Hi again, everyone.

Entertaining banter is much more fun when you have things to banter about. Period. I was hoping that I would be able to swing in and tell you something really interesting about the coordinates, and carefully craft it into some witty statement about my superhero identity. [There's a beat.] But uh, that's not happening today. Sorry.

The important bit is that I decoded it, and the message is coming from right where you guys went. No surprise, right? Well, here's the kicker, the AI, which, as we all know, is kind of outsourced from the UE, is asking one simple thing.

"Kill me."

So.

Yeah.

[The last few days have been repetitive, and they've also included adventures with Lokis. Plural. Downtime from that has generally included holing himself up and wondering why this is what his life has become. Hanging out with Lokis! Being the protective sort! Repetition. But the downtime also led to him trying to look into things. Barring having the proper instruments (and he does have some, he's started working on it), he's been looking at things from a different angle.

More specifically: he's been trying to figure out what's up with the AI. Time and space is definitely a million butterflies crushed right now, and that seems to be the obvious clue.

One he resolves it, he comes on and waves at everyone.][There's a beat as he figures out how to say this.]

Hi, everyone. I'm sure everyone's noticed the instability of things. I mean, unless you live under a rock. Is it warm under there? Did you nest and gather acorns? ... Okay, not why you're watching this.

I looked into the AI's transmissions. Which, well, I bet I'm not the only one, but I found that the transmissions are coming from Vandrova (that's the capital of the UE, for people under those cozy rocks) in the year 2742.

While I am not going to endorse time travel when time itself seems to be constantly flushing itself down the toilet, it might be a good idea to check it out.

There is a second part that I'm trying to decode right now, but it might be easier with more information on what's going on then.

[OOC information on this is here!!!]

[Oh hey, it's that Old Initiative tech guy again. He's … not quite looking as grumpy as he usually does, but something's obviously on his mind. He takes a few deep breaths, and then speaks up.]

… Alright. I'm…

[Lowell seems to have a bit of an internal struggle here, trying to find the right words, maybe?]

I've come to terms with it. I'm looking for five to seven Transports who are hardware-savvy. I'm going to have a week long tutorial on how to use the Transporter, just in case…

You know.

Anyway, might take a week, might take less than that. I know there's a few self-proclaimed geniuses out there. So… here's your opportunity.

[And then with very little ceremony, Lowell shuts off the video feed.]

[ It's been a while, huh? Normally Wayne -- Doug -- doesn't see the need to address people en mass, but, sometimes it's necessary. Unlike last time he isn't going to bother with fumbling text (fake lawyer, can't spell) so the video displays his very sleep-deprived-looking face and hair that's mussed from carelessly running a hand through it too many times. He in fact does it again without noticing as he adjusts the tablet, looking into the camera. ]

Hey. Hi there. This is Doug Rich again. Long time no... well you know how it goes. [ He cocks his head slightly in a cheekily impatient sort of shrug. ] Um-- so, I'm not sure how we've all been feeling these days, but not too long ago people were throwing around the idea of having some kind of code of conduct that we can all agree to... pay attention to. There aren't really laws and maybe it's not our biggest priority, but I think--

[ He blinks, train of thought momentarily derailed. He gestures circularly with his hand, trying to get it going again. ]

Uh-- I think it'd be useful. At least helpful. For... safety. Communities like this -- all over -- that's what they do. And usually they're smaller. Draft would need some work but everyone could vote on it, make sure it's fair. I've got-- [ But he cuts himself off, deciding that mentioning whatever first pass he's worked on isn't relevant yet. Might sound too eager or demanding or something, better to play it cool and passive. ] Um... yeah. That's it. I'll... we'll -- let me know about... we can talk later. More. More later.

[ Good conclusion. Good talk. ]

( OOC: With endgame on the horizon I haven't been sure the best way to proceed with this -- apologies -- but I've got an open log here for general CR follow-up/closure things in which I'm happy to put up a "code coordination" thread up in should people still be interested in having characters discuss ICly it on a not-one-on-one basis. Or if there's enough interest in a separate log I can put one of those together too. )

[ 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. ]

It doesn't look like this winter's going to go away anytime soon, so I've got a question.

Any advice on how to keep a cold-blooded person warm aside from bundling her up layers upon layers of clothes until she sinks in the snow from the sheer weight of it? I think she'll have trouble moving after a while too.

