[Eridan's almost like clockwork, in that he posts pretty consistently right after every jump. In this case, though, he's not bothering with text - probably because he is going to be rambling way too much and he doesn't want people railing on him for typin like a complete fuckin tool.

This time, he's going with voice. Because this amount of catty rambling can't be texted. There is, though, an underlying tone - like he's rambling because he needs to keep his mouth moving or else he's going to be extra grade stupid. It probably has nothing to do with anything that might've happened this past month, no siree.]

Runnin' commentary on all'a you still stuck dowwn here, doin' wwhatevver the fuck you're doin', because I'm fuckin' bored an' I don't see any fuckin' horns that aren't mine or Nep's, makin' this jump, just like evvery other one, a complete fuckin' wwaste'a time.

Okay so basically, first wwe've got evveryone wwho's used to this. Most'a you just kind'a stumble out, look around an' get your naked fuckin' asses to the lockers. Seriously, okay, from noww on someone has to start putting towwels out right the fuck awway, because I'm sick'a lookin' at all'a you bein' fuckin' naked. [BLECH gross humans.] An' I'm seriously gonna havve to just come up to you people next jump an' use my security position to force you to get hair cuts because ugh. That's gotta suck cleanin' outta your hair. Especially you, curly-haired asshole wwho nevver stops makin' fun'a me. [TAKE THAT, SHERLOCK.]
( cut for extensive rambling, characters mentioned include aragorn, rey, murphy, justin and wheatley )

I must admit, I've never actually been on a space-ship, before. Never really considered that a space-going vessel of this impressive size existed. Not exactly something you could park without people knowing about it, is it? I'd hate to see upkeep costs, they must be absolute killers.

[He takes a moment to relax in his chair, readjusting the video feed before sitting back and cracking his neck a few times.]

Looks like I'll be staying for a while, in any case. I see I've got a lot of people to meet. You can call me Lawrence. Let's just leave it at that for now, shall we? I'm from a little blue planet called Earth, which I'm sure a lot of you know of. I was a...specialist, of sorts. I solve problems of varying kinds.

Being that I AM a working professional, you can understand how inopportune it is that our mysterious benefactors saw fit not to give me my equipment. Damned shame, that. And here I could have been a big help to ship security. Guess I'll have to find alternative means of employment. A man's got to fill the hours somehow, right?

[A beat.]

By the way, does anyone here know a bunch of young, self-styled vigilantes, by any chance? Early teen years, silly outfits, unrealistic ideals? I'm an old friend, and I wouldn't mind getting back in touch.

[ There's a voice full of gravel and smoke (fire and brimstone) crackling over the airwaves the 'evening' of the jump. ]

Welcome, welcome, boys and girls, to the Good Ship Lollipop.

I assume you've all had a bit of time to wipe that placenta off of your faces from what we call the gravpouches and settle in. And some of you more clever lot may have even had time to read over the welcome message procured by one of your fellow travelers.

But if you haven't, here's the skinny: you're in space. That's right - drifting in a frigate in a galaxy far, far away. No, we don't know how you got here. No, we don't know why, exactly, you're here. Have some dignity and do stop asking us for information on it - it gets extremely tiresome after about the second broadcast.

Do have a sniff around for that information. You may find a lot of those burning questions are answered there.

I'm here, though, to tell you about some things you haven't quite thought of yet.

First off, on the issue of leadership - the official text answer is that you talk to Ward and Resnik. They're driving. However, ask anyone who's been here for a month without their fingers in their ears and you'll hear that this show is run by Captain James Tiberius Kirk - yes, that Kirk, for all you Trekkies. Try not to wet yourselves.

Secondly! If you are human - congratulations! You are the 99%. If you're not, and you have a diet that consists of flesh, blood, or human misery, you might just want to keep that to yourselves. Or talk to Kirk or those boys in the medbay; word on the air is that they're running some sort of soup kitchen.

Finally, for those of you who are wondering about what's on the itinerary for your forced vacation, let me give you a summation of what our delightful host has prepared for us in the past few months. There's been: halls that do a great impression of Endless Youtube, skeletons in the hallway, strange sigils on the wall, hostile alien take-overs, and, just this last month, demon infestation!

Do you feel as if you're being watched? Well, you are, if anything our red-fonted, smiley friend with no traceable source is any sort of authority. I think some people have postulated that the ship itself is alive and, in fact, responsible for bringing us here. It must have gotten bored of its old crew, but after seeing a few of you sorry sods in the locker room this morning, I'm going to have to question its taste a bit.

Well, I think that's about it. If you've got any interesting questions, I might just answer them.

I'm sure a few of you are about to be very cross with me for spilling the beans, and here's my rebuttal: Shame on you. These people deserve to know the truth of what they're in for, especially if they're smart enough to have stuck with me this far.

You've reached the other side of the looking glass, my dears. The sooner you realize you're in for one hell of a ride, the better off you'll be.

Kisses.

[ For someone who has had enough commentary about him thrown around in the past few days, Erik isn't one to shy away from a public feed, least of all when he has something to say in the first place. He'll take the hits as they come, and quite honestly, Erik anticipates them should anyone want to address the matter in the first place, but that's not what he's here about right now.

Fingers tapping lightly against the surface nearby, the feed is focused directly on Erik's jaw, impatient as he is generally. It seems as if for a moment he's lost in his own thoughts, but the camera only stills like that for all of a second or two before the tapping stops and Erik glances levelly with the video, neutral as possible. ]

I believe after recent events, [ read: demons. ] it would be prudent to ensure those you're familiar with are still around.

[ In a way it's personal enough for him, given that Erik has been keeping tabs on Charles and the rest of the mutants as well as possible, alongside of the ones he's come to form decent enough company with. ]

Perhaps the ship seems to show a bias for those whom the current inhabitants already know.

[ The video feed cuts in to display Justin Taylor with the sketchpad he arrived with propped up on a knee while he hangs out in one of the lounge areas, watching people pass by. He speaks distractedly. ]

So, I'm on to a few theories. Most of them involve all of you being on some kind of group hallucinogenic trip and this being a bizarre, Lucas Con rejects cult commune. But seeing as 'low budget sci-fi basement porno dungeon' has been shot down, the best I really have left is 'underground kidnapping ring that's going to end in me getting sold off as a sex slave to some foreign business tycoon' and that just seems absurd. [ He glances up at the comm device, shaking his head, and holds his hands up to gesture for a moment. ] I mean. There would be cages or something, wouldn't there? You don't just let sex slaves wander, and you don't build cliche fantasy sets for them.

[ He pauses to look at the camera in earnest for a moment. ] So, since you're all so convinced, is there actual proof of the whole space thing? We're short on windows, and no, this isn’t me asking to be shoved out an airlock, so you can take your smartassed comments and shove them right back up your ass, thank you very much. And even with windows - who's to say it's not just special effects. The government can do shit like that, right?

[ There's a weak shrug ] I'd just like to know I'm not a lab rat in some severely fucked up, large scale social experiment.

[ Who's that girl using her tablet as a mirror? None other than Saint Kitten, who is currently fussing over the state of her blonde curls and humming softly. The more observant ones can probably notice the Adam's Apple, but after a few blinks of wide, blue eyes she realizes that she has, somewhere along the line, pressed transmit. ]

Oh fiddley boodles.

[ That's what you get for being from the 60s. She brightens up anyway: all Irish accent and husky voice and smiles. ] Is this my best side, darlings?

Hello, my fellow captives, it appears I'm back again. I hope to get a flood of beautiful faces weeping with joy at seeing me here once more to brighten up their day.

Do tell fill me in on what's been happening, hnn?