Like clockwork, the intercom came on at the end of the hour. And like clockwork, the Head Doctor began the first of his concluding daytime announcements with abnormal levels of cheer and good will.

"Good evening, everyone! What a fun-filled day we've had, hm? You must all be tuckered out and ready for bed."

Why, the man seemed unwilling to say.

"Never fear. We're nearing the end." He paused thoughtfully. "The main course of our dinner menu tonight is gourmet spaghetti topped with our signature marinara sauce. We have garlic bread and Caesar salad for your sides as well as your choice of vanilla, strawberry, or chocolate ice cream for dessert. As usual, we will have our assortment of drinks and vegetarian alternatives. If you're partial to that little extra omph, we have parmesian cheese available upon request."

There was another pause, this time with papers rustling in the background. "Take care not to stain your letters now. Bon appétit!"

The intercom clicked off.

And so it seemed that everything had gone back to normal.

Guy had spent his breakfast filling in a new patient and now Landel was rambling over the intercom like he always did. It made sense that the man would want to act like everything with Aguilar had never happened, though Guy couldn't help but wonder how things would change when night finally came. Knowing Landel, he'd have a long-winded speech prepared for them.

That was something that he could worry about later, though. Guy filed away the information about the doctors, but it didn't matter too much to him. He'd only been forced through that once, and had apparently been deemed a lost cause after that session. Speaking with a doctor here would just be a waste of time as far as he could tell, so that was fine by him.

Being placed in the Sun Room gave him access to the bulletin board, and perusing it gave him some idea of what had gone on last night, at least to the point that he understood that they'd had some sort of outside help. People were being secretive, but that was nothing new. Guy went ahead and put up a note for his friends, wanting to keep it up as a routine (at this point Luke should have been the one doing it, but Guy could talk to him about that later).

With that taken care of, he had little else to do but find himself a place to sit, and before long he located a comfy armchair. He took as seat, but as usual Guy couldn't help but keep an eye out for any friends.

[For Tear!]

[from here]

McCoy tsked but stepped back just in case so Spock could do his thing. Lord, Spock was strong. He took the door down as if he was knocking a fly away and with about as much effort too. Seeing Spock nearly go through the door, taken by surprise by his own strength and without quite the same Vulcan grace, washed away the brief uneasiness. McCoy struggled to hold back the grin then gave up. The grin that erupted was gleeful one.

It was like Spock was back to how he was before. As soon as he saw McCoy on the way to recovery, Spock's understanding and weird empathy, where Jim hadn't quite gotten it, vanished. I suppose he's the mama bird and I'm baby chick getting kicked out of the nest,  McCoy thought with a wince. Spock as a mama bird was not an image he wanted to try again. Maybe Spock wanted to pretend it never happened, like a drunken confession. It was so suddenly gone to the point that McCoy could have imagined it while his brain was deteriorating out from under him. Spock would have you believe that he didn't have it in him. Compassion was for humans, Vulcans were above it.

Bull. Spock had it in him. He'd only shown it back on... McCoy floundered around for the particulars and came up empty.  Another one of the memories burned out. At least he knew Spock had been compassionate when he thought no one was looking. McCoy remembered that much with dead certainty, just not the context. It was good enough when it came to holding it over him forever. McCoy fully intended to keep reminding him of it at every single opportunity. Besides, if the him in their universe wasn't doing it, it was his job to pick up the slack.

McCoy stepped through the door and sniffed at the night air. "You have to work on your bedside manner. I think I liked you better when you were being warm and cuddly."

((From here.))

A quick sweep with his flashlight revealed no other patients or lifeforms in the immediate area, but their arrival could quickly change that if they didn't exert caution. It was unfortunate that his presence would put the doctor in extra danger. However, as a Starfleet officer, McCoy had received enough training to adequately handle unexpected combat situations. That didn't, of course, mean Spock could afford to be careless. He was the ranking officer, and they needed to protect their CMO, who was an indispensable asset to their team.

Obviously, Spock would have to defend them both if they fell under attack. Since that was the case, he believed it would be best to leave at least one of his hands empty.

