The latest intercom announcement filled Aigis with a sense of dread. Aborting her attempt at writing in her journal, Aigis stood silent for a moment then paced to the closet to retrieve her baseball bat. She would normally have offered her roommate some assistance during her first night in the institute, but Kay had already expressed during dinner that she had plans with a friend. It worked for Aigis. She had plans herself. The unhappy task of receiving one last memento from her released friend.

It shook her to the core, thinking how her friend had disappeared so suddenly. They had only just met up, and now she was already gone. It was almost too much, too powerful of an emotion for the android to fully realize.

"I wish you safety in your endeavors tonight, Kay-san," Aigis whispered solemnly. Then, grabbing up her flashlight in her free hand, Aigis moved to the door and made her way down the hall.

[to here]

It was a start, for better or worse. It was an attempt to do better, even if she was doubtful of success. Well. With that one, she'd just have to stick close, is all! The last thing Nigredo needed was to be left alone.

When lunch was over, she realized she hadn't really ate but still, Senna wasn't hungry. She followed dutifully to the showers, and washed up carefully, then waited as they rebandaged her, listening to murmurs of how soon everything would come off. Good. That was something good. Senna shrugged into clothes, snagged her ribbon, and jogged out ahead of the nurse. Man. She really needed something to do to keep her mind occupied.

[to here]

Claude was all too relieved when the announcement signifying the end of lunch played over the intercom system. It gave him the perfect excuse to let his nurse collect his things and lead him out of the cafeteria. He wished he could have privately said something to Luke, at least -- that he appreciated him looking out for him, for one thing, and that he was sorry he'd had to even waste his breath dealing with the likes of Sync on his behalf. But that would probably have to wait for another day, preferably one where Claude could seek Luke out and actively avoid Sync on his own.

He was still pretty steamed, not to mention humiliated, over what had happened, though. As Claude's nurse took him into the sun room, his uninjured hand balled into a fist at his side. Just who the hell did Sync think he was, anyway? Considering he'd been a weeping, bloodied mess the last time Claude had seen him, it was amazing he even had the gall to keep messing with them like this. Maybe Sync had been brainwashed back then, but next time Claude was going to make sure he finished the job right. They'd be on equal terms, if he had anything to say about it, and he wouldn't be holding back.

In the meantime, there wasn't much for him to do except pass the time while he waited for the day to end. Normally arts and crafts would have sounded like a nice distraction, but that wouldn't work today for obvious reasons. Claude just had to keep telling himself that he couldn't give up on getting his sight back. Natalia was kind enough to offer her help tonight, so the least he could do was try not to let himself get too depressed right now.

After the nurse led him to a couch, Claude leaned back against the cushions, tucking one hand behind his head. So far it didn't sound like there were many people milling about the sun room yet, though no doubt that would change soon enough. Maybe he ought to take some time to just relax. He might need his strength tonight, after all.

[For Leon.]

Edward was glad to wake up to a period of respite. While he had been conscious during breakfast, he'd requested to remain in his room for extra "sleep", which had consisted waiting until the room was vacated to ingest the vial of Venom's blood. The vampire had lost his chance last night, but that might have been for the better; this way he wasn't in a rush to examine the flavor, as somewhat repulsive as that sounded. Even though he was primarily concerned with getting a meal instead of trying to divine what chemicals could be in the patient body as a whole - if any were at all - he was taking his job seriously, as he knew the risks Venom was already taking with him

He didn't like debts, after all. He was still trying to make up for his first transgression against the assassin.

The blood was familiar to him, but he could find no difference in it from the first time he had drank from Venom. Though his sense of taste was probably lacking compared to what it had once been, Edward couldn't sense any chemical that shouldn't have been a part of it. It was just... blood.

After the vial was emptied, he'd been sure to shove it back into the pillowcase stashed in the closet, as long as shoving the shotgun under his mattress. He was actually surprised the weapon was seemingly so easy to hide; unless the nurses never entered the rooms to search through them, there was no way it should still be here. In a way, he was beginning to think of the rooms as a safe haven.

Though that thought couldn't be necessarily true. After all, when he awoke, Bella's blood wasn't staining his fingertips, and the bandages on his face had been removed as the cuts slowly healed themselves. Someone was changing them, and if he assumed he hadn't gained the ability to sleepwalk as well as sleep, well...

