W̷̴̨̜̥̗̟͚͇͕̹̗̻̝̯̠̺̰̼̏̽̋̆̃͆ͮͨͪͫ̋̊͋͒͂ͦͯ̓͟͡e͒ͩ̒ͤ̓̽̀ͭ̽̂͌́ͫ̓͋͑͏̸̵̝̹͖͓͈͔̥̬͙͍̟̜͓͎͢͜ ́̐́̐ͯͥ̓̿ͩ̽̏̽̒͏̵̱͚̥͈̱̣̼͇̟͘͜n̸ͣ̓ͨ̐͌̎ͥ̑͆͂ͥͪ̉̊͆̌ͤ͏̖̣̯͖͖͟͞o̸͉̮̲̩̗̺͕͕͓̠͎̤̤͓̭͙͚̺͖̒̇̄ͮ̏̀͠w̧͑͆̓̈́͂ͩ͑̈̂̍̀̎̿̓ͧͯͭ͒͏͇̘̱͇͉̩̘̝̳͔͎̦̠͎̱̫̝͈ ̫͕͚̱̥͕̰̟̏ͬͣ̊͢͡͝͞i̶̿ͫ̌̍̆̊̈́͑̉ͧ̒̑͏҉̩͉̯̣͓͉ͅn̶̴̝̬̩̥͔̹ͯ͊͛̏̂̑̒ͬ͊ͭ̈̊ͧͫͮͣ̊̀́͟͜ţ̷̟̺͔̠̫̭̦͉͈̱͑ͩ͗ͪ̈ͨͨͮ̏͐͗̒͆͌͊͐́̀͠ȩ̵͉̟̖̰͉̲̖̼̝̲̪̩͕̫͎̲͂ͬͪ́͒̽̌̎̿̚͢͢ṟ̭͙͖͍̰̼̻̬̱͍͈͉̞̋͌̈́̑̑̈́̓̈̽̀̀̈́́̿̾ͯ͘̕ͅr̵̨̞̭͔͇̖͖̳͎̝̮̲̎ͬ̃̑ͩ̕͡͡ṳ̴̙͚̯͚̮̉̽̔̅̎̒͡p̴̦̻̤̝̘͉̟͖̈́ͩ̏̆̊̇ͫͮͫͧͧͮͭ̐͒͜͟͢ͅt̉̎̈́ͪͥ̀̆ͪ̅͗͒̇̐͏̸͙̦̻̖̱̺̯̘̦̹̗̦̯̹̗͡͞ ̶͎̹̣̳̦̪͕̬̞̼̣̼̰͍̗͇̋ͤ̔̓̎̀́͡ͅt̸̨̛͈͎̗̙͈̄͒͌͌̄ͮͫ̎̔ͪ͒̎̓̂͒̎͝͞h̨͔̬͇̮̱̰̰̹͖̱̟̻͎̰̯̫̎̑̓ͨͬ̍̈͂͑͝͡ͅi̷ͧ̇̌͒̌͆̈̋̆ͯͬ̓ͮ͆̂͛̓̚͢͝҉̤̩̬̦̙̠̤̼̞̝̟͉̠͕͚̬̜͈s̷̴̶̶͋̍̍͒͏̫̥̤̮̙̺͙̼͖͉̖̱͉̰ͅ ̸̵̜͉̼̫̳̖͍͚̞̜̙̯̘ͨ̅̉̎̔̂̅̀̕b͓͓͖̬͍͈̲̥̒ͫ̍͛̕͜ͅŗ̛̖̼̆ͨ͛̑͌̈͐ͧ̔͌ͨͅo̠̘̦͍͈̩̺̩̞̘̼̩̮͍̰ͬ̓ͬͪ͑̄̆̏̇̓̍̈ͭ̏̔́̀̚a̵̢͙̲̦̤̻͙̠̜͖͎̤̰͓̩͈̹̮̔̽ͭ̃̄ͦ̏ͦ͐̀̒ͬ̂͛́͗ͪ͑̐ͅdͤ̀̓ͭͪ̍̾͂ͩ̃̔̌̄̂̏ͣ̚͏҉̯̩͍̙̠͖̫̟͓̘̬͎̞̣̰̲ç̟̳̳̥̽̓ͧͯͬ̆̈́̏̍̈͜͞a̸̴̢͙̙͖̠̠̯͕̞̭̤̣̳̤͖̪̻̮̋ͬ̾̇̾̏͌ͦ̓̾̐̒̽̍̒̉̀́s̷̵̙̤̫̹͑ͩͧ̓͒ͦ̍ͨ̓̚̚ţ̶̹̱̯̪̜̥̼̽ͭ͐͊ͭͬ͊ͤ̈̃̈ͦͬ͗ͨͣ͜͡ ̷̵̟̜̮̤͓͙̥ͬ̔̍̓ͥ̐̈̇͌̏t̵̷̲̳̜̺̖̲͙̠̙̳̔ͩ̆ͬͯͧ͘͘ǫ̢̗̳̪͕̥̮̣͌͌͒̈̐̅̔͒̅̾ͨ̉͝ ̴̸̺͍̣͔̩͉̗̻̖̭͙̦̟̪̣̂̍͆͋̾̈́̌ͮ͐̎̎̀̌͂ͪ̀ͪ̚b̡̫̠͔͉̝̣͓̞͙̝͍̣̖̜̦̈ͯ̆̂͒̃͗ͧ̉̿̆̚͢ŗ̥̗̥̻̬̝̞͕͖̖̼̬͙̬̼̫͈ͭ̏͌̋ͮ̒̇͋͌̿ͩ͟ͅi̮̰͙̖̰͉̰̠̜̯̖͙̺͙̱͔̦͛̆͊͑̆ͯͦ͢͜ͅn̶̴̶̜̞͔̲̹̣͈̱̬̈ͦ̏ͯ͜ģ̯̣͇͇̳̜̤̘͆̈́̇͂̆͒͗͜͞ ̨̹̲̘̤͙̼̫͚̞̪͎͕͆͛͑̄ͥ͑̐ͮͫ̓̀͢͞yͩͫͥͪͣ͐ͣ͛ͦ҉̵̳̭̯͇͍̻̭͕̭̼̹͇̘͞͝o̴͈͓̠͉ͤ̋̓̉̒̊̍͌̚͜u̸̶̬͕̤̞͚̦̘̞̪̯͕̜͍̝̘͔̱̞̣̾̍̉ͬͨͩ̅͆̿͊̒ͫ̆̋̾͆́̎͘͡ ̷̴̣͚͎̣̰͕̹̳̥̹̯̦̠ͫ̃̓̂̌̿̾͆͆ͣ̍̆ͥͦ͆̃̋͠ͅa̴̵̳̗̞͓̻̰̜͙͛̎̈̂̄ͧ̃͠ ̢̢̰̫̞̱ͫ͊̌͒̽͊̄̌̐̊ͩ̐̚͘͘f̴͇͈̭̥͈̯͓̤͔̯̔̿ͦ́̉ͤ̆ͧͦͧ̎͒ͦ͆͐̾͂͑̀̀͝r̡̭̳̯͈̘̗͖̹͙̺̭̭̗̠͆ͥͭ̓̓͂ͤ̐̒ͭ̎͌͊͐̊̽͒̚͘͞͞ȋ̴͍͇̼͍̖̻͓̺̗̙̯̺̦ͧ͒ͣ͋̈̾ͬ́̓ͪͧ͐̈́̚͞e̸̔̓̈̈̓ͪ̏ͮ̔ͬͬ̏̏͘͜҉̘͕͈͚̤̟̰ṅ̸̨̛̲͉̯̝̪̪̩̫̭̾̏͊̂͑́̍̀̊̐͊̈͌ͤ̂̚͟ͅd̛͑͂ͫ̽ͮ̎͗ͥ͆̃̄̍ͬ͒̋̇̓̉͏̨͓̬̭̣͍͈͟͟ľ̵̡̠̦͉̤̠͚̻̝̞̱͛̆͒̔̌̍̄̐̈́ͧ̾ͬ͂́́͝ͅy͑ͣ̋̍́ͮ̿̅ͭ̓ͭ͋̓͊ͩ̇̈̚҉̵̵̦̳͉͍̠͖̱̙͈̲͙͓̫͍͓̝͟͟ ̸̧̢̞̟͕͔̥͇̺͑̔ͫ̔̍ͦ̋̑͜m̷̉̿̆͛̏̈͆̈ͤ̊ͣ̍ͪ͐̽҉̴̮͔̠̟̥͚͉̥͝è̡͎̪͎̻ͧ͑̍ͧ̃͋ͤ̉̈̉̒̂ͪͤ̿͌̃̀͢͞s̵͎͇͓̼͙͙̰̭̲͖̯̯̳̠̦̮͇̗̐͌̌͂̽͆̃̊̇ͫ̈̓͊̋͘͠͝s̱̣̼̱͓̲̒̔ͪͯ͛̀͢ͅā̡̧͇͚̖̙ͫ̉̚g̛ͤ̊͒͐ͤ̊̈̉͘͏̷̨̟͚̪̖̪͙̲͖̪̜e̽̾̂͛̆̔̋̊ͨͧ̌̈́̈́̚҉҉̞̝̟͉̫̤̜͓̱̦̥̮ͅ ̡̧̖͔͔͙̖͍̪͖̥̣̯͉̖̿ͯ̅͋ͦ̈́ͫ̑̅ͅo̸̷͍͙͔̘̗̬̘̖̥̲̬̫͖͍̱̝̺̓̿́̿ͥͅͅf̞̩̬̙̼̙͔̞̯̭̘͒̿ͪ̋̀͘͢͝ ̶̢̗͕̳̰̬͑̏́̓́̉ͮ͗ͯͬ̑̃ͧ͂̈̊͋̂̚͝͞y̷̬̣̟̤̣̱̞̦̟ͪ͑ͬ̾̆̾́ͫͦͪ͌̽ͪ́͟ͅͅo̵͈̤̘̥̻̝͍̪̰̼ͯ͛̽ͨ̕͟͠ư̶̬̦͈̬̤̻̖̩̮̌͊͐̆ͣ̓̆̉̿ͦ̒̐ͩ͢ͅr͎̗̲͉͔͈͙̫̭͇͙͖̲ͣͦ̉̌̀͟ ͗̈̉ͤͣͬ̃ͪ̉͊̇ͥͩͮ̚͏̴̛̜̘͕̥̩͇͢͡t͌̈̇́ͧ̆ͥ̄̀ͤ̍̌ͬ̀ͬ̏͑ͦ̚͜͏̴͕͎͙̳͙͍͍̮̝͕͓̮ͅî̧̙̪͎͍̠̖̹̳̱͇̪͕̤̳̼͈͚̌̉ͦ̌̏̓͐̽̋̕͞m̶̅̅̊̾̍̊ͥ͗̓̊͏̺͖͎̯̞͠e̛̹̤̜̱̣̖͕̪̳̙̜͑ͧͤ͆͋̔͜͞ĺ̨̞̖͈͉ͦ̉̈̾ͨ͊ͩ̀̚͜y̵̶̻̺̣̟̭͙͉͍̻̱͓̟̾̇ͤ̆̋͌̾͜͠ ̷̡̺͕̙̝̜͉̳͓̃͋̑ͧ͘͘͘d̸̸̢͈͓̲̮̳̦̞̹̼͓͖͙̮͓̫͚ͪ̋͑̉́ͮ͒̒́ͭͭ̾͂̉̀̆̕ǫ̜̟͇̳̦̬͍̺̘̹̎̐͂̿ͧ͒̈́͟͢ͅo̩̠͎͉̙̮͈̫̺̞͖̺̝̦͉ͪͤ̽̅͆́͜͟m̸̴̵͔̦̝̳͉̳̥̪͔̗̖͈̮̤̔͆ͧ̄͛̏̍̍

