Right outside the gate device on the Obs Deck, quite inconveniently located for people with a tendency to trip over such things, lay a large tome.

On the front cover, a face sat rigidly immobile. Eyes shut, mouth frozen, it might as well have been simply drawn on for all that it showed no reactivity to the environment or external stimuli.

To those who know the Overlord, well, that book was indeed the Sacred Tome. But was it still Zetta? For all intents and purposes, the Overlord appeared to have checked out.

[Just the start of a little plot. Respondents are encouraged to thread in pairs, because the book won't be responding no matter what you do.]

So she wasn't wearing her suit with the wig and mask right now. In a way, during the attack, she understood that maybe it just didn't matter as much anymore. Coincidentally, it was also when she was beat up the most. Even when she had faced that messed up Cain fucker after Sasami, she hadn't been as injured as this. Being thrown against a wall, shot a few times (thank you barrier jacket) and straining every part of her body to its max would pay a toll, and with everything being so wonky, the Overlord's healer hadn't gotten to her.

So here she was. In med bay. Barely conscious.

And she still needed a new cook, damn it!

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!]

Day three of the tournament. With less than half of the entrants remaining, and many of them having grown substantially in power with their conquests, the fighting was building to a fevered pitch destined to end in a crescendo of glory. But this far out, it's still anybody's game...


[Results are due by the end of Thursday. Contact me if you need to know your power gains for the last round.]

The first day had cut the participants by half, though to the meatship's undoubtedly great relief, most of that half had not been culled from their own ranks. Technology and magic together had been combined to heal the wounds of those who had suffered in their first rounds, and those who wished to make the attempt could play with their new powers or toys, to see how much they could adapt to their uses before the next day.

The cameras never stopped following them, never stopped rolling. (Except for the bathroom, but otherwise, don't strut around your bedroom naked.)

The next day dawned bright and clear, bright and clear being the prevailing, enforced weather pattern of the castle's particular biome chunk.

No sooner did the Obs Deck descend to Arena Planet LXIII, and the crew allowed to disembark, than they were met by a veritable cloud swarm of cameras. Sleek, elegant things that might have been living, might have been machines, maybe were even magical... but were definitely nuisances as the swooped around to capture video of the crew at all conceivable angles, close up and far away. Their every move from this point on would be on camera.

In front of a small crowd of retainers stood what appeared to be a great circular orb whose only distinguishing features were a nose, and what appeared to be the most overblown mustache ever, which actually appeared to be supporting that two-foot-diameter orb at shoulder height to a tall man. Then the orb took a couple of steps forward,revealing that no, those were actually just really, really hairy legs. A seam cracked open on the creature, and in a voice loud enough to echo across the broad open plains without any need for amplification, it bellowed, "AND NOW! STRAIGHT FROM THE TRANSMIGRATION NINE VESSEL! OUR NEWEST COMPETITORS! FRESH TO THE STAGE OF BATTLE, BUT NO STRANGERS TO WAR--"

It went on like this for some time.

Under cover of this introduction, a small man that to all appearances seemed to be the love child of Richard Nixon and a particularly aggressive Furby stepped forward, and in a bored businesslike tone recited, "Welcome to the tournament. There will be one battle per day. The arena in which you battle will be determined by random draw. Our medical crew will perform all healing necessary and ensure no deaths so feel free to not hold back. Please refrain from accepting any bribes or favors from on-planet spectators--"

"--ARE YOU READY?!" the orb bellowed even louder than before, completely swamping the smaller man's recitation. "THEN STEP THIS WAY!"

And so saying, the orb and its procession began a clearly well-choreographed procession towards a large, medieval-looking fortress that hung dramatically just on the edge of clear vision. (Conveniently, this procession passed several large advertisements.)

Who: Sandy and YOU!
What: You can't leave me behind if I outrun you.
Where: The City
( Healthy coping mechanism? )

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!]

Despite the uproar that had taken place only a day earlier, it was all quiet at the Susono Inn. Well... mostly quiet, anyway. It was home to some of the most stubborn crew members on the ship, almost all of whom had gotten involved in the brawl with the Kessek.

Allenby's arm had been broken. Simon had taken a hard one directly to the ribs. Zouichi would probably take a week to get back to real fighting form.

