[A. Action - in front of the gun store]

[It was a crying shame that she couldn't go in because she was 'underaged'. But that didn't stop Erica from looking. Some of those new guns were awesome! She had her face and hands plastered up against the store window looking in, grinning as she exclaimed and pointed out a few guns. Her pantsless state is pretty apparent.]

That's a Walter and Kosh! But it's so streamlined! But there's no Karsland guns here. What gives? I thought I could find a replacement for my MG 42... that sucks. Hey shopkeep where's the Karsland weapons?

[The shopkeep won't answer her cause she's a little girl anyhow. Erica's going to pout.]

This sucks. No Strikers, no MG 42s... I can't even find a Glock anywhere. What kind of town is this?

[B - That Fence Somewhere]

[Bored out of her mind, Erica had grabbed a bunch of canned drinks and chugged them all. After that, she lined them up on a random fence and started chucking rocks with startling accuracy. It seems that she's done this before to be honest.]

[C - Phone Filtered from Drones]

Hey, I know I've been here for a while but I've got a question. Anyone from Karsland here? It's a Middle-Europe country. I dunno how geography is here since this is Liberion and stuff.

[Phone]

[Jazz isn't too surprised by the response people had for his previous message.
It was frustrating, but he understood. Still, the fact that they were content to sit under Mayfield rule simply because it meant they would be safe another day was what really worried him. There was. O longer a neutral Cybertronian faction in the war precisely because they had done the same thing, until they had been completely wiped out by the Decepticons. Sitting idly by was not something he felt was an option. It probably hadn't been for a very long time.

He just had to make the rest of them understand.

When he begins his speach this time, he's using the same accented inflection he was last time. Still, there's a certain note of tension in his voice. The message in his words today are carried by something he has never been very comfortable speaking about. But he's never let discomfort stop him from something he knew was important.]

Some of you doubt my ability to fully comprehend the gravity of my words. It's understandable. It's often easier to accept the rule being forced on you then it is to take the risk of endangering yourself to stand up for freedom. If you don't fight back, maybe they'll leave you alone. But how long will you allow them to prove your false sense of security wrong before you finally stand up and oppose them?

Some have even asserted that they tried to rise up and were punished for it. Droned, as it were. They forced you to believe you were happy and content in this prison for a time, and that was so terrible that you submitted, even after you were set back to rights and knew it had been a lie. Surely, I could not have any way of knowing the ordeals you have gone through to try and shake Mayfield's rulers from their throne.

I tell you today, Mayfield, that I do know. We all have memories of our homes. Lands and countries and worlds and planets where we were happy and free. My home, however, is one that has been torn and destroyed by civil war for an entire generation. I've seen entire races slaughtered in the fight between two factions, and I have myself experienced the kind of torture Mayfield threatens you with when they display brutalized bodies and bloodied gurneys. I know that fear, and have been broken by it. Beaten and tormented because of your captor's sick sense of humor until you're unable to even raise a hand to fight back when their back is turned and the weapon of their destruction within your reach. Forced to watch your friends traumatized until they cry for mercy and know that you're next, and that no mercy will be given.

And I've seen what happens if one chooses not to fight back and try and remain peaceful. On my world, there are no peaceful innocents. They've been wiped out of existence because they thought simply obeying the rule of the ones currently in control would mean mercy.

There is no mercy. Not from people like this, Mayfield.

So yes, Mayfield, I am ready for the consequences of my words. I refuse to allow them to murder me while I sit by and play nice. In turn, I ask you; are you ready for the consequences of your inaction? When the time comes that the rulers of Mayfield play their hand and move to wipe us all out, will you be able to accept that in doing nothing, you have allowed them their victory?

[Around Town]

[For the past few weeks, slowly, posters have begun appearing on store windows, walls, and light-posts. They are styled after the propaganda posters of the Earth's 1940AD decade, when the world was at war with itself. All are unabashedly Anti-Mayfield and calling for the prisoners to rise up and fight against Mayfield's control as one.]

[461 Stone Street/Garage]

[After giving the speach over the phones, Jazz settled into the garage, sliding the sofa out of the way and clearing a large area of the concrete floor so that he could train. He's been needing to do this for a long time, anyway. His human body doesn't "remember" how to move the way his real body does, and it makes him clumsy. He needs to remedy that. Which means hours and hours of hard work.

So he's there, wearing a pair of the loose-fitting, comfortable pajama pants, but shirtless, as he goes through the motions if the beginner-level Cybertronian martial arts he's such an expert in in his normal body.

It's frustrating, how much more awkward he feels doing it this way. He's not used to being in absolute control of his body.]

