As it turns out, waking up in a sling doesn't get easier after the second night. In fact, Wichita was pretty sure the pain in her shoulder was only getting worse, enough to make her completely disregard the wardrobe change at first, and it had actually taken her a great deal of energy (and pushing from a very peppy nurse, what the hell) to get her to go down to breakfast. Today was not looking so shiny, no.

Until! She actually got down to the cafeteria, and found food, real food, waiting to be consumed. Call Wichita a woman of simple tastes, but anything that wasn't a can of diced peaches (a staple food of Zombieland) or the Blob of Who-The-Hell-Knows that she had been forced to eat here her first few days, was golden to her. Enough to actually put her in a decent mood, anyway. Sure getting around with only one arm was annoying, but this? This definitely made up for it. And so did the comfy clothes, now that she gave it some thought. Huh. Wonder what brought this all on. The whole, cheery crazy-people home vibe. Whatever.

The next shift was spent trying to sweet talk a nurse into getting her some pain killers, but naturally that ended in disappointment. She tried to play the sympathy card, which was too easy, she knew, but it didn't manage to work on the woman. What gives? Aren't nurses, especially bubbly ones, supposed to cave on that kind of thing? How was it her manipulation had no effect on these people? ... oh, right, they thought she was a psycho parent-killer. That might do it.

With the announcement of lunch, and free time, and chicken sandwiches!!!, Wichita found that it was quite easy to forgive that nurse for being a hardass. She would crack her, oh yes. She'd find her weakness and push at it until she had no choice but to give Wichita something for her shoulder. But after her free time. It was time to hit the Game Room.

God, this felt like elementary school. But better that than boot camp.

Wichita was quick to claim her place at the edge of the room, on the floor and generally out of sight, her bagged lunch in one hand and CANDYLAND!!! in the other. Listen, if they were going to force them all to walk around like toddlers, she was going to rock that status. And Candyland was a classic.

The board was all set up in front of her crossed legs, and her lunch was balanced, somehow, on both knees as she tried to figure out which color she would play as. Green, duh, always. And now to find a--

"Toronto!" Excellent. He might take some convincing, but she was sure he'd play with her. Who wouldn't wanna play with her, honestly. And sure he was kind of across the room, but this was totally appropriate to yell in order to grab his attention; "I'm challenging you to a Candyland match! Right now!" She was even pointing at him, then pointing down at the board. "It's on, Lord Licorice!"


[CALLING YOU OUT, MR. PILGRIM.]

Erika stood back to survey her work, and she had no idea why no one seemed to care.

By 'no one', she was referring to the soldiers who were on guard, who should be looking particularly anxious due to the atmosphere of this place. It didn't make sense in her mind. Someone who just took up a large chunk of the middle of the Sun Room to build a blanket fort of all things should have prompted some sort of reaction other then asking what she needed the blankets for. In the center of the room, a couch and several chairs had been stolen from the tables to make more "support" for the blanket to stretch across both. In fact, Erika was finishing up preparations for another layer of blankets to be laid out and still, she got no reaction from the soldiers. At least, not any reaction that matched with her expectations. A lack of a reaction was still a reaction, but not the one she was expecting.

Why was she going out of her way to antagonize her captors in the first place? In truth, it was because Erika was hoping to stir up some drama and suspicion after the military was stupid enough to make it blatantly obvious that they were in a tough situation regarding their little traitor. But perhaps Erika overestimated just how serious the situation was. Even so, she seemed outright disappointed and grumbled quietly to herself as she started to lay out the second blanket after stacking some more chairs up to make another wall.

"What a waste. All of this trouble and no one even wants to look at it," The ex-detective grumbled to herself, but she didn't bother dismantling what she already put up. No, it seemed more like Erika was determined to ruin someone's day and if she could annoy some people by making it more difficult to find a place to sit, then it was all the better for her. After setting the blanket in place, Erika watched the fabric settle for a moment before scowling and crawling underneath the fabric, poking her head out from underneath and glancing around again to be met with no reaction whatsoever.

Why did no one care?!

[ hay Sync it's time for a secret evil league of evil meeting get in here. ]

[from here]

Momentum carried Kirk forward even as the scene changed: snow gave way to tiled floor and the field to a row of shelves, which they all got to experience intimately as Kirk slammed into Glasses and Wichita, and the two of them slammed into an assortment of soup cans, which tumbled off the shelf and down on their heads. Being the tallest, Kirk caught the brunt of the assault, because that was really all he needed right now on top of a gunshot wound and disorientation from the sudden teleportation. "Ow, ow, ow—"

Vaguely, he was aware of how deeply unheroic this whole thing had been, just as he'd been aware of how ridiculous he probably looked to the transporter technicians after he'd gotten trounced on the drill by Romulans and nearly killed himself and Sulu after losing his 'chute. But they were alive, or so Kirk judged from the echoes of ow from beneath him, and he'd take a ridiculous rescue any day of the week over an unsuccessful one. He let the pipe drop from his fingers, where it clattered on the floor alongside the last of the rattled soup cans, and grabbed his flashlight as he stepped away from the other two. They were in some sort of pantry... he remembered storage rooms marked on the map beside the first floor kitchen. Interesting.

