The grocery store had turned out to be useless in terms of tools, but at least it hadn't been boring. After leaving, he'd made a brief stop at Tasty Burger to use his coupon on lunch and contemplate his next move.

In terms of something he could use, Izaya supposed he should have gone to the hardware store... He could always save that for later, as a last resort if nowhere else had anything that looked particularly interesting. But where, then, should he check first...?

Izaya finally decided on the electronics store, even though the trip would most likely be in vain—aside from replacement parts, there was little he could afford with his limited funds. However, the chance of finding something useful wasn't zero, and checking the store wouldn't take all afternoon...

He made his way down Main Street to T&M Electronics, barely glancing at the televisions in the display window as he entered the store. Maybe there would be something used for sale that was in his price range...

[Snow]

After extricating himself from Harvey's company, Peter found himself at an utter loss for what to do. He drifted away from the park (too cold for that), munching on his breakfast muffin and searching out some place where $15 might be useful. The coupon pack was about as helpful as it had ever been. He wandered past Pearl's Prettification Parlour, took a long look at the matching coupon, and kept on walking.

Nope.

He was having trouble deciding what to do at all, actually. With his breakfast soon gone, he wasn't in the mood for food. That cut out the restaurants. And the grocer. And he didn't particularly like the idea of staying outside. Not just for the cold, but...memories took longer to fade than he'd like. Injured as he was and paranoid as ever, Peter could almost feel the rotten bodies pressing in from every side. And Harry had been right over there.

Peter paused, staring at the pristine walls and streets covered in snow. It had only been two weeks. Shouldn't there still be some sign that it happened at all?

Standing around digging at old wounds would help no one today. He had money, and he should make use of it. Yet the rest of the fare in Doyleton was a little kitschy for his liking, so he kept on walking, hoping to strike gold or have miraculously missed a store on his last few trips in. In the span of ten minutes, he'd already hit the other side of town.

What was this magic. How could anyone survive in a hamlet like this? They didn't even have a proper hot dog stand. Were really those so hard to get? God, he missed New York. If Peter had fifteen dollars and was in New York right now, that money would have vanished lickety split. Here, the pickings were so slim he was actually contemplating screwing it all and buying himself a pack of Cheetos and a coke. If they even sold that.

Maybe he'd overlooked something. Didn't think a possibility through. Peter turned right around and started trekking back the way he came, scanning each shop front with great care and quietly wondering if they could ever take a field trip to somewhere worthwhile.

[FOR SAKURA HARUNO.]

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]

[ from here ]

It took her a moment when she turned down the men's hallway to skim the area with her flashlight. This was the part where she got confused, the muscle memory not really carrying her the whole way. He'd given her directions once, but that felt like a lifetime ago now that she actually needed to put them into practice without Bella attached to her hip. Being alone made it harder, for some reason. She hoped Bella was having more luck than she was at getting to … wherever.

On her left, the single door of the bathroom that she suspected was the same as the women's facilities, and on her right four hallways. Peter's was … she scrutinized. Second in from the door? It sounded about right. If her room was F34 and it was the closest to the door, 24 should be one row further in. So, she hung a right and headed down the hallway.

Her flashlight beam checked the numbers on the doors as she headed down. 30 … 29 … the numbers were counting downwards, which was a good sign that this was the right hallway to get her to M24.

[ bumping into sylar peter ]

[From here.]

The big connecting corridor. He may be in a rush, but this hallway deserved extra caution. What would he do if he tried to get to Stefan and ended up mauled on the way there? The first night when he'd smelled blood here, it was still a bit... haunting. It meant there was a chance of something lurking, dragon or not.

Dammit, he was trying to reminisce again. Less thinking, more walking (which, as things went, was actually a feat for a vampire. It came with the whole multi-tasking thing.)

Sweeping his light through the length of the corridor, Edward inspected every bit of wall the light touched, eyes darting like a bird's for any sign of movement. Still no patients. At least the stillness would make it easy to see any potential ambush. At least, that's what he was going to tell himself.

[To here.]

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.]

For once, HK was working very hard to hide a giddy facial expression as he met his nurse at the door. He'd already hidden his scalpels in his clothing. The wonderful, sharp implements of doom would be needed today. “Statement: Despite my reticence towards all processed meat and plant products, I am experiencing intolerable levels of hunger,” he informed his nurse. “I require an especially large meal.”

It was the easiest and best excuse to load his food tray with several of these 'inglish muffin sandwiches', and two glasses of white milk. He then found a table strategically located in the center of the refueling area, and waited. He needed the room as full as possible before the Evil Plan could begin.

[Free, but planning doom upon all.]

With sigh that toed the ambiguous no-mans-land between soft and explosive, Yuffie collected a plateful of waffles with all the toppings. She was sure that, if nothing else, it'd making a pretty satisfying splat if—when?—she launched it at somebody's face, and that was all that counted.

"Hanna, isn't that a little much?" Plucky asked, doubtfully.

