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
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The meeting with Meekins had gone well enough and Sora was glad to see that he was doing a decent job of keeping up with all of his club members. He didn't see all of them as much as he wanted to, but that was pretty much impossible. It had been a while since he'd talked to Soma face-to-face, for instance...
Then again, having Neku as a roommate made things a little easier. He hadn't gotten to team up with the other boy in a while, but he also trusted him to meet the newer members and help them out or give his opinion on them. Which was why he'd paired Neku up with Sonia tonight.
Though as Sora entered their room, he couldn't help pulling a face at the realization that Aguilar had announced something. That couldn't be good... and on top of that, his normally nice escort was on edge. He hoped that whatever was going on wouldn't ruin his plans with Kairi and Riku
( ... )
The day had gone by pretty normally, which was really... bad. That he was beginning to think of anything that went on here as normal was more than a little worrying. Still, he nodded to his roommate when he walked in, flung his beret onto the bed, then went immediately for his headphones, rather than dinner. Seriously, if he ate any more of that pink stuff he was gonna puke.
After settling the phones on his head and clicking onto one of his favorite tracks, he glanced over at Sora. They'd had things to talk about tonight, right? Mostly to do with the new wing that'd opened up on the east side of the building. Wish he'd had more time to explore it, but at least he had a rough idea.
"Any idea what that was about?" he started, nodding toward the intercom. As if the strange way the staff had hurried them all to their rooms wasn't reason enough to be suspicious.
For a moment after Neku entered, Sora thought that his roommate wasn't in the mood to talk. He completely ignored his dinner and just went to put on his headphones. Listening to music usually meant that you wanted to be left alone, right? Sora wasn't about to argue with that, since he realized that everyone needed space sometimes, but then Neku spoke up.
The boy glanced up from his plate of chicken and stared at Neku for a second before sighing. "Not really sure. It can't be good, though. We'll all have to be on guard." It was hard when they didn't know what to be looking for, but the fact that they were prepared for something to be weird at least gave them a foot up
( ... )
When did they not have to be on guard? Seriously. Neku nodded though, another reminder he needed to be careful. He'd been pretty lucky so far. None of the usual monsters or other stuff since Josh had still been here. Though when Sora started getting all emotional on him, he couldn't help looking intently at his tray of food and turning up the volume on his phones a few decibels. That was so ridiculously sappy and- and... there was no way in hell he was gonna admit that it felt kinda sorta good to hear someone say it.
"It's cool, don't worry about it. I... It's not like I have much better to do, right? And I'd rather be doing something than sitting on my ass waiting to be rescued," he stumbled on his words, trying not to look as shy and embarrassed as he felt at the moment
( ... )
The day had gone better than Peter could have expected, mainly because he'd caught up with Claire and had a very successful talk with Tear. More than that, though, he'd met someone who'd taken an offer for his help in Max, which gave him something worthwhile to do with his night.
Really, all he ever needed was that sense that he was doing something, that he was making a difference somehow. He didn't like Aguilar's presence here any more than Landel's; for Peter, nothing had really changed there. For the most part he was willing to ignore their riddles and rants and just focus on the task at hand, which was helping his fellow patient
( ... )
Unlike Peter, the day had gone the exact opposite of better than expected for Sam, and he hadn't even had that high of an expectation in the first place. Honestly? He was glad to get away from the other patients.
The curt announcement made him pause briefly at the door to look up at the intercom and then over at the soldier escorting him, but neither were very forthcoming with his answers. Sam knew better than to waste his time asking. He frowned as he walked into the room. The institute was still pretty routine, all things considered, but they were really getting a move-on with shaking crap up, weren't they.
"Hey, Peter." Sam left his dinner for now and perched on his bed instead. He hadn't been hungry since his talk with the other Peter and the food here wasn't the best for reviving his appetite.
A part of him kind of wanted to check up on the kid, truthfully. Not tonight, but...maybe in a day or so.
"So what're the chances you know what that's all about?" He gestured at the ceiling, indicating the announcement.
By this point in time, Peter had gotten pretty good at judging Sam's moods. It wasn't always that easy since Sam wasn't particularly expressive, at least not upon first entering the room, but still -- he could tell that he was tired and a bit more subdued than usual. Whether that meant that something had happened or that he was just losing momentum was harder to tell.
"Hey," he said in return, watching as his roommate completely bypassed his food and went to sit on the bed instead. Another bad sign, although that was happening more and more often now that that mush was being served. He wanted to offer up some of his own meal again; maybe Sam would actually agree to it this time.
First things first, though, and that was answering Sam's question. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to say there. "No clue," he replied with a shake of his head as he took a subtle bite of his dinner. "I can make a guess and assume that it's not good for us, though." That was more or less a given at this point, wasn't it?
Yeah, that was basically the answer Sam was expecting. Whatever it was, he hoped neither Dean nor Ruby got caught up in it. Not that he wanted anyone else to get caught up in it, either, but there was no way of avoiding that one, so...
Shit, his priorities had really narrowed, hadn't it.
