_{[Free, no limits.]}

Not that he was digging his heels in or anything, but the end of the day found Ichimoku Ren on the opposite end of town from the drop-off point. He didn’t need any more alone time, considering he’d been on his own the entire day, the sheriff’s office having been empty and his newfound appetite not being enough to spur him into lunch (or breakfast, for that matter), though alone just seemed to be how he rolled lately. When he wasn’t involved in other people’s plots.

That day, he’d been doing nothing but following his own whims, minding his own business rather than start up a conversation with someone else. He didn’t have much of a plan in mind--plans hadn’t yielded a whole lot of success yet, anyway, not that he saw--and after curiously scoping out the outside of Crossroader’s Bar, he absently continued down main street, then went farther still, crossing Kelley Street and into a another park. A park that looked like the polar opposite of its counterpart on the other end of town.

Sketchy. He was about the best looking thing around.

As he entered the shade of the trees, he looked around him, hands buried deep in his pants’ pockets. Probably not the safest place to wander in the evening, but the doll wasn’t exactly worried about getting held up in a random mugging, whether or not the staff was camped out throughout the town to keep an eye on them all no matter where they went.

His foot brushed a crushed soda can on the ground, and after a moment, he bent to pick it up. Turning it over in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over the side, then sighed and lobbed into the nearest trash can. So much for picture perfect. The unfriendly atmosphere was kind of a relief in a superficial way, like a reminder that bad stuff still happened during the day time, too. Like nightshift was to Landel’s, this park could be the dark underbelly to Doyleton’s cheery exterior.

Or not. Everything he was seeing could just as easily be an illusion conjured up by his not so favorite Head Doctor, and wasn’t that an optimistic thought.

_{[from here]}

The sheriff’s place was closer, and that decided it for him.

Outside, the doll stood looking up at the building, scrutinizing it. The slight skepticism he felt thankfully didn’t bleed into his expression. Well, he’d known there was a sheriff, and he knew what a sheriff was--in fact, he’d even played a sheriff one or two times, complete with the star badge and cowboy hat--but ultimately, seeing the office of one with his own eyes was almost comical.

Japan didn’t have sheriffs, but it had the internet and Western movies.

After a moment, the doll stepped up to the door and knocked politely, because he was only willing to play into the ‘I’m a patient, so I don’t always have to follow proper etiquette’ role he’d had foisted on him. But all the same… He waited the minimum amount of time for someone inside to recognize there was someone at the door before reaching out and opening it himself, enough to poke his head in.

There was no point in not taking advantage of his outsider status sometimes. It wasn’t like he could even confirm this town wasn’t anything more than a prop conjured up by Landel like his blood and fog effects, anyway.

Senna stepped off the bus to wind blowing through the clothes she was given. A sad face at one of the nurses allowed her a long red scarf as well, and once she had draped it around her neck and let it hang down her back, she had trotted off.

The park she had saw last time seemed a good place to be on the look-out for the chicks from last night. It was close to the buses, and a big enough place that if they remembered that they had a race date, it would suit its purpose. The girl ran to a place in the middle of the field and waited there, shifting her weight from side to side. After a while, this wasn't enough, and Senna traded back and forth between jogging in place and acrobatics--the easy flips and cartwheels keeping her warm.

Her mind had changed in the night before. She had gotten a taste of what leadership entailed, and she wasn't sure she had rose to the occasion or not. She knew she had tried her best, and had been willing to give as much as she had, but it hadn't been enough. She knew this. Hokuto, at least, had gotten hurt, and in the end, they still hadn't explored more than the schoolhouse. They really needed a different approach with that place.

She went back and forth internally, body going through the motions and reflexes of her movements.

[for... Falis, Hokuto, Meche, and Soma?--and down to here]

The bus ride had been uneventful. Tim was more than a little annoyed at the shirt he was wearing. He was sure it was a girl's shirt, but the nurse had assured him it wasn't, and had refused to get him anything else. The way too tight pants weren't really any help, and he was sure the color coupled with the tightness was some not-so-well-hidden hint that they knew exactly who he was. At least the coat covered up the stupid shirt. It was unnecessary, maybe, but it served it's purpose. And he could do worse than worn out blue Converse. Why they were blue and completely refused to match the rest of the clothes he'd been brought, well, who even knew.

