3.1

The sound of distant sirens caused a young girl to stir awake. She groggily raised up from the broken and busted mattress, rubbing her eyes with a spindly hand to wipe away the blurriness.

Blinking once, her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she looked around her. She seemed to be in a motel room, a dingy one at that. The neon fluorescent sign that flickered 'Queen Motel' every few seconds was outside the window and was currently the only light source.

'Ugh...did you just transfer me?'

'You seemed eager for work, so I just threw you in while you were resting,'  008 responds cooly. 'I believe that this world may be more to your liking than the previous ones.'

'You could've told me-'

'That is noted for next time.'

'Cut the sass, 008...' The villainess felt a headache come on as she strained to see anything in the dark.

There oughtta be a lamp on the dresser...

She wriggled up in bed, feeling as if she had just been hit by one thousand trucks.

"Damn," she groans, propping her right hand up on a foreign surface next to her...it feels like a nightstand...

The girl leaned over and reached over her left arm towards the dresser, but felt as if her arm was constricted. Wincing, she moved her right hand to the dresser, patting around until she felt the dangly cord.

With a slight tug, her world was immersed in a warm glow.

Sighing, the girl glanced down at her left arm. A poorly-patterned orange polka dot scarf was tied around her lower bicep, a drained needle sticking out of her inner arm. Other track marks were darted around her arm, as haphazard as the ugly scarf.

'Welcome to your new world, Eman.'

The girl scoffs, ripping out the needle and slamming it on the desk.

'I certainly don't feel so welcome,' she grunts back, untying the scarf from her arm. 'How can I talk to you, being drugged and all?'

'You were placed in the body after the effects of the drug have worn off. Now, you're feeling the fun part: the withdrawal. The original body has been knocked out for 3 days or so,' 008 answers. 'Now, would you like your information?'

'Of course,' Eman responds, inhaling sharply as the information poured into her head.

The year is 1763. However, this universe seemed to be a mirror to the tenth power of a similar version of her old world.

Maybe this is why 008 thought I'd like it...?

This world is different than her old one all because of one event: the Library of Alexandria bursting into flame.

In this world, that never happened.

Because of this, society advanced much faster. Wars were still waged, new countries formed from colonies, not much really was affected...except it was all set earlier than it was in Eman's original world. Now, 1764 was the equivalent of the 1950s and 1960s of her old world.

Oh, and a genetic mutation caused about 20% of the population to have superpowers.

She is a Robinson, member of the infamous Robinson Clan. The Robinson Clan was a small family of con artists, each with their own powers. Her parents, Ruth and Harry, considered themselves artists with their cons. Together, they fell in love with the act of swindling people and got married so they could pull off bigger cons. This resulted in the four Robinson Children.

This body was Lorraine Robinson, the third Robinson, and she is only 21 years old.

She has an two older brothers, Luciano and Lorence, who are 5 and 3 years older than her respectively. Lorraine happens to have, rather, had a twin sister. A month ago, everyone had been called to a rented out bed-and-bath for a future heist-planning. However, someone wiretapped the telephones and found out the location of the meeting.

The police fired off a round into Ruth and Harry while the house was set ablaze with the 4 children inside.

After the fire, Lorence, Luciano, and Lorraine briefly saw each other in their separate escapes, but not Lucille. Wordlessly, the remaining Robinson heirs split, just hoping to survive.

And clearly, Lorraine wasn't too good at surviving on her own.

Tracing the faded circular scars on her arms, the transmigrator realized how long Lorraine had been using drugs. How stressful being a Robinson was. If one wasn't perfect, then Mother Robinson would...

Lorraine shakes her head in disdain. None of that, now.

Besides, I have more important matters to attend to than the past. Being an addict on a mission won't do.

The rest of the memories showed how Lorraine became so addicted to heroin that she tried to con people again to get money. However, she was unable to do anything on her own and was thus imprisoned. After that, she died from a seizure.

At least she wasn't directly killed by someone else...

'What's the goal?' Lorraine asks, standing up from the bed as her joints crack wearily.