Lunch had already passed for the vampire if Venom's blood was anything to show for it, so he took his usual route through the line, promptly pushing the tray of whatever-the-hell away from him as soon as he sat down. This time he'd brought his journal with him, and though his memory was perfection itself he wanted physical evidence of what he had found in the institute after all. Mostly he was making a note for Bella - a picture of the blond man, the not-Zato, and sketches showing the way its form had changed subtly to reveal the nature of the beast. Assuming it was a beast, of course.

[For his killer bff.]

They actually listened to some of the suggestions people put in that box? Anise thought the Head Doctor had to be joking when he said that, but she soon heard him mention something that she herself had suggested: sewing supplies. They were really going to get some? Anise could finally get a real needle, so she could make repairs to Tokunaga whenever she needed to. She swiped one of their blunt, plastic needles before, but using that just left big holes in the fabric. Using it on Tokunaga made her feel bad, like she was hurting the poor doll.

"Isn't that nice, Dolores?" The nurse must have caught Anise's hopeful look. "But remember, you'll need to be on your best behavior until then."

"I know, I..." Anise began with her usual dismissive reply, but quickly remembered that the intercom had said 'behavior and attitudes', and instantly changed her tune. "I'll do my very best! Hee hee!" She forced a smile for the old hag.

Unfortunately, the sewing supplies weren't here today, so Anise had to find something else to do for now. Stepping inside the Arts and Crafts room, she quickly found that several tables already had paper craft ('origami,' they called it?) supplies laid out for them, so she guessed she'd just occupy herself with that. The girl sat down at one of the tables, opened up one of the books, and started looking through it.

Cranes, frogs, horses, turtles... There were lots of familiar animals, and a few unfamiliar ones, too. The rabbits looked kind of cute.

[For Ilia!]

[F23]

Once finished with her dinner Nunnally had reached into her desk drawer in search of her journal, thinking to make some notes while she had nothing more to do than wait for the approach of night (for that was all she had to wait for, certainly-- they wouldn't return again tonight... would they?). Though the journal was there, she found something else that she hadn't expected: a plain silver ring, set with a red stone. It quite willingly distracted from her original purpose and worries, and she drew the ring out instead and turned it over in her hands, curiously examining it for any kind of mark or identifying engraving, but found none.

It seemed a peculiar thing to her, as everything else in the drawers served some kind of known purpose-- pens for writing made sense, as did a notebook for writing in, but what use would a supposed mental patient have for a ring? She tried it on and found that it fit, so apparently it was meant for her, though she'd no idea why. Well. As with all unexpected gifts from a place such as this, perhaps she should be wary of it? Though what a ring could do, she'd no idea.

When the intercom announcement came her curiosity only increased further, but so did her concerns. The last place she'd been the night before? The memory flashed before her eyes all unwilling, and she shuddered lightly before firmly placing the ring on the surface of her desk. Lelouch was sure to stop by her room as soon as he could, and perhaps this would make more sense to him.

It barely felt like she'd been outside for any time at all when the intercom sounded and the nurse came to fetch her. "Can't I stay a little longer?" she asked, but the woman only clicked her tongue and frowned, reaching to feel her forehead as though testing for a fever. "The weather simply isn't good enough, Natalie dear," the nurse said, once satisfied that her charge was all right, then drew back and made shooing motions toward the door. "Go on inside and warm up, okay? I don't want you taking a chill now that you're just getting better."

Nunnally sighed but didn't protest; remembering something that Yuffie had said to her, she instead elected to visit the "arts" room. The nurse was all too happy to agree, and once in the room brought over a small pile of assorted supplies with a number of suggestions for projects that Nunnally might want to undertake. She listened with a polite smile but as soon as the woman left again sorted through the glitter and markers and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

Several minutes of careful folding later, she set the completed origami crane on the table in front of herself with a small smile. It was somehow calming, following the familiar pattern of movements that turned a simple piece of paper into a bird; though the process was easier now that she could see how even her folds were, it still felt the same. And still meant the same. She gently tapped the bird's beak with one fingertip, her smile turning briefly thoughtful before she moved to take another piece of paper from the pile. Maybe she could remember some of the other shapes Sayoko had showed her.

[Lelouch and Renamon]

Getting up before the 7-11s opened on Sunday was anathema to any right-thinking man. Sangamon Taylor was no exception. When he wasn't on a field trip to Nowheresville. Where the locals were unconvinced that the Pope was going to personally write them a strongly worded letter if they had fresh Coke with their pancakes. Moving from bed to couch was therefore a lofty achievement, one he was celebrating with a triumphant snore.

