Voice

[nolongerasleep]

My apologies for the interruption. [Lithia pauses for a moment, as if she's not quite sure the communicator is working as it should. Her world may have such technology, but it certainly isn't handed out so freely or so commonly used.] Well, I certainly hope this is actually working.

First, how trustworthy are the people who wrote those pamphlets and files? [She's just a bit creeped out by the amount of knowledge they had, plus the people who know that sort of thing either wouldn't tell or are trying to kill her, so it's a valid concern.] They certainly have some rather classified information.

Second, how safe are the things they embedded in us? These nanites I think they were called? [She's still wondering also how they accomplished that, her skin isn't exactly easy to pierce.]

And my last question, what sort of work could a person who has powers that heal and can make technology using those powers do in this place, besides apparently being a cat groomer?

Thank you for your time. Oh, I probably should also introduce myself so as not to be rude. My name is Lithia Spodumene, but I can just be called Lithia. [She knows her last name is a pain to spell and pronounce. Also, if any characters are particularly knowledgeable about geology they can certainly put together the fact that she's named after two related minerals.]

ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ;;

[latro]

This is Hood.

[ The sounds are unmistakable; the clinking of glasses, soft rock music, muted chatter. Hood's on a bar, be it for the booze or for the memories, he ain't telling. It's a little bit of both, really. At least in there he can pretend the crazy world he's been dumped into exists at all. As long as he doesn't walk out again there's nothing to worry, right? ]

Someone fucked up. [ There's a hint of irritation in his voice. ] They wanted a hero, they got me. I'm honored, really, but I sort of quit that life. [ Being a cop and being a hero aren't exactly the same, but that's as close as he's ever going to get. ]

I get it, though. No going back, at least not willingly. Fine. [ A pause; that whiskey isn't going to drink itself. ]

Just... you go your way, I go mine. Got it.

Good.

[ As if he would wait for an actual reply, pffft. ]