video.

[glestrade]

[ Greg's set up at a table, elbows propped up around the evidence of his breakfast - a crumpled napkin, a plate with silverware deposited on top, finished - somewhere outside with a view of a street: a sidewalk café. He looks tired and not all that well put-together, but the largeish celery garnish jutting out of his glass is a good sign he's on his way to repairing the night's damage.

It's enough that he's smiling, anyway, and looking sufficiently loose, if a little pensive. He doesn't like eating alone. ]

I was thinking last night - there's so many differences in police work between here and back home, London. Some of it's just language, jargon, you know, and some of it's just a matter of degree I guess. Guns, everyone talks about that one. We do have them, you know. I mean - I don't, hardy ever touched one, but it's not like they aren't …

[ Realizing he knows extremely little about gun regulation in this country, he decides to abandon that train of thought - not the point, anyway. ]

Well. There's lots of stuff that's different. But most of it's the same, there's different words and standards for things, but it's all pointed at the same goal, right? All over the world, or most of it. Even moreso when you used to be the same country, or have the same laws, or whatever. You find out whodunnit, and you work on making sure they can't do it again. I don't really understand how anyone can do any other kind of work, but this kid Fred I knew in school said the same thing to me about playing the piano, so it's just each to his own.

[ He takes a drink, and sets his chin in his hand. ]

I do miss my team, though. Not that I'm complaining, being a consultant's fantastic, the hours are unbeatable, you get to - you know, focus a bit more, I guess, because your job's … smaller. That's really nice. But being part of the office, the - something bigger, even if half the time it's cursing over how long it takes to get a requisition or politics or something like that, the people.

[ With a bit of a laugh and a self-deprecating half-smile, he pushes his hand through his hair and glances to one side. ]

That's a bit stupid, though, isn't it. There's people everywhere.

[ He just doesn't have any to talk to in person first thing in the morning, and for him, an hour or two is too long to go without. Feeling a little silly for this makeshift replacement, he just flashes a quick smile before shutting off the camera. ]

video;

[larker]

[Today is a video feed. But Gabriel hasn't got the camera on himself, but more what's in front of him. From his surroundings, he's in a diner. And the plate in front of him is the focus of today. Five deep-fried snickers bars are on the plate.]

You know, I have to ask myself if this truly is a plate of fried death. Seriously, the guy who runs this place made me sign a waiver to say if I had a coronary, heart attack, or any food-related death, he wouldn't be held responsible. They're only allowed to sell three at a time. Like I could resist that kind of a challenge, they may as well have lit it up with a neon sign saying "Loki, trickster, eat here".

Challenge accepted. As if a plate of deep-fried chocolate will kill me. The owner is in the corner keeping an eye on me as if my head will explode. I'll keep that in mind for later. Maybe I'll eat it all and stagger outside into oncoming traffic. That'll put the wind up him.

Well, gotta get to work on this. So you can all keep me entertained, I didn't invite the roomies to come along, couldn't have them stealing all my food. Telling you now, I'm surprised the place I'm staying in is even still standing with that lot. Protip; I say that with slight fondness.

Keep me entertained, heroes, cause the owner here has stopped talking to me. The Hell are you all up to ?

[video]

[glassinine]

[BUCKLE YOUR SEATBELTS IT'S GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE
by which I mean no, Edgeworth just has a quiet, calm, thoughtful little tirade for you all]

Good day. I'm acquainted with some of you already; for those whom I do not yet know, my name is Miles Edgeworth, and I work as a prosecutor here. I hope that you will indulge me in listening to a bit of a speech.

I understand that here, as in the previous city - and as in the homes of many of you - there is a tradition of vigilantism. I do not come today to decry vigilantes as criminals; I know that those of you who engaged in such practices almost certainly did so out of a desire to protect your homes, to fight crime that could not otherwise be fought, and the like.

But anyone who is considering returning to such practices here - who is considering becoming a vigilante and acting outside of the law - I beg you all to take a step back for just a moment and examine your actions with a critical eye.

I know that it is easy to resent the law. We like to think of the government as some meddling busybody keeping us from doing what is fun. But laws are never written out of spite. They're written for protection: of you, of your neighbors. At times, they're written to protect people from one another; at times, they're written to protect citizens from the government itself.

Laws are in place to protect people. So if you choose to act as a vigilante, to break the law, what are you doing? You're trespassing against others. You're resisting things that were put in place for the protection of yourself and your neighbor. Police cannot act as freely as vigilantes, but for good reason: they're held in check so that they are answerable to the people and to they cannot do harm to the people.

So I beg of you, any who would turn to vigilantism: consider instead working with the police. Particularly given recent events, the police force here needs those who have remarkable powers to help keep the citizenry safe. You will not be able to act as freely, perhaps, but you will be helping the city - and helping it in a way where you will not run the risk of overstepping your bounds and causing hurt.

Thank you very much for your attention. I welcome any disagreement or debate, and will freely and gladly engage any who wish to speak about this.

video | 001

[deduce]

<sub>[ Giving his identity away so early in the game seems like a mistake. Isn't that something comic book heroes like to hide away? He's not sure, he's never really been the type to invest in that sort of thing, but they wear masks and why wear a mask if they didn't want their identities kept a secret? Trusting the government here isn't an option, so Sherlock isn't going to give everyone his real name. No, he's going to use a persona on the network, at least until he can justify being himself, at least until he knows more about the situation he's found himself in.

After ruffling up his hair and unbuttoning his dress shirt down and past his chest, he turns his expression into one of bemused intrigue and then the camera's on him, recording his every movement as he shifts on the balls of his feet. When he speaks, his accent is cockney; central London through and through, it's a lovely 'oliday with Mary style, and he doesn't look too pleased with where he's found himself. ]</sub>

Cor blimey, it's hot, ain't it? You lot should do something about that, or we'll end up melting if we ain't careful. Take me back to rainy old England any day, at least there we know how to handle weather like this: complain and then complain some more, am I right? S'pose it's not all bad though - air conditionings a hell of a thing, but it wouldn't catch on back home. Doesn't get hot enough for it, I guess. It's getting hotter with that global warming though, or so they say.

Oh, right, my name's Tony, by the way. Yeah, Tony Kane; I'm from Poplar, London, if it weren't obvious.

_{[ He smiles a crooked little smile and offers a little wink down the lens. Ladies. ]}

So this is normal, then. They're not having me on with all of this power lark. I didn't have a pot to piss in at home and what, now I've got the ability to speak to animals, or something?

_{[ He laughs in disbelief, the camera shaking as he moves aside. It's not long before he pulls it back, though, and when his smile fades a frown starts to take its place. ]}

Look, mates, I'm gonna level with you: this is all bullshit, innit? And I'm mostly talking to the Brits here, because we don't have any of this patriotic shit, we're all about depreciative humour and a pint of larger down the local pub. And I don't mean no offence by that, it's just - we're of a different culture, ain't we? They can't really be expecting us to join in with their lot, can they? Swearing in and all that, I mean. I didn't fight for Queen and country to come over here and give my allegiance to a bunch of yanks.

_{[ He shifts his gaze beyond the camera at that, side-eyeing at the people passing him in the street. He's getting a few odd looks. ]}

I don't mean anything bad by it, it's just a lot to take in, and... yeah. I'll take this opportunity to shut my big fat gob, I think. So, uh, yeah. Thanks.