Well, that went well! Anise had gained herself a gorgeously handsome new friend. She just hoped that weird illness didn't get either of them killed before she could get to know him any better.

... Yeah, that was morbid. It was hard not to think about, though.

Before going to the Cafeteria, Anise made a stop at her room to grab her journal, maps, and a pen. Once she finished eating, she could get a start on copying the maps for Barnaby. He was going to be so glad he met her!

With that done, Anise made her way to the Cafeteria, where she picked up an assortment of food, making sure to get some meat, vegetables, and milk on her tray. She then sat down at a table and set her notes aside while she started on her meal. It was hard not to feel self-conscious about the rash on her arm, though the makeup she used had blended the discolored part enough that it couldn't be seen from a distance. Anise just hoped no one would come specifically looking for it.

[Ilia!]

[From here]

Whoa, it was really dark down here. Goku stopped for a second, trying to get a better bearing on his surroundings, but his eyes were just terrible. The young boy couldn't pick up more than blackness and the occasional wall when he accidentally staggered into it.

All this ickiness he blamed on the witches and their venom, but the excessive heat seemed like a new side effect. It was very distracting when you were trying to fight people off to save a corpse.

"I think--" he stared, leaning forward to get a better whiff. "--we're almost there!"

[From here]

Bursting through the stairwell, the young boy ran into the hallway with the intention to beat on something, but the sound of the intercom froze Goku in place. That voice! He knew that voice better than anyone now. A stubby hand unsheathed his red staff, wide black eyes narrowing. It seemed to come from all around him and Goku had a hard time catching up as he spun around in a dizzying circle, threatening the empty darkness.

"Show yourself, you demon! Give me back my friend!" He sniffed the air, trying to find where he was, but Landel was nowhere to be smelled. He was like some kind of evil voice wizard.

[M79]

With how many times he seemed to black out and wake up, Woody figured all of this would have been old hat by now. But fading in and out of unconsciousness -- waking up, only to wake up again, like dreams stacked on top of more dreams -- wore down on a guy after awhile. That combined with the fact he was alone only made his dread firmly sit in the pit of his stomach, like a cold, heavy brick.

In fact, he wasn't just alone in the sense of being the only toy stuck here. He was actually alone-alone. As in, he could get gobbled alive, and no one would actually know.

Yeah. That kind of alone.

"Helloooo?" Woody called as he anxiously peered out of his room. "Zero? Anyone? Hi?"

He hadn't even heard an announcement from the Head Doctor. What did that mean, anyway? If he packed up and just left him here, what was going to happen? Would he starve? Would he ever see Andy again? He couldn't go find Buzz and search for Andy like this!

"Great," Woody grumbled as he threw a paranoid look over his shoulder. Now what was he going to do? With his clothes rod and flashlight in hand, he squared his shoulders, stepped out of the door--

...and promptly pressed his body against the wall, making his way forward inch by excruciating inch.

((To here.))

Rita awakened with a gasp.

That sharp breath was promptly answered with an even sharper pain in her chest. As her awareness increased, she realized she felt similar aches and pains all over her body, along with a general chill. Wherever she was, it was freezing cold and pitch dark.

And to top it all off, she was naked. Someone was going to be in for a world of hurt for that.

A single blanket had been draped over her entire body, including her face. When she tried to pull herself up, she hit her head on a low metal ceiling and was forced to lay back down. Feeling around, there were similar metal walls all around her body. Like she was in a box, or...

What the hell happened? The last thing she remembered was fighting that brat in the arena. Was that... over? Rita groaned, a sound that echoed back to her in her metal tomb. Did she really lose to that obnoxious little runt? She was never going to live this down...

But that was supposed to be a duel to the death, and yet Rita was alive. But this... was this a coffin? And the 'blanket'... a burial cloth? Panic began to flood into her mind as a horrifying possibility occurred to her: she'd been buried alive after being erroneously declared dead.

Squirming around in her narrow prison, Rita began to kick and shove at the walls. The sound they made was a hollow one. Hollow. There was air on the other side! This was one situation where Rita was glad to be proven wrong. She just had to calm down and think rationally.

A few, more calculated kicks, and she found that she could make the floor slide and jerk beneath her. By repeating the motion, Rita soon felt air move over her feet. Whatever she was inside of, she'd opened it, if just by a crack. The movement was strange, though. Less like a box and more like a drawer. Rita pressed her less-injured arm against the ceiling and used that as leverage to push the drawer outward. Unfortunately, she only got so far as to expose her knees before another piercing pain shot through her chest, forcing her to stop.

Her injuries were severe. Rita had to take it slow if she didn’t want to aggravate them, as frustrating as that was.

[from here]

...Another empty hallway.

