2008-01-03: Fighting Without Moving


Pierce_icon.gif Niki_icon.gif Nathan_icon.gif Charlotte_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif

Summary: Pierce namelessly introduces himself to two of his captives. Niki wakes up different than when she fell unconscious. Nathan is subjected to the doctor's orders. Cavalry equals chaos.

Date It Happened: January 3rd, 2008

Fighting Without Moving

New York

It's probably difficult to determine, but it's been at least 24 hours since Nathan, Niki, and Mohinder found themselves relocated to the dark godless rooms in the middle of Who-Knows-Where. It's only been within the last hour that Nathan and Niki were relocated again, though, this time to a single large room with bright overhead lights. The place reeks of the sterility found only in hospitals and dental offices — the room itself is not unlike an exam room, actually, with a sink and counters and cabinets and instruments of all sorts. There are even black squares of film hanging from a lamp against the wall: brain scans, it would seem. The major difference between an exam room and this one, however, is the pair of restraining chairs that Nathan and Niki will find themselves strapped into when they start to come out of the latest dose of sedatives.

The dark, unthinking, strangely dreamless place that the woman in this scenario has been in makes no indication of dissolving, but it will happen; the process is underway even now as the sedatives wear off, despite all appearances to the contrary. With her head slack, lolling to one side, Niki looks asleep — and despite the circumstances that brought her here, she looks almost peaceful. Ignorance is bliss! The prelude to waking up starts with a slow move of her head, a twitch here and there of a finger, and her lips coming together, moistening. There's a faint crinkling of her eyes against the brightness overhead. She must at least part awake, or she wouldn't notice the offending light.

Conciousness comes as a lapsing, negotiable entity, a jagged rock in an ocean that emerges and submerges with each rolling wave. When Nathan does open his eyes, it's with great reluctant, head turning and one arm twitching against his restraints as if he'd attempted to block the light. Mouth as dry as the Sahara desert, it feels like the world's worst hangover. When he does get up the bravery to look around, his gaze tracks towards Niki, knowing some alarm that she's strapped to a chair like that, before quickly realising he's in exactly the same situation. At least she seems to be coming too, and he won't be alone.

Nathan's head tilts back to rest against the chair for a moment, before swallowing to make sure his voice doesn't crack when he next speaks. "Niki," he says, hands curling into fists. The drugs are wearing off, slowly, and he tugs at the restraints, testing. "Are you okay?" The most hollow of questions, perhaps, given the situation, but his tone suggests he means, more so than the obvious.

A furrow forms between Niki's brows, borne of everything from confusion to discomfort and everything in-between. "Mnnh…" serves as her only answer, and it's barely that. She opens her eyes, instantly half-blinded by the stark, clinical brightness of the room. A natural inclination to move, sit up, and look around is met only with resistance, and a new wave of confusion washes over her with transparent obviousness. First, she looks down in mystified horror at he restraints, second, the room gets a wider-eyed but similar stare, and third, the man in the room with her earns a look that's almost equally as confused. And scared. "Okay" is not a fitting word, nope.

Mnnh. That serves a good an answer as any. Nathan allows himself a moment to close his eyes a little while longer against the bright white of the room. Maybe a minute ticks by. He looks over at the blonde woman again, and asks a question that can be summed up in one word. "Company?" For once, he actually hopes it is. Being the son of the Company's leader has to have some benefits. Of course, there would be the question as to why he's even here, but it could be some horrible mistake.

Fear is setting in more and more, and with the hurriedly increasing pulse comes a surge of adrenaline, but it doesn't do Niki any favours. Skin moist with sweat, and glaring and pale under the bright lights, she blinks at Nathan. Even though she's capable of breaking through these restraints easily (questionable, with whatever sedating drug this is in her bloodstream), she doesn't even try. Not really. There are a few squirms against the straps, but despite her determination … nothing. "I don't— " Her voice cracks, hoarse. "I… don't… understand… what's going on. Tell me what's going on," she demands. Like he'd have any reason to know?

The temptation to struggle is great, but perhaps watching Niki attempt it kills off the urge. Nathan seems relaxed, if somewhat crumpled back into his chair, the straps of his restraints just as relaxed if still taut from being secured. He turns his head away from her to really look around, this time, taking in the clinical atmosphere, the scans stapled up and backlit - all of which he takes in almost as an accident and he rather instinctively searches for a window, or any kind of escape. Not that it would do him good, restraints aside - he feels like he's thinking through pea soup fog in his brain. "I don't know," he answers, not looking back at her this time.