The sack lunch was a ridiculous touch, as far as he was concerned. And the way the staff was littered all over the place, was this really necessary? It sure as hell wasn't like any hospital he'd ever heard of. Letting mental patients run around a town? That was crazy in and of itself.

He hadn't shaken the feeling he'd gotten last night. Blood all over the place, and he hadn't been able to reach Kon right away, and...

He stood on the street corner, unable to push the thoughts completely out of his head. All that blood, and it smelled real, and he couldn't save anyone because he couldn't be Robin and he wasn't cut out for it...

Dad, I'm sorry.

He forced himself to open his eyes. This was not the time or the place for that. Kon wasn't dead (well, okay, maybe he was, but he wasn't dead again), and the blood wasn't his fault. It wasn't like some other things, and it wasn't something he could have prevented or helped. It was just...something that had happened.

But he hated feeling like he had no control. He just couldn't stand that. So he stood there, fists clenched inside the too-long sleeves of the coat, and told himself to breathe. He had a few short hours to find something useful in this town. There was no sense in wasting the trip.

[Waiting for Alfred. He just doesn't know it yet.]

One second he was in the hallway, dizzy and sickened and barely able to focus as Youko picked him up (and he'd thought for a moment to warn her to be careful before remembering his shirei couldn't hurt her anyway, even agitated as they were) and then the next...in bed. Back in the sterile hospital room, with only the sharp scents of cleaners and laundry soap from the sheets, but nausea and a lingering pain behind his eyes still reminded him of the close call the night before.

Before he had time to think about it for long, though, the door opened and the nurse arrived with a bundle of unfamiliar clothing; she fussed over him briefly, trying to feel his forehead (from which he automatically grimaced and ducked away) and cooing over him like he was an invalid child. Of course he was a little feverish; it would only have been worse if the blood had touched him as it came so close to doing.

But the woman only bundled him into the clothing she'd brought without paying any attention to his protests, and he was hard-pressed to decide whether or not the shirt she gave him was any better than the bright yellow smiling face. And then he was led out to the front yard, through what he noted didn't look anything like the "holy ground" of the night before, and given a brown paper bag before being herded onto a bus with admonitions to "take it easy" ringing in his ears.

He dropped into the first empty seat he found, leaving the bag sitting next to him unopened as he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Food was most definitely not interesting at the moment, and he had things to think about anyway.

[waiting for Youko]

[From here]

Eureka!

This closet, small and cramped as it was, was a veritable data cache of supplies and materials! A practical Au mine! Industrial-strength chemical cleaners in non-Euclidean containers! Buckets of varying sizes, concentrically stacked! Cylindrical lights! Bulbed lights! A hand truck! Duct tape. Sho felt like a little boy in a slide-rule shop.

Pulling open a garbage bag from one of the shelves, he started loading it with all sorts of goodies: bleach, toilet paper, brushes, spray cans, doorstops - it all went in. Filling a bucket full of light bulbs, he duct-taped another bag over the top so they'd stay put. After filling a bag full of metal pipes and other sensational cylinders, he started loading it all onto the hand truck along with his sheet full of broken wooden furnishings from his room. Duct-tape was a key element in adding this lot together into a complex polynomial that didn't look like it would fit out the door.

He paused to take a breath and suddenly the room became a lot quieter. Sho came to acute realization that he'd been cackling madly the entire time.

After a few seconds, the cackling resumed.

Duct taping the toolbox to the bottom of the hand truck and slinging a roll of extension cords over one shoulder, Sho looked about for anything else he might need. After a moment's consideration, he filled another bag full of batteries, spare rolls of duct tape, a hand vacuum and a couple cans of paint, securing this new addition to the top of the scooter stool. He pushed it out into the hall to give himself more volume within which to maneuver. After judicious application of mass*acceleration, the over-loaded hand truck followed.

"Now, for the finishing touches," he said with a grin, adjusting the coils of cords on his shoulder. He looked around, several items catching his eyes.

A few minutes later, he had a flashlight taped to each arm and the roll of duct tape, now quite thin, over his wrist. There was a "Wet Floor" sign around his neck.

[To here]

[From here]

Starting off down the hall, he took it at an even stroll, checking doors one by one.

