ᴏɴᴇ. [ video; later afternoon ]

[secondcomingof]

[ Despite his reputation as a prominent figure, Casval Mass still held a certain aversion to showing his face in public when he deemed it unnecessary. The fact that he's doing so to what he's deduced to be a bunch of strangers, seemingly picked at random by some outside force, makes him all the warier.

But what Casval likes even less than an overabundance of frivolous contact is a serious lack of answers. And answers were nowhere to be found, in this situation. Those strange lights, those strange numbers connecting him to faces and places he didn't recognize, but above all else, that haunting name, Char Aznable, which plagued his dreams and stole away what little sleep he managed to grasp at night.

So even though anxiety prickles through his consciousness, he figures a straightforward effort on his part may be the only way to find those answers he's seeking—and with a click of a button and a flurry of digits he couldn't discard from his memory even if he tried, Casval makes his first appearance on the network. ]

Greetings. This is Captain Casval Mass, though I'm sure that name means nothing to any of you. In fact, from what I've gathered so far, none of our names mean anything to each other.

[ Leaning back in his office chair, Casval folds his hands, staring sternly at his monitor and speaking with a swift, sure tone, lightly accented, the mark of a tested politician. ]

While some of you appear to have written this off as some kind of joke or hoax, I would advise you that such a possibility is highly unlikely. I am no believer in gods or the mystical forces surrounding them, but for now, we have to accept that what's going on is beyond our present capabilities to understand.

And I would like to understand.

Therefore, I would request—merely for the purposes of resolving this matter, mind you, I've no true personal interest in how you may spend your time—that you all tell me a little bit about yourselves. More specifically, any recent happenings in your lives that have stricken you as odd, or out of place, something that you saw, heard, or felt, anything that can might be interconnected. Because we are all accessing this same "network", we must all then share something in common, even if it isn't immediately coming to mind. I, of course, will disclose whatever you wish to know, within reason.

As a final note, I am currently stationed at Fort Turner, on a joint military venture with your country. I don't expect to be staying very long, so if you would prefer to discuss matters in private, feel free to stop on by; just ask for Captain Mass at the gate and they'll wave you on through. [ His face twitches, briefly, as if to say any juvenile jokes regarding my name will result in painful strangling, courtesy of myself. ] We could always use an extra hand or two around the base, if you've skill with a wrench or some related field.

[ Casval bows his head to his audience and offers up a polite smile. ]

I look forward to working with all of you to arrive at a logical, and mutually beneficial, resolution.

[ And click! goes the feed. ]

(( Respond however you like here! Casval will be sitting at his computer drinking tea like a boss or I left it open to anyone interested in some action for swinging on by the base. Public areas only, obviously, since they're not going to let just anyone go wandering around, but other than that have at it. Casval is NOT wearing any mask whatsoever, so you can disregard that in my icons for now. ))

Comments

[twopercent]

[Awkwardness of the situation aside, Jack doesn't seem particularly put off by Casval's glitz. His handshake is firm, and look analytical, thoughtful. And maybe just a little suspicious.]

Name's Jack. Jack Sears. Former special forces weapons sergeant. Thought maybe I should come down and introduce myself in person.

Any progress so far?

[secondcomingof]

[ It's a look Casval likes, and an attitude Casval appreciates. Jack is off to a good start. ]

It's a pleasure, Mr. Sears. [ His hand falls back to his hip. ] Not much, unfortunately. Those who I've made contact with on the network are wary of divulging much in the way of details, and I'm hesitant to inquire with my co-workers for obvious reasons.

[ Casval retreats to the safety of his desk, where a bottle of bourbon and some glasses are sitting. Gestures towards the seat across from his. ]

Can I offer you a drink? It's the least I can do to compensate you for coming all this way.

[twopercent]

Yeah, sure.

[He probably shouldn't, but this is social. Practically obligatory, really. Jack takes the offered seat, though he doesn't exactly relax into it.]

