[ The view is of a casually seated man, the comm filming him from a skewed angle on his desk. He never takes much care about how he records these things on the network.

He'd tried to ignore it, and he knew speaking up might not lead to anything—for all he knew everyone on the ship was going to have him singled out as a crazy man after he made this post. But he wasn't one to stay quiet, not over something like this. Not after the last couple of months. ]

Okay, this might sound weird, but well, you know. Not like this is the most normal place, or anything. You know how we all went through some of the same stuff for the last couple of months? Insomnia, and all that? Well, now I'm getting flashes—not dreams, 'cause I'm awake, and they're kind of too real...almost like... Well, it's hard to explain, okay.

Anyway, I'm wondering if anyone else has noticed something like that. 

[ Some of you knew. Some of you didn't. If you didn't, you're about to find out. ]

Party! Party at blue base today! Please bring chips!

[ And suddenly, with Caboose's limited social skills and expansive technological wisdom, everyone who listens to his abrupt message receives a poorly drawn map leading to one of the holodecks on his floor. If you decide to attend the ridiculous event, it's been entirely made up to look like Blood Gulch— Well, poorly made up. But it's somehow interactive enough to allow entrance of the Blue Base, where Caboose has creatively fit boxes and chairs underneath the holograms to make the tables and chairs somewhat functional.

Just be sure to bring your own drinks because that punch he's been holding onto is looking a little dark. And not in a good way. ]

[ The feed clicks on and he's standing somewhere familiar. To him, at least. And maybe a certain group in particular. Because in the background is Blood Gulch. A poorly pieced together, why is blue base painted entirely blue and why is red base painted entirely red, Blood Gulch. But, close enough for it being Caboose, right? ]

Hello, everybody! I am Caboose! I would like to invite you to a party at this holo-thingy. That will not have any cupcakes or chips, but I did find some punch! I do not know who it belongs too but I figured that we might be able to be friends and maybe share it with others. Like with me.

[ cough cough ]

Anyway! You are all invited! Please bring snacks! Thank you!

[ There's absolutely no preamble as Jayne settles in to say what he wants to say. ]

Why'd I get weird porn in my locker? Is this what y'all look at here?

[ Because he does not approve. ]

[The feed flickers to life, leaving a fairly weathered face yes he has a face staring into it, appearing rather unimpressed. It's the first time he's used the network for his own transmission, though he's viewed enough at this point to get the general idea - this is how people around here communicate for near any purpose. Now that he's getting at least a little more used to things, he figured he might as well give it a shot.

Plus, it leaves him with at least a chance of seeing if what he'd heard from a certain source is right, if there really are people here that he already knows - people from his "universe."]

Guess I've been here for about two weeks now, so I might as well make myself known, or something. [Considering he's been keeping to himself since he arrived, and since his encounter with Epsilon. He's not exactly the outgoing type, but he figures he at least might learn more about the place if he talks to some of the people who've been here for god only knows how long.]

I'm Agent-- [A pause, in which he purses his lips and releases a breath.] ...I'm Washington. If it really matters to anyone. As I said, I've been here about two weeks, so I guess that makes me one of the new guys. I've been looking around on my own since I got here, and at this point I'm fairly certain I've at least got the basics on the place. Even if the whole thing still seems entirely impossible. I've done space, but I've never been kidnapped to another universe and trapped on a spaceship with no memory of actually arriving. [He deadpans, then shakes his head and wonders again why he's doing this. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, even to himself, he...might be a little starved for some conversation. Though he's already certain he's going to regret this decision.]

Anyway. I'm here, that's about all I wanted to say.

[He scoffs at himself, realizing this was even more pointless than he'd originally expected it to be, and swiftly cuts the feed.]

[That's a really nice view of a kitchen ceiling popping up on your comms. Forgive the 90's kid for his lack of experience in smart phones - or maybe don't, because it might just be he's too lazy to hold the thing up while he's talking. Or it might be where he's busy rifling through every food cupboard he can find, his talking punctuated here and there by the sound of food packets being investigated, shaken around, crinkled.]

Not that I want to disrupt all the great work you people've been doing here, but those two assholes you think are in charge - you checked they're human? Might wanna label it some post-traumatic shit, but recent experience has given me a healthy distrust of taking anyone as they appear. And it'd explain this situation better than any of the vague mysterious bullshit you've been going with so far.

[There's a pause, then the sound of a box of something or other getting torn open, and yeah, when he talks again he's obviously doing it around a mouthful of food. It's been a rough couple of days, and he's hungry. It's also good for covering up any glimmers of actual concern in his voice as he carries on.]

I'm missing some people. Yeah, you heard it all before. But you see a short bug-eyed freak called Casey running around, do me a solid and point him my way.

