[This query brought to you by a pretty handful of missing puzzle pieces, not that you'd know, since Lenalee has no intent to justify or explain that imagery, nor to keep picking at scabs until they fester.]

We've already seen how the smallest change made can rewrite the entire history of this world. People are unborn, warheads are undropped... because we've cut out the circumstances which led to their happening.

How do you think that it might be the same for us? Transports come and go so often here and no one knows why. Whatever we do, we are always altering chances, there is no reason not to consider they could also be our own. That someone arrived on a day no longer existing may suddenly leave, or return by new circumstance, or forget they were ever here before.

It may be that we don't "go home", just. "Never arrive".

[ about ten minutes after broadcast, through careful squinting and experimentation, the feed is locked from Gilbert Nightray ]

[ bright and early, splayed on the network feed in somewhat old-timey poster fashion: ]

IMMEDIATE HELP WANTED

with the

Refurbishment and Construction

of

Shelters and Outposts

for purposes including but not limited to

Accommodation, Assembly, Defense, Medical Aid, Technical Support, Supply Reserves, Agriculture

and other prospective services to Transports and other associates.

All forms of assistance and input welcome and encouraged

including but not limited to technical aid, general labor, delivery and supply, security, liaison with third parties, and crew support.

Inquire in this post for further details.

----

( video version, within the same post )

(( OOC: APOLOGIES FOR THE SLOWDOWN IN REPLIES I'll get to everyone's as soon as I can ))

[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!)

[Video]

[It is a very solemn Giovanni who addresses everyone today. Maybe it’s due to the cold which, admittedly was a problem that even an extra wrap could not quite solve, but more likely it was due to the book on Renaissance history that was sitting open faced on his lap. He had finally found the time to read the book he had traded Cat (a.k.a. Arya Stark) for and the manuscript held a grim glimpse into the future. ]

We are brought here, told that changing the past is the way to correct the future but I find myself wondering if that is true. Has anything that has been done really been for the best? Those who were native in Exsilium before our arrival have been nearly entirely wiped from history. Instead of correcting the troubles with these ‘nuclear bombs’ we have only plunged the planet into a deep cold. Now we are told we must do more of these missions to gather supplies and correct these new problems. Does it ever end?

I wonder how many of you agree with this. Is changing the past in this manner something you feel is right?

[His voice took on an even softer tone as he thought back on what he had read. ]

What would you do if you had future knowledge of a terrible event? Would you journey to the past to stop it from happening or would you be too concerned it might cause something even worse to occur?

Yodelehee yodelehee yodele hee hoooooo~!

[ It's a cozy tableau: Xerxes Break is sprawled sideways on a plush, overstuffed sofa, drinking hot chocolate out of a teacup. Seated beside him is a "woman of a certain age," once beautiful in her day, probably, and even now could be called "handsome." She is primly and respectably dressed, unlike the gaggle of young ladies (and a few men) clustered around the form of one (1) Gilbert Nightray, backed up against a wall, red-faced and cringing. While Break looks entirely at ease in this situation, Gilbert can only be described as scandalized. The sweater he’s wearing with the giant reindeer on it probably doesn’t help. ]

Has anybody ever been to Switzerland? Lovely place, excellent fondue, and the singing!

[ Break yodels some more. He has a high, breathy voice, and difficulty keeping a tune even at the best of times, so this is a particularly vicious form of vocal villainy. His handsome companion giggles into her cup, whilst Gilbert ducks his head and holds his ears. ]

The Swiss also make terribly good clothing for clambering up mountains, of which they seem to have a great many.

[ "Advanced nano-engineering" is what the Mammut retailer had told him, making their technical clothing light, automatically formfitting (one size really does fit all), impervious to the elements, and able to keep the wearer's body comfortably warm, even in the most extreme, frigid temperatures. ]

Anyway, I've got a few of these left over, with which I might be persuaded to part.