"Doctor," he quietly said as he glanced at his traveling companion. "I believe it would be best to place you in charge of the light for the time being." Spock extended the device to him.

[from here]

Kirk ran into the main hallway and found nothing there except more pink light coating everything. His gut feeling said that if something was happening, it should've happened already, but he was a loss to explain what was going on. The system (if he could call it that, vague as it was to describe the whole Landel's torture/experimentation assembly line) had broken down at least once already, on that night when I.R.I.S. had first(?) appeared, and the whole of the building flickered like a malfunctioning hologram. Was that what the glowing cover was for? To prevent... he didn't know. Something. Something bad enough to warrant a Code Red.

(What had killed that creature?)

Waiting around here was already bad enough on normal nights, what with it being an open space with high traffic, but he'd picked it because it was the quickest and most obvious meeting place for all of them. Now with the whole area lit up like the inside of a strip club, Kirk was starting to feel like a lone piece of meat wrapped in a gold ribbon and tossed out for the wolves. He made a face for a second as he considered the unfortunate implication of mixing those similes, then decided that the dumb thoughts which crossed his mind ranked considerably lower in priority than, you know, paying attention to his surroundings and not getting himself killed.

Kirk swung the lead pipe in his hand once, just to focus, and shook his head as pain rippled out from the still-healing gunshot wound on his right arm. Take it easy, Jim, he admonished himself silently. It was still early in the night. Someone would be along shortly. And if not... he was giving his crew one minute. One minute, and then screw it, he was tracking down everyone himself.

[KIRK TO ENTERPRISE]

[Coming from here.]


Daemon glided out into the wider corridor and paused for a moment, letting Renji join him, taking a moment to probe the shadows with his senses, looking for anything out of the norm. There was a tingle down his spine, the sensation of being watched, though he couldn't find its exact location, just the knowledge that it was there. He paused, debating on whether it was worth the effort of searching out, or leaving it to others while he and Renji kept heading for the stairs. He could see them from here, the door illuminated by his witchlight just off to his right.

He waited for Renji to join him, figuring the Shinigami would want a say.

"There are things moving in the shadows," he murmured to the redhead as the male moved out from the corridor behind him. Daemon didn't look at all disturbed by this statement, floating a few inches above the ground with a relaxed grace that was utterly foreign for their situation. Looking almost bored, he studied his black-tinted nails with a sleepy, hooded gaze.

Emergency. Emergency. Initiate CODE RED. Initiate CODE RED.

The blaring alarm had Daemon jolting to his feet, journal dropped forgotten to the bed and staff grabbed instinctively from beside him as wide golden eyes darted around the darkened room, braced for an attack. It hit him a moment later, a wave of something, so malevolent that for a moment he stumbled, going to his knees. It stole his breath and for a moment, his senses spun as he knelt there, disoriented.

That’s when he felt it, a subtle enticing pulse that felt as natural to him as his own heartbeat. He didn’t believe it at first, several seconds ticking past as he knelt there, frozen with shock. And then he tried calling in his Jewels, afraid to hope that what he was feeling was real and not some twisted illusion.

But no, the deep Red ring that appeared on his right hand was real, glinting faintly at him with an inner glow all its own. And there was a weight about his neck, one he recognized even before he lifted a shaking hand to find the pendant dangling there, with the familiar mounted Black Jewel at its center.

He stared at it for another long heartbeat, afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid this was some taunting dream he’d wake up from at any second, but that seductive whisper of his power, the depth of the abyss, it pulled at him like a siren’s call. He dove deep, descending through the lighter webs in a controlled dive, moving faster and faster the darker he went. When he reached the Black layer of his inner web, he threw his head back and unleashed a victorious cry, unable to help himself.

His Jewels were back. His powers. Everything.

He was going to wash this place red with blood before dawn.

