They had been trained and now they were all on Oa together, periodically dispatched to go on missions for the war effort. It was not entirely unlike being on Stacy, and many of the expectations were the same. They were to look out for their fellow Lanterns, defend themselves, and try to defend the innocent.

It was becoming readily apparent that certain things were not right on Oa, though. The Zamarons seemed to be hiding something within their crystalline headquarters, and the Oans themselves only relayed information through Green Lanterns to the crew, and seemed to be brusque even when talking to their own people.

There were whispers of discontent and concern among the Corps on Oa.

The briefing was, well, brief, given the complicated situation they were being thrust into. Stacy tried to give them as much as she could but apparently her intel on this universe was rather limited.

For this reason, they were dumped rather unceremoniously on a vast planet, with grassy green fields, the dropship that dropped them off retreating on autopilot and disappearing back into the transdimensional ether. It was a lovely planet at the very least, with vast deep blue skies, teeming with vegetation, but oddly, they all would likely find themselves dealing with the unnerving inkling feeling that they were somehow being watched. There were no sentients or even animals in site, however.

The only thing they could do right now was wait. They had been told that they would be found, that they would be offered rings, taken into these different Corps of people, and they they needed to make sure the war ended in a way that didn't devastate life in this universe.

That was something of a tall order.

[ooc: Go!]

Apparently, despite the destruction of worlds and the loss of countless lives, the Daligig saw fit to save 221B Baker Street of London. Mind you, it wasn't his and John's version of the flat, but it was a version of the flat, all dressed up in full Victorian-era glory. The furniture was finely made and hand-carved, but not horribly different from what it was in his world, the two chairs facing each other as they should be. Books were scattered all over, though they were hopelessly out of date in regards to modern science. Apparently, the alternate him opted for a pipe over cigarettes and nicotine patches, some other John had a medical practice downstairs, and alternate Mrs. Hudson didn't take as much umbrage with him leaving dummies around hanging from nooses in the kitchen. The union jack pillow was even there on John's chair and there were bullet holes in the wall, only they weren't arranged in a smiley face, they were arranged in the letters VR.

Apparently some alternate version of himself had a bit more respect for royalty than Sherlock did. Or a bit less. Hard to tell.

There was no television, of course, and there was no electricity, only the fireplace, which was currently devoid of fire (though there was some correspondence stabbed into the mantelpiece with a knife) but that wasn't what he missed the most about home, so it didn't matter. What he missed the most was doing what he'd spent the last few hours doing: napping naked in his bed, cocooned in some rather luxurious sheets.

It. Was. Glorious.

In fact, it put him in enough of a good mood to deal with people, so he reached over the edge of his bed for his omnicom, lay there tapping off a message, and fired it off, feeling too comfortable to even realize he hadn't quite been specific enough in his missive to communicate his true intentions, which were to meet the detectives of the Security Team, not any amateurs.

Yawning, he got up to putter around the flat still wrapped in his--"his" bedsheets, looking for the suit jacket he'd cast off in the sitting room, so that he could get dressed properly. What he wasn't expecting was for someone else to be there, which was why he froze in place.

[ooc: Open threads in this are open to any detective types that might respond to Sherlock's post. This is not meant to be an entirely open post, though, it's mean to be open to mystery/detective types or those interested in mysteries and detective work so they can have an meet n' greet.]

Billy is hard at work on the teleporters, trying to ensure that they're all in working order. They'll have to move through the ship quickly if they're going to carry out these plans. He's walked through most of the common areas of the ship today, testing both by himself and with a backpack of items of various sizes. One of the items is his datapad, kept to ensure he always has something to work on during the cooldown periods.

So far, everything seems to be in working order. He's run a check at each station: he trusts Ronnae completely, but there's always the concern that the system could be tampered with. If it's malfunctioning, he needs to catch it early.

Unfortunately, his streak of good luck ends with a snag. Upon warping into the Hub, he finds that he no longer casts a shadow. A look down confirms that he's no longer visible. Oh well---it could be worse.

He shrugs and resumes his work in silence, the only visible sign of his presence being the tools floating in the air just beside the pad.

[Teleporter fun post! Any of the malfunctions listed here are fair game to play with.]

[OOC: Bendytimed to shortly after Podpop, before Survivalist ends and before Mother Knows Best begins]

Jonas finished typing on his omnicom and published the invitation to the channel, then switched to a new window and resumed fiddling with the program he had been working on.

It was an open-ended invitation, but should something come up that needed his undivided attention (like an attack, Brainiac 5 making contact again, or Cassie wanting to do something with him) he could always edit the post with the new information.

Some of the people coming in might be surprised to discover that the head of Programming looked as though he had been programmed himself in the past. Jonas had considered giving them a heads up on that subject in the invitation, but had ultimately decided against it. If they could not cope the surprise of a synthetic person, they would likely have problems coping during a fight; and he would like to know that ahead of time so he could place them most effectively.

So he sat at his workstation and waited for his first arrival.

Who: Spinelli and you!!
Where: The City
Summary: Having an overactive imagination may not be the best thing when you get lost in a strange city.

( Nobody ever said the Jackal was good at directions. )

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicomms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicomm. New crewmates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that), a large afro attached to a smaller girl, and talking ponies among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in. But thankfully this time, there's a system that was set up to aid the new crew members with a few more experienced ones.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies. Big brother/sister, there will be a thread for you as well!]