[It's through poking and prodding alone that he's been able to figure out how the netbook works, and while he has taken the liberty of spooling through some of the more recent entries to try and figure out where he is and what's going on, none of what he's found has been conclusive. It's a deeply distrustful mini-prince that finds his way onscreen as a result, and although he's scowling impressively, there's a hint of fear in his eyes that hasn't been completely buried.]

To whoever kidnapped us, you aren't going to gain anything from imprisoning me. I'm not sure what you were thinking, but you can't have been paying attention to current events if you thought it was a good idea.

[Seriously, are you touched in the head or something? His scowl soon fades, though, if only because his audience has changed. This is probably a stupid idea, but--]

To everyone else, have you seen a girl with long, chestnut hair? Her eyes are closed, and she's in a wheelchair. If not her, have you seen a boy around my age with brown hair and green eyes? He's probably wearing a white shirt and big black pants that look like a dress.

They might be together, but I can't be sure. Please let me know if you've found either of them.

[For a second or two, he looks very much like he wants to add something else, but eventually, he thinks better of it and ends the entry.]

((ooc; Oh right, and anyone who's been paying attention may just notice that while Lelouch's previous entries deliberately had the name "Lelouch Lamperouge" tacked on them, this one says "Lelouch vi Britannia." Jsyk.))

[A small, white-haired child, about six or seven years old, stares directly into the video lens. He seems to be wearing something like a hospital gown. The whites of his eyes look a little pink and puffy, like he's been crying. But his face is completely blank.]

This isn't where I'm supposed to be. [despite his expression, there's tension in his voice.]

No one's come to get me. [more tension.]

Where is my piano?

[after another second of cold staring, the video ends.]

*I hope you like blood, Exsilium, because there's a lot of it in this video. Margulis' face has been cut open along one side, forcing his right eye closed, although the blood splattered around the wound and dripping off his face makes it difficult to tell how severe it is. He also looks out of breath, with thick dust clinging to water on his skin and hair.*

If this is a rescue attempt, it's a poor one, but if it's a kidnapping it's even worse. I hope someone on this primitive network can explain to me where I am and why or better yet, how I can leave this God forsaken excuse for an inhabited planet. Otherwise, I can't promise I'll be a very pleasant neighbor.

*He pauses to spit out some blood that had dripped into his mouth.*

Aside from that, if anyone here is of a helpful nature, I would appreciate information on where I can gain access to basic medical supplies. This wound is hardly worth relying on nanotreatment, but the bleeding is becoming something of a nuisance.

And if anyone else is here from U-TIC, report in with whatever information you've obtained.

[ So maybe an hour or so after everyone's return to Exsilium, some might have noticed it started snowing. Probably even more noticed when said snow quickly turned into a full on blizzard, covering everything in a thick layer snow in a matter of minutes. After an hour of letting the blizzard rage on, the culprit finally reveals himself.

Jack turns on the feed, squinting into the camera before quickly pulling back a little when he realizes it's on. He's leaning back against a wall, staff resting on his shoulder and he opens his mouth to speak when suddenly the screen grows blurry with a soft crackling sound. The screen goes dark for a moment then as Jack hurriedly wipes the frost away while muttering darkly under his breath. When the camera focuses again, the communicator is placed somewhere low and Jack's crouched down instead.

He raises one hand and waves sheepishly. ]

Hey. Since it seems a lot of people can hear and see me which wow, still unbelievable, I figured I should give this thing a try. For those who can't ... this will probably be a really weird video. Oh well!

[ He shrugs and the previous uncertain expression disappears in favor of a grin. ]

For those that can hear and see me, hi. I'm Jack Frost and I come bearing gifts. The heat back there was bad enough, but I can't say I was feeling up for all that dreary rain again, so ... [ He flips the device, showing the big snowflakes that are now gently drifting down from the sky. ]

Have some snow. [ A pause and he moves back into view. ]

I also wanted to thank everyone who helped me back in the desert, you all kind of saved my life. You too, guy who kept leaving glasses of water. So yeah, thanks. [ Wow, awkward much? But he obviously means it sincerely and the awkward is replaced with excitement again soon enough when he gestures to the snow-covered courtyard behind him. ]

Now, everyone should come out and have a little fun!