An instant later, the room filled with an icy chill so cold and so sudden that the bed beside him cracked with the force of it. His smile was sharp and feral, eyes gone vicious as he prowled towards the door with all the deadly grace of a predator ready to hunt. He started donning shields as he went, just in case, taking no chances, not now. A Black shield snapped into place, coating him like a second skin. Another layered on top of that. He reserved the reservoir of his Birthright Red for anything else he might need as backup before donning a sight shield, making him invisible as he glided out into the darkened Institute.

The Sadist had come out to play.

[Going to here.]

Renji walked with purpose down the hall, though he wasn't in enough of a hurry to flashstep yet. He had to have somewhere he wanted to go first. Of course the idea that sprang instantly to mind was easily summed up as an equation: INSTITUTE + HIHIOU ZABIMARU = BOOM = :-D

However, that would need to wait until, for example, there weren't people he liked in the institute. And even with the Shinigami gone, he was sure there were people he liked around. Sora and Kairi sprang instantly to mind. So how to work that out? And he was sure there were other people around that had their own brand of kidou that could blow some shit up in a way that would paste a permanent smile on his face.

Organizing. That organizing thing needed to happen. And fast.

Guy's head was still spinning from finding out that his friend was back once again. He realized that he'd done a good job of keeping his cool while explaining everything to Luke, mainly because nothing would have been solved if both of them had been reeling, but...

What exactly was he going to do now? Tear and Natalia being excluded from the basement group was one thing, but Guy felt a duty to Luke that he was going to have a difficult time divorcing himself from. He realized he wasn't really Luke's servant anymore (Luke had said so himself), but with how often Luke had left this place only to return again, how could he not feel as if he needed to keep an eye on him?

Granted, it was something that they could split up among their whole group. Luke wasn't going to like the idea of being babysat, but Guy didn't know if he was comfortable with anything else. Tear and Natalia could stick with him when he headed off with Claude and Anise, but getting all of that information transmitted in the small time left before night came seemed impossible. In any case, if he made it sound more subtle -- like they were all just taking care to stick together -- then Luke would probably accept it.

The soldiers forced them apart when lunch ended, however, meaning that Guy's only option was to put up a bulletin notice and hope that things worked themselves out that way. He was pretty sure Claude still had an extra sword for Luke, so that was one weight off of his shoulders at the least. But he really didn't want Luke going off on his own at night, so any chance of preventing that was his priority.

Once a note had been posted, Guy finally agreed to go into the Game Room with most of the patients. He realized he had the ability to wander elsewhere, but it seemed pointless when there were barely any others who had the same privileges. Still, he couldn't help thinking of Sai; he still needed to track the man down at some point.

Upon entering the room and finding that it was still relatively empty, Guy started to wander in search of anything interesting to play. He could always check out one of those portable game systems again.

[For Edgar.]

Billy surfaced into wakefulness. Sleep receded like an inky tide, and it didn't say anything to him before it was gone. His dreams had been nothing but the sensation of water, rocking him restlessly in his bottle. There seemed to be an ocean beyond his confines, but he couldn't see it and couldn't reach it. He pawed at the glass, but any progress he'd made had been washed out of his memory.

He tried not to be disturbed by the deja vu, but it wasn't the sort of thing one was in full control of. And yet, his heart didn't race. His nose didn't bleed. His hands were shaking, but with a different tenor than the last time he had concentrated on them. Everything felt still, and whole, and maybe not right, but for the first time in weeks Billy breathed without trouble. There was no weight of a terrified, dying universe crawling over his shoulders and clamoring for attention. He laid there in bed for a long time. Victory. Not his victory, but someone else's, and that was good enough. He hadn't needed to be the one who saved it, he was just doing what he had to. Truthfully, he was glad to have not seen it. There was a lot Billy wished he hadn't seen.

He couldn't bring himself to react much to the fact that he was still here. Billy glanced around a couple times, vision blurred without his glasses, but saw that the room was basically the same. This time lit up, of course, although it didn't help him to gather many precise details. He would have almost said his aimless adventure with Captain Kirk during the night had been a dream, but it was all wrong, thematically speaking. Maybe if Kirk had been a squid dressed in gold lamé, he'd believe it. It really didn't matter what his dreams meant anymore, though.

