[It's late at night, which is exactly what Sentience wanted before making a post like this.]


The Engineers do not take anything seriously. That's simply the way they are; they have a tendency -- not a personal tendency, but a racial tendency, wired into their brain functioning -- to laugh at painful or difficult topics, to treat them lightly.

But even taking cultural differences into account, it is... cruel, isn't it? To take out their boredom on the people here. This is supposed to be a place where criminals can live out their sentences in peace. Everyone here is a person, not... a toy.


[Sentience still seems troubled about the fourth wall.]

[ Thanks to Acumen's intervention, there is now a stage set up in one of the bigger parks in Sector 4. Volunteers and bots are bustling about making sure everything's in place and are helping spectators to their seats. Talents are backstage, making sure their costumes are alright, voices warmed up, instruments properly tuned and strung.

Please make yourselves comfortable, gentlepersons and gentlecreatures, as you all celebrate a night of music and laughter at the Marina Talent Show.

The night is not quite over as refreshments are also provided, and the equipment are still available for use, should you be inspired to pic up the mic for some prose or song, or dance to the lingering music~ ]

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OOC Guidelines :
Tag in with your character with any of the following headers (sample post here) --

[ Performance ] - for performers so as critics and fans can tag with their appreciation.
[ Open Mic ] - optional for non-performers and set after the show; have some poetry reading? Sing a song? Bit of a dance?
[ Audience ] - talking with your seatmate? Keep it down though~
[ Mingling ] - hanging out with others pre- or post-show! Give a friend a pre-show pep-talk! Help out someone who spilled soda on themselves, etc.~

Mingle post! Have fun! And some music for mood~

---

[There is a soft, exasperated sigh before the boy finally starts up his entry. Very obviously annoyed if you couldn't tell by the swearing.] So, apparently there are ninjas in this miserable shithole and I fuckin' pissed them off... This so isn't funny.

Anyone got a paperclip or something I can use to pick a lock?

[If you're listening closely you may hear a distinct rattle of chains. "Miserable shithole" because despite the fact they had damn near everything here in comparison, it still sucked to Helix. He honestly felt a little cheated here, he was a big, nasty criminal, why was he being treated so well? Wasn't he supposed to be on death row or something under stricter surveillance than a friggin' ball and chain?? Nevermind the fact he really shouldn't be bitter about this... Right. Lets pass the time with idle chatter shall we? Cause he doesn't feel like dragging his ball all over the dome he's too wounded for that crap.]

So. Who here has actually killed someone? [A pause for effect and a slight, mocking twist to his tone.] C'mon, don't be shy. We're all just criminals here.

[The man on screen shouldn't cut a formidable figure, all legs and arms and skinny as he is, with wild hair and Chucks, of all things, matched with a semi-casual suit. Yet, somehow, he gives the impression of great age and authority, even when the viewer knows that in this place, any power he might have could mean next to nothing. He takes a deceptively casual stance, leaning against a convenient tree, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. His tone is equally as casual, conversational and almost friendly, though if one pays careful attention, one might notice the sharp edge of anger underneath.]

I really ought to be very cross with you lot, but I'm finding it a bit difficult considering you had the decency to save my life after you kidnapped me. Granted, that may have been partially an act of self-preservation on your part. Can't have your prisoners wiping out a good portion of their immediate surroundings when they die, can you? How did you manage that, by the way? I distinctly remember dying one moment, and then the next ... I'm not.

But! I digress. Who do I see about getting this new fashion accessory of mine removed? Acumen, wasn't it? A ball and chain really isn't me, literally or figuratively. It seems rather excessive, honestly, considering the other security measures in place, not to mention you didn't bother with one when I got here. Why now, all of a sudden? I assure you, I cannot hold my breath long enough to attempt to swim to the surface.

Oh. And one other thing. Think very, very carefully before answering. What did you do with Rose?

[So there's a naked blue chick in the computer labs, leaning on one elbow and milking the computers for all they're worth as well as the communicator she's kept on. Hacking the available resources is the way to go to get the information you want, right? So you bet your boots she's listening to (all) the broadcasts today.

Get too close and get side-eyed. If the room starts to get busy she'll shift her form to something a little easier to blend in, preferably Jean Grey. Just because Logan likes it. But for now she's just reclining and putting up her feet. First glance's free, second's going to cost you.]

[a low, male voice] It's getting real boring around here lately.

