[Video Post;]
[The video begins. But who is this mysterious and handsome man sitting in this spare and intentionally austere room? The walls are white and architecturally angled, the furniture is black and modern. The network device sits before him on a glass table (one can see the edge of it as it shines before the lens). He looks a little bored, this stranger. He looks a little bored, a little jaded, a little weary of the world. He wears black and white himself, and a silver ring shines on the middle finger of his right hand. He looks off to his left, towards what must be an immense window (or the light wouldn't otherwise flow into the room in such a way), idly biting at his thumb, as though in general contemplation.

After a moment, he turns towards the camera...and smiles. And what warmth, what beauty is there in that smile.]

Utsuho Reiuji. I was told--no, I was asked to ask after you.

[His face turns politely serious, but a little pompous.]

I trust you are well. What need have we with such an affinity for fire to be concerned with the heat of a day such as this?

[Such a mysterious and charming smile then.]

I should very much like to speak with you.

[He turns back to the window, then, having said all he needs to say. Almost as an afterthought, he reaches out to the Network device on the glass table and, with one slender and elegant hand, turns if off again.]
[//video post ends]

[ooc: two things of note: first, please note that this post appears on the Network as an anonymous post. This would be so much easier if Flaggface just had a second Network account, but! In lieu of that...anonymous posting. Second, Flaggface is now operating under three (four) separate identities: Rory Fletcher, Rowena Faulkenrath, and Rabmag Faustus (and, technically, "Randall Flagg" too since he's still himself). Because this is what he does. He's posting this with the shiny new Rabmag persona. Enjoy.]

(A futuristic-looking starship pod comes crashing down out of the sky. It's headed for the beach...barely missing the water, it skims the last few waves, plows over the sand, and leaves a trail of glass in its wake until its stabilizers manage to keep it from flipping and instead drop it roughly onto the dunes where it hisses and sparks and its lights die.

There is a voice from inside as a video feed clicks on...there's someone in here! Just one person, though. She is half-buried in a tangle of debris.

One hand reaches up to plunk itself onto the console, and she taps a few things in. Nope, no electricity. But then the hand brushes the device, momentarily obscuring the camera, and suddenly she seems to know what's going on.

She sits up, battered from the pod's landing, and claws long jet-black hair out of her face. Her eyes are a bright vivid green as they scan the area. A cut on her forehead is dripping, and she has a few bruises, but she looks mostly unharmed. Reaching for her device, she taps a few things into the system, then pulls a little wire from the back of her neck and interfaces with the device directly. Oh, the wonders of cybernetics!)

My pod...has crashed. I am in the City again.

Again. How infuriating that these flimsy 'gods' keep bringing me back. I assume now that it is a failure of the Von Braun's FTL drives. However, I have only two data points.

A brief analysis of the local network indicates that the local population is a chaotic collection of individuals from separate dimensions, collected together under the jurisdiction of a set of leaders of unidentified species. The network proper includes an unidentifiable amount of memory. Electric power levels are unknown. The data center's location is not available. Overall, the network status is indeterminate.

Of course it is. It was the last time. It seems like none of the meddling little insects here can meddle hard enough to get in the way of their overlords. I will put a stop to that.

The Network seemingly has not changed since the last time I was here. Access to 98.5% of my past stored data has been lost, but comparisons to the remaining 1.5% show similar functions but a slightly differing level of activity. Communications appear to have thinned; there may be fewer residents now.

I will have to search for possibly found exits in recent years, but it seems to me that this is simply a function of the City's bringing in fewer residents, not of any creatures having escaped.

A search of recent Network activity yields one resident from my dimension: Marie Delacroix.

She will know who I am, and will ruin my establishment as a valuable and powerful member of this place. I need to achieve my old status here again, and she will be a problem. Rebecca will be my identity until she is out of my way. I will contrive something on the Network to mimic dated activity by Rebecca for a short stay here, in case she searches for old records.

(Now she faces the camera, her expression relaxing, as if the adrenaline is bleeding away to yield weariness. She starts pulling herself together, and her voice has turned from breathless and sharp to something calmer.)

To all Network residents: I am Rebecca Siddons, of the starship Von Braun. A failure in our FTL drives appears to have shunted me...outside. Again. If you have any valuable information or advice about living here in the City now, send it to my communications device. Any information I once had is likely dated now...

(Utsuho is paying little attention to the device, which is watching her as she sits shivering on the side of a fence. Very birdlike, perched on the post, her feathers are exuding a cold mist instead of fire, and steam is puffing from her nose with each breath, as the City's ice neutralizes her fire. She's just a big sauna steam-bird today! You could probably get the wrinkles out of clothes just by hanging them over her, and whenever she's in an enclosed space, she fills it with fog.]

WHY AM I COLD

WHY IS MY BREATH COLD

WHY AM I FREEZING

WHERE'S MY FIRE

(Every line results in her blowing a cloud of water vapor out her mouth, like a big steam gun. Her cannon is gathering a thin layer of frost. Her wings, if they're still, gather a little bit of ice too, and every so often she flaps them and shakes it off.)

You guys, it's freaking cold! Take the ice away! I'm fine in this weather.

(She jumps off the post and starts a lazy flight into the City proper, leaving a huge and obvious plume of mist behind her.)

[Unaware he's been gone over a month, Ken flips on his device, eyes wide as he gives gentle blows on his arm.]

This is a useful curse, at least.

Been a little more than three years, I guess the novelty of being able to go out when it's this bright and hot out's kinda worn off. Can't complain. Even sunburn's not so bad.

It's fucking awful out there. I guess this is a curse-- these weird two-day ones, if that's what they are-- but I hope the rest of the summer's not this bad.

Hey everyone. I've been debating this for a bit and I know I should just do it. I need to keep in shape so decided to ask. Is there some sort of gym or someone have a reiment that won't kill me to start out?

[The feed starts, although let's hope the watchers have a steady stomach, as it shakes for a few minutes, before a pair of blue eyes glare down at it.]

What... What the heck is going on? [Annoyed, quite clearly, as Kurai is not impressed. Although, she mutters under her breath as her eyes dart away.] Not Gehenna and where the heck am I? [And giving another huff.] Come on! This ain't funny!

[Fuming, she turns her attention back to the feed. She will deal with some other things later, but now? Now she needs answers.]

Alright. Listen. You. Ya, you. Whoever is behind this? I don't have time for this stuff! I've got important things to be doing and I'm not going to let you stand in my way! Noise is waiting for me and so is my kingdom. So gimme some damn answers now!

[Oh, and before she forgets…]

And where the hell did my dragon go?! Don't think I'll let you get away with that! You- you stupid asshole!