[ Drift winces a smile and waves at the screen awkwardly. ]

Hello. For those of you who are unfamiliar, my name is Drift. I've been fixing up what appears to be an old warehouse or factory, but I've found myself with a surplus of space.

I've been thinking about what to do with it, but I'm coming up with nothing. So... if there was anyone looking for a safe place to stay, I'd be willing to give you a room here.

If anyone has any questions, please feel free to ask.

Thank you.

[ Eyes narrowed as he appears on screen, flesh white as a sheet, Azrael is frowning. ]

It appears I am back here again--my third arrival, one I'm certain not to forget. Third time is a charm, is it not?

[ A hum, then a smirk. ]

Things were getting boring where I was, so thank you.

Now--anyone going to give me a summary? Six words or less. Go.

[ When the camera turns on, Artemis' expression is carefully neutral-- almost bored. ]

As much... joy I feel to be back here, I would have thought you could have at least cleaned up a bit. This place has just as much charm as it did the last time around. [ He punctuates that statement with a bit of a sneer, before his expression returns to its blasé state. ]

Would anyone mind filling me in on what I've missed? Sparing none of the grim and gritty details, of course.

[ There is a pause, before he adds: ]

Don't tell me those sods bombed this place again.

[ Here is that teal-haired doctor again. Only how curious! Her ears are now webbed and there's green scales just near the base. If anyone noticed her before they'll remember she'd been wearing a white hat for the last few weeks. And probably also that before that she had completely average looking round, human ears.

Cat's out of the bag. But why? Well, that half-empty glass of scotch in her hand and the fact she's obviously in a rather rowdy bar are probably some very good clues.
She giggles at whatever slurred joke the man next to her just said and grins into the tablet. ]

Hey! Hey I've been thinking and Ihavesomethingtosay. [ She smacks her hand down on the table to punctuate that. ] So. You know what's hard? keeping friends from plotting murder. I dare say the most thankless job to be had. 'Specially when they think you hate them... [ She rakes a hand through her hair and down her face, rubbing around her eye before it drops away. ] But they're both idiots. No, no. Wait a moment....

[ A squint, and a focused counting on her fingers. 1,2,3,4... ] How... how many of you kill? Its not just the reckless two. Sweet blue earth.

I think. I think 's is just depressing. [ She slouches, shoulders hunching a bit, the good mood from just a moment ago washed away.

A grimace and a long gulp of her drink. ]

Hey... Hey someone talk to me? Its a saying, my mother would say. 'Ripples always return'; it doesn't translate well. But that means kind words will come back to you, so let's talk, about anything. ...Maybe a story? Give me one and I will return it 'with a kiss'. With kindness.

In accordance to an agreement I made with a certain gentleman upon my arrival 4 months ago, I do believe I'm entitled to some, ah... undead affection. And while I don't mean that attractively pale dead man with the glowing eyes, let it be said that I certainly wouldn't be opposed to that, as well!

But here I'm faced with a dilemma. I haven't heard from this charming corpse in quite some time — do you think I ought to look him up and remind him? Or shall I assume that he's a cadaver of his word and await his making good on our deal in his own time?

[ with a definite smirk in his voice here: ] Or perhaps this much will prove enough to spark a little reminder, hmm?

[Adrasteius stares into the feed silently for a few moments, eyebrows drawn, jaw set.  He's somewhere outside in the city, on a sidewalk, surrounded by an ever-shifting throng of people.  The masses don't seem to bother him, though.  He has the look of someone who was struck by a sudden thought, and then by a subsequently urgent need to voice it.  There's a shakiness to the feed as he talks, which suggests that the hand holding the tablet is quaking--though whether that's from emotion or some physical problem is not clear.]

I've noticed that a number of you claim to be leaders in your worlds.  Princes.  Kings.  Queens.  Nobility of some stripe.  

[Adra pronounces all of those nouns with the same tone another person might use to discuss vermin, and the venom only worsens as he goes on.]

Perhaps you were a general or a lieutenant.  Perhaps a politician.  Or you controlled a gang.  [The tone indicates that he pretty much lumps all of those positions together.]

Whatever you were, it seems clear that a few of you think this entitles you to the same position here.  This is, of course, fucking ridiculous.  But let us entertain, for the sake of argument, that you should retain your privileged status in this place.  I ask: why?  

[His eyes narrow, and he leans low over the tablet, his eyes bright and angry.]

Don't misunderstand me.  I'm not asking for a record of your 'heroic' and 'worthy' exploits.  I don't need to hear about how many battles you've won or organized;  about how many goddamn corpses you've piled up in your past.  I care not one fucking iota about your pathetic, disgusting warmongering.  

