Oh for the love of--

[One blue-eyed, human-looking guy in a weird helmet, squinting at you all. Pete's having trouble with the netbook. It's actually too primitive for him to figure out easily, and he only meant to do voice.]

...Flark. This is broadcasting, isn't it?

[He scrubs a hand over his face.]

Right. I'm Star-Lord, and unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, I would still like to take this opportunity to ask how I ended up here, and to go on record as saying I am really ☠☠☠☠☠☠☠ sick of time travel.

[Because swearing on an open broadcast is the absolute best way to make a first impression, Pete. He cuts the feed after a second without saying anything more. Anyone he wants to see right now will get in touch.]

( When Charles appears on the video screen, he looks happier than ever. Well, happier than... is standard practise, for this place, and especially given his recent interpersonal shenanigans. Still, he's smiling. )

Hello, everyone. I've rather a large request—I will understand if the need does not suit you—but I do hope that you'll hear me out.

I would like to establish a school, here in Exsilium. It would be for everyone, of all ages. I've received permission, and salary funding, from the Initiative, to gather both teachers and students to... ah, well. ( Charles' expression shifts to an apologetic one. ) To help me refurbish this building and make it a proper educational institution.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will let you all know that I've acquired an old building. It's not in the best of shape, and will need to be fixed up—that is where you come in. Soon, I will need teachers; students, too. But for now—for now, all I need is some volunteers to turn this place into a functional establishment.

( Charles presses a button on his netbook, and this picture appears. )

Your help would be incredibly appreciated.

Thank you very much.

[Video]

I have seen some impressive things since arriving here, I will admit. This video device alone is amazing in how it changes my research, and these weapons are definitely clever.

However, I've noticed a distinct lack of treasure. There's no gold coins, no jewels, no grimoires of ancient lore or magic, no hidden stashes of magic armor. At least none that I've found.

How am I supposed to build a proper horde if all the money I can find is these little slips of paper or pieces of...I guess it's called "plastic." There's no sense of weight to it at all!

[Action]

Ricasthix has chosen his new lair's location very carefully and has tried to be sneaky about it. However dragons are not without their weaknesses. First of all, it is hard to be sneaky when you're forty feet long and get around mostly by flying. Secondly, a dragon's greatest flaw is underestimating non-dragons. Any other transports that are fast enough on their feet, or just generally clever enough, can probably track his movements back to a cave on a small mountain/large hill a few miles beyond the city limits.

Who wants to explore a dragon's lair?

[Currently, the netbook is upside down when it's finally turned on, so there's a weird angle on the young woman's face as she leans into super close to the screen. Seriously, she spent about twenty minutes pressing buttons and commanding the mirror to turn on. Anyone paying attention to the network probably saw a lot of keysmashing and hearing her say some crap like "Mirror Mirror". :| It's pretty embarrassing.] This is a piece of junk. Is this like one of the magic mirrors I've heard about? Because it's no wonder only witches have them.

[Her cheeks puff out a bit as she moves back, and while the video is still upside down, you can make out that while the girl is pretty, her dark hair is messy and full of leaves, her clothes are slightly dirty, and she's scowling pretty intensely.] I am sick of magic. And also people holding me against my will. [The girl taps at the screen, hard.] Or people using me for their own means. [Basically? There's a long list of things that Belle is sick of.]

Send me home. I will make any deal you want, give you anything you ask for.

It looks like the indignant rage thing is pretty much covered on this one, so I'll spare you all of that.

I really just have one, big, and potentially day-ruining question.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't exactly keep a personal diary of harrowing mental experiences lying around. They have access to our memories. Good access. Access good enough that they could throw us into them without permission.

Naturally this is leading to a healthy suspicion aimed primarily towards all the new goodies we're getting from the supposed La Resistance.

They can get into our memories, I don't think it's that big of a leap to think everything else in our brains is at stake, do you?

[Emma does not even have time for your nonsense, Initiative. However, she has neither woken up, nor has her team appeared to rescue her, so apparently she has to cope. Emma hates coping. But what she hates rarely has any bearing on what she actually has to do, and so she shoves her rising irritation back where only a hint of it can leak through to her voice and expression, and records herself a video post.

Look, Exsilium, it's a sharply beautiful blond woman who's got the camera pointed such that it doesn't look like she's wearing anything besides a choker. It's accidental, but she's too annoyed to care and fix the angle, so there you go.]

I should, I suppose, introduce myself to my fellow conscripts. My name is Emma Frost, and I'm simply delighted to make your acquaintance. [The observant might note that she is not, in point of fact, currently delighted about anything whatsoever.] One hopes no one else from my timeline has ended up here, but we've never been that lucky. Be a dear and check in, hmm?

