[ On flips the device and the sound of rustling can be heard, followed by a frustrated sigh and Ariadne asking: ]

Does anyone know if others can gain access to your room? [ a beat ] Because something of mines missing.

[ a long pause and she is cursing under her breath. ] And no, I didn't misplace it.



[ the feed ends at that, as she is quickly going back to looking for her totem and trying to figure out what to do. ]

[The kid looks a bit different this time around. A bit more comfortable in his surroundings. Looking and sounding less like a brat and more... well, like the hero he is sometimes.]

So what is there to do on this ship? I've heard a few things about jobs, including... protecting people? Supposedly there's some really weird stuff that happens on board every now and then, and not everyone can protect themselves.

[He sets the communicator down, and steps back. And for those a bit more in the know, they might recognize the straps on his shoulders, the round edge of a disc strapped to his back. He's not unshouldering that, though, instead reaching up his left, gauntlet covered hand, hitting a button on the side.

With a slightly Star Wars-esque sound, a bright, energy projected disc is bursting out from his wrist, forming a large, see-through circle with red and blue bands, a large, white star taking up most of the middle. He raises his arm to further show it off]

I get that apparently you guys don't like kids fighting. But I have my own weapon, and I can prove myself pretty easily to whoever wants some help.

[His eyes narrow a bit, then, and he's pointing at the camera as his lips twist in a scowl]

And by the way? I want to talk to Tony Stark right. Now.

[ Charles turns on the device and it defaults to video. He has cleaned up, found his room, and slipped on the blue sweater he found in the locker. He has taken seat near a desk, where he has piled his belongings. He appears to be thinking, as the disorientation has worn off, but it seemed to be the time to ask questions. ]

I've gathered a bit of information about this place, but more can always be useful. How secure is this?

[ His expression softens and he smiles a bit. It's weird asking questions, but he has founded that his ability is not quite up to par with what it was at home. ]

I could use a better idea of the locations of this place outside of the passenger quarters. Is there a map of this place? I have not yet had a chance to explore this ship, but I would prefer to avoid getting lost if at all possible. [ He barely skips a beat before he continues. ] And is there a library?

[ He pauses for a moment, considering his next few questions. He really needs to talk to - well, people from home. Sort out what had happened completely. And be caught up on anything that he may be missing, since he is certain there is something. That is best left for private and one-on-one conversations, and he isn't certain how secure it is yet. ]

I think I will pick up a book, if they are here; however, I would prefer to know what people do here to occupy their time. Or what it is that needs to be done.

[ He reaches up to turn off the device. ]

I'm Charles Xavier, by the way, if you need to reach me.

[ ooc: Charles is on 008-095, and I am open to action if anyone would prefer. ]

[Eridan might be cured of space sickness, but that doesn't mean he exactly looks the part. Since his life hasn't been in danger, he's had some time to do the proper amount of wallowing in his pile, lamenting his life choices, his place in the universe, and also the fact that there are blood stains on the collar of his jumpsuit to match the ones on his tattered scarf. Which he's now wearing, practically up over his mouth. He looks kind of like the kid who sits in the back and complains of dying from allergies or something.]

I guess I should fuckin' thank all'a the people wwho wwent dowwn into that insane fuckin' maze shit for helpin' those'a us out wwho actually needed help. [Which totally wasn't him, okay, seriously.] So, thanks or wwhatevver.

But I'vve got more important things to be talkin' about. Firstly, [SIGNIFICANT ADJUSTMENT OF HIS GLASSES] the jump is comin' up soon an' that means that you could die in a painful an' significantly unglamorous wway. To keep from doin' that, you should look to be around the gravv couches about an hour or twwo before the jump actually happens. It'll givve you time to get your shit in order an' put some towwels out in front'a your couch so you don't havve to stumble around naked. Seriously, fuckin' do that. Nobody wwants to see you naked, or in your underwwear, or wwhatevver you decide to do. It's not hard. It's a towwel. You can put it right nearby an' savve yourself your fuckin' dignity.

