[Private to Emma Frost:]

[Wow, she is just the most unsure about this...]

I -- have to ask you something. It probably sounds stupid, I'm pretty sure it doesn't even work this way, but -- do you sense other telepaths? It's just that I don't think -- I -- Charles isn't here any more, is he?

[ End Private to Emma Frost]

[Some time later, the following voice post goes up. Mystique is -- very pointedly not showing her face right now, and she sounds a little shaky.]

For anyone who knew Charles -- my brother, Charles Xavier -- he isn't here any more.

Just -- so everyone knows.

[And she clicks off the feed, because she's going to go have her own private pity party. She knew that the little bit of peace she got here, pretending that things were okay with her brother, wouldn't last ... but she hadn't wanted to think about how exactly it would come to an end. The selfish part of her had always hoped she'd be the one to go home first. It had happened once before, after all.]

First things first - Initiative? Really? Come on, couldn'tcha be at least a little original? I mean I'm having a serious case of been there, done that. And for the record? Not really looking forward to doing it again. I've had the tour, I've seen the shinies - and I'll say again. Not interested. Opposite of interested. Me and freaky government strongholds go way back. We had a very hot and heavy relationship, but we're seeing other people now, and both of us are better for it. So, second thing? If you could just, you know - help a girl out and point me toward the nearest exit? That'd be real peachy. Failing that? I'm not your strong-arm. You can't control me. Don't even try.

[ the image appears shaky at first - a sure result of complete ignorance on how to actually handle the blighted device - before it is moving to show an elf eying it with suspicious distaste. ]

I've questions. For those who've been here longer than I. [ he shifts, a subtle frown over his otherwise unreadably solemn expression; his tone is level and steeled, albeit sharp. ] What does this - Initiative expect us to do?

Fight their battles? I do not know what manner of magic - [ there's a twist to his lip that can only mark disgust. ] - they posses that was used to trap us here but -

They cannot win this war of their on their own without forcefully involving others. Yet some of you are quick enough to trust them, to think they will send us all back. Why? [ He sighs, bright olive eyes narrow, harden. ] They seek nothing but power to further their own gains. A situation I have seen far too often where I am from.

What have they made all of you do in your time here, I wonder?

[ There is a pause, then. A break. If he knew how to make a filter - if he knew what that was- he'd be making it right now.

A new expression passes his brows now - reminiscent of pain, though it appears as a flinch. his hand curls into a fist on the table he is sitting at. ] Hawke. I need to speak with you.

[ because pride stops him from openly asking for help he secretly may need. ]

[Despite recent events Eiki seems perfectly at home, she's not stressed, or particularly worried. It was almost as if everything going on simply did not affect her.]

In light of recent tragedy, I became curious about some things. There is a lot of diversity here, with people from all over, from worlds so different it would be hard to imagine, and I assume rules and universal laws that are also different. So considering this, I would like to know about the afterlife of other worlds. I understand it is rare for those living to know the system for the dead, but even if all you know is mythology and legend I would still like to hear it. In exchange I will share everything I can of my world.

[ charles is visibly distressed when he appears on the screen, this time. he's in what seems to be some underground facility, and there are other faces behind him—notably collette, emma, galadriel, raven, and others. his eyes remain closed for a second and you can hear him take a deep breath. then: ]

We have... borrowed a gentleman by the name of Richard Lawson...—from the United Earth. He is a cabinet member of the President's. Yes, the President of the United Earth. [ charles clears his throat, steels himself. ]

We've learnt a great many things about the United Earth from his head, and we feel it best to share that information with all of you, here on the Network.

[ charles states the next words with a heavy voice. ]

The President of the United Earth is not human. "He" is—artificial. Artificial Intelligence, or what you would call an A.I.. The United Earth... has never seen his face, as far as we have deduced.

We will try to answer questions about what we have learnt to the very best of our ability, but do be patient. Ah—[ he closes his eyes again, considering. then he nods as though he's made the right decision and he knows it. ]

That is all.

( note: wow i knew i forgot something like a winner. THIS TAKES PLACE DURING/AFTER these linked shenanigans: [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] )

[the feed turns on, a girl in her late teens coming into view. she looks stressed, but she's trying to shove her fear down so it can't be seen. her eyes say different, though. she's scared. bombs. bombs were being dropped and she didn't know if she was going to survive. she didn't know if the tunnels would hold or if they would collapse and kill her or kill anyone around her. it was terrifying. she had come from a relatively 'normal' life to this fucked up mess. 

but she still, somehow, remains calm. her voice is steady, her expression practically neutral. she does seem somewhat reluctant, though.] 

