Aberrant: Wild Card - Act I:Scene II - Fair

[Forge]

The sound of running water and a cold sensation brought Lizzie back to reality gasping for air and shivering as she hugged herself, only to suddenly realize she was laying on the floor of the girls bathroom, the sink was overflowing and had apparently soaked her as it turned the pale yellow tile into a wading pool.

As she stood up and looked in the mirror, she saw a familiar young face staring back.

[Helen Booth]

She stared at her youthful expression in the mirror for a long moment, studying the confused and disbelieving expression on her young girl's face. Then she shook her head firmly and rubbed her hands across her face. Unlikely though it was to help, she gathered up some of the water as it poured out over the sink and splashed her face with cold water to try and wake herself up from whatever kind of nightmare she was having. When that failed to accomplish anything other than making her even colder than she had been before, she carefully shut the knob off, and glanced around the bathroom. After a long moment of hesitation, she began to push open the doors to the other stalls one by one, checking them for anyone before she moved on to the bathroom door.

[Forge]

All the stalls were empty, holding nothing but toilets meant for children and locked toilet paper holders.

When she opened the bathroom door, she found it opened up into the room where the Science Fair was currently being held. Students and parents alike were mingling around, gawking at terrariums, homemade electrolysis setups, baking soda volcanoes and much more.

The judging trio were moving around, whispering to each other and making notes on their clipboards. Lizzie could see that her booth was three away from being judged, assuming that the trio hadn't already passed her and were in fact coming towards her.

[Helen Booth]

She shook her head, looking a little dazed, but she hurried over to her booth and stood there, waiting for them to approach, wondering still if she was having some sort of weird dream. But if she was dreaming, she shouldn't know that this is weird, or that she's not herself, should she?

Never a big fan of things that couldn't be cataloged or explained, Lizzie had never given much credit to the studies of dream interpretation or anything along those lines. Now some traitorous part of herself wished she had, so that she might be able to explain her situation now, at least a little. Maybe this was some sort of dying dream, and she was reliving significant events in her life.

[Wa'ne]

The judges approached her booth; the science teacher, Mr. Hoon and the Principal Ms. Jenkins were easily recognizable, the third judge was oddly out of place and not anyone she was familiar with. He was wearing a floor-length fur coat, his shock of red hair was greasy and unkempt, and he was looking over gold-rimmed glasses at her as they approached.

The hoarse-sounding voice gave Lizzie a start as he spoke, "Well, Elizabeth, you may begin."

[Helen Booth]

She tried - really. To remember her speech from back then, the one that had won her the award, the one she'd been so proud of and thought that her parents weren't going to make it to. But it had been so long, and everything was so weird, and this was a dream, damnit - she didn't have to remember some stupid science fair speech! She stopped tripping over her words and trying to remember, and the blush of a young child disappearing into the scowl of an irritated adult.

"Look, this isn't right, this is some kind of dream - I've already done this, I know it! I'm not really here, so what's going on? You weren't a judge, you're not a teacher, I don't remember you - so what are you doing here? What do you want?"

[Wa'ne]

Mr. Hoon looked shocked at Lizzie's reaction and Ms. Jenkins was outright scowling at the petulant child, "Miss MacIntyre! That is no way to speak an adult, let alone a judge! Mr. Mulligan is a guest judge from Boeing's Aerospace labs..."

"Its okay...I'm sure Elizabeth is just a little shaken up from being soaked through..." Mr. Mulligan interrupted and gestured towards Lizzie with his clipboard. "Let's give her another try..."

[Helen Booth]

Lizzie continued to scowl for a moment, then bit her lip in confusion, and nodded slightly. She could practically hear her mother's voice in her head, murmuring the kind of loopy new-age reassurances she'd grown up with, but for once they were comforting instead of irritating.

"You know dreams are there to tell you something.. they're a message from the someone out there, or maybe even from yourself, something you can't admit to in your waking moments but desperately need help with. Don't mock your dreams, Lizzie - they're created by that amazing mind of yours too."

The young girl took a deep breath and nodded, reaching into the far corners of her minds for the information about the board as best as she could remember it. She rattled off information about her topic, explaining the science project as best she could and answering any questions the teachers presented to her. Finally, when they seemed satisfied, she murmured quietly to them, her hands clasped contritely behind her back.

"Sorry.. about what I said, Mr. Mulligan. I'm not.. feeling very well, I think. Thank you for coming to guest judge for our science fair, it was really nice of you."

[Wa'ne]

"I wouldn't have dreamed that it could happen any other way, Lizzie." Mr. Mulligan said.

