> Gamzee: Ascend stairs

Whoever had built this hive lacked a certain sense of style. Not that Gamzee was going to judge too much, of course. Everyone was free to build their structures however they wanted. However, if it had been up to him he would have added a little more color.

He followed the girl up the stairs, still marveling at the way things felt in this new body. It was shaped so similarly, and yet everything felt so off. He was also squinting against the circle of light Rose was casting ahead of her up the stairway. It hadn't been so big of a problem in the larger halls before now, but this area was so much more confined. Why was she hindering her ability to see like that? It darkened everything it didn't touch.

Not that it wasn't nice to look at anyway. He'd always had a soft spot for flashing lights. "There a reason for the motherfuckin' glow, sis?"

[> ==>]

"How many players were there in your session?" All indicators -- towers, rings, planets -- had pointed to their session having always been meant as four-player, but that didn't a priori restrict there from being parallel sessions that had now deparallelized into one big mass confusion.

Most of them weren't what she would have, working from a well-trained amateur eye, pegged as successful gamers. Gamzee fit the appropriate demographic like a stained thrift-store t-shirt; poorly, and with glaring flaws, but also thematically poignant.

The adults were a conundrum. Would they, too, launch themselves into the Medium with the blessings of their aged forefathers? It seemed unlikely.

[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]

Dinner was just as unappealing as lunch had been. A plain, tasteless gruel that had the same consistency as okayu without any of the flavor. If it were up to him, he would have flavored the broth, maybe topped it with pickled plum or green onions. He would have preferred salted salmon on top, but that was a luxury now. Worse than the taste was the color, an odd pink color that convinced him more and more that this place had to be somewhere in America. Only America could make such strangely colored food. Although...the taste was more like England's cooking, only less burnt.

When the silence started on the intercom, Japan put down his spoon. And when the silence turned into static, he politely covered his ears, waiting for it to end. This new person didn't seem to believe in the chimes he'd just recently grown accustomed to, but Japan wished he would use them. The static grew unbearable and he pressed his palms harder against his ears until - suddenly - the noise vanished. Shaking his head slightly, he looked up at the speaker and frowned to himself as the man on the other side spoke.

What he had to say sounded ominous indeed.

Even more so when he considered that this wasn't some game, but real life or some strange approximation of it. Japan still wasn't sure what to believe when it came to the Institute. Was it a mental hospital? A military prison? Some weird cosplay LARP where the people were real? He was still hoping for the latter, but every moment he spent here took that one remaining ray of sunlight away from him.

With a heavy heart, Japan got up from his desk and eyed the metal box that he'd found in his room. He had an inkling of what it was as it reminded him of military trunks and so, very cautiously, he crept over and pried the top open. What he saw both took his breath away and caused his blood to run cold. He hadn't seen the uniform since he put it away over 50 years ago and now here it was, pristine as the day he'd first put it on; none of the rips, tears, stains and patches anywhere to be seen. Was this a joke? Was he supposed to put this on? He had no other clothes, but this?

Pushing the lid from the box, he reached in and pulled the uniform jacket out. It was just as he remembered... But he couldn't wear this. It was a symbol of his country in its darkest hour. And yet...

Japan pulled the outfit out and looked at it, frowning. Not now. He folded the pieces back up and was about to put them back into the box when he suddenly changed his mind. Pulling the pillowcase from his bed, he stuffed the clothes in there along with his flashlight. Maybe he could use the fabric for something else. Italy would have made flags out of it, but he made flags out of everything. Perhaps he could use it to carry things. Somehow. Whatever the use, it was something familiar from home and it meant this place knew who he was beyond just "Honda Kiku."

Bowing to his roommate, Japan headed out the doors, not entirely certain where he was going for the night.

[For Prussia]

And there was the evening announcement, timely as always, although he could have done without the noise at the beginning. It was still slightly jarring to not hear those mocking tones that he had grown so accustomed to, but he did prefer the more direct announcements that had been rolling in ever since last evening. No pathetic attempts at creating a dialogue, just threats and orders laid bare for them to analyze and comprehend.