Trial 1: Not a supply closet.
The washing machines might make good material though.
Trial 2: Not a supply closet.
The filing cabinets *see above ref.
Trial 3: Locked.

Setting down his sack of goodies, Sho fished out his tools. Taking a moment to assess the correct angle and vector for his next experiment, he proceeded to bang away at the handle with the drawer.

Scientifically, of course.

[From here]

Finally reaching the top of the steps, Sho's velocity at last hit 0. Panting for breath, he set down the sheet full of thing he'd brought from his room. If this little jaunt was any indication, he'd have to recalculate his stamina and other physical statistics; either that or he was just out of shape. He hadn't done a lot of honest to goodness running the past few weeks, after all.

Slumping against the wall, he waved his flashlight around at the darkness as he caught his breath. Catching sight of the hallway he needed, he closed his eyes and just let his bloodstream carry the necessary oxygen to his muscles to ease the lactic acid buildup. Just a pause, and then he'd be gone in t-minus 10, 9, 8...

[To here]

[From here]

Up and up and up he went, taking the stairs in a Fibonaccian sequence until he had to admit he couldn't leap 8 steps at a time and had to settle for fluttering back and forth between the first four prime numbers.

Sho's bag of stuff was, despite the law of conservation of mass, starting to feel heavier.

"Hectopascal," he cursed under his breath, trying not to pant as he reached the top.

[To here]

[from here]

No, really, where the fuck was everyone? Shit, someone needed to be out and about. The rescue-mission post had had a dozen or so eager-beaver volunteers, so where were they? He hoped they were around when he got back with the gear, because he wasn't planning to spend the night as a poor man's on-call EMT.

O.K., so he didn't have other plans beyond the appeal of going back to his room and seeing if falling asleep by design yielded better results. But the idea of turning around and heading upstairs himself was marginally less appealing than a solo night dive. I.e. absolutely dumbfuck moronic, given his current mental state. He could admit to something resembling shellshock, here in the dark, by himself. Nothing a few beers and a few good nights' sleep wouldn't cure, provided he could get them.

[to here]

[from here]

The main hallway was empty, too. The quiet was broken only by squeak of S.T's shoes on the tile floor and tiny creaks of metal as the toolbox swung as he walked.

This was the part in the horror movie where the cheerleader took a knife to the throat. Good thing he'd left his pom-poms at home. As long as he was the idiot friend or the brains (hell, both) he should make it at least to the third act.

He hurried along, hugging close to the left-hand wall.

[to here]

[in M7]

Hanatarou had managed to choke down about half of his dinner before finally giving up and pushing the tray away. With a glance back at Sora to make sure his roommate wasn't looking, he'd opened the closet door to get his uniform and started to change; he thought that if he was going to act like a healer he could at least look like one. Right?

He was just settling his pack in place when the intercom went off, and he gave a startled glance back toward the speaker. The announcement was creepy and disturbing as usual, but considering that he was already a bundle of nerves as it was...well, there wasn't really a visible impact on him. There were supposed to be two people - two strangers - coming by to be healed, and he hoped that he'd be able to help them.

The healer paused for a moment, staring blankly at the imitation Hisagomaru in the corner of the closet before finally deciding to leave it there for the time being. He'd have to see how he felt after trying to heal two people before deciding what he was going to do next.

Scar had realized it during the announcement after breakfast, and he had proceeded to create reluctance for it during the whole day, right until this very moment. Today was shower day. Shower day.

The staff had to practically drag their charge into the damp rooms after lunch. Had he been in the possession of his old nails, he would have stubbornly dug them into the floor ironically similar to any house-cat to prevent the nurses from moving him one inch closer to the water. For now he could only protest.

Because Scar hated water. And he hated getting wet even more, which was the inevitable consequence of coming into contact with water.

Unfortunately, he was pushed into the damp rooms even despite his protests with the order to 'clean himself'. The former feline knew that he wouldn't be allowed to leave before he had least made an attempt at the human version to clean himself - which the nurse's stern words only served to confirm - but that didn't quite cease his protests. It took a threat of sedation and to be washed by the nurses for Scar to finally move to one of the many empty shower-stalls.