'To steal this country's most important treasure,' 008 answers. Lorraine's brows furrow.

'Isn't that a bit subjective? How do I know if it's the most important or whatever if you don't tell me what the object is?'

'Hmm...well, once you figure out what you want to do, I'll relay it back to Corporate. I can tell you if it'll be enough to get the points. Until then, you must survive.'

'Sounds like a deal,' Lorraine grunts out in acknowledgment, grabbing the faded gold doorknob. She swings open the dingy bathroom door and flicks on the lights.

Lorraine's eyes widened at her appearance, pausing completely. A slow hand moves to touch her gaunt cheekbones, and the person in the mirror mimicked the hauntingly slow action.

God, I look like a walking skeleton from a Tim Burton movie.

Her clothes certainly didn't help. It looked as if the original Lorraine had stolen this red-and-black dress on the run, especially with how there's still the XL price tag on it. The skirt flared outwards like a bell, falling just at the knee of Lorraine's long legs.

Lorraine moved back, looking at her hair, damaged and frizzy from excess bleaching.

I can tell that my eyebrows aren't bleached, so why did the original even bother making her hair more blonde? Now my hair is as yellow as a highlighter...

Just then, Lorraine's stomach grumbled. Sighing, the girl went back into the motel room and grabbed the stupid scarf from the floor and tied it back from her face.

'008, is there a gas station nearby?' she asks, ransacking her own purse.

'Yes. You just have to walk across the street, it's open 24/7. If my memory serves me correctly, there is a twenty-dollar bill in your purse."

Lorraine's joints click as she squats down, rifling through her purse for any cash. Finally, she pulls out a crumpled bill.

It was a light periwinkle, with a picture of a distinguished-looking old man on it, unrecognizable to Lorraine's eyes.

'Is this it?'

'Affirmative.'

Lorraine set it on top of her purse's junk-pile before slinging it over her shoulder. Quickly, she stood up and put on the kitten heels by the door before she wobbled across the deserted street.

The fluorescent lights of Polancha Gas Station shone brightly, causing the girl to squint at its clinical fluorescent lights. Polancha Gas and the motel Lorraine had just crawled out of seem to be the only buildings for miles. A few cars scattered a make-shift parking lot beside a rusty bus stop sign.

With her right arm, Lorraine pushed open the gas station door with the tinkling of bells. The cashier jerked up at the sound of the bell, awkwardly smiling at Lorraine as he rubbed the guck from his eyes. Tinny tropical music bleated out of a small radio sitting beside him.

"Welcome," he croaks out. Lorraine ignored him in search of the magazine aisle, skimming through the titles with watery eyes until she finally found what she was looking for.

Picking up the fashion magazine, Lorraine flipped through it, looking at the trends. They were definitely in accordance to this body's memories. The hair seemed to be early 1960's, the fashion late 50's, the technology a blend of a lot of things...

Everything was completely different.

Putting down the magazine, Lorraine walked to the hair dye section and picked up a box of dark blonde dye. She continued to the food aisle and found a bag of chips, before walking back over to the clerk.

He clears his throat awkwardly as he scans the items.

"You're dying your hair?" he asks, causing Lorraine to arch a brow. Was it not clear enough she didn't want to talk?

Remember, Eman, this isn't the war anymore.

Lorraine pastes on a fake smile, feeling her lips crack. "Yes, I can see my roots coming through."

The clerk laughs, scanning the food items. "I see. That'll be $8 flat."

Lorraine looks behind the counter, seeing a map of where all the Polancha stations are across the country. Her brows furrow when she realizes that this body has no memories of where she was.

That damn druggie!

"Sure, sure," Lorraine starts, handing him the money. "Anyway..." she trails off, looking at the clerk's nametag, "Wyatt..."

"Yes?" he perks right up.

"My...man and I came in late from the bus stop, and we think we got lost. Do you know where this town is?" Lorraine asks as she puts the dye and chips into her side bag.