Secondly, did... anybody die from the sickness or the maze or wwhatevver? It's an important question an' I dunno if anyone's already asked it, I'vve been recovverin' from my owwn terrible illnesses for a wwhile an' I don't havve time to just wwatch you creepily from my room. Unlike some people. [Dirk.]

An' thirdly, uh. I wwas kinda not in a good wway wwhen this last came up, but for fuck's sake, if you see one'a us trolls wwalkin' around - or typin' around, since that's apparently still an issue - givve us some fuckin' courtesy an' don't hassle us. Wwe got better things to do than explain to evvery single person on this ship that wwe're fuckin' aliens, an' yes the horns are real, an' no, wwe're not gonna cull evvery single one'a you for bein' fuckin' dumb as shit. That shit goes double for people wwho actually get that wwe use different quirks wwhen wwe type an' knoww wwe're aliens an' shit. [SHERLOCK.]

[He looks like he's about done - then he suddenly ducks his head and pushes his glasses up his nose again.] Uh, also. If anyone knowws a good wway to get blood outta sheets, that'd be pretty fuckin' useful here. I tried wwashin' them, but that didn't really... do much. [Looking disgruntled as fuck, he quickly switches off the feed to save from any more embarrassing admissions.]

[ The video feed opens on one of the rec rooms - specifically a bar area that had been left for passenger use previously, and Justin’s panning the camera on his device along the row of liquor bottles remaining there like showing off a finding of treasure. ]

After many days of hard searching and devotion of hours upon hours of testing structural beams for pole dancing, we’ve found it, Tranquility. A space for a space-club. [ Cue Justin flashing the camera back to him for a melodramatic 8O face before twisting it back to the drink collection. ] So now you can have a place to fully support your bad decision making away from the prying eyes of cops and lawyers and the morally righteous.

Where you can step out of your every day roles and responsibilities and into a carefree, non-judgmental, leave your expectations at the door zone. [ it is a significant prize, despite the gaps in the rows of alcohol. he runs his palm over a counter top, smooth and freshly cleared of dust (like the bottles) and he flicks what he imagines is glitter into the open room, before turning his eyes on the camera from where he's standing behind the bar. ] Just because we've all been abducted and infected (and to some degree traumatized) doesn't mean we don't deserve to have any fun while we're stuck here.

[ no what, he is copyrighting this gigantic fuck you, too smirk. ] We're opening our doors to everyone on board (save for the infants and the preteens with pacifiers glued to their tongues) to—

To drink your sorrows away, dance your sorrows away, use cheap as fuck pick up lines on people way too hot for you your sorrows away, whatever floats your boat, we really could care less. [ Said with a wave of a tequila bottle that he pulls out with a glass, going about setting up a drink. ] The only thing is, we need a sound system set up and a bar keep, seeing as, while I make a kickass margarita, I’d rather enjoy my youth and not be behind the bar at all hours.

Oh, and, pole dancers not included - so you’ll have to get your ass drunk enough to do that yourself.

We're looking for someone to rotate, between the two of us. As for the questionable matter of pay, it might have come to your attention that we're extremely lacking in the economy department. If donating your time to a worthy cause doesn't do the trick, we can negotiate the cost, barter our way to hell or you can realize that this job doesn't have a dress code or a zero tolerance policy on being shitfaced on the clock. [ this is his cue to snag a bottle of Jim Beam, twist the lid and join Justin in clinking their glasses together. ]

A toast, to the temporary end of the ongoing: what in the fuck is there to do on board, aside from staring at the wall and/or pissing away my time?

[ bruce does not much like posting on the network. mostly because it involves people looking at him, people not his team. but betty asked, and there's not a whole lot he won't do under that particular duress.

so he taps on a video feed, trying not to let how much this whole mess feels personal show on his face. ]

I know we're all tired and run down, but there have been some developments. Bet-- Dr. Ross and her colleagues have discovered some. [ he pauses, sighs. ] Some disturbing news. In the interest of full disclosure and transparency-- [ and isn't that politician double speak. he sighs, starts again. ] Sorry, habit. I'll try and speak plainly: none of this is reassuring, but we all at least deserve answers.