And that was how far is 'cooperation' would go until now. Though he had endured this hellish experience more often since his stay here, Scar eyed the shower-head as if it would spit molten lava instead of water.

Other than the single person who was apparently "200 years from his future", no one had replied to his message on the bulletin board. Tenzen couldn't be certain whether it was a good thing or not, but this meant other Iga or even those damned Kouga were not taken captive along with him. This begged the question of why they had captured just him, though it could be easily explained because of his own death (which naturally meant the remaining ninja had gone ahead). But to take a corpse captive, they must have known he would come back from death. Otherwise, there would hardly be a point.

Provided that it wasn't some sort of illusion created by one of the aforementioned Kouga, of course. Though he knew the rivaling clan a little better than most Iga thanks to his history (and life span), he was by far not aware of all of their techniques. It could very well be possible that one of them could pull such tricks. Of the ten chosen Kouga, only four remained. There was only one Kouga he didn't know the ability of; the woman Kagerou. Even though the issue remained the same; they must've known he would come back from death. No Kouga (that hadn't died) could have known, unless a member of the Iga had gone around telling them.

There were various possibilities, one of them being a certain mimic. Either way, he would need to find a way to properly test both theories, he supposed.

According to the voice from what was called the 'intercom' (the manner this place made announcements still sounded as if it was coming from the walls itself), there was no need for him to follow the other patients to the 'showers'. Judging from the rest of the announcement, these showers were used to clean oneself.

Either way, he was instead brought to the area called the Sun room. The ninja took a seat on a couch rather close to the bulletin board, mostly to keep an eye on it in case someone wrote something of interest. Not that he expected in a place filled with madmen, but there was hardly anything else he could do right now but wait until nightfall.

[Free, limit: any]

Just as von Karma started to enter the doorway leading to the Courtyard to look around for anyone remotely resembling his daughter, that pretentious lunatic's voice rang out over the Intercom, heralding the approach of lunch time. Right away, the damned nurse practically dragged him back into the cafeteria and towards the serving tables, telling him in that cloyingly cheerful tone that he could get his fresh air after he had had his meal. What rotten timing!

His mood worsened as he saw what was on those tables. "Nurse! This is the same greasy, disgusting, perfect-artery-ruining swill that was offered for lunch the last time I was in here! Does this Institute serve nothing else? How is any of this healthy for someone whom you claim has recently suffered from a stroke?!"

"Why, you're right, Mr. Fuchs! Here, I'll fix you a nice, big, healthy salad." Before he could protest that he wasn't hungry anyway, the smiling nurse loaded a heap of greens and some fruits onto a plate for him. Then she led him to one of the tables and seated him there. "Now, be a good man and finish all of that. You will do that just for me, won't you?"

The look he shot her in response indicated that he would never do anything "just for her." Certainly, not consuming this entire mountain of lettuce and carrots. As much as he approved of salads, the portion she served him was nothing short of ludicrous. Glaring at her in silence, he made no pretense of even starting in on this ridiculous travesty of a meal. Finally, she seemed to take the hint, excusing herself to attend to the other patients... but not without admonishing him that his "plate had better be clean" by the time she returned to take him to the Courtyard.

As she left him, von Karma looked all around him to see whether Franziska had come into the cafeteria yet. Unfortunately, as he had already arranged to meet his former roommate at this time, all he could do for now was to attempt to visually confirm her presence in this hellhole. As much as he hoped that the author of the replies to this S.T.'s note was nothing more than an impostor -- in which case, he would make that person pay for brazenly impersonating his daughter -- he was not entirely certain of that right now.

In the meantime, he had other practical matters to attend to. He still needed to speak to Javert to find out what had truly happened during the time he was unconscious. As he surreptitiously scanned the stream of arriving patients for the face of his daughter -- or those of his enemies -- he patiently awaited Javert's arrival, hoping that the man could still recognize him after all this time.

[Closed to Javert]

All praise to Leviathan, the Flower of Wutai was free!

Yuffie all but bolted away from the weirdo she'd shared her breakfast table with. She wanted to get to the courtyard as soon as possible, wanted to be free of the jolting disquiet brought on by Albedo's creepy grin, strange attitude, and his questions. If it hadn't been for the night before - and if he hadn't been one of the ones directly involved -- maybe it wouldn't have bothered her so much, but she was on edge. Couldn't quite work out what to think and what to feel. A breath of fresh air and the feel of grass under foot would hopefully fix that, or at least make it easier to deal with.

