[ When Apollo appears on the video feed, she doesn't quite look her usual, overexcited self. Physically she looks a little bit different than normal as well - a couple new tattoos on her chest/shoulder, slightly longer hair, that sort of thing - but for the most part, she's still recognizably Apollo. She takes a breath, getting ready to speak, but then just lets out a sigh that turns into a long, drawn out groan that ends with, ] Fuck.

[ But okay here she goes, she's straightening herself up and she's ready to address the public properly now. ]

So hey is this just a fuckin' thing now? You're here, then you ain't, then you are again a week or months later when really you spent a couple years back home and-- Gods, y'know what, no, forget it 'cause I don't even fuckin' care.

[ Despite her claim of not caring, her shoulders sag as she throws her head back and groans some more, and lets a brief, humourless laugh escape her as irrational frustration catches up to her again. ]

My harem! They're all gone. Well, then again, all the good ones got eaten by a fuckin' sea monster a couple weeks ago anyway but still, god I'm fuckin' here in the snow where wow it doesn't mean fuck all that I'm the Pirate King of Ce Monde, huh? Or Lord of the Espalion Isles, or the Sea Strumpet's captain - hah! That's great, that's perfect! [ Only it really isn't, she just has to bitch and force herself to laugh in a poor attempt to deal with this bullshit. ] I mean shit I know I'm improved and even more fantastic than fuckin' before right down to my tits, but shit sake's just fuck, fuck. Gods above and below, it's only been a few days here, hasn't it?

[ Another heavy sigh as she sinks back again. She seems to be feeling a little bit better now that she's got that off her chest though. ] Whatever, I'm back, I'm King of the Sea, and I'm gettin' myself a few goddamn drinks.

[the camera starts off upside down, before Tempest hisses out a curse and rights it. She briefly makes a face and pushes some hair out of her face - hair that is distinctly longer and a different, somewhat lighter color than the stark black it had been. Which . . . could explain why she's been MIA for the past two days, and why she looks confused at first]

Well, this is . . . hm. Odd. [she mutters just loud enough for the camera to hear] It really has been a while . . . .

Anyway, I've an offer and a request. I plan to do some hunting, so if anyone is in need of meat I would be more than willing to hunt a little extra. I am not looking to trade, though I will not say no to anyone who offers to.

As for my request, I am looking for someone familiar with . . . hm, symbols? Any kind. My thanks in advance.

[Seviilia is hardly fit for any sort of video communication, and so her ghostly tones come across the network mostly in monotone, absent of her usual sadistic brand of glee. Its been a tough month in lockdown.

But she's been busy the past twenty four hours with Koltira Paroleweaver. No sense in wasting resources.]

Should anyone have need of fur, I am in possession of excess.

You will need to bring your own skinning knife. You are of course welcome to the meat as well, but I would not suggest harvesting any of it unless you are capable of cleansing disease.

If you head south from the landing point, I am not difficult to miss.

[ooc: Open log here.]

[ Hi so here's a video of this asshole sitting on the floor of her moonbase room, looking... messily festive. She's got a few strings of silver tinsel randomly wrapped around her head and shoulders, a string of blinking, multi coloured lights hanging over her wings, and there appears to be a snowman sticker stuck to her cheek. ]

Right so I've been packin' shit up and I realized I never said hey fuck you guys like I should've, so hey fuck you guys, especially you Earthy folk 'cause not a single one of you fucks told me about department stores. I mean fuckin' come on, look at all the shit they have -

[ She tilts the camera to the floor around her and wow yeah she sure has been robbing Walmarts. Actually you can't even see the floor itself, it's just... stuff, literally everywhere, with barely a thing in her suitcase (which still has all the tags on it) that's just laying there among the pile, open and abandoned. Apollo then sets the tablet back down on the bed so she can once again have her hands free. ]

Hey by the way, Donny and medfriends, got the shit you wanted. Got uh, little hammered there for a bit and I mighta temporarily lost the damn bag I put it all in but I got it again! You assholes still on the moon or didya take off to snowland already? And actually y'know what, speakin' of snowland, I'm gonna be real sweet and letcha haaaaave [ rustle rustle ] some of these too! ( an ooc but totally not ic cut, JUST IN CASE since she's gonna be real vulgar for a second here sorry )



By hey seriously it looks really goddamn cold down there and Metalhead ate the gloves I stole, anyone wanna help a tropical girl out and gimme somethin' to keep my fingers from freezin' the fuck off?

