[The Real again.

You all have the same orders, or close enough. Forty-eight hour rotations for teams, twelve-hour shifts for every woman and man, five ships available if you include the two Olympians that survived. Formal crew assignments are less rigid these days, though some captains insist. Commissioned or not, your task is to find the ejected control unit of the Harbinger, which measures twenty by twenty feet, wherever it scuttled off to in the tunnels. Sounds big. Sounds easy— if you've never been into the tunnels.

The comms line is clear now. As your hovercraft floats its sensors and lights through cold darkness into the next gruelling hour, the chatter offers some measure of comfort. Young or old, chafed by habitual smoking or clear as a singer's, these voices accompany you through what was so recently enemy territory.]

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OOC: This post represents casual network spam and navel-gazing while characters are on this mission! Your characters can participate while on-duty or between shifts. No plot action/modding will occur in this post unless otherwise requested.

The search lasts 1 week, and personnel determine early on that the control unit must have hidden rather than escaped all the way back to the Machine home base.

Additionally, an addendum about the fates of the Phoenix and Nidhoggr are here. Players are welcome to take rotations with the Shangrila instead, and play it loose with schedules.

hello̶̙͙̦͍̱̱̰͔̞͇̘̬̦̤̞̫̖͙ͩ̎͠͡͡l̵̸͖̲̻̟̮̫̠̩̞̪̯͎̮̰̘̹͉ͪ̐̄͗̍͊̽̃ͮ̀̈́͒ͦ̽̏̌ō͖̹̖̦̯̹͒̍̈͑̚ͅ ͖͕̬̿͊͋ͣ̓̀ͦͪ̃zion.

i'm afraid i come with more ̧͑͒́͜ ̈́̀͋ͣͦ̿́͘͜1́bad n̖̟̹̱̲ews. the time is coming that your people will need your help, and the vast majority of you will choose to give it. this time will come quickly and vio͔̱̰̗̮̞ͤͦͦ̊ͩ̕͜lently and without warning shots. it will seem disconnected from the deeds of neo decades ago, and the council two months ago. it is not. i wouldn't worry you with the long view, though. there will be time for that.

for now, i will leave you with some numbers. y̪̑̑̏̽̅ȏ͇̦̟̅͗́̅̇̔u ͈̤͚̭̫͉͙̘͙͉̮̲̞̒ͯͩ̈́̒̊̚k͉̙̝͖̲̣̬̭̲̦͙̪̭̭ͥ̉̾̓̿̄̄̑͊̈́̈̿̐͊̅̍͌now how much we like our numbers, but i think y̳͙ͤ͗̿̊͋͛̉ͬ̇ou'll find these helpful too.

one is a necessary sacrifice. you w̺̤̟͋i̻̭̻͎̤ͬll survive if you have f̱̲͇̺̗̥ͮ̀͒͒̋̎ͪ̂̌̽̿ͭͮ̉a̬̞̩̞̳͈̿i̦̲͉̞̺̹͋̏̾̔͛̒̉th. it will bring you closer to us, but you will do it for humankind. don't overthink it. this isn't a mǎ̌tter of one comma the.

two emp charges ̭͕͉̩͕͗̎̏̋̈w̙̳̭̯͓̑̏͂ͣ̋i͔̪ͅll not be enough.

three of you are necessary. to cli͓ͨ̾̂ͣ̓ͨm̺͇̺̟b̲̲̜͇͙̲̼ a̲̲̜͇͙̲̼ḇ̠̲̯̙̯͑͛̐ͩ̑͋͂ove the f̉ͮlames you must stand each foot on the shoulder of a crewmate. should you succeed, this will change the course of limitless tomorrows. it'll be s͇u̥͓̬̖̲̹btle, but sure.

fọ̝ͪ̊̉ͮ̑ur look closely here. this will be the salvation̬ o̥̞̖̳̝͈̗͐ͫf the day.

y͓̳̦͕̬̠̱̒̅ͯ̈́̌͌o̖̼̊̅͌̂̾ͦu w̮͉͖͔̮̳̄͌̄ill be wondering to what extent th͢e͙ͤ́͐͊ͦͅ architect and i are involved. the answer is: other ț͎͔̗͖̺̺̇̎̃̋͆ͪh̘̖̹̙a̗̗̣͉̠ͭn̪ͯ́̍̊͛̑ ͖̥̫̞̮̗̓̅̔ͅt͖̳his message and the one he will write you later, not at all. some of you have been wondering what the truce meant, and i will be the first to tell you: it meant change. for us, as well as the humans of earth. we are not they.

as a matter of fact, they’re much older.