She spent the trip over bugging her nurse, as usual. And again as usual, she escaped from the woman as soon as she possibly could. "Like I'd ever cause trouble!" She called back to Miss Stuffy McNursey-pants, calling an end to their pseudo-argument about behaviour and safety. Grass tickled her palms as she cartwheeled across it. She breathed so deep that it almost made her dizzy, tumbling to a stop right by the edge of the pond, and stared up at the sky. Just this time last week, she'd met Sagara for the first time. It felt like months ago… Yuffie sat up sharply.

Now wasn't the time for nostalgia. Now was the time for the future, for getting her head on straight. The usual avoidance tactic just wasn't gonna cut it, kind of like how a butter knife would be useless in a battle against a Rampaging Syrup Monster from the depths of Carameltopia. This was going to require finesse. The Problem At Hand was trying to ninja her; she had to ninja it right back. Sneak up on it, grab it in her best headlock and hold on until it surrendered. Make it think it really was getting to her -- which it was -- and then… and then…

Push it down the No-Go trapdoor and pretend it never happened? No. She had to use this. Nobody could change the past, but the future… that was fixable. If her various victims didn't make it their missions in life to A - make her time hell or B - take their revenge in slightly more permanent ways, that was.

[Loose reserved for Guy. Limit: 4]

Endrance turned his head to look at the intercom, giving it a look that would wither an entire rose garden in an instant. He would never get used to ending up in his room again from somewhere else in the Institute.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not sitting up just yet. He could tell already that his torso had been heavily bandaged, even more so than it had been the night before. The cuts on his arms were covered with fresh bandages, and the one on his cheek seemed to no longer be there at all.

Endrance had been expecting to wake up in a lot of pain, but even that seemed numbed. "They must have given me something," he murmured quietly, as he slowly sat up.

At that moment, his nurse came to get him, pushing a wheelchair along with her. "Peyton, dear, good morning. I've come to take you to breakfast, so..." He shook his head. "I'm fine. There's no need for that...I can walk perfectly well."

She sighed. Well, if he insisted, she wasn't going to stop him. She motioned for an orderly to take the chair away, and walked him to the cafeteria. Once they had gotten there, she pointed him toward a seat, then set a full tray of pancakes covered with syrup, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Now eat all of that, Peyton, or else you won't be strong enough to keep walking like that."

He glared at her back as she walked away, then stopped suddenly. There was that faint pulse he'd felt the night before...it was exactly the same.

And so he completely ignored his food in favor of staring at the cafeteria doors, looking at every patient that came in.

[thread will be closed to Haseo. ♥]

[from here]

Once the door was open Yue cautiously moved forward, casting about with his light to make certain nothing else was moving within the room before he entered completely. The place looked much the same as it had when he'd visited the week before, though it was clear that this time they were the first ones to visit.

Hopefully that meant that any of the Institute's creatures which might call this room their home hadn't yet been roused to alertness. He'd rather not have a repeat of their encounter the night before, not until they'd managed to better arm themselves, especially not when Touya had yet to recover.

The guardian glanced back over his shoulder at Touya and gestured into the room with his free hand. "I don't know if there's anything worthwhile in here, but it can't hurt to check."

[from here]

Endrance rounded the corner slowly, looking ahead to see if anything was there. He was reminded all too easily of what had happened here the night before - the false Mia attacking, trying to talk her out of it...everything.

He was silent as he stepped forward, fearing that if he said anything immediately, it would come out in something akin to tears.

[from here]

Tony's relief at exiting the claustrophobic confines of the stairwell was short-lived. The level above seemed as sparsely populated as the level below, and while this boded well for his chances of finding anything still worth scavenging for, it also meant any trouble came with slightly higher stakes. This deterred him roughly long enough to sweep the beam of his flashlight cautiously along the hall, peering as far as the light extended. Which still wasn't nearly as far as he wanted to. The lack of any immediate response, or any conspicuous blood stains, were things he decided he could count as good signs.

He hurried down toward the end of the hall, keeping a careful eye out for any motion, and an ear out for ominous chittering.