Chair held by both back legs - one in each hand - Murphy sighed and slumped against the wall. These stupid clothes didn't have pockets, and shoving things awkwardly in the waistband of his pants was beginning to become a pain. If this were a normal chair, like he usually found, he'd just break it apart and use one of the legs. Unfortunately, that didn't look like an option.

There was less junk lying around here, too. Practically none, now that he thought about it. Maybe...maybe he didn't need a weapon? The radio had remained silent, and there were no corpses lying around. Not even a blood trail.

He set the chair down and took the radio out, wondering if maybe it was broken. He stuck the end of the flashlight into his mouth to free his hands and allow him to investigate the piece of equipment.

Maybe this was some sort of clue....

[For Nina!]

[M58]

...Had the day passed? He was not even aware of time's passing. If one was to be honest, he did not know if he had been sedated for the course of the day, or in some sort of catatonia. He registered motion, movement, but did not see fit for those things to be his own. The day passed. Continued to pass. And Albedo let himself slip away and thought nothing. Tried to think nothing.

It was perhaps the combination of sounds. The click of the door being unlocked registered as something valid to be aware of. That, and--

That man's voice had taken on a personal note now, something of recognition in the tones. He knew this person now. He knew the appearance to match the voice, the smirks to match the schemes. And he knew--

"'Father of lies', hm? You were very right to call him dramatic, boy."

There was a beat of nothingness, and then somewhere it registered. The man was speaking to him, and what Albedo had said. How trite. A reply of such means when--

Ah. A reply to what Albedo had said last night.

The boy's eyes widened, mind dulling to stillness, and he burrowed deeper under the covers, darkness taking his sight.

[From here.]

It was only after Harvey had made his way down the first hall and moved into the next one that he realized he still had bandages covering his face. It was wrong that he was getting used to the feeling of the gauze smothering his wounds, but he had no choice when the nurses kept constant watch on him during the day. He'd been too disoriented upon waking up to rip them off the way he usually did in his room.

That wasn't about to stop him now, though. After rearranging some of the items in his hands, he pulled the bandages off with the same amount of roughness -- something that he paid for when some of the dried blood and flesh came with them.

He let out a groan of pain, but that only lasted for a split second before he let the trail of bandages fall to the floor. Seeing how he'd slept so long, it made sense that the gauze had clung to his wounds more than normal.

At least that was taken care of now. With a grunt, Harvey sent a glance around the empty hallway and then exited out through the door.

[To here.]

[From here]

Loki kept his pace purposeful as he entered the hallway, retracing steps he'd taken each of the nights before with confidence. Now he was more willing to not bother pausing, trusting his keen hearing to pick up any potential problems.

He remembered the way to the medical wing precisely, and the process would be much faster without having to play dumb for the benefit of mortals.

[To here]

[M79]

What in the world was with tonight's broadcast...? Zero felt like he should know some of the things the Head Psycho was saying, but he knew so little about the history of this place and the man running it that a few details were lost on him. Fortunately, the rest of the message was easy to understand... Unfortunately, that message was far from reassuring to hear.

A former associate of Landel who was partly responsible for the monstrosity roaming around at night... (Who? What monstrosity?) Landel was going to use this associate's findings to solve a 'little problem' of his... (What problem?) Some of the prisoners would be infected with a 'nasty bug' that would turn them into something like blood-thirsty monsters... (Why?)

Was there any way to stop this from happening...? What could be the reason for...

..... That's it. After a broadcast like that, there was no way Zero was going to take it easy tonight.

Standing up from his chair, he removed the sling from his arm and threw it onto his bed, allowing his injured arm more movement. Urgh... It hurt to move that arm around, but at least he could still bend it. He'd just have to be careful with it tonight. That done, he moved to gather his supplies - maps in one pocket, flashlight sticking out of the other, and pipe on hand.

...Mn. That pipe... Looking at it now, he could see a large dent in it from last night's battle. This weapon wasn't as sturdy as he'd thought after all...but oh well, it would still work for him right now. He'd just have to keep this observation in the back of his mind, and look for a better weapon as he explored later on.

But now, time to go. Slipping on his boots and throwing an obligatory 'be careful' at Woody, Zero went out the door and into the hallway.

[To here.]

The intercom chimed at the beginning of the hour, accompanied by the Head Doctor's pointed inflections.

"Goodness! Where did our time go? You would think a simple test would not occupy the entire..."

He trailed off, laughing nervously, the sound coming off closer to breathless from the speakers.

"Er, moving on! Our main course tonight will be fresh salmon, seasoned with the finest herbs and spices available to our kitchen staff and served on a beautiful bed of pilaf. For sides, you have your choice of steamed broccoli or roasted spring vegetables. You're also in for a real treat: Chef Woolstenhulme has prepared golden plum souffles for dessert! And let me tell you--they are simply divine. You will never have anything like it. You'd have to be insane to think otherwise."