( Kraken spoiler cut for those who mentioned wanting to read it. )

Any further thoughts were interrupted by a soldier he hadn't noticed entering.

"Get dressed."

Billy stared at the military blues from the night before. Clean and fresh, no sign of any blood, not that he'd been the one injured. There was even a little hat that he had missed the night before. He was going to look ridiculous, he could feel it.

"I think you'll probably find I'm not actually registered here," he tried to tell the guard, who was not impressed by Billy's claim. The soldier wasn't even moved by Billy pointing out that the dog tags didn't have his name on them. (Frederick Aldrich? An eerie coincidence that made Billy quietly comply with demands for a few minutes.) The man spoke in nothing but orders, which were easy to follow when you weren't particularly attached to any final aim. Billy was listless. Flotsam and jetsam. Getting back to London was an eventual goal, but he'd put in a call to someone later, and go back to whatever. His life, he supposed. He was already exasperated by the taciturn and far too serious military man. Once upon a time he would have wanted to gain purchase with him through inoffensive smiles and falsely friendly comments. Today, he could only give the man a tired look and equally brusque answers that didn't hide his irritation. Did he really look young enough to be pressed into a military academy?

He was led down cleaner versions of the hallways he had seen the night before, and into a large cafeteria, basically devoid of anyone beside himself and the assembled guards. Billy uncomfortably found a seat, and took a few seconds to just hide his face in his hands and block everything else out. The tray he had been given was immediately forgotten, just to the side of him, and he blamed his turning stomach on the adrenaline that was still working its way out of his system. It was so fantastically quiet in the large room, he wanted to drown in it. He only peered through his fingers when someone else in powder blue passed close to his table.

[For Castiel.]

((From here.))

Although some patients took a great deal of time to memorize their way through the building, Spock's eidetic memory allowed him to remember most details from an area, even if he'd only seen it once. Of course, he'd passed through this hall several times during his reconnaissance assignments. The path to McCoy's quarters wasn't difficult, particularly since the patient blocks had a uniform design.

Even so, that wasn't any reason to let his guard down. Remaining alert, Spock carefully listened for any signs of an impending ambush as he moved through the darkness. A quick glance at his surroundings revealed no other patients aside from himself. That was likely for the best, seeing how Spock didn't wish to keep McCoy waiting longer than necessary.

Given the doctor's current condition, the Vulcan knew he needed to proceed with future interactions as carefully as possible. There was a chance McCoy would leave his quarters if left to his own devices for too long. Moving with purposeful strides, Spock turned into the northern block.

((To here.))

((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.))

[In M24.]

In the end, Peter hadn't been able to do a thing while Sam had been taken by the soldiers. Even though they'd made it clear that it wasn't for the normal things -- experimentation or brainwashing -- he couldn't help but feel both nervous for his roommate and useless over not being able to stop it. But Peter had his own plans for the night and while the soldiers didn't seem as quick to sedate them as the nurses had been, he hadn't been able to take a chance with that.

"Hang in there, Sam," he directed at the door that his roommate had disappeared through, dragging a hand through his hair as he did his best to calm down. First Sam had been called out to meet that lieutenant (or whatever the rank was; Peter wasn't good at that kind of thing) and now he was suddenly being dragged somewhere by soldiers in the middle of the night. It definitely stood out, and not in a good way.

However, Peter could only worry so much about that, seeing how he had people who would be dropping by to give him extra supplies. Soma he knew, if only from a brief meeting right after she'd been experimented on, but the other girl -- Utena, right? -- would be new to him. Still, the fact that she'd made a post to offer up supplies to whoever needed it already made it clear that her heart was in the right place.

He only hoped that they both showed up quickly. He was going to have to go meet up with Max afterward and while he doubted that the man was going to rush off somewhere, he still didn't want to make him wait. With how nervous the guy had been during their talk earlier, he'd probably assume the worst and Peter didn't think Max needed to worry more than he already was.