Don't fucking tell me about how you can punch through twenty walls with your immense strength, or how your magical prowess is so great that you can conjure thousands of swords from thin air, or stop hearts, or bend minds, or any of that other fucking.  nonsense.  Do you understand me?  I don't care if you can kill any man, woman, child, or other semi-sentient thing you set eyes on, and if you try to brag about it, you will be instantly dismissed as a witless fucking troglodyte.

No.  I'm asking you what you stand for.  What is your philosophy of leadership?  Do you favor fear and violence?  Do you favor control?  Do you claim to speak about cooperation, when what you actually want is doe-eyed agreement from a bunch of teat-suckling yes-men?  Well, goddammit?  What makes you fit to lead?  Fit to serve?  I don't want to know about your muscles, physical or otherwise.  I want to know about your fucking convictions.

Beloved friends, dear acquaintances, and soon to be beloved friends and dear acquaintances! Last I spoke up hereabouts, I believe it was with mention of a party, no? Well, the lot of us are in luck! I've spoken with the Initiative, and not only is such a thing possible, but we've a date and a place.

Clear your calendars, my friends, as this coming Friday, anyone with any sense of the sociable ought to be joining us for a masquerade ball in 1772, France, the Palace of Versailles. Quite a lovely place, I'm given to understand!

Those of you who have volunteered to assist me in the preparations, I do believe that now is your time to shine. And to the rest of you, find something you won't be ashamed to be seen in—and a mask, of course!—and prepare for a terrifically lovely evening, won't you?

( [Private to Samus, Cairistiona, Eddie Riggs and Jaina] )

[[ooc; one last plotting post for this shindig is up here, for new characters that didn't get a chance to hash stuff out last time, and here is a log for setting up!]]

[Private to Emma Frost:]

[Wow, she is just the most unsure about this...]

I -- have to ask you something. It probably sounds stupid, I'm pretty sure it doesn't even work this way, but -- do you sense other telepaths? It's just that I don't think -- I -- Charles isn't here any more, is he?

[ End Private to Emma Frost]

[Some time later, the following voice post goes up. Mystique is -- very pointedly not showing her face right now, and she sounds a little shaky.]

For anyone who knew Charles -- my brother, Charles Xavier -- he isn't here any more.

Just -- so everyone knows.

[And she clicks off the feed, because she's going to go have her own private pity party. She knew that the little bit of peace she got here, pretending that things were okay with her brother, wouldn't last ... but she hadn't wanted to think about how exactly it would come to an end. The selfish part of her had always hoped she'd be the one to go home first. It had happened once before, after all.]

[ When the feed opens it's not quite clear what's holding the communicator as Medusa has both hands visible - clasped neatly in her lap while a chunk of her red hair extends towards the feed, and it might take a second or two before someone watching realizes that what is currently holding the tablet is said chunk of hair. There's also a giant bulldog sleeping at her feet, currently not running rampart around the Hold for once. ]

Greetings, fellow Transports.

As much as I dislike posing a question that has doubtless been asked countless times before - has anyone considered going directly to the leadership of the Initiative for answers? Or, as a less ambitious goal, discovered who - or what - leads the fraction we have no choice but to side with?

Furthermore, this place seems ill-suited for those with any inclination away from pointless violence. I ask if anyone has any experience with politics or diplomacy to share what options you have found here.

[ A slight incline of her head to indicate a preemptive thanks at whoever comes forth before she continues on. ]

Sister, if you are free - we have things to discuss.

Before I arrived in this place, Danko told me that I had died for my freedom. Ironic. Now I'm here. Freedom again. Accepting servitude in one way for freedom in others. Follow the rules, behave. Do as they say.

Then you can do what you want. A gold star.

They're afraid of us. They don't understand. We have these abilities..

[A pause]

I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to be the only one with these kinds of powers. Someone else out there must have something they can do. I can't be the only one with my curse.

[ here, exsilium, have a french accent. he also sounds perturbed, but it's better than his awful text messaging capabilities so you're welcome. ]

I have been told to update my musical tastes. I was also told that music by the orchestral group–[ this seems like he's having difficulty with the pronunciation ]–Evanescence–was befitting what was assumed to be my taste.

I cannot find this music on the Internet.

Curiously there are no albums on the Internet that do not pre-date 1999. [ his voice gets smaller, like a mutter to the side. ] I have not yet run out of Depeche Mode albums, so this entire feat seems irrelevant. My music is satisfactory, however–

I require your recommendations, for the sake of curiosity. [ he mumbles something again, though it is in French and off-record. ]–but apparently it must be from the nineties.

