[ The feed opens to Sherlock seated at his lab table with finger steepled, smiling in a way that seems almost pleasant if not for the inherent sense of smouldering rage in his eyes. Oh yes, he is a wee bit peeved. And do you know why, Tranquility? Because someone is taking his shit. ]

Good afternoon. I require some assistance in the gathering of suspects after a theft of a personal item despite the constant and clearly ineffective presence of security roaming the halls like a herd of stray cats. It's a matter I would prefer to handle personally, in any rate.

[ Seeing as, you know, he maybe sort of kind of stole the stuff from the Science Department first, but who really cares about the semantics? And anyway he could handle the back and forth of snatching items with whoever's involved up until his precious electron microscope was stolen. He loved that scope. That was too far. ]

The man I'm looking for is unusually tall - I'd say just shy of two metres - aged somewhere in the range of his early fifties. Physically fit, impeccable posture and hair that's, oh, I'd say waist length with some charming hints of gray. Personality-wise I would say I'm in search of a self-important megalomaniac with a God complex. If you know anyone of that description and could be so kind as to send them my way I would most appreciative.

[ He then leans forward, eyes narrowing at the screen. ]

And if you are the man I'm looking for and you'd like your highly detailed notes returned please feel free to contact me personally.

[ With another overly-friendly smile, he leans forward and ends the feed. ]

[The feed flicks on, revealing a young, blond woman, chilling in some hallway in a...bat-costume? She's grinning pretty widely for someone who's supposed to be dark as the (k)night.]

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's—[dramatic pause]—sure as hell a giant, creepy spaceship because Superman you ain't. [She sighs, grin disappearing in favor of a more deadpan expression.]

So, hey, I'm new, but let's skip the mental breakdowns, freak outs, where is "x", have you seen my "y," I am scared, blah blah, wah wah, yadda yadda, etcetera, ad naseum [dismissive wave] and go straight to introductions and pleasantries.

Hey, space people. I'm Batgirl. The real deal, even — see, I come fully equipped with Batarangs, witty retorts, and everything. Yeah, yeah, I've snooped through the network. Done a little detecting, as they say. I've heard rumors of comics and fourthwalls; don't worry. If I'm fictional where you're from, then I will be available for autographs upon request. The one thing I ask of you is pretty please: no spoilers. I happen to like surprises.

Anyway, I also like coffee and waffles, especially in delicious conjunction, rooftop tag, crime fighting, and, of course, justice.

I'm sure you've seen my spooky boss-man's pseudo-vandalism, but I figured I should put the word out in my own way: call me, beep me, if you want to text me; that's a-okay. I'll be there whenever you need me, as cheesy as that sounds. It's part of the super-gig. You can ask questions and/or heckle now, I guess. Do whatever floats your boat. I'll be here aaaaaaall week.

[Kurt's voice sounds sort of...different. It's somehow deeper than usual--as deep as his voice can get, anyway--and has a strange, flat sort of quality, as if he's holding something back.]

I'm tired of pretending like everything's okay.

Horrible things have happened. People have--left. There were monsters. There was...Strela. And I think, oh, everyone else can handle it. They're all fighters. This is par for the course for a lot of you guys, right? Because you're strong. Because you aren't some silly little teenager whose biggest concerns are a cheating boyfriend and a failed musical theater audition, right?

[He takes in a single deep, shuddering breath.]

But then I think-- It any of this supposed to be normal? When does it become okay to be desensitized, to stop letting all of this get to you? Is that when this place--this ship, everything on it-- Is that when they win?

Maybe I'm weak and pathetic. But I'm trying so hard to make things feel normal here, but I can't just shrug off how badly I want to just--scream, just curl up somewhere and scream and scream because all of this is just so freaking insane.

Ugh. [Pause.] I'm sorry. [Disconnect.]

[ooc note; So someone's finally been succumbing to his mask. You can blame some recent events. :|b]

[ A dark corridor, incredibly low light and clearly not quite on the beaten path. The camera is steady, and something dark moves soundlessly into view. The cape that sways across the corridor is ink black, like shadow moving rather than fabric. An arm moves out of the bulk of the shadow, holding a long tube, and then there's a hiss, air rushing through a narrow space, a semi-phosphorescent, clearly chemical paint sprayed onto the blank surface. The symbol glows as the hiss stops, and Batman pivots on the spot to face the recording device. His outfit is so dark that the whites of his eyes are the brightest point, catching in the pathetic light generated by the device. ]

Remember. I am always watching.