There are no windows; the only means of escape is through a door. And as though on cue, that door opens and in steps a tall older man with sandy blond hair and a pair of thin glasses perched on his angular nose. He's dressed in a white lab coat, tan slacks, and a plain white button-down shirt. The stethoscope draped over his neck would indicate that he's a doctor of some nature, even if he doesn't wear a nametag or anything of the sort. He's carrying a pair of files in his hands, poring through one as he nudges the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe. Then, glancing up at the pair, he offers them a smile that is far too cheerful and kind for the current situation. "Good morning," he greets brightly in a soft voice lightly brushed with a British flavor. "How are we feeling today?"

As Nathan looks away, Niki follows his gaze to the medical scans and starts to take in the finer details of the place herself. She squints, brow furrowed, at everything she sees — in no time, her face becomes a reflection of the struggle going on inside her head, not only to think clearly, but to try to piece things together. "Wh…" she starts to say, barely getting out the first syllable of a word that sounds like it was heading for the word "who" before her attention snaps to the doctor who then appears. "Who are you?" Her voice is a little shaky, but it only adds to the effect of her desperate demand for answers.

Tension sets into Nathan's body like quickly drying cement, every ounce of relaxation ebbing away, subtly, until the restraints creak a little as he shifts in his seat, watching the doctor with guarded wariness and barely restrained anger. A cold smile in the dark and a flash of twin glasses. Through the drugged haze that is the last twenty four hours, Nathan can collect that one image, blue print it over this far more real entity. He glances towards Niki as she asks the question on the top of his list.

"I'm a doctor," the man responds matter-of-factly. "I'll be treating you both." He unhurriedly crosses the room to the scans and glances over them thoughtfully, then sets down both files on a counter and picks up a pair of latex gloves. "Don't worry, it's perfectly harmless. Just some routine procedures." He hooks his leg into a rolling chair and smoothly draws it under himself as he perches on it, then picks up an otoscope and rolls himself over to the side of Niki's chair. "You didn't answer my question, by the way." This said as he moves to examine first one of the woman's ears, then the other.

Niki's hands grab the chair, fingers digging in as she flashes an angry expression on the new stranger. She watches his every move warily, twisting as much as she can in her chair to follow his movements — which isn't so say she moves very much, but her head sweeps about to keep track of him. She cranes away from his testing, glaring. "Don't touch me," she warns, her voice pitched a little higher than she probably intended. "What did you do to me? Get away!"

The restraints creak more as Nathan chooses then to pull against them as the stranger wheels his way towards Niki, and then again when she protests. He doesn't yell anything so manly as 'get away from her!' or similar, although the instinct is there. You don't get to be a husband and a father without some such instinct ingrained into you. But getting to the heart of the matter has to be more important than shows of anger, so he takes a breath. "I don't usually make appointments through being attacked by men with tranq-shooting rifles, doctor," Nathan says, with less venomous conviction than he'd like, the words coming out as a bleary murmur. "Why are we here."

The doctor frowns and draws away a little at Niki's struggles — the sort of patiently displeased expression one would use with an unruly child. "Now, Miss Sanders, please. I haven't done anything to you, but I might have to if you don't cooperate." He'll wait until she looks calm before approaching again. Meanwhile, Nathan's comments earn him a glance and a smile. It's not entirely warm. "You're here because you are special. Your friend is here because she also happens to be special — and she appears to have some very recent damage done to her brain."

The look Niki continues to give this unconventional doctor easily suggests that she doesn't believe him, but beyond that, it's more confused than ever. Nothing he says to her appears to make sense to the woman. She spares a swift glance at Nathan, turning her head so fast that she fights a spell of sickening dizziness immediately after, before bloodshot blue eyes pin on Pierce. "You're lying," she accuses him. "You … you did something to me— what do you mean … damage?" she leans back against the chair and slides her gaze over to the black-and-white scans.

Special, of course, special. Nathan resentfully casts his gaze away from the doctor, trailing it down to study his restraints, to see if there is any give at all despite his prior testing— and his gaze snaps back over towards doctor and unwilling patient at the word 'damage'. "And that had nothing to do with your people," Nathan says, wilfully voicing his own disbelief along with Niki's— although now the woman is treated to his own doubtful scrutiny.

