[ the video's not all that well focused or held, mostly getting her shoulder and part of her face except for the moments she readjusts it back to focusing on her face temporarily. the light is dim, wherever she is, and between the blood drying on her and the way her voice keeps hitching as she stumbles over words, the unsteadiness of her hands holding the tablet, and the way her head tips back against the wall she's leaning against every so often as if she can't quite hold it up - she's not in great shape. ]

You know, someone should get to work on this machine's timing. Adjust it a little bit. Make it stop being a fucking piece of shit. Or taking people who don't want to be taken. Or - I don't know, what else is it up to lately? How long's it been.

[ breaking off. she's forgotten what she needed to say, is looking off at nothing in particular for a long moment. abruptly - ]

What's that story about the lady and the tiger? With the princess whose lover has to pick one of two doors as punishment, and one has a tiger and the other has a woman he'll have to marry. And she makes a gesture to tell him which one to pick, but the story doesn't tell you which one the door had behind it.

I guess a little closure's too much to ask for.

[ blood loss: good for clarity. ]

I could use a doctor.

[ ooc: charlie cutter & tempest get providing aid rights, but if you would rather action it up she'll be wandering around the area for part of the day and can be run into most anywhere just checking everything out. ]

( Cue one video post with Mr. Casey, looking a couple years older. The thin grey sweater covers up all the major markers of change in terms of more tattoos and more scars, save for a thin one running across his throat. Maybe the light obscures it - maybe it doesn't. The real thing is that he looks calmer, less uncomfortable with himself, even doing a video post. More steady, less haggard. Like he actually might sleep instead of being constantly run down. )

Uh, hey. I just-- thought I should um, let p-people-- know I'm back.

( Actually he got a little while ago, as those living with Max probably know, but he's sort of been sticking around her pretty constantly all that time. Not being around when she returned to the house seemed like a bad idea, all things considered. )

Or if you knew uh, a guy c-called-- called Atlas. That was me, too. I don't um, don't really do the secret identity thing anymore. Just if anyone wanted to uh, track him d-down.

( he takes a couple more pauses when he speaks, goes through more slowly, less of the urgent need to jsut spit it out from before.

Well. There's... not much more to say. Really he needs to go and catch up with people one on one, talk to the clinic, find his friends, see how things are. This just felt necessary.

A little nod to the camera, a slight smile, and the feed cuts. )

Hi, I'm Kate Bishop, and I'm a superhero. [There's a pause before she goes on.] There's a chance that doesn't mean much to many of you. There may even be some of you questioning the legality of vigilantes, but I'm not the type that goes too far. There's a reason why we kind of prefer "superhero" over "vigilante" anyway. For those of you who do know them, I'm an Avenger. But that's meaningless here. And I'm not really here to ... brag, either.

[Her voice is warm either way. There's a reason why she's here.]

Back home, I've got a like-minded group that tends to go on missions like the ones here. I was hoping to form something like that. It won't be the same, but I've got a couple teammates and not the whole set. We'd do pretty well for ourselves, but we need a couple more helping hands. So that's why I'm here. Well, partly.

[There is a question she has about this whole alternate earth business, but she'll get to it. She really wants a cohesive unit working together, as that seems to be the best way to proceed forward.]

The other goal I'd like for our group is to mobilize and help people in need. I can do this myself, and I'm planning on it, but more hands at the deck might help out. We don't just need this in missions, and from what I've read, we don't know what's gonna come next. I know it's risky to put together a group like this with how people come and go, but I'm prepared to deal with that. Plus, I don't just back down from something. I'm kind of stubborn that way.

If you've already got something like this going and wouldn't mind a few more people, I'd love to chat with you. I'm an archer mostly, but I have other gifts. One member is a ... [a trickster? How does one even sell Loki?] ... well, I'm sure he's good at something. And the final is an alien with advanced knowledge of technology that he might share. He's also got bug DNA and is extremely flexible. [That last bit. She really had to add that last bit.] So let me know.

The other question is: in the annals of this world, have people of Earth found evidence that they existed? Back home, alternate Earths like this usually mean ... alternate versions of us, which can either be a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. I'm thinking bad, considering the state of things. I was just wondering.