Warning. Warning. As of 2100 hours, the island of Exsilium has been placed under complete and total quarantine. Any and all individuals caught attempting to leave the quarantine zone will be immediately executed. We repeat, any and all individuals caught attempting to leave the quarantine zone will be immediately executed.

O̵̓ͤ̀̾̌ͭ͒ͭ̔͑̑̔ͮ̈҉̸̙͖̩͚̻̪͔̤̙̙͙̥̻p̷̷̡̗͔̬̠͚͇̼̩̥̘͎̳̟̙͔̥̜̒́̐͛͞ͅȩ̴ͭ̅͑͋́͏̙̜̭͈̦̹͇̠̦̣̤͈̝̲͙͓̲̲ͅṛ̢̛͚̖̖̬̱͍͎̱͓̼̖ͧ̋ͧ̄ͯͣ̈́ͫ̆ͥ̒́̚ã̷̴̡͓̰͓̪̭̩̬̙̜ͧͦ̄̈́̋̚͞tͪ̈́͑ͫͤ̿ͫ͋ͭ͂̍̌̀̈̚͜͠͏͙̭̖̫̬͉͙̼͎̣̱͍̱i̴̝̟͍̣̥͉̙̦̖̩̼̭̞̩̜̥̥̓̒ͭͦ̒́̽̌͐ͨ̌ͨ͞͞͡ǫ̴̡̟͚̩̺̖͇̩̣̞̯͖̪̓̾͑͂ͭͭ̌̕͢n̡̼̟̺̉̌̎̍̊͊ͧ̆̀́ͅ ̷̛̮͉̦̞̜͒̒͑͆͑̑ͯͫ̕R̵̷̥͕̳̹̫̬̟̤͍̱̜͓̹̙̺͍̼͊̔̈ͮ̋ͫ͌̄̑̈́̀͢a̛͈̦̱͎̦̮͈͎̳̪͚̬͖̫͔ͪ̇͂̅ͦ̌ͥ̔ͨ̇͗͂͛̏͟t͑͗͋̓̀͋ͩ̇̒́̀ͩ̔̅̈́͂ͯ̿͌͝͠͏̷͍̣̪͍̩͈̣ͅs̢̛̲͓̣̝͓̱̖̩̖̻͎̠̮ͦ̄͑̔̊ͧ͛ͨ̄͗̎ͨ̚͘͞͠ ̢̞̤̥͓̺͍͔̩̻̦̪̙͔̺͓̦̭͎͈̊͆ͣͫ̓͂́͆̊̈́̇̀͘N̤̙̗̟̺̻̪͖̰̈́͗̏̿͌̾̄̈́̂́̀͘èͧ̉̉ͫ͂͏̴̠̤͈̞̙̪̲͡s̵̵̙͖̹̝̲͔̬̰ͩ̃́͗̊̅͘͢͠t̐̄͗͋͏҉̡̖̘̜͓̤̠̠̟́́ ̱̝͍̤̳͈̪̹̖̞̪̑͂ͤ̈́ͣ͐̏̾̾̋ͤ͛́̕͜į̤̼͓̬̳̗̙͖̻͇̯͍ͫͩ̋͊̈ͫ͑̐̒̐̕͘͞͝ͅn̷͕̘̜̭̙͇̤̤̰̭͓̂̾͆͛̋̽̊ͤ̃͗ͭ͗̚͟͢͞i̴̵̹͕͚̙̹̬͛́ͮ͋ͮ̉̌̍͛͘ṯ̥̦̝̮͉͉̤́͊̔̎̉̕͜i̵̢̯̳̞̮̬̳̍̅ͪ̄̈̃̓̏a̸̡̪̱͉̗̳̖͌̃̉̄̽͛ͦ̔̉̅̽ͣͅtͬ͆̽̑͗ͪͣͩ͊̿̒̋͛ͭ҉̪̻͇͚͕͓͇̮̦͓͓̀̕i̛ͬ́̒̏̈́̅̈͌͗͐ͪ̈ͣ͋̒͏͏͏̵̙̘̝̦͇͔̱̗͉̦̟̻̬n̶͎̝͚͈̝̤̻̺̘͍̫͔̭̋́͛͒̀̊̍̍̿̂ͭ͑ͦ͘g̓̓͊̆̓̽ͨ̒̒ͪͬ̋̚͢҉̷̰͙̞̣̩͖͠ ̶̢͙̥͚̩͊͌̿̋̆̓̑̓́͋͋̄͞i̸̧͋ͯ̂̾̄̎̇͛̋̑͘͟҉̥̤͔̼̖̟̜̼̘̺̟̖̳̠̖͍ṇ̴̶̢̩̩͔̟̝͎̼̜̟͉͙ͪ̆̿ͮ̓̓ͮ͝ ̸̮̺̰̥̣̯͖͍̣̰̰̯̜͙̟ͤͮ̓ͪ̓̈́̀̇́̐ͮ̈́͊ͥͬ̐͆͟7̷̡̡̋̇̆̉̓̌ͯ̒ͤ̈ͨͥͪ̿ͥ̈̌̽͏͍̼̰̩͔̯̝̪ͅ2̢̋̌͌̾ͨ̓̍̈̄ͪ̈ͫ͏̢̬͙̤̣̲̣̼̩̥̘͔̠̩̪̮͟͡ ̃̿̎̔̑̃̐̓ͪ͞͏̗̣̳͙̼̬̤̰̲͚sͮ͌̆̐̉̉͟͏͓̖̟͔̩̘̹̜́͠t̵̢̢͎̟̪̦͎̤͍̱̺̰̪͉̯̞̎ͪ͗ͪ̓͂̈́̓̇̂̈́̐͆̆ͯͭͤͥ͜͡a̵͙̞͇̮͆ͬͦ̎ͪ̅ͧ̊̐̈͝ń̵̢̧̩͖̯͖͙̺̥̱̾́̈ͭͯͭ̀̕ͅd̶̸̛̼̰̜̖̫̜̜͚̊̊̈͊̍̂̑̀ͭ͐͆̋ͩ̇ͫ͢ạ̢̪̩̟̾̊̈́͆͘͞r̴̹̺͙̻͕̙̈̆ͯ͋̅͌̄̃͐͑͗̓̒ͦ͆͊͐̓̚͘͝͞͡d̷̨̦̻̯̜̠̣͋̒̇͐͌̀́ͧ̽̓̓̈͊̔̅̉ͦ̚ ̸̲̤͍̘͎̲̖̝͙̜̦̘̥̟̝ͫ̏̑̿ͥ̐̽ͥ͋͠h͙̥͔̥̤̱̱̭̫̳̮̥͈ͯ͑͌̌̅͊͜͝ͅͅͅo̶̅ͥ̾ͫ͜҉̶̬̣̞̩̭̞̭̙͉͓̻̝͈̹͙̝͝ũ̅̓̋̋̉̉̉͋̐͌҉̵̡̬͔̞̞̯̕ͅr̵̪͔̫̞̱̟̼͐͒̂̽͋ͩͭ̆͒ͣ̾̇ͮ̽ͭ͐̎͐s̷̿̍͋͂̾̆̏͛̒͋̿̏̉̄̊ͩͦͤ̀̚͏̜͚̲̘̘͜