With a sigh, Kratos pushed back his chair and stood up, peeling off the beret and throwing it carelessly onto his desk. Now would be the time where he would change as swiftly as possible and then head out or wait for his teammates for the night to arrive at his door. Tonight, though, would be much different. As he walked over to move his possessions to his desk, his hand passed over the hilt of his sword, and suddenly, he had the urge to drive it into the nearest wall out of frustration. But of course, he couldn't have that; he would run the risk of worsening his injuries...

Perhaps Kenshin wouldn't ask why his roommate was suddenly diverging from his normal routine; perhaps he already understood that sometimes, a night would need to be sacrificed for the sake of recovery. To be honest, it would be a little awkward to start talking now: contrary to yesterday, they hadn't spoken at all over dinner.

Kratos set the metal box gently down on his desk next to his completely clean plate and beret before sitting down cross-legged on his bed, slightly hunched forward, with his fingers laced in front of him. He needed to sleep, but he couldn't - not now. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and let his head fall forward until the bridge of his nose was resting against his hands. If he couldn't sleep, he could at least just sit and enjoy the silence.

[M20; (unknowingly) waiting for Soma and Rapunzel]

[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.]

[From here.]

The route was a well practiced one by now. He'd leave his block and enter the next one down, change in the washrooms, and then stroll on out worry free. No one would know which room Spider-Man slept in. Unless they followed him - which, as far as Peter knew, had not happened yet. He liked to think that even when his spider sense was on the fritz, it liked him enough to at least warn him about that.

You never really knew, though. Peter sighed as he slipped into the lower men's block, looking from left to right with rote caution. Again, nobody here. And again, no tingle in his head. For now, he could take it for granted that that meant there was no danger. If he started getting jumped from behind with no warning, then maybe he'd reconsider that.

Whatever. He had to get hopping. Indy and the rest were waiting on him.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Yep. Still the only one here. He supposed that could be a good thing. That meant there would be less people to notice the teenage boy strolling into the bathroom and the schmuck in tights that came out two minutes later. He was all for less people noticing that.

[To here.]

Talking with friends usually put Anise in a better mood, but the subjects that she, Guy, and Tear covered at lunch were so heavy that Anise couldn't help but feel weighed down afterward. It was hard to think and talk about the terrible things that came about from her lies. She wasn't going to cry, not now, but she felt like she needed a little space.

Fortunately, children were going out to the Courtyard today, and that sounded like a good, wide area where she could get a little alone time. The fresh air could help her mood, too.

When Anise reached the door, however, a blast of cold air rushed in at her, and all she could see outside was a blinding veil of whiteness. For a moment, she simply stared at the sight. She never saw much for snow at Landel's, but here it had already covered everything in just one day!

"You might need this," a soldier said, presenting a black jacket to her. The color and style really didn't suit Anise, but it looked expensive. She slipped it on, and while it wasn't as feminine as she liked her clothes to be, the lining actually had a nice feel to it. On the left breast, she noticed a name embroidered over it. It wasn't her name, but it was still kind of impressive that they personalized these things.

Outside, snow had settled onto every surface, like a big fluffy blanket over the ground. Anise walked along the path for a bit, creating a single set of footprints in the otherwise smooth surface. Once she was a fair distance from the doors, she diverged from the path (which was barely visible to begin with) and walked to the edge of the pond, watching the falling snowflakes disappear into the water.

It was a pretty sight, but it wasn't enough to completely take her mind off of Ion. Before long, Anise found herself wondering if it was snowing where Ion was, too. Maybe he was really far away, though...

[waiting for her boyfriends ♥]

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]

The conversation that Sora had had with Sam had definitely made all of the cleaning far more bearable. It wasn't even that they had talked about anything that groundbreaking, but the man had been kind to him and it had given him something else to focus on. All in all, being forced to clean hadn't been as bad as he'd expected.

