[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.

[From here]

Stomping up the stairs, the Mathematician was immediately reminded of his lack of a hand truck banging up behind him. He'd probably need to replace that if he wanted to grab more materials for his artwork.

"Haven't made so much as a single standing statue since Night 1," Sho muttered as he clomped up the stairs in his institute boots. Sure there'd been the occasional creation in Arts&Crafts, but that hardly counted. Well, there was one artistic piece he could be proud of, fleeting as it was... "Well, other than my latest masterpiece!"

A chuckle and laugh - he still had most of the materials for another as well - all he needed was a suitable subject to paint red with flame.

[from here]

As Mello walked toward the area overlooking the Sun Room, a tension he hadn't realized he was carrying eased off a little, not entirely. There'd be screaming in the rooms by that hallway, the one he deliberately hadn't let himself glance in the direction of, though he knew the sound wouldn't carry to the hall itself. Nothing he could do for them, he reminded himself, and finding out what Matt knew was more important. "Did we win yet?" he asked.

He fought to drown out the doubts trying to crowd in, the thought that even if they had for Matt, that didn't mean it would happen that way for Mello. Here L was with the answers to the case ready to act on, but Mello still remembered standing in Roger's office, hearing the unthinkable, as vividly as if it had been yesterday. The possible explanations were all equally horrible--L dead despite everything, or dead no matter what in Mello's timeline, or unable to escape soon enough--and though Matt hadn't had time to answer, Mello looked back at him and snapped, "Well?"

[From here]

And here he was once more, not unlike the night before. Of course, then he'd been falling subsequent to a certain yoctogram. The memory brought a smile to his face. Now he was the prime factorial in that equation.

Checking the darkness once more with the flashlight taped to his arm, Sho didn't immediately notice anything that could pose a threat to him. Just as well; any deciles dumb enough to deal with him would be learning about the force of impact associated with the multiplication of his arm by his shovel.

However, it was just as Sho passed by the hallway of doctor offices that he heard the sound waves of an approaching attoliter...

[For the spider]

Hmph. While this Rude was the proverbial "man of few words," von Karma found more potential use from him than a number of the other patients he had met put together. He would still ask Franziska about the man... as well as the other people he had learned that she had been spending time around. Many of them were utter fools, especially that Kibitoshin.

He ignored the nurse as she insisted that he stay indoors, lest he "catch his death of pneumonia." Already having planned to meet his daughter in the Sun Room, the prosecutor had no intention of spending the cold, gloomy morning in the Courtyard anyway.

It appeared that he was the first to arrive in the spacious room. Gray light from the overcast sky filtered in through the glass windows high above, making it somewhat more difficult for von Karma to peruse the notes on the bulletin board as he awaited Franziska's arrival.

The lines in his forehead furrowed as he saw Kibitoshin's note to her, asking her whether she was "feeling better." What made that blasted oaf think that it was any of his business how she was doing or to worry about her?! She had been raised to take care of herself, damn it! ...Did Franziska say or do something that would lead the clumsy idiot to think otherwise? This, among other things, von Karma would ask her.

After removing his daughter's response to his original note from the board -- and noting that Ms. Taura had yet to reply to his other note -- he sat down at a table in a remote corner of the room, claiming this space that would afford him and his daughter the most privacy.

Mew?

What was that noise? And what was that tugging sensation at the leg of his pants? He peered down in the direction from which the irritating sound had come and was greeted by a tiny orange kitten that had the mistaken notion that his leg was a climbing post. Infernal creature! One glance at his face, and the furry little nuisance was suddenly at the other end of the room, having cleared it within several skittish bounds. Good riddance!

[Waiting for his Dear Daughter]

Scott wasn't really what one would call the sporty type, at least not currently. In the past, maybe. He could have called himself a hockey player at one point - in grade two (it totally counted). And he had been a jock in high school, hadn't he (he had at least played a lot of Track & Field for the NES, anyway)? Regardless of what his athletic status may or may not have been, sports weren't really what the Scott Pilgrim of nowadays was associated with. He was a fighter, not a lover sports guy. Still, he was surprisingly excited to be going out to the Rec Field. Maybe he wouldn't get any games on, but he could still work off those pesky bullet wounds, right?

He walked as fast as the crutch would let him despite the protests of his nurse and his injured limbs. His hand could grip just well enough to keep the crutch steady under his right arm (gravity did most of the work), and he was thus able to keep a good pace. "All right, not doing bad so far," Scott said to himself with a grin as he hobbled quickly across the field, heading for the goalposts on the far end. He had worked up a surprisingly steady stride by the time he got close to them. Crutch forward, then left leg swung out in front of it. Crutch, leg, crutch, leg, crutch, leg. Nothing to it! Sure, his shoulder was hurting like burning. Sure, his right leg was still giving him similar pain on a smaller scale despite not having weight put on it. Sure, his animal brain was constantly shouting, "WHY WON'T YOU STOP?!" Other than that, though, he was a-okay. He was determined to be. Otherwise, it was Game Over, wasn't it?

