[The camera clicks on to reveal a skinny kid with a mess of brown hair. He's holding the tablet in front of him, so the view's a bit shaky; it doesn't help that he's fidgeting and gesturing with his other hand as he speaks, first and foremost being a quick and awkward wave hello.]

Hey. Hello? This is on, right? You know, they should put a light on these things to show they're transmitting. Maybe they do, I didn't really - [Barely a pause as he checks himself, gets back on track.]

Sorry. Hi, my name's Peter. Peter Parker. So I got the welcome tour, and I guess my big question is - where can we get decent food around here?

[Priorities. He got most of the relevant info the other day, anyway. He almost looks like he's done, but then he abruptly remembers something and speaks up again in a rush.] And I made a thing. I mean, I didn't really make it, I just re-made it. I probably messed some of it up, but I guess nobody here's going to know any better, right?

It's for Collette, but I figured anybody could use it. Let me know if you have questions, or just type "help" and it should cover the bases. And don't forget to use your lanterns. [And Peter out - no wait, just kidding. He's half a second from ending the transmission before he stops.]

It's a game, by the way. The thing.

[He's done for real this time, pending an attachment:]

► ATTACHMENT 1: zork.exe

What moron's in charge of the machine that's bringing in the new people.  It's like they decided to say the hell with trying to win this war, we're just going to keep throwing bodies at it till something works.

Anyway.  Back to normal, blah blah.  I'd apologize for what an asshole I grow up to be, but I can't really remember too much of what he did [ He's lying. ], so there's not much point.  Just be glad I'm back to my regular charming self.

[Filtered from Collette (as useless of a gesture as that may be) ]

But uh.  There's a reason for this besides the not-apology.  I don't exactly have anyone specific I can ask, because.  Well, because.  So I figured I'd just kinda throw it out there.

So, uh.  How does dating work?

I mean, I'm not a total social reject, I know how it works normally, but for like a specific girl.  And okay, the last date I went on back home didn't go too hot anyway.

[ He's just going to disconnect before he digs himself any deeper.  SMOOTH, JASON, REALLY SMOOTH. ]

I have a question.  How do you know when someone is flirting with you?  I just do not understand flirting at all so I do not know how to recognize it.  Or how to even flirt.  It never really seemed like such an important thing.  But apparently it is?

I mean, for us sylvari we are blunt.  If we like someone we tell them.  We do not see a reason to beat around the bush, you could say.    But it seems to be a thing the other races do.

[Silence for a few moments, as if she's debating on adding anything else.]

We have some new arrivals again.  Hello!  I hope you can find a way to make this place feel like home.

[ Someone is dressed in clothes that's obviously not his size. His shirt is obviously too big for him and hangs off the side of his shoulder. It's white, and a little dulled and thin from too many washings. The coat he's wearing over the shirt is, on the reverse, a little bit too small for him, the sleeves pulled up tight against his shoulders. The coat is absolutely, completely filthy. It's the kind of coat that you find on a chimney sweep, if chimney sweeps have money to buy coat.

Someone's either thieving from dumpsters or clotheslines or stealing them from beggars. What do you mean, you can buy clothes? Why would you do that when you have free stuff all over the place? Sure, he can pickpocket people, but the easiest targets are in the clinic and he feels bad about stealing from the people who healed him.

Look, just be happy he has a shirt on, okay? He spent like most of the last week half-naked. (He doesn't like charity. Stealing is better than charity, honestly. At least he knows where those things come from.)

The camera spent most of the time stuck onto his shirt before Sharpe tilts it up to his face. Look at his chin! Wait, no, he has it in his face. He stares a little belligerently at the camera for a long moment before he drags a (callused, not very clean hand) through his (sweaty, not very clean) hair. ]

I've got two questions. [ One finger. ] Who knows a man named 'Richard Sharpe'?

[ Two fingers. ]

D'ya think anyone can change their class? Move up the ranks, so ta speak. A rat becoming a gentleman. Summat of that sort.

