intention of letting Aguilar's offer pull him from his own plans. He had a ragtag group to meet, and so he continued to say nothing to his roommate as he moved off of his bed and gathered his inventory for the night.

First, though, he made sure to change from the old, drab uniform into what the military had given them, finding it more comfortable and better fitted to the job. He made sure to pull the boots on as well. As for items, the flashlight was a no-brainer, but he decided to leave his radio since he was sure one of the others would bring one. His gun was tucked into the band of his pants and he finally grabbed his axe from under his bed, not knowing if it would be needed but not wanting to take any chances.

Finally, he turned to Lunge. "We're heading to the last part of the basement tonight." There was something implied there; if he didn't show up tomorrow, at least his roommate would know why. He didn't think it would be that bad, but it was still better to get the word out. "I'll give you the details tomorrow," he continued after a pause, since he was certainly planning to get out of this alive.

With that all taken care of, Harvey exited his room and moved down the hall. He was going to make sure he wasn't the last person to arrive.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Empty. Again.

Whoop-de-doo.

Less witnesses, good thing, yadda yadda yadda. Peter just wanted to get it all over with and get down to the good stuff. (Good being a subjective word here.) The basement. The coliseum of...whatever the coliseum had in store. A fight. Probably with lions. Three headed lions. The point was that they were finally getting somewhere, and now that the hour had come all Peter wanted to do was slice through every other bogus problem barreling his way and head straight for it. He was sick of worrying about Grell, about monsters, about the godawful crap Jessica and her attitude had brought him, about all the people that had left. Being fiction. Kirk had put a better spin on it, but that still did little to ease the grip on his insides every time the subject popped up. And if Captain freaking Kirk couldn't assuage him, then what could?

Getting down to business might. A chance to get answers would be even better.

[To here.]