Until the couch started to lurch towards a giant screen. He squinted at the LaserDisc cover -- King Kong. Just because he'd voted for it, didn't mean he wanted to watch it. Like Jimmy Carter. Fake animal torture was only cool on MTV. He declined to assist the nurses aside from moving two hundred pounds of biomass off their hands under its own power, and cleared out.

The courtyard was quiet. He swung a leg over a bench, set his notebook down on the warm wood, and pulled out a half-drawn map. He pulled a pen out, uncapped it, and looked at the damn thing. What the fuck would it do? Get a rhythm going and they reprogrammed the fucking building. He laid back, put the map over his face, and worked on his skin cancer instead.


[Scarecrow]

"—na-"

… Viridian red buildings; clear water rushing—blood red running and then somewhere else; raining now, raining so hard it rained through bones, sounded like a drum-beat or a klaxon or Cait with his tail stuck in a socket…

"Han—"

… Insistent rain, more like Barret's gun-fire or pebbled sand against glass or both, loud and pounding and drowning but not, and somewhere overhead hung a second moon with a Tonberry leering…

"Hanna!"

… "Shut up," Yuffie mumbled thickly, her voice sticking in her throat like molasses.

"Oh, dear," said the trumpet in her ear. "You do have to wake up now, you know. Can't have you missing anything."

"Can too." Cracking her eyes open was going to be a chore like none other, Yuffie was quickly realizing. She didn't want to wake up. Sleep tugged at her, jostled her, clung to her. It called her back, pulled her under, but the trumpet—the voice; the nurse—was insistent. Had to get up, had to go face the day, and dear, oh dear, perhaps you're running a tad bit of a temperature, just a little, nothing to worry about.

It was then that Yuffie realized the problems.

One, it was morning. She wasn't in a locker room and she (mostly) didn't feel like she was gonna hack up a bowl of innards stew. That was… good. And bad. And it was awesome and it sucked, so point number two, please. Two: she didn't feel like somebody'd set up a blender in her stomach so much as she felt like somebody'd stuffed her head and limbs full of down-feathers and sticky toffee and socks. The cloying sensation was reseeding, but it lingered maddeningly. Point three, and this was the kicker: Plucky had been close enough to shake her shoulder, had been shaking her shoulder, and didn't have a black eye or a broken wrist to show for it.

"Oh, hell," Yuffie groaned.

Plucky tutted. "Language, young lady. Now, up you get."

Up Yuffie got, quick enough to almost send herself stumbling. She would not get sick. Not, not, not! It just wasn't gonna happen. After throwing on a sweater, Yuffie grabbed the two squishy balls—one orange and the other purple (both sporting stupid smiley faces)—from inside her desk drawer before she, Plucky in tow, left for the sun room. If she had something physical to focus on, something more than chatting or people-watching or cuddling with Fuzzbutt, she'd have a better chance of jump-starting herself into gear. Maybe. Hopefully.

Before long, Yuffie was perched cross-legged on one of the sun room's many sofas, Fuzzbutt the kitten languishing cosily in her lap. One hand rested against her knee—in that hand sat the purple ball. The other hand, her left hand, was up and moving, manipulating the orange ball into small tricks and sleights. Nothin' fancy. Nothin' even interesting, as far as the ninja was concerned. Just a quick warm up to get her fingers—and her brain, ugh; it was still fuzzier than she'd like—going.

[For Kaito and Yukari!]

[ from here ]

"The pharmacy should be right here," Naminé announced, grasping at the door knob once she and Riku reached their destination. The night had been uneventful, and she hoped it would stay that way, so that was why Naminé made sure that she opened the door slowly to make sure there wasn't anything else inside. Nothing happened, so she stepped inside.

And then something happened. The Nobody blinked, and blinked again in disbelief. This wasn't... Instead of shelves and cabinets filled with pills and other things, she found herself in what looked like a shop of some sort. Actually, this was a shop of some sort. Naminé hadn't been in this particular one, but she recognized the name that was plastered all over the store. But... that was impossible!

"How...?" Naminé was sure that this had to be impossible. Not only was this the wrong room, but they weren't even in the Institute anymore! How was this possible?! She turned around, searching for Riku. Had she arrived here alone? Was she the only one who saw this?