[ This is important, okay? He knows about his future self (one gets very, very bored on a hospital bed, and he has this tablet thing in his hand), and future Richard Sharpe calls himself a Major. That's puzzling, that's what he is. He doesn't know how he even gets promoted in the first place to Ensign, much less a goddamned Major, commanding entire divisions and maybe even regiments. He's a streetborn rat joining the army to avoid two consecutive murder charges. What the hell? ]

Oh! Hullo, everyone!

[Pippin is grinning, proud of himself for figuring out how to make a mass message, instead of just responding to one.]

I hope I'm not bothering anyone, but I was curious if anyone could tell me about the taverns here, such as which are the best, which are the worst, and so forth. You see, we Hobbits enjoy a fine ale just as much as the Big Folk, and it's been a frightfully long time since I've had one.

[He's exaggerating. It hasn't even been a month yet.]

So you see, I'd be most grateful if I could have this information, and perhaps we could even go together? Ehm, thank you for listening!

[He waves at the camera and then puts on his concentrating face as he tries to figure out how to end the message. But then suddenly he thinks of something and looks startled.]

I'm not offering to buy anybody a drink, mind you. I'm sure you're all lovely people, but I don't want to spend all my pocket money in one go. You understand, I'm sure.

Alright, lemme make sure I got this exact. We've been rounded up to fight in some dad-blamed future battle, and in the meantime we're supposed to sit around and twiddle our thumbs. Guess some things never change, huh?

Look, I got sympathy, I really do. You have terrific taste, bringing me here. I'm all aces. And hang, I hate to say no to a lady. Some of you have to be ladies, right?

[ Cough cough. Ahem. ]

But I'm all booked up. I got a date with Hitler and his Nazi crum-bums. I can't stick around for this.

[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.]

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 voice speaking doesn't exactly match the 15 year old kid who's usually talking.  It's gruffer and more sardonic than the kid's ever was. ]

Guess it's my lucky day.  Got dropped right back in here with all my memories intact.

[ Most of them anyway.  He's fuzzy on a whole lot and trying to sort through all this new shit makes his head hurt, but he won't let on to it.  He considers reaching out for a minute, maybe trying to address a few people from those memories who might still be there.  He doesn't. ]

Since I'm here, might as well do something I've never done before.  Where can a guy get a decent drink in this shithole?

[ When the video feed flickers on, it catches the girl from an extreme angle. She comes into clear view as she holds up the tablet and frowns at it.

The face is familiar, but there are differences. Thin always, she's too skinny now; her eyes are almost too big on her face. Her hair is a little longer and raggedly cut. Her clothes, a once fine page's garb, have turned to rags.

Sitting on the ground, Arya turns the tablet over. Her legs and the ground come briefly into view. She tosses the tablet aside with a frustrated sound. Enjoy that shot of the sky. Well. Clouds. ]

This is all stupid.

Blood from a bloodpack tastes so foul. I don't suppose anyone would be willing to... donate, some of their own?

I promise, I'll be quite gentle.

[ Think that message was weird? Here's something even weirder: There is zero background noise in this message. No static, no voices, no wind. Nothing. Begging the question of where he is. ]

 [ Here's a jerk in a faded t-shirt and sunglasses, tossing an old, ragged rugby ball from hand to hand.  It's the crack of dawn and he's been digging around the Hold's training areas, because seriously, who sleeps?  COME SAY HI.]

I've been thinking, this place only has to speeds: Slow and Something is Trying to Kill Us.  I mean, sure we had that masquerade ball thing a while back and managed not to blow up anything, but every other time, something's trying to kill us in these really dramatic ways.  We need some Scooby-Do hijinks mixed in to level this shit out.

[ He stops tossing the ball and holds it up to the camera.]

Anyway, object lesson for all of you swords and sorcery types out there.  This is a rugby ball.  It's a piece of equipment used in a game where two teams try to run it down the length of a field and score points.  

I think.  I'm actually not clear on how you play rugby aside from it's a pretty good excuse to kick the crap out of your friends in the name of sportsmanship.  The more ya know.

Speaking of knowing shit, not sure if someone's put out the note yet, but if you're looking for a blonde mechanic, Winry's gone.