̴̴͈̫̝͈̟̥̜̳͉̖̘̝͕̤̠ͨͧͭͦͥ̐̿̄ͭ̊ͥ̚͡R̷̢̧̺͉̱̰̩̻̫̰̳̫͍͚͉̫̠̤̣͒ͣ̋ͨ́́̚ͅe͉͚̩̯̼̤̺̹̞̦̩͉̪͎̜̠̊͒̃ͥ̔̌ͩ̿̔͂̍̄͆́͢͢͞p̸̵͍̰͓̻̭͇̺̲̖̱̠͓̋̽͆ͩ͆ͦͩ̽ͤ͡eͦ̀̈́͌ͩ̍̒̀͢͝҉̼͈̞̣͙̣̜̟̙̣͕̻̤͔̥̗̺̼͟a̧͈͚̹̼͙̗͔̞͒͋̌͒̅͞ţ̨͑̀͑ͤͩͪͩͨͩͤͫ̑ͯ͌ͮ̎̀͏̗̳̥̲͟ͅ,̴̴̛͎͍̪̫̞̠̤͓͕͓͍̞̦͔̈̀̌͛ͨͮͭ̏̉̅̓̑́ ̢͕̖̼̠̯̠̯̪̖͇̮̠̜͙̣͉͕ͫ̒̇ͧ̔̐̊̐͛͢O̪̖̺͕̫̜̘̱͓͔̫̬̖͚̟̤̩ͨ͌͋͊̀̃̅̒͘͞͞ͅp̸̨͕̝̻̫̯͇͇͇̫̣͚̼̞͒͆͒͑ͣ͑̚͘ė̷͙͕̳̖̜ͫ͋̓ͧ̿̓̓̄̀́̎͐͊̈́͡ŗ̷̴͉̯͓̙̺̰͇͆̒̍̏͂ͪ̅̽̃̀͌̾̾̃ͩ̄ͤͤ́͠ā̶̛̄͋͂͐̃̽̈́͛͒͛ͮ͛̎͜͡͏͎̲̗̭͈͖̥̘̳͕̪͕ͅͅẗ̵̷͉̬̺̥̰̥̬͓̦̟̠̊̏͌̿ͭͬ̀͌̃̄̓ͮ̆̽͊̆͜͜͡ͅi̿̔ͯ̐͛̊ͯ͌ͬ҉̨̲̠͕̦̤̖̱̣̙͈̟̺̭̭̩̖̲̬̱o̙̜͔̣̘̐͛̓ͣ̈́͌͋͂̉͊͛̽͒̽̂ͭ̚͘͢n̠̳̥̘͚͔̥̥͖͈̦̳̺̗̮͓̅̍͌̊̊ͬ́͝ͅͅ ̨͓̺̼̭̱̹͕̟̙̺͐ͩ̿͒ͦ̇͑̉̎̿̉͐ͨ͂ͣ͒̔ͤ̆R̞̣̞̥̬͇̭͇ͥ̋̈̎̊̍̅ͯ̔̍̒͂̿̇́̚̕͡a̽ͬͮ̇ͤ͝͏̱͙̦̺̺̝̟̮͓̦̱̝tͯͫ̑҉͜͏̸͏̮̲̰̘͖̙̞͓̫͍͔̫̼̮s̸̶̄͋ͭ̊̏͏̨̳̩̭̙̥͕̝͝ ̘̩̟̤̙̖͚͇̖͈̯͔̝̯̟̮ͧ͌̈̆͛́̀̃͛ͣ̿̎͠͞N̛͓͚̘̙̭̻̭͊̄ͮ̄̄ͪ̆̓ͬ̽ͅę̵̴̦͖̞͕̬̰̟̳̫͚͓̳̱̩̺͑ͬͬ̓̿̿͊ͧ́̂ͣ͋ͨ͆̍ͣͭ̄ͅͅs̴̶̼͔̥͈̭̭̝̰̻̖͚͈͇ͣ͛̉̅͒͂̿̄̂̔ͨ̍̎̃͝͡ț̶̛͈̯͙͚̠͚̮͋̽ͪ̒͌ͮ̅ͥ͛̇̄ͧͦ͊̅ͩ̓̂̀̕͝ ̶̡̨̣͇̥̠̯̣͖̯̮̍ͬ̇͌ͤ̾̃͢͝į̴̨̥̪͕̥͈̼̙̱̬̪̝̌̾̽̊͋̽̎̀͟ͅn̓̎͗̍̈́̓̅ͪ͐̏̍̏ͧ҉̷̷̬̼͖̬͇̥̣̱͔̥͖̲̝̙̹̙̼̥͝ĩ͙̲̹̜̻ͤ̓ͧ͂ͨ̀̐ͨ̂ͨͦ͋̋͘͟͡͠t̴̴̷̹̳̘̘̥̟̲̮ͧ̇̈́̉̽̏̏̑ͬ́́̕i̶̷̴̺̠̬̳̝̟̪͙͙͚͎̣͙̥̘̫̝͓͍̋̈͒̑̾ͤͤ̿̌ͭ͒̄͛̐́̚a̧̛̺͓̭̥̞̫̩͇͔̟̻̘͓̒̐̅ͭ̽ͯ̄̐̉̆̔̓̅̈̈ͧ̇̾͆t̢̻͎̪͖̳̬̱͔͇̰̗̱ͣ͑̾̃͌͋ͧͫ̔̓̊̓ͫ͋̚͟ͅi̶̛̼̙̖̺̫̹͕̻̗͚̭̺̗̩̖̳̩̗͐̔ͪͬͩ̀̐̈́ͥ̚͠ͅň̴͔̗̭̫̠̗̫̲̤̮̹̺̭͈̬͖̰̠ͮ̎̓ͩg̔̂̍͗̑̿̑͊ͨ͌͒̌́͏̶̛̳͔̘̪͔̳̩͎̯̹̖̗̮ ̴̨̛̦͕̭̗̬̝̺̥̭͇͌̈̈̃ͥ͐̄̈́ͣ͂ͧͣ͟i̷̶̗͈̹̥̣͙͉̤̭͙̟͉̺͍̥͔̹͋̅ͩͫ͂̃ͣͫͬ͂̓ͭ̂̕͞ͅn̽̿ͮ͒̓̉͋͘͝͏̠͈͎͜ ̴̵̸̝͇̱̗͉̪̮͍̦͒̅̏̀͂̅̎̉̂͋̎͞͡ͅ7̶̢̟͇̰̱͎̳̟̋͋̒̆͛͊̔̃͐ͩ̅̄͐ͭ̓͜͜͢2̛̤̗̯̳͙̠͕̈́̊̐ͩ̈ͬ͘͘͞ ̧̨̘͉̰͚̹̣̻ͥ͊̔͆̋̄͂̈́̐͜ͅs̨͂̆ͣ̿ͮ̀͋ͦ̕͠͝҉̖̠̹̩t̡̨ͮ̈̃̐̔͛͆̅̑̏ͤ̓ͮͩ̊̽̀͢͏̧̗̤̹͙̻̖̘̱͔̯a̅̈́ͨ̏ͧͧ̃͒͆͊̽̌̈́̽̾ͥͤ̚̕͞͏̖̰͈̰͉̙̰ň̸̢̧͚̹̻̬͚͇̘̝̻ͣ̽ͪͦ͐̓̅̒̽͗́̅̉ͦͭ̏͌͠d̶̯͔̪͇̼̘̞̬̪̅͊̓̋͛̑̂̆ͨ͐͠a̷̹̤̬̲͖̠̮̹̝̝̘̣̖ͤ̈́͂ͧͮͫ̈͑̄ͦ͌̾̇̌͜͝r͖͈̻̥͙͍͉̗͍̠̖̠͕͔͓̋ͤ̔̆͌̍̇̆͢ͅd̸̷̜̣̝͚̺̤̣͎̱̻͇͉̻̗̦ͧ̾ͯ̀ͤ̓́̈̈́ͣ͑ͤ̀̌̇̾́͘͝ ̶̛̦̝͚̹͓̖̥͇ͭ̏̄̈ͯ͆̉̑ͨ͢͠͞ḧ̴̺̫͓̖̦̣͖̗̪͔͉̝̩̹͍̘̭̤̱́̑̉͛̒͐ͬ̾ͬ̀ͩ̔̍́̋̚̚͜͠ǫ̡̰̬͇͉̘̦͎̍̽̔̐ͪ̋ư̵̡̡͇̰͖̠̳̭̮̈́̓ͪͣ́ͥ̄͑̓̂͡r̵̢͕͚̦̘͙̙̤̟̪̞̤̓̿ͨ͊ͤ͌̐͆̈͂͛͗͋̈͞s̋͊ͫͩͥ̋͛̌͒̊̉̄͛҉̠͔͍̬̲̫͚͔͓̫̤̥̲̟͠ͅ

