[from here]

It was a small box of a room, dark, smelling of wood and gasoline. There wasn't much space to walk. Her light hit more objects than it did walls, and more large contraptions than floor. Her blood and snow-crusted boots made wet prints on the wooden floor. Not much moonlight chased them inside, but enough reflected off the snow to give the place shape to navigate. As was to be expected, she did not recognize the great majority of what lay here.

The girl looked over her shoulder to her companion. "Do you know what this is?" she asked, the beam of her light indicating everything more than any one object.

[ from here ]

Sesshoumaru had judged, from the trees and bushes and outdoor benches, covered in snow, that the snow was not intolerably deep, and that he would not be attempting to jump onto a sheet of ice covered in snow. Happily, both assumptions appeared to be correct - the ice covered snow, burying various plants and dirt, was the only thing waiting when he staggered upon jumping the rail.

The view from the courtyard was much the same as the view from the patio, if understandably more restricted in scope. On the very positive side, the movement had distanced him from the scent of blood.

His head was pounding, he was trembling from some combination of cold and exhaustion, and the sharp pain in his side had been thrown into relief once more by the impact of his landing.

Irrelevant. It was irrelevant.

[ from here ]

It was large, for what was admittedly a small room, and full of the scent of grains and spices and fruits and, for some reason, metal. Sesshoumaru turned his head as though looking around almost reflexively, before he could properly see anything. But the room was dark, and for now there was little but the dim outline of what were probably shelves that even he could see.

Once again, he retrieved his flashlight and flicked it on- and found himself surrounded by bags and bottles, odd metal cylinders with paper labels displaying produce, boxes with more pictures of things he hadn't seen before. There was a ladder allowing one to reach the top shelves, which were filled with more of what Sesshoumaru assumed were foodstuffs, or something related. He was nearly positive that humans could no more eat metal than he could, and the cylinders did have other scents hidden under the metallic tang.

His head was beginning to ache, and reluctantly Sesshoumaru allowed his focus to relax, and relied on sight.

He was hungry - he had been denied one meal that day, and refused to eat the other two that had been offered - but was not sure he wished to try anything like this.

[ from here ]

At first glance, there seemed little different in this room than there had been in the last one, especially in the dim light cast through the open door, and Sesshoumaru nearly growled in frustration. He felt weak, he felt drained, and if had all been for nothing once again....

But, he saw a moment later, this room was different. It remained to be seen if there was anything useful in the drawers and cupboards that lined the surfaces, but perhaps. After all, the area still smelled of the food that had apparently been prepared here - when he focused the light headache he was beginning to carry began to intensify, but he could nonetheless smell raw ingredients that had been used here - meat, eggs, spices.

Perhaps there would be something useful here after all.

[ from here ]

The rush of air that came with the opening door was not cold enough to be called biting, but was certainly cold enough to be a shock. Sesshoumaru's eyes widened in surprise at the smell of it - it smelled like the wind and snow, clean and cold and stripped of the harsh chemical scent that pervaded the facility so completely that the very smell of it had started to fade. He blinked before moving forwards again, out of the doorway, and into the moonlight.

The world was white.

Sesshoumaru's eyes flicked over the snow, which shone eerily in the moonlight. The muted light reflected dimly off of the white blanket, a few ice crystals that reflected the light a bit more strongly fading in and out of shadow, as clouds passed over the moon.

It was full tonight, or nearly full, Sesshoumaru reflected absently as he looked at it. The symbol of his house. And here, in the moonlit snow, he finally looked as though he might belong. The paleness of his skin, the silver blue cast of his hair - he seemed to be a creature of coldness, of the night. A few moments later he looked back down, taking in the scene. There were trees and what appeared to be benches covered lightly in snow, a small shed, a path that had been kept slightly clearer than the rest of the immediate landscape. And surrounding the grounds, there was a wall.

At last he turned his attention to the balcony that they were standing on. There were pathetic looking tables and chairs, poles coated in fabric raising high above them - some kind of umbrella, perhaps, as the fabric did seem designed to fold out, and Sesshoumaru could think of little else that it might be. There seemed little else in this place, between the rail and the wall - though the walls did hold two new doors.

He wondered where they might lead.

[from here]

While the door was still open, enough moonlight permeated the small area as to make a few things clear very quickly. For one, it was incredibly clean -- which said little, she thought. Most areas she'd seen had been some variation of sterile and spotless. Two, it was otherwise dark. Three, there was only one other door -- obviously the next destination. This area didn't look particularly promising. It looked like a somewhat smaller version of where she'd gotten her two out-of-room meals that day. Colors were hard to determine, washed out by moonlight, but aside from some dishes, some counters, other odds and ends...

