Scar possibly couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect of being escorted to the library. He had visited this particular room plenty of times to know that it was entirely useless and uninteresting - like most daytime activities, for that matter. Still, the nurse seemed rather convinced he'd like one of those silly books filled with papers and papers of those silly symbols he could suddenly understand for reasons that still puzzled him. These symbols didn't quite tell him anything interesting either; if he'd wanted a silly story he'd listen to that senile baboon back home. Instead, he felt like he was particularly mocked with this activity. He had been blinded last night, only to be dragged over to something that required his eyesight as soon as it had returned.

Not caring whether he was taking the situation way too personal, the former lion opted for glaring to the spine of a book - with words reading 'Lolita' (whatever that may have meant) along with a name he didn't care the slightest bit about - as if everything had been its fault. The truth was that Scar was this close to snapping, and though breakfast had been a welcome distraction it hardly did anything to defuse his frustration and anger.

Especially because he had no idea when something like that would happen again. Or what else they had been doing to his head...

[For Naraku!]

[from here.]

Here was that right turn. About the only place Logan could get to with no confusion was the bulletin board, and by extension the cafeteria: straight down the hall, take two lefts. Once he got there, there was a possibility that he'd get held up - a handful of people had all said the same thing: trying to go through that room at night was a bad idea.

Well, it was a good idea; it just also happened to be dangerous. It sounded like the crew that'd tried to hit the basement last night had gotten held up, and there was nowhere else that could happen. There were two doors in the cafeteria that indicated there was some other way to get in, but Logan had no idea what that was. There was a door way behind him, but that was the wrong direction. With any luck, Kurt would have an idea.

With his luck, both doors led to goddamn broom closets.

[To here.]

[From here.]

Walking through the darkness, Sechs reluctantly admitted to himself that going alone to somewhere dangerous as the second floor with his condition wasn't exactly the smartest idea in the world. Heck, he could easily picture Kibitoshin having some spectacular fret fest if he knew about what Sechs was doing right then! Still, whatever he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right? Sechs intended on reaching his goal without interruptions and surviving in the process. Besides, he had two weapons and (most of) his battle suit to protect him! Sechs wanted to believe that his white-haired friend wouldn't have to worry; it was thanks to him that Sechs could muster up the confidence to approach the second floor again in the first place...

The liquid parasite in Sechs' spine wasn't so keen on his plan though. "Trying to find that Original of yours is nothing but a suicide mission!" it snarled in Sechs' head, "Why don't you just get it over with now and take that machete of yours and impale yourself on it again like what you did the first time we met!"

Ignoring the drug's scathing taunts and the unpleasant memory it brought up, Sechs shook his head and moved on.

Ignore it... Ignore it... Not yet...

[To here.]

[From here.]

Locke made a point to be as careful and quiet as possible, looking past the hallway to make sure no one else was trailing him. Well, anyone with hostile intent, anyway. Once the cost was clear, he stepped quietly into the hallway, prioritizing in the most rational way as possible. He didn't have a weapon to protect himself with, nor much of anything else but a makeshift (and probably terrible) pick, just in case. Along with the other supplies that he had picked up from his room, Locke found that he didn't have much to work with at all.

His first priority was to get out of here; barring that, to find a weapon. Simple enough, right? Seeing a door on one end, and one just across the hallway, Locke took a chance with his luck and pushed the door in front of him open as he checked the room. A... bathroom. Maybe he'd check here more thoroughly at a later point in time, but right now, he was looking for a way out. He wanted to focus on the big picture, and focus on the details later.

"Not creepy at all," he murmured to himself as he let the door shut, and looked towards the other door, just a couple of steps beyond him.

It was the same with the other visible hallways, as well. As he made his way towards the other door, all he saw were rooms, just as identical as the one he came from, but no doors beyond that. At least... there was a path to take, he figured, feigning optimism.

[To here.]

He hadn't expected to see a note to him from anyone other than his commanding officers. He'd caught the bulletin (from Dean, wasn't it?) addressed to him before the dinner shift. McCoy remembered him well enough. Rough looking kid, thought he could practice some medicine with nothing but a belt and dirty jacket, but generally had his heart in the right place. Now what was this about a gift basket?