Even the new arrivals aren't as interesting as they used to be. All the flailing and all the distress has just sort of become quiet resignation! Boring, boring, boring. [a more tenor male voice]

[and finally, a sweet female voice] Oh, darlings, that's a little harsh. It's in the nature of such creatures to become more efficient and less chaotic, don't you think? They're beings of order.

They could be orderly in a more interesting manner, couldn't they? [this voice and the female voice giggle together, sharing in the joke]

Well, regardless, we've decided to spice things up a little.

Yes, that's right! We love some good chaos. And we had some good chaos a few months ago, so we thought -- let's do that again!

Do try to have a little bit of fun, won't you? Go with it, enjoy yourselves! Try to smile every now and again, it's healthy.

[there's a brief pause for the three of them to giggle together, before the sly tenor adds]

Oh, and-- Whining is dreadfully boring. We won't put up with any nonsense like that, so we'll entertain any questions or comments, but if you want to chat, please make it -- you know. Something interesting?

VIDEO ▶ ACTION

[ she's been spending much time observing the communicator since she's arrived, refraining from appearing until now to gather as much information as she needs (though really, the brochure that came along with the basket is already more than helpful). but at least now, she knows who to expect to react when she decides to show up. ]

My, my.

[ lottie smiles malevolently widely, crossing one leg over the chained one and leaning forward to the camera. behind her is a familiar view of the park. ]

So I suppose even pretty girls get chained up even before they get to do anything. How terribly unforgiving.

But I do wonder now what I'm being chained for. [ she tilts her head slightly to one side, her smile now lopsided. ] Big Sis hasn't committed anything gruesome since 100 years ago after all. [ a pause. and then -- ]

I know! Why don't we play a game of 20 questions? Perhaps Big Sis will find out the reason that way. [ she giggles. ] And perhaps more.

[ Sherlock Holmes does a good many things upon a whim. Including breaking into apartments at feeble hours of the bleeding morning.

Of course, if it weren't so atrociously simple to do, he might not have bothered.

After he's in, curiosity does urge him to go and look first at the dark-haired man asleep in one of the bedroom's two cots. The flashlight pans over the scruff-bound figure. Sherlock can tell he's a habitual runner as well as a drinker. His grooming is obviously something to be desired. This is the defense attorney? He can believe it, but the man must be comfortable with being out of practice in such a state.

He moves over to the other cot.

There's a tap of black leather across the arch of a pale cheek, and fluorescent light warming the back of the former prosecutor's neck. Sherlock has dug one of his gloves out of his pockets while keeping the flashlight tucked under an arm. ]

Edgeworth.

[ Tap tap. ]

[The video begins almost completely dark, only a few slivers of light shining through as the sound of splashing water is heard. There's a quiet grunt as the darkness lifts--shown to be blue fingers covering the camera--and Kisame's head and shoulders come into view as he hoists himself up onto the observation deck. The view spins dizzyingly from his communicator tumbling away, knocked aside as he clambers up the rest of the way; he's soaking wet and dressed in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, hair hanging in dripping, drooping spikes around his face, but he looks quite pleased with himself in spite of the bedraggled state.

The camera is sprayed with water as he gives himself a brisk, dog-like shake, but even through the distortion, he can be seen--sideways though the view now is--drying his face and hands on a towel left near the rest of his clothes, and the massive bandage-wrapped length of his sword. (And yes, it is a sword, even if it doesn't look like one. It looks more like a club than anything else, topped off with a long skull-pommeled hilt. At a good six feet long and a foot or two wide, the weapon is probably larger and heavier than most people.) He scoots further away to bend over a paper--some sort of map, from the looks of it--and start drawing, expression set in concentration, muttering to himself on occasion and grabbing for a ruler.]

That ought to do it.....

[ It's beginning to become dark outside, but he's hardly cared to notice. In the Education Center, most of the lights have shut off, save for a few that are in a lab. What appears to be a distilling apparatus has been created, along with a few other experiments. Those that pay particularly close attention to feed might be able to hear a small humming in the background. This is the lab's fume hood.

He's still feeling fatigued from the spill he took a few days prior, enough so that he isn't wandering far throughout the prison. Sherlock loathes being stagnant, though; more than he disdains talking to people, even. ]

I've been hearing that there was a warden in place before Acumen. Are there any among you who know about it, or have been here under its regime? Inquiring minds would like to know.