[from here]

The noise of the storm abruptly altered as she stepped from the musty storage room to something far more open, going from muffled and distant to far more immediate with the sound of rain pelting against glass windows. Nunnally stared into the distance where the windows should be, confusion and pain and distress building and leaving her completely stunned.

What....

Where....

It wasn't until lightning flashed outside, glaring through the windows and casting the room in mixed light and shadow, that she flinched and realized she was simply standing there unsteadily and the door had once again slammed behind her. She should probably keep trying, keep looking for someone, but that momentary surge of energy appeared to have been her last. It was all too much, and she was exhausted.

Nunnally took one more step forward and her already precarious balance failed her; she dropped heavily to her knees, then just collapsed to the ground entirely. Suzaku, why did you have to leave? she cried silently, tears seeping from under closed eyelids as her fingernails dug into the carpeting beneath her. Brother... Euphemia... where are you?

Perhaps they weren't really here at all. They shouldn't be, and if she could walk through doors that didn't lead to where they were supposed to, if she couldn't even trust the evidence of her own senses, then why couldn't she have imagined their existence? Maybe she was as alone in this place as she'd been in that room despite the doctor's presence. Maybe....

And finally, weary and overwhelmed, the girl drifted into unconsciousness.

[from here]

Through the door was only darkness, but she'd expected that. On this trip Nunnally hadn't the luxury of the flashlight that lived under her pillow, since she wasn't given the opportunity to prepare, but it truly was nothing but a luxury. Darkness was something that she knew well, for the time she'd lived in it far outweighed the time without, and tonight the only monsters she'd encountered walked on two legs and dwelled in the light.

She stumbled forward a few steps, expecting an open hallway, but after only a couple of steps her outstretched hands encountered cool metal. Startled, she turned back toward the door through which she had just walked, but it slammed closed again as though someone had pushed it. But... there was nobody there. Not unless they weren't breathing, or her senses had utterly abandoned her, which she couldn't rule out as a possibility.

Nunnally drew in a breath that shuddered lightly despite her attempt to keep it steady, then began to examine the object against which she was leaning. Neither wall nor door, investigation revealed, but... a cabinet of some kind? There were handles for drawers, and when she pulled one her fingers found nothing but papers. Files? Where....? Was it possible that there was more than one door from that room and she'd gone to the wrong one? A fresh wave of pain pulsed through her head at that thought and she caught her lower lip in her teeth as frustration welled up inside her. All that work, only to take the wrong way out? There was no getting around it, though -- she had to get out to where the others were, as inevitably there would be patients wandering the halls at night. Someone should be out there for her to find. She just had to find them.

She drew in a breath and held it for a moment, then carefully pushed off from the cabinet. Her steps were hesitant and uneven, but she moved unerringly back toward the door where she'd been. Hopefully the way out would be easy to find; she didn't have the energy to search for long. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but that would mean giving up. And she wouldn't do that. Not now. Instead she turned the knob and half-fell through the doorway.

[to here]

[from here]

Raphael stepped through the door that opened onto the Rec Field and... found he wasn't in the Rec Field.

"What the hell?" he said, shaking his head to clear the weird feeling of dizziness and staring around the room with blatant confusion. This sure as hell wasn't outside, in fact, it didn't even look like anything he'd seen in the patient blocks. Just where the hell was he anyway?

"Somethin' musta happened when I went through that door," he muttered to himself. The dizzy, faintly sick feeling was kinda like what he'd felt some of the other times he and his bros had been thrown around space and time and other dimensions, but if whoever was running this place had done something to him or something to the building, Raph couldn't tell.

"Great, so where the hell am I now?" Edging away from the door and flicking his flashlight on, Raph took in the numerous boxes around the place and the names written on them, none of which gave him any better idea of what the hell this was all about. There didn't seem to be anything else of interest around though, so he cracked open the closest box and checked what was inside.

Some photos, an empty wallet, and a notebook was the reward for his curiosity. Useless, useless, and useless. He'd have been better off outside.

"Screw this!" Raph snarled, tossing the box away from himself to smack into some others in the dark He picked up a couple of closer ones and threw them as well for good measure. "You're gonna have to try a lot harder 'en that to slow me down!"

He wasn't sure if whoever was responsible was listening right now, but it made him feel better. He'd retrace and try getting outside some other way then. It wasn't like this was the only door, after all.