He was prepared to turn down whatever it was anyhow. McCoy wasn't one to go on making a fuss. He was doing his job, and it wasn't for any reward or payment. He couldn't just ignore wounded, especially one that had partially resulted because of Spock's logic. There was only so far Spock could argue him down until he planted his feet and dragged them for all they were worth. Curiosity, however, was enough to make him consider going. He could check again with Dean about that friend of is, see how she was holding up.

A short stop wouldn't hurt too much in terms of time. They had their own assignments, but he didn't think it would take all that long. The doctor drew out first aid kit from the closet and opened it. He felt around for the partial map, and spreading it open on the bed, scanned it. It didn't take long to find Dean's room. M2 didn't look too out of the way.

The doctor packed up quickly and left.

[to here]

"Well, that's it for today's activities and hygiene!" The Head Doctor said with a jovial tone just after the sound system's jingle. He seemed excited and maybe even giddy. "Our nurses will now be escorting everyone back to their rooms, and some of you might find that you have brand new roommates to share your dinner with! That's right: we've gotten a whole new batch of patients, and I hope you all are as well behaved with them as you have – ...well, as most of you have been with our staff. Because of this good behavior, I'd like to remind everyone that they may stop at the Arts & Crafts room to bring their origami figures back to their room and decorate as much as they like!

"In any case, our dinner tonight will be herb chicken – breast and wing or leg and thigh, whichever you prefer – served with hot – well, not too hot – vegetable soup, caesar salad, and lightly fried rose potatoes. Our usual drinks are available, as well as alternatives for special diets, and dessert will be a delicious caramel apple.

"I believe that's all for now. Goodbye, everyone!"

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. ANY NEWLY ACCEPTED CHARACTERS MAY POST TO THIS SHIFT (but are not obligated to if you would like to wait for Nightshift or Dayshift); please refer to the new room assignments before posting. Thank you! ]

[From here]

Of course. Yet another of his suggestions unheeded. The instant that von Karma entered the Sun Room, he nearly tripped over one of those blasted cats that tried to knead its head against his leg. Since the nurse's watchful eye was upon him, he nudged his foot against the furry nuisance to move it aside so that he could make his way to the bulletin board.

Hmm. It appeared that Franziska had already found his report and taken it down, even though he hadn't seen her at all today so far. It was just as well. He wasn't eager to even look at her, let alone speak to her. As for his note to Ms. Taura... no response yet. He frowned. There was no notice from the damned History Club offering assignments, so she couldn't have accepted one already. It was imperative that he get an answer regarding his own mission as soon as possible; he would ask the nurse about "Ms. Jackson" should he receive no response by the end of the day.

Two notes caught his attention, both from Ms. Ema Skye. One of them, in particular... so she had connections to Mr. Javert, did she? von Karma would have to keep an eye on this discussion; his name had better not come up in it.

After he was finished perusing the board and finding little of use so far, he found a secluded table in the corner and sat there, hoping that no one would disturb him.

[Mello]

Somehow, after their talk in the chapel, Elaine felt simultaneously more accepting of and more irritated by her future husband. On the one hand, seven years had clearly been good to him. He seemed more sincere and thoughtful than he had been before his disappearance, and he had a more mature (dare she say, handsome?) look to him. On the other hand, there were clearly some things that made even time throw up its hands in vain and say, "To hell with this!" Guybrush was still inexorably prone to disastrous accidents if the story about the Pox of LeChuck was anything to go by, and he was so obviously keeping something important from her that any passing dolt in the Institute would have been able to tell. In the end, that eternal underlying sweetness of his that won out, keeping her from punching him again, at least. That was only by a hairs width, though. Her snugglecakes was going to have to stay on his best behaviour if he knew what was good for him.