Also, if the Head of the Defense Force is about, I should like to speak with them.

(( OOC: For action posts, you might catch him in the lab, looking through a microscope, checking equipment, stirring random things, or taking a smoke break outside of the facility. ))

[It's late but Mushu is wiiiide awake. Why? Because after several days of sleeping in trees and in random patches of grass, Mushu has decided that he is going to find a bed fit for a Guardian! Well, an ex-Guardian. Problem is, he doesn't exactly know which houses and rooms are empty and which ones are occupied. The thought of a room having furniture as being occupied hasn't really hit him yet -- he's just going along the assumption that all rooms naturally come with furniture.

He'll just explore until he finds one he likes.

So he's slithering around, a thin red shape not too noticeable in the dark. Mushu kind of wishes Crickee were here. Nothing like a little henchman to get things going faster. And the cricket was a pretty handy lookout. But unfortunately, he is all by his lonesome and he's got to act according.

To his right is a building, rather unassuming in nature, with a window slightly ajar. Exhibit A. With considerable speed, he makes his way into the building, peering around for whatever might be inside....

( misc ooc notes! )

[ It was getting dark when Sherlock left the coffee shop, and by the time he'd pushed through Sector Five's clothing shop (atrocious task, and of course nothing has sleeves) the hour was growing late. He was about to give up and just head back to the Shelter when a hard wave of vertigo sent him snatching at the racks and going down. Oh.

For a moment, he had sat among a swathe of brightly colored shirts, ringed by a metal trolly that held them up. He did not panic; did not think much at all, in fact, beyond the way the room swam, until he suddenly could. The inevitable was happening. His body was failing him. There was a brief debate as to whether or not he could possibly make it to the shelter before his motor skills began to fail him, all the while clambering out of the mess while the world stood still. Thoughts after that were fogged and unimportant.

What's important is that, for better or for worse, he's laid up on the bench of one of the fitting rooms. He's tall, so his torso fits and the rest spills off. Somewhat on his side, eyes shut, dead to the world. Patches - practically pale enough to blend in with his skin - line the underside of the visible arm. His instincts had the good sense to shut the door behind him to afford him some privacy. He didn't lock it, though. ]

[His morning had been a less than amusing one. From the new freaks in the prison to Wright stealing his communicator--more like confiscating it, as if he were a child--well, Miles had had enough. You can find him in the coffee shop now, his features sour. At least this place served tea. It was decent enough. Occasionally, he'll take slow, savoring sips, but he's in a pretty foul mood. That's what happens when he doesn't get enough sleep. Approach at your own risk!]

Hello…? I think it works!

Uhm, I’m not sure what to say to all of this, to be honest… It’s a lot to take in all at once. That’s why Miwako waited to use the communicator until she was done crying. I think the first thing to say is “Thank you” to the welcoming committee for the lovely basket~ Miwako wasn’t aware that prisons had welcoming committees, or gave out jelly beans and hand lotion! That’s so considerate~

But you know, I never knew I was a criminal before – I guess most people Miwako knows are criminals, according to all this! I wonder if George is already here... He must be a super criminal, because he’s very popular and bisexual, but also drives a Jaguar! Sally is only a Cub, and Miwako still got arrested. They should have just given me a ticket, though…

In any case, I should introduce myself! My name is Sakurada Miwako~ It’s nice to meet you all, even under these circumstances… Is anyone else from Tokyo here? Maybe we’re neighbors~!

I wonder how many people in Tokyo are actually replacements for criminals, though, and no one knows it… I bet Arashi won’t be very happy with replacement Miwako… Poor Ara…

[he's been sitting in the library, orienting himself; he thinks he's gotten a good grasp on the situation and that it's safe to use his communicator to chat. Charles is meandering through the library as best he can with his restraint on, observing the stacks]

From the Ivy League to the CIA to the big house. [a little laugh] It's quite an unexpected leap. I have to say this reading selection is a trifle lacking, but I suppose that's to be expected... Other than the material in my welcome basket, of course! That was quite appreciated. I love the sunglasses, they're a nice touch.

[--he is more than a little disoriented with his telepathy sealed off like this; things he could normally have picked up in seconds are mystifying him. but even though the welcome pamphlet talked about "powers", he's not comfortable just casually talking about that in public. he mulls over how to put this into words, and finally asks cheerfully]

So, come and tell me. Who else is, or was, excited by all this far-out technology? I can't be the only one who was astonished to see half a dozen computers in this library, each of them small enough to fit in my arms! And these communicators, they're amazing, just -- really amazing.