Mr. Hoon and Ms. Jenkins wandered to the next display after they both gave the young Elizabeth nods of approval at the young woman's apology. Lizzie could just hear the Principal saying as they walked away, "Such a bright girl, that one. But so serious..."

"Is there something you want to ask me Lizzie?" The sandpaper-voiced judge asked. He had set his clipboard down on her table and she could see that it was empty. He crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly.

[Helen Booth]

She was quietly for a moment, though she nodded slightly so he wouldn't walk away. She glanced down, eyes studying her black dress shoes she'd worn especially for that day. She remembered her mother talking her into wearing the dress - Remembered? It was just this morning, wasn't it? - saying it would help her look "more professional" for the fair than wearing boy's clothes. And indeed, it did - Lizzie's simple gray dress wasn't in the least bit frilly or girlish. She wore a simple black belt around her middle and a pair of dressy black flats. Her hair was pulled back with a gray hairband. No wonder the judges through she was so serious, and her parents called her their "little mouse". It all seemed such a long time ago, and yet it was only this Sunday her mother had taken her shopping for the dress.

She glanced back up then, and over at Mr. Mulligan's clipboard. Then she glanced up at him and shook her head.

"No sir, I'm sorry. I don't suppose there is. I just had a feeling of.. deja vu, I suppose. Like I'm somewhere I've been before, or not where I'm supposed to be. But that's silly - I'm probably just not feeling well, like I said."

Still, then empty clipboard bothered the perceptive young girl, and her eyes flickered back to it, before glancing back up at him. There was a crease of concentration between her astute young brow, the expression of someone trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together in her mind.

"Sir.. if you don't mind me asking though.. do you remember all your scores? Since you don't have anything written down on your clipboard, that is."

[Wa'ne]

"My score doesn't count...No, I'm just a flavor judge, they'll pick their favorite kid anyway." he said, gesturing at the other two judges. "I like to think that I'm here as more of a guide...to help you get to the place you are suppose to be."

[Helen Booth]

Her young brow furrowed as she concentrated, glancing down for a minute before she turned back up to him to study him. She couldn't think of anywhere else she was supposed to be - it was her mom who had forgotten about her today, not Lizzie who'd forgotten about needing to be somewhere else.

Her Mom's choir performance wasn't something special today, was it? Just a regular performance, like usual. She liked to go when she could but her Mom arranged lots of them when she was in school so it wouldn't conflict with her or Eddie's other obligations.

No, he had to be talking about something else - something having to do with that weird feeling that she was in the wrong place but couldn't quite figure out why. So she did what Lizzie did best - she asked questions. Even if they were the wrong ones, you still usually found out more than you knew before.

"So I was right? But how do you know where I'm supposed to be, then? I've never met you before. And how am I supposed to get there, if this isn't it?"

[Wa'ne]

"Well, aren't you a bit damp? That doesn't seem to be bothering you as much as one would expect it would...Also...you're a lot shorter than I remember..."

[Helen Booth]

Lizzie seemed to glance down at her outfit, and she lifted a strand of her hair to look at it, as if noticing for the first time since walking out of the bathroom that she was all wet. The confusion on her face deepened, and she looked up at him again, part of her skirt still clenched in her fist.

"You're right. I kind of remember.. being taller, I mean. And I'm wet because of the water in the bathroom.. at least I think I am. But..."

She glanced down at the arm holding her dress, and realized for the first time that it hurt, like she'd slammed it into something or maybe landed on it wrong. She let go suddenly, pulling it up and cradling it with the opposite hand.

"...my arm hurts. I think I did something to it.. but I can't remember what."

[Wa'ne]

"Well...its like this...in a way...you could say that you blew up."

When Elizabeth looked down at herself again, she was once again her older self, and the realization of her injury had made them reappear again, along with her swollen ankle.

[Helen Booth]

As the realization struck, so did the pain - not dull, unremembered pain this time but sharp, throbbing pain, and she gasped in surprise and grabbed on to the table. She looked around again, seeing the gymnasium and realizing for the first time how out of place she was. Lizzie liked puzzles, and riddles - those were solved with logic. But this wasn't a puzzle, or a riddle, or even a mystery - it was a bad joke, an impossibility, something that shouldn't be happening.

"No - no, I didn't blow up, I was in an accident. On a ship. I remember now - so who are you? What am I doing here? Where is everyone else I was with?!"

Her fear drove her anger, Eddie might have their mother's patience but Lizzie had their father's temper. She was either angry with herself for dreaming, at her mind for deluding her even as she acknowledged that this might be some sort of strange waking dream, or that she might have a concussion too - or she was angry at this man, and at the man back at the concert, and everything or everyone she'd encountered between then and now that was weird and wrong and unexplainable.

