Dude. Now I really wanna find a swingset.

Who: Junpei & OPEN to any and all
When: Sunday night
What: TIME FOR A NICE DREAM. n__n

( gonna take something great just to get me out of bed ... )

.......maybe we could have a moment to think of everyone who passed, forever lost at sea.

I'm sick of this hot weather, sick of being stuck on this rock, sick of never getting enough sleep at night, sick of this damn cough, sick of never knowing what Hell we get dreamed into next, and sick of watching people vanish left and right with no idea of where they're vanishing to.  Even shit like a cruise or a lottery turns out to be some kind of sick taunt, a reward being dangled in front of us so we take enough rope to hang ourselves.  I've had it. 

I've fucking had it.

I'm going out tonight, and everybody had better stay the fuck out of my way.

[Locked to Katniss, Finnick, Johanna, the IT, SEES, & previous rescuees.]

[Chie is red-faced, puffy-eyed, and sniffling when she turns on her webcam, but the way she's glaring at the camera makes her look more dangerous than a crying schoolgirl ought to be capable of.  Her voice wavers just a little when she begins to talk, but it quickly steadies.]

Okay guys.  I guess by now you've probably all seen that someone else has disappeared into the Dark Hour.  Usually it's my b-buddy Souji who's making these announcements, but he's... he's not back to shore yet, and he put me in charge when he put me on the lifeboat, so I guess it's going to be me.  I'll be leading the rescue squad into the Dark Hour, and if you don't like it, then.... then I'll kick your ass!

Um.

[She looks offscreen and takes a couple deep breaths, then stares back at the camera, determined.]

Katniss and Finnick and Johanna, this message is mostly for you, to try and explain what's happening.  We're going to get Peeta back, but we need your help.  The message you saw on the network isn't exactly from Peeta, it's more... it's more like the parts of himself that he hides and, um, that he doesn't like very much are getting a voice of their own.  The place where he is right now is really... messed up and crazy and hard to navigate, because it all has to do with the bad stuff that's inside everybody's heads.  And if we can't find him in time, then... he's in really big trouble.

One of my friends has a way to track him down so we can save him, but he needs to know... everything any of you can tell us about Peeta, because he needs to understand the way he thinks before he's able to smell him.  All I could tell him were stories about working at Belgium-san's bakery, but what we really need to know are things about his past, or problems that he's been having, because those are sort of the key to figuring this all out and... I don't even know if I'm making any sense!  But we're going in tonight, as soon as we can, and the more we know when we do the quicker this will be.  Okay.  Um.

Chie out.

So, boys? How goes the hunt? I have to say, I think I like this game. Does it have to be on the boat only or can we continue on land?

I'm on 15. And that's just counting the panties.

So! A cruise, huh? I haven't been on a boat for a long, long time. Like actually a boat, not some kind of spacy metaphor for boat. Or bedroom metaphor for it.

Sun, water, and swimsuits. I've got mine. Who's going?

All riiiiight! Heh, I bet this cruise is gonna be even better than that trip to Yakushima last year! Who else is goin'?

Hey, Akihiko-senpai, Minato, Ryoji! I'm thinkin' it's time for Operation Babe Hunt Part 2 - The Revenge of the Babe-Hunters! Whaddya say?

First off, my thanks to the police department for being cooperative to someone who has little authority on this island. I am truly gracious. After collecting and properly organizing the paperwork at my disposal, I've learned the a few details that I was not given at my orientation.

• The current law enforcement works on the "strike system." This declares individuals who commit minor offenses are giving three chances to rectify their behavior. Punishment by law enforcement is given depending on the nature of the crime and the perpetrator's current strike. Three strikes until the individual is incarcerated for ten years to life. However, these strikes can be contested in a court of law.


• The above, of course, is based solely on the government's self-declared laws. Some of which, such as deeming those who try to escape guilty, are ludicrous if such precautions such as a barrier are put into place. This either means that there is the possibility of escape, or that the government means to set an example of those who try.


• Major offenses are punishable by more than a single strike based on the nature of the crime, but still up to the whim of the government. These offenses include, but are not limited to, both murder and battery.


