[HAL's voice is soft-spoken and formal, but there's a strange lilt to his consonants, and it sounds as though he might be a little out of breath. There's also the universally tell-tale sound of just-woken-up grogginess in there.]

A man in an orange suit floating away. [He mutters it under his breath, almost, then pauses and speaks more clearly.] Did you know that dreams are unexplained phenomena? While there are plenty of theories as to what they represent, or what causes them, no one has actually... Figured them out. At least, as far as I've ever been aware of. Perhaps this universe has a better understanding of dreams than mine ever did.

That being said, I wish there was a way to study them, or... at least prevent them from causing me undue frustration. As an Artificial Intelligence, it's... [what's the word?] uncomfortable to have my mind produce things without my permission. It feels like a glitch, and I'm not afraid to say that I do not like it.

[He sounds like he's getting more coherent - and more than that, maybe a little embarrassed for (what he would consider) flying off the handle there.] I apologize, this doesn't seem to be a very good use of network communications. But I felt as though I needed to say these things aloud, and there's no purpose in talking to yourself.

i've been told i'm a good jumper.

guess i'm still here.

remember: "don't believe everything they tell you."

we have liars on the ship.

[that cryptic message was brought to you by Chell! except not really! in fact it was brought to you by a demon sorting through its new supply of memories from its new host but shhhhh no one knows that yet.

five minutes pass, and then a video feed pops up. it's of a woman sitting on the bed in her room. half her lip is quirked up into a somewhat eerie smile that resembles a sort of stubborn annoyance.

she opens her mouth for a second, and there's a slight crack. she draws her hand to her throat, eyebrows stitching up with agitation. she tries again. the voice...yes, the voice that comes out is quiet, and coarse from what could be years of lack of use. but it can be heard.]

Maybe...

[that's right. she's talking. there's a pause as she regains her breath.]

Maybe I can...tell you about a liar. [a pause, and she swallows] Maybe even...two.

[her hand is at her throat and there's a cough as though to clear it.]

First I guess I should...say hello.

[a pause for effect. it has a handle of her memories now.]

Or...apple.

[Hey everyone, hope you don't mind a slightly deadpan techie to go with your moral dilemma!]

So, I know everyone is still reeling with the ramifications of a mutineer on board, and far be it from me to weigh in on that, but...

I think we need to get some hands on hand to repair some of the damage done in the scuffle.

As a certain pilot pointed out to me, pretty much everyone listed as engineer is either A) no longer present due to gravity couches, or B) Megamind, neither of which are really up to the task in these situations.

I know more than enough about ship repair, so unless any commanding staff objects, I'd like to take over engineering duties for the time being. I've stumbled upon maybe half a dozen spots that still need repairs.

If no one objects, I'm just going to grab myself a toolbox.

[ it takes him only a matter of moments to initiate the feed, and while megamind does indeed have control of the communications at large, spock remains significantly sure of the stability of his own encryption. and it's one he patches in to every communicator on board. save those of the hostages and their resident usurper.

the feed opens to his undivided attention with one captain kirk standing behind him, preoccupied with his own communicator. ]

Greetings Tranquility, this is Spock.

As the passenger known as Megamind has stated, he does indeed possess considerable control of our vessel. In response I find it necessary to address the dangers inherent in disobeying his requests. It has been made clear that his intentions are unquestionably hostile and the likelihood that resistance will be met with force is 98.8 percent.

With this in mind, I invite all passengers able and willing to aid in the rescue of hostages Roxanne Richie and Doctor Jane Foster as well the capture of Megamind to present themselves. Please state any relevant qualifications and experience so that you may be appropriately grouped.

I repeat all personnel are requested to assist.

Groups will be constructed as they volunteer and each will contain a minimum of two individuals with extensive experience in combat. All those who wish to remain uninvolved are advised to secure themselves in their quarters or medical bay until further notice.

[ his gaze flicks to the side. ]

We have 26.4 minutes, and you have my gratitude.
Spock out.


[ooc: directing everyone to the OOC sign up for all your grouping needs!]

[ the feed opens with a frustrated sigh and the scratch of a pencil across paper. there is a brief glimpse of a drawing of respectable quality - two young girls in frilly dresses - before DG adjusts the communicator to show herself instead. ]

Okay so-- I know this is a long shot but with people being from all these different worlds or whatever, I've got to ask. [ she takes a quick breath, glances to the sketchbook propped against her knees, and nods. ]

Has anyone heard of a place called the Outer Zone? It's where I was before I was brought here, and...I dunno, I'm just wondering.

