When she left the lobby, Anise still didn't know what to think about her visitor. All this time, she thought the one person the institute would never truly get to was the Colonel, and that if he was gone, then maybe he was hiding somewhere, plotting a way to rescue the rest of them. Now that she thought about it... maybe that was naïve of her. She only thought those things because she didn't want to believe that the institute had that much power...

Thinking about it too hard made her feel so anxious it made her stomach churn, though, so Anise decided it would be best to distract herself in the meantime, and then think about it when her head was clearer. She'd probably have to tell Guy and the others what happened, too.

While she really wanted to see the movie she helped select, she also really wanted to see if the Arts & Crafts Room had those new sewing supplies the Head Doctor talked about a while ago. When she arrived, she asked her "nurse" about it, who cheerfully replied that yes, they had them, and that Anise was among the ones fortunate enough to have the privilege of using them. Was that a good behavior thing, or a military rank thing...? Well, in either case, it meant Anise got to check out the new materials they brought in, so she wasn't going to complain.

There were some pretty floral patterns among the pieces of fabric, so Anise selected those. Anything that she made had to have a few cute elements, after all. She brought the pieces to her table along with some needles, thread, scissors, and a roll of a thick cord-like material.

Before she could begin, however, that "nurse" returned, dropping an envelope on the table in front of her. "This is for you," was all she said before walking away again. When Anise picked the item up, her eyes widened in shock. There, on the envelope, was the name Dolores... written in her Mama's handwriting. Much of the other information on the outside had been blacked out, but... was this from her parents!? Without a moment's delay, she tore open the envelope and began reading the letter within, her hands trembling as she did.

[For Claude!]

It figured that night would end before Rita and Taura could progress any further. Rita wasn't particularly disappointed to wake up abruptly, as they had reached a dead end. Really, the institute was doing them a favor by bringing them back to the starting point, where they could regroup.

What she didn't appreciate was the loss of valuable time, and the fact that her equipment had been confiscated once again. Rita didn't have time to mess around... which was precisely why the cheery voice broadcast over the intercom only served to grate on her nerves more than usual. In fact... how was the Head Doctor even giving that announcement? She doubted he'd managed to take the institute back in such a short amount of time, though the broadcast itself was suspicious for a number of reasons. Even though she could clearly hear the man's voice, it didn't necessarily mean that he was there. She had to look at things critically.

Still, it seemed almost as if everything had returned to normal... with a few exceptions. The different staff was one, and her lack of possessions was another. It didn't seem like the staff was expecting to fool the patients into thinking this was the same old institute, so why...?

Even as she went about preparing for the day and walking to her first destination, Rita kept her most pressing questions in mind, coming up with multiple hypotheses to explain what was happening. Since she didn't expect that the Chapel would hold anything of interest to her, Rita opted for the Sun Room instead. She was interested in seeing the bulletin board, for one.

When she entered the Sun Room, Rita brought a pen and her journal with her. If no one approached her, she would at least have a chance to document her discoveries from the previous night. First, however, she checked the bulletin board, only to find it completely empty. That confirmed a few suspicions of hers. Content to see evidence supporting her ideas about the strange occurrences, Rita sat down on a couch, opened her journal, and began to write.

[Free!]

[Teleporting in from here]

The room was as small and dark as Soma remembered it being, with no indication that anyone had been here previously. No clues as to where they were, either, though now that she thought about it, she remembered several rooms on her maps indicating that they might contain files.

Probably still in the Institute, then. Soma took a deep breath, trying to orient herself after the feeling of being yanked abruptly out of one location and into another. At least now she knew her ring worked.

She switched on her flashlight, giving the area a quick sweep--nothing at the moment--before turning to Mele. "All right?"

A night off. Odd concept, though Taura wasn't fool enough take the silence on the intercom as implying that Aguilar had bought into this plan. That second click hadn't escaped her attention -- recording? Throwing some plan into motion, just loudly enough to let them all wonder?

If it was the latter, someone had finally given this place a lesson in psychological warfare. She shivered, and went back to thinking about what she should do with her mostly-free night.