She left the Mighty Pirate™ alone for the time being when the announcement of the next shift went off. He would want some time to catch up with Morgan next, presumably. As much as the woman's attitude bothered her, she was a friend of Guybrush's, as she had claimed. Elaine could be strict, but she wasn't the kind of shrewish future wife/past fiancé who would keep her man from seeing his friends. Besides, she needed some more time to catch up on the goings-on of the Institute. Patients filled the building to the brim, now, it seemed; there would be a lot to investigate.

After a few quick trips back and forth to the bulletin and a few new leads to follow up on, the governor gave in to her nurse's persistent nagging and headed to the cafeteria for brunch. After the relatively light fare of the day before, Elaine took advantage of the Institute's admittedly scrumptious offerings and loaded up a full, balanced brunchfast of eggs, sausage links, waffles, and vegetable soup. As expected, the selection of drinks did not offer either root beer or grog. Grog she could live without, at least, she thought while making a face. Eugh. For now, she settled for a tall glass of water.

Elaine settled into a seat in the cafeteria and tucked into her meal. Her eyes didn't stay on her food, though, instead gazing around restlessly; she hadn't seen LeChuck so far this morning, and god forbid he wanted to invite himself to brunch with her if he chose now to show up. A certain horribly unpleasant dinner on Mêlée Island came to mind. She was prepared to either move at the first sign of the dread pirate or signal a random stranger to sit with her before he could.

[For Dean]

The last thing Claude heard was the Head Doctor's voice faintly filtering into the corridors of the ship before he found himself tucked beneath the sheets of his bed. It took a moment to register he'd even changed locations, but then he he abruptly sat up, fought the wave of nausea that washed over him, and felt the blankets beneath his fingers. The room. He was back in his room now. Under different circumstances, he might have wondered if last night had been some horrid dream, but the sharp pain in his eyes gave him a rude awakening. Hissing through his teeth, Claude buried the heels of his palms against his lids, only to discover two cold compresses had been taped over them.

"Good morning, Thomas," he heard the nurse's cheerful voice from beside his bed. Her sudden presence nearly made him jump out of his skin, and he sharply turned toward the source of the greeting, heart beating rapidly in his chest. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well today, but hopefully you can still enjoy some of the activities we have planned."

'Not feeling well' was a bit of an understatement. His hand hurt, his stomach kept turning with every movement, and it felt like someone had dumped a bunch of sand into both eye sockets. Right now, Claude just wanted the nurse to leave him be, but it didn't look like that was an option. Taking his uninjured hand, she gently tugged him out of bed, despite his protests that, no, really, he just wanted to stay in and sleep, please.

"I think getting out of your room a little bit will do you good," she told him. "I'm sorry your eyes are probably hurting, though. If you're ever feeling uncomfortable, don't hesitate to ask one of us for some pills."

"What about eye drops?" Claude asked tightly.

"Oh, no, too much of that could damage your eyes," she cautioned, and the sheer irony of the situation hit Claude so hard that it would have been laughable if he didn't already feel like crying right then. The nurse was as oblivious to it as always, however. "I know you usually go into the chapel during this shift. Would you like to go there again?" Claude didn't answered immediately, but that didn't deter the nurse. "Yes, I think that sounds best..."

In truth, he probably should have requested the sun room -- it was closer, for one, which meant the nurse didn't have to lead him as far of a distance. For another, lying down on one of their sofas sounded like a good option. But by the time Claude came to that conclusion, he was too stubborn to say anything, and he made his way up to the second floor, his footing slow, but steady.

The nurse deposited him on one of the central pews, next to the aisle, before leaving him to himself. Thankfully, it was still early in the shift. As he paused to listen, the room was mostly silent, save for the footsteps and hushed voices of the occasional staff member or patient who trickled in. But it was probably only a matter of time before others came. For some reason, the thought of being stuck in a crowded room made him tense, not necessarily because he thought anyone would pay him any mind, but because he simply didn't want it right then.

Somehow, the full implications of what happened last night hadn't sunken in: experiments, healing himself, the issue of whether he could actually go home after this, not being able to see, the ship, father. Instead, he just felt saturated with all of it, paralyzed by the horror of what they'd done to him, and the uncertainty of what it all meant beyond this moment. Claude took a shuddering breath, uninjured hand balling into a fist in his lap.