[ He produces a small bundle, hardly larger than a deck of cards, and gives it a shake. It puffs out into a snow suit with an attached hood and gloves, clearly a wonder of late 27th century technology. Unfortunately, late 27th century fashion was to emulate 1980's ski wear. ]

With that in mind, I have some information that might be interesting to those of you who haven't yet found suitable accommodation. My esteemed hostess [ a nod to the respectable lady seated beside him ] has been telling me about an enormous castle, half-buried under the snow. In addition to housing a number of works of art, it was also once used as a hotel, apparently. Thus it occurs to me that, with a bit of, ah, sprucing up, it might serve as a place for us Transports to stay, without having to impose on anybody's hospitality.

[ He pauses, frowning. Somewhere off camera, a baritone voice is pleading about something regarding sin and God and exciting underwear. ]

….which is, alas, all too easy to wear out. [ He leans over the back of the sofa calling: ] I think that's quite enough, Mister Cecil~!

(ooc: Break, Gilbert, Kevin, and others have found temporary shelter in a cathouse bordello. Responses will be from some assortment of the above. Actionspam and threadjacking welcome.)

( 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! )

[The video snaps on showing an unusually contrite expression on Rosette's face. Or perhaps it's a bit more sheepish and nervous. EITHER WAY. It's not the normal bluster you may know her for.]

OKAY! So.

[A pause.]

There might have been a freak accident involving a zombie tearing open one of the walls in the shower room and those are completely closed off right now. I guess you can't get in at all, but I wouldn't try either.






...




[After some thought.]

We... probably need some mechanics. With space suits. before everyone stinks


((OOC: So yes, Rosette used a grenade inside a space station. TOTALLY FREAK ACCIDENT, and there is now a hand sized hole in the outer wall of the showers. AI has already locked the area down so there's no way to get to it from the inside to preserve the rest of the base from damage.))

[Gently:] Good morning, Exsilium.

[It almost sounds like a reminder.

Saul's looking just as businesslike as he did in his last network post, this time broadcasting from the Observatory. Elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, he leans in and addresses the camera with an expression that's a little too somber to pass for neutral:]

As of last night, Medusa's gone home.

[He hopes that's where she's gone, anyway. He's never sure what happens to people after they disappear.

After a moment, the look on his face softens.]

For the time being, I've assumed the role of Director of the Department of Initiative-Transport Relations. Medusa and I started this together back in May, when its purpose was to foster trust between us and the Initiative by way of hiring liaisons to make announcements on the Initiative's behalf. Friendly faces, right?

But it's clear to me now that there's no use for that in our current predicament, so the Department's getting a bit of a makeover.

( First of all... )

[There's a pause, then, as he runs a hand through his hair to move onto other business.]

( As far as supply runs are concerned... )

[And the feed cuts.]

[The last time Saul was seen on the network, he was about to choke out a member of the Initiative.

He's calmed down since then.

In fact, the look with which he greets the network is positively cheerful, thought not so much that it takes away from the businesslike atmosphere he's trying to cultivate with this post — he's got work to do, damn it, so he's in the most official-looking room he could find, seated in front of the camera with folded hands. Suit: check, tie: check, pocket square: check.]

This isn't how the story goes, but: good morning, Moon.

For those of you who don't know me, the name's Saul Goodman. I work for the Department of Initiative-Transport Relations with the lovely Queen Medusalith Amaquelin-Boltagon — [He pauses to smirk. What a mouthful, right?] — and a whole slew of other equally lovely folks. We're here to help you in matters concerning Initiative-Transport goings on. Now, here I'd usually take the opportunity to ask you all to lay whatever questions you might have on me, but because things are so crazy right now, the best answer I can give to any question will probably be a confident "I don't know."

We'll update you as we're updated.

Anyway, I'm coming to you today with a request. Lots of people are gearing up to go on supply runs, which is great. Go team. If those of you who've gone on runs already or plan to go could check in with me here and let me know what it is you're bringing back, that'd be super helpful. I'll make a list that everyone can refer back to, so no one has to double-up on fetching supplies that might not be necessary.

[So he might be a little bit worried about the lack of resurrection technology. That might be a thing. He just doesn't want anyone taking unnecessary risks for the sake of DVDs or... or whatever.]

Thanks.