[It's early, as in very early just barely past the morning announcement early. And where is Richie?

Inside the coffee shop of course. Where else would a guy be when he's been trying to keep himself awake so as to rewrite from memory every single experiment or schematic he had drawn since arriving in Marina. Having a photographic memory with a brain that holds information like a million gigabyte hard drive isn't a bad thing--usually. Except for when you have to copy it all down.

But who needs sleep anyway when there are so may other things he could be doing with his time? And coffee is much better than the little "pick-me up" pills he'd invented--or at least safer.

Just don't disturb all the coffee cups in front of him that have been stacked into a pyramid or the papers that look like someone spilled ink--and maybe coffee--all over them.]

[ He's silent for a moment. This new memory -- no, it couldn't be a memory, but -- well, it came out of nowhere. Except that wasn't true, either. It came from somewhere in his brain, which meant either it was a real memory or a hallucination. A bad reaction from the stimulation, maybe made worse because of the vicodin? ]

Stop the carousel, Chase. Ate too much cotton candy and now it's time for little Timmy to get off and vomit.

[ And nothing happens. He's still hallucinating. Mmkay. ]

Hey. Moron. It's not working, as in, time to stop.

[ Inspecting the weird digital S&M mask he came equipped with now, as he continues to ramble in not so much a nervous way, but in order to walk himself through this bizarre occurrence of sci-fi and crime drama. ]

Yeah, yeah, I get it. Under the ocean minus the reggae and sexy redhead mermaid. Sounds like the opposite of fun. [ another brief pause, as he grunts and fails at trying to get up ] And where the hell is my cane?

[The video flickers on to reveal Sebastian bending over and placing something on a long table. Once he's standing it is easy to see that the table is nearly completely filled with foods of all different types, both fancy and common. His attention is focused on both the camera and some place that's out of the camera's view - he takes his attention from that for a moment, though to address the camera with a smile.]

Good morning, everyone. How are you all? You will have to forgive my interruption to your day, especially to those newcomers who are most certainly distressed at their current situation. I do hope you all will grow accustomed quickly and find comfort in knowing that this is hardly the worst place you could find yourself. Perhaps you will find some comfort in what I am about to say.

[He moves the camera a little so that the focus is more on the food than himself, though he's still visible in the corner of the shot.]

I would like to invite anyone who has yet to eat their morning meal to the Phantomhive mansion in sector five. It seems that Young Master has taken his leave from the prison and so I have made too much food to simply allow it to go to waste. This isn't only for the people who have only arrived today, of course; those who have been here for a longer period of time are most certainly welcome as well. There should be enough food here for everyone who decided to join me.

((OOC: Might be a little slow since I'm doing this from my phone, but I really wanted to put this up.))

[She’s appalled. She’s read the message carefully, once, twice, three times, has practically torn the welcome basket and brochure apart, and she still doesn’t understand. Oh, she knows what the words are telling her, but it just hasn’t sunk in yet.]

Hello? My name is Chun-Li. I believe there’s been some sort of mistake. [She has to take a slow, deep breath here, forcing herself to keep her composure.]

As an agent of INTERPOL, these crimes that I’m being accused of are unreasonable and frankly, ridiculous. I demand to speak to this Acumen and to be sent back immediately! [Her voice wobbles just barely with anger, but she won’t lose her temper. Not yet, anyway.]

[There was a sigh. The voice itself was perfectly normal, but anyone in the area to actually see what just made that noise might be in for a somewhat nasty surprise. The source of the noise is a tall, spindly, humanoid looking thing. He’s mostly solid looking. Mostly.]

Acumen? That’s a very self-important name. But that’s beside the point. The point is, even though you arrested me, I’m not angry, oh no. I’m not at all irritated that after hundreds of years of waiting, I had finally disabled Takamagahara. It’s not like I can’t just wait another couple hundred years for that to come around again. It’s no problem, really.

[Judging by the tone of his voice, he’s actually pretty pissed. He had been so damn close.]

No no, my only complaint is that if you were going to arrest me, couldn’t you at least, you know, bring along my body? Is that too much to ask?


((OOC: If you want to see the creepy ghost, feel free to tag into the action! He's hanging out by the pet shop, being disgusted by the kittens.))