[ This post has been brought to you by restless vigilante kids who don't know how to handle emotions.]

[ it's been a while since Gamora has actually made her own post on the network but nothing has really changed - green skin, blank white eyes, unimpressed expression. classic Gamora. ]

It's been more than a month since the United Earth tried to kill us, and I'm not expecting it to last much longer. Nothing like the constant threat of death to make a place feel like home.

[ the zombies don't count. blah blah, new arrivals seems to be the only thing going on, see how much Gamora cares about that. instead there's another thing occupying her mind. ]

Has anyone's weapon actually evolved yet? Godslayer does exactly what it says, it doesn't need improvement. But seeing as it's going to anyway I might as well know what to expect.

[ flagged to Peter Quill: ]

Buy me a drink.

[ flagged to Gordon Freeman: ]

You're mentioned in some notes Adam Warlock made before vanishing. If you want them, take them.

[She's not overly fond of this thing, but it's got it's uses, and Ygritte is growing all the more bored here. Though there's still places to explore, things to do. She wants to know more about this place though. She's still undecided on the plight. On one hand, a rebel cause is one that burns within her. On the other, no one tells her what to do.]

I can't stay in this place f'much longer like this. I need somethin' to do, t'work with my hands. None o' this Initiative stuff though. I choose m'own sides and who I'm goin' t'follow.

I don't know m'own letters though. Not somethin' you learn above the Wall. But I've skinned any animal, built shelter, fought before-- [She huffs. Without Jon, without her people, she grows bored. And really it's safer for Arthur everyone if she can busy herself.]

Just need somethin' t'do.

[Today, you are getting a grey alien kid on the communicator.]

Okay, so apparently we're supposed to introduce ourselves. I can't tell if this is required or not, but what the hell.

Hi. It's Karkat. Here is where my boast about my impressive indispensibility to your army goes, but...look, I don't need to talk up my own shit to you, your stupid human organization is the one that brought me here. Either my value will become obvious or it won't.

Anyway, yes, I'm a troll, I get the impression you've already been introduced to the concept. But please don't make assumptions about me based on the others you've met because let me tell you, this is basically the worst of the genetic slurry poured into a concentrated pool of stench right onto your lap. They are pretty much all top contenders for the biggest embarrassments to the empire in our entire history.

So if you have any questions, you can ask me, probably, unless I get tired of listening to it.

[The feed opens to an upwards shot of this guy. His expression is hard to read but a sharp ear might be able sense a bit of boredom in his tone. There are scatterings of white fur dotting his black armor, which he brushes off with clear distaste as he speaks.]

There are multiple theories about the afterlife. You humans have more than a few of your own. I believe rebirth is one of them. Eternal damnation another. Both too extreme for me but I expected something similar.

Needless to say, this place has… altered my expectations. Next time, I'll be sure to anticipate more fur.

[Hear that Korra? Yeah that's aimed at you and your little dog, too. Speaking of which, he brushes more white fur off his shoulder and continues, mandibles raised slightly in an alien grin.]

As for the rest of you, since introductions seem to be the standard here, allow me to make my own. [The grin disappears, replaced by a cold, unreadable expression.] My name is Nihlus Kryik. I… was a Spectre under the authority of the Citadel Council. Some here will recognize what that means, the rest of you shouldn't concern yourselves with it. All you need to know is that I'm here to help.

Guys. Guys! This is the most amazing thing I've seen yet...

( Collette holds up some sort of smartish or at least MUCH BETTER THAN THE 90'S cellular phone in blue. She grins, looking at someone offscreen, then actively begins demonstrating for the tablet. Talk about weird angles and table and propped up provided steadycam. )

This? Is a cell phone. It takes pictures! It plays games. It even plays music. Sure the reception in the future is totally bad but that doesn't diminish how amazing this technology is! Look at it! This is the phone your phone could aspire to be!

( Then, from off-screen: )

... Please give my cellphone back. ( That? That is a very heavy Japanese accent because REALLY NOW. NAOTO WANTS HER PHONE PLZ. )

So Vanadi's hosting the big Masquerade Ball later this month, and that got me to thinking...