The creatures-- [ his mouth twists at that, but he doesn't stop speaking this time. ] appear to be a product of some kind of experimentation. Overwhelmingly-- by a margin of eighty percent-- their genetic makeup is simple, baseline human, but there's another twenty left that appears to be a cocktail of lion, dingo, and crocodile. Their organs were... largely human in appearance, with tweaks here and there. We can't tell you how or why just yet, but we can tell you they weren't doing well even before we got there. Based on the sample brought back by Mr. Clarke and his team, there was a high rate of malnutrition, as well as clear evidence of cannibalism. Whether that was by necessity or not, we can't say. What we can say is that they were most likely dying before we got there-- their cells were deteriorating, in what if I had to hazard a guess would be a side effect of whatever process made them into hybrids. There was also a shared high rate of some pretty nasty infected wounds, and I'd recommend anyone who was bitten or scratched and hasn't already done so should stop into Medbay and make sure they'll heal cleanly.

[ his back straightened during that little speech-- science is easy. now it's just bruce, and he takes off his glasses and cleans them on the front of his shirt, slumping a little again. ]

I wish I had more comforting answers, or even just complete ones. And to keep the hits coming, the computers in the newly cleared labs were wiped clean. We're looking into digging harder or establishing a timeline, but it's slow going. If anything new turns up, someone will make another announcement. Until then, it's hurry up and wait.

[ and as a slender hand reaches into frame to squeeze his shoulder, bruce cuts the feed. ]

( text | filtered to the axvengers ( and jarvis + betty ) | 95 % unhackable )

[ the feed suddenly jostles to life, but the owner of the device doesn't yet realize it. the view is obstructed by a hand and then it falls showing a row of bottles lined up. a clearly very manly laugh is heard and then an indiscernible murmur, while the words aren't heard the voice does sound very (very) drunk. in the corner of the picture, a bottle is lifted and a long drink is taken from it and then, clearing his throat, ] No. We... cannot do that now, Sif.

Why not? [ there's laughter in her voice, a drink in her hand, and her eyes light up at thor's refusal. she loves baiting him, just as he enjoys baiting her. ] I thought a prince such as yourself lived for adventure.

[ there's a long, thoughtful (haha) pause and then a sigh ] Because. It does not work as it should.
( Read more... )

[ The woman on screen is glaring down at her arm, a hint of black – her number – visible as she shifts. ]

I’ve woken up in some weird places before, but this is definitely the weirdest. [ She thinks. Her memory is, at the moment, still a bit fuzzy thanks to whatever was in those tubes, the “stasis” – she’s trying not to think about all the things that could have been done to her while she was out. Tattooing was apparently one of them. ]

Also, I found this in what’s apparently my locker. [ Her hand opens, revealing a switchblade. ] It’s not mine, but I’ve seen it before. If you know who it belongs to [ and there is a faint note of hope in her voice; she may be in space but this belongs to her brother ] come and talk to me.

[ That should be the end of it -- almost is, in fact, her hand reaching to cut the connection, but then Jaye pauses. ] He's my brother. [ And then it cuts out. ]

((ooc: WOW I HAVE THE BEST TIMING right after I post this I am informed that I'll be leaving the house soon BUT I WILL BACKTAG FOREVER))

[ the man over the network looks shabby, a little. run down, like an old shirt that somehow looks worn out no matter how freshly clean it is.

...and he is freshly clean, come to think of it. thanks, blue goo. it's been a thrill.

he stares down at his communicator, mouth tilted in a slightly awkward, out of practice smile. ]

So. This is space, huh? [ one nod, and he purses his lips. ] All right, then.

( t e x t ; s.h.i.e.l.d codes )

[ The communications device is switched on, the picture on the screen shaking for a moment as he turns it over, checks it's on, and pulls it back to capture enough of him sitting at the edge of a bed in the basic passenger quarter. There is a pile of folded up red, white, and blue, the Captain America uniform especially made for him and his needs sitting beside him, the shield lying beside it, which he pats occasionally as if to ensure that they are still there, holding onto what it is that makes him who he is, the belongings for the world he knows.