[ the video opens on a table, spread with long cards, most of them face-down. the one showing is xvi, the tower. the camera pans out, a little jittery, to show physis sitting at her card table, turned to the side in agitation. blue is knelt on the floor beside her, glancing up at her with concern.

it was almost like it's all happening again, but this time she can't be quiet about it. she doesn't know the initiative as well, she can't really trust their efficiency in the face of something like this. the mu were always mobile, the moment they knew their location was compromised, they would find another one. that wasn't the case in exsilium, and the warning was necessary. ]

To those who don't know me, my name is Physis. I have the [ gift? not hardly. ] ability of foresight, clairvoyance.

We've made ourselves known, acted openly against our enemy, and they are preparing to make a retaliation. We are to be an example of how they retain their power, I have seen it.

Does anyone know what the Black Code entails?

[It's early Wednesday morning when a new video message turns up on the network. The nun seems to have none of her usual energy and the bags under her eyes are fairly pronounced. Flynn and Fluffy have likely put up with her pacing almost incessantly since dinner time last night, and even now she fidgets in her seat, fingers playing with an ornamental looking watch hanging at her neck.]

Has anyone seen Chrono? Short, grumpy, purple hair. He's usually with me.

... He might have been in some kind of fight, so I'll take anything. Or anyone to help me look.

[Lily's still nervous, even after discovering that she's free of that underground facility. Not only does she not know what happened to her fellow test subjects, but it's a big change, and there will still be fighting. Will she accidentally hurt someone? She hopes not. She flips on the video feed. There are two things worth noting about the young girl's features. The first is that her eyes are yellow. Perhaps the most notable, however, is the metal collar around her neck. It doesn't look like jewelry.]

I just have a question for everyone. What do you do to relax when you're scared or upset?

[She doesn't want to mention the extent of her problems, but she shouldn't lie either. So she just won't say anything if she's not comfortable talking about it, or she'll change the subject. That usually works for her.]

This place is very different than what I'm used to, so I'd really appreciate any suggestions. Oh! And I'm also looking for flowers. The place I lived in didn't have any, and I've always wanted to smell real flowers. Thank you for your time.

[When the video begins, two girls appear, one blond and one brunette, with identical faces. The blond leans in close, voice loud and clearly attention-seeking.]

Hey, all of you! We have something to say, so listen up.

[She nods to the other girl, and lets her take over from there. Not that the wheelchair-bound girl seems all that pleased with her companion’s rudeness, but the awkward smile fades quickly to a neutral look.]

Please, this will only take a moment of your time, I assure you. My name is Nunnally vi Britannia, student, from 2018 a.t.b. era of the planet Earth. [Pausing.]

And I’m Nemo. You can call me Nunnally’s sworn knight. [Shrugging off that subtle attempt at chiding, Nemo introduces herself quickly, eager to get this part done with. She doesn’t much care for introductions, and it’s obvious in the tone of her voice.]

Yes, my knight. [Her voice picks up at the word as do the rest of her features. Having a strong knight is important for a student.] We are both very pleased to meet your acquaintance and look forward to providing aid where we can. After being told there are a number of objectives that can be completed for the Initiative through these missions, who am I to deny them that? So for those of you who are experienced in these tasks…

[With a grin, the second girl cuts in yet again.] We want to know all about it! How we get on them, what objectives you carry out, the works. And how does the Initiative feel about taking souvenirs from our missions?

You can’t ask them if we’re allowed to steal on an important world-changing mission!

(OOC: Nemo is red, Nunnally is purple, and both will be responding with their own tablets.)

[Well, this is certainly a very shaky view of Kevin’s old fashioned dress shoes. And hey, now what seems like a thumb has blocked the camera. ]

…Hm? Oh! Is it working?

[He shakes the tablet, apparently under the impression that kinetic energy might help it function a little better. The sad truth is that it doesn't.]

Ah, I-I hope so. Hm, sir? Madam? My name is Kevin Cecil, and it recently came to my attention that now I can…heal minor afflictions and illnesses of different natures. If I can be of any assistance, do not hesitate to contact me. I’m currently at…Oh dear Lord, is that St Paul’s?!