He took off his beret and ran a hand through his hair to shake it loose after having it squashed under a hat all day. As soon as he did, his bangs immediately fell back into his eyes.
"That's probably a safe bet," he agreed. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he remembered the announcement last night, something he'd heard but hadn't processed. It was hard to analyze much when he was busy trying to keep even the sound of footsteps going by his door from shattering his skull to pieces. Huh. He didn't think he'd spoken to anyone who'd gone through that, though he was suddenly reminded of Castiel. He'd been so weirded out by Castiel's behavior and then spent the whole day distracted with Dean and Ruby and Peter that he hadn't asked why. Why Castiel
( ... )
Heading back to his room without an idea of what to do with the coming night was enough to grate at Harvey's nerves. It wasn't that he needed other people to direct him; no, that was hardly the problem. He could go out into the halls and do whatever he damn well pleased, but part of him didn't know if there was a point.
At the same time, he couldn't stay in his room. He'd be stuck inside his head, reliving what he'd seen the night before and more than that, Rachel's last few moments
( ... )
'Code 1-8'? What did that mean? Or, more specifically: what did that mean for them? There was no use in trying to decode the message with so little context, and as such it seemed as though he'd have to rely on either tonight's experiences or testimony tomorrow- though his attempts to gather that today had fallen astray of his targets. The uncomfortable truth was, he'd found himself back in his room after breakfast, apparently asleep. He'd woken up in time to check the bulletin board during fourth shift, but it troubled him greatly that no only was he was making so little progress, he was also starting to fall victim to one of the more insidious fates that could befall a patient here. Death by disappearance, a shadow fading by morning
( ... )
As it turned out, Lunge wasn't even giving him a moment to breathe. The moment he entered the room, the first thing that came out of his mouth was about that. Harvey had done such a good job of avoiding discussion of this topic throughout the day. He'd made mentions of it, but he hadn't had to describe it in any detail -- and he realized that he was fine with that
( ... )
A little of Lunge's tension eased as Dent forced himself upright and up against the wall. Lying prone like that, it had almost felt as though he were a therapist interviewing a patient- though looking at him now, he wondered if it wasn't worse, as though the man hadn't the strength to support himself anymore. The look he received as the remainder of the bandages peeled away, the cynical answer, said as much.
Obviously, he was reading into it too much. It didn't take careful observation and analysis to suppose how this conversation was going to go; Dent had known Jones as well as he had, probably better. As cast-iron as Dent seemed, that he'd had the wind knocked out of him by his death shouldn't have been surprising.
Lunge sat down, and forced himself to consider that he'd left his emotions standing behind him. The man at the desk was a consummate professional.
Nonetheless, he started with the easier material. For chronology.
"What happened, once you gathered the shield and sword together?"
Talking with ZEX (or Max, if he was going to go along with all that) had been bizarre. It was one thing if someone was brainwashed into fighting others, but being made to think that they were a whole different person? How was that even possible? Unfortunately, Zack couldn't think about something like that without remembering what Cloud had revealed to him, and that was enough to make his stomach tie itself in knots.
Cloud had managed that all on his own, with the help of some intense experimentation and some serious trauma. If Aguilar and his cronies had some sort of technology that could change around a person's mental state, then that made it even easier. And yet it wasn't right, to toy with a person's head like that
( ... )
The moment the shift change jingle went off, Stefan was already headed for the door, and allowed to walk the long hallways back to his room without a personal escort. Not that it made much of a difference when it came to time, what with the way the nurses were rushing everyone, but any moment he got to be free the from idle chatter or proximity of warm bodies was a moment he could use to center himself.
Code 1-8. He heard his brother's voice in his head, first wondering aloud (oh what now) then shrugging it off in the next breath (don't know, don't care so long as no one starts screwing around with my plans). In a strange masochistic way, imagining Damon there with him helped with the cravings. If ever his thoughts wandered back to blood (which they did, constantly), having even a pretend Damon taunt him about his self-control provided a cold dash of motivation
( ... )
The door opened and Stefan strode in with a certain amount of urgency, walking right past his meal to kneel down by his bed. Michael barely had the time to react, glancing up from his gruel to watch the young man. He didn't know what was wrong with Stefan or what kind of insane story he'd made up to avoid reality, but it was difficult to see people who were still so young struggling inside their own minds.
However, being called that name was something that he couldn't let go. He was getting so sick of hearing it, and he needed to correct it. "It's Michael, actually," he said firmly. He had let everyone else down a little easier, but he was tired by now. This would be the fifth time he had to explain this today, and that was if he didn't count the awkward messages he'd posted up on the bulletin board.
"Castiel was just... it was just something I made up. I'm not well, Stef
( ... )
"Huh?" Stefan shut the box again and nudged it back under the bed with one foot, letting thoughts of Katherine (and Katherine's face, and Katherine's words) go with it. On the very, very long list of things he had to worry about in this place, that was the least important of it. She wasn't here, and she wasn't going to help him protect his loved ones or get him fed tonight and under control tonight
( ... )
Comments 194
Then again, having Neku as a roommate made things a little easier. He hadn't gotten to team up with the other boy in a while, but he also trusted him to meet the newer members and help them out or give his opinion on them. Which was why he'd paired Neku up with Sonia tonight.