[the camera shifts beneath the hands of an amateur as it's set on a flat surface. it's on a bit of an angle, but the position is acceptable. Loki skitters back eagerly, peering into the camera and then waving his hands in show. as he scoots back it's apparent some awful fashion travesty has happened, because he's wearing a terrible Christmas sweater, complete with a big bow pulled over his Asgardian robes. it goes down to his knees.]

It's been an exciting few weeks now, hasn't it? Hello again, Exsilium! I've come to give the gift of Christmas Spirit, marketing gimmicks aside, of course! [he takes a few steps backward as he faces the camera, holding a hand to his chin.] Why, what could be done to spread the cheer of the Yule holiday? With everything that's happened, it does get a bit depressing here ... right in the center of a self-defeating winter full of abominable beasts that wish for nothing more then our untimely demises. And there's still time travel to think about! And our impending existential crises! Terrible, right?

[he holds up a finger suddenly.] Yet I bring Yuletide cheer to brighten all. Surprise! Nothing so extreme as coal in socks and indefinitely kept cakes of fruit, but something more humble in its ageless practice! The ugly Christmas sweater! [he suddenly steps aside and there is a very festive looking red and green pile of awful, terrible, but very warm looking ugly Christmas sweaters. the mass has to at least be up to his shoulder, and there are all different kinds. but is where he got all these fugly knit novelties really a question that anyone wants to ask?] I'm opening requests to lend everyone some spirit! Please make them below so they can all be filled in a timely fashion, all formality, of course. No need to crowd, there's plenty for everyone. All requests can picked up promptly.

Jolly exclamations of ho ho ho and stuff!

-
UGLY YULE KNIT THREADS ADOPTION FORM
(1) Your name (or your unknowing buddy's name), of course, and the sweater you wish to adopt.
(2) Tell me of your intended sweater schemes. How will it aid you on endeavor to spread holiday cheer?
(3) Very fashion!
(4) Are you a super hero (Peter Parker)? Put your name (not Peter Parker) here!


( OOC: go ahead and pick a sweater, he has a load of them. you don't have to fill out the form or anything if you want one! just go ahead and reply however you want. obviously come put them on people who will not put them on themselves. )

[ hey look, after meandering around the place for like three weeks, the guy is finally talking to people who aren't the ones he's meeting at random. gettaloadathat. ]

This is - unlikely in the highest degree, but does anyone happen to know where I can find a piano?

Listen closely, you simpletons, and you will hear my genius! I, the ultra-gorgeous and breathtakingly brilliant Dist the Rose have devised a way to generate heat!

This should be a surprise to no one, as I am a true genius. I will allow you to feast your eyes on my newest creation!

[The camera pans around to a small device, roughly one foot by one foot, covered in a grill and glowing slightly orange. It's clearly constructed by scrap metal, but actually looks to be fairly well put-together- it's in no danger of falling apart.]

I am available to commission for such devices, fortunate for you! They will warm one large room. Contact me if you wish!

[And the camera swings back around. He smiles, pleased with himself, and ends the feed.]

[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.

[She'd been tempted to send a simple Donny Casey is gone text out on the network, but using the text function would imply that she's not capable of anything else, and god forbid she seem as upset by Donny's deperature as she is.

And she realizes that if she's going to be helping with this little government they're putting together, she needs to put herself out more, and being associated with Donny could be an advantage. Not everyone respected him, but he was well liked, and that goes a long way. She can manage the respect part by herself.

So: a video of a young woman, blonde hair tied back and make up simple (though still there, because appearances are important) as she addresses the camera.]

Donny Casey has returned home; considering his involvement in the clinic, I thought it would be best to ensure everyone is aware, rather than trying to track down individuals.

[Also she just doesn't want to talk to that many people one-on-one right now.]

For anyone I haven't met, my name is Max Briest, I am Donny's - partner. [There's a pause before the word, but not as long as it might have been a few months ago.] If there are any arrangements or commitments he had made to you, I will do my best to fulfill them, though if it's in regards to the clinic you may prefer to conact Ashraf or Kirian.