Hello again, Esilium. Long time no talk-- [Chloe's looking under the weather in terms of wear and tear only; her bright eyes actually bright today for a change. For the first time in months, as a matter of fact.] good god does it feel good to be free again. Never thought I'd be saying those words, but there you have it.

And don't worry, no more lectures on this end. No more daily mutineering announcements: I can catch up on what I missed in lock up by scrolling though the network on my own and I've got a more important issue that needs addressing first. [There's a brief pause before she adds, gently as possible:] Obviously anyone that wants to talk shop about what went down is welcome to, of course. Just-- you know. We're on the fast track to recovery around here from what it looks like, so I'm not about to force anything else down anyone's throats as long as that remains the case.

Thanks, by the way, for not unanimously voting for throwing us all out the airlock. [Nice to know not everyone wants them done in or worse.]


Right, though, to the point. I need someone willing and capable of doing tattoo work. Good tattoo work.

In this case I'm even willing to consider the magical sort so long as nothing additional goes along with it. Not really a fan of curses and poisoned apple nonsense.


Additional text addressed to Vanozza:

not sure if I should be thanking you for this or asking why you of all people are signing up to look after someone like me right now

[ Roslyn is behind the camera again, face stern, Vennett & Lowell seated just behind her. She’s looking as calm and professional as she can, though traces of exhaustion are seeping through regardless of her best efforts. ]

I’m going to make this as brief as possible. We do not have laws governing the actions undertaken recently by people currently in custody. While hopefully there will shortly be a fuller code of conduct, we cannot apply it retroactively. I do not have the resources to keep anyone locked up indefinitely, nor can I provide a fair trial, and it would be morally suspect to do either in the current environment.

I believe there is a solution to this, one that several others agree with, including Lowell Orwin and Vennett here with me, both of whom were held hostage by these people and have a fair amount of insight into their mindset. However, given that you will all have to live with it as well, I’m going to bring this solution to general consensus.

Under this arrangement, as a first part all current prisoners will be released into the custody of someone who will agree to monitor their actions and ensure that they are not able to plan anything further. These parole officers will either be volunteers from the general population or police officers if necessary, and all will be very carefully vetted. If it is necessary we will ask them to submit to a brief telepathic scan.

The second part of this arrangement would be undertaking a set amount of missions under the supervision of Orwin and Vennett with the goal of putting forth effort into our return to Earth. I am assured that they will be doing real work that will benefit us all.

This is the solution that I and others hope will work best for everyone involved, as well as free up resources to continue working towards getting off of this base and setting up an actual system of leadership.

While Jesse Pinkman was not a member of this, as he has given back all powers taken he would be released under the same conditions.

This is being presented to you all as, essentially, a poll. That is the first option. The second option is ‘other’, and if that is your answer I must insist you provide a fully thought through and careful plan that does not simply consist of ‘strand them somewhere’ or ‘airlock them’. Should enough support be shown for a provided 'other' plan over parole, it will be considered as an option. 

Thank you all for your time. I hope this will be resolved very shortly.

[ And cut. ]


[ ooc: this is an ic poll of the population! you may vote once with each character you have in game. roslyn and others are available for question answering and so forth. ]

[He's so bored, he can't take it anymore. Asking for trouble, maybe, but there's all kinds of excitement he's missing with the new arrivals, and he's not used to missing out on it. He keeps the video feed off, unlike usual, because both his cell and he himself are a mess. His voice is only slightly hoarse, recovering from a first week in custody that was spent screaming.]

So what's the deal with all you new guys? Usually I do this in person but I'm, uh, a little tied up right now. Anyway, lemme hear it. Where you from? Whatcha usually get up to? How you feeling about being in this skanky shithole up on the moon?

Hope the rest of you guys didn't leave 'em starving.

[Hello, friends. A cold-eyed elf with a fairly significant skin condition stares at the camera, his jaw set, his mouth a thin, inscrutable line.]

Talk of a council is all well and good, but we have another matter in front of us.

As many of you have pointed out, there is no formal system of law in place. At present, those of you who acted as peace officers have simply continued as you were in your own worlds. If you brought others to justice, if you spoke about justice -- you have continued to see this as your right.

[His eyes narrow, drawing his long eyebrows together.]

But it is not your right. Your laws are not universal. Your morality is not sacrosanct.

We must decide on appropriate conduct as a whole, with consideration given to perspectives outside of our own.

