http://angela-edmunds.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] angela-edmunds.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] shatterverse2008-04-28 10:28 pm

(no subject)

Angela Edmunds, aged seventeen, was heading out to a modeling shoot. She was sort of tired of them now and it took away from her surfing too much. And she did not want to do competitions and she didn’t feel like studying…

Ugh. It wasn’t that things were bad, they were just tiring. And dull. She shifted her carryall to the other shoulder, and began to walk towards her car…

She blinked from a white flash of light (sun must have been in my eyes), and suddenly, she was…somewhere else.

She was on a long stretch of highway, surrounded by desert and brush. “What the…fuck?” She turned around, this way and that, looking for her car, looking for anything moderately familiar.

It was hot, it was afternoon, and she was in the desert with only a liter of water in her bag.

“Oh, shit.”

First Milliways…now this? What the hell? What had she done to deserve…whatever this was?

“What the FUCK, universe?!” she shouted, pissed off beyond reason.

Well. Nothing to do for it but walk. So walk she does, grinding her teeth and refusing to drink her water until it was absolutely necessary. After a short while of walking, she comes to a sign.

“I-40 East,” she reads. She looks behind her. Los Angeles is…a million miles backward. She might have a better chance at finding help if she went forward.

“Shit, fuck, dammit, hell, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mutters under her breath. It’s quite possible she’s never cursed this much in her whole life.

Could be because she’s scared half to death. And she doesn’t have a gun.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

[identity profile] lastblackhawk.livejournal.com 2008-05-02 02:58 am (UTC)(link)
"Couple months now," Zinda says, frowning. "And there's folk here been here up to a year. Nobody's found a way out, not that we know of."

[identity profile] lastblackhawk.livejournal.com 2008-05-02 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah." Zinda hits a few dials and swings around on her seat to look over at Angela, cheerful. "All over. But this world seems t'know what it's doin' -- a helluva lot've the flashes-in are warriors, fighters, all that. And there's us. There's good folk too."

[identity profile] lastblackhawk.livejournal.com 2008-05-02 03:13 am (UTC)(link)
Zinda nods.

"We're all workin' together. People finding people they missed. There's one girl at the farm who's dead where I came from -- she's alive here, came in from another version of the world. Things ain't all bad -- you never know who you'll find or where." She leans over to pat Angela's knee, with a comfortable lack of any respect for personal space.

"I'm taking you there, I reckon. The farm. The ref camps in Metropolis are good, but Dinah's running fighting classes at the farm, and if you wanna help build the new world insteada just camp out in the ruins of the old one, I reckon you'll fit in better in Smallville."

[identity profile] lastblackhawk.livejournal.com 2008-05-02 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
Zinda nods, grinning. "Attagirl. There's plenty t'do at the farm. Say -- you're not freaked out by people with powers, right? Superhumans, metas, firebenders, all that?"

[identity profile] lastblackhawk.livejournal.com 2008-05-02 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
"You'll be all right," Zinda tells her, confidently. She grins.

"Once you get some more food into you, anyway. Go on, I'll restock once we get to the farm anyway. Claire's cupcakes are worth killin' for."