She was afraid, and she was mad, and she wanted some answers, damnit. Now.

[Wa'ne]

"You can call me Mulligan. You are here to choose your path." Mulligan answered, not responding to her raised emotions. In fact, he seemed all the more calm now that he could elevate himself above such petty responses.

He pulled away a chair from a neighboring booth, slid it over and sat down, his weight easily being held by the plastic meant for a child. His shiny black dress shoes poked out from beneath the fur coat, but it was still anyone's guess to the rest of his attire.

[Helen Booth]

She scowled at that, but kept her temper - at least she was finally getting some answers out of the crazy old man. Answers were pieces of the puzzle - and whatever was going on here, there had to be a puzzle, there always was. Something to figure out, some problem to be solved. She was quiet for a second, and then grabbed one of the similar chairs and sat down on it too. It was as obviously undersized for her as it was for him, but she was a petite woman and the weight wasn't any real strain. At least it took the weight off her ankle.

"Choose my path regarding what? And what are my choices, if I have to make one?"

[Wa'ne]

"Your choice...to save the world." he shrugged, as if to say it was a simple, uncomplicated choice.

[Helen Booth]

"Save the world?"

She stared at the crazy old man for a moment, and the sheer absurdity of his statement struck her. For a moment, she was speechless - and then, for lack of inspiration regarding how to possibly address such a ridiculous comment - sarcasm briefly took over.

"Sure - I've gotta save the cheerleader, right?"

[Wa'ne]

Mulligan managed to roll his eyes at the Heavens before he answered her. "Ironically enough...that can be arranged if you would like to save one...I don't think you would like it though...or maybe you would..." he smirked.

[Helen Booth]

She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, looking frustrated.

"It was a joke. Look, I'm not saying I wouldn't be up for doing everything I could to save the world, if it were up to me for some reason. But I'm not sure you've got the right person, even if you are serious about all this. I'm a CSI - and not even that, yet. A student CSI. I'm the girl who figures out who the bad people are after they've already done the bad stuff. I'm a scientist. How am I gonna save the world? I'm not even the type that discovers cures for cancer or anything. At best, I can help make it a better place by getting a few scumbags off the street. And that's okay with me. It's more of a difference than most people make."

Something about the crazy old man - despite his weird fur, or his huge spectacles, or his crazy eyes - made her feel like she should take him seriously. Maybe it was the intensity of his gaze, or the apparent seriousness of the conversation to him. She just couldn't bring herself to blow him off - even if she'd normally dismiss him as a lunatic.

[Wa'ne]

Mulligan listened to her ramble on attentively enough, and when she finished, he sat up and put his hands on his knees as though he was preparing to stand up, "So its a yes, then?"

[Helen Booth]

Her mouth opened and closed slightly, and when she spoke it was with a bit of a stutter, as if she wasn't quite sure how to respond to the old coot.

"If I can - I mean, I'll do everything in my power - I just..."

She was quiet for a moment, taking in his arched eyebrow and pregnant silence.

"Yes. Okay? Yes. Whatever I can do."

[Wa'ne]

Mulligan smirked again. By the way his face crumpled up, it showed that it was probably a rare occurrence. "You remember you said that...when the time comes." Mulligan responded, his face going sober once again.

He stood up and looked past Lizzie for a second, "You have visitors..."

When she turned around to follow Mulligan's gaze, she didn't see anyone, though her eyes seemed to get fuzzy for a second, and then they were fine again. Lizzie turned back and Mulligan was gone, along with everyone else. The gym was empty.

[Helen Booth]

She turned around a couple times then, as if that would magically make the people appear and the world make sense again.

"Mr. Mulligan? Mr. Mulligan!"

She glanced at the location he'd book looking, but saw nothing in particular of any interest. Then she hurried over to the doors, jerking them open but seeing nothing except an empty playground. She clapped her hands over her ears, willing herself to wake up from this craziness.

"C'mon.. wake up, wake up, wake up! This is nuts!!"

[Forge]

Hurrying to the doors brought nothing but pain to her ankle, which should have been more than enough to let her know it wasn't a dream. Her willful desires did nothing to change the scenery.

A small breeze blew across the grounds, sending an otherwise idle swing in motion and causing the merry-go-round to move just enough to squeak its metallic call.