• New Moore practices civil law. This means a judge decides a person's fate based on a variety of factors including evidence, proper defense and former record. I'm unfamiliar with the officials appointed, or their means of ruling fair judgment.


• Those who are prosecuted are guilty until proven innocent. Unfortunately there doesn't seem to be many competent defense attorneys on this island. This puts everyone at a disadvantage in the eyes of the judge.

This is all set-up by a third party and not the actual government and laws made by the island of New Moore itself. We can assume source outside the island is involved, unless I find evidence otherwise. As far as who or what, that, for the moment, remains to be seen.

It has only been a few days, but my endeavor has left me with more questions than answers. However, the name "New Moore" sounds familiar, even if I can't place it right now.

Ah.......

I




um.....






Suddenly I'm not sure what I meant to say.

Thanks to everybody who came to save Nathan. It looks like he's going to be fine, even with all that screwed up zombie talk.

I'm not sure if we wanna have a party about this just yet, but uh. I'll ask him when he wakes up?

Nico, I'm right downstairs so let me know if anything's going on.

I was given a laptop, assigned an apartment, and told that I was fake. Reviewing the entries made on this network, my skepticism in this compelling fact is not unshared. Without means of contacting the outside world, the patrons of this island are forced into complicity by an unelected governmental (and I use the term loosely in this case) body. This includes limited access to the outside world as well as a barrier that reaches around the entire island. Much to my dismay, when I inquired about government officials and proceedings, I was given no names nor proper protocol for acquiring such information. Somehow, I'm not surprised.

My name is Miles Edgeworth. In the "fake" world I have been "taken" from I was a prosecuting attorney in my district. Even if my title does not hold here, I'd still like to gather some information about the laws and practices. I'm aware that there is a Police Department, and that select few who were also put in a similar situation now have jobs there. I would like to ask for their cooperation. For anyone else who has information pertaining to New Moore, I will take what you offer.

Teddie should know enough about Nathan to find him but... I'm still having trouble pinpointing his exact location. Does anyone know anything about Nathan that's more personal...? It's the only way to figure out where he is.

...Victor?

Shepard-san, Jenny-san, Patrol Officer-san, thank you very very much for dropping all the charges against me.

And, um, I understand that even if I am innocent and upset at how an officer is treating me, kicking him is still resisting arrest.  It won't happen again. 

Not that I am ever going to do anything that would get me arrested! 

Now I am going to go home and order take-out any maybe sleep until noon tomorrow.

[ It's that time again.

One minute after midnight, every television on the island mysteriously flips on to reveal an odd image. Though it might not be recognisable at first glance, the setting is a community centre — a particularly large one, somewhat industrial looking. There are empty boxes, piles of clothes, a few wheelchairs and a vending machine visible. Hanging on a wall in the back is a canvas, with words crudely painted on: HOW TO SUCCEED IN CHEATING DEATH WITHOUT REALLY TRYING. I guess you couuld say that's the title of this terrible show. In the far left corner, you can just barely make out the shape of a person leaning over the second level. When he calls out to the empty room, the echoes sound distinctively Irish. ]


Hello? Anyone there?


[ After waiting a few moments, the figure climbs down to the ground floor and strides toward the camera. It's Nathan, but certain things about him are different: the slump of his shoulders, the orange jumpsuit, and most disturbingly, the yellow eyes. ]


Course not. Who'd stick around this place?


[ He stops and leans against one of the columns, staring into the camera. ]


It's great for people who've got nowhere else to go, though. Maybe someone who's such an insufferable twat that no one'd take him in could call this home.


[ Nathan lets out a short, bitter laugh. Maybe New Moore inhabitants have seen bouts of Nathan's anger before, but this is different; he seems to simmer on edge, grinding his teeth as he stares down the camera, just waiting for the last straw. ]


Or maybe he'd get pulled to some shit island instead. Bye mum, bye dad — though I guess you were never really there to begin with, yeah? And no point in saying bye to a brother who only stuck around long enough to up and die. Bye ASBO shitheads, except for the one who comes along only to fucking leave again—


[ And there it is, the one unlucky spark to catch fire. Nathan abruptly kicks one of the wheelchairs over, fists clenched at his sides. When he turns back to the camera, his face is twisted in loathing. ]


Being an immortal is definitely off the A-list, but it's got its ugly side. People get released all the time, everyone's going to die, and ghosts aren't exactly keen on hanging around. So no wonder I got this power. I've got loads of practice at being left behind! There's no one better suited for this.


