Wedge waited quietly at the front of the squadrons ersatz assembly room, watching and waiting as pilots took their seats. An eclectic and strange group, to be sure, but he was determined to mold them into a fighting force to be reckoned with. They had the potential. They just needed a push in the right direction. He took a breath, waited as the last few pilots took their seats, then began.

"Welcome. I'm glad to see that all of you managed to make it through our latest ordeal in good health, and I hope you've all had a chance to rest up and recover from the experience. First of all, I'd like to introduce you to two new members of our squadron." He gestured to the two people standing behind him and off to one side.

"This is Colonel Tycho Celchu and Lieutenant-Colonel Jaina Solo. They're both experienced pilots and they'll be helping with training and getting the squadron into shape. And to that purpose, I'd like all of you to go around the room and introduce yourselves so that they know who they're working with. Your name and a little something about yourself." He nodded at the first person who came to mind and waited for their introduction.

Nightmare becomes reality....

_{[roster: Leader - Rtas, Jacen Solo, Katara, Kyle Reese, Tim Drake / Robin, Bart Allen / Impulse]}

The JLA Watchtower. Hall of Justice.

Or it would be, if it hadn't been destroyed along with the rest of their world. No, this is an uncanny facsimile courtesy of the sensoriums. The room itself is little more than an encircling window that looks out into space, Earth looming below, and an Arthurian table with twelve chairs, seven of which bearing the insignia of its reserved champion.

One of them is already here and sits like he owns this place-- well back in his chair, chin out and arms folded high across his chest.

Tu ne cede malis, sed contra audentior ito.

Superman had wanted it engraved on the table, years earlier when they operated out of a cave in Happy Harbor. Batman had scoffed, but then, he generally did anyway. Only now that his old friend isn't here to give him the 'see? I have good ideas too' face does he genuinely consider it. He had been fighting this war like it was Gotham, like it was his turf, and now he sees the error. He's looking for demons in the wrong place.

So here he sits, enjoying a reprieve from glorified tech support work and waits for his pantheon.

[ooc: Meet and greet type deal-- start your own sub-thread and/or comment to others. 'Sup to you.]

At last, it seemed the new version of Rogue Squadron was going to be getting off the ground. It had been a good morning run, followed by a bit of calisthenics and some cool down time. Then breakfast and the squadron had been reassembled at the Sensoriums. Wedge looked over the assembled recruits, his helmet tucked under one arm.

"Alright. Today, we'll be starting with the basics. Take off, landing, basic flight maneuvers. Maybe more if we have time. You'll break into your flight wings and take separate sims. I trust all of you to do your best. If there are any problems or questions, you can contact me on the comm rings. Let's get to it."

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their number. After the recent revelation, many of them were even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Brainiac 5 and Sensor were set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

'Twas the day of Thanksgiving, and all through the meatship's cafeteria, real, well-cooked food was laid out on the table. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and a myriad of other foods had been prepared by Chef Stoppable.

No matter how spacious the ship seemed, it was easy enough to get the natural anxiety that came with being cooped up. Telling the man to roam about this place was almost equivalent to telling a large dog he was free to roam about an apartment: at first there's no problem, but after awhile it gets way too same old. You had to give him some kind of toy, figuratively speaking.

The subtle scent of leather, the grip on the steering wheel, the familiar hum of the engine; so this place could get the feel down right. Alright, at least the Sensorium was good enough to recreate his Lancia Stratos coupe and the scenery to match. Yes, nothing got rid of that claustrophobic feeling quite like a sports car on an empty street. An empty street in this good old city, now that was a stretch.

When Marco stumbled across the media library, he concluded that this had to be the best day so far on this freaky meatship.

Music. Massive screens. A giant, alien entertainment centre. And, most importantly - video games.

Marco was immediately drawn to the tall white box with the strange looking controllers. He snorted when he saw the name "Wii" (who though that was a good idea? The puns where almost too easy) but hey, this was clearly gaming of the future. Or gaming of a strange and bizarre alien race - it was hard to tell. Either way, it was cool, and Marco was so going to try it out.

