DAY 59: CAFETERIA

[touchedgod]

Billy surfaced into wakefulness. Sleep receded like an inky tide, and it didn't say anything to him before it was gone. His dreams had been nothing but the sensation of water, rocking him restlessly in his bottle. There seemed to be an ocean beyond his confines, but he couldn't see it and couldn't reach it. He pawed at the glass, but any progress

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[witchdetective]

Night always ended whenever Erika thought she was getting things done for once, so it always left her feeling cranky in the morning. However, this morning, it was difficult to feel cranky when she realized that she was still "alive", at least meaning that the drug she was injected with had been non-lethal. Not that she had to worry too much if she "died", seeing as how it happened once before, but a piece that died one too many times wouldn't appear to be too useful. Besides, if she were to be thrown off this board... only hell waited for her. Needless to say, Erika was not interested in repeating that experience too soon

[falseblack]

Chasing a ghost resulted in a fruitless venture, the form of Rika slipping away to the ceiling before Nigredo had a chance to observe. A bemused child had fixed his gaze for minutes longer, unaware of the fact that his companions were about to head into the darkened chamber. Unaware until too late, the creak of doors drawing his attention to the present. In a brief moment of panic, he had sprinted for the other side and prayed to whatever god, fate, or luck that they weren't stupid enough to touch

[witchdetective]

Despite her highly agitated state, Erika was still very sensitive to her surroundings, so she definitely heard it. And she recognized that voice too, one that brushed her off as soon as he recognized her. Because Erika was agitated, she could only interpret his actions in one way: That he was disregarding someone who was supposed to be dead. Had he done this but a day earlier, she would have been too tired and moody to deal with him; after making progress last night, she could not stand yet another blow to her ego. Unfortunately for the boy, Erika marched right up to him, intent on ruining his quiet morning once and for all.

"Yes, you must be, because I don't remember asking you anything..." Erika trailed off, noting something odd about this boy's appearance. Namely, how it was not exactly like hers. "Wait... your beret... Why are you allowed to keep it off?!"

Why... why was it that this boy, who didn't even fight in the Coliseum, was given privileges above hers? Was it because he had more pins then her, if he did? or his rank? Now

[falseblack]

The dead girl marched up to his personal space before he had a chance to flee, further cementing the possibility that she was not as dead as original thought. Nigredo glanced back in her direction, noting how perfectly tangible she seemed, before turning to regard her fully. What had Albedo said before? "It's safe to say the area of the basement exists separately from the rest of this dimension." A death there did not apply to the institute itself.

Nigredo believed it, then. That theory explained two impossible occurrences, each having to do with the revival of the dead. Unfortunately, that meant Erika (That had been the name, right?) was, in truth, very much alive and not a product of mental instability. He frowned, opening his mouth to address her point.

Only to be sidetracked by an odd question. "Oh, that," said Nigredo. "I'm allowed because I have three pins." What? Did the lack of a beret seriously bother her, or was it the fact that he could do something she couldn't? Weirdo. The boy shook his head and continued, "More

[scalyfishman]

Depth Charge sat at the table, pushed his tray away and put his head in his hands in some futile attempt to compress the pounding in his skull to a minimum between his palms.

Urgh. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. If he'd had his own way he'd have been out all nice, one aural receiver trained to his radio and the other to the intercom for any news about their mission- the men he and the Scarecrow had left behind hadn't exactly given the game away. He wasn't even letting Harrington's voice catch him out- for all he knew, that was a pre-recording designed to screw with his head or keep things quiet. There was just no way of telling anymore

[toxicspiderman]

S.T. woke out of blurry dreams involving being interviewed while doggie-paddling in a shoreless lake of beer (unlike seawater and popular belief, it would keep a person reasonably hydrated). Somehow confiscating the mike and threatening to drown it unless the guy gave him a lift to somewhere with a floor hadn't occurred to him. This room had one, so he got out of bed. He put on a fresh shirt for good measure, since this one felt -- and smelled -- like the normal sleep hypotonia had worn off early enough for him to have paddled the length of his bed a few times

[scalyfishman]

Depth Charge heard the chair move and felt the little thump run through the table as S.T. sat down before he saw it, and even then he didn't lift his head entirely. He was pretty sure how he must have looked: sallow, bleary, and no doubt with those heavy dark circles he'd seen under everyone else's eyes here made all the more pronounced. Wasn't his fault that humans couldn't recharge properly- all it'd have taken in his usual body was a round in the CR chamber and he'd have been fresh as a daisy, psychological trauma or no psychological trauma, but apparently this body was just too delicate for that.

Finally he forced his chin up off of his hands. S.T. wasn't exactly the worst thing that could have happened to him this morning. Truthfully, he was kind of grateful to see him; they hadn't spoken since the coliseum. "Something is worth something here?" he answered flatly, raising an eyebrow. "I'll believe that when I see it

[toxicspiderman]

Crap. Depth Charge looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and then S.T. went and ran his mouth off. At least it was for a good cause.

Might have been too much before his nonexistent first cup of coffee or motor oil or whatever. D.C.'s brain might be all-natural organic neurons, but he could still see it overload and then short out. Maybe it was easier to believe when it had happened to you. S.T. couldn't remember if D.C. had said anything about being part of that bad trip of a night.

"Do robots even die? Can't you just, like, download yourself into a shiny new chassis with twice the memory every few years?" Obviously not, or he wouldn't be freaking out over Indiana's resurrection, but that didn't explain why.

[deathandgin]

Shit.

When Alaric opened his eyes and stared at the bleach-white of the ceiling, his hand dug into the covers tangled underneath him. There was nothing wet on his hand anymore, drying and sticking his fingers together. His other hand was still with fresh bandages wrapped around where he'd sliced it open. Both injection sites had new gauze tied around them.

