I've been told change comes to the ones who need it most...
It takes Georgia all of two seconds after stepping out of the trailer to realize something's wrong. Not that it takes a great deal of observational skills or situational awareness to pick up on that pretty quickly - early evening on a street in Chicago in September isn't a thing like Sacramento in July, in the middle of a heavily guarded convoy. It's loud and crowded, and too chilly for her thin shawl to do a damn bit of good, and that's just for starters.
Simple momentum carries her two or three steps along after that realization, and then she stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Her sunglasses at least hide the wide-eyed staring at the sudden change of scenery - without her eyes visible, she just looks somewhat surprised, and more than somewhat unhappy about it. She turns, slowly, to look behind her, but all she can see is more city street, and a part of her isn't surprised - she's pretty sure she would've noticed if the trailer started moving while she was inside it.
There's no convoy in sight, no trailer, nothing even a little bit familiar... and an awful lot of buildings that don't look even close to secure, built on pre-Rising designs and obviously not updated since. In a city this big... wherever she is... that can't even be legal. And everyone on the street is acting like there's nothing wrong with the lack of security - or with being outside in the first place, or with the number of people around, which is enough to make even the back of Georgia's neck prickle, with all her experience being around crowds. She can't even see a single person on the street who's visibly armed. Even setting aside the sudden, inexplicable transportation, this is wrong. Standing out here on the street staring at it isn't going to fix anything, though.
She's dying to pull up the GPS on her PDA and figure out where, exactly, she is, but all her instincts tell her she should treat this like a field system - and you don't lower your eyes to play with your equipment in the field, unless you're really anxious for a place on the wall. Instead, she starts walking as fast as is really safe in heels, and reaches up to tap her earcuff at the same time.
"Shaun," she requests, her voice tight with the effort of remaining calm. This really couldn't have happened at a worse time. Whatever this is. Either she's been kidnapped, or... well, a drug-induced hallucination seems the most likely explanation. Either way, she's blaming Tate.
The phone doesn't even get as far as dialing. There's a momentary pause, and then it lets out a low beep, and a bland female voice announces in her ear, "No signal."
"What?" Georgia snaps, a little too loudly. A passerby gives her a startled look, which she returns with a glare from beneath her sunglasses as the phone repeats, unhelpfully, that there's no signal. She clenches her jaw and keeps walking until she hits an alley, open at the near end, with a chain link fence blocking off the far end. It's not ideal, but she has a feeling she's not likely to find much better. She turns so she's facing the opening out onto the street, sets her shoulder against one wall, and pulls out her PDA. It beeps too, as she turns it on, and her heart sinks as the screen flashes the message: No signal found.
These days, you'd have to be in Alaska or behind several serious EMP screen to not get a signal at all. Here in the middle of a city, out on the street, it should be all but impossible to find a place where you couldn't pick up wireless. Confusion and nervous tension starts to edge into outright panic, try as she might to reel it in. She's in a strange place, without Shaun, with no idea how she got here and out of contact with anyone who might be able to help her... and she's wearing a dress. And heels. Essentially the only good thing about this situation is that she has a gun, but even that's failing to really comfort her under the circumstances.
Simple momentum carries her two or three steps along after that realization, and then she stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Her sunglasses at least hide the wide-eyed staring at the sudden change of scenery - without her eyes visible, she just looks somewhat surprised, and more than somewhat unhappy about it. She turns, slowly, to look behind her, but all she can see is more city street, and a part of her isn't surprised - she's pretty sure she would've noticed if the trailer started moving while she was inside it.
There's no convoy in sight, no trailer, nothing even a little bit familiar... and an awful lot of buildings that don't look even close to secure, built on pre-Rising designs and obviously not updated since. In a city this big... wherever she is... that can't even be legal. And everyone on the street is acting like there's nothing wrong with the lack of security - or with being outside in the first place, or with the number of people around, which is enough to make even the back of Georgia's neck prickle, with all her experience being around crowds. She can't even see a single person on the street who's visibly armed. Even setting aside the sudden, inexplicable transportation, this is wrong. Standing out here on the street staring at it isn't going to fix anything, though.
She's dying to pull up the GPS on her PDA and figure out where, exactly, she is, but all her instincts tell her she should treat this like a field system - and you don't lower your eyes to play with your equipment in the field, unless you're really anxious for a place on the wall. Instead, she starts walking as fast as is really safe in heels, and reaches up to tap her earcuff at the same time.
"Shaun," she requests, her voice tight with the effort of remaining calm. This really couldn't have happened at a worse time. Whatever this is. Either she's been kidnapped, or... well, a drug-induced hallucination seems the most likely explanation. Either way, she's blaming Tate.
The phone doesn't even get as far as dialing. There's a momentary pause, and then it lets out a low beep, and a bland female voice announces in her ear, "No signal."
"What?" Georgia snaps, a little too loudly. A passerby gives her a startled look, which she returns with a glare from beneath her sunglasses as the phone repeats, unhelpfully, that there's no signal. She clenches her jaw and keeps walking until she hits an alley, open at the near end, with a chain link fence blocking off the far end. It's not ideal, but she has a feeling she's not likely to find much better. She turns so she's facing the opening out onto the street, sets her shoulder against one wall, and pulls out her PDA. It beeps too, as she turns it on, and her heart sinks as the screen flashes the message: No signal found.
These days, you'd have to be in Alaska or behind several serious EMP screen to not get a signal at all. Here in the middle of a city, out on the street, it should be all but impossible to find a place where you couldn't pick up wireless. Confusion and nervous tension starts to edge into outright panic, try as she might to reel it in. She's in a strange place, without Shaun, with no idea how she got here and out of contact with anyone who might be able to help her... and she's wearing a dress. And heels. Essentially the only good thing about this situation is that she has a gun, but even that's failing to really comfort her under the circumstances.