He fished around for a vaguely interesting looking game, bypassing all the ones that looked boring (Wii Fit? Cricket? Imagine: Fashion Idol?! pfft), eventually settling on Escape from Bug Island.

Marco had been a bug before. Waaaaay too many times. Now he could squish them in safe video game fun.

But as Marco began to play, his good mood rapidly diminished. Who thought up this whole "swinging around the controller" thing? What the hell was going on with that animation?

"What the hell is with this?!" He yelled, as he tried to get the control to do what he wanted dammit. "This is nuts! GAMING OF THE FUTURE IS CRAP!"

[[ooc: For reference, this is the extraodinarily bad game Marco is playing.]]

After getting off the comms with Bart Rose rushed to pull on her suit, skimpy as it was at least she wasn't naked. Bart might not be a kid exactly but he was till one of those actually honest to god nice guys. She counted him as a friend and didn't want to shock him...

well not that much....

well not yet anyway.

So it would be that she found herself tying on the last string side on her hip when she felt the breeze of lil fleet feet's arival.

Cissie looked down at the red fabric in her lap and sighed. She had found it in the possessions locker, but didn't know what to do with it. It'd look silly on her with the plant suit, so she'd just kept it in her room. But now she had it out again, along with her bow and the other things she had from her hero days. She wiped a tear out of her eye as she pulled her hair back a bit with a bit of loose string. She then picked up the hooded top she had, and pulled it on. It fit over the plant suit, and it didn't look all that bad. Plus she liked the feel of the hood on her head. It helped hide her eyes from people.

She stood up suddenly, dropping her skirt and other clothing to the ground before picking up her bow. The Sensoriums molded around her to form the training room from the Young Justice cave. She aim'd and sent the first two arrows off without even blinking. One hitting, and the next moment the second cutting the first in half. She took a deep breath before picking up another arrow and firing it at the other two, watching as it easily sliced through the two in the bullseye.

"Dammit!" She threw the bow to the ground and stomped on it, fresh tears running down her face. "I wanted a normal life. Just going to school, hanging with my friends, and the occasional boyfriend. But then I had to deal with one friends death, and then Bart..." She felt her knees get weak and she fell to the ground on top of the bow. She held her hands over her face and freely cried. It was time anyways, she'd been holding it all in long enough.

Brainiac 5 had not met with the others. Glanced around to see who was there, if they were alright. Brenda is fine, and so is Koko, there had been no reported casualties other than the people from the Pod Caverns. Tragic, certainly, but not his focus at the moment.

B5's body had been placed on a clear work-table, and then Brainy had gotten to work. First, his casing had been popped open again and lay discarded for a time on a nearby workbench. Next, the casing of his face. One might think that it would be disturbing for Brainy to see the mechanics of his friend's face exposed like that, but if he does, he shows no sign. He works silently and methodically, taking apart the components inside his head, checking for any backups, any information storage devices--anything undamaged that he can salvage some code from. The backup he'd been given is severely damaged, and there's no way B5's personality engrams can be restored from it, but if there are pieces stored elsewhere, even just fragments, pulling them together into a coherent whole is a possibility...

This isn't an organic being, after all, where life functions ceasing destroy the core processor via oxygen deprivation.

However, his investigation uncovered nothing useful. All of his memory storage components had been reduced to melted circuits, his core processor is fried...

After calmly doing his investigation, the moment he comes to the final conclusion that there is nothing to be recovered, he calmly puts his tools down, and calmly picks up an empty work tray, and calmly tosses it into a wall as hard as he can, where it thuds against Stacy's flesh unsatisfyingly. His expression never changes.

Then he takes a deep breath and goes back to work, putting all the parts together again, snapping things back into place. After that, he tidies up, his role of engineer and coroner becoming one of mortician. Cosmetic repairs are done to B5's torso casing to make him more presentable for the funeral services. The mechanics of his face are set to lock it in a peaceful expression, like he's simply sleeping.