[video;]

[This kid looks a little familiar if you were around when he had his public temper tantrum. Dressed in plain robes, he's not anything special, though his ears are too big for his head. His eyes are a softer blue-green color than nasty demon fire green. He doesn't seem to be aware of the change.

He's too busy fanboying the tablet.]

Look at this! Look at it! What's it do? Wow, it really responds to touch? I wonder what this does--

[And within seconds he's absorbed in what archives he could find available on the network.

He can worry about where he is later.]

Where am I? This isn't the Heartful House.

[standing over the camera is a tiny mourning dove. it might look like a joke, but the words are coming directly of the bird's little beak, and its cold, disdainful birdie eyes are boring down practically into the soul of the viewer.]

Abduction is a felony punishable by law, you know. [the bird pauses, his childlike voice getting a little higher with poorly concealed nervousness.]

Someone will be coming for me soon if you don't release me. It's really in your best interests to let me go before he finds me himself.

If this is your impression of adoption, I'm not interested.

[The ... high elf?! ... who shows up on the video looks and sounds pretty familiar, and let's face it this is Luminada de-aged to before the Scourge attacked. She seems considerably less depressive and reclusive right now, and more just plain shy and nervous.

This is gonna be good.]

Um, excuse me. This doesn't seem to be Silvermoon City - or, um, anywhere in Quel'Thalas at all...Could someone please be so kind as to point me home? My mother and father will likely be worried a-and Lady Savalia is really not going to be happy with me so...please?

[She pauses to pick up and hold up a tiny dragonhawk hatchling. It is baby Sirene, who just chirrups and fluffs her feathers.]

Also, somehow I have a hatchling in my care - I mean, I'm going to take care of it of course, but why would anyone remove a hatchling from its nest? That's uncalled for! The poor thing, and its mother must be worried sick!

[She clears her throat after saying all of this, a faint blush crossing her face.]

So I-I suppose that's all I have to say, so...thank you for your time.

That seemed like a grand waste of time in the aspect of things. [No violence or war? Not exactly thrilling.] If I did not know any better I would have thought it was more getting us all out the way of something here.

[Gives in indifferent shrug.] Not that they would tell us of these things, as they do with most others.

Now then. Who has seen that orc Thrall around recently? I require words with him.

[Filtered to Jaina and Anduin.]

You will both be staying with myself in UNIT 1 2 1 0. I will hear no arguments against this. Bring your things.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

[The camera isn't on Jesse. He's using it like a camcorder, dizzyingly turning it from one spot to another to another. He's in his apartment. There's a table. There's the ceiling. There's the kitchen counter.]

Are you kidding me. This is so sweet. Oh my god...

[There's his hand, with its familiar black tribal tattoo, touching the slick countertop. Then the camera turns sharply again, this time on the floor while he walks a few steps. His sneakers and his ridiculously oversized jeans are in view for a few seconds while he walks down the hall to the bedrooms. He opens the door to one - and apparently realizes it's a girl's room, because he whispers:]

- Oh shit, oops...

[And then he continues on to the next one, shaky cam bouncing with every step. When he opens that door, he gasps again in amazement.]

Is this really my stuff? Sick crib, holy shit. Look at this -

[A leather jacket comes into view. There's Jesse's hand again, picking it up, and something falls out of the pocket when he does. To those who don't know any better, it looks like a baggie of blue rock candy. Jesse practically squeals at the sight of it, and for a brief moment the camera glimpses his overjoyed face (not much younger but somehow much more youthful, framed by messy blonde hair that hasn't been shaved off yet) - and then the camera goes black all of a sudden as he tosses the communicator face-down onto the bed. He's still audible in the background:]

Score!