Stand-by until further notice.
̨̨̛̼̭̪̪̮̥̪̲̜̗̮̐̈̾͛̌͐ͭͤ̄͊ͭͪ̔́͗̆̆̚ͅ
̨̯͍̖̣͚͒ͪͣ̏ͮͣͥ͢͢͠͠Ĉ̶̙̮̬͉̣̰͉̱͚ͥ̄̀̌͒ͫ̓̉ͣ͗ͣ̚͡o̴̢̰̭͕̝͚̥̙̭̫͙̪̮̝̺ͤ̉ͮ̊̇́̔̓͌͒́̌̊͊͌̔͗ͤ̚͢ͅd͇̤̟͕͙̖̲̤̼̜̽ͪ͛ͤͫ̽̍̉́ͦ̾̎͘͢͞ͅę̸̱̙͈̫̰̣̭̬ͪ͒̍̎̉̒̋͋̐ͥͤͥ̒̆ͬ̀̕ ̴̟͉͚͇̠̻͓̲̯̩̆ͧ̓̑̈̈͒̚ͅ4̷̛̦͍̣̼͛͗͌̑ͭͪͫ́̌ͦͧ̔͠1̨̧̤̠͙̩͉̣ͫ̓̓̒ͥ̔̿͐ͦ͋̓ͮ̌̊̐̅6̷̠̰͓̥̟̗̪̼͎͚̪͖̫͖̘̌̄͊̔ͧ͆̊͑̌ͦ̀
̍ͮ̉ͣ̄̐̇̊ͦ͂ͬ̅ͭ͒̇͐́̚͏̴̨̛͉̞̤̥̜̜̠̫̬̣̝͡ͅR̡̛̙͉̗͖̦̳̹̼̗̘̦̺̠̱͈͇͎͔̱͐ͪͭ̍͗̃̄̎ͣ͋͛̑ͬ̒̂ͬ͆́̚ęͦͦ̽̔̏͒͢҉͇͉͍p̷͎̬͚͒͂ͧͣ͂̉̀e̡̲̣̝̩̣̒̓̽̒̕͝ͅa̵ͪͥͨ̎̓̈́̄͆͐ͯ̊̈́̚̚̚͜͠҉̱̤̯͖̬͎͕̯̟̲̙̜̰͚̯͇̳ţ̴̢̙̞̳͇̙̘̼̩̮̭̗̝̩͔͗̈́̊̽̽ͯ͢,̧͆̎ͧ͒҉̞͍͎͍ ̖͎͔̦̩̞̪̼͓ͨ̿̈̍̅͑͒̍̓̓ͤ̈͂̾̂͗͒͆́͢͟͠͞C̶̱͓̣̣̮͈̟͖͈̣͖̥͔͚͍̙͕̈́ͬ͑̅̽ͤ͗̍̓͗͢͢ͅo̷̢̪͕̞̬͈̮̼͈̹̯̟͍̭͇̙̱̦͚ͥ̍ͨ́ͨ̎ͧ̅̑̊ͫ́͘d̸̴̥̬̞̜̪͖̩̟̰̟̬͉̪͖̠̬̏ͦ̉ͥ͐̿ͦ̇ͪ͟ͅͅȩ̸̲͕̭͇̘̫͙̻̳̬̟̜̱̩̦͕͖͛̆̄̎̇ͦ̂͐ͥ̄̆ ̸̸̎̑ͨ̑̈̓ͬ̋͂ͩͬ̂̏̋̑̿҉̶̴̳͍̩͙̮̺̼̣̣̩̬̰̞̠̟͎̭̠4̪̮͓̮̜̙̩͉͖͙̓ͨ͗̓ͣ̈́ͯ̎ͣͭ̅͋̍̎ͨ̈́̏͝1̵̢ͪͯͦ͊͐̓̑͆̋̆̑ͫ͋̔̽ͭͮ͊͢͏̞̝̞̳̥̰̹̜̘͉͈͈6̠̼̬͍̻̤̫̭̩͖͕̮̹̪̟͇͌̆̉͆̽̎́͜͠
̡̛̳̱͇͕͔͖̟͖̭̯͙͑ͫ͐̈́ͪ̅
̥͈̬͈͓̹̰͙͕̤̮͇̳̥̙̇̎ͬ͆̓́̎ͪ͌ͫͫ͞ͅA̎̍͆̓̔̈̔̈́̏͒̐ͯͣ̀͗ͤ͂ͩ̚͝͏̩̤̠̹͓̤̮ļ̸ͨ̄̋̋̔́̓́͝҉̫̳̰͈̜͖̜͕͚͓̯l̛̛̰̼̥̳ͣ̐͛̏͆́̊̓̚ ̷̮̻̹̹͓̙͈̣̹̣͔̖̣̮̺ͯ́̋ͮ͐͘͟à̶̡̢͉͔̭̹̤̬͈̙̖̣̯̗͙̫͈̐̄̅͐͋̍̒̀̄̍̒̓͘t̨̂̈͒̃͘͏̮͔͇̰̟̤̗͖́ţ͒͋̐̒͐ͭ̅͋͗ͩ͏̷͓̖͍̼̝̺͚͝ͅe̸͓͚̝̻̘̞͚̙̼͈͇̰͂̋ͧ͒ͧͮ̋̌̂ͣ̋̉̋̔͛͊̔͂́̚͟͠m̵̶̵̧̳͓̦̲̮̒ͪ̇ͫ͂̍ͫ̄̄͑ͭͨ̓͒͠p̷̢̬̗̭̪̩̠̮̏̈́ͭ͂ͥͣ̔̒̑ͮ̽̂́ͪ͒ͮͯ͜͡͡t̵͇͙͔̥̬͙ͨ́̌͂͑͂͋͗͗ͮ͟s̸̨̠̟͉̹̲̾ͣ̉ͮ̉͒͑̍̌̍͗̿̀̚͝ ͣͦ̎́ͥ̏ͥ͑̎̾̇ͤ̃͂͌҉̣̣̝̗͍͈̙͈̩̩͍̙͔̕ͅţ̛̺̤̱̬̣̬͙̝̜͔̘̠̖̙͉̒͋̔̎̽̒̕͢͜o͐ͣ͊͋̊ͫ̉͜҉̸̵̬̟̖̟͓̥͇̫̻͚͞ͅ ̴̨̼̭̭̙͍͙̹̘̣̟͕̺̏̓̽͒ͮ̃͐͌ͧ̓ͣͩ̈́͒ͥ̇̀̀͟ĺ̶̙̟̥̱̣̞͚ͦ́ͬ̔̿̔̚̕͟e̷̶͙̯̜̣̩̭̦̯̭̱͓̖̝̣̪̗͍̙͚ͧ̈̿ͣͯͧͮ͂ͦͯͯͮͮ̐̾́̚͜a̸̵̧ͯ͐ͯͬ͐̿̽̉ͩ̔̀ͫͯ͏͙̜̘̺͖̯̗͉͈v̸̛̬̙͙͎̰ͤ̆̋̚͞e̴͖̹̝̤̬̲̔̎̐ͮͪ̀̕͝ͅͅ ̸̧̡̠͇̲͎̪̜̙̙̦͚̝͚̰͈̺̊̒͛̑͂̇E̛ͮ͐̍̇ͫͩͧ̌͆ͤ̚͟҉̸͕͔͖̘̰͟x̢̛̳̤̘̙̿ͯ͌ͩ̆̈̀̕͢ş͉̫̙̜̱̟̼̪͖̹̝̪̯̠̟ͨͧ̏ͧͣ͂̒͌͘i̡̛̜̲͉̠̥̣͚̰͔̖̩̘͕͖̰͗ͤͣ̃̎͒̐ͤͦ̍ͦ͆͆̒̂͌̒̔̀͠͝l̡̛̲͇̻̪̝͍̳͈͍̣̯̮̝̙̰̅̍̈̉͛ͭͤ̓̆́͐ͦ̿̄ͬ͊ͭͬ̇i̢̭͈̱͖͔͍͓̗̊ͬ̓ͦͧ̂ͥ͂ͮ͒̅ͨ͆̄̚̚̕͟ů̴̢̠̝̙͙̗̖̳̭̼̠̣̾̏͆͆̕͝͝m̧͉̟͎͓͖͔̤̮͇͈̦͈̭̻̟͈͉̻̑ͦ͆̐ͯ͌͛͆̋ͯ͌̒̄ͩ̒̉ͧ̌͝ ̶̨̦̦̬̼̠̮͔̥͚͚̩̳̖̩̯̭̩̒̔̓͒͒͒͌͝w̷̨̩̜̤̹̹̞̘̟̺̎͐́̒͑ỉ̵̸̷̢͙̱͈̰̫̯̫̪̮̼̇̎͆̎̒̐͐͠l̷̨̢͍͙̱̘̣̫͇̲̥̯̱̟̣̩̺͙̂͒̔ͥͮ́͗̔̓͑̊́͢l̴̶̛̻̼̻̮͕̟̻̠̬͉̞̤̹̻͚̞̘̣̝͗ͨͧ͒͑̄̚̕ ̡͙̥̖̩̘͓̻͓̜̠͍͕ͨ̈̅̑̎ͤ͒ͣͤ̓ͧͤ̍́b̸ͦͫ̈́ͫ̒ͪͩ̔͋͂̑̅̒ͨ̃͝҉̱̜͎̩̺̜͔͎̯̰̳̭́e̸̟̻̤̬̩̘̘̙̲͉͕ͩ͌ͬͬͬ̓ͧͫ͌ͬͮͪ̓͟͝͞ͅ ̸̶̹̭̜̙̤̲̳̹̝̹͕͒̓̎ͧ̏͗͗̇͂ͧ̑̐ͤ͂͒ͧ͘m̧̡̭͔̜̘̱̹̼̬ͨ̍͗ͩ̏̊̐́̈́͛̓ͥ͠ͅe̸̝̟͕̜̫̱͙͇̮̦͙͓̤̻͍̟̩̔͛̔ͦ̂̎̃̃t̸͑̊ͥͬ́҉̩͈͕͙̳̝̞̘̝͎̜̬̮̘͉̯̩̲ͅ ̷̢̝̲̰͇͇͓̙̹̖̻͍̥̜̭̹̗̯̜̀̉́̽͂͗͗̇͜w̵͇̠͓̗̻͎̟̬̺̠̻̲̿͆͋ͦ͗̓̈͢͝i̵̛͈̱̝̥͙̯̭̤̘̹̩͖͂̈̐͌̌ͬ͆ͤ̐̿͑͘ţ̒̌ͧ̾̊̐͏̣̤̝̭̞̣͕̮̫̠͇ḩ̵̢̤̙͖̭̩̺̰͈̫̺͍̼̬̯ͣͭ̾ͯͯ̌͂̈́ͦͮ̚͜ ͧ̎͐̊̊̊̓̉͒́ͯ҉̧͍̮͙̹̩̜͇̮̠̳̙̯̱͔͟͞͠ṣ̶̨̳͖̗̙͕͔͕͎̳͓̣̞̮̪̫͉̎ͯͬͦͭ̍̉ͤ̊̄̎̈́̅ͯͯ̓̑̂́ȅ̸̶̡̞̲̞̳͉̼͍͖̬̰̌ͮ̆ͥ̂͋͆ͮ̑̇̿̚̕͜v̡̛̤͙̪̙̫͙ͤͥ͒ͮ̃̔ͬ̇̕̕è̡̝͙̯͍̦͕̆͗͊̀ͤ̄̓ͩ̉̽̏͌̐ͩ̃̓͠ř̸̛̯̙̹͕̠̟̣̼̂̄͐͆̇̄ͅe̷̻̘͚̜͖̹̦͑ͬ̏ͮ̀ͨ͌̿̋̿ͬ͒ͭ̇̓̕ ̶̡̩̦͔̩͚͖͕̣̭̦̦ͯͥͧ͆͒̽͂͂̉̓̏ͧͭ͑̍̓̚͠p̵̞̙̜͕͉̫̤̻͖̜͈̹̜͖͔̗̥͛͌̑̓͑̈́̀́͢rͧ͗̈́͊̾̿ͦͧ̔ͧͯ̏̈́̌͐͞҉̷̴̸̘̼̝̳̲͉͖̜̼̮̯ḛ̢̥̲͔̩̤̮̱̪̻̪̟̤̌̏ͮ̑ͧ͛ͬͥ̌̆ͦ̓ͯͫ̏͢j̸̛͉͇̖͓͓̙̼̼̹̞̙̯̫͍̓̑ͭ̊͂ͬ̃ͬ̽ͣ͆̈̾̚ụ̡̰̖̻̣̰̤͉̞̩͊͌̏ͦ̇̎̍͘͟ͅd̍̈̄͗̇͢͜͏҉̤͖̘͈̦̩̭̯̤͔͎͈̳iͨ͋͌̐͊̓̒ͨ̎͗̉̏̆͑̈̚͝͏̴̛̳͇̳̟͚̻̣̫̀ć̟̠̭̲͚͍͈̹̳̜͈̝͊̐ͤ̏͆ͨ̃̉ͦ͒̓ͣ͒̂ͤ͘͜͟͟ẹ̡̛̻̖̟̲̝̼̻̄ͩͯ́̽̎͑̒̕͟