[ Baaa Baa-aa-aaaaaa Baaaaaaaaaaa! ]

I say, hello, hel-looooo! I have a question for you all--

[ The grime-smeared face of Xerxes Break appears onscreen. His white hair is discolored with dust and stuck together. There's a semicircular wound under his right cheekbone, and the shoulder of his jacket looks chewed. Despite all of this, he seems terribly pleased with himself. ]

Does anyone here have qualifications in animal husbandry?

[ More angry bleating and a yelp! Break turns. Visible in the background is another (also dirty and disheveled) man, desperately fending off a sheep. It’s not going at all according to plan; with a single headbutt he’s out of the camera’s line of sight, followed by a thud and worrisome tinkling noises. ]

Why, Gilbert. I think she likes you! ♥

[ Moving right along... ]

Anyway - yes. I'm looking specifically for people with experience or interest in shepherding, as well as shearing, spinning, knitting, cheese-making--

[ Another CRASH! and a voice yelling, “Break, look out!" ]

--and hand-to-hand combat! Kindly respond to this post, or apply in person to the botanical gar--

[ Break’s face suddenly disappears. The last image visible onscreen is… this. ]

I, the elegant and glamorous Dist, the Rose have arrived here from my home planet, to grace this savage place with my presence.

[He sits back in his chair. It's not as comfy at the one back home. He'd have to remedy that.]

Though I am a genius, and my work is unparalleled, I do have a small question for you. How many of you are not entirely ignorant about technology? How many have constructed something with their own hands?

Additionally, where might one find the gardens?

Mmm, don't be shy, now.

[The video flickers on upside-down for a moment before Spike flips it over after a little squinting. He looks pretty annoyed, slightly tired, and sort of disappointed with everything in general.]

Alright. I have a little question for you all, in case anyone knows for sure.

Does the sun in this godforsaken place ever come fully out at all? I hope it does. Because if this is really a whole new world, then I've finally found a place where the sun doesn't immediately set me on fire if I step into it. Or that's how it should work, anyway, I think. But then if it turns out that the sun barely shows up anyway... what good does that do?

[He makes a disgusted sound and waves a hand.] That would really make my day, wouldn't it. If it honestly is just all rain and gloom every day, that's another thing to strike out while I'm searching for one single redeeming quality that this bloody place has. That search is getting old very quickly, as a side-note.

Anyone have an answer?

[Sorry, guys. She's one of those newbies.]

For God's sake. Really? This has got to be a first. Do these people even know who they're taking in? What am I even going to do here? I'm just a radio host back home, not - whatever you think I am.

[She is no soldier worth kidnapping, no, not at all, thank you very much.]

I can't do this.

I won't do this.

[Look. She's even throwing in a pause to show how serious she is.]

Besides, Fred wouldn't begin to know what to do without me. My fiancé? I have a life back home, you know, and it can't wait. So - you ought to put me back. As soon as possible, if that's not too much trouble.

[She has spoken. ... Then she starts to press random buttons because what am this technology.]

... Hello? Can anyone hear me?

[...

beep beep beep]

[ Effie clears her throat. Taps the microphone. Puts on her best smile even though nobody can see it and parts her rouged lips to speak in that designer Capitol accent.

She is a woman on a mission and for once it isn't entirely selfish. ]

Attention.

Attention everyone.

Thank you.

There has been some concern as of late regarding the lack of feminine necessities available to the recruited ladies of this establishment. I have taken it upon myself to run a charitable drive for distribution of these items to any person who requires them.

We would be delighted to accept your generous donation of fine fabrics and aesthetic materials such as powder or perfume that could contribute towards a woman's well-being.

Please note, gentlemen, that this effort is as much for your sake as it is for ours, and on behalf of the ladies in Exsilium we appreciate your cooperation in advance.

[The voice on the other side of the tablet is young and vaguely male, and a little hesitant. Despite being here for months, this is is the first time he's actually tried posting to the network himself, and addressing a sizable, unseen audience, live, is somehow daunting. . . But he knows he needs to find someone, sooner rather than later, so:]

Er. Good afternoon! I'm wondering... if there is anyone here who is skilled with a sword, who would be willing to help train a beginner? I've a few months' practice already. And I don't require formal lessons, but I would appreciate a sparring partner. [ a pause, he clears his throat ]

But, if preferred, I could provide compensation for lessons...