[Helen Booth]

Lizzie could feel the small surge of panic welling up within her, but she refused to give in to it. She hobbled her way back into the gym, and upstairs to the main floor of the school. As she wandered the halls she saw no one - not student, nor teacher, nor faculty. She limped up to the secretary's desk, and picked up the phone. She held it to her ear, but could hear no dial tone. She clicked the button to hang up the phone, jiggling it a few times to see if she could get reception, but.. there was nothing.

The quiver of panic grew stronger, and she hobbled painfully down to where her class should be. Unsurprisingly, there was no one there. As she wandered the halls she called out, but no one answered. She made her way to the nurse's office and found a set of crutches she could use. Lizzie's parents had purchased a house only a couple blocks away from school, so that their kids could walk instead of having to take the bus. And suddenly, Lizzie had a deep and desperate need to be home, to see her parents and Eddie, even though she knew they probably wouldn't be there. She had to try - she didn't know what else to do.

So she hobbled - as fast as she could on the crutches, out the large double doors next to the secretary's office. She made her way down a sidewalk devoid of people, and across a street devoid of cars. She hobbled the whole way home, fear twisting her gut into knots and making her feel a bit nauseous. Finally, she made it to her house, and hobbled her way up the front steps. She jiggled the door handle and found it locked, but she didn't have her keys on her. She called out to her parents, to Eddie, to anyone that would listen. She pounded on the door, but no one answered. So she hobbled over to the garden, picked up a rock, limped back up to the door, propped herself up on one crutch.. and then she hit the glass in the door, shattering it into pieces. Then she reached in, unlocked the door, and made her way into the house.

"Mom? Dad?! Eddie!! C'mon, somebody answer me!!"

She limped through the living room, and glanced in the kitchen. She made her way down the hall towards the bedrooms, and with her good foot she nudged open her parent's bedroom first, then her brother's bedroom a bit more forcibly. Finally she made it to her parent's master bathroom. Still.. there was no one. No one except the face staring back at her in the mirror - the face she was supposed to have this time, not the face of a young girl. But she was still trapped in a young woman's memory, her house was exactly the way it had been as a middle-school student. Even the mirror in front of her was the mirror from before her parents had redecorated the bathroom - an old, ugly mirror from the 1960's that her mother had always hated and had been so happy to get rid of.

She felt the nausea clamoring in her belly, the fear that had previously been twisting her gut into knots was now causing her to shake with frustration and terror. Suddenly, angrily, she picked up the crutch, shifting her weight onto the other one, and she smashed it angrily into the mirror, causing it to spiderweb. Her reflection fragmented as she struck it - once, twice, and then finally hard enough to shatter it into pieces, eliminating the offensive image as the glass fell across the counter and into the sink. She hobbled the couple steps backwards until she felt herself make contact with the wall. Then she slid down it, dropping the crutches and pulling her knees up to her chest, and began to sob.

[Ira Sagebrush]

"How now brown cow...there's no need to cry. You know that breaking a mirror, even if its not really there, is still bad luck." Deuce said, laying a calming hand on Lizzie's shoulder as he seemed to appear from nowhere.

He had his normal grin and his ever-present suit, which seemed tailored just an inch or two too short and showed off his socks.

[Helen Booth]

She jumped slightly at his touch, and started to shift as if to stand. But the pain from putting pressure on her ankle caused her to cry out softly, and she slumped back down against the ground, lifting her hand to wipe the tears off of her cheeks out of her eyes. Then she glanced back up at him and gazed at him for a moment, too worn out to even be surprised at his appearance. She felt tired all over, exhausted and numb, and her voice was calm (if a little shaky) when she spoke, as if she had cried all her anger away.

"I don't believe in bad luck." She sniffed slightly, then reached up and plucked the hand towel from the towel rack and used it to wipe her nose in an attempt to look dignified. "Then again I don't believe in weird alternate universes, devoid of people or rationality, either. Except you. And the orange fur guy."

She sniffed again, though more in an "I'm not going to cry anymore" type of attitude this time, and glanced up at him.

"Tell me what's going on. I can handle it the truth, I just can't handle not knowing." She paused briefly, then continued, her voice sounding stoic. "Am I dead?"

[Ira Sagebrush]

Deuce's jovial grin left and was replaced with a slightly more cautious looking smile, which only made him look devious. "All the voodoo stuff is Mully's job, I'm here to console the pretty lady...but between you and me..." Deuce said, dropping his voice to a whisper and making a show of glancing around, "...You're this close." He had his index finger and thumb pinched together as he held them up.

His grin returned as he knelt down next to her, "You're gonna have a hard time saving the world with all those bumps and bruises. Here, let me take care of that."