She'll probably be okay but she got really cold in a winter-based amusement park attraction once. It's worrying. ( ´△｀)

[LOCKED from momo kisaragi;]
That aside the real reason I'm posting this is because I have no idea how to celebrate people's birthdays but my sister's is coming up next month (not that I'm not worried about you, friend).

She's never had a birthday party with friends before so I kind of want to get something together? Any advice would be nice and if anyone's friends with a MOMO KISARAGI, that's her. Her birthday's next month, so if anybody can drop by once it's planned or chip in...

I don't have a place yet either so ideas or offers on that would be nice. [He'd ask Flora or Kido if they could do it at their place but if it's planned right under her nose, even Momo would notice...]

What marks the 'new year' depends on where you're from, though I guess the Gregorian calendar never really wore out it's popularity, from the looks of it. Just a little past the change in sunlight at the solstice - and that's always been more of a 'new year' to me, even if it doesn't match the calendar - and we've got a month or two to go before the lunar new year, though I don't know the calculation off hand.

But as we can mostly agree on this one - here's to surviving another year despite the challenges, and may the coming one be better than the last.

All right, I think I've finally found my way around this thing. And what better way to use it than broadcasting what I have so far of my newest work? I usually have Varric give my friend-fiction a quick read before I share it with anyone else, but I think this snippet is particularly fantastic. It's dedicated to a certain new sparring partner I ran into.

Settle down, everyone, Aunty Isabela's got a story for you all.

( Not explicit BUT NOT FOR GENERAL AUDIENCES EITHER. )

[Facilier has been busy since his fortuitous arrival a month ago. He's been keeping an eye on people, both on the tablet and off, quietly getting a feel for the place. People here won't be as easy to fleece as they were back in New Orleans, but it doesn't matter. If he plays it right, he has all the time in the world here to get his footing somewhere good. Now, he's aware he's going to have to do some advertising. Word of mouth is well and good, but he'd rather people know where to find him, should they be in need of his particular...services.

He still isn't used to using the tablet beyond its voice function. At least with that, he can pretend it's a telephone instead of some device that belongs in a moving picture. He's nothing if not a good salesman, though, and this time...this time he needs the video. The screen is static-y at first, the good doctor watching an unseen person trying to get the thing to work]

No, I don't think throwing it at the wall will help.

[Oh. There we go. Facilier offers the camera a wide smile, as his shadow floats from somewhere off screen to hover beside him]

Bonjou and good day, fellow Transports! I'm still fairly new here, and figure it's about time I introduce myself. [A flamboyant bow to the camera, this thing better be working] Doctor Facilier, at your most humble service. I would have introduced myself sooner, but I've been busy establishing myself in this new little 'ol world of ours.

[The shadow moves offscreen again and suddenly the tablet is floating about in mid-air, showing off the little one-room home that Facilier has converted into his Emporium.]

So if any of y'all are in need of potions, charms, or even have your future read, don't you ever hesitate to come find me. [A piece of paper with a scrawled address hovers in front of the screen for a few moments, before it and the tablet are put back down to face Facilier once more]

After all, I'm real interested in helping y'all out. That's what this should all be about, right? Givin' each other a hand while we deal with all this other mess concerning the United Earth and what have you. I'd hate to sit back with my particular talents and not have them be of some use to the folk living here.

[One more friendly smile for good measure] So I hope to be seein' some of you soon.

[The video feed this morning has multiple purposes. Initially it was a simple test, to see if the illusion he'd cast broadcast to the network. It failed, instead, showing a young looking man sitting in the Observation Deck on the moon, face half obscured by his fan. But mostly, this is for information. His tone is arrogant and movements slow and measured.]

I wish to pose two queries to thee.

Firstly, I wish to know what of the enemy thou hast unearthed below. I hath read accounts of war and organization, accounts of those of less human appearance treated within the tenants of fear. Leaving aside such debates upon the validity and consequence of tampering with what hath passed in the mires of one's regret and defeat, tis a great number of conversations upon the future and past, but a dearth of those of the present. I assume such, that thine situation remains bleak, and that the project vile and untoward may have continued... But little of the new face of our enemy.