[Though he'd rather not, it seems only prudent to offer. —And oh, right:]

Right, also, my sword is— a bit broad. And tall. And held with one hand? I don't know if that matters!

[He knows for a fact there are talented swordsmen here. One in particular comes to mind immediately, but he's not going to just ask him. And there's one or two others he could possibly wheedle lessons out of, but isn't it best to cast a wide net?

He's about to end the feed there, when he remembers one last thing: ]

And if it's all right, I have a question for those who use one of the Initiative's sentient weapons. ...How long did you train with it before it began to 'evolve'? Were the changes very drastic?

Thank you very much!

[Shortly after Rin's post a video feed opens on the network, apparently being made from the same location she was in, since the camera doesn't show the person making the video, rather the camera is on Rin in the distance, who doesn't appear to be aware she's being watched.]

Hello? Ah, this thing on? Yeah, it is - good!

[A definite male voice, cheerful but sounding just that bit sly.]

I'm afraid ya' may have just seen my student tryin' to skive off of her lessons by startin' up a few conversations with most of you in the middle of a training session. She's a real lazy, ungrateful type, y'know? So try not to enable 'er by respondin'.

[There's a slight pause, before the voice sighs to itself lightheartedly.]

Kids these days, huh?

[Suddenly the camera feed rapidly closes in on Rin, though the video feed shuts off just before it gets her.]

[Good morning, Exsilium! Rin Asano is cold, wet, hungry and irate this rainy Monday morning. Read on to find out why!

In a voice of pure seethe:]

You know we have some absolutely crazy people running around here? Not on medicine or anything or kept track of, no, well just running around.

Well you know who the very worst of them is? His name’s Gin Ichimaru, he’s this snaky, venomous, pallid, scrawny guy with white hair, and he’s a public menace, I’m not even kidding.

He’s a public menace! [Restated for emphasis.] That’s why you should come down to the hold, right now, and you should come and find him and – OHHH MY GOD AHHH –

[The splashing of footsteps as Rin books it, heard only briefly before she mashes the “mute” button on her communicator.]

[The image first shows an open book lying on a table. It seems to be open at the very back, though looking at the page on the left would show that it's full of text so it obviously was supposed to continue where the cover now is. Closer observation would show that several pages after that one were apparently ripped out.

It stays on this image for several moments, or at least what the person showing it thinks is long enough for said observations to be made. Finally, the screen does a very quick 180 to show a livid Elliot.]

WHO IS THE CRIMINAL RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!

Library books are the property of EVERYONE WHO USES THAT LIBRARY! YOU CAN'T JUST TEAR OUT PAGES WHEREVER YOU SEE FIT! IT'S COMMON COURTESY!

ESPECIALLY NOT IN THE FINAL BOOK OF ONE OF THE GREATEST SERIES EVER WRITTEN!!!

[The feed comes on to one of the sectioned-off areas of the temporary housing area, more specifically to a cot carefully made and covered with a plastic sheet. Atop the sheer is a collection of plants in various containers, mostly stereotypical pots made of plastic plastic or unglazed ceramic, though there's at least two or three deep cereal bowls for smaller plants and a paint bucket barely in frame. These are very clearly mostly tomato plants, from the small red shapes spotting them here and there.

Finally, a slight redhead enters the frame, fidgeting with her coat nervously.]

Um, hello! My name is Tsubomi Hanasaki--I'm new. It's nice to meet you all! I'm here to talk about plants!

[She lifts the closest pot with any reddening tomatoes, leaning closer to properly show it to the feed.] I've been growing some vegetables. Mostly tomatoes, and I'm waiting on some carrots. Anyway, after some trial and error, I think I've figured out how to grow tomatoes indoors, if anyone wants a plant! There are... a lot here... [She gestures to the pots on the cot.] They need a couple of lamps and some water, and all I ask in return is letting me look at it sometimes! You can keep all the tomatoes, and everything. So if you want to come to the Hold and pick one up, ask around for me! Or I can come to you! I have about twenty, but I'm planting new ones every day, and as soon as they've taken root I'd be happy to give them away. [The power of magic, to get these plants started!]

