Kaworu immediately gravitated towards the keyboard. It was not a piano, not truly, but it was attractive in all of the same ways. Music freed the mind from conscious thought, and Kaworu was feeling exceptionally weighed down by exactly that. There was a heaviness, as well as a lightness. He did not know where to begin approaching the situation with Shinji. It was a simple task to forget such things when the problem itself was caused by such an enamoring distraction.

Shinji needed to survive, he was supposed to continue, and yet he was here. This place would take his life without needing a reason. A soul so important could simply be put out, and the world would continue as it always had. It seemed wrong, but was it because it was not the way things should be, or simply because Kaworu wished it were so?

And yet, Kaworu could not say he was unhappy. He had done nothing to earn himself more time with Shinji. He had made his decision, and created for himself a fate apart from the Lilim. But as much as many Lilim wished the world to work in those terms, it rarely did. Events would move into place regardless of their actions. It was rare that something happened because an individual deserved it. It was only chance. Kaworu knew that he should not have been glad, but being with Shinji was indescribable.

His long, bony fingers moved across the keys easily, constructing Ode to Joy with each progressive note.

[Reserved for Albedo.]

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.]

This was a really, really bad idea.

Of course, Demyx wasn't the type to have very many good ideas, or at least ones that didn't pertain to music or ducking out of work. He knew he wasn't the brightest guy - something that had always been thrown into sharp relief in the Organization, full of scientists and people with no emotions or, in most cases, any senses of humor whatsoever to get in the way of them thinking way too hard about things - but when it came to sitars and survival instinct, he knew his intellect was, like, Mensa-level at least.

Which completely failed to explain why he was venturing out of his room, alone and unarmed and with some pretty weak powers to fall back on. But he kept seeing phantom blood on his sheets, and it was starting to really creep him out; he didn't think he could stay in his room tonight.

Maybe he could find Sora, or Xigbar, or even Luxord; he knew he wasn't exactly on the best of terms with the other Nobodies at the moment, but he still considered them friends, even if he got the feeling that had become kind of a one-way street these days.

[To here.]

That had been a very frustrating shower. For many reasons. At least Raine was going to at least look at Forte. Hopefully, she'll actually heal him. The showers had also succeeded in making the ninja feel like a pervert. A mild one, but still... It was as if Yukari had picked that spot in the showers because she knew the ninja could easily see her.

Ugh! Damn youkai.

Squirreling herself away in a corner of the cafeteria, Sheena finger combed her wet hair before pulling it back with the bright red ribbon. She so needed her own hair ribbon back. She was attempting to formulate her plan of acquisition - she was ninja after all - as people started trickling into the room. The plan was put on pause, though, when her stomach rumbled.

Food now - plan later.

[Closed to Haseo and Endrance]

[from here]

He really had beat the rush. Suzaku found a chair as close to the corner and as far from the bulletin as he could, and turned it to face the wall before curling up in it. His nurse frowned at him again, but she was still being cooperative, and frankly he didn't care what she had to say in the slightest. He didn't care even if he got sedated. All he cared about was finally having a few moments to himself, to sort out what Euphie's love meant and what the hell Lelouch's problem was.

It felt like he had all the pieces of a puzzle and was just too stupid to figure out how they fit together. What Lelouch had said about Shirley at breakfast and the tone he'd taken with Euphie on the board, Lelouch asking how Suzaku was, Lelouch dying. . . "All we can do is move forward and look out for the ones we care about." Euphie struggling to get out her last words, pain overtaking Suzaku's consciousness while he fought pathetically to carry out Lelouch's order. . . The last couple days, when he'd felt like he was finally figuring this out, seemed so far away now.

There were a couple things that were certain, at least: he hated what Lelouch had done, he always would. But he -- he didn't hate Lelouch, and he hadn't for a while now, and that wasn't going to change. And he didn't have much time, because everyone but Suzaku was terrifyingly mortal. And Lelouch was an idiot, but he still wasn't sure about the how and why of that one yet.

[for the Saucinator]

Soubi was restless. Demyx had provided a distraction from thoughts of Seimei and Soubi had other things to distract him once he was with Ritsuka. Now he just had to make sure Kio was sticking around and not sneaking off.

