Deja Vu // Leo Valdez

001. FINDLAY'S (SECOND) VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY

FINDLAY NIXOND

WHEN FINDLAY NIXOND WOKE UP she didn't notice the desert scenery rolling past her, hear the rambunctious sounds of a dozen or so teens cramped in the small space, or feel the weight of her head resting atop someone's shoulder. For that very brief moment, all of her attention was inward, to the anger brewing in the pit of her stomach, her face contorted as if she'd been mid-insult, she searched through her body for a moment, trying to grasp onto whatever she was feeling before it slipped through her fingers like ash.

A fire came to life inside the pit of her stomach and she shot upward with a startle, the feeling burned with it, an afterimage in her mind slowly fading away. 

Everything came flooding in at once, a tidal wave of stimuli crashing into her at full speed. The dozen or so students scattered around her in the tiny school bus, the loud noise of the old engine roaring outside, the scraping of someone's nail against the glass, the feeling of the seat against her palms. All of it flooded into her brain at the same time, her hands stilled and she froze for a moment trying to make sense of it all, trying to grasp onto a semblance of logic and hold on tight. She searched for a thread of control in the ehap of chaos and found only panic at the lack of clear answers in her brain. 

She didn't seem to be in imminent danger, no obvious bloodthirsty monsters surrounded her, ready to claw at her throat, no cyclopses behind the bus trying to catch up to her, just a normal school bus with about ten to twenty students aboard. Loud and rowdy students were all doing their own thing, some chatting with their friends. Near the side, two guys were leaning over their seats, playing what looked to be Uno with the two behind them, a girl was trying to apply some mascara as her friend beside her seemed to be retelling a tale about her boyfriend, near the front, a guy was dosing off, head against the window as the person next to him drew a monocle with sharpie on the unsuspecting victim. A normal school bus, with what looked to be normal students at first and second glance.

A normal school bus she had no recollection of getting into.

What had just happened? Where was she headed to? What was the date? Search, search, search. Her brain went a mile a minute and a burst of pain shot through, its systems overworked, but Findlay kept searching, trudged, and fought through the pain until she could find an answer to one question, just one, that was all she needed. A sliver of some bigger pictures. What was the last thing she remembered? A pair of metal doors-- school doors? Yes, that was it. The Wilderness School. She'd arrived about to enter, hand pushed against the entrance door, and then she'd... A jolt went through her, and her head cramped up like five beating migraines suddenly soured through her all at once.

She winced, arms uncrossing as she lifted her hands to her head. That was not normal. Her eyes veered outside the window, scanning the scenery passing by, trying to pick up a date, a season, anything, but the desert scenery was useless.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and her body kicked back into action, her confusion wiping away to make place for her instincts. She snapped sideways, left hand clasping onto a wrist before her eyes flew upwards. She was met with a surprised and confused expression, even a tinge of concern, of a boy looking to be her own age and not a vengeful monster looking to kill her. As if burned, Findlay let go, moving her hand back towards her chest, clearing her throat.

Habit took over and a "Sorry," tumbled off her lips. Then she realized she didn't know who she was even apologizing to. Her mind had calmed down, but her mouth hadn't quite caught up and blurted out, "What's going on?"