And now that it was over, it sounded like it was time to go to the showers. That was for the best, seeing how cleaning actually ended up making you kind of dirty.

More than that, Sora was lucky enough to be one of the first people who was led into the showers. He considered asking the soldier who was escorting him about the pins for his hat, but in the end it made more sense to wait until he was getting dressed again.

Changing out of his clothes, new as they were, wasn't a problem; his own outfit that he wore back home was far more complicated, after all, and so he had the buttons undone and the belt removed in seconds.

After that, Sora quickly moved toward the back of the shower area, turned on the water, waited for it to heat up, and then stepped under the spray. He'd learned some time ago that trying to talk in the showers usually didn't work so well; all the running water was too loud and he was too awkward, even if he'd gotten much better about it over time.

It was still better to just get it over with and then head out into the Sun Room, and so once he was decently clean he turned off the water and headed out to get changed again.

[To here.]

By the end of lunch, Alaric was still hungry and still stuck on the middle of a perfectly balanced scale, the only difference with the scale having a new, possibly unrelated third option: it was either some sort of conspiracy (obviously of the supernatural sort), he was actually crazy, or he’d just had the very bad luck of being kidnapped by radicals. Radical what hadn’t been decided yet, but considering the two years of his life, he was really gunning for the last option. He had already invested in his own insanity, anyway – it was either him or the world that was crazy. The only problem was that the world hadn’t forced him to try to drug a werewolf in order to help the vampire who’d killed him.

Well. C’est la vie.

Except the part where there might not be a lot of life from Jules if that whole “mark” thing turned into what he assumed it was. What could he do now, though? For better or worse, he’d been kidnapped and put into a mental asylum that was trolled by armed guards who thought using tear gas on children was a good idea. The least they could have done was worried about heightened insurance costs or something. The least he could say was that this kind of topped the luck he’d had for a while.

At least he wasn’t the only one getting screwed, if that new intercom message was any indication. Considering he’d only heard two messages from this man – one slightly threatening and now this - it was left up for debate if he was merely incompetent or the world was against him. Maybe someone like Anise was used to this sort of thing, but a newbie just found the words confusing and basically meaningless. From all Alaric could tell it was just another guy getting crap from his boss. Any potential sympathy he could have felt had been nixed by… well, by everything right now. Especially while he was currently stuck in a hotbox.

The weather from the journey from building to greenhouse had been chilly, but the greenhouse itself was hot and humid. Alaric wasn’t new to the idea of humidity since he’d lived most of his life in North Carolina and Virginia, but it wasn’t usually so saturated. Whatever uplifted mood they were hoping for was lost on him; green thumbs didn’t run in his family. Mowing the lawn was kind of the end of the line for him, and even some weekends that hadn’t gotten done back when he’d had a lawn to mow.

Lack of green thumb or not, he was still conscious of the situation. Despite clearly not wanting to be there, he had taken to carefully investigating each plant already cultivated, searching out a particular purple flower that could be pressed and dried – not that he thought vervain would actually be around, but it was a hopeful thought.

[For his convenient alliance partner.]

And thus concluded a perfect start to a perfect day. Making him explode from every facial orifice was a totally justified response to Peter not doing anything at all.

The nurses' hearts had defrosted just enough to permit them a change of clothes and a desperately needed wipe down. Nurse Joyce - Rachel had been apologizing the whole way back to his room through gritted teeth and steely side glares at the soldier stalking behind them. "So sorry, Tyler. Gassing children. I would have never thought it would come to that - but you were good, weren't you? You stayed under the table with your friend the whole time?"

"Flaht lodda gud id did meh," Peter had slurred through a mouthful of spit. He winced and squeezed another quadrillion tears from his eyes as he felt a string of snot drip onto his chin. His whole being ached with embarrassment.

