[ click! as the device starts recording. the screen is filled by a strange, helmeted visage -- all features completely obscured, just shiny black material and smooth curves. a pause, as the figure tilts is head slightly, then speaks in a curious, electronically-masked voice. ]

What a strange vessel.
Lacking in New-U stations,
psychos and midgets.

[ and then a brief pause before his helmets project a holographic image -- a bright red :) that floats before the glossy surface. ]

I seek a way home.
But until then, for hire:
Expert assassin.

[ Oh, no, it's another one of them creatures that has no idea how to operate with technology! So, she slapped the communicator device until it bleeped and she is currently staring at it.

Behind her stretch out the Oxygen Gardens (second level or one of those, since she's in the middle of the jungle), near a body of water. The girl is wet, as if she has jumped in the water, and seems unsure, worried, like she is having second thoughts about this whole broadcasting thing - she doesn't think it's a good idea exposing herself to a network (not that she knows what a network is, but while the concept and word are foreign to her, the idea of exposing herself to the public isn't), but she doesn't seem to have any other ideas of how to get out of here.

There's a long beat until she realizes she is being recorded. ]

I need to go back to the sea. [ She has a strange accent, not quite terrestrial but it could be something like an Australian accent mixed with some Polish or something weird like that. A bit... native American, maybe. Broken and slow, like she has to think about each word before speaking. It's strange and difficult to pinpoint where this accent is from, but she isn't talking much anyway. ] Take me back to the sea. I must not stay.

Whoever told Tony to sing Rolling in the Deep is getting an earful from me later. You know who you are. Next time, go with Styx. Or better yet, skip karaoke night altogether.

Coffee: lesson one. The stuff here? Two level scoops and a generous half. Only way it's palatable. That's my contribution. In exchange... I'm looking for a solid supply of canvas and some stiff packing materials. Takers will get coffee, or a serenade.

[At which point, listeners will hear the chorus of this as sung by a very drunk Tony Stark. THE BEEB.]

[100% encrypted to that Other Clint Barton (if you can hack this, your name is Tony Stark):]

I saw the rumor. I want to meet her.

[70% encrypted to Francis Barton]

Time's up.

[So, this last jump? Aaron got a gun. Just walked up to his locker for his clothes, clicked it open, and there it was. Sitting on top of his leather jacket, a few cases of ammunition behind it.

He really missed his gun.

Which is why, today, he's not addressing the network through text. Instead, he's sitting in his room, a single gold case (it almost looks like cigarette case) hanging around his neck, face serious and posture... well, it almost looks a little threatening.]

I need to know how often people from your worlds show up, people you know. When one person ends up here, do other people follow? That sort of thing.

Also... I need a chemist. [His expression tenses a little, almost darkens] Consider it urgent.

[There's a quick pause, and Aaron's lifting up the handgun he'd been given this jump, wiggling it in plain view of the camera.]

People from Outcome... Byer? You know what this means.

[And, almost looking smug, he leans forward and flicks the feed off.]

Greetings, everyone. [On the camera shows an unfamiliar face to a lot, most likely, since Japan arrived with the latest jump. But he's surprisingly calm despite that fact, already looking to be settling himself into... a bar over at deck 024. Hm. There's not too much of a view of that, though, as he keeps the video fixed on himself, standing tall (as he can at 165cm) and confident in his uniform.]

I am looking to find any spare materials both for building furniture and making clothing. It seems there is a lack of both on board aside from the, ah... provided sorts. [Which is clear in his tone he doesn't find worthy or 'enough' at all.]

In exchange for this request to the community, I'm willing to offer my services. That is to say, I am confident in my ability to sew and create clothing, at the very least, so if anyone is interested in such things I would not mind working something out.

Ah... Thank you in advance. I am Japan, by the way, and I will be here to reply to any questions or suggestions.

[the video clicks on to a view of the shuttle bay. gee that is a nice shuttle bay, real big and full of ships that's cool. until you notice what else is there. namely an enormous fucking dog that's snuffing around the base of one of the shuttles.]

I found a dog.

[Tate states as the behemoth of an animal seems to just disappear into a patch of shadows for a moment. it could be a trick of the eye, it's hard to tell, but when it shows up again it's face is all but in the camera.

she gives Tate a wary look when he reaches a palm out to her, before snuffing distastefully and trotting off again.]

It's kind of temperamental. I'm pretty sure it wasn't here before since, you know, it's the size of a horse and I don't think anyone would have missed that. Anyway someone should come and get it before it starts chewing on one of the bikes or something.

[Bed rest sucks.

[Now that we've got that out of the way, you know what doesn't suck? Dutch weed. Just a little bit of it. Not only does Murphy not feel like he's been royally screwed over by a bullet wound and injuries and sicknesses he'd endured from Silent Hill, but he's feeling pretty much like the universe is an okay place right about now. No nightmares of dead children and angry wives and shackles, prison, being a monster...

[Nothing's okay, everything's fine, fine fine. And we have Murphy here. Now's not the time to be tacking away over text! Instead, we're treated to a hoarse, haggard voice of a swell and phenomenally high man:]

"Y'know what's really somethin' that I've never taken into consideration before? We're in space.

"I said it, we're in space. You'd think the novelty of it wouldn't wear down after so long, but..." [He scoffs.] "Never even was one of those kids who... y'know, wanted to be an astronaut when they grew up, but...

"Hey! Here's a question: What did you wanna be when you grew up? Grow up. Sorry. Some of you are kids. But still...

"Me, I always thought it'd be kinda cool to be like Mr. White, uh... Minus the gettin' shot at part. 'Cause bein' shot really hurts, and..."

[There's a pause. Are we going to finish that thought? No?]

"Shit, I think I can feel my brain..."

[Another pause. There's a sound of something creaking.] "I'm really bored right now."

[Somebody take Murphy's communicator away before he says/does something he's going to regret... Or just talk to him, because goddamn.]

[THIS IS A RECORDING OF A WALL THAT HAS BEEN SMEARED WITH WHITE PAINT. well it looks like white paint.

obviously this is very exciting but what's more exciting is a vague humming sound coming from somewhere off-camera. it continues for a few seconds and there's a popping sound, and the once-empty white wall now bears an oval shaped opening outlined in glowing orange.

within that orange portal is a room, and in that room is a bed, and on that bed is Chell (sitting around in her underwear, what a slob) holding a working Portal Gun in her hands. she hops off the bed and strides towards the camera. she walks through the portal and bends down to pick up the device.

she looks...vaguely pleased and shuts the video feed off.]

[the next bit is text.]

avoid blue and orange gel.

trying something.