Maybe if you shared a few details of your own. The people I talked to were just... kids, a teacher. You're the first with any kind of authority I've heard from all day.

[Hence Jack's suspicion, to be honest.]

[secondcomingof]

That's a very fair point.

[ Casval tops off a glass for Jack, slides it on over, then works on an equally generous one for himself. ]

Unfortunately, though, I don't have much to share. All I received was a name, in the midst of an argument. [ His eyes narrow just thinking about it. ] "Char Aznable." As if that would be of any use to anyone. It certainly wasn't to me.

[ More of an annoyance, than anything else. He's already got enough garbage floating around in his head as it is, enough madness to destabilize him, that the prospect of even heavier burdens sinks him flat into his chair. At least he's got his bourbon for company. And Jack. ]

And what authority I do have... well, in the face of something so surreal, I may as well have none whatsoever.

[twopercent]

[Jack shakes his head faintly at the name -- it's clearly just as meaningless to him, too.]

Yeah, none of it makes any sense. Hacking, that I can see, but these numbers... where did they come from? Somebody had to have set this whole thing up. Somehow.

I guess the only other question is, if nothing fits together... what now?

[secondcomingof]

[ He assumed as much, but it never hurt to ask. Casval takes a thoughtful sip of his bourbon, humming into the glass. ]

That's exactly what I've been wondering. Whoever did this was obviously trying to send some sort of message, gather us for some sort of purpose, but we haven't any inkling as to what that purpose is. And why haven't they contacted us directly, in that case? Wouldn't it be easier than running us around in circles? Or are they playing us for fools on purpose?

[ Casval rubs wearily at his forehead, as if it would be sufficient in chasing the bedeviling thoughts away. No luck there, unfortunately. ]

I wonder... are they in trouble? Was it a distress signal? Maybe I'm overthinking it, but there has to be some viable explanation. No coincidence occurs on so grand a scale.

[twopercent]

It's been a little less than 24 hours now. And still no damn answers for any of it. Looks like like all we can do is wait.

[Jack stares morosely into his bourbon before taking an eyewateringly good-sized swig of it. His voice is a bit quieter when he adds:]

Thanks. It seems less insane to be talking about it with someone who's flesh and blood.

[Of course, there's nothing saying that Casval isn't just crazy too, but the fact that he looks just as troubled by the whole situation now that they've met eases Jack's mind.]

[secondcomingof]

[ Taking note of that sudden drop in tone, and looking Jack over a bit more closely. Perhaps with a touch of softness to his eye. ]

Former special forces, you said? Might I ask where you served, overseas? I was strictly air support, but we may have crossed paths once or twice.

[twopercent]

Afghanistan, for the most part. I guess it's possible, but... [He shakes his head a little again.] Spent most of my time in the field. Closest I got to the skies was checking aerial surveillance photos.

[That, and the fact that the last few years of service are mostly scattered recollections with long gaps between them -- if he had crossed paths with the RAF, Jack didn't remember. But he'd much rather pass off any lapse in memory being due to his focus being elsewhere at the time, instead of... something else. Jack has another good sip, putting away the alcohol with the casual ease of a heavy drinker as he shifts the subject away from himself and into Casval for the second time now.]

What about you? You don't look like the kind of guy who'd let himself get stuck on recon.

[secondcomingof]

[ Mentions of Afghanistan bring a light of recognition to Casval's face, and with it a slew of long since buried memories. Shaking his head, he reaches for the bottle to top off his glass again, placing it in Jack's reach if he wishes to do the same. ]

My first tour of duty, actually. Down in Kabul. It wasn't an easy time for anybody, but I imagine it was even harder for those who kept their boots on the ground. Myself...

[ Suddenly uneasy within the confines of his chair, Casval strolls to the open window, a mild twitch present in his fingers when he folds them behind his back. ]

...I prefer the sky. The clouds. Easier to make sense of an insensible situation.

