... So it's a different world. Right?

[ Those are literally the first words that come out of Rock's mouth the moment he turns on the netbook, a rather curious expression on his face as he tries to piece together the info he was given. Which, isn't really much, because that lady didn't really explain anything that didn't have to do with weapons, money, and living arrangements.

But he can try his hand at theorizing. Right? ]

A lot of the weapons looked really different, and I've never heard of a currency known as 'marks' before. [ You mean marques. ] Not to mention, the way the building looks and the way that lady was dressed were... [ Watch what you say there, Rock. ] W-Well, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it back home...

The lady said this place was called Exsilium... [ He pauses for a second, still rather contemplative. ] Is that the name of this world? Or just this island?

She also mentioned a training schedule... and she's giving people weapons. [ He gets a bit anxious now, not sure if he wants to ask this. ] What are we actually training for?

[ And it's only just now that he realizes that he's practically dropping a bomb full of questions on anyone actually listening. ]

I-I uh, I'm sorry about all the questions, I'm just... w-well, the lady didn't explain much, and I'm kind of lost on a few things...

[ Silence. ]

... My name's Rock.

[The video switches on easily to show Isa looking at the screen, more or less expressionless.]

Nice kidnappers we've got here. They provide weapons, lodgings, and computers so we can communicate. Probably would've been nicer if they'd asked before the whole kidnapping thing, though.

[A slight smile appears on his face, then disappears almost as quickly.]

I've got a question. Do these things save conversations? It seems like that could be useful. You know, so we could all relive the complete lack of an explanation we got when we arrived.

Anyway. Looks like this is gonna be quite an adventure.

I'm Isa.

[the video opens on David sat straight backed, in a still entirely nondescript room. he has no reason to add any personal touches to his room. even the few items that came with him are tucked away and out of sight.

bar his newly reattached body, of course. and the basketball currently sitting in his lap.]

While the possibility is likely very slim, I wish to inquire after the location of one Doctor Shaw.

Elizabeth, if you can hear this, I believe we should…talk.

[at first it seems as though he's finished. he's already done as much as he believes would be expected from him if she were there. but at the same time, he's already well aware that she isn't present. he would have been able to find her somewhere on the network.

for a very brief moment he looks almost amused by that thought. at the idea that it's taken a trip through both space and time to finally break those last tendrils of control that humanity had over him. that elizabeth still has. that her absence leaves him free from.]

Regardless.

To those from a time before this, or a world where technology isn't quite as advanced yet, a query.

Why do you believe that any of this is real? Why not accept that your mind may simply be "playing tricks" on you? That you could be hallucinating, or dreaming up all of this?

What is it that makes you so certain that everything you are seeing is true?

Curious minds wish to know.

[this time, the amused look is a little clearer, before he reaches forward to click the public feed back off and instead set up a private one.]

[filtered to residents of unit 408 (Isa and Roxy)]

Greetings.

[don't mind that earlier broadcast. there's nothing creepy to see, is there?]

My name is David, and I believe I have been assigned to share an apartment with the two of you.

[your turn?]

[ Oh, look, a voice post from the official Initiative frequency — it's probably all kinds of important and official. ]

Oh, boy, have we ever got a treat for you guys. [ …If it's so important and official, why does the speaker sound slightly drunk? ] You guys're all slacking with those weapons we whipped up for you, don't even pretend otherwise. Slackers. Sheesh, lead a horse to a laser cannon, but you can't make him fire it…

Anyway, that's alright. It's alright! We whipped up something else for you. You guys're gonna love this one. State of the art, alright? VR is old news, but wait till you see what we did with it. Sometimes I even impress myself, which isn't easy, because I usually know just how genius I am.

[ It's at about this point that the recorder picks up another voice in the background. The words are indistinct, but the tone is inquiring. This new speaker sounds way too professional to ever be drunk. ]

—No, I wasn't talking to you. Anyway, Transports, we're thinking… a week. A week? A week. Sounds good. We'll have this baby up and running in a week, and you'll love it. Money back guarantee if you don't.

[ The voice in the background is getting closer, words can be picked out. ”…talking to the Transports? Doctor, are you—” ]

I'm still not talking to you! [ ”Doctor, early release of information on this project was expressly prohibited!” ] Oh, calm the hell down, kid. I got this. [ And more fully into the mic: ] You're gonna love it, guys. You'll see.

[ And the broadcast ends, amid harried background protest. ]

[There is the tell-tale sound of heaving in the background. The communicator is on its side, camera facing a cup of some clear alcohol on ice that's swirling in a tumbler. Where did this mysterious alcohol come from when Haymitch appears to be newly-arrived, you ask? We may never know.

His cheek is still stinging from where Katniss had gouged him, but it was a dull thrum that didn't seem so bad when he couldn't see straight. Eventually, he manages to get the camera upright and gives it a winning grin – or it would be winning, if there wasn't the telltale glisten of vomit on his lower lip. Some might not notice that.]

So, we're in for another Game. Different rules, sure, and a real 'battle', but – [and he waves his hand toward the camera,] – still. I should introduce myself, if that's the case.

[He makes a mostly-unsuccessful attempt to straighten himself up a little, leaning heavily on the outside wall of the nearest building before forcing himself to his feet and dipping himself in a sloppy bow.]

Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the second Quarter Quell. I come from District 12, home of coal and very little else.. This place is at least less of a violent assault on the senses than the Capitol – nobody's hair has made me shield my eyes yet. That's something.

[He produces a flask from his jacket pocket and places it to his lips, tipping it completely upside-down to suck the last few drops from it.]

Tell me, fellow captives -- how do you feel about the likelihood we'll be forced to kill people we know nearly nothing about in the name of this place's 'freedom'?

 So, who wants to get together and kick him.

Hard?