The day'd passed without incident, which had Sanzo already on edge. Goku wasn't here, wasn't trying to avoid him like he'd thought earlier, but actually missing again. Unless the idiot went back to the basement, he thought grimly. There wasn't anyway to find out, short of getting back to the institute, quickly, and tearing the place apart.

He'd found himself back full circle, at the buses.

Night fell, along with a prickling sensation down his neck. He could feel it immediately: something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it either just yet. There wasn't any sign of the other patients being rounded up. No sign of the drivers either; the buses lay silent and dark, the doors open. If that tight schedule was anything to go by, they should've been back at the institute by now.

The monk drew closer. He came to stop at the last bus, then suddenly pressed himself against the side. A low moan rent the air. It sounded sickly, as if the air was pulled up amongst phlegm, against ragged tissue and blood. It was close. Directly behind him.

( Read more... )

Worst Case Scenario: they got stuck in town when night came.

He hated being right.

It started out subtle. Hinamori had barely finished her sentence before he realized that the sunlight had all but died. Things got a little cooler, wisps of grey marking their every breath. Peter turned to the window in horror. A splatter of blood blossomed before his eyes on the glass, welling up from the centre and drying as soon as it was born. Beyond it, the paved street cracked. Half-fleshed hands sprouted from the divide, pulling up even more gruesome bodies behind them.

"GAAAH!!" he shrieked, clutching at his throbbing head. His spider sense was going psycho, harder than it ever had. He tasted blood, leaking in a thin trail from his nose to his lips.

Get up get up get up

He pushed past the sensation, shooting a look up to Hinamori, then to the rest of the store when the floorboards started to creak. The clerks behind the counter didn't look so friendly now.

"Zombies," Peter whispered in disbelief, rising from his chair. "Oh my god, they're all zombies..."

The pain in his head began to fade. He took no solace in that.

The shift was familiar enough, in it's own way, but it came too soon. He wasn't sure if any of the others in the group aside from Stefan had been around long enough to witness this before, but he wanted to reassure them that this was just like the changes the institute underwent at night.

Except it wasn't, this time. Marcus could hear them before he could see them, clawing through the dirt, and paused with his mouth open, losing what he'd been about to say. Then the first hand popped out of the ground, much like the zombified followers of the Banished Pantheon often did. Marcus didn't wait for them to start pulling themselves out of the ground entirely before he spoke, loudly but clearly. "It's time to go. Stefan, Scourge and I will head to the Sheriff's office and secure it, you three get people in Magus Park and down South Street to go there, we'll have it cleared and safe to use as a rallying point. When that fills up we'll take the hardware store," He could hear the moans of the undead off in the distance.

"I suggest you only go halfway down South Street and then go up to Main Street to arm yourselves in the hardware store if you need it, that will also take you past the Sheriff's office so you can drop anyone off. I have extremely good hearing so if you shout loud enough I may be able to hear you if you get in trouble and need reinforcements," Marcus decided it was time to wrap things up when the undead were finally all the way up out of the ground. "Try not to get bogged down in too many fights if you can avoid it. Go!"

He didn't waste any time either, and took off at a brisk but not all-out pace for main street.

The sun was starting to set, and it was with a heavy sigh that Edgeworth stepped out of Twin Pines and out onto the street. The tea had helped, but there was still a sense of worry that he couldn't shake. There was, of course, the entire situation with Franziska, but now both Javert and this new person calling themselves 'Justice' were in the picture. Had it been a bad idea to reveal that room information? Possibly, but as far as he could tell, it had gone unnoticed. There was only one way to find out now.

...and on top of all that, there was Dahlia Hawthorne to worry about. She was high on his list of least favorite people, but so far, he hadn't seen her personally. He tried to push the thought out of his mind as he looked around, but couldn't shake the worry entirely.

[closed to Phoenix and any cute things he may have in tow.]

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]

When the intercom's jingle sounded, there seemed to be some kind of tapping in the background noise, like letters being punched into a keyboard. It stopped and the Head Doctor chuckled.

"Hello, everyone! I'm actually taking a break from paperwork for once – everyone needs some recreational time, you know! – and of course, now we can all look forward to a scrumptious dinner from our cooks. Tonight, herb-seasoned grilled salmon is on the menu, served with buttery mashed potatoes and asparagus. All our regular drinks and vegetarian options are available, and for dessert, we will be serving yellow cake with a whipped cream icing.

"...Well! I can hardly wait to get my own dinner after saying all that. Good bye for now, everyone, and enjoy your delicious food!"

The intercom clicked off.

[ All room threads go in response to this post; please post your character's room number as the subject line of the initial post. (Find all of the newly changed room assignments and shift introductions here.) If you are introducing your character during this shift, you may either choose for them character to wake up before their roommate gets back, or after. ]

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.

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. ♥]

The intercom announcement didn't exactly make Ritsuka feel very safe. It was a blatant reference to Pandora and even if it wasn't, the message was ominous enough to send a chill down anyone's spine. Taking the notice, Ritsuka went over to the door and opened it cautiously. He didn't like the idea of forcing the Clinic on Nataku, but for now, he had to keep it running. At least until Tamaki popped up again or someone else could take care of it.