Brainy folds B5's hands across his chest, with the hand that wears his Legion flight ring on top. The surface of said ring gets polished until it glitters brightly and is prominent to the eye. The last thing he does is tousle his hair. Not out of affection--it's messy, and hardly presentable.

It isn't so much that he believes it matters, this ritual, this preparation. He doesn't. When he died himself, be it sooner or later, he cares nothing for what's done to his own body after. But B5 had wanted to be human, to be an organic being, and people were so funny about these things. About deaths and burials and culture and rituals.

This isn't done for Brainy--in fact, this is the last thing in the world he wants to be doing, and were he being himself, the pragmatist that he is, he'd be reducing B5 to his core components for later use. They are valuable.

No, this is done out of respect for the dead. B5 had wanted to be organic, had wanted to be human, to be treated as more than his parts. So it's a body Brainy prepares, before it's launched into space with the same pomp and circumstance that any other Legionnaire's would be. It's a body he eventually covers with a sheet when he's finished, a body that will never move of its own volition again, a body that will be present for words spoken about a being no longer there, that B5 will never hear.

Given the last instance, Brainiac 5 is glad that he managed to say all that he managed to say when he could.

And then, at the end, his hand goes back to tousle the blonde hair, sticking up past the sheet, of the young man that would have been his brother if they'd had more time to be family, and this time, it's not because it's messy.

[ooc: Please ask me on aim (psychicsaphie) or email before tagging: psychic.saphie@gmail.com. He'll likely chase out most gawkers or people who don't know him or didn't know Brainy trying to offer condolences, so you might not find it worth it to tag. Who he lets in the room sort of depends on who and on the first thing they say when they come in.]

The crew meeting doesn't take place in the Obs Deck like it usually does. It takes place in the Medbay, because that's where most of the crew is gathered, and it's plenty large enough. Those that are still getting treated can sit on the beds, and those that just need to sit can sit on the beds.

When the last stragglers rejoin the others in the MedBay, when almost all the injuries have been treated, the Bridge Team finally returns, but they do not return triumphant. Most of their expressions are somber. One of their number, Paco, has come back missing an arm, and quite a few have rather nasty injuries, black eyes, burns, and so on. Jaime Reyes' armor is healed over his eye, and though said eye isn't gone (well, at least it won't be for long), it looks as if it is.

But their greatest casualty is being carried by Brainiac 5 with a flat pane of yellow shielding like an impromptu stretcher. Robin lent his cape to cover the body out of respect, but the green hand of the robot Brainiac is visible despite it.

The organic Brainy peels off from the group to silently carry the body into Special Weapons Division, to place it on one of the work-tables, as if the room is now an impromptu mortuary. An autopsy of sorts needs to be performed, after all, to ensure with absolute certainty what he already knows--that there is no way to repair their lost comrade. He will be absent from the reunion, and most likely chase out anyone that comes in.

As for the rest of them, they need medical care, probably need hugs, and mostly just need to see that the rest of the group is okay. They also need to meet the new people--who need to properly meet everyone in general, really.

[ooc: MEETING THREAD. Everybody, start subthreads and tag subthreads. This is for new people to meet folks and get a few more explanations, and also folks from the different teams just to reunite with people and see if they're okay, and all that. After the reunions and all that, free threading will resume. EVERYONE would be here, most likely. By this time, most folks would probably have joined the others.]

They now know what they're up against: space pirates. Interdimensional kidnappers and ruthless scallywags, that hijack ships, and sell the ships themselves and their contents for profit.

Their spaceship is rammed through the hull of the bridge, they're outnumbered fifteen-to-one, and the pirates have some very shiny tech on their side. But even with Stacy suppressed, the crew has her on their side, as she's trying her best to hide them from view and not allow her internal defenses to be used against our stalwart Meatcrew.

Now, in the area outside the bridge, which is home to a wide open space surrounded by a network of hub tunnels and the like, the crew is going to make their stand against the pirates--and the success of this fight will decide the fate of the rest of the crew. It's not easy task, either, considering the powerful weaponry the pirates have at their disposal, and the physical strength, cyborg augments, and powers a number of them have. But they do have a plan.