To the new arrivals, welcome, and my apologies for the circustances, as much as they are out of our control. I hope you can all settle in smoothly.

Thank you for your time.

[the feed cuts.]

( 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: )

Okay, so, two things.

One, anyone know how to reattach an arm? Like... fuck, I dunno, I guess you could just sew that shit back on. Or like... heal it on? Anyone got any magic wand-waving bullshit for that? Or science it back on, I guess, since holy fuck this is the moon, and all. Hey, are we over that part yet? Cuz I'm pretty fucking jaded. Turns out they weren't kidding when they said that thing about no one hearing you scream in space! They can't hear you bitch in space, either. It blows serious donkey balls out there, once you get your ass over the moonwalking part.

Oh, right, thing two. Anyone seen a decapitated head anywhere? Blond hair, rotted out eyes, answers to Luke? You just lemme know if you seen that little scamp, 'kay? He ran off somewhere, can't turn my back for a goddamn second on that fucker.

[ feel free to have spied Jan's missing head-trophy anywhere around the moon base :') it got shrunken and preserved somewhere along the line, and could pretty much have been left anywhere. ]

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.

So this is like some sort of comic, yeah? I get zapped to like the future and there's some apocalyptic war and like now people have powers? [She seems a little enthusiastic about this. She's gotten trapped in like Sid's dreams or something. That's what this is.]

I feel like I should be half naked. [Or all naked. She grabs her chest and looks down. If this is Sid's dream, shouldn't her breasts be out more? Shouldn't there be sex? Or actually Sid... Or--]

What about those tights? Superhero outfits have like nothing to them, right? Do we get one of those?

[Because clearly she's lost all sense of reality.]

Wow. But I like totally don't have a superhero name. [Beat.] It would definitely have the word pussy in it.

[Hahaha. She's so amused. Smiling a little widely with a bright smile, she really does look innocent, despite what she just said.]

Oh. I'm Cassie. Hi. [She wiggles her fingers before shutting the feed off.]

[The voice on the network may not technically be shouting, but there's a distinctly hard edge to the words that easily translates into 'Oh my god I can't even believe this right now.']

Oi! Anyone using fire to deal with this nonsense had better knock it right off! I don't care if your fire's made of magic, Harry Potter, it's still probably burning up oxygen when you use it to light these bastards up-- and I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in bloody space.

[There's a beat, a sharp intake of breath as Charlie wills himself to not flip the nearest table. Finally, in a low steely tone:] We need oxygen for other things. Like, oh, breathing. Figure out a different way of doing things.

( THE SETTING: the setting isn't exciting. I mean, it's the clinic and it looks extremely clean and well organised, but that's probably more a relief to any observers than exciting. Donny is himself, dressed in his scrubs, sleeves of the long shirt he wears underneath rolled up so that the tattoos and metal bands around his forearms are visible. He'd look sort of badass if he didn't also look a little bit green.

Fortunately he is surrounded by attractive people and first aid kits! YEAH. AWESOME. Ella is on his right, Flora as his left, although they're positioned on one side of the camera. Almost like they are keeping room for something. )

Um, h-hey. I'm-- I'm Donny, I um, I help in the-- the c-clinic? With-- supplies, and coordinating uh, stuff. ( There's a long pause, and he glances to Flora, fumbling with his words for a second before he can put something together. ) Um, just-- we just wanted to announce that we have um, m-made first aid k-kits for all the Transports. I think-- some of you p-picked them up at the m-meeting? 

( he's making a conscious effort not to fidget, but he looks so uncomfortable, and there's a reason he doesn't... do video posts. This time he's chewing his lip, glancing at Ella for a second before his gaze drops and his fingers curl towards his palms. )

If you haven't g-got one yet, if you c-could um, please come by the c-clinic. It'd b-be-- be good to get um, everyone checked off the list b-before the day n-new Transports arrive. And-- yep.

( Oh what's that? Donny seems to look horrified for a second, before Stephanie steps on camera, holding a first aid kit and modelling its contents the way you might see a car or a fridge or another fantastic prize modelled on a quiz show. Stephanie, please.