This world, which hath changed so wild and bitterly from the squalor and civilization it had boasted... do we still have a capable enemy who still strikes at our worlds afar? What sayeth the people below?

Tis true, to attack boldly is suicide. Tis true, spying without knowledge as a guard is suicide. However tis true, to jab wildly at the past at an enemy we dost not understand ... tis foolishness and absurdity. Tis possible we may not have a war that concerns us.

Corrections of this, these assumptions, art most welcome.

[He pauses, folding his fan to tap it at his chin.]

Secondly, tis thus: I desire to speak with one most practiced in the art or pedagogy of science. I hath researched soundly the foundational elements and request to employ an expert in 'chemistry' and 'genetics.'


(OOC NOTE: Rufus Barma is a ridiculous creature who speaks in deliberately archaic mannerisms! BUT, if OOCLY you'd like a plain English version, just mention it in the subject line!)

[There are some things you can't run from. For Peter, he's been trying to run, but things keep coming up, keep reminding him. He went a good month of pretending that he was just a normal guy who made it out of his world alive. It was a good lie. Even for those people who knew him as Spider-Man, no one needed to know that his final moments in his life were spent saving Aunt May. They didn't need to know that he had given his all and that he was actually happy with what he managed.

But there's dying. And then there's finding out you aren't dead. There's finding out that you have a whole new life, and that somewhere, in another dimension, a "you" managed to grow up. Sue knew him. Bucky knew him. Even that grumpy Nathan guy knew a Spider-Man. And for all that, he's been trying to make it less obvious that he's surprised that he grew up. It's been hard, and he knows it'll continue.

It has to, after all. With great power and all that, and this world has bigger problems than his.

But still, he sets out to ask this question, because he knows it's better to ask now than later. He had to be careful about what thing he said to Charlie that one day. When he phrases his question, he rereads it a couple times, taking out anything that sounds too much like him. The last thing Peter needs is someone tracing it back to him.

He's not ready for those conversations.]

I've got a question, but first, please don't try to trace this back to me. If you've already done that and broken my encryption, let's just pretend you didn't. [Also, you're a jerk, but he had to cut that part out. Too ... him.]

What happens if you died before you came here? What's left for me after this all ends? Before you ask, yeah, I definitely died.

I just thought I'd ask.

[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. )

[ when the feed flicks on, it’s to the simple image of a sharply dressed man adjusting his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. or rather, it’s the lens glare that strikes the view first, a flash of blue that obscures the friendly(?) way he eyes the viewer, the practiced way he smiles. ]

My apologies. [ the tone, too, is terribly kept, composed and precise. ] If I may, I kindly request that you lend me your brief attention for but a few minutes of your time.

First, allow me to introduce myself: I am Munakata Reishi. You will have to forgive me, I’m afraid, as my recent arrival will mean my lines of inquiry will run along the road of repetition.

[ it’s formality and ease in idle, clear-cut motions; he laces his fingers together and rests them neatly on the table set before him. his smile hasn’t moved. ]

There is, I understand, a . . . certain freedom to living in the time before we are called to action. Training is -- was mandatory, was it not? I don't suppose all of you have been keeping up with your weekly regimen during this temporary state of confusion.

But I digress.

Let me cut straight to the chase, then.

Certain concerns come to mind. Minimal organization though we may have, I admit I’m rather lost. [ there’s a breath of laughter, possibly meant to curb the tension… not to create it. ] With so many people in a state of little to no enforcement, is it safe there on Earth, I wonder?

. . . And what kind of activities, pray tell, have you found to be the most beneficial use of your undoubtedly limitless spare time?

( PRIVATE; TO SARUHIKO FUSHIMI: )

[Gale takes a hold of his communication device as soon as the woman who greeted him is gone and scrolls through the "Introduction" app quickly before bringing up a video stream. His face is as emotionless as ever, but his voice is terse.]

My assumption is that this video is streaming to other devices of this kind.

My name is Gale, of Tribe Embryon.

I was given an adequate explanation as to why I am here. However, I was not given an explanation as to the cause of my being here, and I request information from others who may know. In all of these documents left on this device there is no file or volume detailing the how.

[The foggy memories of his comrades and their final battle aren't new to him. He only wonders why his body hasn't changed this time. Same clothes, same face. He can even feel the Atma Virus still running through his veins.]