He'd been pacing by the door for only a minute before the intercom clicked on and the doors clicked open. He was out in a flash, waiting at the door of the room next door.

He wanted to move quickly. Make the exchanges he needed to and... set to work on this. Oh, and Ritsuka wanted to see Miku. Soubi was jealous curious about that...

Hello! I.R.I.S. here once more to announce to you, our honored guests, that you have officially made it through a day of our typical Landel's treatment. Of course, it isn't quite over: we will now have you retire to our designated patient quarters with one of your agency partners to inspect their sleeping area and the tools that we provide them with for the true bulk of our behavioral testing. On an added note, we would like you to notice once again that the meals we provide to our subjects are of the highest quality.

For those of you feeling apprehensive about taking part in our more intensive methods, please be aware that we would never imagine putting all of you in any danger whatsoever. This last shift will be your last at our Institute; afterward, we will escort you to our Head Doctor's personal observation station to survey some of our test Next-Wave participants in the rigorous trials we put them through – all for their betterment, of course.

Once again, we hope that you are satisfied with what you find, and as always, direct any questions you may have to your console.

The nurses began to escort the patients to their rooms. They didn't even seem to be brought to awareness by words such as "testing" and "subjects."

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

"Now you just have a seat and wait for your visitor like everyone else."

As the nurse went away from him, Kurogane huffed out some agitation but refused to have a seat. Hearing that he had a visitor had been one of the last things he'd expected. It was always the magician who got one, not him. And who the hell would want to visit him anyway?

During his first protests, the nurse had been telling him to behave since it wasn't nice to be sour to girls, so he knew it had to be a girl that was visiting. There were a few of those Kurogane knew could show up as a "visitor" for him, all of which were annoying. Some were worse than others too. He could probably handle if Sohma showed up, and maybe Amaterasu, but when it came to Tomoyo-hime... she was already hard to handle normally, no matter what world she came from. The Piffle version had been pretty much the same, just raised differently. If he saw her, even a fake her, she would probably be just the same and he'd have to at put up with it no matter what.

Eventually he chose to take a seat, knowing that he would not be leaving any time soon. Of course, he picked the one that was furthest into the corner to avoid unwanted conversations. He would already have to deal with a visitor; he shouldn't have to deal with anything more.

Sam frowned when he heard the intercom message. That didn't sound right. He'd gathered from his conversation with Sen that everybody in the institute was sane, but that the staff were trying to convince them they were mental patients for some nefarious purpose. So why that announcement? If Sam knew anything about brainwashing, he knew that it was a bad idea to announce it to the brainwashees. Good thing he was immune to...

"Oh no," mumbled Sam, feeling the top of his head. He wasn't wearing his hat, and if he wasn't wearing his hat, he wasn't immune to mind control. His mind was totally open to whatever insidious brain... control... things this place planned to inflict on him.

They seemed to be leaving him alone for now, though, so he headed back into the Sun Room and inspected the bulletin board, which was very hard to miss now that he was looking for it. It was plastered with messages, some signed with strange aliases, and some babbling about zombies.

Sam read the messages closely, engrossed. The biggest thing he'd learned about solving cases these days was that it was important to read everything. Talk to everyone too, but that could wait. Even that short conversation with Sen had taken all of brunch.

[for Scott Pilgrim]

The intercom message was unnerving. Again with this I.R.I.S. thing, and some nonsense about guests and tours. What the hell was going on? Was the head doctor really dead? That seemed to be the theory, but Asch couldn't be sure. He hadn't thought this place could get any nuttier, but apparently, it could.

Asch wasn't sure he even felt like eating, but the nurse insisted. So he got his tray of food and sat in the corner of the cafeteria, away from the other patients. He was well aware that this particular strategy was flawed, of course, as it had yet to provide him with anything resembling peace and quiet.

He hoped against hope, though, that he wouldn't be bothered. That annoying guy that used to room with the replica had no reason to come and bother him, and he'd spoken to Claude yesterday. He knew that the man from the night before - Apollo, that was what he'd written on the bulletin board - wanted to repay him somehow, but that wasn't exactly going to happen at a lunch table.

