Call it cabin fever, but lately Felicity wasn't feeling like herself: everything was wrong and Coraline was depressed and ill and she didn't know how to help. She thought that maybe sometime reading would get her mind off of things.
She had to do a double take when the body of a woman appeared on the floor. Said woman was so still, pale, and her eyes were open-Felicity had only seen a body like that once,and it was when her grandfather had died. Then she saw her blink and move about and the suddenness of it all nearly sent Felicity screaming.
Thank god she was able to stop herself before she did.
Not only did the place Quorra found herself looked nothing like any any part of the grid she'd ever even heard of, but she found herself looking at a much smaller program than she'd previously encountered.
It didn't look dangerous, but she had learned to be wary.
Felicity almost felt it was rather funny-almost-that a full grown woman would look at her like she was a threat. But then she had read of young people being used as assasins so maybe she was wary in that sense.
Still, she was a new arrival and frankly-she didn't look so well.
She attempted to speak. "Are you alright?" Location could be dealt with later, right now...she didn't want to jump to conclusions but the woman did look rather faint.
He's virtually sure that it's not Remy. Yes, he's spent a couple of hours in the Hub, and, yes, he's got a fairly pleasant buzz going in the middle of the afternoon, but he's still sure that it's not Remy. Her hair's different, obviously, but it's more than that; it's something about how she holds herself and the expression on her face.
Brad's used to seeing somebody else with his face, but seeing somebody who looks that much like somebody he loves? It's fucking weird.
"Hey," he says, still shrugging out of his layers for the second time today.
It was not the first time she'd ever been rebooted, but it was certainly the most disorienting. Usually, Flynn had been there, but this time there was just some stranger program, who didn't even appear to have operational circuits.
Her first instinct was to go for her identity disc, and go on the defensive. She held her attack, however, because she wasn't about to attack someone in the middle of undressing.
"Greetings," she said, entirely uncertain of her current status.
He finally strips down to his t-shirts and his jeans and pushes both hands back through his hair as he studies her. She's got to be new; there's no way she's been around and he hasn't noticed her, or heard about her from Nate. There's no way.
"Pretty disorientating, right?" he says, assuming that and moving a litle closer, offering his hand. "Brad Colbert."
Okay so this was a little weird. Zoe liked to consider herself to be an unofficial expert in all that was weird or questionable. Everyone had to have a niche. Her's happened to be the dorktastic.
Come on, her boyfriend was channelling Luke Skywalker or something twenty-four seven. If that wasn't nerdy, she didn't know what was.
So she was sitting on the sofa across from the woman who has just appeared there and looks, to put it bluntly, completely fucking out of it. Maybe she was dead, maybe she wasn't but the only way to know was to wait. That was why Wired was invented.
Being stared at by a stranger who seemed to be expecting something from her was not what Quorra would have guessed would be the first thing she's seen upon completing startup. Especially not when the last thing she'd seen before shutting down had been a bunch of programs who had been trying to kill her.
She jumped to her feet and backed herself up against the wall, identity disc in her hand without a thought.
"Identify?" she said, trying not to sound quite as shaky and disoriented as she felt.
Zoe took one look at the disc and rolled her eyes. Oh please. Light up frisbee? That would only be awesome if it was dark out and she was high on something neither of which are true.
"Zoe." She'd recently watched Caprica and been a little weirded out by the appearance of Eve-symbolism once again. Yeah, she got it. Her name meant life. Doesn't mean she needed a book about that. Turning the page in her magazine, she looked at the woman. "Deep breathes, dark haired on. Think calm thoughts."
This was obviously not some kind of game program. If it was, she'd already be fighting for her life, instead of just being looked at like she was in the wrong sector.
"I'm calm. I might also be dead, but it's not what I expected."
Nate doesn't stop to consider that the woman lying on the floor might not be his wife. The outfit isn't precisely normal, but he's seen it before (And, well, taken it off before, if you want to get technical about it), is pretty sure it's been hanging in the back of Remy's closet since Halloween. There's enough familiarity to it that he doesn't stop to think how misplaced it is, worn in the middle of a festive Whoville living room
( ... )
"Okay?" Quorra looked around, wondering if that word even still meant what she thought it did, since nothing else made sense. So many questions crowded in on each other all at once, and she was a little bit worried about experiencing some kind of overload.
The stranger did seem to be trying to help her, and she let him. She knew well enough that kindness should not be taken for granted.