[She looks uncertain for a moment, and then takes a deep, visible breath.]

Thank you for your time!

[She bows, and goes to turn the video off, only for it to go tumbling from whatever she had it perched on with a rough clatter. Tsubomi's concerned expression fills the feed just before it turns off.]

[Action is open to other people in temp housing or anyone who wants to come by and pick up a plant!]

[The feed clicks on to a very somber-looking Rita. She opens her mouth to say something, but shakes her head, remaining silent for several more seconds. Eventually, she sighs and starts:]

I'm... not that good with stuff like this. I've been avoiding people for the last few weeks because I didn't want to deal with it, and I know now's not really a good time, what with all the new people. But... there's no way around it now.

[She looks right at the camera, and if you're looking closely, it's like her eyes are... out of focus. Is something wrong?]

I can't really see anymore, after I got too close to a bomb few weeks back. Anything really close, I can work with - I can still use this thing, at least. But anything much further than that, it gets blurry real quick, and at distances it's like nothing stands still. So... I'm pretty much useless for what I'm good at, right now. I'm not really... coping with it very well, and I'm trying to figure out what the hell I'll be good for like this. Maybe research, I guess, or spellwork. But I don't think I can fight like this. Before anyone asks, I tried glasses; they almost worked for a minute or three, until I got a horrible headache I couldn't function through. So that's a thing. Uh... so, I guess I'm looking for work that doesn't require me to actually be able to function.

[A long moment passes, the girl having a look of being totally lost for a second, before Rita throws up her hands, reaching to stop the video feed.]

I don't even know why I did this. Dammit.

[The screen turns on to show a young man clad in a cape and suit. He gives a friendly smile.]

Good eve--

[A loud explosion comes from a neighboring room. The smile instantly fades away to a disgruntled look as he sighs.]

Let's try this again. Good evenin--

[Another explosion. He sets the tablet in his lap and sets one of his cheeks in his hand, his other drumming on the tablet in irritation.]

You know, it might have actually been quieter in the courtyard than it is here. [He sighs.] Might as well get to the point, since I can't seem to even get out the pleasantries. If anybody from the Vongola or allied families are here, please let me know. And if you could, get me out of this gymnasi--

[And then there's a really loud explosion. The room shakes a little.]

You know, I've half a mind to go and tell whoever is doing that that training is not the equivalent of trying to destroy the structure you're currently inside.

[Oh, wait. Did he talk about the Mafia over public network? Damnit. Bad habit from his late tutor. Oh well, not much to be done for it now.]

That aside-- I wouldn't suppose someone would be looking for a roommate, in case none of my friends are here? I can't say I'm much good at cooking, but I could help with other chores, at least. ... and paperwork, I guess, if you need someone to slap signatures all over for some reason. It wouldn't have to be a permanent arrangement, just until I'm able to afford my own place. Or until housing in the apartments opens up, I suppose.

... whoever was making explosions just now sure did get quiet, didn't they? [He looks thoughtfully toward the wall.] Hopefully they didn't blow themselves up. Bombers have a tendency to do that in my experience. [And then back at the tablet. He nods.] Thank you for your time. [And then he cuts the feed.]

[ Ever since that brief meeting within the courtyard, several questions plagued Cao Cao's mind. He had hoped to find the information on his own with the Initiative's help, but they weren't very...helpful in his opinion. Besides the whole notion of them using sorcery to unravel the United Earth's influences through a series of smaller skirmishes, Cao Cao wasn't certain as of how this war could possibly be won. From what little he's managed to understand, the enemy outnumbers them greatly and there's great dissent amongst the transports here.

Still trying to understand his role in all this, the King of Wei decided to act. He never used such a device before. These "tablets" as they call them were nearly two-thousand years ahead of his time. Though with some luck and minor concentration, he managed to operate one. He was still far from proficient with this odd device, but at least he got it work.

Now staring into the blank screen of the tablet, Cao Cao speaks. ]

Just how many generals sit amongst us? How many soldiers and how many strategists? If this is a war, then shouldn't we treat it as such?

