[Being from Victorian-era London, Alice has no idea how to even begin working the miniature netbook. It only manages to activate through sheer stroke of luck. With the screen facing upward, viewers can see that this girl has clearly seen better days. Sickly pale skin, disheveled hair, dark circles around her eyes, worn and dirty clothes... Hardly the picture of health one would expect from someone so young. The only part of her that doesn't look ragged and tired would be the pendant of the Omega symbol ( Ω ) she has around her neck.]

Blasted woman made no sense at all. I will certainly not be living here, or have anything to do with their so-called training.

[Underwhelming as she may appear, this girl still has a sharp tongue on her, and a distinctly English accent. She takes a look around, but it’s clear that she has no idea what she’s supposed to be doing. Alice just sighs.]

Out of one nightmare and thrust straight into the unknown. It seems that fortune smiles upon me once more.

[The view moves, as she raises the intended communicator and looks into the monitor.]

And what a remarkably useless item you turned out to be. I’d almost go as far to say that I’d prefer the Cat as opposed to this.

If that is the Initiative's notion of training, I shudder to think how they command a battlefield. Victory will come steeped in more blood than it ought.

Is anything being done to combat this? Has no one here any semblance of proper military instruction?

[ private to Thor ]

We must speak. Now.

Information

[There's a pause before the feed continues, as if the person sending it pressed post too soon and is struggling with figuring out how to continue.]

jhb786hr Information is required. Machine that hauled us here, these missions, these weapons, or anything of relevance.
Insentient weapons; where can they be found.
How many have been brought here, how many none civilians.

kjsdyrkl1443421535344244)

[Random keys are hit, supposedly by accident, before the feed is cut.]


[ooc: the numbers are a written unseparated representation of tap code. Normally they would be written like so - (1,4)(4,3)(4,2)(1,5)(3,5)(3,4)(4,2)(4,4). They read 'dsreport'.]

[Having determined the netbook is capable of a video feed, Henry makes certain to broadcast only his voice when he reaches out to the network; given the effect his condition has on reflections and even digital images, presenting an empty backdrop for no apparent reason is not the way he'd like to initiate first impressions. With the channel open, there's the clearing of a throat, then:]

And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. I suppose it's about time fate doomed me to fight another man's war, eh? The Devil knows I've been asking for it. But it begs the question... What did the lot of you do to deserve it?

[The accent is unmistakably English, though a sharp ear might infer he hasn't been among Englishmen for some time.]

[When the feed switches on, there's the chiding tone of an Initiative worker in the background that Raven has to shrug off. It's obvious from the stark white pillow and the meticulously cleaned walls behind her that she's in one of their holding facilities, and if the bandaging over her shoulder is any indication, it's their medical ward.

He voice rises as she speaks, until she's nearly shouting.]

You know, I was just waiting for something like this to happen. What, was one of you trying to lull me into a false sense of security before you tried to finish me off?

[She's angry now that she's pretty sure she's not going to die, and rightfully so. It isn't as if she's ever really felt like she belonged among regular people, and this just seems to be justification that people here didn't believe it either.

She can already hear Charles' voice: It was an isolated incident, Raven. Everyone was going to make excuses. She's quieter when she speaks next, at least at first, but she's still irritated.]

Well, joke's on you. I'm fine, but I know what you look like and you're not just going to get away with shooting me!

[Occurring after this and this.]

[The video feed turns on and the picture if filled with the face of a woman with alabaster white skin and dark brows and eyes. One eye quirks upward and her lips tug into an annoyed frown.]

Crowley, what is this, some kind of joke? Threaten me, capture me, and then throw me in the middle of some futuristic looking game with a netbook and a weapon? If Schwarzenegger shows up, I swear I'm going to take this knife and gut him.

And this little home make-over you did of hell while I was gone is not at all what I expected. I thought you had class.

[Meg waits for that smarmy demon’s response but hears none, which just puzzles her more. Now she’s getting a bit nervous. Was this his intention? Throw her off her game?]

Fine. You know what? Screw you. I know you won't be able to resist showing your face sooner or later. You're too much of an egotistical bastard not to.

[The video feed sparks to life as Chloe taps repeatedly at the screen, offering the net a view of a woman with shoulder-length dark hair and bright eyes, wearing a stylish biking jacket and a few layers of leather necklaces with various little charms hanging from their ends. The city's skyline is visible behind her from a particularly high vantage point, and it's likely that she's found herself a resting place somewhere atop the roof of one of the taller buildings. She wiggles a few fingers lazily in greeting before speaking up with a distinctly Australian accent.]

Evening, everyone. Chloe here. New arrival, in case you haven't noticed. All right, somewhat new. Got dragged into this mess a few days ago and decided to take my time getting settled; never know what's out there if you don't bother to look first.

I was a treasure hunter back home-- one of the best in the business, I might add. Problem is I'm getting the impression that there's not much treasure to be found here on Alcatraz, and I'd prefer to stay sharp while things are relatively quiet. So here's the deal: if you need something of value-- for a price-- I'm more than happy to lend a well-trained hand and fetch it for you.

[She moves to shut the call down before adding, thoughtfully]

And in the meantime, if anyone out there knows a place that serves good drinks, I'm all ears. After all this I could sure as hell use one.  

[As the video starts recording, an older gentleman inspects the device, unsure if it's actually recording. After a few seconds, he shrugs his shoulders and decides to leave it be and sits in an uncomfortable looking aluminum chair in front of it. Victor Sullivan, an older mustachioed gentleman, sporting a worn Havana shirt and holding a lit cigar in his right hand. Looking exhausted and in need of sleep, he leans back in the chair casually and looks directly into the camera.]

 

Goddamn, I must have one helluva hangover. I feel like I've been stuffed in a barrel...

 

[He taps the ashes of his cigar on an off screen ash tray, and takes a drag from the cigar. He returns his attention to the camera as he exhales slowly.]

 

Look I don't know what I'm doing here, one minute I'm in this peaceful little village chatting up a friend, next thing I know this, actually pretty cute, woman is talking nonsense... offering me weapons, I think she might have been coming onto me? I don't know I didn't get her number... Then suddenly I'm in this room... cigar in one hand, this little electronic doohickey in the other. Apparently this is to be my "living quarters", hah, as if. Nate, I don't know if this can even reach you, but I hope you're alright. Assuming you are, get over here! Quick! I need you to come pick my ass up, pretty sure you owe me one after I used all our money to bail YOU out. Christ I feel like I'm on lock down!

 

[He puts the cigar down and leans forward in the chair, moving in closer to the camera. He sighs and smoothes his mustache anxiously]

 

Seriously though, if anyone get's this message, anyone at all.... someone please fill me in. I could really use a familia- hell even just a friendly face right now. 

 

[He laughs nervously, his weak smile quickly fading in defeat. He stands up out of his chair and picks up the camera.]

 

Yeah... well it was worth a shot anyway. ... I need a drink...

 

[The video abruptly stops]