[[ooc: backdated to early on the day after the jump!]]

[ fuckin'

impurities.

— yes, the phantoms, the wretched sinful ghosts being led by the mysterious guardian of this zone, of this ship. apparently they think they can just magically NOT SHOW THEMSELVES after he went through all that trouble of ARRIVING RATHER GROTESQUELY for whichever reason whatsoever.

anyway.

he can't be bothered to ponder over why he doesn't have his add-ons with him here, amongst many other peculiar things.

(— like why these inhabitants don't look like genuine elsen inhabitants?)

honestly, he needs them to stand a longer chance in battle against spectres of any sort, and yeah, purification is pretty much dominating his mind right now. his best bet would probably be to ask this community of people at large if they've seen it, utilizing this... device.

so what you're getting, residents of the tranquility, is a man who looks like he just walked off a baseball field, avoiding eye contact with the feed. his cap is tilted at a low angle, and there's something in his hands — too bad it's cut off from plain view. ]

...I'm looking for the Alpha and Omega.

[ he looks down once before barely meeting the camera again. ]

My bat's clean.

[ ooc | he'll read the faq if someone links him. seeing is not believing, however. ]

[Joker...really isn't sure what to make of any of this. He's glad there are familiar faces on board the ship but that really doesn't help with the fact that it's not his ship and he has no idea who's flying this thing.

Being in the pilot's seat offers that safety and comfort that most wouldn't understand. Plus, there's no EDI around to talk to which is a bit devastating.

But at least Shepard's alive...right?

When the feed clicks on Joker's leaning against the wall, taking a break from walking but it's not like he's going to admit that. He's been wandering and trying to get a look at things where he can, really not liking being so in the dark about any vessel that he's on.]

So how the hell does one find out who the pilot is and meet them? You know, just for my own peace of mind.

[He straightens up some, hiding a wince as he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and back again.]

I mean, maybe everyone else here--which hi all you people that I don't know and have no idea where you came from!--

[The sarcasm is strong with this one.]

--is cool with not knowing but I'd like some confirmation that it's not so crazy alien bug reaper thing driving us around preparing to 'harvest' us or something.

Just saying.

[ click! video starts recording, and here's kasukabe carefully setting the camera down on a table, making sure it's angled up. once he sees it's recording properly, he waves a hand into the camera. ]

Hello.

[ and then he reaches down, picks something up, and sets it down on the table so the camera can catch it:



yes, that is one of the rats from the gen lab jury-rigged to a huge, ghetto-ed together battery strapped to its back. despite its evident frankenstein-ification it doesn't seem uncomfortable; it snuffles quietly at the camera, wiggling its nose. the light embedded in its tail glows steadily. ]

This guy doesn't have a name yet. But if you see him around, don't be alarmed! He's very docile and I'm testing out how well he can act as a scout or retriever. He won't bite or attack people.

[ pause. ]

I guess he might be a little slow to react, so if you accidentally step on him or something, let me know. He should be able to take a little wear and tear, but just in case.

Oh, and if you have any name recommendations I'll gladly take them.

Ladies and gentlemen of the Tranquility, good evening.

[From the video, you can see Albert is seated somewhere in the oxygen gardens, on a wide-open patch of grass. He looks somewhat contemplative.]

I have a-- a somewhat personal question to ask of you all, so don't feel compelled to answer if you don't wish to. [He seems to hesitate, and then he plunges ahead quickly, as if he must ask it before he loses courage.]

How many of you here believed yourselves to have passed away before you woke up in this place?

And-- for those of you who don't want to talk about something quite so morbid, maybe you could tell me what year, or what country, or planet you come from. I'd... really like to hear about other people's homes. As for me-- I'm from Paris, France, the year 5053.

I've also got some tea and plenty of cups to go around here in the garden, if you'd prefer to speak in person. I'd welcome the company, and the chance to meet all of you.

[ For the entirety of the invasion of Iraq, Brad has been wishing for just one mission, one legit recon mission that makes use of his skills and talents. He didn't get one then — but the days since his arrival, he's run through the entire range of his skills. He's done basic reconnaissance, he's stayed out of everyone's way and watched, he's appropriated food, weapons and ammunitions beyond what he'd found in the locker.

Person would have a fucking field day with this, but Brad's conclusions are still tentative. Time to reach out to the local populace: ]

Brad Colbert, Sgt. of the US Marine Corps. My social security number is none of your fucking business, I don't care what the Geneva Conventions say. Any devil dogs aboard?

[ And after a moment's consideration, he adds: ] So. Space?

