[The video feed turns on and shows Meg, but she's not anywhere in the city boundaries. It looks like she's out adventuring.

She is indoors, but the house is obviously in ruins. She must be miles outside the city in one of the uninhabited areas.

Meg crouches down and picks up the remains of a doll. It's tattered and covered in dust.]

Has anyone ever looked around out here?

[She blows the dust off the doll and tidies up her dress.]

Wonderin' if anything interesting has ever been found. Hm, guess we'd be pretty bored to kick up other peoples garbage.

[There's a fellow in a suit that's just a bit too tight for him sitting before you. Yes, all of you. Anyone not on a call or otherwise preoccupied with the audio-visual portion of their tablet gets to say hello to a peculiar-looking individual dressed in an aubergine collared shirt and bearing an intensely grey-blue stare. Sherlock lifts a pale hand in greeting, waggling his fingers awkwardly (that's what people do to say hello, right?) He gazes down at the camera. By the background behind him, the man's sitting somewhere up on one of the tallest buildings in the city.]

My name is Sherlock Holmes. I've been listening to your chatter. 

It seems the general consensus is that the war we have all had foisted upon us is a losing battle. 

[His soft baritone carries a received pronunciation accent to anyone who's English and listening, or otherwise observant. By his state of dress and the other phone he's playing with, he's from around 2010 or so give or take a few years. He folds his hands in his lap and leans forward.]

I say, no, but if you continue on in the manner you have been, you are very likely destined for failure. I've done the math, but I'm told it bores people. 

[A file is pushed forward to all of the tablets in Exsilium in message form.]

Get back to me if you're interested in going home instead of wallowing about feeling sorry for yourselves, attending masquerades and sitting in awkward sympathy banquets. 
( An innocuous text file. )

[This gentleman has already wandered out past the city's walls - he's sitting in some ruins, only marginally protected from the raindrops that drop between the camera on his face. He's a mid-30's average-looking guy - blonde, a little skinny, a day's stubble - but there's a tiny smirk on his lips and obvious amusement in his eyes. He doesn't seem to be bothered by the cold or the rain or the fact that he's in a monument to human destruction. A bastard sword with a white, ornate hilt and set with a diamond is sheathed at his waist.

He looks past the camera, considering his environment, before actually looking into it. Any one who can sense mojo through a camera will realize immediately that this guy is not to be messed with.]

So, they actually ran out of people to fight their war that they had to enlist us. Our varied, ragtag group of folks, newcomers. Feed us with food and arm us. I can't imagine they actually thought this all the way through, did they? I mean, they wouldn't really be capable of stopping an insurrection if we really wanted.

Well, no plans for that. Not yet, at least. For now, I'm ready to just enjoy the weather. Nice day out here. Nice place they got, too.

What a very unfortunate turn of events.

[ Whatever room Wesker is in, it's very dark, and hard to tell where in the underground compound he's hiding out in. It's almost impossible to see him, except for a vague outline. Wesker moves a bit, and soon, the lights turn on, his back facing the camera.

It's obvious where he is, now. The infirmary. He's pulling a syringe out of his arm, but it's not his medication; it appears to be full of his own blood. Capping the needle and swabbing his arm with an alcohol swab real quick, he lowers his own sleeve, not even bothering to put a bandage on it; it's just going to heal on its own, after all. ]

I'm rather interested in these 'Masked' I've read about. Their recent attack was very bold. I believe it is time to retaliate... don't you?

[ Wesker places the vial of his blood into a specialized container marked with a biohazard symbol, and faces the screen. ]

Where might I find a science laboratory? If they wish to fight on such a scale, I will be more than happy to oblige them.

[Meg is somewhere in the underground. Hard to tell since it all pretty much looks the same. She's sitting against a wall and looks bored. A knife is held and she's using the point to very carefully scrape some grit from underneath her fingernails.

Well, this is tons of fun. I can't even tell you how much fun I'm having.

[Nothing but sarcasm, as usual.]