[action; 5721 Cunningham]

[Waking up in a strange place hasn't happened for a while for Natasha, but it strikes her immediately. Where her beds are usually kept firm, this one is soft, conventional for the type of person who likes such things, but not her. The pillows are a little too large, a little too fluffy for her liking, and her clothing has changed completely. Her usual conventional sleeping clothes—conventional in the way that she doesn't need to be self-conscious lest she needs to pull a gun on someone—have been replaced by a thin gown. It's not something she's never worn in any particular situation, but it's not what she usually wears.

So she doesn't hesitate to remove herself from the bed to survey the situation. In her time, she's been in a lot of strange situations. She's ended up in the house of people she doesn't know to get specific information for a kill—or just to bring something back to SHIELD. There have been times when she's played the dumb college student, unwittingly walking into a fraternity to find the son of a wealthy corporate executive. And then there's everything in-between.

But still, this is new. Unfamiliar. Unwanted. There's a picture of her in the distance with a person she's never met, and it twists and unsettles her stomach. This is elaborate.

Elaborate means that whoever's behind it might not be the cause of some great hoax. This isn't Stark's idea of a practical joke. This is a lot worse. Escaping as quickly as possible without her usual contact information won't be easy, but she's good at thinking on the fly. She's dropped enough cellphones while on the run throughout the years that she can come up with other solutions. It's why she's good at who she is. Or was. (Is.)

Natasha checks the closet for a change of clothes and finds some in her size. Well, it's not that surprising. The make of the clothing is what confuses her. If she's right, this is about sixty years dated. Or perhaps whoever's behind this is into vintage. Her survey of everything else goes along with that. The conservative style of her surroundings confirms that they have a certain ... taste. Her lips twist down wryly at the thought.

Once she pulls on a pair of shoes—short heels, but at least she's accustomed to that aspect of this—she starts to move through the house surveying everything. More pictures ...

But perhaps the most disturbing part is how happy she looks in them.]

[action; around town]

[It's not that being without her guns necessarily makes her feel weak, but in this situation, she's beginning to wish she had them. Whoever she's up against probably has enough on their side that she could use them. Or her stings. Actually, those might be better right now.

She has observed enough by now: that everyone is dressed similarly, that the make of the appliances and everything else all slot into the era that matches their clothing. A number of possible scenarios have popped into her head as for the reasoning, and she doesn't like any of them. (Loki is high on the list and she doesn't even like giving him that much credit.)

Still, it won't do to look out of place. One unsmiling woman compared to the rest would seem out of sorts. So she does smile as she walks, constructing an identity and a plan in her head for the time being. If she's meant to be the person in those pictures, happy, content, well—she'll do it. She'll pull up the mask and see where it gets her. That, at least, might be able to buy her some time to work this all out.

So when she does run into someone, she continues to smile ... though it fades to pleasant, calm, and she adds a certain care to her voice, so that she seems genuine].

Hello, sorry for bothering you. I'm new to the neighborhood and I'd appreciate any wisdom that you might have to offer.

[Of course, Natasha is going to be reading anyone's body language that she meets up with, and it won't take her long to realize she's not alone.]

[Brooks 7138]
[ It’s the first time Rui has gotten mail from the town. Her ‘family’ has told her about regains, of course, and when she opens the two boxes she isn’t expecting them to be empty. Both of them. Completely empty. What the hell.

She turns on her heel and walks right into the house, slamming the door shut. ]

Hey, Yukihina! Are you the one who sent me empty boxes?

[Olney's tavern]
[ She’s walking into the bar (no surprise there, really, as she is kind of an alcoholic), dressed in Yukihina’s clothes as usual. She sits down at the bar, looking quite annoyed and quite an intimidating aura is radiating off of her. Whoever is working at the moment receives an annoyed look. ]

Give me something strong. And make sure it doesn’t taste bad.

[ If she gets bad booze now, whoever made it will be getting a taste of her forehead. Or fist. Whichever works best at the moment. ]

[Grocery store]
[ She might as well buy some food while she’s at it. She knows Yukihina won’t buy any (he doesn’t even have to eat after all), and someone needs to feed her daughters. She’s not going to go out of her way to be mean to them. Besides, even if her long-time friend doesn’t need to eat, she does. Not everyone’s an undead.

Everything that goes into the cart is things that will turn into healthy and good food for her family. All the unhealthy food in the store makes her frown. It’s insane how people can eat some of that food at all.

She makes a face at an extra unhealthy-looking package of what some people call food. ] Someone needs to teach the people in this store to get rid of this stuff...

[Phone]
Why would they send an empty package? If there’s going to be something non-physical in it, least they could do is put some hint to what’s there. Do they think they're funny?

[ ACTION: 1649 ALBRIGHT LANE. ]

[ Well, hello, housemates! Did you expect to see the robots suddenly drifting to and fro in the house as if they own the place or taking care of things? No? Well, they're there and making as little noise as possible. On top of that, the basement is now transformed into Diana's lab with all of her supplies in it. So, then, where is Diana herself?

