[LMAO GUESS WHO LOOKS REALLY PUT-OFF.

SPOILERS: it's anora. in fact her hair is done up in a really sharp bun to help accentuate how angry she is.]

It was certainly nice seeing people attempt to kill my father again. As though having it only happen once in my lifetime was simply not enough. And to include Cailan in all of this...well-- [she cuts herself off]

I may be echoing a few others who have voiced their complaints after our little training session, but nevertheless...what were we to gain from this? Unless this was an attempt to let us know that in the future our enemies lie amongst those we once knew and...trusted, it would have been more beneficial to just pit ourselves against each other in training.

[she reaches at a gold necklace around her neck, still angrily musing about what went down these past few days.]

And lest you forget not all of us have weapons suited for combat.

And so the whining and complaining begins. So we start yelling and foaming and pointing out that yes, it is annoying to have fond memories - and not so fond - dragged out and bludgeon to death in front of others. The accusations fly, and words are tossed around, and again, we only prove one thing.

[ He is clearly not amused. The tightness around his eyes, the way his accent seems to have vanished, an edge in his voice instead of his usual soft purr. ]

We are spoiled children expecting the pony our parents promised is real and not a piece of molded plastic.

So. Continue the complaining. Continue the annoying disorder of getting nothing done but expecting it all to be perfected without any work. Go right ahead. Do nothing. Have nothing done but continual irritations to your state of mind.

[ Basically, if there was a more uniform presence between all these little groups people have formed, things wouldn't have been so traumatizing. That's his theory and he's sticking to it. But he has other matters to discuss. ]

Is there any reason to expect a better way to find dates on this miserable island? The dance music alone is more appalling than elevator music.

[The first thing the feed shows is a blur of green and brown rushing past at amazing speeds, the ground rushing by at blinding speed; a blur of red and white in the corner, the toe of a sneaker going faster than any sneaker has a right to. Then the view lurches into a dizzying overhand spin as its carrier performs a fast series of flips, shuddering as he lands...]

[And then the spiky blue... THING, flashes a grin at the camera.]

Helooooo Exsilium! My name's Sonic: Sonic the Hedgehog! And it looks like I'm going to be fighting alongside you guys now! I just took an easy jog out to the coast and back; Those guys really take themselves seriously, huh? Blockades, machine guns, constant patrols... and that's for their own citizens! I dunno about you guys, but I can't wait to cut 'em down to size!

[Two lavender eyes stare deeply into the camera, leaning in too close.]

Testing, 1, 2, 3! Um, hi? Oh good, it's working...

[Mahdi slides backward. He's in the dining area of one of the assigned apartments. The guy looks about fifteen, and was clearly plucked right from his job: he's wearing a clean but old and stained black apron over khakis and a polo that have seen better days. There's a hairnet crumpled up on one side of the table, next to a glittery purple flashlight.]

Is there any way for me to contact my boss on this thing? You'd think a simple inter-realm transmission wouldn't be that hard considering how much other crazy stuff they have out here. [More to himself than to the netbook:] I really just want to tell her I won't be coming in. I'm supposed to be there for the breakfast crowd and she's gonna be up a creek without me. Probably can't get out of getting fired for not showing up... even if technically I was there. Early, even!

[He seems to remember himself, and addresses the camera once again.] Anyway, hi! I'm Mahdi. I'm new. They set me up with a place to stay, so I guess I'm gonna be a prisoner for awhile here, huh? [He doesn't exactly seem upset about it, though at least it's clear he's not enthusiastic.] I hope we can makes friends! That's what people do on the internet, right?

[The video clicks on to show a pale woman talking to someone off screen, mid conversation.]

-nd then what happens?

...Introduce myself? Why would I want to do that?

It's going now!? Dammit! Uh...

[She finally looks at the screen, looking flustered and annoyed.]

Oh fine, hello, I guess. I'm Ionae, and I've been roped into this doomed crusade in much the same way that I gather all of you have. With any luck, I'll get out of it without dying.

...That's it.

[Click.]

[If you happen to live in unit 303, you may notice a strange woman with a cloak looking over your stuff. By the look in her eye, it's only a matter of time before this switches to looking through your stuff.]