[ EVERYTHING IS DUMB!! azrael just huffs and hangs up, then. ]

[ Long time no see, Exsilium. The feed is dimly lit, but it's clear that Scott's standing outside, the dark silhouette of a treeline behind him. The sound's picking up a bit of static from a breeze. ]

Hey, it's Scott - I guess I should ask if people usually come back. When they leave, I mean.

[ That's actually the reason he was making this video, but he barely addresses it, because something's distracting him. ]

Because I did. Leave and come back. Which I guess is... something, but more importantly, does anyone know what the hell the "Fun Cafe" is?

[ There's a pause as he turns the video away from his face, swinging it around to face a creepy ass building on the side of the road, barely visible in the evening light. He holds the video there for a few seconds, then it's back to his slightly wary, slightly amused face. ]

... and does anybody want to find out?

[ Artemis appears to be reclining in his apartment, and when he addresses the communicator he sounds bored. ]

So. What's the deal with elves?

[ locked away from Arthas, sorry boo ]

[ This video will not be displaying Sylvanas. Instead, she’s fashioned the device to hang from her neck and record what’s in front of her as she makes her way across the city. Occasionally, a bow with notched arrow, engulfed in a sort of arcane fire, will come into view before being fired off at one of the invading mutated monsters, but she speaks like she’s on an afternoon stroll. ]

Good people of Exsilium, I would have your ear for a moment. [ Look at her pretending not to be the cold and merciless bitch that she is. ] My name is Sylvanas Windrunner, a queen and long time military leader in my realm before my summons here, and I come to you with the proposal of alliance.

As we are, we remain scattered and divided, the Initiative’s leadership not more than a hardly amusing joke. Even between those of us transports brought forth, there is strife building, those that would seek to harm and dominate the others [ coughARTHAScough ], and as when we are laid siege as we are now, we attack in scattered groups, unorganized. Not one of us assured a fellow at our back should we be overwhelmed.

I suggest the forming of a more formidable force and offer the utmost of my military knowledge and combative power to aid.

[ Another arrow sent flying straight into the eye of a mutated dog-thing and she continues nonplussed. ] I ask only your loyalty, and in return, offer an immense wealth of power, security, and safe haven. Should you find yourself hunted or troubled in this place, know that you will have allies to lend a hand.

That is all.

( Some Privated Messages )

You call these insignificant creatures monsters? I will show you the face of a true monster.

[Now, the punchline here would be Arthas pointing to his face, but unfortunately, he doesn't. His sense of humor is somewhat lacking since death. However, Exsilium will hear a distinct roar and oh good -- it looks like a large, canine-like monster the size of a horse is about to gobble him whole.

Except it doesn't, it sort of leans down as Arthas adjusts his hand to blink unevenly with frosted blue eyes into the camera lens. If it was ugly before, that's nothing compared to the rips in its skin, the exposed bones and the black ichor dripping from its mouth. It hisses, causing more of it to ooze to the ground before something catches its attention -- another monster, and it charges off with about seven of its companions to take it down.]

Now if you'll excuse me...I have an army to build. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to join me.

[ooc: log for interaction is here. warning: log engagement includes high risk of injury particularly if your character is confrontational.]

[Minato has been here for all of three hours now, wandering about the safe part of the hold, quietly trying to piece together the information he'd gotten from that first tour. It had been mostly rushed, but he had managed to get an idea of where he was and what was going on. Both of these things were decidedly not good news.]

[He figures he'd better get to helping out with the monsters, wherever they were, but first, he wanted to try to get other takes on the situation, see where he'd be best off, maybe get someone to fight with. Or maybe just wait it out.]

[Nonetheless, have a blue-haired kid on the feed, looking far calmer than any normal teen in this situation has any right to be.]

Can't say I know entirely what's going on here, but I've been told enough. I'm guessing I'm the reinforcements.

So, what should I do and where should I go?

[Straight down to business. It might be a better idea for him to rest up a bit first, but getting right into the action meant that he didn't have to brood on everything and everyone he just lost by being taken away from home.]

[ After a long search, Takegami has found something he just wants to share with everyone. But instead of showing it to people, he is just going to play it. So enjoy a little piano music over the new netbooks.

Then he will sigh and the video is turned on. The room is disused and dusty, water stains on the walls and various plant life creeping inside. Maybe at one time the room had been full of artwork and elegant furnishings but now it was all crumbling, though a few pieces looked intact. ]

Ah, there. It's back in tune. Do you know how hard it is to tune such an instrument without the right tools? [ The camera swivels around so he can look at all you lovely people and smile. ]

The only question is how to it back to the City in one piece. I don't suppose any of you can help me, can you?