[For Guy.]

[Stumbling in from here.]

The knob turned and Sechs pushed the door open. As he exited through, the Replica bowed his head, expecting the thunderous weather outside to greet him with an instant downpour of rain. Instead, a brief sensation of falling startled Sechs before he felt his mind crash into an impossible set of new senses--

"Wha--?"

He didn't find himself within the soaking darkness of the recreational field, but instead he had somehow stumbled into a near pitch black room...?! Blinking almost comically, Sechs' vision scrambled to catch up with the new layer of darkness. The surprised android jerked his head around in every direction his neck would allow. His wolfish eyes nearly bulged as they took in the new room, but his brain was a few seconds late to catch up on all the new data. So far he could spot only a few chairs and tables about, nothing terribly interesting. Was this some kind of office? But weren't they going outside just a second ago?!

There didn't seem to be any danger in the small room either, but the Replica's brain was still reeling from the abrupt change of environment, sending his bewildered system into high alert. Once his senses got a firm enough grip on what just happened, Sechs could only determine that for some crazed reason, he had just ended up inside some room instead of the recreational field outside.

He could really have cared less for that particular conclusion.

"Alright!" Sechs snarled, his eyes still darting around for a more sensible answer. "What gives here?!"

Then a chilling thought came to mind. Shit! What if this was just the drug screwing around with him again?! Sechs couldn't see the usual living shadows swirling throughout his vision yet, but he could never be sure... Not moving from the spot, Sechs checked over his shoulder to see if Forte had ended up in the impossible room as well. It was the only way Sechs could think of to discern if this was all just in his head or something else...

"Forte...?"

[from here]

An average man in good shape can run about ten miles an hour. Logan was not aware of this, but that was how fast his bike was going. Something had caught his eye on the road ahead, and he'd slowed way down to avoid slamming into anything potentially huge; and then, as he was veering toward the side of the road to get a closer look, the feeling of standing on the edge of an abyss and looking down washed over him.

And then, at the speed of a flat-out run, he'd crashed.

He stayed where he was for a full ten seconds, half-buried in - what? Debris? Pieces of the bike? He definitely hadn't been going that fast, and damn it, the road had been empty. He shifted and sat up, and the debris, or whatever, shifted with him. It sounded suspiciously like aluminum cans.

Pitch black, clearly an indoor space, and - what the hell was crunchy under his hand?

Cereal.

It was a goddamn pantry. And his ribs hurt. He could've invented a small journal's worth of new and creative words for the situation and whoever thought it was funny to jerk people around like this, but instead he said: "You okay?"

[from here]

At first it was hard to figure out what had happened. Vertigo, a sense of displacement - Logan steadied himself with a step forward. It was still dark, but something had changed.

That had been the sound of a boot heel on wooden boards. It smelled like pine trees and dust, and his flashlight drifted over familiar walls half a second after he put it all together: Canada. Crickets in the grass, bike parked outside, beer in the fridge, Canada.

There would be a battery-powered camping lantern on the left, on top of a bookcase he'd cut himself. He brushed the dust off it and flipped it on - still worked. The cabin, with all its faded books and taxidermy and cobwebbed corners, looked just like he'd left it, and compared to where he'd been, it looked better than ever. Maybe better than anything.

"I'll be damned," he said, looking down at his boots to make sure they were really there. He'd left Pete and Kurt in the nightmare psych ward, but it was hard to worry about that right this second. He'd somehow won the right place at the right time award, and he was going to use that chair he'd fallen asleep in for firewood (no sense taking chances, and he was in the mood to burn something). He had had to talk to Cyke, and then Hank - but first things first.

"Where you from?" He glanced back at Tifa as he moved toward the table in the center of the room; his communicator was there (cell phone, too; shouldn't need it, but there it was). Wait - he paused suddenly and turned back, frowning at her clothes. Why the hell was he the only one dressed normally?