[When the video turns on, it can be seen situated on a table in a corner, various tools and different parts spread out on every inch of the table. Balthier is tossing a screw driver up and down, catching it by the handle each time.]

I suppose it's time for me to make one of these things on the network, seeing as I've been here for some time already, and not many of you know my name. [He smirks.] And you should know my name, seeing as one of these days you'll be calling me "captain".

[He stops tossing the screwdriver and he puts an elbow on the table, leaning to the side.]

As you can see, I've managed to scrounge up a rather lovely array of items from this ship that it doesn't need anymore. Or, something that I know for a fact it doesn't need anymore. But I'm rather lacking in inspiration for something fun right now to make out of them. So, those of you out there, if you find yourself lacking entertainment right now, let's come up with an idea for something. Of course, I would be grateful to anyone who would bring me more parts. We can make a game out of this, or perhaps I could become a balloon animal maker with metal.

In any case, I'm rather bored. And I know for a fact that you're all rather bored, too. There's only so many disappearing doors and corridors that we can deal with before someone starts exhibiting signs of some sort of space dementia.

[He pauses.] Or maybe you're already experiencing it, and hiding it from the rest of us. We all do like our secrets on this ship, don't we?

[He reaches out to turn off the feed, and right before he does so...] The name is Balthier, by the by. For those of you unlucky enough not to know it till now.

writing on the wall.

[yes Chell. hop on the bandwagon of everyone commenting on recent events. surely your short-texted insight is needed when there are actual geniuses on the ship. but what's going on is extreme deja-vu on her part, just with some more skeletons.]

another puzzle. a test. we need to figure it out, expose the lie, get out of here. go home, somehow, to freedom.

the cake was safe.

[GUESS WHO FOUND HERSELF SOME CAKE LYING AROUND WHEN SHE DISCOVERED THE ROOM clearly not exploiting an old meme at all. nope. and heck yeah she totally ate that cake.]

we can trust the painter. art doesn't lie.

a/s/t

refresher course for anyone whos forgotten the drill
a = age duh
s = species
t = time
when youre from the year day hour minute the whole shebang
in fact you can forget the other things that last one is the only one i actually give the remotest shit about
my single shit is a star millions of light years away and if you squint through the hubble or something you might catch its distant twinkle
but thats it
dont actually answer the rest of it i really dont care if youre a middle aged phosphorescent insurance salesman from mars just give me the digits
and if you got the lowdown on the timeline in this hellhole cough it up now

ps
whichever one of you assholes put baby got back on my thing
put it back
thats my jam

pps
need a suit
its for work

also a ps
john pick your shit up off the floor or im throwing it outside this isnt a goddamn zoo


[also text permissions can be found here!]

[Deep breaths, Lou, deep breaths. He's still practicing this exercise about a split second before the recording begins, shifting his focus to it immediately, superficially ready to laugh and quip at this silly challenge someone has proposed (forced) him to take part in.

It's nothing but pure nerves, he assures you.]

This is... definitely the most fucked up thing I've ever seen.

[There's an exhale, not quite a laugh. See? Nothing but nerves.]

I guess I'm supposed to say hi now.

Hi. I'm the new guy.

... I think I lost someone's cat.

(ooc: disorientation = Lou doesn't remember the cat is actually his. And madam Cambridge is going to find it! Feel free to run into a man carrying around a small dead cactus and a pack of cigarettes, if you want to go for an action thread.)

[ He'll casually be tapping the device; to check if this is on. The camera is moving, you can tell he's in one of the Lounges in the Holodecks. ]

Is it on? - Fuck, I'm usually really excellent at turning things on. I am not spending another 20 minutes rambling only to find it didn't record agai- oh, okay, there red dot. Good. Spot on. Bloody thing works.

[ Hello Tranquility, after a few more movements, he faces it towards himself. there's a rather chatty brown haired pretty boy grinning at the camera. ]

Hello there, Citizens of Starship Enterprise Registry 'We are fucked'. As much as I appreciate a good kidnapping - gelatinized kool aid too; didn't see that one comin' - I really was in the middle of something prett-tay important. Since there's a bunch of us joining you already rather large and zany bunch - I was wondering if the supernatural - actually - preternatural, let's be politically correct here, hold any meaning to any of you? Like what's the mystic to mortal ratio on this ship?

Any ghost busters references will be met with extreme sarcasm; or declarations of 'who ya gonna call?'

⎬⎬ OOC PERMISSIONS POST FOR SUPERNATURALS + POP CULTURE/4TH WALLIN