So, what with how, uh, dreary it's been around here -- assuming that it's actually any drearier than usual, I guess -- I thought we could maybe use some lightening up. And what with Halloween approaching, I think a celebration of quality cinema is in order. [ He says "Halloween" as though it is actually slightly painful to refer to the date by that name. ] I took the liberty of delving into the Initiative's archives for these classics, and they're all on a shelf in the front of the library now, if anyone is interested.

[ He turns the camera to display the shelf in question. It is full of VHS tapes, bearing such titles as Dawn of the Dead (1978), Dracula 2000, Howling V, Sometimes They Come Back... Again, and Tales from the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood. None of the films were released later than the year 2000, they all seem to feature supernatural creatures prominently, and most of them are, frankly, pretty awful. ]

I'm not... exactly familiar with all of them. [ He holds up a copy of 1992's Buffy the Vampire Slayer starring Kristy Swanson. ] I mean, this looks a lot like Muffy the Werewolf Slayer? I'm not uh... sure if it's the same thing?

Anyway. You're welcome, Exsilium.

[A deep, vaguely feminine voice comes through the audio feed. It seems like its owner is practiced at addressing people in this way, concise and confident with the words.] New arrival. I am not the only one. That is my understanding. Many faces, strange faces. Fear and uncertainty. Emerging from the tunnels. Many species.

[A pause for consideration.] Light exists here. A good sign. Literal light. I have been to worlds with no day. I feared this was the same. A better sign: hope persists.

A purpose here. I will assume one. Where is assistance needed?

[For anyone that happens to be looking at the network when it comes back online, they will find not a familiar face (at least not for most). The will find a very large man, clad in battleworn dreadplate, made of a metal only a few would recognize, particularly if they've consorted with Koltira Deathweaver in any fashion. His hair is ghost white an wispy, face skeletal and skin pale.

The most striking feature is his glowing blue eyes, just a hint of stark green behind them, which is most noticeable when he turns his gaze to the camera, large gloved hand still reaching for the communicator, as if he just finished how to figure it out. Briefly, his expression narrows and he shifts to one knee, which allows the view of Frostmourne in his other hand beside him. He then looks up as there is noise of someone approaching offscreen. A devilish, predatory smirk replaces the previous grim expression for a moment before he looks back down at the screen, the expression smoothing to something almost friendly.]

Rumor has it you're all just dying for a breath of fresh air. I have ways of fixing that.

[ The feed is staticky and the image is dim, but it is still quite easy to make out long ears and bright green eyes thanks to an orb of light hovering somewhere off camera. His chin is propped in his hand, and he looks weary and almost bored. ]

Well, you lot certainly know how to make someone feel welcome around here. I don't know if I'll be able to handle this much excitement if it's going to be the norm. Not that I'm not thankful that the walls have stopped shaking and all. [ He gives a bit of a grimace at that, even if it's fleeting. ]

Anyway. Anyone else looking for a way to kill the time while we're stuck down here hiding like rats and whatnot?

[ He pauses, and then: ]

And by that, I mean something to do that's not offering up my jugular.

[ the post starts with a view of pointy, shark-like teeth, before it suddenly cuts off and there's some fumbling before finally

tyrian pink text starts appearing on the screen. ]

ok
what the glubbin fuck is goin on
38o

[The voice is coming into and out of focus, but it doesn't seem to care. It's clipped, and determined.]

They really know how to roll out the welcome mat, don't they? I feel— [buzz and static] ain't the Blitz, but— [more of the same]

I heard the Avengers were here, and I wanna sit-rep. This is [more static] Captain America. [While the reception ain't great, anyone who knows him can tell this is Not Steve.]

I need to know what I'm dealing with.

[ The feed crackles and hisses for a moment, gaining its bearings under the rush of dust clouding the area. That explosion is nasty, affecting even some closer outside areas, much like the one this little guy is in right now.

He isn't here to dilly-dally around. Shadow's stern voice is a clear sign that he means business and he is not taking any bull. ]

If you know what is good for you, avoid the explosion site at all costs. Only those qualified are allowed to approach.

[ Yes, he does think he falls under that category. Ultimate Lifeform and all, you know? Of course, he isn't doing so just yet - he's looking for answers from the Initiative first - but he plans on it. ]

If anyone has vital information to pass along, contact me. If not, do not even bother wasting my time. There is no time to play games.

[ ... and the feed ends on that note. Just a tad rude there. ]

[a soft crackle as the tablet is set down, then--]

Welcome to the Initiative. Enjoy this bomb.

Really, what kind of greeting is this?

[--a pause --]

Anyone know if these tunnels will really hold up or are we going to get buried alive?