[from here]

"... tall, dark and handsome only goes so far, you know?" Donna ended with a grin as she stepped foot into the Entryway.

Entryway?

There were cars in the Entryway. Cars... no heaps. Of junk. And windows all around them, some shattered and definitely larger than any outside of the Sun Room. Also rain, both easily seen and heard, pounding on the roof and windows where not broken. Donna blinked at what she saw, pointed, then let her arm fall to her side when a flash of lightning illuminated the place for her to see. Yup, there was no denying it now. She was seeing what she thought she was.

But some part of her was still in denial. Slowly, Donna paralleled her index fingers before her, looking at them as though the left was "point A" and the right "point B". After staring a moment she began moving "point B" in circles to get a better picture in her head. Because she just could not get her mind around how the Center Hallway led not to the Entryway, but to what she thought was some kind of auto garage. Additional visuals were a must here.

A round of thunder and a secondary flash of lightning and Donna was able to drop her hands once more and huff. "Yeah, all right, I get it," she hissed and looked back at Ludwig, "This? Not normal. By a long shot. We should be in the Entryway, but it doesn't seem like the building wants to cooperate with that tonight!" she explained, emphasizing specific syllables as she kicked out a pile of scrap near her. Oh this, this was aggravating! All those nights of smooth sailing, doors going where they were supposed to go, etc. and now this? Someone would be answering for it! Once Donna tracked the man down.

[From here]

"...What?"

The door slammed shut behind them and locked with a rather distinctive click. The Doctor glanced back at the door—which was very different on this side than it had been on that side—but it wasn't the slam or the door that ended up grabbing the Doctor's attention. There was a loud rumbling that did not, he was quite positive, have anything to do with the thunder that they would have heard more clearly outside. Nor was it a sound that would have come from any construction work, had he and Dean stumbled across it. No, this was different.

"What?"

Following that hall, they should have exited the building into the field. It should led have outside, should have been raining. But in here—inside here—well... that definitely wasn't rain.

Not rainwater, at least. It rather appeared to be raining boulders in the room.

"What."

[From here.]

Upon stepping through the door, Zack had suddenly felt kind of dizzy, almost like the floor was falling out on him. He didn't know what that was about, but he didn't even get the chance to try and come up with a reason for it, since the next thing he knew he was being overwhelmed by a whole new set of sensations. First of all, he was very much not in a file room. His stomach lurched as his body was tossed violently, and he was overtaken by a jarring pain as his side connected with the railing of--

An airship?! That explained the movement, and when Zack turned his head slightly, he realized that it was airborne. Solid ground was way, way down there. "Whoooa," he yelped as he pulled himself away from the edge of the deck. He stumbled forward and that was when the rest of it connected: first of all, he had a burst of energy that made it pretty clear that he was back in tip-top shape. The mako was working, unhindered by the institute. (Big guess as to why!) Secondly, he was back in his First Class uniform and had none other than the Buster Sword strapped to his back.

He glanced over to Cloud and Yuffie, who were nearby and also back in their normal clothing -- or what was normal for them in their time, at least. Wait a second; why was Cloud wearing...? Oh, it didn't matter now!

"What the hell just happened?!" he blurted out, fighting to keep his balance as the airship jerked around unpredictably. They were home, that much was clear. This was the Highwind he'd seen docked in Junon, but he'd certainly never been on it himself. Hopefully either Cloud or Yuffie could shed some light on the situation, since he was at a complete loss.

[From here]

As far as Yuffie could remember, the journey was a straight shot over to the central section of the main hallway; that'd put 'em directly across from the sun room, and then it'd be a quick right turn into the only door. Easy peasy. With her shuriken and the two SOLDIER dudes—Cloud totally still counted, only not—in tow, the little ninja led the way through the doom n' gloom.

Past the stairs, past the waiting room. There we go. "It's just through here," Yuffie said when they were close enough. "We'll be in the entry room. There's two file rooms, one on the left, one on the right."