"Uhhm. No. About, like... a little while ago, I managed five caramel apple pies with ice cream and berries and, y'know, I think there was a gallon of soda involved at some point." It wasn't the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. There really had been five caramel apple pies, but Cloud had ended up wearing two and a half and the third had taken a vacation to Boobsville (Tifa had loved it. Really. Really). The moral of the story (as she'd told Marlene and Denzel later) was that anything was game, just as long as you could run fast enough afterwards.

The nurse nodded slowly. "I… suppose. Well, I'll leave you to it. See that you behave, won't you, dear? You need to set a good example for the new batch of patients."

"My examples are the best examples," Yuffie proclaimed, with the dark-bright grin that still came so easily, no matter how little she felt really felt it. It lingered even when the nurse had flitted off to deal with another charge, but there was an edge to it. What the edge was, Yuffie couldn't say. Didn't want to say, after what'd gone down last night. Nah, she had better things to do; things like sitting down and waiting, just waiting, for Cloud or some other sucker of an easy target to walk through the door.

[HARLEY HARTWELL o/]

[M22]

The History Club was a temporary solution, Zevran reassured himself.

Loyalty had never been one of his strongest traits, he had been told on multiple occasions. He already had countless betrayals under his belt, and guessed that there would be many more to come in his lifetime. They varied in significance, and Zevran typically didn't count the small ones. The small ones meaning those where he had planned to turn on the person from the very first moment he smiled at them. All of them were marks, plenty of which were quick enough to take him to bed, and that tended to fog their judgment. They didn't consider Zevran to be anything more than a silly, easy elf, and they assigned him with whichever imagined motivations suited them. Lust, greed, desperation, but rarely murder. Zevran would readily take advantage, and felt no guilt afterward. It was simply a means to an end. His own personal strategy, if you will. All killers and warriors had their own way of handling what they must. At the end of the day, death was a business, and not just for an assassin. If you wanted to survive, you needed to kill or accept those that did the killing for you. Speaking of killing, Zevran gathered his meager supplies, and hoped they would do the trick. He needed better armaments if he expected to come out of this alive. If the Maker was merciful, then Asuka and Agatha would be able to take care of themselves.

Zevran had met too many people willing to judge those who dealt in death. He could almost understand why they gave him those judging looks, but only if he took into account their assumption that he was paid handsomely for each dead soul. It was not strictly true, of course, but he would never lie and say he hadn't benefited, or even enjoyed it. But it all blurred together with time.

The betrayals that stayed with him had sometimes involved death, other times not. He regretted some and cherished others, even if they had amounted to nothing. He didn't wish to think of leaving the Crows as a pointless event, but then he had ended up here, where everything was made pointless. He knew nothing of where he was, he was apparently alone, and his surroundings were dizzily unfamiliar. Zevran was becoming convinced that he was the lone elf.

And yet still, he felt discomfort signing up with another entity, having not even had the chance to properly turn on Amell and cause him great danger and turmoil. It was bitter humor that made him think he ought to have at least quit the warden's company more memorably if he were to never return. But now that he thought about it, seducing him and then disappearing come morning was rather dramatic, in and of itself. Perhaps Zevran would not be so easily forgotten after all. He hadn't hoped for anything else from the tryst, but there was something to be said for the man's company...

And that was why he was letting someone else hold his leash, Zevran supposed. If all he wanted was to run, then there seemed to be no further place than this. But Zevran had to acknowledge that what he truly desired the shabby sort of freedom he had found previously, and then been ripped away from. It would be so much easier to call it a wash and see about running off into the woods (for all it was worth), but no. He had to make things difficult for himself. He really should have thought about how difficult this would be before he decided to let himself get comfortable back home. Zevran would need to be more careful in the future, and control his weakness for pretty faces and aching sincerity.

[To here.]

[From here]

"Hmmm..." Goku walked down the hallway with short steps, stubby arms crossed over his chest, as he wandered down the dismally dark corridor that seemed to just continue on forever. This was where he had met Spock last night, but he couldn't really sense anyone else in the hall with him. He took another sniff, but decided to just keep searching elsewhere for a companion for the night. The monkey boy had seen plenty his first night in the institute a few hallways away. That would be the best place to start looking.

With a destination in mind, Goku quickly jogged down the hall and opened to door ahead of him.

[To here]

No. Not even that ever-so-charming red-headed girl wasn't able to take his mind from memories dragged to the surface. It wasn't so much of a surprise--those things, that girl, had occupied his mind for a long period of time. Where every waking thought, after reaching over to find his twin's mind on her, became an undulating hatred of her presence. And so being reminded of that again had become simple. He had hated that girl. And there was nothing more clear than that fact. Nothing.

Even still. Stepping into the empty shower room was almost a shock. Every one since he had arrived here had been shared with one sibling or the other. The absence of both-- Though both should already have been recognized. Was he still looking for Rubedo, out of habit, when Albedo knew, knew in the way that his heart was beating solitary yet again that his twin was no longer here? How absolutely pitiful he was. With no wanting to stay, Albedo hurriedly washed to the nurse's specifications, then moved to leave. To come nearly face to face with the baby. Blanks looks and shifted eyes seemed the norm, and even as Albedo didn't move to break the pattern, something burned within his chest.