His expression is as bemused as his voice sounds when he finally speaks. ]

This is Captain Steve Rogers of the - [ There's a pause, a false start, because he's actually part of the SSR, but as it's top-secret he swallows it back. ] - US military, pulled away from the middle of duty, and I need to find a way to be transported back there immediately. [ The confusion is replaced by something more confident, stern, and with an air of authority. ] Lives depend upon my return. I have a war to help win and I intend to do everything possible to make sure that happens.

[ The video feed shakes, the audio muffled as his hands shift around the device, the microphone picking up the interruption, and he looks around the room, so small and basic, and with another bed besides the one he assumes to be his. And then he looks down to the clothes he's been instructed to wear, the number on his arm, which he holds up and makes a point to show. It reminds him of some of the horrors that he saw in the concentration camps, the branded numbers upon their victims, turned into numbers. ] And I don't appreciate being referred to as a number, I have a name and I intend to keep it. Even the soldiers out fighting for their country are recognised by name alongside their ID number.

[ wassup, tranquility. have a blonde teenager peering at you in a manner that best could be described as 'dreamy'. her hamster's still on the wheel, so to speak, but it just took a shitload of dramamine and it's going to take a little nap here in the shavings at the bottom. it's just resting its eyes, really. don't worry about it, go on with your business.

she has two Very Important announcements, so it's time for extra inflection. her voice is a whole three quarters of a notch or so above a monotone: obviously srs bsns is to be discussed. her speech sounds a little stilted, almost like she practiced it. ]

I'm sorry for Lord Tubbington. [ CRAZY SPINNING CAMERA ACTION as she flips her device to illustrate this point with a quick closeup of her entirely healthy looking cat, who is currently sprawled out in an untidy, napping heap on her bed. ] He has boundary issues. I'm making a banner to confront him about the pain his choices cause his friends and family now, but I need markers before I can finish it. [ what is she doing without actual supplies? it's a mystery. ]

And if this is the moon, where are the pies?

[ segues, she does them so well. will someone please explain to honeychild that all space != the moon. ]

[ Though he's been here for almost a month, Erik deliberately hasn't made a public comment, preferring to speak to almost everyone else first and foremost in order to assess the situation ahead of himself, and most importantly, come to terms with the fact that this is not Earth. He'd been mulling over what Kirk had said, as one of the earlier people he had spoken to, particularly the statement that things were different than what he was accustomed to. It's a considerable break from reality, because where Erik last stood was watching the world fall apart as he and several others had essentially outed themselves to the public, and earned a response he had correctly predicted. At least here, several years in the future if what he had learned was anything to go by, there was the possibility that Charles had proven him wrong; an admission he wasn't inclined to concede so early on.

Answers however, were slowly provided, and Erik was forced into a position where he had little choice but to re-evaluate a stance he had sworn by for several years. It was a defeat that had put him at odds with himself, having been forced to interact with not just non-humans like himself, but also humans. They were mere temporary allies, associates at best, until Erik had derived what he needed, piecing together a shaky network that merely served to relay information back and forth for his own means. To either deny the seeming equality that appeared on board, or to deliberately instigate what wasn't there and accept that there would be a conflict. ]

For those of you whom I haven't spoken to, my name is Magneto. [ His voice comes slightly off camera, as all that's deliberately being shown is the side of his jaw, the device loosely held in his palm while Erik processes his next move, tone clipped and to the point. ] It's fruitless at this point to deny one of the differences between many aboard the Tranquility; that there are both humans and non-humans here.