It appeared they were— No. Kirk turned to point his flashlight at the exit, and frowned. He thought he'd saw someone darting from the room — short, with long pale hair — but the door stood firmly closed, and he hadn't heard anyone or anything in here except Wichita and the other guy. Funny. The last time he'd been in this area, he'd been with... okay, never mind, those cans hit in the head harder than he thought. The three of them were alone. Kirk finally allowed himself to prod at his bloody arm and grimaced. The bullet had passed clean through and hadn't hit bone, but his shirt sleeve was a mess. So much for his shiny new uniform.

But as much as it hurt, he knew he'd gotten off inexplicably lucky. Wichita had probably been shot worse. Kirk clamped a hand over his wound and looked over at the other two. "Everyone in one piece?" he asked, trying for a tone of confidence.

[from here]

Stepping outside sent chills all over Brook's body for how cold it was. He'd welcomed it when there was snow for him to play with, but given the absence of the white powder this evening, Brook only shivered and crossed his arms to rub away the sensation.

"Must still be winter then," he laughed and watched as his breath condensed.

Telling what time of year it was in this place was difficult anyway, but the temperature at least gave an area for them to consider. Snow meant winter, or just nearing spring, and then the cold temperatures had to be either Winter or Fall. And since they couldn't go backwards from snowy winter to fall...

"Ah, but that would be a shock!" The place had seen stranger occurrences that Brook actually had to consider that the seasons could try to go backwards on them. At the very least, that gave him the potential for making another snow angel or having that snowball fight that he'd overlooked while in the town.

Eventually the cool of the night air overtook Brook's wild theories about weather patterns and reminded him that he shouldn't be dallying. He was supposed to be searching out his friend! Brushing his arms over once more, he turned for the door at the opposite end of the field.

[gone here]

[from here]

Whatever was happening to her, Rita was going to fix it. She could fix anything. She was a genius.

That heavy pounding in her chest, that light-headed feeling... those were just getting in the way. Rita tried to will it to stop, for her body to simply stop being anxious, but the feelings persisted. She had to hurry... Even if she didn't know what she would do to help herself, that just meant she was going to need more time to figure it out once she reached the Medical Wing.

Rita broke into a run, dashing through the hallway and around the corner.

[to here]

Well, that was interesting; being moved to a new room and injected with a Mystery Drug, all in one confusing moment. 'Interesting' being a blanket term for annoying and nerve-racking and ridiculous. It was all making her start to feel very Winona Ryder a la Girl, Interrupted. That was based on a true story, right? Kind of? Ugh. Though if she were being honest, being dosed was the first event that really, actually made this place feel like the mental institution she was being told it was. Minus being visited by not-Columbus. That was certainly brain-fuzz worthy, even with the warning.

Either way, her arm itched, and maybe that was just in her head, but she couldn't stop scratching at it. If she got some kind of rash from this crap, she was going to be livid.

Dinner wasn't so bad - at least her new roommate seemed normal, kinda - but she rolled off her bed and headed out as soon as the doors unlocked, map tucked into the side of her boot and her flashlight in hand. Oh yeah, so ready to take on the great outdoors. Because tonight she would be getting herself a bat. Monsters beware. Now that she was sure she finally had a grasp on where the hell she was going around here, she was determined to get outside and get armed.

The dinner announcement came as something utterly unexpected. Rather than Harrington's excited tones, the calm accented voice of the General drifted through the intercom speakers.

"Code 1-8. I repeat: Code 1-8. All personnel are to report to your stations. No exceptions."

The intercom clicked off, leaving no explanation behind. The staff appeared to take the words to heart, however, as evident by their thin-lipped faces and snappy tones to the slower patients. They were in an obvious hurry to get everyone back to their rooms.

For what cause, they refused to divulged.

[ Those participating in the forced drug trials, please ensure to read this lounge post before posting to dinner. Thanks! ]

Somehow, he'd managed to eat all of his food, and grudgingly, Niikura had to admit that he felt a lot better after brunch. That pink stuff tasted like crap, but it did its job, which was to keep him alive. Still...what did he have to do around here to get some food, short of raiding the kitchen at night? Not that he couldn't do that, it was just that he liked to reserve his evenings for more productive things...

...food was productive.