Least the ground stopped shaking, but how long do we have to sit around down here?

I don't suppose anyone brought some boardgames with them? Candyland? Chutes and Ladders? Monopoly? Twister, anyone?

( ooc: dated to a bit earlier in the evening. )

[ Edgeworth is sitting his room tonight as he address the network; someone who knew him well might suggest that he looks tired - exhausted, even - but if questioned about it, he'll just deny it. ]

Good evening, fellow transports. For those of you I've yet to meet, my name is Miles Edgeworth and I am a prosecuting attorney.

Tonight, I bring forward to you all an idea that I have been considering since my arrival here last month. As some of you may know, Exsilium currently has no internal judicial system. That is, no police, no courts, no prisons... and even worse, no laws. Both in light of recent events and out of concern for possible future occurrences, it would be my preference to implement some sort of system to deal with inter-transport conflicts.

I am willing to work to my full capacity to ensure the functionality of such a system and all that it entails, but I do acknowledge that I am only one person, and I cannot achieve my goals alone. So, I ask: who amongst us would be willing to assist me in this matter, so that we can ensure a safe and just society for all of us who have been brought here?

And a second question, if you don't mind: I am aware that there are many individuals from a wide array of disparate alternate realities, and that the judicial system as I know it might not exist where you are from. If this applies to you, I would welcome any information about how crime was handled in your reality.

Thank you for your time.

[ At the end, he submits a text version of his main points for reference: ]

1. Would you be willing to assist with the creation of a transport-run judicial system and an accompanying set of laws?
2. If your judicial system differs from the one I have briefly described, how does it differ, and what aspects did you like/dislike about this system?

I will answer any further questions or discourse on this topic, and you are of course free to discuss it amongst yourselves.

- Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth

( 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.

Oh, I do have rather a lot of you here to meet, don't I? It's very nearly overwhelming! Ah, but lucky for me, I'm very good at meeting a lot of new people. Many don't realize it's a skill, but it most certainly is!

Why, if each of you told me your name, I promise you I would still remember each one in a month's time. Try me, if you like!

And while you're telling me your name, perhaps you might tell me your favorite bar, as well. And preferred drink! Mm, and possibly your favorite way to pass an evening? None of it will be forgotten, I promise!

[ PRIVATE to Collette ] And don't think I haven't seen you flitting about this network! Gods, but it's a relief to see a familiar face. Where are you hiding, my dear? I've already found a quaint little restaurant I think you might enjoy.

[It isn't his laptop, but he manages to figure out the basics in short order. So have a patented pair of Sam Winchester's puppy dog eyes staring at the screen.]

Uh - hey. I'm not sure if anyone else out there can really hear me. To tell you the truth, I'm still not convinced that any of this is real.

[Sure, he's seen more than his share of strange things. But his dreams have been equally bizarre. He's sort of hoping for the latter.]

I'm looking for someone. His name is Dean.

[Or maybe he's under an alias. But he really doesn't feel like covering the list that ranges from "Dr. James Hetfield" to "Sigfried Houdini"]

He's got brown hair, brown leather jacket, hazel eyes - I think. Anyway, if anyone can hear me, and they see him, tell him...tell him that his brother is looking for him.

And that I'm sorry.

[The video feed turns on and the picture if filled with the face of a woman with alabaster white skin and dark brows and eyes. One eye quirks upward and her lips tug into an annoyed frown.]

Crowley, what is this, some kind of joke? Threaten me, capture me, and then throw me in the middle of some futuristic looking game with a netbook and a weapon? If Schwarzenegger shows up, I swear I'm going to take this knife and gut him.

And this little home make-over you did of hell while I was gone is not at all what I expected. I thought you had class.

[Meg waits for that smarmy demon’s response but hears none, which just puzzles her more. Now she’s getting a bit nervous. Was this his intention? Throw her off her game?]

Fine. You know what? Screw you. I know you won't be able to resist showing your face sooner or later. You're too much of an egotistical bastard not to.