As one of the latter, [ Hope you're hearing that Raven, because Erik just outed himself. ] I intend on making it clear that while we're held captive together, I will not tolerate any exercise of dominance over non-humans. [ Admitting this on Erik's part is a cost because it conflicts with his own stance on how he sees society, one he's finally conceded will not change despite convincing; Charles couldn't do it, the others won't either. ]

That being said, [ Erik lets the device leave the comfort of his hand with only the slightest curl of a finger, raising it until its level directly with his face; just the barest hint of confirmation he needs. Lips curling into a smile, it's evident Erik can do more than just that, but he doesn't intend on letting it all come out immediately ] I'm inclined to put forth what effort it takes to ensure that all of us get out. [ A concession Erik has to make, that some sacrifices are necessary for the greater good, because while mutant superiority is likely to prevail, it takes a back seat to the situation at hand. ]

How many of you are willing to do the same? [ With that, he shuts off the feed, frowning slightly. ]

Private | Spock [40%]:

If you have time, I would like to speak to you in person. [ Vague enough, because Erik's ability to encrypt is absolutely terrible and he doesn't trust it to actually succeed. ]

Once upon a time, [ Kasumi begins, and she sounds thoughtful as she says it, though also like this is the conclusion of her thoughts and not part of an ongoing process, ] there was a man. It doesn't really matter what his name was or where he was from, since most of you won't have heard of it anyway. He did some work for a client that seemed relatively harmless at the time. And boring too, actually. When the work was done, he delivered it to the client and collected his credits and went on his way.

But, as it turned out, the client wanted to use the man's work for something the man didn't exactly approve of, even if he thought he'd gotten over worrying about that sort of thing a long, long time ago. So when he heard about it, the man went to a friend of his and asked, "What can I do?" And his friend said, "You can start by stealing your work back." And the man said, "What happens if I can't get it back?" And his friend said, "Then you find another way to get even, first, and then you make things right."

[ There's a long pause and then Kasumi exhales an almost-silent laugh. ] I'm not really one for thinking big ethical thoughts, so let's just leave it at that, okay?

[ He's tired as hell and not exactly in the best of health yet - there are faded red blotches dotted along his bare arms and exposed face and neck in between long streaks of black engine grease where the chickenpox sores are yet to fully heal - but Hotspur's in one hell of a good mood. In fact he is practically beaming down the video feed as he makes his announcement to the ship at large: ]

Hey, crew. [ Yeah, you guys are all crewmates whether you like it or not. Deal with it. ] I know we're all feeling pretty grim after the past couple of weeks so here's a bit of good news--

[ He steps aside and the feed spins wildly as Hotspur readjusts it to focus on one of the shuttles in the hangar bay. It's beaten up and still has a few exposed panels that need to be refitted but all in all it's looking pretty good. ]

The good ship Tranquility now has a second working shuttle!

[ Said with all the pride of a new father, which as far as Hotspur's concerned is kind of accurate. A quick zoom on the name of the shuttle - Spirit - that had been chosen by Kasumi several months back and daubed with pain-staking accuracy on the flank of the little ship by Hotspur himself. ]

Thanks to Tony's input we've changed up a few things while we were fixing her up so she's way speedier than the other shuttle. I reckon she's gonna make for a bumpy ride though - but that's what you get when you go for speed over stability. [ Not that he seems to mind. At all. ] But she hasn't been tested out yet! So that's going to be... interesting.

[ 'Interesting' here equates to 'exhilerating yet vomit-inducing'. ]

Starbuck, Joker -- I'm going to let you guys fight it out over who gets the honour of flying her out on her maiden voyage and who has to sit shotgun. But you better bring her back in one piece; me and Tony have got a little game of Space Tag to be getting on with.

( OOC NOTE: if your character has volunteered to help out with fixing up any of the ships down in the shuttle bay over the past four months then VOILA here is the fruit of your labour! Feel free to blag that your character helped out with any particular bit, even if it was just passing wrenches and making coffee. c: )

[Have one Jane, wearing a much too big shirt, and on someone's bed. Nothing too risque, but she definitely looks like she is wearing her boyfriend's shirt.]

Um. Yeah, hi. Just thought I should let the ship know I'm okay and that I'm sorry to be one of the causes of all the upset and chaos.

[ the feed clicks on and darcy's drumming one hand on the table in front of her, a little annoyed. alright, a lot annoyed. ]

So, the Tranquility.

I like to think I'm a pretty go-with-the-flow kinda girl, but after arriving in a tube of blue goo, immediately having my best friend and guide kidnapped, and then faced with ship mutiny and general chaos, I just have one question.