She even has a suitable 'game show model' smile, though it turns into a sheepish grin about a third of the way into her little demonstration.

With that ruined, she steps up so she's closer to the camera, putting an arm around Donny's shoulders as she addresses their audience. Donny would like the ground to swallow him up and it shows. ]

Sorry, they dared me to do it. [No they didn't.] Hey, everyone, I'm Steph, and I'm here to help you learn how to use these handy little things, if you'd like. Well, there are a few other people who can teach you as well, but I'm the cutest.

[Donny is looking horrified still (THIS IS A SERIOUS ANNOUNCEMENT), but Steph is all smiles.]

Anyway, most of this stuff is pretty simple, but if you'd like to learn your way around basic first aid, there are some classes you can sign up for, either by replying here, or coming down to the clinic whenever you're free. [a beat, to let that sink in, then:] That's it from me, have a good one, guys.

[And with a little salute, and a pat to Donny's arm, she moves off screen. There's sort of... trepidation and concern in how he looks to the others, now, waiting for them to chip in. ]

Ella is trying to smile next to Donny. She’s been slightly under the weather -a lot, actually- but hearing him make an effort and kind off flail at it does wonders for her mood. Maybe she’s a bit of a bad friend. Sighing, she takes a step forth as she holds a kit up. ]

It’s free, of course, and we will replenish it whenever you need. It has a bunch of useful stuff, both for treating whatever little nuisance you might have and prevent something serious to get even more serious before you can get help. [ A beat. ] And of course, you should totally come to the Infirmary if you really need to. Having a kit will solve some problems, but here’s where we make sure you get better.

[ She glances at Flora. While Ella can talk for hours, this is a joint effort, so she’ll bite her tongue. For now. ] [She appreciates the self-restraint, Ella. Donny looks at her and she flashes him a warm and encouraging smile. She’s really proud of him for doing this and taking initiative. When Stephanie makes her display, Flora tries to look stern, at least for Donny’s sake, but it’s clear she’s trying very hard not to laugh. She manages it. Somehow. Barely. Boy, does she ever love working here, sometimes. By the time it’s her turn to speak, though, she smoothly takes her cue and is quite composed, if still smiling.]

If for some reason you’re unable to pick up a kit, arrangements can be made to have them delivered to you. We’re here to help, so just let us know, and we’ll do our best to accommodate you.

( Thanks, ladies. BUT BEFORE THEY WRAP THIS UP, Donny kind of shakes himself out of his state of I HATE PUBLIC SPEAKING to add, )

We're-- we're t-trying to uh, make sure we have all our b-bases covered for um, Transports that aren't human. C-cause-- I guess m-most of our knowledge and equipment is human... human f-focused. And-- yeah, any help p-preparing would be great. We have some other staff who aren't human, if you'd uh, f-feel-- feel m-more comfortable talking to them. Galadriel and-- there's also blood d-donations and-- Yeah. You c-can um, always ask us for m-more details and stuff. Thank you.

( Oh God can they turn off the feed now please turn off the feed-- thank God, Flora bounds forward and turns off the device. )


( OOC: Responses will come from Donny and various other clinic folks!
You also don't have to play out your character receiving a first aid kit! These losers will try to make sure every transport has one ASAP, delivering if they must. THEY WILL HUNT YOU DOWN TO GIVE YOU YOUR FIRST AID KIT. But, you know. Politely. )

[ Now that a few days have already passed, there's not much point in moping quietly and ignoring the network for much longer. Hopefully things have settled down a bit by now... ]

It looks like people are already organizing a few missions of their own, which is all fine and good, but we need to look beyond supplies for the short term. Our new headquarters isn't fit for holding this many people, for who knows how long, so aside from supplies, I think we need to put an effort towards fixing that as soon as we can.

First and foremost, we need more power.

Especially if we want to get that Aristeas contraption back up and running. Obviously we don't have the tools and resources to fix that here and now, but I'm sure I can work out a few points in time where we can slip in and change how this place gets built. What I really need is anyone who can help out with the technical side of this, or even to lend a hand with the research, and a few volunteers to run around playing time tag. We're going to need to get our hands on and change blueprints and data and who knows what else.