She came to the conclusion that vacations were a lot more fun when she had someone to spend them with. Though the planet to explore had put in an appearance.

Maybe Rita would have some ideas, if she could be pried away from magical science once the experiment was over. Science people were like that -- if you didn't fit in, you were a puzzle, not a problem, even if it got just as tiring being poked and prodded, whether with needles or just with words.

Her things were all ready to go; she had decided to take the radio tonight. If Aguilar didn't have anything to say, someone else might, and if they decided to run out towards hostile territory, she could leave it behind. The materia and her claw she tucked into her purse, and the shuriken she carried. She didn't need a flashlight on familiar ground.

[to here]

Well, that was depressing. Suits the mood, I guess. She hadn't eaten much, though, which was beginning to look like a bad idea as she looked up into the darkening sky. She'd wing it, somehow, she thought, disgruntled, then continued down the street.

The important thing was to keep anything useful in sight so she could make a dash for it. Probably best if she could manage to be one of the last people herded into the buses, for that matter. Something like that. Anxious, she ended up pacing, and then randomly entering one of the stores she'd passed just to get her mind off the circles it was running in.

... What was this place, anyway?

[Soma!]

Speaking with Aigis had been enlightening in a number of ways, but when they had run out of things to discuss, Castiel had managed to dismiss himself. He didn't know if it had been "smooth," as Dean would have called it, but they had exchanged the words that they needed to and that had seemed reason enough to end the conversation.

More than that, he was starting to develop that tugging feeling in his stomach.

He had walked the whole length of the main street here and still didn't have much of an idea of which shops to go into. He could enter each one as a way to be thorough, but he didn't know if he would have the time to inspect each store as carefully as he would want to. Who knew what secrets were hidden in this place? And if there were none, then he would feel as if he'd wasted his time.

Getting himself some food before he continued his search seemed like the best plan at the moment, mainly because Castiel knew exactly where to go for that. Maybe after he ate, the sheriff's would be open. As Castiel made his way back through the snow toward the fast food place, he grabbed for the appropriate coupon, seeing that it would grant him "1 Free Tasty Meal and Ice Cream."

Ice cream. It was a shame that Gabriel was now nowhere to be found, as Castiel would have gladly given his brother that portion of it if he'd gotten a second burger in return. Still, there was no point in dwelling on it, and so the angel entered the restaurant and waited patiently in line. At least his hunger was no longer so great that he had to order five or more at a time. That had earned him some odd looks.

[For Dean.]

[from here]

The hardware store was full of equipment, packed on shelves.  Taura kept her elbows tucked in; the aisles were big enough for her to move in, but she still felt very visible -- like her height alone would betray their mission.

She'd wondered, before coming in, if most or all of the equipment would be so primitive as to be unrecognizable.  Turned out there were only so many ways to make an open-ended wrench -- they hung on hooks rather than antigrav failure-friendly magnetized racks, but she could find everything she could need to field-repair anything from a plasma mirrorsuit to a shuttle's rockets.  All she'd need was the mostly-intact pieces, and a lot of free time.  She wasn't a mechanical genius.  But she could get by.

The powered equipment was a little more exotic -- big buttons and dials everywhere, which was good in an emergency but there were so many of them on everything -- most of this stuff was manual, she realized.  Electric assist for power, but nothing programmable.  Huh.  Mele probably needed something completely unpowered -- the flashlight batteries wouldn't do much even if they were compatible, and the staff weren't going to charge power packs just because they asked nicely.

Taura found a set of small wood chisels, with sharp ends.  She flipped one end-over-end, and put it back.   The handle was comfortable to hold, but it wouldn't fly worth a damn.  "These are useless.  You having any luck?"  

Taura's stomach was growling, but she could be patient. Her nails were still tacky; she'd rather wear nail polish and eat lunch than vice versa.

Being out in the snow was much more pleasant when she was dressed for it; it was pretty, all clean and white. Deceptive, but pretty. Nothing about this town was what it seemed, and she wasn't forgetting that, but the weather didn't make it worse. Not when escape was already cut off; exposure was low on the list of worries. It wasn't like some of the Jacksonian brothels, the cheap ones, that assumed the cold would be enough to keep their workers there. They didn't know enough about desperation, those owners; Taura did, though they'd only once considered trying that with her, and not for very long. Hah. She could run forever, even in this, if it would get her anywhere.