He reminded himself that he'd have to take the kitchen shears to Alfred to exchange for the meat cleaver, once night fell. The cleaver wasn't his first choice of weapon, but it beat the hell out of stabbing things with shears.

He took a drink of his juice and sighed. Maybe he'd get in contact with ZEX regarding night shift; he wasn't sure he wanted to venture out alone.

[Guy]

Why does this place always have to spoil my fun? was the first thing HK thought when he realized he was back in his cell in the Institute. Oh well. This meant his nurse would be coming soon to lead him off to whatever boring place he was supposed to go to now.

The meatbag arrived a few moments later, asking him in an overly cheerful tone if he slept well. HK responded with and equally cheerful "Statement: I was having the most wonderful dream. A dream of killing all humans." He managed to make a facial expression for best effect: A happy, terrifying grin. "And I think you were in it," he finished with an especially gleeful note.

The nurse nearly dragged him all the way down to the Sun Room. Success! He took a seat in one of the chairs, feeling smug.

[Free!]

[from here]

Lockdown kicked the door to the hardware store down and barged in. There was already a zombie in here, a big one, who the bounty hunter guessed was the owner of the store. There were also two other zombies with him, so Lockdown was already outnumbered. But that had never stopped the bounty hunter.

He frantically shifted his optics around the store, before settling on a set of large axes. Dashing forward, and executing a somersault to dodge the hands of the zombies, Lockdown quickly took hold of an axe, preparing to defend himself with it.

"HK, get your aft in here and lend a servo!" The bounty hunter called out.

The air had been even brisker for the walk from the restaurant to the store. Keeping up with his taller friend's longer strides had Armand breathless when they arrived. The exertion made him want to take off the heavy coat in the warmer indoors air, but he didn't want to carry or lose it.. As for the store itself, he was both fascinated and disappointed. He'd somehow expected more tools and work implements, perhaps even farming tools.

But the bins of nails and other small objects gave him a few ideas already. He hadn't even mentally gotten as far as the idea of concealment. He moved quickly to look down the aisles. He didn't want to get caught up talking to the man behind the counter. His inability to lie would do them badly. If anyone was questioned about what they were doing, it would have to be TK. Even then, Armand suspected that he'd be very uncomfortable with the lies even his friend would have to tell.

He pointed to a bin of screws and asked, "Do they put you in mind of anything useful?"

[TK-622]

Tim knew he shouldn't go and eat some greaseball burger meal, but really, the calorie content of a meal that he might actually enjoy was the furthest thing from his mind. Might as well get some use out of their bogus coupon book. It still struck him as really odd; this wasn't how mental facilities worked. It seemed like ridiculously low security to him, even with all the staff milling about.

Well, whatever. He was hungry and the sack lunch just wasn't doing it from him. So he ordered his meal, complete with the greasiest fries in the state of New Jersey, apparently, and sat at a table. The jeans were still annoying him. The skinny jeans fad was stupid, as far as he was concerned, because the pants were designed so tight that they were actually falling down if he sat. Wonderful. The next person he saw wearing these things voluntarily was getting punched in the face, just for being a moron.

...Okay, not really, but it was nice to entertain the thought.

He was glad to be away from Alfred for a few minutes, to clear his head. He wasn't sure where the butler - er, right, gentleman's gentleman - had gone, but he knew Alfred wouldn't follow him into a fast food place. Anyway, if there was anyone that knew how to take care of themselves in weird situations, it was Alfred. He'd be okay.

HEven with all the grease, the fries were palatable enough, and he opened another ketchup packet, glad for the chance to just sit here for a few minutes and think.

[Waiting for one impulsive speedster, and possibly one Superman clone.]

Just as von Karma started to enter the doorway leading to the Courtyard to look around for anyone remotely resembling his daughter, that pretentious lunatic's voice rang out over the Intercom, heralding the approach of lunch time. Right away, the damned nurse practically dragged him back into the cafeteria and towards the serving tables, telling him in that cloyingly cheerful tone that he could get his fresh air after he had had his meal. What rotten timing!

His mood worsened as he saw what was on those tables. "Nurse! This is the same greasy, disgusting, perfect-artery-ruining swill that was offered for lunch the last time I was in here! Does this Institute serve nothing else? How is any of this healthy for someone whom you claim has recently suffered from a stroke?!"