Okay, yes, gassing was a common method for riot control. He knew this. Everyone knew this. But that so did not justify using it on a truckload of mental patients, half of whom couldn't legally drive and seventy five percent of which were currently incapacitated. Making people stumble around and fall on their broken limbs did not equal safe medical practice, no matter how hard they were rioting.

Not to mention getting gassed had totally cut off his conversation with this Gambit fellow. Whom he now had to spend some time sleuthing for, because Peter so did not trust random strangers with the deets on his secret identity. Even if they were friends with Logan. Especially if they were friends with Logan. Plus he had no idea whether or not Gambit existed in his sad, sorry version of the universe, and thus no way to check if he was a good superhero or a bad superhero. AKA super villain.

He sniffled, hand firmly perched under his nose to catch any leaks (or god forbid, more drooling) as he was marched against his will outside. Apparently this was under military orders.

They were going to shoot them, weren't they?

It seemed the purpose was a touch more innocuous than that, even if they were immediately assembled into an execution line. A soldier stepped up with a clipboard, Huge Douche written all over his face, and began calling out names. Peter lost interest and gazed miserably at the men standing guard behind him. They didn't seem to be in attack mode. That was a plus.

"Karmichael, Tyler!"

He wondered if they would stop pushing them outside soon. It was getting colder all the time, he thought with a shiver, rubbing his sling arm gently for warmth.

"Karmichael, Tyler!"

It sure was dismal out today.

"Karmichael, Tyler!!"

Oh right. "Here!!" Peter shouted, embarrassment flushing his face. Then his nose wrinkled with distaste. "Wait, my last name is Karmichael? What? That's a terrible-"

Huge Douche gave him an evil eye. "Answer when you're called for!"

"...Yes sir."

Yeesh.

That over with, Peter hastily consulted with his nurse and convinced her to let him back in the Sun Room. He just wanted to sit on a couch and grumpface at the world today.

[To here.]

[From here.]

He summed up their final destination with one word: "Awesome." Not that the kitchen itself was, but the fact that the map had accurately led them here without one little hitch? He was on his guard when he first walked into the room, but this was nice. No monsters or crazy people with washed brains. No lights popping on. No Shadows. And, hopefully, this means he could live up to his promise.

The kitchen looked almost identical to what he'd seen of the one downstairs, still silver and shiny all over with various pots, pans, and utensils hanging around. There were drawers all over the place, but there weren't any knives laying out in plain sight.

"Guess we'll have to look around," the Nobody concluded, laying his flashlight on a counter so it pointed on the opposite wall's drawers so he could rummage nearly unhindered. He wasn't about to put his pipe down, though.

[From here.]

When the Nobody opened the door, he was really glad he was wearing the dark coat. He hadn't gone to a cold world for a while, but luckily the black leather was comfortable in almost all weather. Even just a crack of the door had sent a gust of frigid wind around the frame of the door way. Once the door had cleared out of his view, he could see it was quite a view - from what he could see through the fog, there was lush grass underneath them and some sort of a dark line boxing the area in. Looked like a wall, maybe The courtyard?

He had to navigate through a maze of plastic white tables to get near the cold ebony iron railing by the edges of the balcony. The area was lit somewhat by the moon, but when he angled the flashlight down it didn't pierce more of the fog than the moonlight did.

It was actually kind of creepy.

Keeping his arms close to his body, he tried to keep all the warmth of his coat close to him. "S-should be warmer inside," his teeth chattered behind him towards Ruby.

[ from here ]

Inside looked about the same as the food service area that was on the first floor near their cafeteria. This, Ruby concluded, must be where the staff ate. She didn't put too much stock in it and instead stepped out of the way of the door, willing it closed and looking relieved once it had shut and the heater kicked back in to drown out the cold air.