( Collette starts ticking things off on her fingers. )

There's no age limit, everyone's going to be wearing a mask and in costume, there's no supervision, and one of the most common questions out of new people showing up here is "where's the nearest bar," so it'll also have alcohol. Lots of it.

( Collette leans forward, chin resting on her interlaced hands, elbows on the table. She grins. )

This is so much better than Prom would ever be.

All this shit is pretty above my pay grade, so it's not like I'm speaking from experience here or anything, but it seems like we got a crazy ass mix of folks around here.  I don't think I've ever seen so many aliens in m life and I come from a world where those guys are all over the freakin' place.

Though I gotta say, it's freakin' weird to be around a bunch of people who've never heard of Kryptonians before. [Just.  Throwing that word out there.  Vaguely hopeful.]

Anyway.  It's late, I'm bored.  We've got a shit load of aliens and sword and sorcery types up in here.  Tell me somethin' good about your world.  Or tell me something shitty, we can swap horror stories.

[It's late at night, which means it's time for punks in masks asking bullshit questions on the network to keep themselves from broody navel gazing.  Not sleeping is kind of a thing for him, but this not brutalizing strangers who really deserve it thing is kinda new and borderline unpleasant.  Feel free to spot a brightly colored spot skulking around rooftops.]

Well, that was something of an adventure! Between the Russians, the newest arrivals, and our monstrous friends, why there's been quite a few things to keep track of. An awful lot of people. One of which in particular I seem to have misplaced... I don't suppose anyone has seen Bela lately? Bela Talbot?

[ A pause, as if he's actually listening for a reply. Or maybe just asking a completely rhetorical question and taking a moment to gather himself afterward. ]

Well, it was always difficult to keep her in just one place. Not like Sierra, Annalise, and Adamo, three natives caught by the UE bombs, near a month ago now. I would say they were entirely too — too stationary. That old woman in the market, too— with the jerky stand? She always claimed it was dog meat, but I really had to wonder. But she always had a kind word for anyone who stopped to chat, didn't she? I found a bit of her stand some time ago, but no sign of her. Maggie, she told me her name was...

My apologies, to anyone who knew any of those caught in disaster. At least we've managed to turn this latest one back to the status quo, mm? We have that much.

[ Another pause, and this one comes with a slow breath out. So... that's awkward. But! He can make it better. When he speaks again, he sounds just as cheerful as he had at the beginning. ]

You know, for all their flukes and faults, I would say there's one thing the Initiative is truly bad at. They can throw our lot into a room with food set out, but that's not any sort of party. So I propose we arrange one ourselves! We've the musicians for it, don't we? The cooks, surely! The tailors, seamstresses? We certainly have the headcount for it, by now!

Any opinions, mm? I'm thinking, perhaps, a masquerade. A ball! We kitrites excel at the organization of them, you know. I would be pleased to offer my services to a properly interested crowd! Have I any takers?

[ It really can’t be that hard to use this tablet, you unfold it, press a few buttons, enable some options—bam. I bet Nightwing would love getting his hands on something like this. It takes Conner less than a minute to figure out which button enables what during which time he talks to himself at first: ]

I can’t be the only one here. And why would she thank me? I don’t like this.

[ Then he realizes it’s recording (whoops). He clears his throat. In any case— ]

... M’gann? [ Wait. She's the last person he should be trying to get a hold of. ] Nightwing? Can you hear this?

If you can hear this, I think it’s important that we group up and figure out what exactly’s going on around here.

[ They’ll know it’s him by his voice he’s sure. And hey - if they don't pick up on his transmission then someone else likely will. ]

[GODS how do you use this thing? Hiccup will be pushing buttons and every now and then there's a short 'Wow', or 'Well that didn't work.' or... various other mildly frustrated phrases and then finally.]

Okay... so I push this and... tilt it like. Oh! Hey, I think it's working. If that... green light thing means what I think it means.

Okay! So. ... Everyone. I guess. [Man, how's he going to put this? He'll speak slowly, it's obvious he's double thinking this. Enjoy the elaborate hand gestures as he tries to describe his sentences.]