Shit.

There was no wanting it to be a dream. Alaric wasn't adverse to killing vampires - obviously. He'd done it a number of times. However, he wasn't... pseudo-friends with the vampires he tried to kill. And he also wasn't forced into wanting to kill them.

Anyone on the outside looking in on his life would see Alaric had plenty of reasons to want to rid the world of Damon Salvatore. Good riddance and all that. However, it was important to note that Alaric, for whatever reason (he still hadn't figured it out himself, honestly) did not want to kill him. Anymore. After the failed attempt, he'd considered trying again. Sure, he'd probably die again. Still worth it. But over time

[saviored]

Going from having a knife put through him to an insistent tap on his shoulder was not the most pleasant waking experience. He grabbed the hand in his face and bolted upright without thinking-and immediately let go as he doubled over against the white hot flare.

Son of a bitch. He was going to kill him. Again. With the ring off this time.

Except maybe not, he thought as he brushed past the soldier. He was well aware Alaric had plenty of reasons to want him dead. He was equally aware that Alaric had done everything but act on them. Including while they were here, where Damon could no longer snap his spine in a breath. Last night was an...anomaly. Obviously a case of whatever had been slipped into their respective bloodstreams, probably stirring up old...resentments that Rick had mostly gotten over. Mostly

[deathandgin]

If he was ever likely to have a heart attack, that moment was... now. No? Good, still alive.

That wasn't to say he didn't completely jump out of his fucking skin. See, this thing was complicated. Alaric had, at one point, spent two years of his life trying to kill Damon. That was when he was thoroughly convinced vampires were nothing but monsters. Could you blame him? Even research hadn't exactly disputed that point. Even if he generally didn't like them, there were some that had their - their good points. (Yeah, he realized he was still talking about Damon here.)

It was convoluted, but Alaric didn't want to kill anyone. Not anymore. He hadn't had that desire for, like, half a year. That was saying something. It was hard to explain that while Damon was his friend - in a loose sense of the term - it wasn't killing him that unnerved Alaric so much. It was that someone had made him want to. He didn't do anything unless it was on his own terms. That was why he obsessively carried vervain. The drug had been like compulsion; it made it so

[36_24_35]

Tifa hadn't drank nearly enough water last night. She woke up to a throbbing headache that encased her whole head and some of her spine. It was embarrassing to be a victim of her own trade. With a groan, she rolled over into her pillow and fell back asleep until her door opened and a pair of heavy boots scuffed across the linoleum floor

[zack_fair]

While not much had been done last night, Zack had figured he earned it after his stint at being a werewolf. Honestly, it had mainly been the news of Lightning's disappearance and Tifa's coaxing that had gotten him to agree, and he'd gotten a free drink out of it. It was hard to complain about that.

As the ex-SOLDIER came to in his bed, the announcement that had ended the night came back to him. It seemed that Major Harrington was certainly making a name for himself. Zack had figured he was just the guy who made announcements at first, but then he'd been taking patient testimonials last night and he'd been talking to someone over the intercom who had probably been Aguilar. And then here he was again this morning, giving some sort of vague warning

[36_24_35]

Tifa hadn't expected to see Zack so early either, but it wasn't an unpleasant coincidence. Or at least, it hadn't started that way. Her friend had a strange look on his face. Either he had a lot on his mind or he had rolled off the wrong side of the bed this morning like she had

[zack_fair]

The fact that she seemed so confused caused a ton of warning bells to sound in his head. Zack paused, glancing from Tifa's expression to the plate of putrid food. She went ahead and pushed it aside, though she didn't seem to think that there was anything obviously wrong with it

[poorexample]

Nightmares were things that Castiel had only heard of. Dreams, in general, were impossible for angels to experience, just as sleep should have been something they could only observe. And yet as his eyes opened to the sound of a man's voice, that was what Castiel felt had happened: he'd woken from a nightmare.

He wanted to get out of the bed immediately, as if it was the reason for what had happened to him. And... what had happened, exactly? Normally he was so composed, his thoughts in such good order, but now it was like everything that had happened over the past day was rushing through him and he hardly knew what to think. He managed to get off of the bed without losing his balance or running into anything. That should have been a simple matter, but he was disoriented, and so accomplishing something as basic as that felt like a feat

[poorexample]

And then, of course, there was Sam and Dean. It would be far easier to clear things up with them, seeing how he doubted they had believed him in the first place. However, during his temporary insanity he had also spoken openly with both of them regarding Ruby, which was undoubtedly going to cause more friction between them. That was the last thing he needed at this point

[touchedgod]

Billy had been content to pretend he was alone, but his resolve decayed when the man who had sat across from him spoke. He didn't realize the voice was familiar until he looked up, presumably to offer a smile and some kind of weak greeting. That intention was derailed, lost like so many other expected morning rituals. Why was he still clinging to normality? Would that really float him through a conversation?

Castiel, his brain immediately provided. Several iconic images came to mind; lightning flashes with nicely rendered CG wing shadows cast on walls, an intensely puzzled expression with his head cocked like a bird, shabby trenchcoat and slipping tie. All of those were missing at the moment, for reasons such as not being on a television screen or having no reason to look at Billy as though he'd grown another head. That might change, however, if Billy continued to stare. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the name of the actor. Likely he never had any reason to look it up. Oddly enough, the sight brought him back to a more

[poorexample]

At first Castiel had taken the stranger's smile as a good sign. It wasn't quite as wide as some others that he'd seen on human's faces, but it was still an improvement over the way that the man had been hiding his face in his hands. Castiel knew enough about body language and expressions on humans by now to realize that much