"I'm sorry," Nate begins, genuinely apologetic and looking it. "I don't know Flynn or Sam. This may sound a little strange, but wherever you just were, you're not there anymore." There really isn't any nicer way to put it, in his experience; people either accept the information or they don't, and reactions to it vary as much as individual personalities do. "I'm Nate," he adds, before he gets wrapped up in explanations and forgets.
"I can see that." She was still getting her bearings, but she was clearly no longer in the middle of a fight at the End of Line. "I'm Quorra, and I need to find them. They might not be okay. How did I come here? I need to reverse that."
She had somehow arrived in this place, after all. Leaving should be just as easy, once she understood how it worked.
I was used to seeing some pretty strange things here on the island, the Whoville decorations the most recent example, but nothing could have prepared me for Remy laid out in her Halloween costume, still as a corpse. I'd seen corpses before, mine and Shari's, some people I'd help to cross over. It never gets easier.
"Shit! Remy? What did you take? What's going on?" I shook her, wondering if maybe she just OD'd and wasn't actually...
As if being rebooted wasn't disorienting enough, being shaken back to consciousness added an entirely new dimension of confusion. Especially since the the person shaking her was not Flynn, or Sam, who she would have expected. It wasn't anyone she had ever seen in her life and all she could think to do was to try to get away.
Still trying to catch her breath, she pushed herself backwards across the floor and out of his grasp.
"It's me, Peter," I offered, thinking that if she'd taken something maybe she wasn't up to face recognition yet. No telling, on this island, and after the scare with Savannah earlier in the month I wasn't taking any chances.
Quorra shook her head, hoping maybe that would help her language processing functions work again, because the words she was hearing made no sense to her at all.
"No, I don't remember," she said, seizing onto the one thing she understood. "Where am I? Where's Flynn?"
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She had to do a double take when the body of a woman appeared on the floor. Said woman was so still, pale, and her eyes were open-Felicity had only seen a body like that once,and it was when her grandfather had died. Then she saw her blink and move about and the suddenness of it all nearly sent Felicity screaming.
Thank god she was able to stop herself before she did.
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It didn't look dangerous, but she had learned to be wary.
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Still, she was a new arrival and frankly-she didn't look so well.
She attempted to speak. "Are you alright?" Location could be dealt with later, right now...she didn't want to jump to conclusions but the woman did look rather faint.
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The small program didn't appear to have any active circuits. She'd be concerned, if her own weren't still a healthy blue.
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Brad's used to seeing somebody else with his face, but seeing somebody who looks that much like somebody he loves?
It's fucking weird.
"Hey," he says, still shrugging out of his layers for the second time today.
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Her first instinct was to go for her identity disc, and go on the defensive. She held her attack, however, because she wasn't about to attack someone in the middle of undressing.
"Greetings," she said, entirely uncertain of her current status.
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"Pretty disorientating, right?" he says, assuming that and moving a litle closer, offering his hand. "Brad Colbert."
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Handshake. She knew all about those, even if most programs didn't bother.
"My name is Quorra."
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Come on, her boyfriend was channelling Luke Skywalker or something twenty-four seven. If that wasn't nerdy, she didn't know what was.
So she was sitting on the sofa across from the woman who has just appeared there and looks, to put it bluntly, completely fucking out of it. Maybe she was dead, maybe she wasn't but the only way to know was to wait. That was why Wired was invented.
"Any time now..." she drawled completely bored.
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She jumped to her feet and backed herself up against the wall, identity disc in her hand without a thought.
"Identify?" she said, trying not to sound quite as shaky and disoriented as she felt.
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"Zoe." She'd recently watched Caprica and been a little weirded out by the appearance of Eve-symbolism once again. Yeah, she got it. Her name meant life. Doesn't mean she needed a book about that. Turning the page in her magazine, she looked at the woman. "Deep breathes, dark haired on. Think calm thoughts."
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"I'm calm. I might also be dead, but it's not what I expected."
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The stranger did seem to be trying to help her, and she let him. She knew well enough that kindness should not be taken for granted.
"What did they do to Flynn? And Sam?"
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She had somehow arrived in this place, after all. Leaving should be just as easy, once she understood how it worked.
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"Shit! Remy? What did you take? What's going on?" I shook her, wondering if maybe she just OD'd and wasn't actually...
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Still trying to catch her breath, she pushed herself backwards across the floor and out of his grasp.
"Who are you?"
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"Remember? Halloween?"
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"No, I don't remember," she said, seizing onto the one thing she understood. "Where am I? Where's Flynn?"
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