Maybe coming to the second floor had been a mistake. For everything they'd checked so far, nothing had given the girl any sort of answer -- what this place was, why she was here, what had happened to her memory... just books she couldn't understand , and an outdoors she wasn't sure she recognized. Other than that, nothing.

And Edgar had made it sound like it was dangerous.

The flashlight hung loose from her hand, and she turned to look over her shoulder when her companion followed. As uneventful as the journey had been, they still needed to stick together. No, she thought; she preferred being with someone who knew what things were when they encountered them, even if he didn't fully understand them. She'd probably still be trying to find something useful in the library now, if she'd come alone -- if she'd managed to get into the room in the first place.

[ from here ]

The handle to the room was loose in his hand, turning easily. Sesshoumaru was not relieved, but perhaps he was a little grateful that he would not be called upon to break another lock quite so quickly. He flexed his hand as he let go of the handle after twisting it - his hand and arm still had something of that loose, unfamiliar feeling that came of overexertion.

He quietly stepped halfway through the doorway into the pitch black room, pursing his lips a little in annoyance. Out, once again, came the flashlight, and swept across the room - and, after another moment for his eyes to adjust once again to the brilliance, what he saw was thoroughly unexciting.

Red and white tile stretched in front of him, like blood on paper. Red counters. Basins with their pipes, metal containers for the scraps of paper provided and intended to dry. Shadows cast by the partitions separating a potion of the room into stalls. All in all, it was a very similar sight to the... bathrooms (he still could not see the logic in calling them such; he hadn't seen a bath yet) that he had seen downstairs.

After a few more seconds of examining the room, he swept his flashlight across the walls one last time, then turned and left.

[ to here ]

[ from here]

It was a library. Sesshoumaru blinked in slight surprise, his eyes flicking around to take in that which could be seen, in the scant light cast into the room. Books and papers, leather covered plush chairs, the same high-standing tables as the rest of the institute was populated with, a dark carpet stretching out across the floor. The sheer number was slightly surprising, as it spoke of wealth - though perhaps that was also to be expected. Powerful parties had obviously been involved, to hold him even for a night and a day. And to drain him as they had done....

Nonetheless, the room was unexpected - and seemed to suggest that he had been right to think that the second floor was reserved for those in some position of power.

[ from here ]

The hallway in front of them did not seem much different from those downstairs, or the one which he had followed last night - there were more doors, in different locations, but the corridor itself had no real identifying characteristics, nothing that marked it as different from any other place in this facility. Sesshoumaru was growing thoroughly sick of the sight of blank white walls, the stinging scent of the disinfectant, the artificially smooth everything.

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly in frustration, but he was working to find his way back to freedom, which was all that mattered for now.

The first doorknob, as with last night, smelled of rust and seemed weak, breakable. And so he broke it, as he had last night. Poison dripped along the weak metal, aiding in the corrosion - though not like it might once have. He paused for a moment, clenching his fist to keep his hand from shaking with the effort that it had cost him, and then pushed the door open.

[from here]

Snow reached the top of the stairs within moments. This was the part where he was supposed to start raising hell and kicking in doors. If he had still been as infuriated as he had been when first leaving his room, he probably would have done that immediately. Right now, there was a slight delay. Maybe it was just an after effect of... the thing he wasn't thinking about, but he found himself being slightly more self-conscious right now. Or at least a little more aware of his surroundings.

There were two generally irrelevant issues at hand here. One was that the upstairs split off in several different directions, and he'd have to pick one first before he got started. That one didn't much matter since he was probably going to be searching every place possible anyway, so who cared which way he started from? And two was that he was pretty damn sure there were guards patrolling the upstairs. This is where they kept things hidden, right? So there had to be guards. Right now, he was kinda hoping there were. He could really, really use the catharsis.

...Though maybe he should be trying to get some information out of whatever guards he found rather than using them as punching bags, but meh.

So Snow only took a few steps away from the stairs before stopping entirely, crouched forward slightly and ready for an attack. He was listening for the sounds of footsteps or conversation. Something that indicated where soldiers might be wandering around.

Come on. He knows you're there. Don't hide. Bring it on. He wanted it. Just give him one damn excuse.