"Why, you're right, Mr. Fuchs! Here, I'll fix you a nice, big, healthy salad." Before he could protest that he wasn't hungry anyway, the smiling nurse loaded a heap of greens and some fruits onto a plate for him. Then she led him to one of the tables and seated him there. "Now, be a good man and finish all of that. You will do that just for me, won't you?"

The look he shot her in response indicated that he would never do anything "just for her." Certainly, not consuming this entire mountain of lettuce and carrots. As much as he approved of salads, the portion she served him was nothing short of ludicrous. Glaring at her in silence, he made no pretense of even starting in on this ridiculous travesty of a meal. Finally, she seemed to take the hint, excusing herself to attend to the other patients... but not without admonishing him that his "plate had better be clean" by the time she returned to take him to the Courtyard.

As she left him, von Karma looked all around him to see whether Franziska had come into the cafeteria yet. Unfortunately, as he had already arranged to meet his former roommate at this time, all he could do for now was to attempt to visually confirm her presence in this hellhole. As much as he hoped that the author of the replies to this S.T.'s note was nothing more than an impostor -- in which case, he would make that person pay for brazenly impersonating his daughter -- he was not entirely certain of that right now.

In the meantime, he had other practical matters to attend to. He still needed to speak to Javert to find out what had truly happened during the time he was unconscious. As he surreptitiously scanned the stream of arriving patients for the face of his daughter -- or those of his enemies -- he patiently awaited Javert's arrival, hoping that the man could still recognize him after all this time.

[Closed to Javert]

Endrance turned his head to look at the intercom, giving it a look that would wither an entire rose garden in an instant. He would never get used to ending up in his room again from somewhere else in the Institute.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, not sitting up just yet. He could tell already that his torso had been heavily bandaged, even more so than it had been the night before. The cuts on his arms were covered with fresh bandages, and the one on his cheek seemed to no longer be there at all.

Endrance had been expecting to wake up in a lot of pain, but even that seemed numbed. "They must have given me something," he murmured quietly, as he slowly sat up.

At that moment, his nurse came to get him, pushing a wheelchair along with her. "Peyton, dear, good morning. I've come to take you to breakfast, so..." He shook his head. "I'm fine. There's no need for that...I can walk perfectly well."

She sighed. Well, if he insisted, she wasn't going to stop him. She motioned for an orderly to take the chair away, and walked him to the cafeteria. Once they had gotten there, she pointed him toward a seat, then set a full tray of pancakes covered with syrup, a bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice in front of him. "Now eat all of that, Peyton, or else you won't be strong enough to keep walking like that."

He glared at her back as she walked away, then stopped suddenly. There was that faint pulse he'd felt the night before...it was exactly the same.

And so he completely ignored his food in favor of staring at the cafeteria doors, looking at every patient that came in.

[thread will be closed to Haseo. ♥]

[from here]

Tony's relief at exiting the claustrophobic confines of the stairwell was short-lived. The level above seemed as sparsely populated as the level below, and while this boded well for his chances of finding anything still worth scavenging for, it also meant any trouble came with slightly higher stakes. This deterred him roughly long enough to sweep the beam of his flashlight cautiously along the hall, peering as far as the light extended. Which still wasn't nearly as far as he wanted to. The lack of any immediate response, or any conspicuous blood stains, were things he decided he could count as good signs.

He hurried down toward the end of the hall, keeping a careful eye out for any motion, and an ear out for ominous chittering.

[from here]

Tony winced as the door to the stairwell clanged shut behind him, the noise echoing weirdly off the walls. As always, the space felt claustrophobic, the rise of the stairs and slope of the railing cutting visibility even further. He pushed past an instant's hesitation and started up the stairs, then found himself squashing the impulse to take them two at a time just to get up to the second floor that much sooner. In the mental list of equipment he needed or wanted, a better light source received yet another underline. In red this time.

[to here]

[from here]

He became more cautious upon entering this hallway, aware that he was more likely to encounter some kind of opponent here. Scanning the area ahead carefully, Itachi focused his every sense on detecting other presences before they attacked. The hallway he needed to go down was just to the left, but it would be wise to scan the entire hallway before exposing his back.