Two things. One, I'm one of the flight officers now. Name's Clint Barton.

Second... Still looking for some materials. If anyone has an extra mattress you don't want, I'll take it off your hands. Old winter coats, scraps of clothes from home you'd like to see someone tear up? I'll take those, too.

[He is about to end the feed when he has an additional thought:]

If you see a little dark-haired kid in a suit in places he's not supposed to be, let me know. He answers to "Anthony".

[Satisfied now, Clint slings a quiver of arrows and a sleek black bow over his shoulder before shutting off the transmission.]

[Text to Ultimates/allied Avengers; encryption 100%]

Did anyone else have an issue with those masks? I haven't felt right since those things showed up.

Oh come on! Why isn't it gone yet?

[there's a couple of distinct thunks and Francis turns his device to show a certain mask on his door, now with complimentary arrows sticking out of its mouth and eye sockets

he turns the camera back towards himself, and he's looking ... well, he's looked better. Francis has his black and white clothes now instead of the ship uniform, but they're rumpled and slept in and he looks pretty tired and high-strung himself]

It was bad enough when it showed up before the jump, and then it was still there right after, but it's been like a week. Has anyone even figured out where the heck they came from?

[he glares, then sets the device down to retrieve his arrows, putting them back in his quiver]

Whatever. I'm going back to the Oxygen Gardens until it's gone.

There is a bottle on the feed. But not just any bottle. A bottle with a ship inside of it. And even still, there’s more to that than meets the eye. Because there’s a storm inside that bottle, an actual, moving storm. A harsh storm, with violent winds that cause giant, torrendous waves, and the sails of the ship to wildly flutter about. The ship is battling the storm and the waves and as the seconds tick by, it’s easy to tell that the ship isn't going to win this battle. It’s Mother Nature, after all, and who can win against that?

But then the whoever was holding the bottle lowers it, and oh look, it’s Captain Jack Sparrow! It’s been quite a while since he was last on the feeds, and he’s got a proposition for you, Tranquility.

“This,” He starts out with. “Is me ship.” And he’ll raise the bottle again, just so you know exactly which ship it’s talking about. He opens his mouth and raises a finger. “It is in a bottle.” He completely lowers the bottle now, placing it down with the utmost care. He then grabs the communicator and moves it closer, looking into it with complete seriousness. “Me crew be on that ship. An’ I want t’get them and me ship, outta that bottle.”

He raises both index fingers into the air. “To do that, I shall need,” he counts off each item on his fingers. “Three goats--actual goats.” He points at the screen. “None of you. Shapeshiftin’ types. Sorry, luv.” He still loves you, Jaye, really he does. “A crossbow, an hourglass, an’ a trumpet.” He nods to himself, and then looks at the feed expectantly. Well, Tranquility. Cough up.

...Oh, you probably want something to trade for all that, don’t you? His eyes widen with an “Oh.” and he looks about himself for a second before picking up and holding up a bottle to the feed. This one doesn't have a ship inside. “I can give you rum.” Which, as you may or may not have noticed, that no place else on the ship has rum. Because he steals them all after every jump. From the bar, from the kitchens. He makes rounds. This is a real thing.

After another second or two, he gives a nod. “Right, guess that’s about it.” And with that, he shuts the feed off.

((OOC: Before anyone asks, yes you are free to fourth wall Jack as much as you like! Go wild!))

[ since waking up in the pod, dean's had quite the eventful time. between people telling him he's been here twice before, some nut job hiding behind a red smiley face, and cas being anything but the angel he remembers from home-- well, needless to say dean's feeling a little like someone who had the rug pulled from under his feet.

that, and the now clear memories of what went down back home on top of it all make for shit storm he's not quite ready to deal with yet. if ever.

but speaking of home, there's something that's been bothering more as he's watched the network ever since the jump had landed him in this mess. so today finds him poking this very problem. ]

So, about people going home.

I don't get it. What's the big deal? Ain't it a good thing when someone gets a couple post stamps slapped on their forehead and then shipped off back to whatever factory they popped out of? I'm not saying whatever's waiting back home is all sunshine and puppies for everyone 'round here -- [ it's no paradise he's ready to kick some ass for either. ] -- but settlin' like this place is some kinda home doesn't seem right. Especially if the things I've heard 'bout our ride're true.

[ he gets that things haven't been exactly a breeze on the ship, really. ]

Just sayin'. Sounds like an awful lot of people gettin' too cozy 'round here.

[ and with those deep and meaningful thoughts, dean cuts the feed. ]

[well that sure is a dapper gent on the feed now isn't he. kind of roguish looking, rakish and fierce. he wears a shirt made by a recently missing seamstress and a crimson red coat that hangs open, long black curls of hair that look like dripping candles and the brightest blue eyes face the camera.

he offers a bow to the video.]

Shipmates, firstly I must offer my condolences. To those that were acquainted with our late Miss Stone; she will be greatly missed.

[he lays a hand upon his breast, bowing his head, and he would have swept off his hat, had he had it with him. after a moment's pause, those striking eyes return to the camera and he offers a smile, a sly thing.]