And Howard... well, it would probably take Howard a while to recover from what had happened.

[Visitors welcome!]

Less than an hour after the ship leaves Agrestic's orbit, an announcement is broadcast throughout Stacy.

|| Attention, crew. Your crewmates, Howard Bassem and Charles Merriman, have been apprehended attempting to desert. They will now be given Punishment. According to established guidelines, you are all requested to report to the Observation to witness the Punishment. Attendance is not mandatory, but highly suggested. This will serve as a reminder of the consequences of treason and desertion. ||

On the observation deck, Archon Yavek, Archite Rekkti, two other Daligig and a handful of Kessek soldiers stand outside a spherical force field. Inside the bubble, Orc and Howard are suspended by tentacles looping around their wrists. Orc's ceased thrashing around and struggling against his restraints; rust-colored fissures have developed around his shoulders and forearms from the strain, but now he simply hangs there, looking defeated. Howard's nose is bleeding, and every time a drop falls to the bottom of the forcefield there's a small sizzle. He's weeping and begging the Daligig with every plea possible, but they act as if they aren't listening. Instead, they wait for an audience.

Hana had, of course, been napping when he’d felt something that stirred him.

( [follow me out towards the horizon] )

“I missed you.”

**********************************

Hana was laid on one of the patches of grass in Ruffnut’s garden, grinning madly up at the sky. He’s completely immersed with chatting the ghosts around him, which obviously means to a lot of people he appears to be laughing and joking with himself, but it seems Hana couldn’t care less, because his face holds a look of total happiness.

It's shaping up to be another average day on the Transmigration 9. Crew members are going about their business as usual and all is (to most appearances, at least) about as "well" as things ever are on the ship.

Some crew members are going to be stopped out of the blue by impact with a force field.

"Attention Crewmen: You have been chosen to participate in an experiment!" GLaDOS's voice informs. They're not alone, someone else that was nearby is also caught within the same narrow radius. "Participation is mandatory. Please try to relax and enjoy the experience, as this will improve the quality of the test results."

Clearly this is going to be a wonderful day for science.

"You and your new scientific partner are now on a date," GLaDOS goes on. "As it would be detrimental to our study of the date experience if you were to be separated, you must remain close to your partner for the duration of the experiment. This will be enforced with the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field. Prolonged exposure to the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field may have unexpected side-effects. While any side-effects encountered will be documented and your desire to offer yourself to science is commendable, it is not a necessary part of this experiment."

"You will be informed when the test has been completed. We would like to thank you in advance for your full cooperation in the experiment and failure to attempt to foil it in any way."

"The experiment has begun, so you may begin dating."

( OOC Notes Below Cut! )

People dealt with things in different ways. In Mindy's case, she had continued severing people in the cafe. The hours were rough, her sleep patterns shifted, and she had told herself to take it easy after the ejecting from the Sensoriums by Overlord Zetta. Much like a bartender though, working in the kitchens meant hearing people's conversations, and that led to the topic most people were talking about: the Daligig, the former crew and the inevitable fight for the ship. This wasn't just gossip: it was legit information, and while she could skim over Howard's really long summary, it was Allenby's that hit home. Sure, she had that dumb phobia about tech that was irritating, but she was truthful.

And that meant training time had to happen. NOW.

She didn't waste any time either. Quick to the Sensoriums, Hit Girl costume on and the simulation began ten minutes after intense push ups, stretching and a little running.

She learned something in the past few weeks: the only way to really train yourself was to push, and that push had to keep going and going and make you better. So now she was back again against the Daleks, testing her ability to dodge and run and make things fall on them. Then came that duel with Aqua, where she got much, MUCH better with a blade. Then she was back to attacking SAINTS and the hark robots, making sure there were twice as many.

But the grand finale? Shadow Zetta, unstoppable, merciless, and constantly coming at her. Even in the aftermath of broken robots and a beaten Aqua, she couldn't come close to landing a hit on shadow Zetta that mattered. Yet here she was, going at it again and again, and somehow, the audience were smug looking members of the Daligig, looking like Ceasars at a lion feeding.

