Night 18: Intercom, Midnight

[damned_intercom]

The intercom's announcement didn't begin with a hiss this time. It was a faint clicking, first faint, then louder, as if the Head Doctor's hand was underneath his desk and slowly turning a volume dial up as he rapped the tip of his pencil upon his desk's surface

Comments

[class_one]

If Shin-Ra was one thing, they were thorough. Four or five shots that successfully took him to the ground weren't enough. It didn't matter that he already had blood and dirt in his mouth; they had to make sure they got the job done. He felt the vibrations of military-issue boots coming closer, felt the dust being kicked up near him as someone skidded to a stop closeby. He heard the gun being cocked--and the way the blaring noise seemed to coincide with the way his body thrashed from the impact was almost melodic

[clone_boy]

Darman thought something about the voice on the intercom sounded a bit different tonight. He wasn't quite sure; something with the pitch sounded off, different from what he'd grown accustomed to in the few days he'd been in this prison, but it could just be a malfunction in this facility's primitive communications. At least the clone felt well rested: he'd gotten in a bit of sleep, but the click of the doors unlocking brought him instantly awake

[the_clown_king]

Sounds were filtering in through the fog of sleep. Tamaki mumbled into his pillow and waved a lazy hand at nothing, his sleep dulled mind protesting that he certainly hadn’t set his alarm for as early as it seemed. It was the weekend and he’d been out late, he wanted to sleep in just a little bit. Kyouya would be proud. But the sound continued and slowly Tamaki realized that it wasn’t his alarm clock. Or his cell phone. Or even the mansion’s doorbell. And as he realized this, other things became clear to him

[walking_complex]

Hojo couldn't recall ever having had a more pointed headache.

He sat up without opening his eyes, one hand pressing on his temple as he tried to recall exactly what had happened the day before. Perhaps that would shed some light on the situation...

Though, it had been a wholly unexciting day. He hadn't been drunk, so hangover was out of the question; that damned annoying Turk had barged into the laboratory again, preaching as always, but that annoyance had been dealt with in a rather effective way, if the scientist did say so himself. Their work would not be interrupted again.

This reflection did nothing to explain the source of his headache, though, so he opened his eyes and immediately frowned when what he saw was not at all familiar. White walls, floor, furniture... Hojo would have assumed that perhaps he'd been injured and couldn't recall but the room didn't much look like a standard hospital room. And he was wearing grey happy-face pajamas.

What the hell.With a light scowl, Hojo stood, first doing a quick search of the room