[She's from a comic book. Of course she assumes she's going to know anyone else from her world who got stuck here. That's how things work.]

[The screen is black for a long moment, though the speakers seem to be working, passing along the soothing and lovely sound of someone banging their finger against a spot too near the microphone. Finally, though, the camera blooms to life, and give those watching a great look at the massive brown eye being shoved right up against the camera. A young woman’s voice is again too close to the mic]

Honestly, whoever enchanted this thing is a master artist. I can’t even detect a hint of magic around it, and yet it seems to be working just fine. I’m not sure why they made it look like a flat brick and not a proper crystal ball or mirror is beyond me.

[She sighs, pulling back slightly to reveal a young woman with slightly pointed ears and exotic features who looks anywhere between 15 and 23]

Oh wait, right, that would require someone to become a powerful archmage without going so utterly mad that they start running around creating whatever pops into their heads. [She holds it back further and shakes her head.] At least it isn’t an owlbear.

So, am I to take it there are those out there who can hear me?

[Oh hello there, Exsilium, have the face of a bright-eyed girl that looks way too excited to be here. It seems after much technology abuse and generally failing at turning it on, she finally gets the video working! Success for a failure]

Don't worry, fellow kidnapped people of Exhelium! [That's 'Exsilium', Maya] You don't have to explain everything, I've got it aaaaaall figured out. In fact, I'm an Ace Explainer myself, so just sit back and let me break it down for you, Maya-style!

We're in future England! [This is probably the only fact she's gotten right, but-] Brought here by the United Earth people because they're being oppressed by the Initiative! [And then there's a pause for some very Deep and Philosophical Thoughts. ...Not.] ... I bet it's the tea. England's known for its tea, you know? Anyone would be jealous of that selection!

... But anyway, we've been brought here because we've got to go into the future to change the past! It's just like that movie with Mikey K. Box, except with tea on the line as well as time! [WHAT WAS IT CALLED AGAIN..... Oh, well]

But more importantly than all of that.... I have a question. [SUDDENLY SERIOUS? Look, she's even leaning into the camera all dramatically] A question that will change the fate of the entire world! [Whatever's left of it] Well, mostly me right now, but for everyone's sake, I need an answer!

[There's a long, long pause as she stares intently into the camera. And then:]

Where's the nearest burger joint? I'm starved! And if we're really in the future they must have invented a way for burgers to be even more delicious! Right?

[... And then there's a brief flash of embarrassment, and when she continues she's a little more low-key] ... Um, and how do I get to the housing place? Unit... 406, I think?

 You know, I've been here a few weeks, and in that time I think I've finally figured out a pattern to the madness. I've noticed a lot of people, like me, are pretty confused as to why we've been chosen out of everyone from our home...uh, time-slash-planet-slash-continuum.

Well. I think I have the answer.

The reason why we've all been chosen specifically to fight the Evil Empire and generally bring truth and justice and time paradoxes to the universe.




We're all criminally hot.

No, seriously! I've talked to a few people around here- not one uggo around. Even the scaley aliens I'm sure are the hottest scaley aliens you can find! It's a conspiracy, I say.

Don't worry, you can thank me later.

[ SCIENCE ]

So my gun, it's supposed to just…get stronger right? [ Hello network, here's a face you haven't seen in a while. Dean's been trying to learn what this place is all about, but today finds him in the training hall with his beloved .45 caliber Colt. He's shaking the damn thing like its offended him somehow. ] Maybe mine is broken…

[ Hm. Tucking it away, he has another thing to ask. ]

Also, a year on freakin' paradise beach land has left me feelin' all sorts of rusty. Anyone up for a little rough-n-tumble? [ Meaning sparring. But take it as you want, especially since the look he's giving the device speaks of entirely different sort of fun. ] Y'know, of the physical sort.

Hello? Helloooo? Ugh, how does this stupid thing work? [Korra has somehow managed to turn on the video function on her communicator. She has no idea how. But you can watch her tapping ineffectually on the keyboard.] If they're gonna kidnap us and give us this stuff they should t least explain stuff instead of being all cryptic. How the heck am I supposed to talk to people with this weird little box? And what's the little light on for? [She hits another button and the machine lets out a beep.] Gah! [She drops it, and the feed cuts out.]

((Obviously, she isn't going to responding anything via communicator, but feel free to come find the poor technologically-impaired girl wandering around looking confused.))

[ Got to love the dramatic angles born of resting a netbook thing with built in camera on the lap, swinging what appears to be a pocket watch in front of the camera itself with methodical deliberation. Collette quirks up an eyebrow, then grins, looking past her watch to the eye of the lens itself. ]

All right, I've got a stop-watch on a chain and one burning question:

Does that make me a battle hypnotist or a trainer? A girl needs to know.