I have a gun, and I donno how to use it. I'd like some help. 

[she knew there was always training, but even then, she felt uncomfortable using it. she's never asked for help before, never. she didn't need it. she could always help herself, help those around her, but never ask for it. and asking for help in handling a weapon? she didn't want anything to do with it let alone learn how to use it. but she didn't want to die. she would do anything to survive, to protect herself, even if it meant using something she hated.]

I'm Effy, by the way. 

[she gives a partial smile, but it's a weak excuse for one, before leaning forward to turn off the netbook.]

[a soft crackle as the tablet is set down, then--]

Welcome to the Initiative. Enjoy this bomb.

Really, what kind of greeting is this?

[--a pause --]

Anyone know if these tunnels will really hold up or are we going to get buried alive?

You know what honestly blows the most in this place?

[ Jack's slumped down into the cushions of her unit's living room couch, an empty bag of chips resting against her stomach as she rambles. ]

The fucking cable. Has anyone else been watching Days of Our Dumbass Totalitarian Future? I don't know how many more fucking times I can watch the big reveal that Sally McBigtits is pregnant and the great betrayal of Fabio von Whatshisass fucking around behind her back before I shove my foot through the TV. I miss the extranet. I miss the bispecies porn. At least it was laugh worthy to see a Hanar and an Elcor trying to get it on.

You know what they say about idle hands... Well, I'm not really sure, but in this context it probably means arson is on the horizon, so let's work on the entertainment sector some time before I decide it's a better plan to just go around torching shit for the funsies.

[ There's a long pause in which she just stares with the most bored of eyes at the screen, face intensely unimpressed with life as a whole. ]


Shepard, I'm hungry.

( 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.

[ Magneto is sitting in front of the communicator in all his purple-caped glory, though the helmet is off at the moment, tucked under his arm. To those who met the other version of him, he will look quite familiar, if perhaps difficult to place due to appearing perhaps thirty years older. ]

I wish that I could say that I was surprised by any of this.

[ He raises an eyebrow. ]

Well. Besides perhaps the fact that they are insisting that I have been here before.

[ Click. ]

[There is the tell-tale sound of heaving in the background. The communicator is on its side, camera facing a cup of some clear alcohol on ice that's swirling in a tumbler. Where did this mysterious alcohol come from when Haymitch appears to be newly-arrived, you ask? We may never know.

His cheek is still stinging from where Katniss had gouged him, but it was a dull thrum that didn't seem so bad when he couldn't see straight. Eventually, he manages to get the camera upright and gives it a winning grin – or it would be winning, if there wasn't the telltale glisten of vomit on his lower lip. Some might not notice that.]

So, we're in for another Game. Different rules, sure, and a real 'battle', but – [and he waves his hand toward the camera,] – still. I should introduce myself, if that's the case.

[He makes a mostly-unsuccessful attempt to straighten himself up a little, leaning heavily on the outside wall of the nearest building before forcing himself to his feet and dipping himself in a sloppy bow.]

Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the second Quarter Quell. I come from District 12, home of coal and very little else.. This place is at least less of a violent assault on the senses than the Capitol – nobody's hair has made me shield my eyes yet. That's something.

[He produces a flask from his jacket pocket and places it to his lips, tipping it completely upside-down to suck the last few drops from it.]

Tell me, fellow captives -- how do you feel about the likelihood we'll be forced to kill people we know nearly nothing about in the name of this place's 'freedom'?

 So, who wants to get together and kick him.

Hard?

[ Jo's on her way to the bank with the ticket the creepy woman gave her when she turns on the feed, so it bounces a little as she walks. ] Okay, other "transports", quick question: who all here thinks the woman that greeted us is completely insane, and who all bought her load of crap? [ Jo's not going to reveal, in so many words, how she feels but it's probably pretty obvious by the tone of her voice and the look on her face. ]

[ The image is shaky and unfocused, at first, until the ruffling sounds cease and the picture stills after picking up on a blur of red, white and blue. A blond man, bruised and battered, and appearing a little worse for wear comes into view.

He's still fairly new to technology, and this seems to be that much more advanced than even some of the gadgets he came across in the future - he pauses to think that Stark - Tony - would love to get his hands on something like this. But he manages to figure it out pretty quickly, albeit awkwardly, and he audibly takes in a deep breath. ]

Guess I gotta introduce myself on this thing, don't I? Manners cost nothing, after all. [ He winces, whether at his own weariness or an actual injury is difficult to tell, and he rubs at the back of his neck, a somewhat nervous habit from years long since gone, smearing the dirt there further. ] M'Steve Rogers, and, uh, it's kinda been a long day.