I propose that any code we settle on be simple and direct. For example:

1. Murder shall be abolished. In the case of murder, execution.

2. Theft shall be abolished. In the case of theft, the hand shall be cut off at the wrist. Repeat offenders shall lose both hands.

3. Conspiring with the United Earth shall be considered treason. In the case of treason, suspected or actual, execution.

4. Bodily autonomy shall be respected. Knowing efforts to mind control, telepathically invade, steal, or otherwise forcibly take spiritual or physical authority over another sentient being will constitute assault. In the case of this assault, execution.

And so forth.  These are merely ideas, of course.

[His lower lip twitches, suggesting that he's perfectly aware of the extremes he's recommended. Suggesting that he's just trying to get your attention, to get you to think about how you would define your own terms. What constitutes murder? Theft? Conspiracy? Justice? He's only asking.

Maybe.]

[After several hours, the post is edited with a very carefully recorded text attachment.]

( alternatives.txt )

Remember when I asked if anyone could cut hair? Well now that everyone has stopped being a little shit, I'd like to get my hair cut and dyed.

Anyone want to join? Bring booze.

Buenos dias, my lunar comrades. Or buenas noches. Something.

I think I finally just figured out what's really shitty about being in this place.

Missing your family and friends and knowing not a single one of them gives a shit 'cause nobody back home even knows you're gone. Lesson time, kids - time travel isn't nearly as stylish as the movies make you believe. No it ain't.

[Heck, he even misses his evil twin brother. And the nerdy obsessive one, too. Bluh bluh.]

Being kidnapped kinda ruins the whole shindig, anyway.

Sooo. What's up, homies?

[ He doesn't actually really like text; he's not great with technology and there's bound to be some spelling/grammar errors, but right now he trusts typing more than his ability to keep a professional tone. So be it. ]

Hi.

First things first this isnt going to be a lecture. Tensions are high enough and Ive barely been here long enough to have the whole history down yet. (Working on it) Besides, you've already herd plenty of it. So this isnt about that.

[ Not overtly, anyway. He's trying to do the "subtlety" thing. He's not taking notes or anything. ]

I'm Doug by the way. Mostly I'm trying to figure everything out still, you know. That sort of thing. I'm a curious and openminded sort of person wich is why I have some questions:

1. Whats your favorite thing about being here?
2. And least favorite thing?
3. If you had to make up 1 rule what would it be?
4. Why's the coffee so bad & Are there vending machines (where)?

Thank you thats all.

Hi! Hi again, to people I know already, hello for the first time, to anyone I haven't met yet. I'm Ashraf Salib, one of the heads of the clinic, high priest, snazzy dresser… [ He waves a hand. ] General things like that.

So, I'll get straight to the point. In the wake of the mutiny, I've seen a lot of talk on the network that I haven't seen before. Establishing a code of conduct, uniting… there was even some discussion of who you personally look to as a leader. Whatever your opinion of the mutiny may be, you have to admit that it's sparked some new subjects for us. And I'd say they're things we've been needing to talk about.

It isn't just a matter of wresting control from the Initiative, I think that was overly hasty and shortsighted. I think what we should be looking at is how to take control of ourselves. We're a really big group up here, with over three-hundred of us. That's a lot of voices to be heard at once, especially when none of them have much in the way of a recognized authority.

So, I think that should change.

My suggestion would be a council, voted on by the entire Transport body from a number of nominations. The people that we most trust are the ones we should have speaking for us — deciding for us. Because someone needs to. That we're still locked in this base after over two months up here should be evidence enough that it's difficult to achieve much of anything with no one calling the shots.

I've got some specific ideas about the organization of this council, which I wrote down and can attach here, but I want to hear from you. How should we organize ourselves? How can we decide who to listen to? This won't work if we don't all agree to it, and we need to agree on something. We're in a precarious position up here that frankly can't last, and it's past time that we take it into our own hands to change that.

( Council Specifics )

So, I've been thinking the last couple of days, watching and listening to everything that's going on and something that... uh...

[Hold on, he's checking the post history.]

...Collette mentioned earlier on popped into my head. Odds are we're never going ot agree on someone to lead us, let alone make decisions for everyone - we're from way too many different worlds for that.

[Although he also doesn't really think that should be a giant obstacle, but considering the giant buckets o' opinions this place has...]

