Clarissa is, ironically, one of the lucky ones. First to appear in a strange new place, right when she was due for more system blockers. Her head is starting to clear when there's a flash of light, and she thinks she's having a stroke, but no, it's... a different place. The air quality has changed. She no longer feels... well, she no longer feels underground.

Unfortunately, she's still in the prison uniform she woke up in. But no one seems to notice or care. She's just here, blinking in the fluorescent light, a little gaunt but not distressingly so. Hopefully not noticably.

Clarissa's recently-abandoned second life taught her to keep her head down. Acting as though you know where you're supposed to be is a great way to escape notice. She walks briskly, trying to ignore the dizzying questions, where am I and why am I here?

Which works great, until she gets outside and is nearly hit by traffic. It's so fast and loud, how did she miss it? Except, the wheels are so strange, and- She falls backward, confused and gaping, as the taxi honks before speeding away.

Arriving in New York, in any time or place, without money or contacts is generally a bad idea. Clarissa is grateful language hasn't changed much over the last few hundred years; she can at least read news headlines and figure out the date, where she is and what she's supposed to know. She's faked so many aspects of herself in order to fit in, to hide, to exist, this is another challenge she accepts almost unthinkingly.

It is 2020. Mankind has never stepped foot on any planet beyond Earth. Her name is unknown or attributed to an ancient, unrelated dictator.

And it is so, so much easier to steal.

No credit chips, no item tracking, just simple cameras. Clarissa was never an accomplished thief in any of the lives she's lead, but the simple fact of having to worry about so much less emboldens her.

1: Maybe you see her quickly and efficiently stealing a hot dog, and devouring it eagerly. Whoever this woman is, she's clearly very hungry.

2: Or maybe, about twenty minutes after that, you find her leaning against a dirty wall, retching. The hot dog didn't agree with her.

There's a raid. She's been reading about them in every scrap of papr she can find. This is more and more obviously not a dream or a hallucination, which only doubles her desire to learn and learn well, and this- this is something she needs to know about.

People with powers and abilities are hunted here. It's like something out of an old movie, so silly she can't believe it, until she sees their wretched faces as they're lead away at gunpoint. It takes a moment, Clarissa watching on the sidelines, for her to truly care. A young boy resists, and he's shot. An older woman-- a mother? A sister?-- wails, and Clarissa thinks she looks like Julie.

And she thinks, Can one truly good act...

The difference now is, well, she's pretty sure she won't die.

Clarissa runs into the fray, not blocking the gunfire with her body-- a fool's errand-- but attacking the man with the gun. Her strength is formidable, considering she's such a small, frail-looking woman in baggy scrubs.

[go crazy!]