Though as Sora entered their room, he couldn't help pulling a face at the realization that Aguilar had announced something. That couldn't be good... and on top of that, his normally nice escort was on edge. He hoped that whatever was going on wouldn't ruin his plans with Kairi and Riku ( ... )
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After settling the phones on his head and clicking onto one of his favorite tracks, he glanced over at Sora. They'd had things to talk about tonight, right? Mostly to do with the new wing that'd opened up on the east side of the building. Wish he'd had more time to explore it, but at least he had a rough idea.
"Any idea what that was about?" he started, nodding toward the intercom. As if the strange way the staff had hurried them all to their rooms wasn't reason enough to be suspicious.
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The boy glanced up from his plate of chicken and stared at Neku for a second before sighing. "Not really sure. It can't be good, though. We'll all have to be on guard." It was hard when they didn't know what to be looking for, but the fact that they were prepared for something to be weird at least gave them a foot up ( ... )
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"It's cool, don't worry about it. I... It's not like I have much better to do, right? And I'd rather be doing something than sitting on my ass waiting to be rescued," he stumbled on his words, trying not to look as shy and embarrassed as he felt at the moment ( ... )
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Really, all he ever needed was that sense that he was doing something, that he was making a difference somehow. He didn't like Aguilar's presence here any more than Landel's; for Peter, nothing had really changed there. For the most part he was willing to ignore their riddles and rants and just focus on the task at hand, which was helping his fellow patient ( ... )
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The curt announcement made him pause briefly at the door to look up at the intercom and then over at the soldier escorting him, but neither were very forthcoming with his answers. Sam knew better than to waste his time asking. He frowned as he walked into the room. The institute was still pretty routine, all things considered, but they were really getting a move-on with shaking crap up, weren't they.
"Hey, Peter." Sam left his dinner for now and perched on his bed instead. He hadn't been hungry since his talk with the other Peter and the food here wasn't the best for reviving his appetite.
A part of him kind of wanted to check up on the kid, truthfully. Not tonight, but...maybe in a day or so.
"So what're the chances you know what that's all about?" He gestured at the ceiling, indicating the announcement.
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"Hey," he said in return, watching as his roommate completely bypassed his food and went to sit on the bed instead. Another bad sign, although that was happening more and more often now that that mush was being served. He wanted to offer up some of his own meal again; maybe Sam would actually agree to it this time.
First things first, though, and that was answering Sam's question. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to say there. "No clue," he replied with a shake of his head as he took a subtle bite of his dinner. "I can make a guess and assume that it's not good for us, though." That was more or less a given at this point, wasn't it?
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Shit, his priorities had really narrowed, hadn't it.
He took off his beret and ran a hand through his hair to shake it loose after having it squashed under a hat all day. As soon as he did, his bangs immediately fell back into his eyes.
"That's probably a safe bet," he agreed. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he remembered the announcement last night, something he'd heard but hadn't processed. It was hard to analyze much when he was busy trying to keep even the sound of footsteps going by his door from shattering his skull to pieces. Huh. He didn't think he'd spoken to anyone who'd gone through that, though he was suddenly reminded of Castiel. He'd been so weirded out by Castiel's behavior and then spent the whole day distracted with Dean and Ruby and Peter that he hadn't asked why. Why Castiel ( ... )
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At the same time, he couldn't stay in his room. He'd be stuck inside his head, reliving what he'd seen the night before and more than that, Rachel's last few moments ( ... )
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Obviously, he was reading into it too much. It didn't take careful observation and analysis to suppose how this conversation was going to go; Dent had known Jones as well as he had, probably better. As cast-iron as Dent seemed, that he'd had the wind knocked out of him by his death shouldn't have been surprising.
Lunge sat down, and forced himself to consider that he'd left his emotions standing behind him. The man at the desk was a consummate professional.
Nonetheless, he started with the easier material. For chronology.
"What happened, once you gathered the shield and sword together?"
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Cloud had managed that all on his own, with the help of some intense experimentation and some serious trauma. If Aguilar and his cronies had some sort of technology that could change around a person's mental state, then that made it even easier. And yet it wasn't right, to toy with a person's head like that ( ... )
Reply
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Code 1-8. He heard his brother's voice in his head, first wondering aloud (oh what now) then shrugging it off in the next breath (don't know, don't care so long as no one starts screwing around with my plans). In a strange masochistic way, imagining Damon there with him helped with the cravings. If ever his thoughts wandered back to blood (which they did, constantly), having even a pretend Damon taunt him about his self-control provided a cold dash of motivation ( ... )
Reply
However, being called that name was something that he couldn't let go. He was getting so sick of hearing it, and he needed to correct it. "It's Michael, actually," he said firmly. He had let everyone else down a little easier, but he was tired by now. This would be the fifth time he had to explain this today, and that was if he didn't count the awkward messages he'd posted up on the bulletin board.
"Castiel was just... it was just something I made up. I'm not well, Stef ( ... )
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