[ He raises his hand again, and a small red light is briefly visible before the device turns off all on its own. ]



[ OOC: The bat signal will be appearing/have appeared in all sorts of places, but particularly the less familiar parts of the ship. Bruce has spent months now orientating himself and learning how to come and go without being seen. Just as a warning: Batman may not be very talkative, might not respond at all and is likely to end any given conversation abruptly. That's just how he is. Also he means it. He's always watching. Fourth walling is on a case by case basis, and people who know his secret identity, you douches can keep it to yourselves, otherwise I won't be responsible for what I might let Dexter do to you. ]

[ Well, hey TQ, hope you don't mind this fresh face on the network. She normally sticks to texting because if it looks like a phone and acts like a (kind of sci-fi upgraded) phone, why not use it like one? But she's been going through the other features — slow day on the ship, you know how it is — and after rifling through everything she can easily find on the communicator, she decides to post up a video.

So here's a young, teenaged girl setting the comm in front of her before she sits down cross-legged and twirls a lock of her hair. Alas, it's got less of a bounce than it normally does, but that's what lack of hot rollers on a ship will do. ]

If I write my best essay and promise to stay on my best behavior after, am I allowed to leave Space Detention? I mean, I haven't even gotten to mess around in a library, so this kind of blows.

[ she smiles because she's kind of hoping someone will catch the reference. If not, then well: ] Or are we all waiting for some big, space musical number?

Are there even any boomboxes to hold up outside that red smiley thing's window? If it has one. [ seriously, what is up with that thing. ] Also, I guess it'd have to be this phone thing, since I don't have an iPod anymore.

[ She lets out a very put upon sigh before admitting something you never would have guessed!! clearly!! But it's followed by a smile that's all teeth and too much eyelash batting. ]

Okay, so I'm bored. And I can't really miss anyone who left, since I just got here. [ not even touching whatever's up with the masks. ] You'd think the aliens would be able to hook us up with better movie selections or something.

I don't suppose there's someone on here with something entertaining to do?

['Sup, Tranquility. This is a slightly awkward looking tiny redhead on the Network.]

Hi. I'm... James Rogers, for people that don't know. Um. [Despite his ability to make inspirational speeches from time to time? Yeah, normally... James sucks at talking.] For the people who arrived this jump, we have a group called the Avengers, and if you need help or are in danger and can't get through to the security team, just send a message to me - that's... 008 » 003 - the Hawkeye at 010 » 178, or Azari at 011 » 086. It doesn't matter what it is or when it's sent, we'll be sure to respond to it.

[That being said...] If I can talk to the head of the Security team - or one of the people in charge - that'd be great.

[100% private to his Avengers team with Anthony's encryption because James sucks at computers]
Meeting in 008 » 004 whenever we're all free, just let me know what works. [It's a sleep over, ladies and gents. And James already has the entire room filled with mattresses and pillows. He kind of went empty room raiding on his floor.]

[Same Encryption to Ult!Tony]
Is there a way to make it so Anthony can come? [p a u s e] I mean, unless you wanted to.

[Saaaame Encryption to Francis and Azari]
We're having a sleep over. [And neither of you are allowed to diss the idea because James sounds really intent that this is a thing and it is going to happen.]

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.

[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?

[Despite all of the incredible and sometimes unbelievable things that Wanda’s seen and experienced in her life, nothing quite prepares her for her arrival on the Tranquility. It isn’t even the fact that she’s unexpectedly woken up on a spaceship that throws her off-balance (though it's quite unexpected), or even the fact that time and space and reality seem to work differently there (because really she's sort of used to that). It's that Pietro isn’t there during a decidedly difficult point in her life (after-life?) that impacts her the most. She can’t remember a time they've ever been parted in such a way, and the feeling is extremely unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, she sets her communication device to broadcast her message in video. She's dressed in her Ultimates uniform, though only the top of the red leather shows on screen. By all appearances seems to be in her early to mid-twenties, with an unusual amount of confident and poise evident in her body language.]

Good evening, my name is Wanda Maximoff and I'm another of the recent arrivals.

[Of course, it's not her real last name, but both she and Pietro adopted it after breaking ties with their father, and it was far easier to go through life not reminding people that they were the children of the infamous Magneto.]

I'm looking for any information regarding my brother, Pietro. It seems that he did not arrive with me, but considering the nature of where we are and shifting realities, any news as to whether he was here in the past would be appreciated.

[She shouldn't really need to add that if he arrives in the future she'd also like to know, right? Surely everyone here has some common sense regarding such matters. From all of the FAQ's she's read recently, they seem more on top of matters than she might have expected of most people. Wanda pauses, and after a moment continues.]