Not this place again....

[Well, there's another one for you, Exsilium. Johnny's looking over the computer, muttering to himself when he notices the video clicked on already.]

Oh, there we go. Hey, uh. What's up. Dunno what's going on exactly, but... If anyone here actually remembers my ugly mug, say somethin'?

[With those features, it's hard to miss who it is. But there's some differences. He's definitely older, his voice gruffer than before. There's a lot of scars on his face and neck, from what you can see on the video screen. And two long blue horns poke up from his forehead.]

--

[Later, if you're out shopping, Johnny has found himself some shelter next to a store to play guitar for the public. Back home, he lost this guitar years ago, and hadn't played since. No time. He was thrilled to see it here, so now he's got to get back into the groove of things. You'll probably find him starting and stopping a lot, trying to remember the notes and chords, humming to himself as he does, until he gets it right.]

[Lookin' totally normal, here. Or as normal as a dragon can ever look.]

I understand many of you are confused, mainly due to the recent...difficulties. Fortunately for you, I believe I have a grasp on the situation in the large scale, if perhaps not all the tiny details. If any of you find yourself bereft of years of experience or in a place you generally do not recognize, I would refer you to Ms. Pexies admirable guide for the confused. If you have more specific questions, I will make an attempt here to answer them.

Hopefully in doing this I can cut down on the network clogging from dozens of baffled time travelers before actually important information gets lost.

[Oh, this video is very much on purpose. It hasn't taken long for Robo to figure out how to use Murphy's tablet and he is puzzled by a great many things.]

Many of you seem confused. You have been talking about things being different here. How are they different?

[No introduction, no explanation - nothing. Robo isn't concerned with questions - he just wants information. He needs to restructure his information database as this city does not match the one he is currently programmed for. This is not Detroit.]

[Alright, this tablet? Ollie can admit this is a nice piece of work. If he could, he'd probably take it apart but that would probably result in bad things.

Which he's really averse to currently.

But onto the more important things... Listed on this public network post is the name 'Oliver Queen,' a name that's been fairly recently added to the lists.]

Right, so. These guys, our... overlords, they pluck us out of somewhere and then drop us into The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. After that, somehow, we get back to the year 3000 and now half of us are suddenly kids?

[Don't even ask how he knows that bit of information, he's a professional stalker.]

I'm starting to think adjustment periods aren't exactly a thing these guys do around here. Is this... normal?

[HE'S SO CONFUSED DON'T JUDGE HIM.]

[ The green face that appears on the feed can't be more than five, green skin and short black hair. Absent the gold markings it's almost impossible to tell that it's Gamora - but how many green-skinned aliens does the place have and which one can it be after a simple process of elimination? ]

Master Thanos will be displeased to find I've been kidnapped. [ There's a small amount of hopeful bravado mixed in when she says the name - that someone will recognize it and be properly scared into doing what she says. ] He won't be merciful. Return me, and the master may spare your life.

[ That part is delivered as a matter of fact, and there's a few seconds of silence as she examines the tablet, poking at with a figure or two to see what it does. When nothing interesting results from it, her attention turns elsewhere - leaving the tablet on and the video focused on the ceiling for a minute or so before she returns, this time with a curious look on her face. ]

What planet is this?

[Getting here and being thrown right into the thick of things? It's kind of like hitting the ground running, and he's nothing if not good at acting on exactly what he's given. But, he thinks in some ways it's made processing everything that much harder.

Too much information, not enough context. It's not exactly a pleased expression he's wearing, but it's not hostile either]

This is Captain James Kirk, of the USS Enterprise. If any of my crew, or any other active member of Starfleet happen to be here, do me a favour and report in.