We don't even really have a set of laws to govern us - or a government. Which is understandable, given we're basically a bunch of refugees. Anyway - Collette mentioned putting together a code of conduct we can all agree on - or at least most of us can - and that we use to sort of guide our interactions with each other.

It won't be a law, we won't really have punishments or anything set out. But at least we'll have an idea of what's not OK to do to one another. And maybe it'll let us get ourselves sorted out so we can really start addressing how we're going to win this war and get off of this rock.

[No offense, people who like Earth's moon.]

We're not exactly going to be able to do that if we're busy yelling at each other about... cirme and punishment. Maybe I have more sympathy for that line of thinking, since I'm in a rebellion back home.

What do you guys think? Oh, and sorry Collette. I know it's your idea, but I thought I'd get it out there for people to see. Uh, hear.

[Sonya appears on the screen without her usual preambles or cheerful introductions. Her manner is very, very controlled. The casual Bronx vowels that occasionally creep into her speech are gone. The profanities are gone. Every once in a while, she glances down; this is a prepared statement.]

Earlier today, Jesse Pinkman snuck into one of the prisoner cells under false pretenses. He’d been friends with one of the mutineers before all of this happened, so he claimed to merely want to visit.

While he was in there, he mutilated this prisoner in spirit and soul. He ripped from her her ability, her inborn gift, to cast spells. He tore away from her something as vital to her as eyesight or touch might be for you. And did he did this to defend someone? To stop an attack or a threatened attack? No: he did it to punish her. To make her suffer. And then he said to her that this is how things are running now.

( fuzzy drama funny drama drama drama fuuuck (ps not an ic cut) )

[ Dick’s sitting in a nondescript corner of what’s probably the cafeteria, facing the screen at a front and center angle that could almost pass for a little rehearsed. He’s tired and drawn, posture curled in and oddly small. He has a hand in his hair, awkward and unsettled. If he's been practicing this, it's not showing much. ]

I, um. Hey.

I just wanted to say I’m turning myself in now. As one of the guys who brought down the systems and took over the base. [ Specificity is important. His eyes aren't on the tablet anymore, but he's still speaking. ]

-Which I know I could’ve done couple of days ago. But I didn’t because I thought maybe... [ a faint, rushed breath out. ] –maybe I could still fix it. And maybe it’d just be easier if I didn’t say anything. [ For the people in jail. And the people on the outside. ]

...But it wouldn’t be. That would just be me letting somebody else take the whole rap for something a lot of people already know I had a hand in. And then not speaking up is on them too. So it has to be this way. [ He’s thinking about you, Kate. 8( ] ( cut for long-winded rambling + an addendum )

( When she speaks, Collette aims to sound warm. She's tired, keyed up, and confused as well as trying to understand what's gone on since the mutiny began, and what's continuing in the aftermath. She brings a question she'd talked to Ros about, in her own way; something she wants to know very simply because she doesn't, and it's all the more important now.

Out of respect for that same woman, she keep's Ros's name out of this. )

When it comes down to do or die, who do you trust here to make decisions to pull people through, and not leave people stranded high and dry, or freeze up and fall into inaction? People who keep their temper in heated circumstances. Ones who maybe aren't going to forget the bigger picture, even if that doesn't make it easy on the smaller scale.

I've got a few names myself! Blue, Kate Kane, Nathan Summers, Caesar Silverberg, Lenalee Lee, Xerxes Break, Gilbert Nightray, Jaime Reyes, Ashraf, Kang, Peter Quill, Donny, Armin Arlert, Chrono and Rosette, even Dick Grayson and Ahiru and Vanadi, of all people, would stand by you figuring things out.

Those are some of mine. What're yours?

( I'm going to keep talking, though, so you might want to tune out if you don't want to hear me ramble about a few maybe important, maybe not things! )

[Saul would've come to the network sooner, but his earpiece picked something up not long after the network came back online.

So, he waited.

And waited.

And now, he thinks, is as good a time as any for this broadcast.

He's seated in DITR's office; the interior looks much the same as any other bedroom on the base, but in lieu of the beds, there's a medium-sized desk. This is where he's perched in his usual pose with elbows on his knees, hands folded, leaning forward just slightly and addressing the camera — which someone else is holding — with an expression so grim it somehow almost seems amused.]

This is not how you get what you want.

[A pause. He appears thoughtful for a moment, then waves a dismissive hand at nothing and smooths down his tie.]