[ But not long enough for him to have missed the details. This place is clean, organised, but there doesn't appear to be any immediate threat. He's already ruled out HYDRA, but he's pretty certain he left them back in the 1940s. And there's no aliens as far as he can tell, which is a relief. A civilised kidnapping? He remains on guard. ]

So, uh, anyone out there gonna fill me in on what I'm missing or am I really gonna have to do some investigating? [ He heaves a sigh, the camera pulling away from his face to focus on the uniform he's still wearing, and he mumbles to himself as he fumbles to figure out how to end the feed. ] ...'Cause I could sleep for a week.

[Backdated to a few days ago, after Equius decided to totally decimate Sollux's room. He's decided he's done taking Equius' and Eridan's endless torment.]

2O WHO WANT2 A NEW BLOCKMATE??
becau2e ii am 2o fuckiing done wiith the one2 ii have.

[Katniss is in a tree. It's not clear where, but she's found a tree, and is now sitting in it. Both her bow and quiver are visible. She looks a little more focussed than she did when she first arrived, but also more drawn]

What will they do to us if we don't fight for them?

They used fire, in the Games. Or mutts. Traps to make you move, so that you'd do what they wanted you to do. So what is it here? Or is it going to be a surprise? Lull us into a false sense of security, spring the punishment on us for maximum effectiveness.

If we all just stop, what will they do to us?

Fuck this. I'm tired of waiting for those damn bastards to get their act together. It's not going to happen.

I need everyone's attention. And I mean everyone.

Those Initiative bastards are continuously dragging people, us, to fight in their failure of a war. We hardly have a choice in the matter, and the entire situation is just sick and wrong. But the worst of it is that they're dragging in anyone they can grab. Not all of us can hold a sword or throw fireballs at our enemies and yet they're supposed to be able to defend themselves.

And before any of you get started, this isn't some kind of rebellion.

What I'm proposing is that we get our own act together and organize. Which is why everyone needs to listen to this. If you prefer to be difficult? Fine. I'll be knocking on doors anyways.

First, we need to know who can fight and who can't. DO NOT play hero because you saying you can and want to help others when you actually can't is going to get both you and the person who should have been defending you killed. So be honest.

And if you can fight it'd be nice to know how you can pull that off. In my own case, I'm a mage. I can use both offensive and defensive spells, but I need someone to watch my back and keep the enemies busy while I cast my spells. The idea is to get evenly matched teams so when we're thrown into a battlefield in the middle of our sleep three or seven or whenever nights from now, we'll be able to organize ourselves and survive.

[Taking in a deep breath, she's getting so worked up! She needs a moment, okay.]

I can't organize this on my own and I shouldn't even have to. If you think you can help gather answers from others, do it. Let's not keep making these same damn mistakes.

[A long pause and then...]

... Thanks.


[OOC: Okay. I'm making a spreadsheet for everything that will act as both an OOC reference and an IC reference for organizing actual battle parties. I'm hoping to have the spreadsheet basics done by tomorrow and I'll post that on the OOC comm then (it's a Google doc/spreadsheet). The way the spreadsheet will work is going to do with numbers 1-10 on ability (-numbers meaning a threat, 1 meaning defenseless, 10 meaning you're god in a bottle), list of types, and so on. Details on that OOC post tomorrow. BUT IC responses will also be useful! Because Fiona really will be knocking on doors. And it may help me get a basis to better shape the spreadsheet. IC wise, no need for numbers. That's just weird.]

[ the video is flipped on to show the transports' living quarters, one of many identical bedrooms (not his, really, but the one that he's been given), and wesley -- tired and kind of pissed off, if you'd like to know. ]

Okay, fine, I buy it. This is the future. Now would someone tell me how I get a hold of a ticket back a thousand years? -- what year was it, 3300-something? Yeah, I'd like a ticket back to 2008.

[ it's not directed to anyone in particular, but the network as a whole, and if there's anybody around who'd like to slit his throat or put a bullet in his skull? here he is, so come out, come out. time to show yourselves so he can know what the hell he's up against. ]

All I got from the future lady in the fancy clothing was bullshit about time travel. They want us to help change history so some assholes can overthrow the government? [ ha ha ha fuck no he's not helping you guys out. you kidnapped the wrong person. ]

Might as well use their time machine or whateverthefuck they've got to head back to 1934. Grab the opportunity and kill Hitler. I'm thinking it'd get me a pretty impressive medal.