[ York's a lot more subdued than he normally is when he appears on the network. He's been thinking a lot about his conversation with Wheatley about the apparent jealousy of the ship's AI. He'd taken it for granted for too long that D had been left behind. ]

All right, so, here's the thing. I've been looking for someone every jump, someone who was real close to me. His name's Delta. So happens he's an AI. An AI who lives on a data chip that was physically implanted in my body. See, in my way of thinking, that makes it a little different from him just being missing, okay. Whoever brought all of us here, had to take his chip out of my neck and put it somewhere. And the more I think about it, the more I don't want it just lying around here somewhere.

Point is, I know there's a search party forming to find some of the people who have disappeared. I've got skills that can help you, if you're all willing to help me look for D. If you're in on that whole that whole thing let me know if that sounds like a good deal.

Been here almost three months now, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. Almost none you get it. And by almost, I don't mean some, I mean one, and maybe that's even pushing it.

[ As much as he considered taking the opportunity to full on shout at his comm device in video, Peter still can't find it within himself to splash his face on the network. Especially not right now, when he's busy splitting from any idea of reality. It doesn't really help matters that he's aware this he's bound to be in disagreement with... oh, maybe everyone? You don't exactly get to tell people they don't exist and expect them to like you.

Now, it's time for a reality check. For everyone else, mind, not him. ]

This isn't real. It's never going to be real. I don't even know how many of you are real, but nobody really likes hearing that they might not exist so we'll just stick with the basics.

[ Does it sound like he's being condescending? That's because he is. And he doesn't actually care all that much anymore about potentially hurting someone's feelings. ]

I don't care if you've got reasons, I don't care if you've got explanations. Everyone comes up with some way to convince themselves that what they're stuck in is actually reality. Give someone too much time and something they can't pick apart and eventually they'll tell themselves whatever they have to, just to make it all make sense.

But it doesn't. It's not going to.

And before you even ask, no, I don't think it's a nightmare or a dream. Or even a hallucination. So no, I don't need to get shipped off to the psych department to get my head fixed. [ He's particularly growly about that one. ] It's a construct. It's supposed to look real, and unless you've been in one, I wouldn't expect you to know the difference. Looks real, feels real, it's supposed to make you think it's real.

And fuck, if this one's working just a little too damn well.

You won't believe me, i've already got that down. Nathan's got some of you wrapped around his finger, I already know that much, and I already know what he thinks about all this. But I know a different Nathan, and I know one that'd do things to your brain that you wouldn't believe. Doesn't get any better after that. You don't get fixed.

You get his public service announcements and now you're getting mine.

I don't think this bullshit is real, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.

[He and Tex are not having the best of luck, unfortunately. The sounds of Tex banging on/trying to force open the lift may be audible in the background, but the transmission is unclear enough where it probably just sounds like more noise mixed in with the static.]

Okay, sh ---- floor of the passeng ---- ding to floor 14, but ---- et back on. Can someone c ---- ight now?

[ Unlike the only other post Ladon's done on the network, this one isn't meant to be video. It is anyway, though, because failure with technology comes as his second nature. Either way, Ladon's lounging in his room, enjoying one of the few glasses of Fir whisky he has left from the bottle that showed up in his locker. And for once he's not all buttoned up and formal, his shirt's in the laundry along with his vest and tie. He's also going a few days between shaves now to keep from running out of what he has.

So hey. Undershirt and stubble. You're welcome, space anonymous. His hat's still on, though. It may as well be glued to his head. ]

So. Puttin' aside the unpleasantness of mooks here killin' or threatenin' to kill animals who ain't done no harm... Got a couple questions for you folks.

One, ever notice somethin' here similar to your world? We ain't got none of this blinkin' business back home, but I seen some things here similar t'the station I was on before. Wonderin' if it's just coincidence. Or if space shit's the same 'cross the board.

Two... [ He pauses a moment, sets his glass down and turns it a few times in contemplation. ] Wonderin' 'bout those holodeck things we got here. Anyone know how they work?

((OOC: Ladon dissected a roomba today thus why he needs to wash his shirt and such. He put it back together again before setting it free, but you're likely to find the poor thing hanging about on the 11th floor, running into walls and going in circles. Not good with technology, remember? ENJOY YOUR DEFECTIVE ROOMBA, TQ.))

Sup, Tranquility.

Handsome Jack here. Just arrived, what, like a month ago? Yeah. So. I think we got to talk.

You know. Get everything real nice an out in the open. Not a huge fan about airing out dirty laundry, but it's best to put this out there now rather than have to explain myself later. There's two people out there that tried to murder me when I got here, and I figure they'll keep trying for as long as I'm here... You might be friends with my buddies- and I say this sarcastically-Lilith and Mordecai, and they might say some things about me. Why not hear it from the horse's mouth?

I got nothing to hide. It's story time, kiddos. Gather 'round.

( Story time. Enjoy this manipulative son of a bitch. )