Deuce laid his hand on Lizzie's leg, and it was easier this time to see when his pupils shifted shape. It wasn't quite a 'club' symbol, as in Hoyle, but it was the only thing her mind could come up with. Then, the pain was gone. Even the damage to her clothing from her injuries were gone, like it had never happened.

The frazzy old man however, didn't seem like he was in any hurry to remove his hand from her leg.

Click to reveal..

You can still remember being injured, but its fuzzy. In a way like trying to remember a dream. You know it happened, but your brain says it didn't.

[Helen Booth]

Lizzie watched him as he healed her injuries, staring for a moment at the changes to her clothing and looking as if she were struggling to remember something, the way you would waking up from a dream that you didn't want to forget. She seemed to distracted to notice Deuce's slight lecherousness, and after a moment she braced herself against the counter and stood up, and picked up one of the larger pieces of the broken mirror. She glanced at her reflection in it, then she turned back to look at Deuce.

"Thank you."

He could see her desire to argue with him, to renounce this whole situation as illogical, to argue like she had with Mulligan that she wasn't anyone who would be able to save the world even if this is all real and not some crazy dream. But she forced those words away, swallowed them like a bitter medicine as she sat the broken glass back down on the bathroom counter.

"So now what? Please.. tell me what I have to do. I don't understand any of this.. it seems crazy. But I know.. I know I don't want to die."

[Ira Sagebrush]

"I can't tell you what to do anymore than Mully could. We know you don't want to die, that's sort of a given...I just came along so you wouldn't have to hike on that ankle. That would make the next part difficult..."

Lizzie did what many of us do, frequently, throughout the day reflexively, and without thought, and he was gone.

She blinked.

[Helen Booth]

Lizzie looked around, but sighed with frustration at the strange man's disappearance, this time certain she wouldn't be able to find him.

For several long minutes, she just stared at her own reflection in the shattered mirror pieces laying on the bathroom counter. It was like being in some kind of weird, horrifying carnival fun house where you couldn't hear anything and nothing was as it should be. She stared at that reflection for a long time, trying to apply logic to an illogical situation.

Finally, she realized that she needed to get out of the house. It felt horrific, being in some sort of fragment of her past. Out of habit, she cleaned up the mirror shards and deposited them into the trash can - to do otherwise seemed wrong somehow, even if she didn't believe this was truly her childhood home but only some sort of.. illusion. Then she quietly left the house, closing the doors on her way out that she had opened, and cleaning up the glass in the front hall from where she'd broken the window. Then, without any other real options, Lizzie decided to do what she always did when she needed to think - she took a walk. She stepped out onto the sidewalk, glanced in both directions, then turned and started walking, with no real particular destination in mind. She didn't know what else to do.

[Forge]

Once she stopped analyzing, her mind was able to do what was needed. She walked down familiar streets wandering the sidewalks of suburbia like a roving postman as soon she stood before the entrance to an unfamiliar park. It had a wrought iron arch over the entrance denoting its City status which connected to a fence of similar nature that was studded every ten feet with a stone pillar.

According to the metal, the name of the park was 'Crossroads'. The path into the park was just wide enough for two people if they got cozy and was built from yellow-colored pavers. Large maples, birches, and alders clung to their leaves overhead, the branches swaying easily in a light breeze not felt on the ground. Where one would expect to hear the songs of birds fluttering about, still, Lizzie's only companion was silence.

It was difficult to see far down the trail as the foliage became dense and quickly became lost to a sharp curve.

[Helen Booth]

She didn't remember this park, but then again that only piqued her curiosity more. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and her walk became a bit slower and more cautious as she crossed the entrance to the park. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the stone pillar that supported the arch. She studied the entrance for a long moment, her hesitant nature almost getting the better of her.

But then she clenched her jaw and moved forward, her feet treading surely on the yellow-stoned path. Her lips twitched briefly in amusement as she was reminded of Dorothy, and for a moment she could almost hear the voices of little munchkins chanting "Follow the yellow brick road!". But she put her serious face back on, and followed the path to the curve, pushing aside the foliage as it became dense enough to brush at her hair and arms.

[Forge]

Soon the path was all but invisible as she pushed on through dense underbrush and low-hanging branches that sought to grab or catch her clothing at every step. Only the occasional dingy mustard-colored brick managed to peek its way out from under the layer of rotting leaves and loose soil, and those were usually dislodged, standing on end or stacked up.

Just when she thought it wasn't going to be possible to take another step, the bushes parted as she plowed through into empty air onto a rocky riverbed. The sudden roar of water assaulted her ears as well as a chaotic scene before her.

Continued in Scene IV - Forest