[ a rare video post. irene's wearing her tweed suit, hair twisted elegantly up on the top of her head. and she's smoking a pipe while she perches at the end of the bed. not her bed, because even though the camera's tight in on her face, the scraps of paper on the wall most certainly aren't something irene adler would indulge in.

her decorating habits are much classier. ]

I've been here for eight jump cycles. Quite a bit longer than I'd ever anticipated, but what can really be done?

[ and it isn't as if irene has anything to go back to, but she's hardly about to say that. ]

Suppose I manage the next four and make it an even twelve. I wonder what one does to celebrate aboard a...spaceship.

SON OF A BITCH!

[Surely no one on the Tranquility has motion sickness. If you do, sorry about the view you're getting of a very shaky camera feed of Wilee pedaling as his life depended on it down the halls of the ship, cutting sharp corners like a pro. It's obvious he's scared out of his wits by something. Maybe it's Smiley, finally showing up in person. Maybe it's some space monster that somehow managed to get on the ship. Maybe it's...

...an angry turkey. Well, that explains the fear. That shit is scary. It looks angry as it flaps its wings and chases after Wilee, no matter how fast he pedals. Fuck you, human on a bike. It wants to peck your eyes out.]

WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME? I WILL TURN YOU INTO A SANDWICH, SWEAR TO GOD. I'M TIRED OF SHIT COMING AFTER ME.

[So, this last jump? Aaron got a gun. Just walked up to his locker for his clothes, clicked it open, and there it was. Sitting on top of his leather jacket, a few cases of ammunition behind it.

He really missed his gun.

Which is why, today, he's not addressing the network through text. Instead, he's sitting in his room, a single gold case (it almost looks like cigarette case) hanging around his neck, face serious and posture... well, it almost looks a little threatening.]

I need to know how often people from your worlds show up, people you know. When one person ends up here, do other people follow? That sort of thing.

Also... I need a chemist. [His expression tenses a little, almost darkens] Consider it urgent.

[There's a quick pause, and Aaron's lifting up the handgun he'd been given this jump, wiggling it in plain view of the camera.]

People from Outcome... Byer? You know what this means.

[And, almost looking smug, he leans forward and flicks the feed off.]

[ Behold! On your screen is a whole plastic box-case thing of Reese's minis, the gold foil wrappers of each bite-sized piece winking in the horrible eye-blinding indoor lights of the ship. There's actually a reason for Isaac to be taking a video of an incredibly boring thing, though. ]



I found these in my locker after the jump. It's well over ten pounds of Reese's minis and is seriously too much candy for one person, so I'm giving a pound of these to the first couple people willing to sing Rolling in The Deep on the public network. [ No, really. He means it. ] And is there anyone on the ship who is Canadian and can play hockey and/or lacrosse? I've got my lacrosse stick and three balls to shoot, but not enough gear to really play. Or have anyone to play against.

[ There's also another thing, but it's slightly less boring. It's also a bit tricky, since it involves the monthly fur problem. ]

I'm also thinking of camping out on the gardens for a couple days, are the gardens back to being mostly safe again?

[ The feed starts. ]

Hey, this is September. Please don't dissect me, thanks.

[ The feed ends.

It starts again several hours later. The boy appears shaken up, actually shaking his head at the screen as he readjusts his posture. His partner's next echoing words: "No one is out to get you, you moron." Apparently he remembered that small lecture over this short range of time, so here he is again. He rubs at his neck that appears pink from pinching. Making E N T I R E L Y sure this still isn't a dream, it seems. Or something worse.

So, he tries to fix his small stumble there. ]

Right, I was kidding before. Hah. Okay, I'm September and don't attack me. Thank you. [ That works, right? ]


( P.S. Permissions post for dream eating, thanks! )

So, look, I get everybody's all jazzed about that list or whatever, and people wanna do the mourning thing. All good, have at it.

What I'm wondering though, is what we got working to find out who helped the dead dude get that way. Still pretty new around here so I don't know what you got rigged up already, but where I'm from something like this happens we mount up before there's a dead guy number two.

[ so that was... kind of a job application. if you tilt your head and squint. and to seal the deal. ]

Wouldn't mind helping out.

[this is surprise.]
Oh.

[this is distress.]
I - I... uh - fuck -

[this is panic.]
I need - fuckin' son of a bitch I need, um, someone here, right noww, the pool - [there's a little gasping breath, followed by a more sincere attempt at deep breathing. eridan doesn't even try to sound Okay at all.] Someone's in...

[and finally, the verbal shoulder-slump of defeat.]
Someone's drowwned in the pool.

[this is not what he wants to be doing right now at all, in the slightest, he was just supposed to look around real fast, just a quick look before he kept wandering, there wasn't supposed to be anything wrong.] I need John Wwatson. 001, uh, just the 001. An', uh. Shit. [there's the sound of frustrated typing for a minute, then,] 002-215. That one. I need both'a you to... Talk to me.

Someone else come help me. He's definitely...

[there's a long pause here, almost a minute, and then:] He's been here for a wwhile. There's nothin' else to do.


[002-215, Neal Caffrey and 001-197, John Watson are getting a notification every minute for this post until they respond.]

((OOC: way to brutalize the /small tag, whoops. anyway all responses voice, it is completely likely that anyone who knew Sherlock will get a pretty clear idea of who Eridan's referring to with such a dramatic call-out to Neal and Watson. uuuhh other than that yep that's it Sherlock's dead guys.))

--No, no, okay. Theeeeeeeeeeere it-- it's on.