Niikura growled under his breath and shook his head. He really needed something to take his mind off things right now before he started daydreaming about burgers or something. Maybe a nap or...a movie sounded nice. He'd seen the suggestion box at the board, but hadn't really been in the right state of mind to answer it, too caught up with some other conversations. But really, the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Alright then, off to the Sun Room--

--or not. The soldier pushed him straight through toward one of the lobbies, calmly explaining that today, he had a visitor. The news was so stunning that Niikura couldn't find it in himself to complain until he was already sitting down in one of the chairs by himself - at which point, it was kind of useless to complain.

A visitor, huh? Had Hazama or Takasugi or someone figured out where he was? He wouldn't put it past them, although he would've liked it more if they'd managed to swoop down for the rescue a little earlier - like, say, a whole week earlier. Other than that, he couldn't think of anyone who'd actually take out the effort to visit him. Some cop? A classmate? This was almost getting nerve-wracking. Niikura's foot tapped as he stared anxiously at the door. Who was it going to be...?

Edgar's charming company had raised Anise's spirits enough that not even the Head Doctor's voice could bring them back down. Besides, she was feeling pretty sure that Landel wasn't actually around. To begin with, it wouldn't make sense, and secondly, his announcements sounded suspiciously like ones she'd already heard before. While Anise wasn't very familiar with Earth technology, she'd seen the little devices in the Music Room that could play recordings of people's voices. This had to be something like that.

It wasn't long before Anise was escorted to the Cafeteria, and then to the section where edible food was being served. As she filled her plate with waffles, fruit, and sausages, she looked to the other side of the counter with a look of sympathy. It was hard to enjoy her own meals while knowing what the other patients had to suffer through.

She wasn't about to refuse her meals just out of guilt, though. Anise needed her strength for tonight. There was still a bit of a nervous twist in her stomach whenever she thought about what could happen down in the basement... but she wasn't going to back down. Not after promising her friends they'd go together.

With her tray in hand, Anise seated herself at an empty table in the middle of the room. She preferred to have company while eating, but it looked like she was one of the first patients there, so there was no one to sit with. Maybe if she minded her manners and tried to look her cutest, she'd attract someone handsome! Holding her utensils delicately, she began to cut her waffles into smaller pieces.

[For Battler.]

As the day came to a close, Claude's conversation with Tear weighed heavily on his mind. All the implications hadn't quite sunk in yet, but it unsettled him that she'd been able to feel and experience his time in the basement in such a strong way. Was there some kind of significance behind the fact she'd lived the moment he ran toward Guy in a panic? Maybe it was because Guy was Tear's friend. Or maybe it said something about Claude himself.

He wasn't sure he'd ever move past what happened that night -- not as long as there was a chance it could happen again, and not as long as Guy's memories remained incomplete. He'd never gotten a chance to patch things up with Dias, either, and Claude supposed he'd never get the chance now.

On top of that, he hadn't seen Leon at all today.

As a result, he was in low spirits by the time he made it to the bus. He cooperated with the body search and let the staff take his batteries once the "nurse" explained he'd get his things back later. Once that was done, Claude stepped onto one of the large vehicles and took a seat.

It would have been nice to find Guy and spend the ride back talking with him, but it looked like he picked the wrong bus again. Inwardly sighing, Claude leaned back and gazed out the window.

There was so much snow outside. He still remembered all the golds, reds and oranges of the autumn leaves the first time he came here. That seemed like years ago now. What would his life be like by the time the first sprouts of spring appeared? What would happen to the rest of his friends?

He didn't know, and that scared him on days like these. That didn't mean he could let it consume him, but it was difficult to shrug off like it was nothing. At least the scenery in Doyleton gave him something different to look at...

[Free!]

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.]

Night. Bella had been in the middle of talking to Claire when suddenly the lights dimmed, finally turning off. There was a moment of silence - and suddenly, the static.

Her hand's instantly leapt up to her ears, covering them from the offensive sound. Not that it did anything, of course, but it certainly helped. Mentally. If she was trying hard to block out the sound, maybe her mind would think it was blocking out the sound. ... Right? Right. Or ... something. Bella didn't really know; her mind felt somewhat frazzled after the loud static sound. Was this how Edward always felt? She didn't really know what it was like to hear thoughts that weren't her own, but she imagined it was just like that. Static. White noise.

Speaking of.

Right. She had plans. She had to get to Edward as soon as possible. Sure, her ankle still ached, but she would be damned if she wouldn't try to run. He could scold her after. She would gladly take the verbal beating if that meant that he was by her side.

Bella moved quickly, grabbing her flashlight from under her pillow. She didn't even bother looking for her bat. It didn't matter. She would be fine.

Waving quickly to Claire, the teenager moved out the door, limping into the hall outside.