This situation is neither uncommon nor strange to me, it is simply the means that remains illogical.

[And, perhaps as an afterthought;]

If there are any of Tribe Embryon present here, ...please respond promptly.

So another month, another batch of poor lost souls that are wondering what did they do to deserve this fate. Kinda sucks huh? At least we're going back down, although apparently we're not in Kansas anymore.

[ Here she takes a moment to take a little breath. ]

I mean, we weren't in Kansas to begin with, but hopefully at least half of you will get the reference, or I'll be a very sad Ella. While we're on introductions though, this is Ella Ellis speaking, Doer of Things, Helper of the Needy, God of Awesome. I also make a mean mac & cheese, by the way.

[ At least she's grown comfortable talking through the tablet? Is that even a good thing? ]

Anyway, I plan to remain in the Moon Base until the twentieth or so, so if anyone around needs something done, let me know. For the new kids that means I can make most things out of thin air, and I'm being rather literal here. For the old folks, well, you either believe me by now or you don't.

[ Ella then proceeds to drum on the tablet's surface for a solid minute. ]

Oh, I almost forgot: How do you guys celebrate Christmas? Hanukkah? The equivalent I'm obviously missing? I thought it would be cool to make pines or seeds to grow and plant them somewhere, but then I realized not everyone might know about it. Then it hit me that me being me, this should probably freak me out in so many levels you don't even know, but if you don't mention the whole religious implications, I sure won't.

Anyway, I'm out of things to say. Stay safe, stay sane, and always wash your hands after using the toilet.

Ella out~

[The voice that comes through is clear, concise, and well-practiced. There's a slight metallic flange to it, matching the robotic life form it belonged to.]

Terror is not an entirely unexpected response at seeing a one of my kind, but you need not fear me if you offer your guests proper respect. I hail from the planet Cybertron, and my name is Nova Prime.

I have been informed that you are in need of guidance and defense from a force that's consumed most of this world, and have agreed to assist on your behalf. I can lend my experience in governance and war where I am truly needed.

[He'll be playing nice. For the time being.]

Any Cybertronian that is also trapped on this planet can contact this device, so we may properly acquaint.

[Rocket was pretty much convinced this was some sort of mess up. His passport must have screwed up and he'd ended up across the galaxy or something.

Because what other explanation was there?

Sure he'd been told what this place and he'd been given his 'welcome' items, or whatever you wanted to call them but no. It was a joke. A weird joke.

Wouldn't be the first time he'd ended up on a strange planet.

....Right?]

Ignoring that explanation I was given that I really don't feel too flarkin' inclined to believe, anyone want to tell me what's going on?

[He finally activated the communicator he'd been given, his ears laying back slightly as his tail flicks about irritably.]

Where am I and how do I get out of here? I don't have time for this.

[ 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.

[Peter is ... angry. Angry is a good word for it, because he's mixed up, he's confused, and he's hating that he's hearing what's going on. Threats of torture? Maybe they were said in anger—and he's definitely done stupid things in anger himself—but that's not helping. But all he's seeing is a weird understanding that maybe SHIELD had the right idea by taking the reins back home, because this is what happens when people are left to their own devices.

Then again, SHIELD isn't really good at keeping the psychologically unstable types off the street. He knows that all too well, too. SHIELD also probably doesn't give a damn if people are infighting as long as they've got buttons to push and to control in the process.

He debates responding to Sofiya's commentary instead, but he has some sweeping questions that need to be answered.]

Have any of you ever read Lord of the Flies? Or ... I dunno, Battle Royale? The really terrifying thing about these books is the idea of humans going out and hunting one another. That we're a game. There was a guy on TV a year or so ago who decided he was gonna go after Spider-Man. It was stupid, but he thought that he'd make big ratings because he'd be able to take down this guy that everyone was calling a masked menace. Of course, as you should know right up front, Spider-Man's a good guy. Not a good guy as in let's-all-be-friends-with-Spider-Man, but he definitely isn't out there to hurt anyone, he's just wearing the mask for a reason ... he's a vigilante, but not the type that hurts people to prove something. Or kills. None of that. No bullets, no necks snapped, none of it.

[There's a pause where he breathes out, because that was a lot of quick babbling with very few pauses.]