Ritsuka didn't really know how to prop the notice up and he was a little too short to push it behind the grungy plastic room numbers, but with a little ingenuity, he figured something out. Dragging his chair out into the hall, Ritsuka propped the note up on the seat of it and sighed. He'd edited it a few more times before he actually set it out, but this was probably the best he could do.

Tamaki's been moved somewhere and I don't know where. For now, I'll keep running the Clinic here, but tonight unless I get supplies, we're short on everything. If you need anything, come in.

-R.Aoyagi

Hopefully the healers came so he wouldn't need to worry about having no supplies whatsoever. Heading back into the room, Ritsuka climbed up onto his bed and waited for someone to show up.

It had mainly been another waste of a day, but Itachi had learned some information about the outside area. He had been meaning to give it at least a cursory examination at some point, because while he needed to work on regaining his abilities before attempting anything else, he was not going to rely only on others for that sort of information. He had decided it would be worth at least one night's exploration before he could turn his attention to other matters.

The man he had spoken to earlier -- he should have gotten the name -- had described the area to the southeast, so Itachi decided to explore the more northern area himself for the night. He had heard there were usually enemies in the recreational field and courtyard, and while he would normally not care, he did not want to be slowed down before he even made it over the wall. Therefore, he would go over the wall of the greenhouse yard, which was not too tall and was a direct route to the area he wished to cover.

Map and utility knife in his left pocket, kunai in his right, and flashlight at hand, Itachi set off in the direction of the greenhouse.

[to here]

[M12]

There was this 'Avatar' again, the thing that supposedly linked one's consciousness within this video game. Klavier couldn't quite understand how such a thing could help anyone fight, but he was certain that this connection had something to do with how and why Endrance was taken. If this really wasn't something every player experienced, then there was little doubt others might find such a thing interesting, yes? He still wasn't sure how this all worked, but preserving this connection had to be the point of it all. At least in this particular case.

Any further discussion on this or the strange 'Kira' murders was cut short with the intercom announcement. If one could call it that. Herr Doktor's voice and demeanor changed come nightfall, true, but this was stranger than usual. In fact, he couldn't even be sure if it was the doctor. It was far too raspy to identify either way.

This was getting more bizarre with every evening. First taunting then what may or may not have been snoring... and now this strange dilapidated voice?

"Open the box?" he repeated. What could he possibly mean by that? ...Wait. Was this voice even addressing the patient population? It seemed too specific a thing to say to everyone. Could this be a message for Herr Doktor? Or was this a message for a specific party? Maybe someone had managed to do something recently...

[From here]

Dean stopped long enough to count down the rest of the individual halls. He might not have the fancy college education Sam had, but he was pretty sure he could remember a map without any problems. The layout so far was ten rooms to each hall, and about four halls total, making this block about forty rooms. That meant that the hall he wanted, where M31 was, would be the last one down. Dean kept a good grip on his bowie. He headed down the corridor, turning left at the last hall and headed resolutely toward M31.

[Popping over here]

There wasn't any jingle as the intercom came on; it sounded like the Head Doctor was still having issues with the system, and it also seemed like he was none too pleased about it.

"Well, everyone, I hope that you all had more fun this last shift than I did! Hahahaaa..."

His weak laughter trailed off. His office chair squeaked.

"In any case, as you all probably know already, it's now time for dinner! I'm sure you've all worked up an appetite after all that repairing – er – exercising, so I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that you'll be served generous portions of spaghetti with delicious tomato sauce and, if desired, meatballs. For sides, you'll be having some freshly baked garlic bread and, if requested, a Caesar salad. Our regular drinks are available, and for dessert, we'll be serving some delicious strawberry gelato.

"And, now, I suppose it's time we get back to this wiri–"

The announcement cut off abruptly.

Most days, fish and chips (and a cold beer or three) was pretty goddamned high on S.T.'s list of perfect expense-account lunches. Today, the idea of picking at greasy hunks of unidentified bottom-feeder odds-and-ends (politely known as scrod, to the delight of teenagers all across the Northeast) didn't appeal.

He begged off and collapsed into his bed, after using his damp shirt as an excuse to surreptiously check the contents of his closet. Bingo. His nurse watched his little show, unimpressed but (more importantly) unsuspicious. Not that his hairy chest was much of a catch today, pale and sweating from fever. At least she didn't tuck him in.

The intercom woke up up right on schedule, and pulling the sheets back over his head almost won. But a handful of unanswered missives and a vague sense of duty dragged him out to the bulletin, and from there it was easier to stagger over to the greenhouse.

It was warm inside -- a deep, humid warmth that actually penetrated to the aches in more joints and muscles than he could remember the names of. Like a sauna, without the hassle of finding someplace to look that wasn't a mound of pasty middle-management cellulite. Or a sweat lodge, without the opposite hassle of being conscious that he was the only white guy in the room. In fact, besides the nurses in holding patterns, he was the only person in the room.