Of course, expecting people to rush when they were doing him a favor was asking far too much, and so Peter did his best to be patient, taking a seat on his bed as he tried to relax. There wasn't even an announcement for him to mull over to pass the time, and so in the end his thoughts simply returned to worrying over Sam. He knew his roommate could take care of himself, but all of the possibilities of where he might be going kept flitting through Peter's head.

[Waiting for Utena and Soma, then going to meet ZEX Max.]

[M41]

For the first time that Byrne could remember in the four or five days he'd been here, the night began without any sort of dramatic fanfare. No mysterious intercom broadcast, no creepy static, no doctors coming in to drag him away again, no nothing. Just the usual unlocking of the doors and silence.

The staff were trying to find new ways to scare people, huh? Well it wasn't going to work for this patient. Try being scary all you want. Nothing could match last night's torture session, and he was past that now. See if he cared!

...So he thought to himself as he let out a huge sigh of relief. Oh thank god. Never had he been so thankful to know that night was here. Dinner had ended without anyone coming for him, and he could now be free to seek out the one man he trusted more than anyone else. It was a lucky break. What could go wrong now?

Byrne collected himself mentally, then searched his desk drawer out of habit for that damn flashlight that was never there. It appeared for everyone else, didn't it? They were just screwing with him now, he bet. No matter. He'd survive. The Yatagarasu didn't need flashlights! The light of truth and justice could shine in any sort of darkness...

After yet another inner pep talk, he nodded his head at his roommate and then made his way out to the hall.

Hang tight, Badd. I'll be there soon.

[Skipping ahead to here.]

Although it had been good to see his mom again, Claude entered the cafeteria with a dark expression on his face. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to share her experiences from last night, but that didn't make him any less angry at the military for using her to do their dirty work. Why couldn't those bastards clean up their own messes? Surely they had the resources for it.

Were they really going to have to fight someone else's war now?

His head buzzed with those sorts of questions as he moved through the room. Even so, with the help of his escort, Claude assembled a tray with a rather large hamburger, the appropriate condiments, and a cup of water. The cafeteria was still relatively empty, save for the soldiers on duty, so he took very little time in the line. It was probably just as well. He'd been so engrossed in his conversation with Rita during breakfast that he hadn't eaten much.

After finding an empty seat, Claude gingerly placed his tray and journal onto the table and sat down. As he lifted up his burger with his good hand, Claude couldn't help but think of Ashton for a moment. Where was he? He'd disappeared so long ago, and yet part of him worried the military had used him for something too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he took a bite and tried to focus on getting a decent meal in his stomach.

[For Guy!]

[From here.]

As Castiel exited the room block he'd been assigned to, it occurred to him that Gabriel had not caught up with him this time around. That was for the best. He had a difficult time shaking his brother off in this place, seeing how he couldn't disappear at the snap of a finger. If he'd had to bring his brother along on his lesson with Orihara, Gabriel would have broken up the instructions and also invited far too many questions, considering his paranoia from the other night.

He had little idea of what the archangel got up to on the nights that they didn't come across each other, but at this point he couldn't get caught up pondering about it.

Straight down the hall and he would be at the spot that they had decided upon. He still had no idea of where Orihara's room was, but perhaps it was better that way. Their relationship should remain strictly professional, especially since he didn't really know how to turn it into something other than that.

This was easier.

[To here.]

[M41]

If there was one thing the coup improved, it was the intercom announcements. Nothing long-winded, no rantings of a mad man. Short, efficient, or better yet, nothing at all.

Thank God for little miracles, McCoy thought sourly. Then he scowled. How sad was it that this was the kind of thing he looked forward to now? If he didn't feel like his brain was melting out his ears, McCoy might've wondered how his life had come down to this kinda thing. By the time the doors unlocked, the headache had bloomed back into the migraines and with a vengeance. If McCoy ever once entertained the thought that he just might get used to them after awhile, he found out he was dead wrong. The only saving grace was that no one else was around right now to see it.