[ Basically, a call for help. He might be in over his head on this one, with how much tech is going to be involved. That all rambled out, there's a small, awkward pause before he adds: ]

And hello to all the new Transports, I guess. When I first got stuck here, Exsilium had just gotten itself trashed by an army of monsters, but this arrival sure tops that one as the new worst entrance of all.

[ It's just in text at first, but don't let that start your doubts churning. It'll get better. ]

Exsilium! Fuck yes I knew I could f-- People haven't died, the disappearances have been due to the United Earth, because they're raging assholes. Experimenting on people with powers and treating anyone who doesn't seem to have any like relative dirt. Sort of. Anyway, short time, still upgrad--- ing. Oh, shit! Yes! Okay so people who are missing are probably just missing not gone home, I hope [ he really hopes because he hasn't found Pepper yet ], I reserve the right to be incorrect, it doesn't happen often, relish here as necessary. We're in the UE if we are missing, and I'm looking for a few people I already knew were supposed to have been gone. So far no such luck, and I don't know where the base itself is. While that sounds useless, if any of you can crack this ridiculously high powered encryption that even I couldn't crack, then go for it. [ Hint: no one can crack it it's an ooc uncrackable (for now) ] Otherwise, just... Batten down the hatches. I doubt this is gonna turn out well, okay? But it'll be fine. Good to see you guys.


[ second note: I have to sleep but I will hit things in the am and after work so hard like going to the final exam for a class you never attended, hard. word. yo.

EDIT: AND THIRD NOTE tony is totes cool with handing this tablet off to other people currently in the UE who want to get messages to people back in Exsilium, so feel totally free to create a new thread calling someone out and we'll just assume tony either handed it to you, or is looking over your shoulder like a creeper. (edit: if he can, he'll be trying to electrotechopathic his way into your threads. he might not be able to but it won't stop him trying. ]

[Caspian is sitting on his bed, poking and prodding at his tablet, which, unbeknownst to him, is actually on. He's frowning as he works at it, thoughts of his current surroundings occupying his mind. These accommodations are not what he is used to as a king, and he must admit, he finds them both spare and drab. Still, the shelter is adequate, and the bed seems comfortable enough, which is the most important thing. He understands enough to realize that luxury is at a minimum in this world, and he must not expect any comforts beyond the very basics.

He frowns again at the tablet in his hand. Despite instructions given, he really has no idea how this works, but he's keeping himself very busy trying to figure it out. When the screen flickers, he nearly drops it in surprise.]

Oh! I think... I think this is working now? Hello? I talk into this, and I see and hear people talking back, right?

Like... magic. [That's a disturbing thought. In his world, magic is not always to be trusted, especially magic items from origins unknown. So he'll treat this device with caution.]

I should introduce myself. I am Caspian X, King of Narnia. I must ask first: are there any other Narnians here?

[Caspian's not sure what he hopes to hear in answer to that question: he doesn't want to think of any of his people here, brought to this strange and harsh world, but selfishly, he would like to see a familiar face.]

[Chloe--long time no see, network-- is settled down in a dimly lit bit of local architecture. At least it looks that way at first glance; Initiative buildings are usually a touch more pristine, and one hell of a lot more futuristic.]

Evening lads and ladies. Given the way things've been going lately between our sort and the locals, there's no doubt that finding what we need to get by isn't exactly an easy venture. Then again, when everything around here is coated in a couple hundred years of grit, it wasn't all that easy to begin with. [A small, thoughtful little beat. Drummed out on a table too low to see.] Or worth it for that matter.

Which is why after a lengthy hiatus, I'm pleased to announce that my item retrieval service is back up and running-- with a few minor adjustments.

[The camera shifts, dipping slightly as whoever’s holding the tablet shifts their hands. The cameraman in question hisses at her, clearly trying and failing to be discreet:] Oi, your retrieval service?

Well it was mine first. The next time you wind up in an alien future before the rest of us you can go start your own bloody business.