I mean, sure, it must've sounded great in theory. And I'd bet any amount of money that you all thought you had your bases nice and covered, buuut —

[Tch.]

Looks like maybe not, if the network being back online is any indication. Hi, by the way. Are you having fun yet? Because that whole lack of gravity thing — man, that was a blast. I'm just wondering, you know, if this is gonna work in your favor the way you'd all hoped. Messing with the systems is all well and good and yeah, okay, we get your point: you're mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore. Fine.

But I think — and this is just my lawyerly opinion — you're gonna have a hell of a time dealing with the fallout from this. And I promise you, Charlie, there will be fallout. Civilized fallout, of course, assuming no one gets hurt. I'll keep my promise if you keep yours.

[He grins, then winks.]

Anyway, I dunno about everyone else, but I'm waiting with bated breath for your next move. And if you need anything from us —

[A quick sweep of his arm to indicate the entirety of the room and, with it, the entirety of DITR's staff. Whatever anger he's been keeping at bay finally seeps through, Saul's eyes narrowing for the split second it takes him to say:]

Good fucking luck.

[And off goes the video feed.]

( A few minutes later, a text message for the DITR staff: )

[the feed clicks to audio, and suddenly there's a very loud enthusiastic greeting.]

Hellooooo Exsilium!

Nailed it.

[the greeting ends as soon as its last syllable of "um" drops, and the post switches to text.]

Great! Everyone heard that, right? Now that the whole pleasantries thing is out of the way (as well as our B-Movie undead run-for-your-life quasi-fiasco), there are some suggestions that I must present to make us all the more comfortable. Please kindly lend your ears and open your hearts! The Initiative is welcome to take such suggestions, so I hope you've your ears open. I've condensed these to a brief number! Onward!

(1) A party every Saturday featuring the round Italian pastry covered in a copious variety of cured meats. I also propose that we're offered a number of stylish festive hats for the occasion. Top hats are in season, and nothing is complete without some kind of festive hat to show our enthusiasm.

(2) While I hardly mean to offend the technology offered to us by our captors, we're left regrettably with a single App that does a single boring thing and absolutely no games! I would settle for Birds of the Angry Emotional Feelings, or perhaps the Saga of Crushed Candy! Anything mind-numbing to pass the time. Even some Exsilium produced space-cat forum!

As a side note, anything of interest and practical use may also be warranted for App exploration. Perhaps something for these "missions" I've heard so much about. Or lists. Yes, lots and lots of Apps for lists. Perhaps a App of lists that lists all the App lists.

(3) Also include the Internet On-Line World in the suggestion above.

(4) I suspect it vital that we all learn how to walk on the moon. We're in luck! I've heard of what's appropriately dubbed "the moon walk." It's a series of difficult steps in Midgardian dance that cause the illusion that you're walking forward, yet you're walking back! Quite helpful in the scheme of things while we take residence.

This is a very small list for those of us who have been captured from our homes and drafted into an unknown future-war that none of us even had suspect of happening! All in favor of boosting morale.

Oh, yes.

I see that some of you are quite aware of the handle of "Loki." If you could give me any such knowledge of your experiences with this fellow I would be eternally grateful. Eternally grateful ... IN SPACE!


Posted from my StarkPhone

I just gotta say, a moon zombie encounter was exactly what I wanted for my birthday. You guys sure know how to make a person feel right at home.

But seriously, what the hell was up with that and can we nix that from the schedule in the future? If there are other zany, undead surprises lurking around here, it'd be great if you could give a head's up ahead of time.

[The video flicks on to a shaky view of the ceiling, and the only sound is indistinct muttering for a few seconds until Victor figures out he's recording] Ha! Got ya.

[Theres a blur of movement and then a face, front and center. The man on the other end, who has smears of dirt across his brow and is holding his tablet in both hands, looks pleased as punch for a moment before he remembers why he's doing this.]

Name's Victor Sullivan. Right. I know everyone's in a tizzy right now about whatever goddamn thing has gone sideways, but I've got a request. These Initiative fellas didn't exactly give me fair warning before hauling me in, so I've got about six layers of grime and and I smell like the ass-end of a skunk.

[He looks away from the screen and scratches absently at an eyebrow, the arm is equally dirty and the sleeves of his shirt look stained at best.]

I managed to find the showers finally, but I don't have anything to change into so I can get these damn clothes washed. If anyone's got something they could lend me for a couple of hours, I'd sure appreciate it.