The doctor is unruffled by the accusations, though he does arch an eyebrow in the manner of one who has just had the most ridiculous slander hurled in his face. "Of course it had nothing to do with my people," he remarks. "We're not in the habit of damaging the brains of our subjects." During capture, anyway. He glances to Niki again, then sighs quietly and rolls his chair back toward the scans on the wall. He indicates one set of them, which appears to show a few small dark specks in one area. "There appears to be a little clouding here in your cerebral cortex. Essentially, your memory has been turned into something resembling Swiss cheese. The damage appears to have been done very recently, but nothing the men used would have had such an effect on you — unless you have some sort of bizarre allergy to sedatives, which I doubt." He rolls back toward Niki. "Now, if you want to find out what's causing thins, I would suggest you hold still and let me examine you."

Scrutiny on Niki gets scrutiny right back, and that counts for Nathan as well as their doctor. She's still high-strung with tension even through the clinging fog of the sedatives as Pierce speaks — but she listens, and she shuts up. She's waiting for things to make sense. This is the closest thing to making sense she's heard so far and it's all she's got.

Ironically, if this man is telling the truth, the best thing for Niki right now is in fact a doctor. A piece of information Nathan finds especially difficult to swallow but he does, for now, going silent as Niki does for a moment. Tries to relax himself rather than than wind himself up into useless anger or, worse still, panic. His head rests back against the chair, tilting enough that he can watch what's going, and quietly, he says, "When I get out of here, you're gonna wish you never dragged me in here in the first place, you son of a bitch."

Now that Niki's calmed down, Pierce moves to stick the otocscope in first one ear, then the other, and then he withdraws a pen light from his coat pocket and checks the reflexes of her eyes. "Then I'll have to make sure you don't get out of here, won't I?" he remarks casually and absently, most of his focus on Niki. He wheels away again after his examination is completed, then returns with the implements needed for a blood draw. "I'll be taking a little blood from the both of you. Then we can do a lumbar puncture."

The out-of-sorts blonde stays pretty still for the length of the little examinations, but when Pierce responds to Nathan, her brows come together and her wariness amps up all the more. And again when he says the words 'lumbar' and 'puncture'. "Then what," she asks flatly with that underlying tone of demand.

Those are not words Nathan wanted to hear. Vaguely ill, he can only really glare balefully at the still nameless doctor for now, hands curled into fists, as if readying himself. He stays silent as Niki asks her question, wanting an answer for that one as well.

"Then you go back to your rooms while I do a few tests. We'd like to know what it is that makes you people tick." All this is said while Pierce attaches a tourniquet to Niki's arm and hunts for a vein. "And we'd like to know what it is that's eating your brain." The last is said to Niki, obviously. After all, if it's a virus of some nature that could be used to wipe out just the Evolved, it would serve a very nice little purpose.

Niki opens and closes her fist, eyeing the tourniquet. "You people," she says, repeating what Pierce said, testing it, as if trying to decipher … say, Esperanto. Just for example. None of this is sounding promising, and despite her need for answers, she shoves herself against the restraints in some attempt at escape. No go. She looks across at Nathan, gaze searching.

Sensing it on him, Nathan meets Niki's gaze - it betrays the fear he's trying to carefully keep clamp down, but there is a flicker of something. A smile? Not exactly. It's hard to convey feelings of alliance and reassurance without words, but the slightest twist at the corner of his mouth is hopefully enough to say: we're in this together. Maybe lost on a befuddled mind, but… he looks towards Pierce. "I'm a Senator-elect," he points out, softly. Hopefully. "You're compromising your operation by bringing in someone with profile." There's a wavery note of negotiation in his voice.

"I'm quite aware of who you are, Mister Petrelli." Pierce takes a second vial of blood from Niki before tamping on a cotton ball onto the spot and withdrawing the needle. He quickly presses a bandaid onto the spot and wheels around to Nathan's chair, where tourniquet and a clean needle are brought into play. "Don't worry. Your position is of no threat to us. Nobody even knows you're here." He offers the senator a tight smile before setting about the blood draw. "How is your memory, Miss Sanders?" he asks of the woman conversationally.