Soon he reached the goalposts and stopped, much to the relief of his limbs. He hadn't really gone to this spot for any specific reason. He had just wanted to prove to himself that he wasn't that hampered by his injuries. For now, he seemed to have made a good case for the affirmative on that point. He knew that he couldn't just stop at moving forward, though. He had to see how good he was going to be at fighting in this condition. How was his moveset going to be modified with a crutch added and an arm taken away? That was the million dollar ($1176470.59 CDN) question, wasn't it?

He tried something simple to start - a standing kick with his good leg. He quickly raised his left leg while leaning his armpit against the crutch, lightly touching the goalpost with the sole of his foot. Nothing bad so far. He did the same thing again, only harder. A small wave of pain shot from one leg to the other, causing him to wobble on his crutch a bit. Scott grit his teeth, not liking that result at all. This time he decided to try a small jump kick, just to spite that stupid injury. After backing up a good few inches, he pushed both feet off the ground. "Hiiiiya!" With the end of his crutch still on the ground, he gave himself a bit of extra momentum, letting it fling him toward the goalpost with his left leg outstretched.

One didn't have to be able to predict the future to know what that the result of that was going to be. Foot connected hard with goalpost. Rebound pushed him back against the crutch. Center of gravity over the crutch shifted too far back. Pain shot through both his legs and his injured arm again. This and the gravity shift caused him to let go of the crutch entirely. Body flew back over the crutch and crashed on the ground slightly behind it. Bum (among other things) ended up stinging and covered in grass stains.

"Owwwwww," Scott groaned to himself, fumbling for the crutch. It was in an awkward position, just beyond the reach of his good arm. ". . . Well, could've gone worse, I guess," he told himself as he used his left foot to start pushing the crutch back toward his hand.

[For Keman at first, then Peter and Indy later.]

The mere fact that she'd been susceptible to whatever hold the Institute had had on her yesterday was sufficient to leave Ayumu both upset and angry - no, not angry, downright furious, both at herself and whoever was responsible for that. But there was also the fact that because of it, she'd lost out on an entire day of work, and in several ways had ruined some of what she'd done already. That little conversation with Himura the day before, for instance, was something she'd sincerely prefer not to remember if she'd had any choice in the matter.

Unless the man was a complete moron, which, unfortunately, was one thing she couldn't believe of him, he had to have realized just who her brother was. After all the effort to keep that fact quiet (not exactly a secret, but certainly not advertised; half the Shinsengumi probably never even realized it because there was no reason to) she'd gone and chatted about it with him. Told him all about it, practically painted a bright target around a weakness that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

She'd spent the shift in the Sun Room pretending to sleep, while in truth forcing herself into calm. After years of practice she could shunt away the useless and distracting emotions, focusing only on what was important and needed to be at the forefront of her mind, and by the time the intercom signaled the lunch period she was feeling considerably calmer. The time to silently observe others had, as well, alerted her to something she probably should have noticed earlier: Mello was back. Would her previous objective be reinstated now? He seemed to have far less of a bulletin presence this time, so perhaps not. Still, though, it bore investigating.

None of her thoughts were visible, of course, as she moved through the line, examining the lunch selection somewhat dubiously. Now with the benefit of Yuuko's memories she might recognize the food, but she certainly didn't share the enthusiasm for it that her imaginary self apparently had. Ayumu skipped past that part and settled for the salad bar and some bread, then positioned herself in a place where she could watch both the door and the rest of the room, setting her journal open in front of herself as though planning to write something. There was far too much that she'd missed, too much work to do now.

[for Okita]

For the second time, Rika found herself waking with a start. She blinked at the grey light streaming through the windows, and looked across the room. Anise was still asleep. So. I'm still here. Let me just check...

Rika put on her slippers and walked over to the desk, checking the drawer and breathing a light sigh of relief. Good, the knife was still there. She wasn't sure why it would be there - shouldn't they have confiscated the weapon? Either way, though, as much as she was reluctant to use it, she was glad to have it still there.

Just then, she heard the creak of the open door, and quickly closed the drawer. Her nurse peeked in, whispering, "Rachel? Time for breakfast. You should put on a sweatshirt, it's a bit chilly." Rika nodded, quickly adding the extra layer and following the nurse out into the hall and to the cafeteria.

She was used to a Japanese-style breakfast, so the idea of something sweet - which the nurse was avidly describing, with the waffles and fruit and syrup - was a bit odd. Once she walked in, though, she had to admit it smelled good. She filled her plate with waffles topped with blueberries, some sausage, and eggs, took a glass of orange juice, and took a seat. It seemed she was early, so she took a seat close to one of the windows and waited.