There was an abrupt pause, as though the man realized the full extent of his inept phrase.

"...Well, eat up. I will see you at bed time."

The intercom clicked off.

_{[Awaiting a ninja.]}

Although the vampire departed from his cell as soon as he was able to, he didn’t go far. Stopping in front of Sasuke’s cell, he knocked on the door and stepped back to see who--if anyone--answered.

Spending the whole of dinner shift immersed in the scent of blood and the dissatisfaction of unfulfilled plans had decided him. At the moment, Sasuke was his strongest source of alternative information and manpower: the boy was just as hungry to get ahead of Landel’s game, just as Aidou was, and that made pooling their resources quite beneficial. It didn’t hurt that Sasuke was the only other person aside from Aigis who knew the form of his vampiric business and hadn’t made a fuss about it.

If Aidou was going to pursue certain avenues like the basement, calling on Sasuke seemed the thing to do.

There was also the matter of Landel’s threats, too, of course. During his most recent announcement, they had had a bit more severity to them than they usually did. Programs, punishments, appointments… It was the not knowing that was the most difficult thing to swallow.

[From here.]

By now, Guy had perfected the art of getting ready quickly as night arrived, and so he wasn't too shocked that he was the first patient out in the hall. The silence was something that might have bothered him in the past, but he knew there wasn't much to be scared of in this part of the building.

Granted, that sort of thinking would just result in him getting jumped by a monster if only to prove him wrong, which was why he didn't let his guard down completely. At least he could take comfort in the fact that most of the low-level monsters here would be simple to deal with now that he had a proper sword.

Monsters were honestly the least of his worries. Right now, he was mainly thinking about Ilia -- about Claude's mother -- and the trouble she was about to get herself into. There was a chance that they would have to head up to the morgue tomorrow night, if the absolute worst case scenario happened.

There wasn't much he could do until Claude arrived, though, and so Guy just kept an eye on that hallway, waiting for that familiar face to show itself.

[Waiting for Claude!]

[ROOM M73]

Dinner had been a silent affair, his roommate oddly asleep for all of it. Well, that was fine with Loki. He wasn't in the mood for pleasant conversation, not after reading the letter for a second time. He was in the mood to stab someone in the face, really.

With dinner finished, he dressed himself in the warm, thick clothing from his closet again. He left the baseball bat in place for the moment, since Soma had said she would be by with the spear. He did grab the supplies from his desk and distribute them in his pockets. He also made certain he had his coil of string.

Ready to go, he sat on the edge of his bed and waited for Soma, working on a new set of runes in his notebook to pass the time.

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.

Layton was feeling a little more confident now that he had gotten through an entire session on his own. He wasn't sure how he'd performed, but they had managed to stay on task the entire time, so that was a small victory. Improvement was gradual, and he needed to remind himself of that and take pride in the little things where he could.

He perused his next patient's file while he waited for him to show up, a Mr. Cody Wheeler, likewise suffering from a dissociative disorder. (This place seemed to be very specialized in the sorts of patients they accepted.) He had been here for a little longer than Mr. Sullivan, but not nearly long enough to have seen a therapist before, apparently. Goodness, this place was understaffed, enough so that they were willing to hire an archaeologist with nothing better to do in his spare time. The circumstances were still highly curious, since one would have thought that there would be plenty of potential therapists to hire; psychology always seemed to be a popular field of study back at the university.

Well, he'd never said that life couldn't be just as strange as fiction.

Having familiarized himself with a few relevant details regarding the man's background, Layton closed the file carefully and checked the time. He still had a few minutes. It really wouldn't hurt...with a guilty smile, he opened one of the bottom desk drawers and pulled out one of the many crossword puzzle books sitting in there, the kind that one might buy from a gas station convenience store. He had just started one the other night, and it was almost finished. Just a few more words to fill in--ah! There it was. 68 Across: Fix, in a way, as a lawn. 6 letters...

His conversation with Jesse had felt him feeling a little less numb. Nothing sensational, but he no longer caught himself zoning out at his lap or the carpet for minutes on end. Then again, it could have just been the pain killers wearing off. Either way, Ippo felt more lucid and while the tremors still paralyzed his finer motor skills, he could at least hold onto his lunch while his nurse wheeled him into the Music Room.

It was probably for the best since he couldn't play games, walk around outside, or make anything in the arts and crafts room. All you needed to listen to music, though, were two years. Actually, you really only needed one so he was beyond the minimum requirement.

In a corner of the room, Ippo was wheeled around so he got a view of the entrance in case he saw someone he knew. The woman accompanying him wrestled up a CD player for him to listen to. It was a pretty advanced model and the boxer was surprised they would hand out something so pricey to patients. Still, Ippo wasn't going to complain. he didn't listen to music all that much except to catch rhythm when he trained, but the classical music chosen was easy to listen to. He could drift in and out as he fumbled with his sack lunch. The apples were eaten first since they were easiest to pick up.

