It's time we get organized.

If in your universe you had any dealings with SHIELD or its affliliates. Please contact me.

That last mission was a cluster. If we're going to survive here, we should stick together.

I look foreward to your responses.

Stark that means you.

(OOC: So, basically, Phil's tired of the crap and is trying to get the Marvel peeps together. All of them not just MCU so. Lets do this!)

You'd think this whole being abducted thing would freak me out a whole lot more... but you know what? Not that bad. [Maya's voice sounds amused.] The whole thing could have been a lot more unpleasant. Uh, aside from all the craziness before. I guess I'm just trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth until I'm a little better adjusted, you know?

So... [There's a small stretch of silence because wow introducing yourself to a giant group of strangers is still kind of awkward.] I'm Maya, and apparently someone thought you all needed the assistance of a Siren. ...Hi.

[And then quieter because she feels dumb enough already:] Knowing what I already know, it's probably kind of a stretch to ask if anyone here is familiar with a planet called Pandora. So I won't.

[She looks squarely at the camera. A very nonhuman face: gold fur, slitted eyes, and four large pointed ears. There seems to be some recent damage with small scrapes, the larger ones covered by bandages.] My appearance. Do you feel fear? Of unfamiliarity, or recognition.

If it is the former, then you need not tell me.

[A pause, as she seems unsure about the next topic. Her speech is slower, cautious and reserved.] Many species, many homeworlds. Many opportunities. My search is ongoing.

What is… expected of your species? Your gender. Your— caste. Your role, by design. Do you fulfill it, or do you rebel?

[Really, does this girl ever look happy? Because she's still as frowny faced as ever when the feed kicks on, idly rubbing at the fading scratches and bruises still left over from the fighting not so long before.]

I know at least some of you here are capable of holding your own in combat. [And even the way she says it almost gives the impression she's giving everyone much more credit than she thinks they deserve, whoops. But she's getting itchy feet without her apprentice here to help her practice her stances....] I need a sparring partner. This "training" is useless without one.

[Totally not so she can also gauge who might be a useful ally in this place. Who might be a threat and who might be worth keeping tabs on. Nope, never.]

[the video catches Peter wiping a small trail of blood that escaped his nose. He's breathing a little heavily]

Okay, fine. So I really am trapped here. Fine. If this place really does want to train me to fight, I'm game.

[The entry begins with a quiet sigh, apparently unconscious but no less heartfelt because of it. First a relocation to some post-apocalyptic/cyberpunk/dystopian locale (it's difficult to fit Exsilium into a single box and he feels no inclination to), then told he's to fight a war he has no interest in joining (doesn't he have enough to worry about already?), and then the revelation that yes, yes he should in fact care about this revolution (life is never easy), and honestly, is it any wonder he's beginning to feel tired? Either way, this introduction has long since been forthcoming. He's wasted enough time absorbing the information; now is the time to act upon it.]

Exsilium. Latin, if I'm any judge. Easy enough to guess its meaning.

[A pause, and although it isn't visible, he's shaking his head. Now is not the time to muse.]

Where are my manners? Lelouch Lamperouge, student, although if we're to be working together in the capacity the information I've heard and read suggests, I ought to be more direct: I am a rebel, a leader, a commander—a strategist, if you're looking for a more—

...and also a silly boy.

[Said "silly boy" falters, obviously thrown, then after a second or so of silence—]

C.C, what are you—I told you not to—!

[ There are muffled sounds on the other end of the feed, the jostling of the tablet's camera, a flicking of a switch, and flashes of green hair and violet eyes before it comes to center on a pale, slender woman with an entrancing gaze. ]

What he means to say is that we're looking for assistance.

[ There’s an aggravated sigh from off-camera, practically a huff, and without a care for how it might interrupt the flow of the entry now, Lelouch mutters, ]

I was getting to that. If you could have just waited—

It's not important. Weren't you supposed to bring me a pizza an hour ago? Where is it?

Witch, I told you, I—

[ A loud yelp, and now C.C. is addressing her audience as a whole. ]

Call me C.C. I'm this one's [ a jerk of her head ] partner. You may contact either one of us if you've need of anything.

You're an embarrassment.

Likewise.

((ooc; Joint intro with Lelouch in purple and C.C. in green. Lelouch has also changed his visible name thing (I am the most technical) to "Lelouch Lamperouge" rather than "Lelouch vi Britannia" and will continue to do so until further notice. C.C. has no actual name, but will show up as "C.C." Expect both to be replying, but please do specify to whom your character is replying if you have a specific preference. Do note, however, that either or both may or may not be looking over the other’s shoulder during responses. Because. What is personal space. Yeah. And yes they are rooming together. Thank you!

ETA: Oh, and responses may come as a 1/2 and 2/2 because of the dual nature of this intro with 1/2 probably being Lelouch and 2/2 probably being C.C. Depends on who's faster.))

[when the image comes on, Frodo isn't quite framed all the way. He's still figuring the device out, but looks skeptically at it for a moment. Is anyone listening at all? He feels somewhat foolish talking at the object, but it is better to start somewhere and try this...

[There is the slightest pause.The proper thing to do - had this been decent places or decent times - would be to introduce himself, but he doesn't know who is listening. Instead, Frodo goes on ahead]

Has anyone ever managed to leave this place, go home?

[a long delay in saying anything, just the sound of muted rustling and breath.]

I'm...sorry, I still don't know. How to make this thing talk only to certain people. [quieter, self-conscious:] I guess I'll find out...

[a beat. a breath.]

Anora? Alistair? May I see you? To talk. There's...a lot to say.