Taking one of the buses wouldn't be very hard, or one of these ground-cars, but they still had to have somewhere to go. The only place she knew how to get to was the institute, and while that would be an unorthodox and unexpected move, it didn't seem like a good idea, either.

Since she didn't have a destination in mind, she just strolled down the sidewalk, watching the snow come down and waiting for her nails to dry.

[Mele!]

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.]

[From here.]

Even with the change in staff, the Entry Room looked the same as it did during his first nighttime visit, save for the lack of Mele and her conjured fire. Oh, thinking about her brought back a twinge of guilt- knowing how the town was at night, she surely wouldn't approve of his heading there, even if he was in good company. Well, he couldn't sit in his room forever, and there was no guarantee the rooms were safe- after all, that was where the nurses collected people for the Sleep Studies. Besides that, he'd not been outside of the Institute's walls at night on his own volition. It was high time he changed that.

He frowned to himself in the darkness. Now that he had his body, what would he do with his time at night? He was still no closer to rescuing Dorothy or any of his friends from Wizard Landel's brainwashing, and the General had hinted that things would only get harder from there on out. He knew they had to be stopped, but how? And what could he do? He wasn't a fighter like Depth Charge, or a witch like Mele; he was not a doctor or professional or even someone with a working brain. The fact that he was seemingly useless was what grated on him the most. However, if there was anything the Scarecrow knew, it was that he couldn't give in. Even if it took him forever, he'd think of something. He had to!

The Scarecrow swept the room with his light before heading in, trailing along the wall for safety's sake. "So you've been to town at night?" he asked. "Aside from the time we were left there?" There was also the time the doors were enchanted, but there was a chance not everyone had ended up there that night.

[from here]

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

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

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

[to here]

[From here.]

Her boots fell with heavy sounds on the smooth floor. She was on the verge of stomping. The loudness struck her about halfway through the new hall, and Claire finally took a deep breath. She didn't pause, but her footsteps came lighter. She slowed.

It wasn't a good idea to be making so much noise. Even with the flashlight giving her away. If she didn't keep a level head, she could land herself in a lot of trouble. Though she might welcome another chance to beat on something right now, it wasn't the time or the place.

Claire sunk her teeth into her lower lip, and carried on.

[To here.]

[From here.]

All righty. First one here. Surprise surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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]

After what seemed like an eternity of being amused, irritable, bored, in pain, in excruciating pain, and any combination of those, Guybrush was met by the same soldier who had led him to the cafeteria. He wasn't offered a trip to the Sun Room to check the bulletin board, but didn't push for it anyway. That would have been more walking, and moving was one of those many, many physical activities he didn't feel like doing in any capacity. Not today... or until next week, or whenever he'd stop feeling like he'd been on a date with a rough manatee named Large Marge. There was a slow minute of him feebly getting to his feet, then he followed the soldier without comment.

The comment came when Guybrush was handed a leather jacket on his way out the door. "A fine leather jacket... hah." He hissed as he pushed his right arm through the sleeve, settling to just leave the left draped over his shoulder. It was then he noticed the embroidery. At least Aguilar had a decent budget for clothing. If the pants worked, he'd be set.

There was something to be said about the General's methods, though. Why make the people who hadn't been in the food fight do the cleaning, while letting the guilty ones stand around? Sure, he wanted everyone to know who was responsible for the punishment, but wouldn't that just-

Oh. Wow, now that was a new level of crafty manipulation. Even LeChuck could be proud of it, if he wasn't behind it in some way. His disappearance made it possible- even probable- that his showing-up-and-playing-innocent-human-kidnapee routine had been an elaborate rouse, one even more diabolical than creating a carnival with which to recruit unsuspecting tourists into his undead army, more time-consuming than using a Mighty Pirate™ to look for a voodoo-sucking sea sponge so he could... get his mojo back? Oh yeah- Guybrush had died before that one reached Chapter 5. But if Landel's Institute was something LeChuck had cooked up so he could woo Elaine From The Past and change the future, then it was way, way more complex than his previous schemes.