[ Easier to forget, is more like it, but he doesn't let that particular detail slip. ]

The RAF took good care of me— [ up until the point they stabbed me in the back ] —so I was grateful for that. But I'm no "Captain" anymore, technically.

[ He glances over his shoulder at Jack with a mild grin. ]

Simply a politician who's had more life experience than most.

[twopercent]

[Jack nods a little during Casval's tale in silent acknowledgment and understanding -- maybe neither of them still have their post, but they've both shared the unpleasant experiences of war.

He doesn't really blame Casval for wanting to stay in the air... he's read all about it. Easier to deal with the messiness of war the more physical distance there is between yourself and the enemy. Up close, everything becomes much more ...personal. Intimate.

Jack decides to top up his own glass too, keeping his reply carefully composed.]

Not too uncommon, at least here in America, for politicians to bring up their service record. Usually just a bid for more public support, though... doesn't mean they necessarily saw action.

So, mind if I ask... what are you doing all the way out here? You said initially you weren't planning to stay long.

[secondcomingof]

[ "What are you doing out here?"

Good question. Casval swishes his drink around, stares into it for awhile. His business with the Americans appeared to be running smoothly—more so than he anticipated, in fact—and, assuming everything continued to go according to plan, he'd be out of here and back on Her Majesty's glorious golden shores within the week.

So why was he so reluctant to leave?

No, he knows the answer. ]

Char Aznable.

[ As Jack did moments ago, Char takes a heavy swig of his bourbon. ]

Whoever he is or isn't... he must be of some importance to me. And this city, as well. We all wound up here, gathered together, in some fashion. Connected by these numbers and names and memories that shouldn't be ours, and yet are.

This city holds the answer, somehow. [ He sounds awfully sure of it, at any rate. Grounded in this, if nothing else. Gaze sharp, glinting. ] As a fellow soldier, you can agree that relying on instinct all the time is dangerous, but in this instance, I don't believe I'm wrong.

Locke is where the road starts. And I intend on following it through to the very end, to find my way to the man I've never met.

[twopercent]

[Jack's not so sure, himself, clearly doubtful despite Casval's firmly worded statement.]

Yeah, well, I'm still convincing myself that this is actually happening. Have you actually met any of these other people?

[secondcomingof]

[ Ah, doubt. Always a useful tool, and Casval is still nursing a healthy amount of it himself. But certain things, like the pounding of that awful name inside his head, are just too strong to be ignored.

Let it stand for the record that Casval does not like pounding inside his head. Of any sort. That's what the alcohol is for: drowning it all out. ]

As of yet, no, but I've been monitoring the situation closely. I feel it's only a matter of time before these other people come forward.

You can avoid reality for as long as you like, but sooner or later, you'll be forced to confront it.

[ Says the man who runs from it constantly. Haha. Irony. ]

[twopercent]

[These two have more in common than they know. Jack has plenty of experience with not confronting reality.

He stares bitterly into his drink once again before finishing it off (!) and putting the glass back down on the table, slamming it down a little too hard.]

Yeah. Maybe. I guess we'll see.

I should be going. I've got work tomorrow.

[secondcomingof]

[ Yeah, that was a little too hard to miss. ]

...Jack. [ Cautiously: ] Don't let it get to you. We'll get to the bottom of this, somehow. That's what I'm here for.

[twopercent]

Right... [Jack doesn't sound overly convinced. He stands, left arm making a brief, quiet whirr to straighten as he pushes himself up out of his seat. He's not drunk, but he can definitely feel the impact of downing those drinks faster than he'd planned.

Oh, right, he almost forgot... Jack fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a rather new business card. He'd thought it was pretty optimistic of Boris to get some for him some this early on, but it was useful now: just a simple 'Locke City Security Consulting', his name, and number. More comfortable than the 'network' anyway.]

Well. [more subdued, but clearly in A Mood.] If you do figure out anything... let me know, huh? 'Cause I'd love to know what the hell is going on.