Unidentified contagions must not be allowed to spread beyond the borders of the island. Humbly submit to the greater good.

     - THE UNITED EARTH

[ Here is a video, showing Aurican his usual self. However, his usually bright gold scales have dimmed considerably and more importantly, he's panting. His tongue is not sliding out of his mouth like a dog's would, but he does show that even the largest of wolves and lions cannot best him in the amount of large canines.

He takes several deep breathes before speaking. ]

I thought the plague only affects humans.

I do not understand diseases. Can someone explain them to me?

The Initiative picked an interesting time to bring me back. [The fully armored man on screen sighed, flopping back against the wall from where he was sitting and eying the tablet in his lap. He might even be looking a little exasperated, if one were capable of noticing that through his body language and tone. When considering that most of his facial expressions were hidden beneath that visor well enough.] Especially when it looks like a lot of people are getting sick, thanks to our friends beyond the wall.

So it'd probably be a good idea to stay away from crowds if you'd prefer not to join them.

[A quick second pause, tapping his finger on his leg a few times, before finally shrugging.]

Looks like I'll have to figure out what's changed about this place later, once things calm down.

[Text - Filtered FROM Rookie]

I was wondering if anyone knew where I could find colored strings of lights. If those aren't available, what are some materials I could use to fashion something similar?

[Video - Public]

[A bit after the text message appears, Kallen shows up on the network, grinning, probably a bit wider than necessary. Her tone's relaxed and friendly, her wave at the camera suggesting nothing of ill will at all. In fact, the pilot's in a generous mood! Why not offer some help to those who might be looking for it?]

Looks like the masquerade's a little over a week away now, huh? I know it's short notice, but I have a friend who's simply excellent when it comes to sewing and designing clothes. He's very thorough and timely, too. I have a feeling if anyone asked nicely, he'd be willing to lend a hand in preparation.

[She can't help but chuckle before continuing.]

Speaking of preparation, is there anything else that needs done? I've got time to kill, so putting it to good use sounds like a plan.

[Honestly, this was probably one of the dumbest things Rookie's done in awhile, and that was saying something.

But if anyone was to pop onto the 'net around this time, one might find a very lovely, albeit shaky and somewhat unsteady view of Exsilium - from above, oddly enough. If the sounds of the wind whistling by and the creaking of what was likely to be a very tall, old building wasn't evidence enough that whoever this was, was up pretty goddamn high.

There's a sudden shift of the camera, before a particular helmet comes into view just on the lower half of the screen. He only spares the piece of technology a quick, passing glance from the corner of his eye - well, visor - before nodding out towards the rest of the city with what might have been a chuckle.]

Am I the only one who thinks this city could do with some Christmas lights?

(ooc: Action to whoever can reach his spot. Otherwise, enjoy the video Exsilium. Oh and it's probably early morning, as the sun's coming up, since yes he likely spent the whole night up there.)

[ 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?

[Hello, Exsilium, have a sudden video of a slightly damp young woman fiddling with the netbook before she's able to get a good grip on it. If anyone was paying attention, they might have noticed her other hand holding the handles of some shopping bags. Judging by the background, it appears she's out and about in the city in, of course, the usual rain, though today's seems to be rather light in comparison.]

Okay, I'll say right off the bat that I know this sounds pretty lame or whatever, but I need to ask where I can find some stuff to decorate the apartments. Interior stuff like... I don't know a plant? Something to make it less boring.

[She sighs, adjusting the netbook as she walks and ducks under an awning.]

If I'm going to be stuck here, then I at least want to make things more livable. Hell, I'll settle for inhabited. Those places are so sleek and white, it's almost creepy, even with repairs going on.