If you can't make the connection from my well-placed pop culture references or my babbling about Spider-Man, what I'm seeing here is a lot of infighting. People are hurting each other and disagreeing over how we're meant to do this. People are talking about the law, but honestly, what law? We're locking people up because it's generally what is deemed the right thing, but none of us really know what we're doing. I mean, I've seem some crappy cops in my time, and believe me. You guys need some work.

Uh, but no offense, because I'm not here to criticize everyone. That's just gonna create even more infighting amongst us.

But I do think that all of us sitting down and agreeing we're in over our heads is a good place to start. Got it. You sitting yet? Actually, I bet you're turning this off, which fine, suit yourself.

What's happening is that we're going all Lord of the Flies on one another. We're going all rated-R Survivor to ensure that none of us get off this moonbase alive. And above all else, we're being idiots and making this about ourselves. Okay, I don't doubt that the release of those files might be some well-timed emotional manipulation, and I'm a bleeding heart who gives in to that crap. I can't deny it.

And maybe things will stop, but all I see is us redirecting our tensions elsewhere, and honestly, I ... I don't want people to die. I don't want any of that sort of thing to happen. That's my thing. I helped out with the guys who were trying to undo the mutiny's mess because I saw that as a danger to everyone's life. But I think moving forward, we need to try to be a little less Lord of the Flies and a little more boy band.

Don't get what I mean?

Come on, just look at the Backstreet Boys. I bet anything those guys didn't get together all that willingly. But they all stand together in uncomfortable leather pants and continue to sing terrible songs even though they're definitely nearing fifty. They're outliving The Beatles! Except one of the guys left, but that really says something about situations like that. It leaves room for imperfection.

So we can all band together and get really stupid haircuts and manicures and wear leather pants and ...

My point is, can we try to work together a little more? Just maybe? And instead of remarking on all of the above, let's hear some suggestions moving forward. You might think it's not the time, but I'd rather stop this from escalating.

Ah, hello. I'm um, honestly not sure if this is the right time for this sort of thing, but I just received a message. I don't know who sent it, but it sounds like someone wrote this letter right before...

...well, before we all arrived here.

I can share it with whoever would like to read it, and I don't know if there's a lot more messages like this. I just don't think it'd be fair if I kept it to myself.

[And for any character who wants it, Carol will send them the Samir Renner memoir!]

[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: )

—Uh, hey!

[Peter waves at the camera. He looks like he has it on the wrong level, and then he fixes it to not be looking mostly at his mid-eyes until he looks better, much better, without a camera giving everyone a near immediate relationship with his nose and mouth and probably pores. Look, he can accomplish things.]

—Sorry about that. And whatever you might've seen instead for a moment. I'm looking for a lab, and I'd say "hypothetically, say a guy is looking for a lab of all his own," but really, I need a lab to conduct some experiments. I promise I'm not planning to blow up any showers or the kitchen or anything like that, I—I generally avoid fires. Generally. [Except that one time in chemistry, but he's much more graceful now.] It's just that I'm used to having a lab of all my own, and I've checked the map a few times, and ... well—I don't wanna assume, you know, that I've got access to that.

[It's only now that he realizes that he should've gone for upgraded webshooters, but he didn't really want to ditch what Tony Stark gave him. They're from Tony Stark! They were a birthday present from Tony Stark.]

And this also came up with a buddy ... a pal ... you know, a new guy here, who's new like me, that maybe we should come up with a way to track the disturbances in the—[Force. Don't be a nerd, Parker.]—in the way things are here. Has anyone tried that yet?

Oh, and I'm Peter Parker. Yeah, I'm a nerd. You guessed it. But what can I say? I managed a lab in my own room back home, I can't go without here. Especially here.

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. ]

[ He makes the bother to speak in Basic (which is really English except maybe accented weirdly, who knows) but cuts right to it and doesn't betray his own thoughts on the matter. ]

How are we certain the Initiative is the right side to fight for?

((ooc: oh, also. permissions))

[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

A coupla days ago, someone tried to blame a missing grenade on a cat playing with it like a ball of yarn. I don't think I'm too far off questioning their sanity, am I?

[The answer is 'no'. He's more or less posting this to be a troll. He thinks by now everyone knows where that missing grenade is... or where it was used if it happened to be used.]

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.