He located a tray of tomato seedlings going rootbound in their tiny six-packs, and a potting bench whose location was a quick-and-dirty approximation of equidistantly far from anything blooming. He assured his nurse he knew what he was doing, and after a couple of successful repottings, gently sliding the little seedlings out and loosening the tangled roots, she seemed to agree and backed off. It was, by far, the most fucking theraputic thing he'd found in this hellhole so far, and he let himself sink into the rhythm of the task.

[Free!]

*hobble wobble*

"Damn that SCOURGE!" Starscream cried out, the slowly-filling cafeteria producing a jarring echo of his raspy voice. His limping, already bad enough from not knowing how to properly use his crutches, was now exacerbated from the injuries he'd received the shift prior. Despite the gauges in his non-casted leg so lovingly provided by the aforementioned 'patient', Starscream could still put some weight on it, but not so much that he could really stop and rest; relieving the soreness under his arms was out of the question. The nurse that walked behind him with his tray, already upset at having to deal with yet another troublesome inmate, was growing rather impatient as his charge slowly made his way down the food line.

"Just...give me a standard serving of the aquatic creature's flesh, some of those fried potato slices, two bananas, and three bottles of juice," Starscream sighed, his anger from just a moment ago assuaged by the physical exertion needed to move the way he did. "I'm going to sit down here...bring it to me when you're done."

He was hardly surprised to find that one of the bananas was completely bruised along its inner curve, or that the handful of 'chips' on his plate were all on the small side. Tired and frustrated as he was, however, he could barely muster a 'damned flesh-creature' before moving his fingers to the plate, picking one of the longer 'chips' and shoving it into his mouth listlessly.

There was an unusually high concentration of sodium chloride crystals on it. Of COURSE.

[For Tony Stark]

Kio's breakfast ended on a much happier note than it had started. However, for once the announcement truly surprised him. He blinked as his nurse came to pick him up. Recreational Field? But.. but if they had a greenhouse, he wanted to go there. The prospect of gardening was a truly liberating one, an island of joy in this hellhole. He thought about going to the Sun Room and lying down, but it occurred to him that he hadn't had proper fresh air since being here. With a cheery goodbye wave to Honey, he followed his torturer outside.

It was much better than he had expected. The sun wasn't too hot (what time of the year were they in, anyway?), so he walked slowly along the walls, fascinated by the size of the field. He wondered if Sou-chan was alright. He hadn't even checked the board. Well, if Soubi wanted to apologize, Kio would be willing to listen. The place was so crisp and clean. He had to think if anyone had ever gone over the walls. What was out there? Freedom? Or a different sort of monster?

Leaning against one of the walls, Kio took as much advantage of the sun as he could. He desperately wanted a lollipop. One was quietly nestled in his pocket, but he would need to wait until the nurses were busy with other patients before he tried anything. Soubi had gone to some trouble to get them, the least he could do was make sure they didn't get confiscated. So with bated breath, Kio waited for a shift in the mood. He was, for once, content. Not happy, but not going crazy either.

[Sou-chan! Team Loveless deploy!]

Utena's second night seemed to have ended even sooner than the first had, which greatly disappointed her. She had been hoping that at some point, she could have coaxed her friend into telling her what was so horrible that happened in her future. Then again, curiosity aside, she was also somewhat relieved that she didn't have to hear it just yet. She half-wondered if Landel had ended both of their previous nights early on purpose, too, just to make certain that Utena didn't spend enough time with her friend to potentially hear of that future.

Almost as soon as she thought of Landel, Utena heard his voice crackle over the intercom again. Hearing him yawn through his announcement almost made her sleepy as well; she'd had no idea that yawns could be contagious over speaker systems. Physically, she did feel rested, though she certainly couldn't remember sleeping or dreaming between the end of night and her waking up.

As her nurse came to collect her for breakfast, Utena felt conflicted over whether she ought to see Himemiya again that night. On the one hand, she wanted to be there for her friend and try to coax some of the girl's old self out of her. Either that or at least try to console her about whatever was troubling her. On the other hand, she knew that it would be stupid to waste too many nights on talk. She could be helping Seiya or the clubs or finding metal to store for whenever Skuld was ready for her, something that would help her and Himemiya break out faster.

Maybe I'll post a message for her later if I don't see her again during the day. It's not perfect, but at least it'll let us talk and then leave me an opening to go out and do . . . whatever it is that might need doing, she thought as she was escorted into the cafeteria to pick up breakfast (english muffins that morning). Remembering the clubs again, Utena thought about the message exchange she had had with that girl from Arts & Crafts, Momo Hinamori. They were supposed to be meeting over breakfast, right? Utena didn't see anyone who matched Hinamori's description yet, but then, the girl had said that it would be easier for her to find Utena than the other way around. She sat down at a nearby table for the time being and waited, running the previous night's short conversation in her head over and over.

[For Momo]