Hi everyone, I have an important announcement, so please listen! I am look for someone and I think they went home but I want to be sure!

[ Feferi, who looks a little too excited for the context, holds up a crayon drawing so that it takes up the whole image. ]

( image cut )

This is Nik and he's really cute and he's also little. So that's why I want to make sure no one's seen him. When it comes to wigglers, you can never be too certain. Anyway, that's all. Thank you for your time!

[So. Shepard's caught wind of that children's book. Oh, yeah. And also the movies. :'D

She's leaning back in a chair, laughing as the video turns on.] Hey, Vanille, Sora. We're literary legends. [Her head shakes.] Team, I think we should all get together sometime, watch these movies. 

[Her chin rests in her palm, smirk still firmly planted on her face.] Weird, to think we were gone for so long, and time barely passed here at all.

Right. I was wondering if any of you might have come across... A hobby shop, maybe. I used to have model ships back on the Normandy, and if I'm going to be stuck here, I think I'd like to jazz my room up. [Yeah...

The big bad commander is...

totally a nerd.]

[The video feed clicks on, showing a pretty young lady wearing blue and silver armor. One might notice dark circles under her eyes, making her look as though she hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. She doesn't acknowledge the netbook right away, instead staring down at the staff in her lap, eyebrows knitted together in thought.

After a moment, she finally looks up, addressing the camera, and rolls her eyes irritably.]

No one ever wants a mage around, I've noticed, unless they think we can be useful for something. And it's always something. First darkspawn, and now I'm fighting a blighted war for some strangers.

I think I'd rather the war, though, so I'll play along. Speaking of which - there are other Grey Wardens here. Or perhaps I still have to deal with darkspawn, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. So, if I may ask who's out there... Stroud? Anyone else from Vigil's Keep?

[She moves to reach for the 'off' button, but freezes. It wouldn't hurt to introduce herself to everyone else here, instead of being such an angry jerk all the time, she realizes. SIGH, her life is so hard. B(]

Ah, and - my name is Bethany Hawke. If I didn't just make it completely obvious, I'm one of your newest "transports." [She bows her head politely.] A pleasure, I'm sure.

[The video turns on and there's a woman staring right at you. Messy blonde hair, dark skin and green eyes is about as much as you can see, as the bottom half of her face is covered by her jacket. Actually, there's something else: hints of a white... surface beneath her eyes. What is it? Hard to say from this view. Moving on.

She's still staring, rather intently at that, as she finally addresses those who are watching.]

That I would be asked to fight for them only shows me how little they know.

[She stops short of declaring whether or not she'll actually do so. Fighting for humans? It wasn't too long ago that she was involved in destroying their cities.

She's taken a bit of time to browse through the network before making herself known. Observation was an area Halibel excelled in, and she has learned quite a bit already.]

I'll only ask about one matter: my weapon's evolution.

Tell me as much as you're able to.

So this has to be some crazy attempt at super-speed Stockholm, right? I mean. 'Hey, we kinda kidnapped you and can't- or won't tell you when you get to see home, sandy burny, home again. But look! Credit cards and talking weapons, cool, right? Okay thanks bye, have fun now.' Who does that? As though I'm gonna forget the whole first part because I get shiny things which- Okay. Sure. This gig officially pays more than most of the jobs I had since college start combined and they actually encourage liberal taser usage...but come on. Dorm rooms? And wars...

You know. I miss when, like, two weeks ago I would have assumed I was just having some kinda psychotic break here. You meet one alien god and suddenly it's no holds barred...Alright. Okay.

So. The point here. The nice Stockholm lady said to call. I'm calling. Survival tips people. I'm in serious need here. Starting with where the heck my dorm is.

Right. Let's make a few things clear from the start, shall we?

I'm Anders. I'm a mage. A spirit healer, more specifically. I do not work for the Initiative, nor can I give anyone Cheetos. I still don't know what a Cheeto is.

If you're accessing this message, you're either working for the Initiative yourself, spying on the network, or else you're one of us. Someone who's been torn from his or her own world, who's wondering what in the Void's going on here. Our hosts, or captors, whichever, call us transports. I call us conscripts, because that is exactly what we are. We've been conscripted into this war they're fighting, and since they give us food and shelter and spare coin, presumably they feel they've done right by us. They've no qualms about sending us into their ill-chosen battles, anyhow.

I don't like them much, if you hadn't guessed. The best thing I can say for them is: I like their enemies even less.

People are talking about making some sort of a guide, to orient new conscripts. Well, that doesn't do you much good, now, does it? So ... consider this an opportunity to ask questions. You might take the answers with a grain of salt, mind. Some of us have a sense of humor.