[Woody o/]

Even if he hadn't eaten much, the time to himself had helped improve Barnaby's overall state of mind. Despite the grueling insomnia that had plagued him before his arrival, he felt remarkably well rested now. Maybe he didn't agree with all of this Landel's Institute's methods, but there was no denying that he was much more stable than before.

Of course, he hadn't managed to shake the knot of unease tightening in the pit of his stomach, nor the restlessness that seized him when he thought of all of the recent revelations concerning Ouroboros, as well as his own recollections of that Christmas Eve nearly 21 years ago. Ill or not, he didn't have time to sit in a hospital right now. He needed to talk to Mr. Maverick.

Studying his bare wrist, Barnaby inwardly sighed as he stepped out of the cafeteria. Though his knee-jerk reaction earlier this morning had been to assume that someone from Apollon would get in touch with him shortly, he realized that he may not be in any state to continue with his hero work. The fact that the doctors had deemed it necessary to confiscate his PDA said more than anyone here was willing to tell him to his face.

That didn't mean they had a right to take his cell phone, though. Unfortunately, when he asked about it, his nurse thought otherwise.

"Like I said, Mr. Banks, this program doesn't allow for outside contact with friends and family except under specific circumstances," she reminded him.

"Brooks," he flatly stated.

The nurse blinked. "Excuse me?"

"My name isn't Banks," he corrected her. "It's Brooks -- Barnaby Brooks Jr." The nurse glanced down at her clipboard and nodded in understanding.

"Of course it is, dear," she said in a tone that conveyed that she was just humoring him. Barnaby's fingers curled into a fist at his side, but otherwise his face remained remarkably composed.

"I understand if you feel the need to downplay my presence due to my occupation," he spoke in slow, measured words, "but you'll have to excuse me if I find your methods extreme and, quite frankly, unnecessary." Combined with the Head Doctor's poor excuse for an announcement a few moments ago, their conversation just made Barnaby conclude that this facility was being run a bunch of incompetent morons. Barnaby had no intention of causing a scene, but he wasn't going to just roll over and let the staff treat him like a child, either.

"That said, I'd like to look at the paperwork that was signed the day I was committed here," he stated, his shoulders squared as he look his nurse right in the eye. "I should know what my rights are."

"I'm afraid I don't have the authority to do that."

"Then put me in touch with the person who does."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, either."

Frustration welled up inside Barnaby, and he took a small breath. He couldn't wait to get in touch with his attorney later. "Then what, exactly, can you do?"

The nurse smiled. "Take you to the recreational field, of course. The other male patients are there now. Wouldn't you like to make some friends?"

Barnaby folded his arms, his cool gaze falling onto a bulletin board located along the wall. "Actually, I'd rather stay in the sun room and read what's over there, if you don't mind." He didn't catch the flicker of disappointment on the nurse's face, though he wouldn't have cared much even if he had. As long as he wasn't hurting anyone or himself, they didn't have the authority to dictate how he spent every second of his time.

"We do allow patients to stay here during activity shifts, so I suppose you can do that," she said, albeit a bit reluctantly.

Barnaby nodded. "All right, then." With that, he made his way over to the bulletin and began to peruse through the notes. Perhaps he'd learn a little more about this place and how some of the other patients could even stand being here.

[For Renamon!]

[From here]

Again he paused, this time just outside the doorway. Toward the end of the hall he saw a bit of light, which probably meant that was the door to the outside. And immediately on his left was another door, open, which just lead to another hall. That was the direction he wanted, according to his memory. He took another moment to listen, but heard nothing of interest other than the vague sounds of humans moving around. Which was only to be expected, since he wasn't the only rat starting his run of the maze.

[To here]

Loki already had a vague idea of what to expect once dinner ended, and he was not disappointed. He took his time preparing, not that there was a great deal that was useful in the room. He dug the boots and the heavy coat out of the closet and put those on. He had a tendency to feel cold all the time anyway, and should there be combat they would afford slightly more protection just in case his meat shield was breached and everything else went totally awry. He took the radio and the flashlight, and rolled up the journal and tucked that into a pocket as well. He also stowed as many pens as he possibly could in the various pockets. While he didn't have much faith in using them as throwing weapons without a little magical aid, they'd do well enough for a close-range stab at something soft and unprotected if it came to that.

After mentally reviewing the maps that had been helpfully left on the bulletin board - hoping that they were accurate, though they seemed to be for at least the small part of their prison he had seen - Loki set off into the hall. It took a moment to orient himself in the dark. It was a bit more disorienting than it should have been. For the time being, he decided the flashlight would definitely be used.

He still needed to meet this Riku person, after all. It would hopefully be interesting.

[To here]