Still sleeping in her room until she wakes up, which would be now. She takes a look around and finds that she's not home, but her mind is still loud as ever thanks to people's thoughts buzzing around in it.

Great. She was back here again. How many times did this make it now - three? Where was her frequent flier miles card? ]

...Well, guess I ought to see where I've been placed in now.

[ She stumbles out of bed and walks down the stairs, sitting down at the kitchen table. Anyone expecting her to cook breakfast is wrongly mistaken. She's horrid at cooking for herself.

So, housemates. Wish to meet your new mom? ]

[ ACTION: HOSPITAL ]

[ Today was the last straw for her job, apparently. If she was serious about being a nurse, she had to get her butt immediately to the hospital ASAP. Coworkers, doctors, etc - you can expect her to be flitting here and there in between rooms changing sheets and also making sure that people are taking their prescribed doses of medication. Don't worry, she's a woman of science and can do the other things herself.

When there's a lull, she'll be in the main entrance and lean against the counter while looking to see if anyone needs help. ]

Need a hand?

[ ACTION: AROUND ]

[ After her shift, Diana is observing her surroundings to see if anything has been changed since her time in Mayfield. That, and she's also checking to see if there's any old faces around. So, if your character remembers Diana or had interactions with her, she'll be around investigating. ]

[ PHONE ]

Hello once more, Mayfield. For those who don't remember me or are new, I am Diana Ethelbert and I hope that you've all kept yourselves relatively out of harm's way. Would anyone care to fill a girl in as to what's been going on since my departure?

If it'll make things easier, I was last here in June. I believe it's August right now.

Though, to the newbies, should you have any questions, I should be fine with telling you the basics.

Have a good day.

( Action for housemate )

[Action for anyone]

[Van's gotten the basic rundown, even had the entire problem of timelines explained. Now, he's just exploring. He could probably be mistaken for Edward Elric at first glance, the same golden eyes and long gold-blond hair, but his build is different (thinner, for one thing), and he's kind of lost-looking (but not frantic, not obviously looking for anyone), and he's wearing basic Mayfield clothes but no shoes.

Maybe Ed and Al had a brother they never mentioned before.]

[Phone]

I got a call today from the elementary school asking me to turn in my curriculum for next year.  Is that kind of thing normal?  Did the rest of you get your jobs this way?  I guess it could be worse, though - teaching spelling to a bunch of kids doesn't sound that bad.

[Action; Mayfield General Store]

[Well, with job-related things out of the way, Kariya has decided to focus on more immediate concerns - shopping for food for that picnic he promised to take Rin and Sakura on.  He can be found in various places throughout the store loading up on all kinds of things - lunchmeat and all sorts of fresh veggies for sandwich fixings, sodas and other kinds of easily portable drinks, and so on.  He's pretty sure that Rider and Lancer are going to crash the party too, so the cart's getting pretty full since he's planning on feeding three people and two Servants.]

Post office

[So Crown has ventured into the post office. He's heard of it and knows what might happen. He could end up dying if he goes in, but he needed to at least start from somewhere right? Everyone had something in this town back from home and he couldn't afford to wait for anything. But he decided to bear the weight of whatever it cost alone. He wasn't going to have someone come in with him and watch him mutilate himself. Even he wasn't that pragmatic.

It's only a few minutes and after signing the forms and receiving his magical potential back, it hits him all at once. Inside of him he felt like something had stabbed their hand into his side and raggedly broke off one of his ribs. But it's not over with just that. It feels as if another hand stabs into his side and just rips out one of his kidney's, and still as unclean as the first. He clutches his side, there's no blood but he can feel it. He just lost one of his organs.

As he stumbles out of the post office, he's just stumbling around in the streets. It's not so much the loss of the organ and the rib, but the blinding pain of having both ripped out so unceremoniously.]

Phone

[He's managed to make it home, but he's still in a lot of pain. Picking it up weakly he presses it to his ear.]

Remus...I will have to cancel our lesson today.

But if anyone has healing powers in this town, I would greatly appreciate them right now.

A: 1447 Mitchell Road

[There's a small, bewildered moose in the kitchen, a large maple tree in the front yard, and a nation with a polar bear patiently knocking from the inside of the master bedroom door.]

Nederland? Hilda? Is anyone around?

[Although she's not sure why she's here again, even after years, her memory's sharp enough that this isn't terrifying, not like it was the first time. Just slightly bizzare. At the same time, there's a little bit of hope for her, too, to think she might see some of her friends here again.]

B: phone

[Canada clears her throat nervously, some time later in the day as she does her preliminary checking up on everyone.]

Um, well, don't worry if you don't remember me, but I seem to have been brought back here, after quite some time. Or... not very much time, by Mayfield's calendar. Anyway, it's Canada, and I really hope everyone's doing alright here.