Something close to hate; something touching on despair.

[to here]

O.K., what had made it back with him. Pipe, flashlight, toolbox? All present and accounted for. The kit had a few new dents in it, courtesy of one exploding lab bench, but the hinges still open and shut. He didn't need it tonight. A bottle of mixed pharmaceuticals extracted from it was enough in case something tried to eat them or Scarecrow's brain gizmo went haywire. Then the rest of his crap. The radio he tied to a belt-loop with the duct tape that had secured it to the toolbox. It swung like an construction worker's hammer holster, but it held. That completed the stylish anarchist's ensemble.

Right. One secret decoder ring that would teleport him to what, a pantry? If he believed the Head Bastard in the first place. Which he mostly did. There had to be a catch, but it would work as advertised. Maybe summon a stack of mutated Gila monsters to go with the overtrusting consumer. Still, he wrapped it in a bit of ex-T-shirt and stuffed it in his pocket.

Time to go set up for movie night. Maybe the damn ring would come in handy. Popcorn was a requirement if he couldn't manage beer and/or nitrous on short notice. Or pizza. 1-800-Dial-A-Zombie. Don't order anything with meat on it -- keeps it obvious if the delivery boy sheds on the merchandise.

[to here]

[from here]

It looked like the hallway opened up over here. Guess he couldn't expect to just run around and follow a linear corridor forever, but now he had to figure out which way he wanted to go. Normally, he'd just run down whatever hallway he happened to lay eye on first, but again, he was running a liiittle blind here.

He still wasn't seeing any people anywhere. Maybe everyone was hiding. If everyone knew the staff turned into monsters and tried to eat them, then it'd make sense that they'd try to keep low. Thankfully, he'd be taking care of whatever was wandering around this place, so they wouldn't have to stay hiding for long. Once that was done, they could blast their way out of there and he could find his way back to the others. Couldn't keep everyone waiting on account of him, right?

[running across Rita, The Trickster, and hopefully, a freaking flashlight]

Tifa stopped in the middle of the temporarily lit Sun Room as patients were being shuffled out and others in for some repeat performance, though she wasn't exactly sure what it was. But it was irrelevant since her sights were set on another room she and the nurse just passed. "Hey..." Her nurse had continued forward without her and it took a soft command to bring her back. "Can I stay in this room for awhile?" From what she saw, it was relatively free of patients and held what looked like a small piano.

"Oh..." The young woman came closer and leaned forward to make sure she knew exactly what Rachel was pointing to. "The music room? Of course, that's sounds like a good way to unwind..." Never having much problem with this patient's attitude, the nurse was confident enough to let her find her own seat without being manhandled into it.

She quickly found the piano again, a bit disappointed it wasn't a grand piano, but beggars couldn't be choosers, or, well, crazies couldn't choose. Whichever. Pulling the chair up close so she could be directly over the board, the young brunette tested out a few keys to see how well the electric piano sounded. It wasn't great, but she shouldn't have expected much more.

"Oh well..." With a quick slide over the keys, Tifa found the C and began playing a light, slow song. Unfortunately, she hadn't played the piano in years and it took her a few retries before it came back to her.

[Blindy McStumbles~]

[from here]

There was quiet as the First Child stepped forward, steps echoing on a familiar surface. Shock disturbed even her features as she stared at Unit 00, intact and whole in its restraints. How was this-- For some reason this was what affected her more. That Unit 00 was whole. And only as the dredges of that dulled did the surprise of their location fully set in. This was a place she knew. A place frequented more than the place that she slept.

Ayanami moved forward, closer to her Eva. And here, they were supposed to? Was there something that needed to be done? Arriving at this place, with no warning. Rei was starting to believe it hadn't happened. None of it. But it was a passing notion--her memories ran too deep of the events of the past to deny any experiences. But for the reasons... No. She did not know. She did not know at all.

[From here]

The kitchen was another totally valid target. Last time, that spider had kept him from getting to keep those cookies (nevermind he had thrown them at her). He just felt like going there first tonight. In no way was he avoiding dealing with Neku. He could go kick that nanogram's face in any day of the week. He just had better things to do now than here him whine about some dead variable J. That was practically old news - he was composer now.

"Out the door, patio, 180 to the left, door, door, kitchen," he rambled absently.

[YEAH BOOZE-- I mean, from here.]

He lost his balance while crossing over and nearly tripped on his own slippers; if not for the brother at his side, Nigredo might have fallen over. There existed an imbalance in his steps, a sensation close to vertigo, as though their surroundings thought it fit to move to them and not the other way around. This itself was disconcerting, and he had to wonder just how much of a dosage his nurse had given him.

It took a minute to regain bearings, but the confusion was instantaneous. They were, like before, in a place unfamiliar. Now different; no mirrors or tile could be seen from any side. Rain continued to fall from overhead with increasing intensity while the scent of sawdust and alcohol hung heavy in the air. With it, the uncomfortable churning in his stomach started once again. The boy paused, breath suddenly heavy and sick, to consider their surroundings.

"Where--" Where were they?