[The feed is staticky and has an annoying old-TV-on-the-fritz roll going on. Maria's sitting on a folded-up blanket with her back to the catacomb wall, bad leg stretched out in front of her. Not the best furniture in the world, but displaced persons can't be choosers.

She's also managed to scrounge up a tiny petroleum campstove and a very battered tin pot, in which she's currently making tea. The sky may be falling in a screwed-up, filthy future that none of them can escape, but THERE WILL BE TEA, DAMN IT. Her expression is meditative.]

In the world I come from there was once a war which wasn't a war. Two great powers running roughshod over little countries to prove how big they were to one another.

[There's a burst of audio static that drowns her out, although she keeps talking while she pulls the tea off the flame and cuts the gas.]

. . . never seemed to me that either one of them cared that much for what became of the little people they were using for their pawns.

I do not consider that the Initiative or the United Earth are any different in that regard. It is not so much that we are caught between good guys and bad guys. Only between two great powers who see us as means to their own respective ends.

[She gazes calmly down at her tea, her body language and her placid delivery very much at odds with how pissed she actually is. She takes it personally when people drop bombs on her, okay?]

Nevertheless. I cannot speak for anyone else. But I intend to find my own best way to show the more brutish of the two great powers just what a very bad decision they made when they decided to fuck with me.

[If he were thinking clearly, Talbot would be approaching his first network transmission with a bit more finesse, restricting the communication to a voice or text message. But not only is he in a fix, he's fixated: if Drake or Sullivan were dragged down into this godawful place with him, he wants them to see his face; he wants them to experience the itching of a gaze on their backs every time they step outside.]

I need a surgeon. [The video feed is unreliable, but the splash of aged blood around the entry wound in his shoulder is hard to miss on the backdrop of his white shirt when it momentarily sputters into clarity. He tilts the screen up, putting his tired face into view.

There's a hiss of static, then:] --and I need information.

((OOC: If you're a castmate, your thread's probably going to get encrypted to prevent eavesdroppers!))

[Video | Open to all]

[His face takes up the screen.]

Hello.

I'm Atomic Robo Tesla, new arrival, and generally not happy about this whole abduction thing. I heard the sales pitch and I'm working out the general information.

At least it's not vampires.

Anyways, I want to get to know who I am working with here. So, who all is out there?


[Action | The Apartments and UNIT № 2 0 4]

[A robot in camo pants is checking out his room before heading out through the rest of the building.

He's just checking things out, but if he sees you walking around he will stop and say hi.]

[The first thing the feed shows is a blur of green and brown rushing past at amazing speeds, the ground rushing by at blinding speed; a blur of red and white in the corner, the toe of a sneaker going faster than any sneaker has a right to. Then the view lurches into a dizzying overhand spin as its carrier performs a fast series of flips, shuddering as he lands...]

[And then the spiky blue... THING, flashes a grin at the camera.]

Helooooo Exsilium! My name's Sonic: Sonic the Hedgehog! And it looks like I'm going to be fighting alongside you guys now! I just took an easy jog out to the coast and back; Those guys really take themselves seriously, huh? Blockades, machine guns, constant patrols... and that's for their own citizens! I dunno about you guys, but I can't wait to cut 'em down to size!

[The video clicks on to a claustrophobic view of what appears to be dark fabric, then abruptly shifts, tipping upwards to reveal a scowling man looking like he's seen (much) better days. Judging from the angle, the netbook is being propped up on his knee with one hand while he sits reclined against a wall; the other hand is pressed firmly to his stomach. It quickly becomes clear that the fabric isn't dark - it's just covered in blood, both beneath his hand and again at his left shoulder. His face is similarly accented by a few cuts and bruises, not to mention a fair amount of dirt.]

Testing, testing- [A strong English accent, interrupted by a cough.] I don't know what the hell this is about, but I'm guessing it's not heaven. Either way, I'd like to stick around long enough to find out. The odd woman said I could get assistance on this thing - so here I am, calling for assistance.

Can I get a sodding doctor over here?

Ooh, I think I got it to work!  The little light's blinking. That's like the universal sign for 'working', isn't it? [ the young girl, clad in a quite.. quirky outfit peers at the camera on the device quizzically. ] That means I'm being recorded, right? Well, a magician has to keep up appearances, so! Hello, Citizens of Exsilium! My name's Trucy Wright, Ace Magician! Maybe you've heard of me! Or maybe you've heard of daddy, that usually seems to be the case. [ she bounces on her heels a bit. ] I don't really know what's going on, but while I'm stuck here, let's have some fun, okay?

Let's start with an icebreaker! [ Trucy holds up a deck of redbacked playing cards. She then spreads all 52 out in her hand. ] Pick a card, any card!

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.))

[There's an audible tapping while Alvin configures his netbook, though the video feed doesn't flicker on just yet. He's debating whether to stick to audio and simply jump straight to video. He's been around for ten days, but decided against introducing himself. At least until he's made certain nobody from his home world is present.

After snooping around old network posts however, he's rather certain nobody he knows is here, and that's why the video finally clicks on. There's a man sitting on the other side of the feed, brown hair, a friendly smile. Maybe some of you have spoken to him already.]

Wow, time sure does fly here. Think it's about time I formally introduced myself. I'm Alvin. [He salutes, smile widening.] Worked as a mercenary back where I originally came from. Guess those're skills that'll be put to good use at some point, huh?

I've got a fair enough idea of how things work around here. The last place I was at expected outsiders to fight their war too. Think I kinda like this place better though. I mean, unless the sun and moon have faces on them here, too.

[There's a momentary pause and Alvin goes over what he'd just said, his eyes darting off screen for several moments.] They don't, right?

[Because uhh, yeah, it was creepy.]

[The video shows the interior of a bedroom in one of the housing units, and a conservatively dressed woman in late middle age who is fiddling one-handed with the netbook and muttering to herself as she does so. Her accent is worn-down and of indeterminate European origin, more a matter of cadence and word order than any distinctive pronunciation.]

Ach, there we are. Such a contraption.

[Maria steps back from the netbook a bit, enough to show that she leans heavily on a forearm crutch for support. She props the other hand on her hip in a somewhat belligerent pose as she speaks, addressing the camera directly.]

So. The local fellows here give me to understand that what they want is help with their resistance, and it's for this reason they snatched me and all you other people up to this future of theirs. It's a very nice offer and I'm sure we should all be flattered to be so important to the cause, not to mention to have an unannounced trip to this rainy God-only-knows-where with all the expenses paid.

[Her expression should make it exquisitely clear that she considers this to be an enormous annoyance, to put it politely.]

But in my experience causes usually are a messy business, particularly when they resort to wars to do the sorting-out, and I'm in no shape these days to be running about battlefields.

So. Maria is my name, Maria Gordon, and what I would like to know is, who's in charge of the ones who do the patching-up of the people who do the revolutioning? Because I should like to volunteer for that. God knows I'm more use at doctoring than I am at most things, these days.

[She drums her fingertips against her side, thinking for a moment.]

Secondly, and besides that, who knows directions from the housing to the nearest pub?