Every subtlety of Nathan's look might not be picked up by Niki, but enough are that she looks ever-so-slightly heartened, or at least more determined, and nods her head just barely. She didn't flinch at the needle drawing blood, but she looks down at the spot now that it's hidden by a band-aid. "I don't… you keep— saying that name," she ventures, wavering, "I don't know who that is."

The invasion of the needle is far from welcome, but Nathan only twitches away once before unwillingly consenting through stillness, letting out an impatient breath of air as the needle pricks skin, wincing minutely as it draws blood. He really, really hates these sorts of environments, if only because he spends far too much time in them. At Niki's response, he casts a far more worried, confused look towards her, not bothering to look at the doctor for answers. "Niki…" he says, but nothing more than that for now.

That actually causes the doctor to pause a moment and glance over his shoulder at Niki. Oh dear. Now isn't this interesting? "Who are you, then?" he asks her, slipping the second vial in place to catch another gush of blood from Nathan. He extracts the needle and, as before, gives Nathan a bandaid. Then he's wheeling away again to recover the bigger needle. The one used for lumbar punctures.

Niki has no answer for Pierce. She opens her mouth further to give one, but only draws in a breath and comes up with nothing, looking between the doctor and the Senator-Elect. While the doctor prepares whatever medical hell he has in store, she looks down, her gaze still searching — inwardly, this time. To say she looks distraught would be as huge an understatement as saying the needle Pierce has is intimidating.

Nathan says nothing for a moment, drawn to watching the doctor pick up the large needle. It's not a procedure he knows very well, but he knows that he doesn't want it. Diversion time. "Niki took some kind of medication," he offers, rather abruptly. "To help her with… something. Memory loss was a side effect. Why don't you put down your sword," a glance to the saber— needle in the man hand, "and check that out, huh? Do something good while you have us here?"

And back comes the doctor, moving first to Nathan and pressing a foot pedal near the base of the senator's chair. With a mechanical hum, the back of the seat begins to bend upward, drawing Nathan into a sitting position. And conveniently at the base of the chair's back is a large hole positioned perfectly right at the man's lower back. The doctor pulls up the back of Nathan's shirt and disinfects the intended area with a cotton swab. "'Good' is a relative term, Mister Petrelli. Besides, what is it you would like me to do? I can't do anything until I figure out what the medication is, which is impossible to determine without examining the blood test." He sets aside the swab and readies the needle. "Now, then, we're a little short on general anesthesia, so this is going to be a little uncomfortable." And by 'uncomfortable', he means 'this is going to hurt a lot'. "But do try not to squirm. You wouldn't want to be paralyzed, would you?"

Niki takes all of this in with as much confusion as before, but the looming threat of the doctor approaching Nathan with that needle, without anesthesia, manages to overtake her own concerns about herself. That's just… even more inhumane than this already is. She struggles against her bonds, feeling helpless. "Stop!" she shouts — like her voice has any power, in this situation. "What kind of doctor are you?!"

Nathan shifts uncomfortably against the restraints as Pierce readies the skin at his back, letting out a breath of mirthless laughter when he hears about the supposed lack of anesthesia. "You're kidding, right?" he says, tilting his head to address the doctor, though from this vantage point, he can't see much of anything. Which doesn't make it any better. Nathan glances towards Niki at her protests, but looks away again, her own sense of helplessness really only serving to highlight his own. His wrists begin to work against the restraints at his chair, legs tense up to pull at the ones at his ankles. "You think you can stick that thing in my spine and I'll just be a little uncomfortable?"

No. No, he's not kidding. And he's totally ignoring Niki's protests, too. "Mmhmm. Easy, now. Deep breath!" And with his free palm placed just above the spot, the doctor begins to ease the needle into Nathan's back. And it's not just a little discomfort. Not at all.

For two people who are "special," they don't seem to be anything other than helpless human victims, here, and although Niki doesn't grasp what's going on exactly, she can't just watch Nathan's inevitable pain and do nothing. So she fights. She struggles. She even screams, for Nathan's sake. Somehow it's not enough, so nothing is … all she can do. She thinks she's trapped— so she is.

The entire chair shudders just once at the first touch of the needle, a quick thrash against his restraints, but then it's easing in and he knows, intellectually, it will only hurt more if he moves. Nathan squeezes his eyes shut as the needle slides in, it feels impossibly deep, sweat breaking out on his forehead and hands clenched enough to form temporarily, crescent moon marks in his palms from his nails. Niki's fighting is background, meaningless for right now. At the very least, he holds back from crying out for a few seconds. When he does give in, its a rasping, wordless yell of pain that echoes off the corners of the room before clamping shut again. But he stays still, as suggested. He stays very still.