Will Team GTFO succeed, reopen the ship, and be able to go back to help the others fight against whatever was released against them? (Is it already too late to help them all?) Or will they fail, will those Left Behind have to cross their fingers and hope for the best, will the crew be doomed to a horrible fate in the meat markets (both literal and figurative) of the of the pirate black markets known as the Chopping Blocks?

[ooc: As usual, old threads are still open. And subthreads will be left open so folks can tag them. For instance, even after the subthread with the pirates retreating goes up, the pirate FIGHTING can still be tagged. You can also tag multiple subthreads, since it's a big-ass brawl and you can do fun stuff like having your character flung across the fight.

OPEN FOR TAGGING]

Jaime Reyes was still alive, not that most of Team GTFO knew it. He lay still as death in front of Hal 9000, the scarab slowly working on repairing the damage he'd used to fake his death.

The only people that knew what had really happened were the telepaths. And they had some important information to pass on to a few of the others before anyone else got injured -- or worst, killed for real.

You have my sincerest apologies, but I have my mission.

The traps start. Rotating blades coming out of the walls and floors and ceilings, jets of fire, lasers, holographic enemies. The clear walls of the maze let them see what's happening to everyone else.

The traps start, and they have to stay alive despite them. If they stop avoiding them, it's their own fault, you see, if they die. That makes it indirect enough for Stacy's Anti-harming-the-crew protocols to be avoided, as Hal, despite his reprogramming, still has to follow some constraints.

Please commence with killing yourselves by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The only chance the group has is if they work together to stay alive, and somehow they have to take out the shield projectors creating the maze even though they themselves are shielded...

[ooc: Cooperation is key, people. Hal can only adapt to one power/skill-set at a time, not all of them.]

Team GTFO gathers in the Living Area Level, near what appears to be a blank wall near the Sensoriums, and now it's time to distribute equipment, go over the specifics of the plan, and get ready to commence Operations. With a capital 'O'.

There's a multitude of robot drones and other equipment about.


[ooc: Read instructions for these threads here! Edit: Srsly. Read 'em. Try to keep all the subthreads as one consecutive thread. Please?]

In her sealed, silent, sensory-deprived meditation room, Roxie is sleeping. It's a special sleep: for all dreams are connected, she knows, and by spinning her mind out along the web of thought, she might step into others...

[Roxie is dream-hopping, getting a look at the subconsciousnesses of the other people on the ship. So, how it works - if you're interested, go ahead and post with a dream your character is having, and Roxie will slip into it, subtle at first but more obvious as she tries to satisfy her curiosity. Just her being around will make the dreamer more lucid and more likely to remember the whole thing when they wake up.

Also, feel free to ask any OOC questions in a thread here, or poke me on AIM at 'anagramarye'.]

Jaime Reyes voice sounds over the comm-rings--all of them--and it sounds very urgent.

« Everyone on the ship, listen up! This is Jaime Reyes, your local 'Blowing this pop stand' coordinator and escape facilitation engineer. I need everyone on the ship to come to the City, in front of the Precinct, immediately. Grab people who don't have their comm rings with them--and tell them to grab their comm rings, people who are sleeping, whoever you find, and try to make sure everyone on the ship knows to come. This is very important. This is "getting the heck out of here" important. »

When they arrive, they arrive to find the Command Staff waiting, and a tiny, tiny young man standing on stone ledge from a fountain, waiting for them.

Here goes nothing.

The ship was a big place for the little gamin, and even after being here for quite some time, he still hadn’t seen all of it. He finally decided to take it in parts, on corridor one day, another the next, find all the holes, nooks and crannies and then make sure he kept them in his mind. It might not have been Paris, but for now, it was his home.

He walked along, his hat pulled tight around his ears, humming a made-up tune about eggs and women (of less than proper profession). Eventually he would memorize the entire ship’s floor plan, even if that day wasn’t going to be today.