[from here]

Kurogane couldn't tell how long it would be before he would begin seeing other patients about, however if the hallways continued to be empty for too long he would have to start becoming suspicious. There was no chance that he was the only patient in the place, yet the moment the thought crossed his mind, he couldn't ignore the potential that the building had for messing with them. Whatever magic was involved here could manage something that could make it seem like there wasn't anyone else around.

He was overthinking things now. Anywhere else and he'd have been able to handle things like this, but not here. Landel had managed too much. Had Kurogane not wanted to kill the bastard, he might have commended the guy for it. Maybe.

[gone here]

Although the trip was longer than usual on account of the rain and wind, the buses did eventually – and safely – reach Landel's Institute. No strange happenings yet; the patients were escorted off the buses according to the usual protocol and made to go to their rooms and change back into their normal uniforms while the nurses temporarily left them to retrieve their dinners and, in some cases, new roommates.

It wasn't long before the Head Doctor made one of his usual announcements:

"Welcome back, everyone! I regret I was unable to join you on your foray today, but you'll soon find that we had some new guests to attend to in your absence! And now, for your dinner: lamb curry, spicy, but served with naan and mildly seasoned steamed vegetables for anyone who might have a sensitive tongue! For dessert, we'll be serving each patient a slice of banana cream pie, and our usual drinks and dietary alternatives are available.

"I'm hoping you all didn't get too wet, and hopefully the hot dinner will warm you up in no time. Nurses, please escort our newer patients to their new rooms, and everybody, I'll speak to you again soon!"

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. ]

[ Continued from here. ]

The damn burger place was actually the last place Haseo would have wanted to revisit after the previous week, but there was little other choice when practically dragging the distraught Endrance along with him and trying to find an appropriate shelter: he couldn't be certain anywhere else close would have somewhere to sit down, and the only other place he'd actually been inside of - the grocery store - had been somewhere Endrance had also been in when the town had been full of zombies.

This was where Haseo had been with Leon and Kibitoshin when the nightmare started, but... well, he couldn't remember if he'd ever mentioned that particular piece of information to Endrance or not, and at the moment going somewhere that wasn't as bad to Endrance, even if it was more unsettling to Haseo, was more important. Most of the places were enough to make Haseo feel secretly sick to his stomach anyway.

Hurrying through the door, he immediately guided the Blade Brandier to the side, behind a dividing booth and by a window sporting a display that mostly blocked it. He couldn't keep from staring around a bit (was that chair over there the one he'd used as a weapon?), and his mind was strangely blank, but he'd gotten alright at doing things without thinking. If only that could work all the time.

"Sit," he said seriously, and made to do the same.

Once she'd found she wasn't in any danger whatsoever of hopping aboard the Pukemobile, Yuffie had gotten kinda peckish. She'd ditched the bagged breakfast ages ago, way back on the bus, and, haha, like hell was she trekking back over that way to get it. Too much to see in a town without a lot in it.

So, here she was. Sitting at a plastic table in a plastic chair, in the almost completely plastic 'Tasty Burger', with fries, chicken strips, and a banana shake to wash it down with. Yuffie wrinkled her nose, more put off by the Eastern-style 'meal' than the reproachful stares of the staff and patrons. The latter she was way, way more than used to. Came with the job description. All of the job descriptions.

"Should've gone to the Twin Pine," Yuffie muttered around the (plastic!) straw, slumping forward onto her damp, denim-clad elbows. Taking a long pull of vaguely banana-flavored gloop, she cast a deft, if bored, eye around the establishment. As always, she'd gone for the most strategic seat; one that let her see as much as possible, without cutting off her access to at least one viable escape route. Not that she wanted to look at the place. Eurgh.

It was still hard to reconcile how this place should have looked with how it did look. Quick repair jobs were one thing, but something about the set-up rubbed Yuffie the wrong way. It was the same the whole town over. Chips, here and there, cracks in windows and doodles on walls. But no scorch marks, no sign that there'd been a no-holds-barred battle tearing up the place from top to bottom. The residents were pissy and suspicious, but not in that way—not in a way that'd suggest they remembered what they'd done, what they'd turned into, and what the patients had done in return.

[Cloud and Nanaki~.]