Somehow, he'd gotten himself into a bet. He didn't even really remember how it had happened or how they had gotten on the subject. But then suddenly the bet had been accepted and it was too late to back down, and now he was sitting at the very same Mess Hall table Sakura and the others had been sitting at the other day while they'd been discussing the source of the ship's mystery meat food supply.

To be fair to Sakura, he'd picked a shade of pink to match her own, natural hair color. But the results were... jarring. Also, hopefully no one would recognize either of them.

Strangely enough, even after the events of the past few days, Zouichi had not developed an aversion to the ocean. Or axes! Or giant squid! It helped that he, unlike some of the other crew, hadn't been in imminent danger of drowning. He was, however, busying himself with preparing some of the food they'd bought on shore leave, as well as supplies salvaged from the Deepstar 7. No sense letting it go to waste, right?

He'd started work in the early morning, and gotten so absorbed in what he was doing that he didn't quite notice that he was making more than was absolutely necessary. What? Cooking was relaxing. And anyway, he thought as he waited to pull a piece of battered shrimp out of its cooking oil, someone would probably eat it all. For the people living in the inn, he was careful to set aside boxes of prepared food. But there was an increasing amount left over...

Stop by, enjoy your ridiculously overprepared lunch. Or just a simple one, if you're an acquaintance. The front door's open!

There was only one destination in mind when the war started: work. Billy had dashed down to the transportation tubes, arriving on the first floor when he'd hit a snag: a robot swarm already assaulting the Med Bay and Special Weapons. But that wouldn't stop him: his coworkers and friends could be there, and the lab could easily hold the key to fighting back. He'd struggled and shoved his way through, roughed up very well by the time he crossed the threshold of his lab.

The hordes were closing in. Only his guns and a narrow doorway stood between Billy and death, and so far it seemed that death was gaining the upper hand. Would there ever be time to cobble together a better solution or escape? He doubted it. Not unless help arrived for them.

(ooc: Defend the laboratory? Your characters can be trapped with Billy rigging together some kind of defense system or trying to get through to him. If it gets bad, though, they might all have to escape and blow up the tech...)

There were ten around the building. There were fifteen or so at the door. There would be more once the shots started firing. No magic, no lightning, no super speed: just bad ass normal fighting power, and whatever actual skill they had in hand to hand combat.

Oh, and weapons. She had stored and fashioned some weapons. You don't have Hit Girl live someplace and expect it to be without some firepower and bludgeoning weapons. She had done this over the course of a few days, back and forth from weapons and possessions: she smuggled them as Mindy, just so she wouldn't look conspicuous too. Blades of several shapes and sizes, pistols capable of shattering through skulls, a mace or two, staffs with blades at the end, a spiked bat: Hit Girl's paranoia, which had amused Ruffnut at the time, was now about to pay off.

Now, to lay out the plan to actually getting out...

((Hit Girl, Ruffnut and Hana are in her castle, about to fight their way out. Open to anyone passing by, but especially to a certain afro sporting Wunderkid...))

The next few hours when on without much problems for the ship. Life went on, and in fact, seem to be going for the best. Of course, the saying goes, if it's too good to be true....That's probably because it is.

Late at night IT finally made it's presence known and spoke.

( And speak it did... )

[[OOC - Planning post! :3c.]]

It had started as an idea, a silly little idea.

When Sandy had grown up in New York she'd heard tales of the famous Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade from the older people around the neighborhood. And on the news they ran reruns of it, but the constant pouring rain and the security issues had made the parade a thing of the past.

So...with a little help from Stacy's history files and the Sensorium Sandy was going to experience the iconic celebration first hand.

The world seemed to explode around her as the Sensorium took her command and noise and color swirled around her.



Music was booming and people were dancing. She fought her way to the front of the crowd and naturally, had the best seat of in the house as the parade began. She saw her breath in front of her and summoned up a mug of hot cocoa to savor as her eyes twinkled with delight. Dancers in tight outfits, balloons bigger then anything she'd ever seen, and everywhere people were laughing and smiling.

It was a New York she'd never known, a New York full of hope and joy.

A New York full of love.

[[OOC: You don't have to interact with Sandy if you don't want you can just come on your own or with friends and family to enjoy the parade]]