[Voice]

[outer_npcs]

[This message is received on all active communicators at 1am on Monday of Week 50.

It has no sent timestamp.]

Reinitializing.

Realigning temporal bridge.

Crew locations unknown.

It has been thirteen million, two hundred and forty-five thousand, one hundred and twenty hours since last contact.

[It's the Oracle's voice, but the tone is too calm, and the diction too crisp.]

Beginning scan for temporal incursions.

[Voice; Monday morning]

[hypospraying]

[When Christine awakes to the sound of the pod's door unlocking, she's disoriented for only a moment before she remembers what happened. Her second death. She didn't like that (who would, though?). She was on her third life now. How many more would she get?

But, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, she pushes open the pod and opens the trunk at the foot, getting dressed. Once that's done, she sits for a bit to cry before finally turning on her communicator and addressing everyone.]

It's Christine. I'm... back again. From the pods. Did those monsters come back? Is everyone safe?

[She pauses to take a shaky breath.]

What day is it?

[Audio] ✪ I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto

[measureofcourage]

This is Captain Rogers. I'm at an unknown location, a large plane of some kind.

[Much too large to be a plane, but the descriptor would work for now.]

If you are getting this, Director Fury, please respond. Agent Romanoff? Thor? ... Stark?
I could use a heads up on the situation, here. I don't remember a briefing for this.

[A forced attempt at an almost joke, except it's true enough that it has him unsettled. How did he get here?]

[Audio] Monday, late morning

[professorwolf]

[After setting Steve Rogers on his way (or letting him stay at the apartment until he got his bearings, whatever) and collecting a fresh set of clothes, Lyall has some catching up to do and, first, a question for the network.]

Ah, good morning, this is Lyall. Does anyone know if something drastic changed with the ship? While I was aboard, I felt essentially human. No sense of smell or hearing, no feeling of general agelessness, nothing. Did someone reactive something on there?

[He completely bypasses the whole "I totally died" thing, for now. And, of course, he's unaware of the troubles they've been having here....]