Also, has anyone managed to determine how many different dimensions and points in time we represent on board? Which worlds are similar and which ones are clearly separate, for instance?

[She's curious, not just because of her own dealings with altering reality, but because she's hoping that someone will be able to give her a basic idea of who she's dealing with on board and perhaps even which ones are from worlds similar to her own. Mentioning mutants or any groups by name would draw attention she's not sure she wants yet. Not until she knows who's listening on the other end.]

[ The feed starts with a girl's comms device clanging to the floor from her bed hitting the "on" switch, unknowingly cast aside. She'd been surfing it earlier, trying to get a feel for the thing, but after hearing Darth Vader II's little message about "not being able to wait to see what they'd do next", she knew she had to get serious about leaving (not that she wasn't before... but...). Four days was more than long enough to be stuck on what basically amounted to the ship from "Aliens". ]

—this is getting into Avengers and Fantastic Four territory. . .

[ The scene is simple enough (from what you can see from a device on the floor, of course). The girl appears to be lost in thought, holding a staff.

This was way out of her jurisdiction. She had someone else to worry about. ]

Let's see. . .

[ and with maybe just a little bit of fanfare. . . ]

No place like home!

[ a cloud of smoke briefly obscures the room, before revealing...

The girl still standing there, only now she seems to be wearing a pair of ruby slippers. ]

Ok... so that one was a bust...

[ but she's not done yet ]

Earthward bound!

[ Again, what looks like smoke covers the room, and there's... an earth-shaped ball bouncing around the room.

She glares at her staff. ]

I didn't use a single one of these spells. Work, you p—

[ and the ball bounces on top of the comms device, conveniently ending the feed. ]

[ Gwen looks- well, pleased. despite the fact that she's unsure of a lot of things, feeling vulnerable in that she's not used to being the one asking questions instead of providing the answers, she has a small smile on her face, a little grin that makes it seem like she has very special information she wants to share with everybody. which she kinda does. she’s not alone on this video feed, oh no. she’s sitting alongside a new crew member who she may or may not have forced to join her in recording the transmission. ]

Hello, everyone. My name is Gwen Stacy and I'm a member of the science department here on the Tranquility. [ it was almost as professional as saying 'I'm the head intern here at Oscorp. almost. she'd get used to it. ] I have a few questions I need to ask, but first I'd like you to all meet my friend Peter, from home. This is Peter Parker.

[ she glances over at Peter now ( no pressure ) with those same big, expectant eyes she gave him when it was time for him to meet her father for the first time. ( no pressure ) ]

Uh, hi. [ Smooth, Peter, smooth. He was never the kind of person to make such public addresses, or really show up and present at all, but Gwen’s coerced him into this position, so he ends up with a small wave, before deliberately turning back to her. ] I’m Peter. [ Captain obvious as always, but really Gwen, you take the reins. ]

--Who might maybe, hopefully, be joining the science department too. Maybe?

[ she doesn't mean to laugh, but he's looking at her like she's asked him to explain his personal life in detail over the network or something, and she wasn’t expecting it. he's talkative around her, so it's a little funny to see him clam up in front of a camera. her nose scrunches up before she looks back at the camera again, her body shifting a little bit in her seat, like she needs to make herself comfortable again. there. good. okay. ]

Right, well. I just have a few questions to ask, if anyone might know… It- Well. My number has changed. [ she still thinks this is some kind of fault of her own, like she messed up somehow, got demoted. she looks a little sheepish about it, actually. ] Between jumps, my number changed from 008, to 012. I don't remember going home, it's not like I have any new memories, but I.. believe I've been asleep for more than one jump, maybe. Is that possible?

I only ask because it seems like a lot has changed since the last time I went under for a jump. People are missing, things are different. Not everything, just enough to pique my curiosity, I guess. [ she bites her lip ] And most importantly, to me at least, I was wondering if anyone knows what happened to my fa- Um. Captain George Stacy? He arrived about a month after I did, so he would have been an 009. If anyone has heard from him, please let me know.

[ In Peter’s case, he doesn’t really understand what happens when they’re not home, but it’s really off screen that he makes his movements, a slight squeeze of her hand as he looks for the right words to say and close off this conversation. ]

Also, if anyone knows of a dark room, [ Way to change topic there, Peter. ] uh, that would be great. [ Pause. ] Thanks.


[ red is Gwen, blue is Peter. replies will be coming from both! ]