Fine, alright. Go on then. [And the camera shifts up again, less steady than before.]

--Right. So as I was saying. For those of you that need something-- anything-- found or picked up or even gently borrowed from a few bygone eras, Frazer and Cutter's Acquisitions and Fine Antiques is here to manage it for you. For a few nominal fees of course, and with much less glaring than what you’ll find around here.

Trust me, with the sort of luck the Initiative’s been having, you’ll want a pair of professionals on your side.


**Charlie Cutter is in red and the pair of them are more than happy to respond to any incoming inquiries or requests!

[ allison's decided to record this from the rooftop of one of the slightly shorter and less damaged buildings because why not; especially when the air is crisp and cold and helpful in clearing a troubled head. she's brushing back a stray piece of hair when she turns on the video, before using both hands to steady the tablet currently balanced on her knees. though she looks calm, there definitely seems to be a heaviness in her posture — like she's only just taken a moment to relax and let the good and bad of the situation sink in. the latter, it seems, is what's troubling her today. ]

Hi. [ a half-smile ]

I haven't been here too long, so I'm not so good at this. But how do you even begin to stop thinking and worrying about everything back home? Or at least about people. Family.

[ because the realization had been that her dad's alone now. or he's with gerard, which might actually be worse. she knows he's capable of taking care of himself, but she also hadn't exactly left at the best of times either. her tone turns more inquisitive, more determined as her brain tries to grasp at ideas of what she could do. ]

I know trying to be sent back is trouble, but if there's ways to let us travel, shouldn't there be some way for us to leave something? A note, a memento, or something to let people know we're okay.

[ if she could, she's sure he'd find it. she knows it'd probably make things too easy, but a girl can dream, can't she? the silence begins to stretch on too long and allison figures it's time to buck up and at least stop broadcasting her sullenness, so she just adds: ]

Thanks. [ and a shake of her head before the feed's switched off. ]


[ ooc: oops forgot to add that feel free to also find her outside! ]

_{( Remy’s hanging out in what passes for one of the classier taverns, leaning back in a wooden chair as his hair falls over his eyes. He’s eyeing the communicator a little devilishly, and, as ever, he’s shuffling a deck of cards. And though the process is constant, he eventually pulls out exactly the card he meant to: the Ace of Diamonds. )}

Diamonds are called Coins, sometimes. If it was gonna be an element, it’d be Earth. Has ta do with the physical, your body an’ your wealth. People who do work like that, too—merchants, traders.

Sometimes it jus’ means you’re an achiever. Y’like gettin’ things done.

_{( He nods, solemnly, before replacing the card in the deck and continuing with his shuffling. He pulls out the Ace of Clubs, next. )}

Clubs’re different. Called Wands, in the old days. They’re Fire, willpower. People who do hard work, wit’ their hands. If you’re someone who likes destruction, that’s your suit. But that’s no so bad. The world needs breakin’ down an’ buldin’ up.

_{( Another nod, another tilt of his head. The next card is the Ace of Hearts. )}

Hearts’re special, some people think. Used ta be called Cups. They gotta do with Water, with emotion. People who do things spir’tually.

Hearts’re socializers. They like other people, more than things.

_{( He kisses the card lightly before shuffling it back in, pulling out the last. The Ace of Spades. )}

Now, Spades. Also called Swords, sometimes. They’re Air, freedom. But wit’ that comes unpredictability. If you’re a Spade, y’like havin’ authority. But that comes wit’ responsibility, an’ consequences.

Spades’re explorers. They like the unknown, seekin’ out what they might be ‘fraid of o’ what might bring ‘em joy.

_{( That card goes back into the deck, too. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Remy smiles at the communicator once more. )}

So, here’s a question. Which’re you?

Testing, testing... Is this thing on? ALFRED?

[ Despite the sound of rain mostly being filtered out of the audio, there comes a slightly-computerized male voice with none of the background interference. As if it's speaking from inside the microphone. ] We're transmitting.

Positive?

Positive.