Once the doctor has the needle in as far as it needs to go, he smiles — or maybe he's smiling because of the screams. It's not easy to tell. "There we go," he coos lightly, as though he's just administered an injection to a terrified child. "Well done." A few drops of fluid are squeezed out, and then he makes preparations to withdraw the needle again — which will also hurt. Once the needle is out, he bandages up the spot and reaches around the back of the chair to give Nathan's shoulder a pat. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" Smilesmile. He then wheels over toward Niki, bringing along his little tray of joy. "You're next, my dear."

Niki is straining ahead against her restrains when the doctor approaches — she stares at him balefully, shaking her head over and over again. She tries to move her strapped-down legs in a mockery of, oh, running away. When Pierce and his little tray of doom are too close for comfort, her nervous squirming in the chair results in more than she expects: the pressure she's forcing against one arm restraint suddenly go ballistic, the restrain suddenly snaps free, and one bared arm of Niki's lashes out and knocks over the metal tray. It's sent flying with a loud crash and metallic ringing and scattering of supplies. Hopefully including any big freaking needles.

He doesn't open his eyes again, doesn't respond to the pat on his shoulder or the mock kind words given to him. He doesn't move at all, in fact, taking shallow breaths. Only when he hears the doctor move towards Niki do his eyes open. Slowly, Nathan turns his head to look over with a bleary gaze, watches her thrash. For a woman who could crush men with a metal table, she— there we go. The crippling ache in his back twinges sharply as he flinches from the sudden crash, gasping loudly as the movement brings on its own waves of pain, instinctive tears flooding his vision. Nathan only has one word of advice for her from his vantage point. "Run."

But it's not as simple as all that. As soon as the sound of the restraint's popping is heard, the doctor kicks his heels against the floor, moving himself back a safe distance from the flailing woman. His hand drops into his coat pocket just as the door opens and in step two large men, each armed, and each wielding a tranq pistol. They're held at bay by the doctor, who barks at them to 'wait'. From his pocket, he withdraws a syringe, which he uncaps and moves to plunge into Niki's neck, hoping to use the advantage of being behind her chair as a means of surprise. The curare shouldn't take too long to work. "Sedatives can't taint the sample," he growls at the thugs.

Run. Niki is looking at the metal tray on the floor and her freed arm like they're on fire or otherwise completely unbelievable, but with the reminder of Pierce being behind her, she lunges forward. Run. The restraints push away like tissue paper, but she's not quite fast enough to avoid being stabbed in the neck with a needle for the second time in twenty-four hours. That's only one that she knows of. She gives a small sound of distress. Her momentum keeps her going forward, out of the chair, onto her knees.

From here, Nathan can only watch. "No," he murmurs, uselessly, when a needle flashes into existence, a quiet warning that comes too late before he watches it getting plunged into the side of Niki's throat. Her collapse makes his body shift again, despite the shimmer of pain it brings, but there's really nothing he can do. He slumps back into his chair, breathing a little harder. "I wonder if she'll get to rip you to pieces before I can get my hands on you," he says, voice still strained as he glares across at the doctor.

After Niki is thusly incapacitated, Pierce hauls her back into the chair and frowns at it. "It doesn't do any good with all the restraints broken," he mutters, lips pursing. A quick glance is shot toward Nathan. Normally he'd be allowed a little time to rest, see, but with only one chair that has intact restraints …

"Unlikely," he responds to Nathan. "I think it's time you went back to your room, Mister Petrelli. I need your chair. One of these gentlemen will escort you back." He motions to one of the men, who moves forward to remove Nathan's restraints and help him to his feet. Moving. It's going to be less-than-awesome.

Niki, thus hauled up off her knees and sitting stiffly back in the chair she came from, lays back with wide eyes. The bad thing about curare is that while it paralyzes the nervous system, you remain aware of what's going on. "N-nno," she manages to say, voice a bit slurred all of a sudden. Nathan is her only ally in … the world, right now, and they're taking him away.