[ The rage in his eyes dies a bit, his body slowly loses its tension. Nathan folds his arms across his chest and looks around the community centre. There's silence for a while. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. ]


It's quiet here. Quiet as a fucking tomb.


[ He looks sharply back at the camera. ]

I was buried alive, you know. For four fucking days. I didn't think anyone'd find me, thought I'd be there forever. Clearly I was wrong, but tell me this: is this really better? If you ask me, I think it's just putting off the inevitable.

So I suppose it's good that I'm here. Might as well get a head start.

...........................................


I guess I'd better look into getting a license, then.

what I wanted to talk about.  This is actually a very peculiar feeling.  All sort of tingly.  Like nitroglycerin on the tongue.  although if that were a bad case I suppose I'd want to stop talking, in case the heat or vibration set it off.  I'd just sort of sit there with my tongue lazing about, like a dog.  I like dogs!  Always so friendly, so protective, and very trusting.  Very loyal, you can't beat a dog for loyalty.  I miss K-9.  Best pooch in the universe, that one!  But Sarah Jane needed him more than I did.  Deserved him, too.  She was with me longer than anyone, before or since, Sarah was.  Well.  No, that would be Tegan, actually.  But it felt like Sarah was there longer.  Never would have left her the way I did if I'd been given more of a choice.  

Actually, I suppose I actually spent more time with the Brigadier, didn't I?  But that was different.  I spent it with him, not he with me.  Not that either of us had that much in the way of choice.  I suppose I could have walked off.  Driven off with Bessie, actually.  Not that I really miss Bessie any more.  Not nearly in my usual caliber, that one.  Had to be some kind of projection or displacement or something in order for me to be that fond.  Bit ridiculous.  Not that being ridiculous is a bad thing!  Sometimes it's the best thing!  Saves your life, sure as celery or jelly babies!  Hang on, though.  I was talking about something.  Talking about what I'm talking about.  Or in this case, talking about talking about what I'm talking about, which is definitely ridiculous, not to mention recursive.  I can't quite seem to stop, either.  Not entirely under my control.  Bit alarming.  Been doing it all day.  Sorry, Yosuke.  For that matter, it's not just that I'm talking.  It's that I'm talking about things I'd honestly rather not talk about.  Or rather, talking about things I'd rather not talk about honestly.  But I am, honestly, talking about them honestly.  Try not to dwell on them, usually.  Take how many travelling companions I've had.  How many of them I've had to leave behind, or who have left me behind.  Breaks my heart, every time, but otherwise I have to start thinking about things like how old I am, not that I genuinely know the answer to that question any more.  I have a rough guess, of course.  Still, more than a bit embarrassing.  Getting a little long in the tooth.  Nothing compared to Rassilon, but even as Time Lords go I'm stretching it a bit, in regenerations more than  anything else.  I went for the longest time without! Before I stole the TARDIS, I mean.  That was a brilliant decision.  Best one I ever made.  Even better than if I'd shipped out with the Corsair, the way I was planning.   Now there's another one I miss.  One of the few Time Lords who was worth his title.  Her title, actually, at the time.  With that low-scooped dress, and the plunging tattoo right there in between her you know you'd think I would have been immune to that sort of thing at the time, all sedate and cantankerous the way I was.  And nervous, not to mention terribly nervous all the time.  Had to keep my granddaughter safe, of course, so that accounts for the nerves.  And I suppose they never stopped me.  Certainly didn't stop me from nearly getting married to an Aztec.  She was a wonder!  Far more clever than anyone in that time and place had any right to be.  Pity I had to leave her behind.  Pity I ever have to leave any of them behind.

I've got quite a lot of pity, actually.