[Kallen leans against the wall and sets her bags down.]

On a less domestic note, would anyone be up for some training later? It definitely goes better with company.

[Video]

It seems we've got quite a few people who are getting bored around here. Well, the lower parts of the Labs crumbled and fell into the catacombs thanks to the shaking from the bombs, which means two things.

One, that we can easily get back into the Hold itself without being seen, though I'd still stay away from windows and doors and by no means go outside.

And two... that there's now a giant freakin' hole in the ground that's going to have to be fixed eventually. I'm looking for volunteers to help in bracing and stonefoam work, as most of my, ah... colleagues are content in their role as supervisors. [Read: THEY DON'T WANT TO DO THE WORK.] Experience isn't necessary, they just need some people willing to put in little work.

[EDIT: Log is up here if anyone wants to run with this. Feel free to tag around!]

[Private, to Tony]

Hey, Stark. Now that we're on an impromptu spelunking expedition with no where to go, maybe I can get a better look at that suit of yours. Can't promise cookies, but I'll buy you a beer after we get out of here.

[Huh. If this didn't feel like home, he didn't know what would.

Off to the side of everyone else, and for the most part minding his own business, would be a particular armored soldier lounging with his feet propped up on a piece of rubble. A position that likely wouldn't be very comfortable to those who weren't wearing armor, considering he was sitting on a very debris-ridden spot and leaning back against some of the rocks like it was some sort of make-shift chair.

And though he appeared physically exhausted, the rush of data flying across both his netbook - and most likely his visor's - screen showed that the Rookie wasn't taking the time to relax completely just yet.]

Well, the people here wanted a war, so I guess we've got one. [For those listening over the netbook, there's a large amount of static, and the video makes a point to flicker and pixelate before the Rookie casually raps the screen with his knuckle. Mostly out of the whole 'if technology doesn't work, hit it' habit. Not that it did much to solve it.] But at least we didn't come out of this completely empty handed, if those videos involving the Masked soldiers are of any use to us.

[There's a slight pause then, before he's propping his arms up behind his head and adding in a little more quieter. Though his next couple of words might be a little hard to make out over the network, with the occasional pops of static appearing over the feed.]

Suppose the real question now is, how ready are we?

[The feed shows a bench and the walls of the training facility. It's simply that for a few moments until a young woman in workout shorts and a sports bra falls on to the bench and exhales heavily. Judging by her state, she's been training in some form for quite some time now. She remains there for a minute just relaxing. Soon enough, though, she turns to face the camera.]

I've been meaning to ask some things for a few days now. If we're expected to fight back, go on missions, rebel or something, is there any organization in this place? Teams, classes, trainers?

There's no common denominator anyone's found, right? We were randomly picked from millions of others and dropped here. It makes no sense.

[The redhead sighs and rolls her shoulders before continuing.] How many of us even have experience with resistance fighting like this? Military training? Hell, even basic self defense. For those that have none of that, are you learning?

I just want to know if anything's being done.

[Kallen looks like she wants to say something else, but refrains. Instead, she lets the feed run despite leaving the video to go train some more.]

[Snow is sitting on what looks to be a fridge somewhere, idly kicking her feet back and forth. One hand is toying with her mirrored necklace - observant people might notice the similarities with the mirror present in Prince Arthur's latest post]

Just to make things simpler here, how many people in this place are going to have some sort of issue with magic? If you could all give me your name and some sort of idea of how far you're willing to go in order to stamp out this fiendish menace, that would be extraordinarily helpful. Save time on everyone's part, really.

[The mirror she's toying with flashes, before she drops her hand and straightens. A bright smile crosses her lips, and her tone changes slightly, teasing] More importantly, though, it seems that I've acquired a number of heavy objects here that I simply can't move on my own. [She taps a hand on her fridge-chair] I don't suppose there are any strapping young men who would be willing to come and help me move them? [She's totally just helping some old lady NPC move house but no one needs to know that right now]

[Action]

[Being as it is a permanent fixture of the Hold, the mareketplace has manifested several trappings of a mall-like nature. Like, say, an arcade. Well, actually it's just a few "antiquated" game machines stuffed into a corner, but with the training routines disturbed by the VR shenanigans they'd reached a level in popularity again.]

[One in particular, "Superah-RealCombato Sim 3000" has a ring of holographic projectors no more than six feet across, that cast flickering red shapes in parallax for characters standing in the middle to aim a virtual weapon at and shoot. The resulting sea of red gradient that they loosely call a "firefight sim" is hardly realistic, somewhat headache-inducing, and kind of flickery thanks to the wear of years.]

"HEADSHOT. DOUBLE-KILL. MULTIKILL. SURVIVALIST. NEW HIGH SCORE..."

[Wait, is that Gordon in there? Where did he learn to shoot like that?!]

[Watch? Comment? ...Try to beat his score?]

[The video flicks on, revealing a light blue visor that was currently taking up most of the screen's display. Something that lasted for about, oh, two seconds before the feed was flicking on and off a couple of times. Almost like the user was making sure he had the right button and was, in fact, broadcasting to... whomever else was able to receive this.]

... [Tap, tap of his finger directly on the screen, before the stranger would finally pull away to a reasonable distance. Revealing both the upper part of his armor, and the city around him.] This working?

Good. [An inhale, bracing himself.] I need information.

Has there been any other soldiers here with armor like mine? Tend to call themselves Helljumpers, Freelancer or Spartans. Last ones are usually big. [Lifting his hand way above his head to emphasis this, before casually letting it fall back down.] Also would appreciate any further advice or information about this place.

Thank you. [And with that, the transmission cuts off.]

[The feed clicks on, and the video shows a rather vexed young woman walking along the sidewalk or what there is of one. Her brows are drawn together, and her blue eyes are narrowed, displaying both suspicion and frustration at her surroundings. Finally, she grumbles and stops walking, looking directly at the screen.]

I don't know what sort of sick change this is, but I'm not laughing. What the hell is the Initiative, and why do I need a weapon now? There damn well better be some decent answers. No one's been very eager to explain much.

[She scowls up at the building behind her.]

New home, huh? We'll see. [Kallen sighs and directs her attention to the feed once more.]

It's doubtful anyone's been happy about arriving here, so it's a pretty safe bet there's no known way back yet, huh? That figures.

[Instead of going straight inside, the redhead simply sits against the wall of the building, still glaring at anything that meets her gaze.]

Just perfect.

((ooc: open to action right outside the apartment buildings 8D;))