Out of the Swirling Fog...
Jesse Quick, aka Jesse Chambers, CEO of Quickstart Enterprises had no idea where she was. When she thought hard about it, she remembered there had been hypertime and the speedforce involved, which meant she didn't know when she was either.
She and the others had left with Rip, to save the world as they knew it. She remembered that. There had been a big... something. It had seemed critical at the time. Something had gone wrong, while she was running. It could have been her powers, it could have been something else. It was all... misty... out of focus. Thinking about it made it worse, like turning the knobs on a microscope the wrong way.
And now, she was beat up, sitting on the hard, cold concrete, somewhere in space and time. Also, her goggles were loose, like they were about to break.
Jesse looked around. There was swirling snow. Was it snow, or was it fog? Jesse couldn't see any individual flakes, so fog seemed likely. There was swirling fog. It matched the fog swirling in her brain.
Swirling fog, and a light. Jesse got up and walked closer. Swirling and a streetlight, illuminating a patch of worn concrete, and a crumbling curb that hadn't seen repair in years. Visions flashed through her head: run down parallel universes, apocalyptic futures, plagues, and wars. As she looked around for a hint she found a sign. Literally, a street sign. She recognized the streets. She was in the Bronx.
Jesse sighed, and shook her head to clear it. It just made her goggles looser. Keeping a hand on her goggles, Jesse turned and headed toward the nearest safehaven she knew, the JSA Brownstone.
No matter the time of night someone would be there, right?
She and the others had left with Rip, to save the world as they knew it. She remembered that. There had been a big... something. It had seemed critical at the time. Something had gone wrong, while she was running. It could have been her powers, it could have been something else. It was all... misty... out of focus. Thinking about it made it worse, like turning the knobs on a microscope the wrong way.
And now, she was beat up, sitting on the hard, cold concrete, somewhere in space and time. Also, her goggles were loose, like they were about to break.
Jesse looked around. There was swirling snow. Was it snow, or was it fog? Jesse couldn't see any individual flakes, so fog seemed likely. There was swirling fog. It matched the fog swirling in her brain.
Swirling fog, and a light. Jesse got up and walked closer. Swirling and a streetlight, illuminating a patch of worn concrete, and a crumbling curb that hadn't seen repair in years. Visions flashed through her head: run down parallel universes, apocalyptic futures, plagues, and wars. As she looked around for a hint she found a sign. Literally, a street sign. She recognized the streets. She was in the Bronx.
Jesse sighed, and shook her head to clear it. It just made her goggles looser. Keeping a hand on her goggles, Jesse turned and headed toward the nearest safehaven she knew, the JSA Brownstone.
No matter the time of night someone would be there, right?