[For Ange.]

[From here]

One sweep of the flashlight was enough to make the function of this room apparent. The shelves were stocked with more bytes of food than even Sho could think of inputting. None of it looked like it could be weaponized, but hex, even Reapers needed to eat. Grabbing one of Newton's favorite fruits, he took a look around for other exceptional values.

Hey, was that a pack of chocolate chip cookies?

[From here]

The door swung open, revealing the destination Sho had in mind: the kitchen, home of all things flame-inducing. That was the plan, anyway. Even though he didn't think it would work, the mathematician's fingers found the light switch and flicked it a few times. Nothing. Oh well, that's what he had his flashlight for.

"Okay, let's find us some combustion," he chuckled darkly, starting to go through the drawers. It wasn't long before there were egg-beaters and wooden spoons flying through the air.

[From here]

It seemed his sudden turn of good luck was merely a spike in the data; the room he entered was small food counter area that did not seem like a likely location for locating lighters. Nothing of interest to see except the door leading further in.

"Locked," he grumbled. This one seemed a lot less heavy duty than the thing outside, so perhaps slamming on it would actually work this time. That, and Sho just wanted to break something.

"Sine! Cosine!" he shouted, slamming the lock with his shovel. The clanging of metal on metal reverberated throughout the small room. "TANGEEEEEENT!"

With a final mighty heave, Sho's weapon definitively destroyed the device and a strong kick was all it took to send the door heaving inwards.

[To here]

[From here]

"Or maybe incendiary rounds, right? Just set that zeptoliter ablaze!" he laughed, waving his arms about enthusiastically as they came out into the moonlight. He came to a halt by the edge of the patio, looking out over the courtyard. Didn't look like there was any activity down there yet; a bit disappointing, though he could hear some noise from the rec field. Too bad the view was blocked by the building at the other end of the patio.

"Still, maybe some heat-seeking missiles? Just imagine sending a set of those on a trajectory in that directional," he said, pointing towards the courtyard, "just to see who they locked onto and erased, right? They wouldn't even know what hit 'em!"

Now Sho was hoping he really would run into a robot to derive parts from.

[From here]

"They got a few other factors also," he added as he strode down the hall. "Sometimes they brainwash other patients, restoring their full functions to measure up against the rest of us. I also got attacked by a temperature-augmenting alien the first night."

That hadn't been one of Sho's finer moments. Being forced to retreat from some naked genetic freak of nature was not high on his list of accomplishments.

"Oh, and some of the other hectopascals are robots," he added as an afterthought. "Y'think they turn back into scraps of talking tin if they get put on guard duty?"

Deriving the parts from one of those could be very profitable. Rocket punch? Laser eyes? Sign this mathematician up!

[From here]

Sho came to a halt as he topped the stairs, glancing down this hallway and that. He had a triumvirate of options and he hadn't a clue which one was right.

"There's a kitchen in this quadrant," he explained more helpfully. "The one downstairs requires going through the Sun Room and I've so far gathered convincing data suggesting a high probability of meeting attack in there. This one, however, bypasses that prerequisite." And instead was a big unknown, but what kind of man of science, even one who was first and foremost a man of numbers and art, didn't like exploring the unknown? "And in a kitchen we can probably find lighters and matches." He grinned. "And knives."

He'd obtained his share of blunt objects, and sure he had the paper cutter arm in his jacket, but nothing so precisely dividing as a knife. He wouldn't mind adding a few of those to his arsenal.

"Now, the only question is which directional do we go with?" he muttered, considering his options. Right headed over to the other side of the institute, which was definitely not where he'd seen the kitchen marked on the ill-remembered map; it also headed over the Sun Room, which could be just as bad as through it. Turning left meant going back the way they'd come, which reeked of backtracking and inefficiency. That left straight ahead.

"Let's go thataway!" he declared, directing forwards with his shovel. A sense of purpose in his stride, Minamimoto was off.

[From here.]

Joshua looked over his shoulder to make sure Willy was keeping up and hadn't fallen down the stairs like...like that Ryuk who might or might not have done a few nights ago who he'd never seen again. He was used to having gaps in his memory from drinking or worse, but he wasn't used to having to pick through his past and figure out which parts were real and which parts were crazed fantasy. Walking around in the dark at night was real and going to the kitchen to bake things with Willy was real. Zombies weren't real, but had they really spent the night in Doyleton? He remembered going out at night, he couldn't remember ever coming back.

"So are you out here every night?" he asked. "It doesn't seem like a great place for taking a walk."

The intercom's jingle signaled yet another announcement.

"And our excellent behavior continues! Well, I am extremely impressed indeed!

"In any case, it's time to stop our socializing, unfortunately, and for the patients to return to their quarters for dinner. Be aware that new roommates have been assigned due to our influx of new patients and discharged old ones, so please be hospitable should you find yourself with someone new!