All right, and now... [ Video! Here's a young woman with some bright red hair tamped down by the wet rain falling all over her as she walks down the street. She does have a rain jacket on with the hood up, but that never really helps completely. She's wearing a frameless visor over her eyes, but even with that, she may look pretty familiar to some of the Transports here, though her "user name" identifies her as 4d 69 73 68 61 20 48 75 6e 74. ] Voi la! Are we in business?

Not only that, but it's booming.

Great. Okay, now to finally have a point to this instead of just futzing with my new toy. What's the current progress? I mean, sure, all these links to history and general info is great, but there isn't a whole lot of talk on how far we are now, what's left to go, how coordinated the actual effort is... Basically, how much shit is this Initiative still in and how much do we "Transports" have to keep digging?

... also. [ She flips the notepad around to momentarily show the street that she's on, heading toward the apartments. ] Am I going the right way?

[ The silence in the background is full and steady, which makes the fast, uneven breathing behind the tablet a little more out of place than it might have been. ]

My friend, he- Jericho. [ a huffed breath out. ]

They- it wasn’t even an accident. He didn’t have a pulse when I... when I got here. [ not a certainty, the accident part. but a guess. a good guess his head's rushing to already, but he's too upset, too angry to think it through right now. ]

I don’t know how long it’s been but you- you could tell that with the right equipment. With the fractures and the head trauma that’s- that’s a lot of- [ work to do is what he doesn’t say.

no he won’t say that. ]

Whatever it takes, I’ll- whatever the white coats use to bring people back, we’ve gotta use that. There has to be a way, there just...

There has to be.

[Gracing your screen today is one (1) Nathan Young, in a hospital bed. He looks as though he is in the throes of illness--namely because he is--and is even hooked up to a medical ventilator and a few other standard hospital machines like heart monitors or something??? I dunno, I'm not a doctor.

Towards the bottom of the image you can see a sign duct taped to his chest. The first line of it reads "DO NOT REMOVE" in thick black letters and it's clear that there's a second line of text beneath it, but most of it is out of view.]

Alright, tell me somebody's found the cure to this shit by now. I've died four times of this virus already, I'd like to stop now! [On cue, he starts coughing again, and has to lean off-screen while he coughs.] Ugh, it'll be five soon... [When he is back in view, his lips are tinged red.]

Seriously! All of you have really dropped the ball on this one! Just get on with it already and find the cure before my life has to be sacrificed senselessly again, okay?! [By this point he sounds like he's actually pleading. His face contorts into a slight grimace as he finishes up and turns off the video.]

[Seven's smart enough to leave the video off for the moment--she looks fairly terrible and she doesn't want anyone mistaking her for being sick, because she's not. She does sound tired, though.]

I require assistance.

[There's a small pause to gather her thoughts, think about how she wants to continue with this. Admitting to such a weakness--in public, chafes her, but she doesn't really know who specifically to ask. Darn being new.]

I wish to make it clear that I am not ill, and it is unlikely that I will become so. However, the same alterations to my physiology that enhance my immune system require...large amounts of energy to maintain. More than the Initiative is able to provide.

[There's a slight huff. She's exhausted and doesn't quite know how to continue.]

...as I have only recently arrived, I do not have much to offer in compensation. I'm sorry.

[oh, it's a Toph. For once her hair is brushed out of her face, but her eyes look puffy and her nose is red]

Has anyone...

[...

.....

........

...........

SNEEZE!!!!

......snoooorts snot back up her nose.]

...'scuse me.

Has anyone seen a tiny little guy around? Like, the size of your thumb? Real sassy attitude, likes to poke people with tiny little swords? He's my roommate and I haven't seen him in a while.

[sniffles.]

...I hope a cat didn't get him.

[Billy's face appears on the screen. He looks defeated, though he tries to school his face into a professional expression---for the past day or so, his horror's been growing until he couldn't deny his failure anymore.]

Hello. My name is Billy Cranston, and I'm the co-creator of the telepathic devices some of you have been testing for us. I'd like to issue an apology for my part in the failure of the test, and to put a stop to it. Edward Elric served as the director of the test, and he's done a fine job---but as the creation was my idea and I have the most experience with the technology, the fault is mine, not his.