[ jenna slumps triumphantly back on the bed, landing in a not terribly graceful heap. it takes some serious hardcore dedication to boozing to get a vampire hammered, so while there's only one bottle in sight, more are out of range and spectacularly empty, with a few extras waiting in the wings.

she starts talking with the particular drunken air of someone continuing a conversation. ]

So, okay. We don't have movies-- not the right movies. There is not a single copy of Bridget Jones in there, I looked. Twice. [ she holds up two fingers, wiggling them a little. ] And no Titanic, which is required viewing for cliche emo nights, because-- hang on.

[ she stops, lifting up the bottle in her hand and draining almost all of the rest of it. impending sobering up is not something she wants to deal with right now.

and now on an entirely different thought. ]

Anyway. We should just make our own. 'I'll be back.' [ well, that was the worst arnold impression ever. ] Or 'I think we're gonna need a bigger boat'-- added benefit of irony because oh wow, do we not need that. Smaller would be better, here. A lot smaller.

You know what else we need? Doritos. Ranch ones. Or oh my god, Nacho cheese Doritos with nacho cheese glop and jalapenos. And Ben and Jerry's. And a barbecue place, while we're at it. [ beat. ] All right, who do I have to sell my soul to if I want say-- a vat of pulled pork and fixings?

...Right, and since I'm torturing myself. [ brb draining the end of that bottle. ] Any particular food cravings you're having? Don't skimp on details, I'm in a very masochistic place right now.

[ when the screen turns on, there's the face of a very pretty ginger — pretty but annoyed. she looks like she's done this a hundred times. maybe she has. maybe people will recognize that. or just her face. she hopes. ]

Right then. Enough of this rubbish. My name's Amy Pond, and since apparently nobody's in charge I can't really ask, 'take me to your leader; I come in peace.' And all that.

[ a beat, as she takes a quick glance around. come on, she's on an spaceship. it's got to work at least once. ]

So, I want to know if anybody's at least seen an alien wearing a bow tie. Except he doesn't look alien, he looks human. He's called the Doctor. If he's out there, then he better show his backside right now.

[ she looks like she might cut the message short right there, but another thought occurs to her. she lifts her eyebrows, lips pouting into a perfect 'o.' ]

Oh, sorry. Err, one more question. It's actually really important. Did anybody here come from Canada?

[ dear tranquility, you really do not want to even know this exists. your life could be so much better if you knew this didn't exist. tony's life (and sleeping patterns) would be so much better if he didn't know this existed. basically, this shouldn't exist but it does because tony stark likes poking his nose in things he shouldn't. alas.

in any case, tony has been sitting on this since he watched and listened to it after he got out of his pod and presented it to his ragtag team of superheroes + people who...aren't superheroes. if he's being honest, he thought about keeping this information to himself, because what good is it going to do. it's just going to make people panic when who knows what it actually is. then tony remembers a time when he didn't know something, he remembers when obidiah didn't tell him about that situation and he remembers how much it sucked to find out after the fact. so after a talk or two (or three) with individuals whose opinions he trusts (well not so much in riddick's case, but eh) he's finally decided on what to do.

before tony says a word to the network at large, he sends an audio clip entitled: that's not just static. what everyone will hear if they choose to listen to it is a loud screaming static that you'd think would come from the jump, nothing particularly scary, but when you listen closely you can hear actual human screams over the static. needless to say it's not a good thing. ]

Tranquility. Hi. I'm going to take a wild stab at guessing and say that we're all not blue and...most of us are alive except for that one dude who made the mistake of being stuck outside the pods when we jumped. Sucks to be him, obviously. By the way, new people, hi, those pods that you tumbled out of, yeah those are kind of important. Kirk will give you the run down on that because I'm definitely not the approved greeter.

What I am here for is to send you that little audio clip. For those of you who just hated that screaming static and shut it off before the interesting part, there's human screams in that little bit. I don't know how in the fuck they're there, but trust me, that's some human screaming going on right there. I'm ninety-nine point nine positive that's not from the dead guy if only because that seems way too obvious. [ also because his suit was nowhere near him at the time. ] So do us both a favor and don't try to even claim it because, yeah no.

That being said, I believe we can all safely say that this ship just a little creepier and I, for one, am kind of hoping we avoid any of the nice and devastatingly interesting occurrences that have happened on this ship like fucking clockwork every month. Seriously, one month of downtime wouldn't go amiss right now, I'm just saying.

[ private voice, stark encryption 100%, sent to natasha romanoff, thor, topher brink, captain america, jarvis, bruce banner, and riddick, and betty ross ]

None of you are to even breath a word about the video portion of this. This is already going to make people panic, and I'm not in the mood to be tossed out of airlock because someone decided to think that this was all my fault because our resident creepy shadow thing looked in the direction of where I was watching him. Until any of us know what the fuck that thing is, that's staying on the downlow.

And that goes for you too, Riddick. I know, shouting disclosure but mass panic not exactly what we're going for here.

[ irene adler is holding holmes' pipe between her teeth. it's perhaps a sign of her nerves that she isn't even the least bit smug about it, but that's nothing she'll admit to. ]

I'd like to talk to my Sherlock, if you please. And the good doctor as well. Though I do suppose I may as well invite the whole mess of you into this discussion, as you'll no doubt find your way into it regardless.

[ for the record, the slow string of what has to be cursing, judging by the tone, is in klingon. sulu's trails off, and there's a chink of metal on metal, a low sound of disgust and then... ]

I...found a body.

[ his voice is so very carefully composed. because starfleet officers are supposed to professional as fuck, and sulu's saving the freak out for later. ]

Can anyone identify 006.072?