"As for dinner itself: tonight, we'll be serving shrimp and vegetable tempura along with delicious chicken teriyaki. Yum, yum, yum! As sides, we will also be serving boiled, salted soybeans, rice, and of course the appropriate soy and tempura sauces. Our regular assorted drinks and vegetarian substitutes are also available.

"I hope you enjoy your meal!"

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 new room assignments here. ]

Despite the bit of bravado he'd displayed for Yuffie's sake, seeing her that way really had done a number on him. It was a good thing he'd found the bulletin board afterward. Having it confirmed that this state wasn't normal (was, in fact, new as of that morning) made it much easier to think positive. They'd get back the Yuffie they knew one way or another.

The girl had gone into the other activity room, so when Cloud was offered a choice he picked the room she wasn't in. He wouldn't be able to keep a watch on her this way, but neither would she be able to throw another fit over being stalked. This also gave him a chance to keep an eye on the board for anything else important that might show up.

Sighing, the blond made himself comfortable on one of the sofas, watching both the nurses and the cats roaming the floor. What were the people in charge of this place trying to accomplish?

[free]

Today was really trying to rain on her parade, wasn't it?

Well, it wasn't gonna work! Hanna was determined to stay strong and cheerful, in spite of Kenshin throwing a mega bitchfit and that the chick from the library being… Yeah. Her flightiness had been bad enough, but the half glossed-over memories had bordered on terrifying. Had she really been that far gone? It had to have been the meds. Just the meds. Yuffie was a douchey, semi-sociopathic klepto ninja thing, but even in that imagined world of hers, she hadn't gone around slashing people to ribbons for fun. Had she? Ugh, Hanna didn't even know anymore. Crazy people were capable of crazy stuff

Hanna's gut clenched just thinking about it, and she turned determinedly back to her lunch. The food wasn't exactly great, but it was better than some of the stuff she'd eaten. Like Stan's Deep fried Twinkie and mashed banana hot pot. Or, y'know, the normal stuff that teenage semi-runaways ate. Craptastic sandwiches and super economy potato chips, when she could get them, and whatever was in Tiffany's fridge when she couldn't. Dignity was dignity, and dignity was important, but being able to scratch a living from a rock was a handy life skill to have.

Stuffing another few chips in her mouth, Hanna did her best to ignore the door—and, by proxy, anybody who happened to come through it. Nostalgia trip aside, hadn't the Head Nurse said something about a whole new batch of crazycakes? Now she'd feel even more like a sardine than ever. Great.

[ For Cloud? :D ]

There was something fishy going on in the Institute today. All over the bulletin board, people were talking about having "woken up", having been "cured"... and it seemed as though ZEX was one of them. Tanaka wouldn't have recognized the note at all if it hadn't been signed - his wording, his handwriting, even his name had changed - and a part of him still wondered if it had been an imposter, trying to pull the wool over the Captain's allies.

But it'd be easy enough to find out the truth. Whoever it was had agreed to meet him, and Tanaka was waiting for him just outside the cafeteria doors, ready to catch him as he came from breakfast. If "Max" was an imposter, then he'd discover the identity of a hidden enemy. And if he was really ZEX...

...well, he'd have a whole new set of things to worry about.

[for a spoiled rich brat brainwashed Admiral]

Mori woke with a start. He lay on the bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and sighed quietly. Another day, another round of shifts and people and-- Wait a minute. Breathing in carefully, Mori's brow knit together as he realized that his ribs were no longer broken. After testing his collarbone, he found that it, too, was healing faster than it should have. Not that he was complaining, but there was something odd about broken bones setting so quickly. Pushing himself up out of bed, the teen shook his head, knowing that he'd have another day or two of the sling and then he'd be free from it.

But more important than that was finding out how Mitsukuni was doing. The last thing he remembered was the bathroom and gathering metal. Since they were together at the end of the night, Mori was certain that Mitsukuni would be fine, but...well, he still liked to confirm such things with his own eyes. With the twins gone and Tamaki still missing, Mori didn't want to take any chances anymore. Especially not with the strange announcements this morning.

As usual, his nurse came to collect him and helped him into his sling. Then he followed her quietly into the cafeteria, taking notice of the unusually empty bulletin board. They really were cracking down on it already. Weird. Even weirder? For once, he was the first into the room. Picking up a tray, he pointed out what he wanted, making sure to take double of the pancakes (asking to keep them away from the sausages for now), double of the strawberry jam and biscuits, and an extra helping of fruit. To top it off? Milk. It'd help his bones mend. Hopefully.

Going to a nearby seat, Mori took a look around the empty room and shivered. Kind of eerie in here without anyone else but the nurses. Someone was certain to come sooner or later though, right? He hoped so at least.

[for Chihaya]