ṁ̘̖̣̼̖̈́ͭ̆ȳ̥̱̲̦͐̎̈̋ condolences and congrat̖̗̥̟ͥ́ͬ̄͂ͯͬu̳̫̜̲̻̙͌l̙̱̝͂͑̓̌ͬ̈a̻͓̖̿̄͛ͬ̆ti̺̩̖̫̪̳͂ͮ͊̔ons in the coming battle.̗̬̞ͬ͑̆̅ͪ

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OOC: Plotting post goes up on Saturday, 6/13.

Look. I'm just gonna go ahead and say it. But I'm only sayin' it once, and I'm gonna say it real slow, so all of you better clean the crap outta your ears and listen up.

I get that there ain't no money. Actual money. But what I'm sayin' is, if you ain't got nothin' to trade, why the hell would you go around wasting somebody's time.

Like, it's like common friggin' decency to bring with you what you got to trade. No, 'oh, whoops guess I left it at home', no, 'oh, it's in the pocket of my other crappy shapeless pants'-- gettin' it to me in a day ain't an option, I don't care if it's your laundry day, if you're waitin' for some big payoff, I don't care if you got twelve kids--that's your own damn fault--I don't care if you're fresh outta the tube. If you wanna buy something from someone? If you bring in your crappy little console, and you want it fixed up real quick so you can get your ass back to work, and you hustle me along and talk real big and then when it comes time to pay up, and you give me some sad sack story? [SLOWLY AND LOUDLY:] I don't work for free. Nobody here better be workin' for free, and if they are, congratulations, you found yourself a sucker. Charity is for suckers.

Okay? Are we clear? 'Cause the next idiot that comes to me askin' for a handout is gonna get it, and I don't mean free frickin' labor. [SIGH.] Jeez. It's like nobody got a brain. Workin' with a buncha stupid fleshy kids. Hardly even seems worth it...

[grumbling trails off into nothing.]

OPEN FOR BUSINESS

Crowley's Custom Tailoring

Great deals and great craftmanship for men and women.

Just because there's no real economy and we all smell like patchouli doesn't mean that you have to look like you smell like patchouli.

Come find me in the marketplace or send me a message here with custom orders and inquiries.

[ Attached is a flattering picture of him and an address. ]

[When the video flickers into focus, the man in the frame is immediately recognizable to anyone who has been in Zion for more than a few months. For those who are newer, it’s not difficult to catch up on the archives. Orion is Chiron’s man, a face young and handsome-- traits intended to reconcile his representation of an anti-Oracle Councilor on a network created by the Oracle. He isn’t much more than a puppet, but he is known to have been chosen and groomed to puppet very well. His sleeveless ZDG Medical uniform exposes the sockets in his arms; this too, deliberate.

The Council needs men like him, in times like these.] Greetings, Zion, [Orion says.] Today, I greet you on behalf of the Council, twelve voices in unity. During Truce Week, the hovership known as the Erebus returned to harbour with news of a tactical crisis. Four crews of the Zion Defense Grid were attacked by the Machines. In order to maximize the likelihood of survivors and to protect our strategy, the Council scrambled a rescue effort in secret. Commander Gwisin, Captain Metzger and Captain pro tem Antilles are coming home. [His face breaks into a small smile that fades.] We have news that one survivor is returning with them.

It is not the way of Zion to silence discourse and debate. However, it’s often difficult for the Council to straddle the lines between communication, respect for the fallen, and... catering to gossip mongers.

[He shrugs helplessly. He has very nice shoulders. He probably isn’t all that helpless, really. If one hadn’t already considered Tony Stark a mere gossip monger, it’s unavoidable to consider now.]

I only hope that my fellow unplugged remember the danger, the Machine threat, the necessity of stealth in our work near the human fields. And I hope that our Native-born brothers and sisters weigh these network discussions carefully. The Council answers to you as much as to the extracted citizens of Zion. Do not view fearful speculations as divisive, or a threat to our way of survival.

[Divisive.] Take it as an opportunity to improve our city. As the Zion Defense Grid debriefs the hovercrews, intelligence will be disseminated. Thank you for your attention and your patience.

On a closing note, the Zion Defense Grid invites you now to pay respect to the soldiers slain aboard the Himalia, Medea, Horus, and Memphis. Please join me in a moment of silence to honor our fallen.

[It stretches.] A ceremony will be held next week. We must rally around our families and our friends. Thank you, Zion. And good night.