"I traced it when it went up, too," she informed with a nod to form some sense of camaraderie between them in that similarity in thought. "Pretty handy to have around when the nights are like this." A beat, then she raised an eyebrow. "Any luck on the recon front?" Considering how excited he appeared to be to finally get the chance to help out, she could only assume that he'd be equally excited to help with the information, as well. Point blank was the best route, make it clear that she was pretty much at ground zero info-wise and willing to learn from whatever he had to offer.

It was weird for Ruby, not being the one with all the intel. In fact, it was downright annoying as hell. Which meant whatever Roxas could provide would be like gold in her currency, because she could carry it back to Sam and Dean with a big ol', proud smile on her face acting like she'd figured it out all on her own.

"I'm telling you, kid, if I could get my hands on the man in charge of this little slice of paradise ... Well, it wouldn't be pretty, I'll tell you that much." She just shook her head. "Not exactly the sunny locale where I was hopin' to put myself out to pasture."

[ from here ]

"So, you grab that off the bulletin board today?" She gave a nod to the map in his hands as they hung a left in the direction of the kitchen based on what explanation he'd given of the second floor's layout. There were a couple doors on their left, and she slowed her pace to investigate them. The hall itself, however, looked like a mirror of every other hallway she'd been in since she arrived in the Institute. Desolate, cold and undecorated.

Still not a single clock to be found. But, they had at least reached an area that could safely be referred to as somewhere that patients weren't allowed to go, which meant they'd either run into something nasty or find something they weren't supposed to -- both would make the night more exciting and teach her a little something about what they were up against, but personally, she was hoping for the latter.

Not that Ruby was so much big on dodging the confrontation, but … well, when it wasn't exactly a necessity for the time being, she could go without seeing what they were dealing with for herself when she'd already gotten Sam's descriptions.

Which, she realized, she should have penciled into her journal while she had the chance. Dammit. Well, there was always bringing it up with him again later and trying to borrow the journal for a night or something similar.

"Do you just use it to go around doing this good deeds thing or do you have some plans all your own outside of helping people get cozy when they first drop in?"

[From here.]

Well... here he was. Ludwig's flashlight played along the empty hallway, and for the first time, he truly felt like he was alone in this place. Up on the second floor, he couldn't even hear the constant hum of activity and movement on the lower floor. In a way, it made sense, given how much distance he'd put between them. But on the other... it was rather eerie. Such absolute silence everywhere, such darkness pressing in from all directions... it was more than a little intimidating. His single flashlight didn't cast much illumination in the cavernous hallway, and the sheer variety of choices was also a reason to pause.

He could proceed straight ahead, or a little to his left to investigate that hallway. Or, he could turn to his right, to where the majority of the Institute still remained. He'd seen the open area on the second floor above the sun room, it was entirely possible that the staff had something useful up there on hand in case the patients got unruly. Or, it was also possible that he could continue going and see what was further on still, beyond the reach of his flashlight beam.

Mm... all of them were good options, and while his methodical nature made him want to go left and work his way right, he also knew that was likely not where the best materials would be for weapons or other such things. So, for now, he paused and contemplated the matter, considering his options carefully. All the while, he remained tense and alert- without weapons, if a monster surprised him, that would be it for him. So he had to be careful, and know when to retreat if an attack was too much for him to handle.

[Waiting for Watson]

[From here.]

Granted, he wasn't in the clear yet. It was on the stairs themselves that the Doctor had suddenly called out to him, though for the moment he seemed to be completely alone. It meant that he was getting better at this, if he was moving through these areas faster than the other patients. That was good to know, as he was used to being able to get places ahead of everyone else. His lack of teleportation was the most obvious loss of power from his perspective.

The main obstacle now was the possibility that something was guarding the chapel once more. He didn't see why it was such a sought-after area, though maybe it was due to the fact that people like him got curious.

That statue might be enough to tempt some people as well, even if it had the signs of some sort of curse or black magic written all over it. There were plenty of people who wouldn't realize that.

Keeping his gaze upward, Castiel started up the stairs.

[For Dean and the Doctor to stumble upon.]