By AmyEarheart 6 Comments
Two Months Ago
Willow was in her office when the news arrived, carried, as usual, by head of security Lieutenant Spark.
"She's here," was all he had to say to get Willow onto her feet and following him out towards room 133. There was a string of questions, as if from a child with a new toy - or a found, well-loved toy. "Who found her? What is her condition? How long has she been here?" Those kinds of things. Spark kept his replies brief and simple, not really diverging anything. When Willow arrived, she realized why.
"What..." she began, then trailed off. The girl's body lay limply on an operation table in her former living space, already attached to life support. She wasn't dead, her vitals were all normal, but there was no sign of consciousness or life in her face.
"Some bounty hunter found her like that. We think she overextended her ability," one of the scientists in the room explained, somewhat nervously. Willow merely stared at the girl with a pained look in her eyes. Finally, Spark spoke.
"What do we do now?" he asked. Blanche took a deep breath.
"It's time for project 134 to activate."
She woke with a groan.
The room was dark. It smelled like antiseptics, like a hospital, and the back of her neck hurt like the dickens. She stared at the ceiling for a while, then drew herself into a sitting position. She couldn't see well, felt exhausted, and overall was in no condition to get up. She stared at the wall next, then looked down at herself. She wore a black vest over a white tank top, blue denim shorts, while a pink bag lay to one side of the (hospital?) bed she was sitting on. There were black cuffs around her wrists, and black and pink boots on her feet. She reached up and touched the top of her head. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and the tail was pulled through a baseball cap. She didn't bother pulling it off. Instead, she looked around, and saw a note taped to the opened door. She stumbled to her feet and read it:
You have three days headstart. Go as fast and far as you can. The challenges begin at the end of your deadline. Good luck on your adventure.
The numbers made no sense to her at the time. She shook her head and blinked at the paper for a few minutes before she realized it. She didn't know how long she'd been here, how much longer she had. All she knew was that she had three days before the "challenges" started, whatever that meant. She realized whatever she needed would probably be in her bag. She didn't bother looking in it, instead just slinging it over her shoulder and turning to the door while taking a deep breath. This was the beginning of some adventure, which her still-slightly-groggy mind couldn't even begin to comprehend. The bag seemed light, all things considered. She didn't look inside it. All she could think to do was take another deep breath, then step out the door. As she did so, something came to the surface of her memory. A name. Her name.
OOC: despite what others say this is my blog post, copyright Icefire Outlaw/Amyearheart. Fluff you Wheatley.