Turning to head back the way he came, Raph opened the door again to head out to what was hopefully the hallway in the dorms.

Kirk had barely begun to dry when a nurse appeared to order them to the buses, but he left the warm shelter of the sheriff's office without complaint, and without even bothering to do up the buttons of his coat. The apprehension which had been edging around his thoughts all day was unignorable now, although probably only those who knew him could read it in the urgency of his movements. To the nurses he passed, he simply seemed like another patient in a rush to get out of the rain.

Last week's trip had apparently ended with everything exploding into mayhem at the end of the day, so fact that they were getting as far as the bus was a good sign — probably. Kirk for one would let himself relax once he was sure they weren't all about to be drowned. With this rain, there was little chance of gathering the crew again to discuss their findings, but he'd still rather get there soon enough to make sure they were all accounted for.

As luck would have it, Kirk's speed put him among the first dozen to board the buses. The nurse giving pat-downs before scolded him for not dressing properly, which he deflected with a grin and a cheerful suggestion of how else she could handle him. With how quickly she pushed him on the bus after that, it was too bad Kirk didn't actually have anything to smuggle back.

He chose a seat near the front, and settled in to look out the window for familiar faces. You had to hand it to Landel's staff — at the rate the prisoners were being rounded up, they'd be off in this hellish storm in no time.

[Roxas]

So much for not ending up drowned.

In retrospect, Sam probably should've escaped to a diner or something and stayed dry since it wasn't as if his walking about had yielded anything remotely useful. But he'd wanted to actually do something. He hadn't expected it to go from pouring to dumping buckets, either, but there it was.

At least he'd managed to talk to Dean this morning. Really talk, that was. Yeah, he still had no idea how the hell he was gonna pull any of this off—figuring out this date crap, saving Dean, the list kinda went on—but he'd gotten Dean on board and somehow that was...important, in and of itself. They hadn't been on the same page in awhile. Maybe they still weren't, but it felt that way for now. Sam couldn't ask for more.

Though God knew how long it'd last. Probably not very. You grow up around someone and after awhile, it got easy to predict how things usually went between the two of you.

Shaking rain-soaked bangs out of his eyes, he slipped into the nearest place he could find. Which happened to be—actually, it happened to be a pretty nice place. Nicer than some of the little shops around here and definitely way nicer than the run-down motels he tended to crash in. It made him feel twice as awkward, considering he was already dripping wet on top of everything else, but honestly he didn't even care. They already figured he was crazy so it wasn't like they could think any less of him. Right now, he was more interested in avoiding pneumonia than making friends.

He did keep off the couches, though. No point in leaving them wet for anyone else coming in. He ducked down near the fireplace instead. It was a real fireplace, not one of those fake ones that half of the places had these days. You didn't see those a lot anymore. With any luck, the whole psychiatric patient gig would keep most people away while he made his futile attempt to dry off.

Man. He wondered where Dean was. A part of him kinda hoped Dean was just as soaked as he was. It'd only be fair.

[his new best friends Lelouch and Nunnally]

Once she'd found she wasn't in any danger whatsoever of hopping aboard the Pukemobile, Yuffie had gotten kinda peckish. She'd ditched the bagged breakfast ages ago, way back on the bus, and, haha, like hell was she trekking back over that way to get it. Too much to see in a town without a lot in it.

So, here she was. Sitting at a plastic table in a plastic chair, in the almost completely plastic 'Tasty Burger', with fries, chicken strips, and a banana shake to wash it down with. Yuffie wrinkled her nose, more put off by the Eastern-style 'meal' than the reproachful stares of the staff and patrons. The latter she was way, way more than used to. Came with the job description. All of the job descriptions.

"Should've gone to the Twin Pine," Yuffie muttered around the (plastic!) straw, slumping forward onto her damp, denim-clad elbows. Taking a long pull of vaguely banana-flavored gloop, she cast a deft, if bored, eye around the establishment. As always, she'd gone for the most strategic seat; one that let her see as much as possible, without cutting off her access to at least one viable escape route. Not that she wanted to look at the place. Eurgh.

It was still hard to reconcile how this place should have looked with how it did look. Quick repair jobs were one thing, but something about the set-up rubbed Yuffie the wrong way. It was the same the whole town over. Chips, here and there, cracks in windows and doodles on walls. But no scorch marks, no sign that there'd been a no-holds-barred battle tearing up the place from top to bottom. The residents were pissy and suspicious, but not in that way—not in a way that'd suggest they remembered what they'd done, what they'd turned into, and what the patients had done in return.