I haaave a question for you.

[More hesitation and some minor background noise since no one responds right away.]

I guess I should just come out and say it then, huh?

Right um. So how does everyone feel aboooouuut dragons?

Not that. You know, it's a big deal or something to be worried about or anything. Just... a general question of curiosity. Right. [Not suspicious, nope. NOPE.]

I'll just... hope somebody actually heard that.

Can I ask someone some questions about human parents? Like if you have them, or if you are one!

[ With the way Feferi has her face all up in the camera, you would think she had never used technology before. But no, she's just very exuberant, more so than usual. ]

Oh yeah, and that's not the only thing I wanted to say! So who remembers that we were working on a guide for new people? Well, it's finally ready!

[ Link Attached: A Newbie's Guide to Exsilium ]

But before I print it out, I want everyone to see it. What do you all think? And some people can be relieved that there are only plain, boring fonts, thanks to the all the help I got! If anyone else has anything to add, tell me! Also, it would be great if some people would volunteer as contacts for the new people. You know, like an on-call question answerer!

( ooc notes )

[ That gauntleted hand lingers a little long on adjusting the image; wherever she’s from the technology clearly isn’t too familiar. Finally with a click she gets it right, all ornamented red braids and polished lizard hide armor. She looks taut and restless already from where she’s sitting; mouth tight and bare legs uncrossed. And she’s missing her left arm from just above the elbow. ]

So they intend us to be warriors.

[ Her posture doesn’t change, but the hard set to her expression does. That there is an icy, unimpressed, almost world-weary face. ]

I continue to lack the time and the patience for these tests, Grandmother.

I don't want this. Where is she? WHERE IS THAT WOMAN?

This fight, their war... It means nothing to me!

[The voice, deep and distorted as it sounds, can just barely pass as female. Whoever this is, the grunts and heavy breathing should be enough to let others know how angry she is.]

They all think they can control me, tell me what to do.

THEY'RE WRONG.

[additional grunting, and pained noises go here.]

Let me go, now! I don't have time for this. I have to find Valentine.

Find her, and KILL HER!

 [ What's red and green and has a lung full of poison gas?  THIS MASKED DUMBASS!  And after playing it off as no big thing, because there was Work To Do, he's finally thinking that just maybe he should try to find some medicine.  His voice is hoarse and he has to speak in short sentences, usually in between fits of coughing. ]

So, hey.  Kinda awkward, but is there a doctor in the cave?

[ The feed jitters and shakes while the kid turns away to cough.  When he turns back, his grin is only a little forced. ]

But hey, at least the bombs stopped falling, right?

[ Oh hey, it's that confused looking barely-dressed lady that had been wandering around the courtyard in a haze of bemusement earlier! She's looking a little worse for the wear tonight. Her white fuzzy bathroom is blood spattered and torn at one shoulder, and there's strange tears at her cheek and nose. And possibly more attention-grabbing, there's a whole lot of blood coming out from under the hand cupped over one of her eyes.

Needless to say, she doesn't look pleased. ]

Finally. [ UGH THIS WHOLE TECHNOLOGY THING REALLY SUCKS. ]

Tell me someone can fix this.

[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.

[Emma doesn't advertise the fact, but she's pretty good with electronics. Which means she knows to dial back the resolution and select a highly redundant compression algorithm when she decides to make a video post over the currently-unreliable network.

So there's Emma, grainy and with some fuzzing around the edges, as unimpressed as ever, hair pulled up into a messy knot that somehow seems like she meant it to look like that.]

There are ground troops looking for the catacombs.

[How does she know that? Telepathy. Clever deduction. ]

Unfortunately, the surface is...inhospitable. If you don't need to breathe, or can otherwise shrug off a gas attack, I want to take a group up and see what we can do about thinning that herd, and perhaps getting a few answers.

[If you don't already know that Emma can turn into diamond, she looks ludicrously unqualified for what she's proposing, but her bearing shows no uncertainty at all.]

...Stark, that means you.