Assassin's Creed: Firewall

Damn it Toto, Oz Would Have Been Better

Emma's head pounded as the sun pierced her eyelids through the open window. How much did she have to drink last night? Ugh, she really needed to stay away from the tequila; it was always her undoing on a night out.

At least it felt like she hadn't lost any of her clothing this time, that one top had been a bitch to replace...

With a groan, she shifted, dirt scraping against her face. Jeezus did she end up in the gutter? That would be a first. An awkward shape was digging into her side and with a start, she realized it was her belt, gun and all. Shit. What the hell happened?

Dimly memories came back, the crash, Abstergo and some psycho plan that involved using her as a guinea pig followed by a hallucination trip to top it off.

A voice made it through the dim fog of other voices, louder than the rest. Emma tried to focus on it to gain some clue as to where she'd ended up, but the man was yelling gibberish. Some language from the other side of the ocean most like, but not one she could identify or make sense of.

Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she sat up, bracing her back against the wall behind her. Stiff branches rubbed against her skin, and though it was the morning sun shining on her, it was already hot. Damn eastern summers, the abnormally cool temperatures were about to break apparently.

The voice only paused long enough for the man to refill his lungs before he was belting out again. Seriously, could someone please shut the crackpot up? She must have ended up on the reallywrong end of town to be suffering this psychobabble.

Blinking at the dusty building before her, she took a deep breath of the morning air and tried to orient herself. Instead, she started hacking, the sand filling her lungs and grating against her already parched throat.

Women in their Sunday best passed by without sparing her a glance. What part of town was she even in? More like which town, she mused to herself, she knew the city well, and all of its cracks. Not one of those was home to sandy dirt, preaching foreigners and women who flocked to church. Certainly there were all three, but never in the same place.

There was more wrong here than just the people and the building material. The very air was different, warmer, somehow lighter yet still heavy with the stink of so many people in one place. Even the sounds were off. Dogs barked where cars should have been honking and dimly it almost sounded like a horse neighing. The only horses were at Central Park and with the mounted patrol, neither of which had been anywhere near the Abstergo building.

Not that she believed she was anywhere near said building herself anymore. Dust lazily floated in the air from the crowds walking by, not a single mark of pavement in either direction. Looking closer at the people as they passed by the mouth of her alley, she blinked. Not their Sunday best it seemed. Dresses yes, but not of the like that had been seen in...well a long damn time. Even the men had robes over their clothes, at least she hoped there was clothing under there. What. The. Fuck?

Pulling herself to her feet, she braced a hand against the gritty wall of the two-story building behind her. It wasn't right either, no steel or brick, just brittle stone that shaved easily when she drug her nails across it. She would be hard pressed to say there were buildings this short inside the city. Where the hell did those bastards dump her? Had they knocked her out after the acid trip and kept her out long enough to drop her in some third world country? It almost seemed plausible at this point. Judging by the dress and construction, she'd go so far as to say....well that she didn't have a fucking clue. She wasn't some cultural expert or whatever. She was a cop, she knew New York.

"This isn't the city Toto." She muttered to herself, gaining more queer looks. Lovely. She was the new freak show in town apparently.

Stumbling from the alley, she tried to glimpse a sign of the skyscrapers, some way to orient herself. On a clear day like this, the Empire State Building should stand out even from the outskirts. But even in the open street, there was no towering building to guide her way. The tallest was no more than five or six stories, and it was more of a needle tower than a functional structure. The ground crunched and shifted beneath her boots in the areas it wasn't packed nearly solid. People swerved to give her a wide berth, even the men sent her disgusted looks. Well that was new. Sure not everyone was fond of cops (more so these days), but most times she still received several rather crude jokes about handcuffs.