[ He paused momentarily in hopes of hearing an answer, but nothing was said. So he continued. ]

I've won wars before but nothing resembling this kind of scale. Gathering the information necessary about my foes was never so daunting as this. Virtually nothing is known about the United Earth or their method of combat. I'm aware that they hold the most influence in this realm, but how so?

[ Mengde wondered if their were other factions out there who hoped to rebel against their federation. He wouldn't be surprised if there were, but they assist them? Surely this war doesn't fall upon the shoulders of a wayward few.

That would be suicide. ]

In truth, I see no victory in sight but I refuse to die a martyr's death.

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?

[This is the breathless voice of someone in panic.]

Does anyone know how to get chewing gum out of hair?! It's kind of an emergency...!!

Please help me. I don't want to cut it!

Is everyone okay?

( She's looking worse for wear, has lost a lot of the muscle she'd managed to build up since getting here. Still, she offers a little grin, a cushion on her lap that her hands are idly twisting into, before she remembers the cup of tea nearby and grabs it up, warming her hands around it. )

So, uh. Okay.

( Eloquent, Linton. )

Do-- is anyone here familiar with Gwen Harwood? She's an Australian poet. I was thinking about her a bit, but I haven't been able to track her down. She wrote this thing, once about how death has become obscene, and philosophers...

( Ellie tilts her head, running her fingers through her hair, gaze not really focused on anything. )

It's been a while. But it's really good. I don't even know if anyone here is that into literature and poetry and stuff except for Dagger. Any takers?

( oz has spent some time practicing, so when the video feed comes on, it's steady and propped up to give a good view of him in the living room of his apartment. he shoots the camera a grin before holding up a helmet that may seem familiar to some people. )

Hello, everyone! You won't believe what I found today. ( a meow can be heard off-screen, and he corrects himself - ) Or more correctly, Li Jun did. Something like this must belong to someone, right?

( he hefts it up closer to the camera so that viewers on the network can get a better view. it's probably clear he basically thinks it's one of the coolest things ever. a real helmet like what a real knight would have!! maybe even what one of his favorite fictional knights would wear while doing something gallant.

it would probably be rude to put it on his head. which is what he does a moment later, cheerfully, because look okay how many chances like this does one get!! the network gets a wave before he takes it off and adds, )

Well, if it someone's, I wouldn't want to keep it from you. So tell me if it's yours, alright?

[The last few minutes of the fighting on Elmer's world involved someone literally dragging a semi-conscious Barney out of a crashed UE tank and back through the portal, after a piece of rubble from an explosion clipped him on the side of the head and knocked him half unconscious. It's a mystery why he chose video for this, as the left half of his face is basically one big mess of bruise and scab, his eyes are blood-shot, and he generally looks like hell.]

Hey, uh, I don't exactly remember who it was, but thanks for dragging me back through the portal back there. Just because they can bring us back from the dead doesn't mean I'm wild about throwing my life away.

[He winces, reaches off screen and gingerly plants a giant ice pack on the injured side of his face.]

Sort of related to that, important thought:

UE pretty clearly just followed us to that world. Almost like they did it just to spite us. They KNOW what we're doing here. Seems to me it's only a matter of time before they just show up here and smash us into raspberry jam. Do we have some sort of secret weapon no one told me about that'll stop them?

[Mahdi addresses the screen dressed in a red apron with his name embroidered on one side: a perhaps-obviously handmade gift from a friend. The apron and his face and bare arms are smudged with flour and a few streaks of chocolate.]

Um, does anyone want cookies? I made cookies.

[Around this time you may notice that pretty much every inch of the kitchen counter is covered with foil-wrapped paper plates.]

I made a few dozen.

And a pie. Maybe two pies.

Baking is how I vent stress sometimes, I guess, um...

I guarantee these cookies will make everyone feel a bit better! So let me know if you'd like a plate, I can drop it off with you. I'll probably be leaving some at the clinic too.


[OOC: Mahdi's cookies will, miraculously, give one a lingering sense of warmth and affection for a short time, due to his powers of emotional projection.]