[Nataliaaa]

[from here]

The confusion had fizzled out his anger momentarily. But that didn't make him any less determined to press forward. If anything, Snow was treating it like a random lapse of concentration and was plenty ready to forget about it. Which was pretty damn easy once he got himself focused on a particular subject.

He ran up the stairs (the completely pitch black stairs) with a renewed fervor, taking them two at a time as he went along. How he didn't miss, trip, fall, and break his neck was anyone's guess. Call it the power of love. Call it the power of a hero's heart.

...Or call it the power of idiot luck. Whichever.

[to here]

[ from here ]

Sesshoumaru had not been in the building for nearly long enough to really know it, and his knowledge had not been expanded yesterday as it might otherwise have been, because of the poisons that had been fed into his system - poisons that somehow worked, which had been a disconcerting and unpleasant experience. In the end, though, all it meant was that he had one more person to kill - whoever it was who had invented the poison capable of subduing him.

He either avoided or ignored the memory of last night, of Niikura telling him he might as well be a human now. Avoided thinking of how weak he had become.

Sesshoumaru absently flexed his fingers, and felt his poison began to pump. If he was not still immune to toxins, surely his own venom would burn him, sear his veins and his hands, but it did not appear to have any more affect on him than it had ever. Just like always, the poison might as well have been blood, or water, for all the harm it did to him personally. This was not a double-edged sword. It was designed to harm others, not the wielder.

A thread of sweetness curled through the bite of the cleaner as Sesshoumaru stood for a moment, his claws becoming saturated with their natural poison. In any case, claiming that he was - that he could be - so weak as that was ridiculous. He was Sesshoumaru.

[ for Terra ]

((From here.))

As he stealthily moved through the hall, Spock noted that it was quiet and dark. He didn't detect other patients, nor any hostile lifeforms. Perhaps the rest of the way leading to Dr. McCoy's quarters was in a similar state.

Regardless, it was best to move as quickly as possible. The early portions of the shift tended to be the quietest, which meant Spock needed to take advantage of the still hallways while he could. He hadn't forgotten about the military's cryptic message, or the unusual silence toward the end of their meal period. It was possible something would interrupt their plans later, which made time of the essence. If they were caught in the middle of a meld, the results could be disastrous.

Walking at a brisk pace, Spock allowed his light to illuminate his immediate path and continued ahead.

((To here.))

[M4]

Sesshoumaru had been slowly coming back to himself throughout the day, and upon being escorted to his room had felt almost normal. He was unsure if it was lingering drugs in his system, or the weakness that this place imposed on him dragging at his bones (or perhaps some combination of the two) that was causing his remaining lethargy, but the cause did not seem terribly important, not with other things left to contend with. Either way, he had been left weak.

There wasn't warning when the lights flicked off and the door clicked with the sound of a lock being unlached, but he did not know this was unusual. Instead he stood still for a moment, his pupils growing huge and dark in his eyes as they tried to compensate for the sudden darkness, and then looked in the direction of the door. Eyes narrowing slightly, he retrieved the... flashlight, Niikura had named it, from beneath the pathetic pillow on his pathetic bed and went to the door, opening it.

The hallway outside was dark, but the night felt cleaner than the day, somehow - perhaps because he was once again slightly stronger - and Sesshoumaru did not hesitate before leaving the room and walking into the further stretch of darkness. Now that he knew a little more of this place, he had more to discover. And, of course, he still had people to kill.

[ to here ]

[From here.]

He set off, a little man with a toothpick and a flashlight, past his room's hallway and into the adjoining one. To be frank, he hadn't really cared where Castiel was cooped up before. Of course the lack of knowledge was going to bite him in the ass. Big surprise there. While he didn't intend to stand in the hallway all night, leaning next to the bathroom door, he could stay long enough to make sure Michael wasn't going to pass by on an innocent route to exploration.

Besides, he was probably having a hard enough time dealing with the fact that the doors unlocked when night hit. It was too bad he wasn't going to have a fun power-trip via intercom to contend with in his logical, human mind as well. That would've been amusing.

By the time that breakfast had ended, Michael didn't really know what to think.

The good part of him -- the part that went to church every Sunday and prayed that he could find justice for his clients -- wanted to feel for those two boys. They were going through Hell (and not the literal kind that they were thinking of) and he really did hold out hope that they would get their acts together. But the rest of him wanted to forget all about them and focus on himself. They weren't his responsibility anymore, now that the case had been dropped. The very idea of a killer had been a fantasy, after all. It wasn't his job to worry about them.