[He considers his position for a moment, then grins] Truth is I don't have much to offer in exchange but I'll gladly share a cigar with the man willing to lend me a hand.

[It's been a long time since he's had to think about this. Peter hasn't been an astronaut in years, and at some point he just became so used to space that he didn't even think about how to adapt to all the changes anymore.

So here he is: one very tired looking man, with a chipped mug full of coffee, and a well-worn uniform, because he's got to do something and space is his thing and somebody's got to do something to help, and the person to do something has always been him.]

So, to start this whole thing off, I guess I'd better introduce myself. My name is Peter Quill. I'm the Star-Lord, and the leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy. I don't expect you to have heard of us around here, what with all the many wonderful alternate universe options available. But we're very much around, and we're going do whatever we can to get some of this mess fixed up.

[Swear to god Gamora and Adam you had better not dare contradict him on that.]

Before I was the Star-Lord, though, I used to be an astronaut. Our space base was a little bit fancier than this, when I was around, but it was pretty much the same set-up, so I figured I would offer up some advice on how to deal with living in a place like this.

First, you might have noticed the moon doesn't abide by Earth hours anymore. Really try to make yourself keep to them anyway, because otherwise you're going to be in for a really rough ride and we'll probably run out of coffee way before the week's out. Repair guys, if we could maybe get something running to simulate a natural cycle, that would help a lot.

[Not that he even notices it anymore. One reason for all that coffee: he's been so many places that his system is probably fucked for good.]

You might have noticed that this place is technically really small. You may start to feel a little bit cramped, or start sleeping a lot, or start getting really paranoid that your roommate might be stealing your stuff or trying to kill you in your sleep. That's called cabin fever, and if you think you have it, try to get the hell out of here and take some kind of mission that gets you back on Earth, because you're doing nobody any favors trying to tough it out or pretend it's not happening. Especially since we're all going to be here for the foreseeable future.

[He can't really pretend he's happy about that, either, but at least he's used to having no privacy and living in close quarters with other people by now. Even people he kind of hated! It's amazing what you can get used to.]

Oh, and all that freeze-dried food is going to get really old, really fast. I'm not kidding. That crap is awful. Trust me, you will get sick of it so fast you won't even believe it was possible. So whoever ends up being responsible for restocking supplies, I beg you to try to get anything that lasts that's not that.

[Pause, for a dramatic sip of coffee.]

If you've got anything else you're worried about, feel free to come ask me about it. I'll be around.

Adam, Gamora- we're going to try to set up base in the first convenient reclaimed space there is, so until then we're gonna have to operate out of someone's bedroom. And so help me Gamora, if you left behind that coffee pot, it's on you to replace it. I don't care if it might not even work, it's the principle of the thing.

[Look who's smoking and no one was surprised. However, she's down to her last pack.]

This certainly puts a wrench into my project. I guess I could use the break, though. You can only look at binary numbers for so long before you start to get cross-eyed.

Also, I'm willing to set up a deal with anyone who can... trim my hair. [Only she can cut it.]

[There's another pause.]

And lastly, I'll begin a trade for tobacco products. Any.

[Being on the moon felt like her first day in Exsilium]

[ Good morning, Exsilium, did you miss the regal? Regina is wearing a blouse of purple silk and a black pencil skirt. Where does she gets her clothes is a mystery, it almost seems like magic, does it not? ]

Well my time here has certainly proved to be exiting so far.

[ the words are almost physically dipped in sarcasm but what can you do. ]

To the newly arrivals I can only wish a quick adjustment to this --- colorful city of ours. To the ones who have been here for quite some time, I would ask two questions. The first, where do crops grow, if at all? Are there any lands here fitting for such? I know that the weather is hardly favorable yet the question remains.

[ she can grow apples either way since magic but the attention would be unwelcome. ]

the second, are there any official records of the history of the city and the war? for those of us who wish for some extensive reading?

[Here's the voice of a possibly familiar British gent. Some may know him as a Transport from the past, others may recognise the iconic charm, while plenty may well just think he sounds like a total dick. All would be correct. Whatever your thought, he's back, masterfully managing a tone of smug disinterest as he addresses the community as a whole.]

Looks like the Initiative are still up to their usual tricks. Can't really blame them for wanting me back. [He is perfect, after all.

A beat, thoughtful, as if he's considering his words, briefly wondering on whether to use this opportunity to chase up on facts and information only to settle with a conceited:]

Miss me?