[Cloud and Nanaki~.]

Lingering around where the buses were parked made him feel too much like a lost tourist—especially with that woman looking at him like that—so Sam headed off to the park instead. Not too far since he knew Dean would want to see him. Not for anything specific, obviously. It'd just always been automatic to find each other after whatever crazy stuff happened to go down in the night.

Though what they were gonna talk about this time was beyond him. Oh sure, he could ask Dean what went on last night and Dean would probably ask him the same (to which he'd leave out any mentions of Ruby), but that only took up so many minutes. Then what? The job? Not much hunting was getting done. Just another thing that bothered him because yeah, being surrounded by the supernatural wasn't anything new, but a few memorable occasions aside, they looked for these things, not the other way around. Picking up a job or chasing down a trail wasn't the same as having that trail chase you down. It was hard to appreciate the role reversal.

Besides, any discussion of all of this was superficial at best. They were talking around things, not about them, and he knew Dean must've noticed, too.

Still. Screw it. Maybe it was time he pushed all that aside. Dean might've already made the deal—hell, for all Sam knew, Dean's contract might already be up—but he didn't remember the last year. They could...start over, as much as they were able to. Wasn't that the whole reason why he'd decided to keep all this quiet? To make sure Dean didn't have to deal with his crap?

Frowning to himself, he leaned back against a tree, resting his foot flat against the trunk. The skies were seriously looking grey and heavy, but man, he almost wanted to say he missed getting caught in the rain or other generally bad weather conditions. There was something so insanely controlled about the institute, it creeped him out. Kinda nice to see that at least the weather was one part that hadn't gone all The Giver on them.

Well. That and a communal breeding program. Presumably.

[say hi, big brother. :( ]

"I look like a hobo," Yuffie whinged.

"You look lovely," her nurse consoled.

Yuffie was having none of it. "Hobos aren't lovely," she argued. "They're smelly and gross and they try to steal your small change." And then they realize who you are, and why they've suddenly got their feet jammed up the exhaust pipes of two separate trucks. And then they wet themselves (though that might've just been the cheap booze they'd been guzzling; she hadn't stuck around to find out).

Plucky sighed, ushering Yuffie firmly onto the bus. "Sit by the front," she said, still affecting that disconcertingly soothing air. "In case you feel ill."

In case? In case? "There's no 'in case' about it! You could always let me walk, y'know. Or, like, hook up a skateboard to the back of this bolt-bucket. That'd be mad cool, huh, don'tcha think? Near death-experiences always did help keep dinner down the trap-hole." Well, it was true. They did help, adrenalin being awesome like that. Unfortunately, Plucky was a prude, stubborn, and a complete party-pooper. All she did was shove a breakfast bag into Yuffie's hands—orange juice, thank gawd—before gliding away.

Left alone, it was all Yuffie could do not to fall into the biggest sulk of the century. If she didn't look like a hobo, she at least looked like she'd crashed into three separate wardrobes and come out wearing whatever fell on her first. And, and! And, the jeans! Why in Leviathan's name would anybody consent to wearing something so restrictive? They were like death in denim form.

Admittedly, part of her ire—most of it—was down to how far she'd gotten last night.

Because she hadn't. Gotten far. At all. Ugh!

She dropped her head forward, then knocked it back once, hard, against the seat. It's just one of those things, she could hear her old man say. Nothing you can do, he'd add, so you might as well go along with it. Crotchety, senile old jerk, always talkin' like he had the answer to everything right there in the palm of his hands. What a dumb way to live.

[Kurogane?]

When the intercom finished another deliberately vague note, Lana was already standing at her door, flashlight in hand and scalpel securely in her coat pocket. She'd neglected to find out exactly how the doors worked at night, but the general idea was clear. Some time soon, they would open, and she had to be ready the moment they did.

Click. The knob loosened under her hand, and she stepped out into an as-yet empty hallway.

F28 was only two doors down -- no-one else emerged as she walked over to the door. She tucked one hand behind her back and waited for Ema to come out. That she would was inevitable, despite the monsters and Lana's express orders. She would just have to repeat them until Ema listened; Lana couldn't protect her and investigate at the same time.

[for Ema]