[ you know what this network needs, denizens of the uss creepy spaceship? 100% more hipsters.

LUCKILY, chapel is here to provide. everyone please mock his cardigan—or listen to what he's got to say. either/or, really. ]

Hey, fellow space kidnappees. If anybody else is interested, I've been organizing all the scientific books I can find—well, I say book; they're more like little holographic USB sticks—and putting them in one place. A lot of 'em are pretty kiddie, but there are some college-level textbooks scattered around, too. Nobody's going to be teaching themselves doctorate-level physics off this library or anything, but there's enough here to kinda get caught up on hundreds of years of scientific development.

There's really only one rule: if you take something, bring it back—and when you bring it back, put it back where you got it. I'm not actually a librarian, and I really don't wanna have to organize all this more than once.

And I think when you close the books, they default to opening on the page they were open to last rather than at the beginning, so be kind and rewind. That's more of a guideline than an actual rule, but you should really do it anyway.

Anyway, that's about it. It's in the 25th floor rec room, right off the green lift. Can't miss it.



[ ooc: also open to action tags/moving into a log if people want. :|b

UPDATE 5/11: tags will probably be a little slow and/or nonexistent until monday. sorry, guys. :c ]

Guessing everyone's feeling a little closer to compos mentis now. Great, that's gonna make this a whole lot easier.

My name is Nathan Petrelli. I'm Senator for New York, elected representative of the people, and recently made Head of Homeland Security by the President himself. It's my job to do what's in the best interests of the people, and in this case I figure that's gonna be easier said than done.

I don't want any of you to worry. Once I get up to speed on the details of what's going on here, I intend to get to the bottom of how we got here, why we were brought here, and how to go about getting back. And I mean how and why, not the bullshit they've been feeding you about jumping and wormholes and the ship needing a crew. There's a malicious intent here I'm gonna address, and then I'm getting everyone back where we belong.

I realise we're not all Americans here, and maybe you think I have no jurisdiction, but I earned the right to intervene the moment I woke up with a tube shoved down my throat, just like everyone else. I want to speak to people who know the most about this place, or be directed toward them. Captain Kirk: you're on my list for starters, but I'd rather speak to the real Captain, rather than some washed up wannabe.

( Not an IC cut - trigger warnings for mentions of depression and suicide, and Nathan is not delicate )

Attention, attention, all Yodas and crackwhores.

[ Santana smiles, sickeningly sweetly - or venomously, it honestly is hard to tell on her - as she scoots down with the device in her lap. She's thankfully showered since the whole goo incident the other day, and so her hair hangs a bit loosely around her face. Not her usual degree of styling but, well, she's missing a few things. ]

I got the deal that you're all fetishy weirdos with nothing better to do than kidnap some high school girls and lock them in a Kool-Aid pit for a while until your strange sexual perversions have been attended to. That's totally fine. Everyone has something they don't wanna talk about. I listen to that Rebecca Black song when I'm upset about something, for example. It makes me feel better knowing with factual evidence that there is someone out in the world who legitimately sucks on such a level that words can't describe. In fact, it makes me laugh just thinking about it, sometimes. I also own a bra from a thrift store. It was super comfy and only cost me four bucks, and after I put it through the spin cycle ten times and it stopped smelling like old people and meth addicts, it was acceptable enough to wear. Those are my things.

But what I'm not gonna be cool with is chuckin' me in this no-class room without any of my necessary shit. Okay? Miss Lopez needs herself a hair straightener, and also her curling iron. She's gonna be running low on mascara in a couple of weeks, and that's so not gonna fly.

[ Santana leans forward, holding up a finger to the camera. ] For the record, whoever was the one who tailored that jumpsuit, you better not show your lily-white ass anywhere in my presence. I can practically feel your creepoid hands still measuring me out, and, no, they're still not in fashion. The eighties want their one-pieces back. Also, prison. Prison without me being some bull dyke with a shaved head's play thing.

Let's hook a sister up. She needs wardrobe and she needs beauty supplies. [ She tosses her hair, and her jumpsuit IS on, but it's been zipped low to show an ample amount of cleavage, and her collar bones. ] I'm sure we can find some way to make it worth your while.

[the camera blips on and HELLO WORLD IT'S CHELL'S FACE and what is presumably her room. though it's pretty dark so you can't see much.

...except that her nose looks a little crooked and bruised. she squints tired eyes at the communicator for a second, and there's text accompanying the video feed. someone doesn't know the video is on!]

hello.

i was told there was a doctor.

[she could totally just go to the medical bay with ease but she wants to get to know whoever this doctor is (if he even exists) before she lets him touch her. paranoia and whatnot. she seems to consider something for a second as there's a thoughtful pause and a biting of the lower lip]

and welcome newcomers.

this place has skeletons.

[Chell that was a horrible welcome.]

[The video frame shows little more than a man from mid-chest up. He's wearing the crew uniform, but he's also wearing tall gloves over top and a smile that straddles the line between friendly and insincere.]

It occurs to me that, despite being aboard for half a month, I have yet to properly introduce myself. A terrible faux pas on my part, and I apologize profusely for it.

[Though he certainly doesn't sound nearly as broken up or shameful about it as his words would imply.]

I am Colonel Jade Curtiss of the Malkuth Imperial Forces, although as I understand it, that has little bearing on our present situation. I have also seen that you have been made familiar with a fellow Auldrantian, one Dist the Reaper. Let it be known that this man does not represent all the people of my world -- he merely represents the most incorrigible of narcissists.

Ah, but enough of him. There are more important matters to discuss.

As I understand it, there are a handful of you who are more knowledgeable about space travel than others, but it is an open question regardless. Have any medical complications arisen from being so far removed from the surface of a planet? Fatigue, shortness of breath - slot block or casting failure, for any fonists among us? A tendency toward biting others on the chest? I would suggest malnutrition or scurvy, but the ship seems to be well-provisioned enough that neither should be a problem for now.

[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.

[Saphir adjusts the video, rather fussed with finding a good angle. Wouldn't do for the unwashed masses to see him looking less than radiant, and the jumpsuit isn't helping matters.]

Well, hello indeed, you absentminded riffraff! It would seem fate has smiled upon you, for you have been graced with the presence of the resplendent genius, Dr. Saphir Ortion Gneiss, or as my friends and colleagues tend to address me - a sign of their utmost humility and respect - Dist the Rose.

[Somewhere between overly pleased with himself and unnerved by the situation, he belts out an uncomfortably long laugh, bordering on maniacal.]

Naturally an engineer of my superior intellect will be of use, though it seems your technology is fundamentally different from the sort I am used to - a very minor setback, I assure you! Infinitesimal, really. In fact, it's much more fascinating than it is off-putting. The mind of a virtuoso thrives on a good challenge, after all.

[He tries his best, but looks less than convinced of the veracity of his own claims. A clearing of the throat and a hair flick later, he's back to haughty and agitating beyond belief.]

The point is, you unhelpful gits haven't been particularly forthcoming, and it would do you well to quit withholding information from those who actually have the wherewithal to make use of it.

[He folds his hands in a businesslike manner and leans toward the camera.]

So tell me about your technology, get to it!!!