Oh, one other thing. If you're a mage, or use a power that could feasibly be termed magic -- I don't care what you call it, mana, magicka, gramarye -- anything that isn't sleight of hand. If you're a practitioner of magic, you're invited to our next meeting. I say meeting; really it's more just mages sitting around and eating pie. Not like you can organize mages, really. Write me if you'd like directions to our place.

[At first it's just a huge puff of black hair in the screen, rustling about, but then the screen adjusts itself and a pale skinny teenage girl is sitting in front of the camera with an impish grin. She coughs loudly into her hand.]

Testing, testing, one, two, one, two, blah blah blah! All right geeks, listen up. Lash speaking, reporting in, whatever!
I don't know what is even going on around here, but can I just say one eensy weensy little thing?

[She reaches off screen, wrestling with something that sounds really heavy. After a few moments, she comes back with a very sci-fi looking gun in hand. It's a little oversized, but she holds it comfortably like a rifle.]

Check out my shiny new baby, the DEATH RAY! Teeheehee!

I mean, all right, I'll admit this place was totally weird and that lady was even a bigger weirdo when I was JUST abducted or whatever, but how can I stay mad when they just give me free cool stuff like this?! Huh? HUH?? I can't! I feel like I'm 10 all over again! Teeheehee!

Anyway, who're all you losers out there? Anyone get some spiffy swag like I did?

[ Takegmai has found a small dusty instrument shop in the city. After all the rioting and the recovery with the rioting, he seems to be in a reflective mood as he wandered the instruments. Upon finding a piano, he takes a few minutes running through the chords before the video feed is turned on and the netbook is set to where people can hear him play. The feed shows mainly part of the piano lid and Takegami's face.

His face is as serene as it could get, and the music is like falling rain, full of promise and regrets. After the last notes fade, he sits for a moment, eyes still closed before sighing softly. ]

A pity there is no room in the apartment. [ His mouth twists; roommates. Taking up valuable space with their noise and mess. ]

It seems they are still bringing people in to fight this war. I had hoped they would start explaining matters better but I see they are not. So. I propose those that been here the longest put together a... Guide of sorts for others to read. It will make things a little easier and less repetitive.

Or so one hopes.

[ A nod, and he turns the netbook off. ]

[Jane is looking at her netbook's camera in a mix of dismay, disbelief, and a definite aura of trying to play along with the cosmic joke.]

Seriously? A question, if I may. If I am to fight, why would they choose a physicist? I mean, seriously, come on. This has got to be a giant joke, and I don't have time for it. I mean, yeah weapons, and all that, and an allowance, but that's easy enough to fake. Either that, or I've gone insane from running around with gods and giant suits of armor belching fire. Would anyone care to confirm this or do I wait for someone to jump out and yell 'Suprise!'?

[ For the moment, the video function remains off. Which is a shame, because dem ginger curls. But he's testing the waters, so for now it's only the Scottish brogue that filters over the network. ]

It figures. The one time I dial 999 and nobody bloody answers.

[ It's probably a good thing no one answered; Ashley isn't even sure what he would have said. This was all too surreal already. ]

That's just typical; years of loyal service and putting up with government standards and this is the thanks I get.

So who am I talking to? To whom do I owe the great honour of experiencing this mental clusterfuck, and when do I get to wake up? More importantly, where can I find a pack of cigarettes. Mine's almost out.

[ All things considered, Ashley sounds pretty calm. His tone is light, if a bit annoyed, though the sarcasm that laces his every word runs deep. ]

[ Marco sits on his bed, looking amused and annoyed at the same time. ]

Dear aliens or government officials who have probably kidnapped me and are about to commence brainwashing or hideous torture:

You could've at least thrown in a Baywatch poster for the cell room. Preferably one that doesn't have Hasslehof. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the guy and his ridiculous amounts of exposed chest hair, but a guy's last days really should be in the company of two dimensional Carmen, if it's not too much trouble.

Hell, let's just assume you're feeling extra courteous today and throw in a bag of Cheetos and a can of Mountain Dew. A guy's last day has got to have some junk food with it.

And really, this thing? [ he waves the device ] A little outdated, don't you think? I don't see a single port for dial-up. What good's a comm system if it doesn't have internet? A guy's last day should be spent checking his final fantasy football score.

So. If it's not too much trouble, which I doubt it is since you kidnapped me and I'm being a remarkably good sport about the whole thing, my demands:

[holds up one finger ]

Carmen.

[ holds up another ]

Junk food.

[ one more ]

Fantasy Football.

See? Only three. Man, I'm letting you guys off easy.