As much as he'd struggled before, Nathan seems very reluctant to even consider walking right now. He shrinks a little in his chair as the restraints are removed, shaking his head wordlessly in denial, dreading it, and wincing as the armed men go to grab him and steer him out of the chair, and away from the paralysed woman. His legs instantly buckle, a cry of pain, sharper than before, given in response, and then a strained if growled, "don't touch me, get off me," as he struggles. "Niki!"

It may be unexpected to see what happens next. Just behind Niki's chair and beside Pierce, there's…well it almost looks like static for a second. Just random dots of dusty static. It's not simply floating there, however, and it's sporadic. But smoothly the particles start to move together. They form the shape of two human beings, and then they seem to fade into being the people they had silhouetted. Within two seconds and no longer, there standing is Mariska and just behind her with a hand on her shoulder is Charlotte. Charlotte lifts her head and looks around, eyes rather wide. Well shit, this doesn't look like a happy place.

And almost immediately, the two men — one of which is helping Nathan — whip around and open fire with the tranq guns, aimed for both the intruders. Pierce swears quietly and drops to the floor amidst the instruments scattered by Niki's earlier flailing. His hand grasps hold of the long needle used for Nathan's lumbar puncture and he scrambles for a nearby cabinet. Shouts in that strange language again can be heard — backup is probably on the way.

Oh hi. The cavalry is here. Hope no one was getting too comfy. Once the two women have materialized within the room — directly in the middle of the room, too, mind you — it's the darker of the pair that begins to make a flicker-flash beeline for a certain Senator before his captor might successfully be able to take him away. Mariska's movement is staccato and sporadic — as if she were merely a projection for a film that has every fifth frame cut out. Each little flicker is accompanied by a pop! pop! pop! as the air and space around her distorts to accommodate the short jumps she's making, one step at a time. The dart that comes her way misses by a milisecond and lodges into the wall behind her.

What, no blaring trumpets? Already this is anticlimactic. Bastards. Even as the pair are materializing, they can see the tranq guns being raised in their directions, which may or may not explain their quick reaction time. Just as they come into view, while one of them is reaching for the grab-o-senator, the other is dropping to her knees behind Niki. Hey, Niki's already out, what'll a little more sedative do to her? Possibly kill her and all, but you know. Priorities. The cute little brunette reaches one hand around the chair, grabbing for Niki's ankle.

The room erupts into chaos, but it's all a lot of background noise to Nathan, spine on fire and sending out chords of pain through his body, down his legs, webbing out across his back. He's definitely not meant to be standing, let alone walking, right now. The whip-crack of Mariska's teleporting, however, cuts through the haze, and as the two men who are meant to be securing him open fire on both of— his rescuers? Hard to say. Yanking his arm out of the man's distracted grip, the Senator-elect can only make a loping stumble towards Mariska, hands reaching out for her.

When darts fail, the men go for lethal force. The tranq guns drop to the floor and out come pistols. The reports are deafening in such a closed space, and they're rapid: one man aims for Charlotte, the other for Mariska — and unfortunately, Nathan seems to have gotten himself in the way. The doctor has reached the cabinet and yanks open the door. From it, he extracts a syringe and bottle, pulls a dosage from the latter with the former, and ducks immediately as bullets start riddling the room. His quietly snarled curses are inaudible over the din.

This is just … chaos. Chaos is right. What kind of horrible world did she wake up in? Niki can't see her would-be rescuer; she can hardly move. If she realizes Charlotte is there at all, it'd be through kind of fluke. All she can see is people everywhere, the loud pop and crack of bullets flying. If she could jsut be anywhere but in the middle of it…

Getting shot was not part of the plan — nor was falling in love, losing their way, or getting caught behind enemy lines. Thankfully (or not), it's only the former that happens, much to Mariska's chagrin. She manages to make her way over to Nathan just in time to catch him before he faceplants into the floor. In the blink of an eye and with a sharp KRAK!, they both disappear with a quickness.

Charlotte is hiding! Hiding behind Niki, of course, which was totally the plan. So unless they want to shoot Niki, they don't have much of a chance of hitting Charlotte. As for Niki, poor dear, she may not feel the hand on her leg. She may not feel the tingly sensation of her body shimmering into little dusty particles, or the sudden feeling of no longer being in that metal chair. However, if she looks at herself, or at Charlotte, or even around, that's exactly what she'll see. Her vision will shimmer and fade and a new scene will open up as they appear somewhere else….


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