"Oh, sure," he says, backing up. Wyatt takes a sausagey finger, pointing at a small star, far, far away from other stars on the map. "This is Yernicke, Arnessee. Oh, and here's your change-"

He drops a few bills into her hand. With the body's memories, the currency felt familiar, yet so strange...

"Thank you," Lorraine says with a brief nod as she shoves the money in her purse, but on the inside, she was panicking.

Arnessee?! That wasn't one of the fifty states! Based on the map, there's only 30!

'You said not much had changed, 008!'

'Who can judge?' 008 snarkily responds. Eman resists the urge to roll her eyes.

'Listen, I know I was being a bit of a bi-'

'You were.'

'Just let me apologize, damn it!'

"Um, ma'am, are you alright? Your lips are bleeding," Wyatt chortles, causing Lorraine to snap back into reality.

"Hm?"

"I said, uh, your lips are bleeding."

"Oh," Lorraine feels her bony hand rest upon her thin lips for a moment. Her lips were bone dry, save for the wet blood that had begun to drip from the cracks.

"Sh...Should I get you a tissue?"

"No, that'll be alright," Lorraine comments, unphased. With the back of her hand, she wipes the blood from her lips, smearing some across her hollow face.

Wyatt winces, put off by the gaunt woman before him. Who wouldn't? Her paper-thin skin was pulled taut over her bones like a drum, clinging to the little fat she had left. And her eyes were...well, quite perturbing.

'Why the hell is this kid staring at me...'

'Just leave. He's not worth fighting.'

'Don't tell me twice.'

Lorraine spun on her heels, beginning to make her way to the door.

"W-Wait!"

Lorraine glanced back. "What."

"Uh...uh..." Wyatt trails off, scratching the back of his neck. "I...I usually don't do this...but you really look like you need some help, ma'am..."

His gaze falters, seemingly leering down at Lorraine's track marks. She felt suddenly as if they bulged off her skin, pulsating like maggots on new flesh.

I...

"I...I can offer you some help. About 20 miles down south, there's the Trebennit Clinic..." he trails off.

She puts her hands over her mouth, hiding a flat expression. "Oh, dearie me, that is so sweet of you," she gushes. Wyatt breathes a sigh of relief.

"Let me point it out for you on the map and you can head out in the mornin'."

He whirls back around, raising a sausagey figure to that stupid little star once more.

"You go from here, down this road for 15 miles, then you take this road right 'ere..."

"Mm, dearie me...I can't quite see it too well..." Lorraine sighs. "Can I possibly come back there and take a closer look?"

Wyatt glances back, concern on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, sugar, but I can't let customers come back behind the cou-"

"I just forgot my readers," Lorraine waves off. "Besides, what can lil' ole me do to a strong man like you?"

He chortles, putting his hands on his hips, further protruding his paunch. "Well, only for a few seconds."

Lorraine scuttles over, lifting the wooden barrier as she stands behind  Wyatt. He points back up at the star, letting Lorraine fully smell his B.O.

I...I don't...

"You see, now?" he asks, glancing over at Lorraine.

"Mm, thank you," Lorraine nods, still looking at the map. Down south, there seemed to be nothing but a few towns. Meanwhile, one could see that more roads diverged towards the North, so that's probably where the nearest city is. So, if she could catch a bus-

A grimy finger is suddenly on her mouth.

Lorraine glances over, seeing Wyatt smirk as he wipes the edge of her lip.

"A pretty lil' thing like you shouldn't be marred with blood," he whispers, eyes fixated on her lips.

She seizes in place, feeling as if she can't move as he slowly takes his other hand, moving...

I don't like this bastard one bit.

'Eman!'

"WHAT?!" Lorraine screams out loud, jolting out from her frozen state.

'Look in front of you, dumbass!'

Lorraine glances down and sees Wyatt on the floor, bleeding profusely from the head and unconscious. Slowly, she glanced down at her trembling hands.

"...shit."

=

Hi! To celebrate the next arc, I decided to release the first chapter right away. Please vote, comment and add to your library if you liked this chapter! And thank you for all the support!