And if it wasn't some incredible plot LeChuck had hatched because he finally grew tired of having his plans foiled? That made things even more complicated.

Guybrush made his way toward one of the benches, sprawling across it as he leaned his head against the backrest. Was the wall higher today? Maybe that was the aching in his chest talking. Either way, he didn't think he'd be going over it in an attempt to Escape from Aguilar's Institute™ that night unless they added a wheelchair ramp.

[Morgan]

[F2. Continued from here.]

But not all light was gone from the room, at least not for long. After the corpse-like woman left the intercom, and after her serious-sounding male replacement had finished his warning, a faint golden light faded into existence. Rapunzel couldn't place the source right away - it seemed to be coming from everywhere in the edges of her vision, casting a bright haze over things as it strengthened. Quickly enough, however, she realized that the glow was familiar. Very familiar. Like so intensely familiar it hurt. The glow was coming from the top of her head, and it was slowly spreading down from the roots of her hair, down, down, down to the tips.

Rapunzel could only watch, dumbfounded as her hair grew. It grew and grew and grew and grew, spiraling into a pile at the foot of the bed, all the while her scalp pulsating with the warmth of her magic. "I... I-I—" She couldn't get a word out until it was all finished. Still not as long as it had been before, but there it was. Her hair was back, almost entirely intact.

She looked back up at the dark-haired girl, still gawping at the sight as the glow faded back into the darkness. "I... Oh my gosh, I can't believe it." Rapunzel sifted a hand into her locks, pulling a section up and drawing it through her fingers to make sure it was really there. "I-I guess I don't have to explain anymore. This is what I was missing! Why is it back now, though? I mean, I heard someone say things 'get better at night', but I didn't think...!"

Rapunzel pushed herself back to her feet, wobbling as she nearly tripped over the pile of hair in the dark. "Did something happen to you just now? Did you feel anything different? Tell me this isn't just me!"

[From here.]

The big connecting corridor. He may be in a rush, but this hallway deserved extra caution. What would he do if he tried to get to Stefan and ended up mauled on the way there? The first night when he'd smelled blood here, it was still a bit... haunting. It meant there was a chance of something lurking, dragon or not.

Dammit, he was trying to reminisce again. Less thinking, more walking (which, as things went, was actually a feat for a vampire. It came with the whole multi-tasking thing.)

Sweeping his light through the length of the corridor, Edward inspected every bit of wall the light touched, eyes darting like a bird's for any sign of movement. Still no patients. At least the stillness would make it easy to see any potential ambush. At least, that's what he was going to tell himself.

[To here.]

For once, HK was working very hard to hide a giddy facial expression as he met his nurse at the door. He'd already hidden his scalpels in his clothing. The wonderful, sharp implements of doom would be needed today. “Statement: Despite my reticence towards all processed meat and plant products, I am experiencing intolerable levels of hunger,” he informed his nurse. “I require an especially large meal.”

It was the easiest and best excuse to load his food tray with several of these 'inglish muffin sandwiches', and two glasses of white milk. He then found a table strategically located in the center of the refueling area, and waited. He needed the room as full as possible before the Evil Plan could begin.

[Free, but planning doom upon all.]

[From here.]

Well, the second floor was just room after room of boxes, wasn't it? The Scarecrow reached for his map and pen, preparing to label the entire hall as "Where one might find boxes and batteries" when the name of the room caught his eye. "It says here that this is the Patient Possessions Storage," he said, stopping after only a few steps into the room. He took another look around- surely enough, every box on the shelf had its own label, each bearing the name of a patient. Whether they were the possessions of past or present patients was yet to be known.

The Scarecrow started at the A section, passing slowly down the line in the hopes of finding a box for Abe Sapien. With no luck on the first name, he skipped to the wall with the S boxes, scanning for a "Scarecrow" box while he was there. It looked like they followed the same pattern as the files, going with the name given by the Institute. He paused again, turning to Mele as an idea came to mind. "Do you suppose this is where they keep what we had on us when they brought us here?"