I am James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, though I understand such a title is neither here nor there when we travel amoung the stars. I have seen, and heard whisper, of grievances accompanied with these masks that this place has so graciously provided us. Whispers that they are evil things, that cause you to act outside the norm.

Here I have for you, a solution.

[and he steps back, revealing a large, antique chest, about a metre wide.]

I have with me a chest, built for holding and hiding treasure. Now there is very little in the way of what a man like me might consider treasure on board, but it would be a pity to waste such a wonderful chest. "What could I possibly use it for?" said I, as I mused within my cabin. "What use could this chest possibly be on a craft from the future?"

Then I realized! These masks, they cannot be destroyed. Send them beyond the walls of this ship and they should return. But lock them up- [and oh ho, look how clever this man is. his tone is beguiling, convincing, and you may find yourself agreeing with him despite yourself.] and they shan't go anywhere.

So I offer you, my friends, this chest. Any that have not yet found a solution to their distress may bring their masks to me, and I shall lock them away for safe keeping.

[again, he bows]

I reside in cabin eighty, of the ninth floor. My door is open to you.

Hello, my fellow abductees on the S.S. I-Never-Asked-For-This-Let-Me-Go-Home, your resident blind guy here with an offer, I suppose. I know this is going to seem a bit out of place, considering the state of things, but I figured some people could, perhaps, enjoy a little zen to their day! Correct me if I'm wrong though.

[ auggie you're rambling here ]

Right, last Jump I received some... ah, music in my locker -- on a USB -- and I've been fiddling around a bit with it to see how I could use it. I ended up converting it to put on my communicator, meaning hey look at that, suddenly iPod. I know, I know, maybe not the best use of my time here but whatever, right?

Aaaanyway, the point of this is -- I'm going to share it now with you all. I've listed the music I have available but if anyone has something they're willing to share, we can kind of make a music swap? The iTunes store, without the .99 cents surcharge and the comfort of your own personal computer screen. Though, sadly, you'll have to get your own headphones.

[ there's a quiet breath here, barely audible but the only hint of tension in his casual tone. he doesn't really know if he's jumping the gun here or not but he does think it would help, if anyone wants this. ]

The app's source is from my computer at Communications. If any of you have iPods or anything like that and want to offer to share your stuff, just hit me up and I'll convert it to the app for easy accessibility. I'm kind of rambling here and maybe being that bit presumptuous but I thought I'd offer anyway. Feel free to ignore it.

[ a pause ]

Thanks for listening.

[ and now, if anyone does go pursue what auggie's attached to his post, they will find this: ]

( SPACE NAPSTER )

(( OOC: Anyway, yeah! Auggie made Space Napster. He needed a reason to distract himself so has probably been working on this in Comms since the Jump. Basically what he said runs true, think "music app" for your iPhone or whatever -- that's basically what this is, h-haha. :'D Anyway, here is the journal post where you can either ICly or OOCly add music to it, I'll update them as needed. Thanks a bunch! ))

[Tony is sitting in a chair, feet propped up against a table with a drink in one hand. He's still avoiding those dreadful jumpsuits so he's dressed in one of his fancy suits instead although it's a little rumpled as he has no idea how to iron. Looking at him, you wouldn't be able to tell that he's barely keeping himself together.]

You know what I miss?

Good alcohol. Scotch, whiskey, a martini. This stuff is good enough to get drunk on, but still disappointing.

So let's barter. I'm sure some of you out there have something decent in your possession. I can build you a personalised nanite fleet, portable teleporter and/or force field, dimensional gate, super-soldier exo-suit, Thor's hammer-- actually scratch the hammer, weather manipulation in an enclosed space is just stupid, for the really good stuff and in large quantities.

For the lesser stuff you can choose between a weapon of your choice provided it's not something like a nuke, your very own pet Wall-E or some other small trinket, coffee machine, whatever.

Everything is negotiable and if you have something specific in mind feel free to ask. I also reserve the right to not do business with you for whatever reason.

[It means anyone wanting something that could be used as a weapon beyond a simple gun or sword will be scrutinised heavily. Also any of the big stuff will have built in safety mechanisms so he can shut it down remotely if the need arises. He doesn't really see anyone actually fulfilling his criteria for the big stuff, but he's crossing his fingers.]

The offer is open indefinitely and I'll probably have something up on that noticeboard.

[filtered to the Ultimates; encrypted 100%]

And just as an addition. I realise with the whole different timelines and all, not all of you would know about this. Clint knows already, but I'm sure you've all wondered at one point or another why someone like me is in this business.

I'm dying. [He looks incredibly relaxed as he says this and taps the side of his head.] Brain tumour, inoperable. Blah blah blah. I figured I'd go out with a bang. It's gone into remission a couple of times which is the only reason I'm still around, but it's back right now.

This isn't the important part.

[Speaking off camera.] Come over here.

[A young boy walks into view dressed in a suit just like Tony, basically imagine Tony as a child. The important thing to note here is that he is rather ghostly.]

This is Anthony, he's my tumour. Say hi, this is my team.

[Anthony smiles and waves at the camera.]

He's also a technopath. So any questions?