He certainly wasn't some guardian angel, either. He had never signed up for that and he had no idea why his mind had decided that was the case. Figuring that out was probably his key to getting healthy again, but it seemed like an uphill journey at this point.

Either way, it was good to get away from Matt and Eric. He needed some breathing room, some time to just let his mind clear out all of that crazy angel and demon stuff. Being religious was one thing; this was another, and he knew it wasn't right. He tried not to think about what his parents probably thought of him, but for all he knew they weren't even aware that he was here. In fact, Michael couldn't even remember who had admitted him. It was possible he'd just brought himself here.

A shower sounded like a real blessing, though, and he didn't hesitate to strip out of the uniform and find shelter under the hot spray of one of the shower heads. It was definitely more than just washing off; it felt like a cleansing experience, like he was scrubbing the very idea of Castiel out of his skin. He knew it wasn't that easy, that he could relapse at any point, and yet he tried anyway.

However, once he'd washed his body and shampooed his hair, he realized that he needed to give up the shower space for someone else who might need it. As much as he would have liked to spend the entire shift there, he did the right thing and went back to get dressed once he was finished, heading out into the Sun Room on a soldier's heels.

[To here.]

Dawn broke with the hustle and bustle of staff, uniformed men and women moving to and fro to wake patients from their slumber. Those who managed to slip through their watchful eyes and gain an extra minute or two of shuteye were soon rudely awakened by a rather enthusiastic man with a Western accent.

"Riiiise and shine, Landel's Institute!" the man chirped over the intercom. The tone was almost disgustingly cheerful. "Major Harrington here with your welcome call! All soldiers are to report to the cafeteria for their morning meal. We ask that you be prompt! Loiterers may find themselves without food for the day.

"Also," he continued, the word an afterthought, "we will be offering several opportunities for rewards later in the day. Keep your eye on the bulletin board if you're interested."

The intercom clicked off.

[ As a reminder, Day 58 is a normal military day. NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS are free to reply to this with their introduction post. Please have your character wake up in a random room if we have not yet assigned them. Thank you! ]

[from here]

Niikura edged around the corner into the corridor proper, heart suddenly beating faster than ever. And yet there was no one. The hall was a little eerie in that way...but honestly, what had he been expecting to see? Writhing bodies? A mini boss? In some ways, just seeing nothing was worse, because now he'd hit a dead end.

He tried the nearest door. It was locked, as he'd expected, but he could tell that this one wouldn't be as easy of a job as the one just outside. They were probably stuck in here. So where the hell was Mike...?

"Hey, think ya could break that one too?" he asked softly, glancing back at Sesshoumaru and nodding in the direction of the first door. It was a long shot- good luck didn't always strike twice- but Sesshoumaru wasn't a normal person, so maybe...

[from here]

As they made a left into the next hallway, Niikura thought back to the map of the Institute that he'd committed to memory. The hall they were looking for, the one that would hopefully take them to where Mike was being held- it was somewhere on his left. The problem was that this hall was huge, and he didn't even know how many doors he'd find. Two or three...his memory was kind of foggy on that one.

Taking a wild stab in the dark (literally, in some ways), he turned aside at the first door that his flashlight illuminated. Maybe it was already open; that would make things so much easier--nope, locked.

Niikura growled under his breath as he inspected for the lock. It looked weak; it could probably be broken if he hit it with enough force. For a moment, he entertained the idea of smashing it with his flashlight. That would probably do it, but his flashlight was still his most powerful weapon, as strange as it was to admit that, and it had already taken a beating from that one particular bat-filled night. If it broke (and it probably would), he'd be down a weapon and a light: not ideal at all.

With a sigh, he pulled one of the pens from his pocket and popped the cap off before squatting down so that his eyes were level with the lock and holding the flashlight in between his knees. He could pick it...maybe. He'd never picked a lock with a pen cap before, but theoretically, it could work.

[From here.]

Was it just him, or was it a ghost town up here? Not literally, hopefully, but the point still stood. Peter didn't hear any voices in the distance and didn't spot any stray flashlight beams in any direction.

Maybe that wasn't so shocking, though. With Landel's announcement the night before about the basement and then Aguilar's one tonight about the medical wing, there were a lot of other interesting places to explore. Still, Peter would have at least expected to see someone like Ritsuka or Javert heading up this way.

If he and Firo were the only people on rescue duty tonight, then that just meant that they were going to have to move even faster.

Glancing over his shoulder at the younger man, Peter gestured to the left. "It's off to this end," he explained before starting in that direction.