[Video]

[It's a new face that appears as the feed flickers to life; a pale, angular man somewhere in his late twenties with short-cropped brown hair and beard, and green eyes hidden behind thick black glasses that he fidgets with before speaking in an uneasy low tenor:]

The, uh, people at the Hold said I should introduce myself. Freeman. Dr. Gordon Freeman. Before anyone asks, not THAT kind of doctor, the other kind. PhD in theoretical physics, though I'm sure that wasn't the reason they brought me in here... [He clears his throat as he remembers something.]

By the way, anyone out there who knows better than I do: just what do they mean by these "semi-sentient weapons?" I use my own equipment, and I'm still not sure just what the hell they did to it yet! I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into when I start these training exercises they were talking about.

[His suit better not start initiating conversation. That could get really awkward in a firefight.]

[Action, apartment complex]

[Those of you in Unit 207 have a new flatmate, and the guy has wasted no time in moving in: The third unassigned room has already been claimed by makeshift office furniture, old lighting and stacks of books on subjects ranging from brane cosmology and quantum chromodynamics to technical treatises on weaponry from the 20th century all the way to the 33rd. A raggedy secondhand chessboard sits next to them, ready for a game. The only thing that verges on new is the holographic lightboard in the corner, already glowing with unintelligible equations interspersed with arrows and phrases like "OBSERVATION EVENT" and "PARADOX POTENTIAL ENERGY?" and "WTF KIND OF UNIT IS THIS?" The man himself is currently staring at it and muttering with his back to the door, the pen in one hand, a beer in the other.]

I suppose in a retroactive or self-correcting system there'd be sufficient paradoxal dispersal to prevent a problem, but then there's a question of the entropy gradient...

[This is how he unwinds, ladies and gentlemen.]

[The rope some of you might have seen Katniss toying with in the past is now almost completely unravelled, knotting at one end to keep the strands together as she fiddles with the other end. Tying and untying, over and over]

So the sinister organisation that kidnapped us from our home worlds tries to use our memories to make us fight, but I'm paranoid?

It's not paranoia if you're right. If you really think that they care what we want, you're delusional. And I know delusional.

[Speaking of. Katniss hands tremble for a moment before she ties a particularly savage knot. She switches topics with little concern for how jarring that is] Does anyone know what Peeta saw? Some of his memories are...wrong.

[She closes her eyes] I might need some... [help] People might need to keep him away from me for the next little while. I'm going to find somewhere high to wait it out. [because he can't climb things with his metal leg :'D]

[feed starts at the tail end of a harsh exhale.

a beat.]

Where're...Chloe and...Er-eri...[huff. another pause. his voice gets grumblier, agitated:] My friends. Here. Why am I even back.

[video. The screen is initially filled entirely with a giant yellow, reptillian eyeball surrounded by brownish red scales. It backs off to reveal the head of what is unmistakably a dragon. You even catch a thin wisp of smoke emerging from one nostril.]

What a useful toy this is. I just wish it was a little bigger.

A minor matter that I can address later. Know that you have the honor of meeting the dragon Ricasthix. I have decided that your cause is a noble one, and will offer you with what aid that I can in the coming battle against this oppressive reign.

[Action.]

Ricasthix flew over the city, memorizing the layout and eying the people. Specifically, he was looking for a suitably out of the way place to set up his new lair. That he might have caused alarm in the populace was a low worry. He wasn't planning on eating anyone, so they might as well start getting used to him.

 [When the feed starts, the netbook's camera shows you a view of the forest floor.  A deer carcass lies among the grass and twigs, and it's obvious that the poor thing did not have a clean death.  It's in the advanced stages of decomposition, even though the blood around its body is red and fresh.  The camera does not linger on this image for more than a few seconds; it pans upward, to show Koltira's face.

 He's standing over the deer, holding the device in one hand, holding Byfrost with the other.  Agony creases his expression: his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed, every muscle in his pale, sallow face is taut with pain.  The guttural growl of his voice occasionally rises in octave as he talks, as though something is beating the shit out of him from the inside.]

Were we brought here to fight for something, or to waste time reliving the past?  Send.  Us.  On.  A mission.

[He stabs the tree next to him with Byfrost, and the sword glows sickly green; the tree bark begins to decay rapidly, as though it's practically melting.  Diseased fumes pour out of the bark, forming a nasty miasma around Koltira's body.]

I need a battle. [he hisses, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he bites down on the inside of his cheek.]  Now.