[He pauses to weigh his next words carefully. Considering the communication methods were given to him, he doesn't trust them to be secure from the people behind this whole thing. Anything he wants to say- It's either got to be coded or done in person. So he changes track entirely]

The rest of you? I wouldn't mind hearing about what you do for fun around here, or just about anything else about this place you can tell me. [Because you never put everything on the travel brochure for tourists, and he wants to know everything the higher ups aren't telling him. Everything that's only figured out with first hand experience and time.

A beat] You know what? Why don't my new roommates check in too.

Well, well, well. This place is never lacking for excitement, is it?

[ The feed turns on to a view of long fingernails, painted red, tapping against it. Then, it's drawn back so that everyone can see the face of the person that's holding the tablet, instead of just the hand. A blonde woman's sitting by the window of what appears to be a cozy looking cafe, a spoon swirling in her drink of its own accord. ]

I suppose that a 'welcome home' is in order. If you can call it 'home'. [ She looks slightly miffed by this – it might be London, but it still obviously fail to meet her standards. ] Anyway, enough about that. I'm posting today to talk all about you, Exsilium.

'Talk about what', I hear you ask? Well, you can say that it's my business to know other people's business, to uncover the mysteries that lurk beneath the surface of this city, and to write stories that will be sure to captivate the minds of my readers.

[ She's smiling now, although the corner of her mouth twitches slightly – a brief flash of irritation again. ] But now that we've all been brought here by that so-called 'Initiative', I'm going to have to build my career up from scratch. But not entirely from scratch, so don't worry about that, dears. I've been doing this for a very long time.

Anyway, seeing as we're all in this together, I was wondering if anyone would care to assist me – by which I mean I'm looking for a job. [ Even though the pleasant expression on her face doesn't waver again, she knows that the Transports have hardly put proper journalism at the top of their list of priorities. ] Although...I've never considered starting my own publication before, but it looks like that here I might have to – unless, of course, any of you have any information about any other journalists or even writers who have been brought to this city. If so, I'd love to hear it.

[ It never hurts to check out the competition, after all. ]

If you've anything to tell me, anything at all, and you don't want to be heard or seen by prying ears or eyes, feel free to contact me privately over this... device, or even come meet me here at this cafe. It's quite cozy; I always find that such places have a certain ambiance to them, wouldn't you agree? [ She attaches directions to the broadcast, and her smile widens slightly further. ]

Oh, by the way – my name's Rita Skeeter, and I'll be here all morning.

[Winchesters show no fear. Winchesters have no fear. Nope he is not afraid at all, even though this is basically the nightmare his father jammed into his head for years now. Waking up alone, in a city he half knows as if from a dream, populated by freaks. The face that stares through the tablet is that of a very fiercely determined little boy making his best effort at being intimidating.]

I don't know what you're playing at, whoever you are, but this is the worst mistake you've ever made. If you've taken me you know who my dad and brother are – and they'll come for me. You better believe they'll make you regret this – so just do yourselves a favor and take me back. It's your only way out.

[Balder is looking surprisingly serene about being here. Also surprisingly white-haired and fat.]

My memories of recent events are somewhat confused ... Karnilla, if you are here I am ever at your service.

No, strike that. All of you, I am ever at your service. Balder shall not abandon thee just because he has abandoned his bloodlust. In a place without sun 'tis ever more my duty to prove my name as Balder the Bright, e'en if I would rather not do so with a sword.

Though I do appear to have quite the sword. And this ax is exceedingly fine ...

[He clears his throat and smiles.]

That aside, I would share thy company and thy thoughts. In this spirit I ask what action is the treasure of thy life--what would be the greatest loss should never had you been born.

I treasure the chances I have had to fight side-by-side with my brothers-in-arms. They are strong, and I have no doubt in their abilities, but they bear more than enough on their shoulders. And 'tis always better to fight together than to fight alone.

[He pauses. Fighting isn't supposed to be the entirety of his life anymore. If he thinks about it ....]

I also treasure the good fortune to share with others how I see them and what is good in themselves should they know it or not.