I failed to adequately account for the differences in available materials between the telepathic communicators at my previous residence and what I managed to scrape together here. As a result, private thoughts have been broadcast, and I can't apologize enough for the intrusion.

[He stares idly at his hands for a moment, biting his lip.]

Removing your devices from skin contact should be enough to stop the broadcast, but please return them to the garage at your earliest convenience. I doubt my efforts are salvageable at this point, but...if any of you believe you can fix my mistake, I'd appreciate the assistance.

Once again, I'm sorry.

[He turns away and the feed clicks off]

[edit: added attached note]
I've especially hurt our telepathic population. I never should've sprung that mental assault on you, and I was stupid to think I could fully control it. I'll scrap the project altogether, but...if any of you think it's at all possible to save it, we would appreciate your assistance. I definitely understand if none of you are inclined to offer, though.
---

((and that concludes the broadcast plot! development to fix the devices is open to everyone, and please feel free to backdate telepathy posts if you want in))

( She isn't the Oracle: she has very little faith in the security of this network. Either it has to be a tool for the Huntress, or for Helena Bertinelli. All things considered, Huntress feels a little more pressing.

When Helena speaks, there are traces of Sicily, it's all very charming. With the Huntress, it's all Gotham, rough and harsh, words bitten out more than spoken. )

Any Bats in the belfry?

( A beat. )

I'll rephrase that: keep your eyes on the skyline.

( There's a brief pause and for the trained listener, they might realise that is the sound of a fight happening in the background. Don't interrupt with Huntress with an attempted mugging when she is trying to talk, okay? Okay. )

Anyone else who's washed up here from Gotham, well. On the bright side, ( that was the sound of someone getting kicked in the face ) there's not much this place can throw at us that we didn't have to deal with back home.

( Look at her, being all optimistic. If only it didn't sound so close to scathing. She's on the move, and there's a breath - maybe she meant to say something more? - before a clatter, the pained cry of a male assailant, a sharp crack, and suddenly: silence. At best, she's faintly irritated.)

Nice to see some good, old-fashioned manners. I feel right at home.

( So much derision, and then the feed cuts. One can only imagine how much information she'll try to get out of that guy. )

_{( For once, Remy might actually be in his apartment. He's sitting on his bed, not in coat or costume but a simple cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's got a roll of cloth bandages, and is wrapping his hands methodologically. )}

Y'all really know how ta discuss, you know that? I'm very impressed.

_{( He's not, actually. He thinks the talking around such matters is a waste of time, and also a way to show the Initiative their hand. But he doesn't say so. )}

But I have ta say, all this bleak talk ain't really for me. Can't keep at it for very long. Désolé.

So, for those of you who care ta lighten the mood, here's a game. First player--that'd be me, I like ta deal--gives you a word. You say the first thing that comes ta your mind, after that. An' y'keep goin', over an' over, until someone cracks an' has ta ask the reasonin' behind your answer.

Whether y'tell 'em is up ta you.

_{( He laughs, to himself. )}

It's an option, anyways. If you don't wantta keep talkin' 'bout how unhappy y'all are.

_{( ooc / idk if this'll come up but if you want to threadjack and play with each other, i'm totally cool with that. )}

So.

[The haphazard mass of glass bottles covering this little worktop vary considerably in shape and size, but there's one thing all of them appear to have in common: the opaque white liquid visible inside them. If you squint, several of the bottles also have condensation running down the sides; they can't have been out of the fridge for that long. One of them, towards the front, is half empty, and therefore probably the most exciting thing on the scene.

But if you only had audio to go by, you could be forgiven for getting the impression that Ed just tied an unconscious puppy to some train tracks. He sounds like he's about five seconds away from hauling off and driving over it himself, too. It's a good thing he's not recording his face right now.]

Who wants some of these? C'mon, don't be shy - it's your lucky day. Plenty to go around. Unit 302. Offer ends soon. Just come up and take it.

[You might also notice that the fridge just off to the side still seems to be open. At least from this angle, it looks a little bare...]