[ the hand stops drumming and she looks directly into the feed, lowering her glasses a little bit. ]

Who the fuck named this ship?

[ she's about to turn off the feed, when she pauses. ]

Also, just for future reference, is it always this definitely-not-tranquil?

[(ooc: hey guys, coming off of a hiatus I didn't really call or even know was happening, but yay, I'm here now! ]

[ The camera flickers on to reveal the ceiling to one of the passenger quarters. There is the rustling of movement and then, after, the image jostles and then wrongs itself to show a wisp of darkly colored hair and the pale sliver of a young woman's profile. She doesn't seem to realize the device is recording because soon, the camera is covered up by her hand, as well as the microphone, so her voice comes muffled and at a distance. When she speaks, it's apparent she's speaking to someone else there with her and not the device itself. ]

Do you think it best we show our faces? Perhaps they would be more willing to help us, were they to see our entreatments. [ The image jostles again, from side to side. A hand here, an eye there. Bits and pieces of a person, blurred by movement and dimness.

A second of hesitation is the only reply, first. There are too many tales of enchanted objects lying in wait, to steal souls and work other mischief. And they are none of them true (probably), but even so— ]

Yes. But we should carefully show ourselves. Do you know how to work the device to show pictures?

[ There is a bit of primness to her voice when the young woman speaks again; something like pride, albeit tempered by an attempt at humility. ] I've not been idle during my time here, [ she says. ] All the things I know, you'll know as well. In time, I promise. But first—

[ More fumbling and, finally, the picture sets itself to rights to reveal a young woman with burnt brown hair and a young boy seated beside. Were someone to look at them both long enough, they would perhaps notice something of a familial resemblance (though each will deny it, if asked). Setting the camera to rights, the woman leans over and whispers something into the boy's ear, the murmur too low to be picked up by microphone. Then, she nods, smiling faintly at him.

He looks to her first, hesitating—but then finds his strength and turns back, his chin lifted higher. ]

I'm—I am Bran Stark of Winterfell, newly come to this ship. I have been told a great many things of this place, some of them strange—but I am pleased to have come, and pleased to make meeting with the people here. [It is a route and studied response, a lord's response, somewhat stiff, and he looks back to her to confirm that it was well said.] My—companion, Lady Stone, has said that I might ask things of this device, and be give responses in reply. I am seeking my wolf--my direwolf, Summer. He is large, but he will not harm anyone. You have my word of that.

And a lord's word is goodly. [ The lady 'Stone' interjects. It was a lie, she knew as much, but this lord was honest and good. ] I have heard talk of animals aboard the ship. Of cats and dogs, alike. If Summer is here, it is of great import that we find him. A wolf does poorly without its pack. [ A pause and the girl dips her chin, pressing a modest hand to her chest in an expression of earnestness. ] We have little to give in exchange for answers, though we do promise our thanks and a favor in kind. The ship is vast and we're loath to explore without proper company, though— [ Again, she turns to look at Bran, her gaze flickering imperceptibly to his legs. Should they ask for Hodor? ] —though any offer of help will not be turned away.

[ Again, he hesitates—he can read the question in her eyes, and it is one that they have talked of, but even so, now that it comes time to ask— ]

There is also my servingman, called Hodor, who is also quite large and harmless. I should find him as quickly as I might. He is simple-minded, but kind, and— [ He looks down at his legs a moment— another quick glance at his companion— ] I am crippled, and require his aid.

[ There. It's been said. His ears go a little pink, his shoulders slump—it's a weakness he'd sooner not have revealed, though it would have soon been learned—and still, he keeps his chin high, as much a lord as he can manage. At the very edge of the picture it is visible to anyone who would take notice— the girl touches the boy along the edge of his arm, a small encouraging gesture as her hand encloses the round of his elbow, patting. And, perhaps she is proud. It is not small thing to admit. He continues: ]

Any help that can be given would be met with my earnest thanks. With our earnest thanks.

[ ooc; Alayne and Bran. ]