[The feed starts out dark and shaky; it's hard to see anything beyond a pair of bloodshot, vivid blue eyes of the Eighth Doctor, looking terrified and guilt-striken.]

Please...help.

Nonononono. Stay away. I'll hurt you.

Oh, but no, you have to stop us. Keep us away from the children.

[A shaking hand, covered in layers of dried and fresh blood, rakes through his hair, streaking the curls in red.]

It's not us! I swear, we can't control it. I've tried. I'VE TRIED.

It's her! Thiazi--

[His expression freezes for a moment, then his eyes grow cold and a little malevolent grin plays at the corners of his mouth.]

--is always in control. Do give my regards to the Romanov woman.

Ta ta!

[The Doctor lets out a low chuckle, lifts the stained sword in his free hand, and the feed shuts off.]

[ Then it was that after two days on the unlocated front, Gwaine stumbled back in from his proverbial pub, which was more the opposite of a pub, and was in fact a soul-scrubbing due to untimely death.

There are experiences a man just doesn't need in life, but he supposes it's a bit late on that front. Now he's... got some rather unfortunate business to sort out. And he has to be tactful and subtle about it to boot. (One of the two at the very least, because the situation deserves that much.) He clears his throat, first and foremost, and while he's making every available effort to keep his tone light and casual, it's more subdued than it is either of those. ]

It would seem I've gone and missed a couple days' worth of events against my better judgement. If nothing else were to leave a foul taste in your mouth, that'd certainly do it. Hope I'm finding everyone alright in the majority- should you need a hand with something, just give a shout.

[ He pauses there for a few seconds. Part of him kind of doesn't want to ask, but wow. Of all times for the first two people he tried to contact when he got back to be out of contact? Seems like an ill omen. ]

And if anyone has word of Arthur Pendragon or Merlin, I'd appreciate it as much as anything right now. Been waiting on an important discussion with 'em.

[ I'm sorry, Asgard. I know you're in the middle of something incredibly serious right now, but Ash has only just woken up from his week-long nap. He has no idea what's going on. In fact, he doesn't even seem to realize that his communicator is on and filming him as he stirs from the pool table in the Roadhouse and cracks his back with a grunt.

Let's take a look at our sleeping beauty: His glorious mullet has been dyed rainbow colors, a Freddie Merrcury 'stache has been drawn in sharpie on his lip, and someone's put some very stylish aviators on him. The vision of loveliness. As he sits up and grabs for his communicator, he finally sees himself. ]

Oh, man. Talk about the rockstar look. [ Flashing a quick, exhausted sign of the horns 4 u all right here. ] Must've been out of it. Pretty cool look, though. Might keep it for awhile.

So, catch me up, Asgard. Give me deaths, invasions, arrivals, who won the Super Bowl. Anything you've got, Dr. Badass is here to listen.