So he was relieved of duty. McCoy rolled that around in his head. Toyed with the idea. It stung (slightly) less when he thought about it, now that he had time to get used to the idea. Still hurt though. Relieved of duty didn't equal being confined to his room. It just means I'm not practicing as part of the crew, McCoy told himself. He was on his own time now. Maybe he didn't quite now what to do with an unspecified amount of spare time, but he could figure something out. It didn't mean he had to sit around, and in fact, he didn't plan to. He could pull his own weight, be useful still. Was it him or was it hot in here? The room felt hot. Not even humid-hot. Dry, arid, desert hot. ( Read more... )

[For Spock?]

Dinner had seemed to pass by too quickly, while night had come on quietly, with just the click of the door opening. Nonetheless, Peter had managed to get his new duffel bag packed with all of the medicine, syringes, and medical supplies that he might need without it being too heavy to manage. He still had to carry his shovel in his other hand, which meant he was going to be weighed down more than he probably should be, but he would just have to drop the bag if he got into a nasty fight.

It wasn't the best system, but it was all he had to work with and being able to hang the bag over his shoulder also meant that he still had an open hand for his flashlight. He definitely felt more like a paramedic at this point, especially since he had changed back into the military uniform.

Still, he could suit up as much as he liked, but none of it would matter if he couldn't find people to save. That started at square one, though, which meant finding Claire. She was probably the person who needed the least protecting, but he couldn't kick the feeling that her night yesterday hadn't gone well after she'd left him, and so she wanted to be a good uncle this time around. He owed it to her after she'd healed him.

After bidding farewell to Sam and heading out into the hallway, Peter didn't delay in moving down it. He didn't know if there was anything planned for them tonight by Aguilar, but it wasn't something he could spend time worrying about when he needed to high-tail it over to the female block.

[For Sylar.]

Peter didn't know if he and Firo had left on the best terms, if only because the younger man was still so confused about what was going on in this place. The change in time period had a lot to do with it, but it had also sounded like he'd had a lot going on in his life before ending up here. Then again, who hadn't? Peter had just exploded before his arrival.

It was hard to think back to that night, to the way he'd stood in Kirby Plaza while burning up with nuclear overload, when he was in this quaint snow-covered town. This was the sort of image you'd see on the Christmas card; it wasn't supposed to exist.

Still, his walk with Firo had been rather long all things considered, and so Peter finally decided to leave the teen to his devices and go warm up somewhere. The best way to do that would be by putting some hot food in his stomach, and so he ended up backtracking to the Tasty Burger. He could have gone ahead to the Twin Pines, since the food was obviously better quality there, but the walk was longer and his face was starting to get numb.

Letting out a small sigh of relief as he stepped into the lively fast food place, Peter fished the proper coupon out of his pocket and went to stand in line, eyeing the two young girls at the counter as he waited for it to be his turn. Once he'd eaten, he could really start searching the shops for what to buy.

[Claire Bennet.]

Goku was stuck against against the windows of the Doyleton grocery store. It was likely the young boy's face was fused to the thick glass now that he'd been standing there for about ten minutes, transfixed by the amount of food that was sitting in one location. What were the odds?! It was a chance too good to pass up. Honestly, when would this food pile ever be in the same place again? Never, that's when! It would be ravaged by man and beast alike until there was nothing left but picked bones.

So, of course, the monkey boy had swiped himself an apple out in front. Before he could even take a bite, he was jerked off his feet and his precious booty was taken back by some cross woman! She had told him he needed to pay first and then it just went downhill from there. Suffice it to say, Goku was left with an empty stomach and a scowl as he watched people come and go with their "paid for" food with intense jealousy. Occasionally, a patron would leave, give him a quick double take, and remark about his odd appearance, and Goku was in total agreement. The white witches had stuck him in denim overalls and all this squeaky yellow fabric! It was constrictive and stiff, augh! He'd fought as long as he could, but the they eventually overwhelmed him.

Next time! Next time he'd get them! A match to the death! Yes, it was a very exciting notion. But before any blood could be shed, he needed fuel. It was right there, but they wouldn't let him have any! Why were adults so evil?


[Kirk and Spock, your love child is waiting~]