The world could end and it would feel no worse than this... [Closed]
who ; Georgia Mason, Steve Rogers, and Shaun
what ; This is literally the worst possible time to fall through a space-time rift. The rift... doesn't seem to care.
where ; Junkyard
when ; Now!
warning(s) ; Impending zombification! Plus a suicide attempt (does it count if you're already legally dead?) and probably a lot of cursing. :|
Georgia scrambles to her feet almost the moment she lands, gun in hand. It takes considerably longer than a moment for her to get her bearings. She turns in a circle, scanning the area with her gun raised just in case she spots something that looks like a threat. She doesn't. As far as she can see, nothing's moving among the twisted piles of junk... except for her.
She can't convince herself for even a second that the van or even the convoy is somewhere nearby. This isn't Sacramento. This isn't anywhere she recognizes. So... what? She's drugged? Hallucinating? It doesn't seem unlikely Tate or whoever he's working for might knock her out and kidnap her, but she'd have expected to wake up in cell or a lab somewhere, not... whatever this is.
A three-tone chime sounds overhead, and a pleasant voice - Georgia's guess would be a computer rather than a real person - welcomes her, and warns her to watch her step. She rolls her eyes. "A little late, but thanks," Georgia mutters as she starts toward what looks like it might be the edge of this scrap heap, with actual buildings and hopefully some answers about what the hell's going on. She doesn't put the gun away.
what ; This is literally the worst possible time to fall through a space-time rift. The rift... doesn't seem to care.
where ; Junkyard
when ; Now!
warning(s) ; Impending zombification! Plus a suicide attempt (does it count if you're already legally dead?) and probably a lot of cursing. :|
Georgia scrambles to her feet almost the moment she lands, gun in hand. It takes considerably longer than a moment for her to get her bearings. She turns in a circle, scanning the area with her gun raised just in case she spots something that looks like a threat. She doesn't. As far as she can see, nothing's moving among the twisted piles of junk... except for her.
She can't convince herself for even a second that the van or even the convoy is somewhere nearby. This isn't Sacramento. This isn't anywhere she recognizes. So... what? She's drugged? Hallucinating? It doesn't seem unlikely Tate or whoever he's working for might knock her out and kidnap her, but she'd have expected to wake up in cell or a lab somewhere, not... whatever this is.
A three-tone chime sounds overhead, and a pleasant voice - Georgia's guess would be a computer rather than a real person - welcomes her, and warns her to watch her step. She rolls her eyes. "A little late, but thanks," Georgia mutters as she starts toward what looks like it might be the edge of this scrap heap, with actual buildings and hopefully some answers about what the hell's going on. She doesn't put the gun away.