(normally I'd do some stuff here about what happened on your previous world and then intertwine it with foreshadowing, but I don't know much about your previous world... so yay foreshadowing!)

As you take part in the only true rest versers get, images flash through your mind.  Hundreds upon thousands of woman parted with their chilren, vast and violent riots, and cruel dicators of old.  No sooner did the image of Nero come to your mind than he was flushed out.

As far as you can tell, you're in an alleyway of some sort.  The cold, hard ground is unrelenting and ungiving; it's fairly obvious it wasn't designed for pedestrians despite its location.  The buildings stretch up and up, obviously built to take up as much floor space as possible.  The noises of a few vehicles can be heard, but you can't see any out on the road at the end (or start, if you want to look at it as such) of the alleway.  The alleyway itself is devoid of life.

   I stand up, reeling from the events that had just transpired.  "sam?" I query, tentatively, knowing in my heart that Sam was gone.  A part of me is glad to be relieved of my burden, but another part is saddened because I couldn't do more.  Then I realize that I am even further from my home and my husband is probably worried about me and wanting his supper.  I must find a way to return to my old life.  But then a little voice in the back of my head asks, why?  What was so special about that old life anyway?  Wake up, fix breakfast, clean house, fix lunch, clean kitchen, fix supper.  What kind of life was that anyway?
   I sigh, then look about me.  I check to see that my purse is still with me, although there was barely $200 left of my grocery money when I set out to go shopping that morning.  And that money was useless in Sam's world.  I wonder what world I'm in now.
   I look down the alley, towards the roadway, then turn my steps towards it.

You walk towards the end of the alleway and, surprisingly for how big the city appears to be, there isn't a car in sight.  Instead, the road has rails going down the two lanes and there are walkways that go up and over the road at fairly consistant intervals (and especially around intersections, of which there seems to be a random mess of rails).

All of a sudden, a noise like an incredibly powerful engine comes from the right.  Within two seconds, it reaches you and then zooms past.  The brief glimpse of it that you saw, you realize that it was a train of some sort, but it was easily going several hundred kilometres per hour.

There are a few pedestrians walking about, but not many and all of them are entirely engrossed in what they're doing: enough so that none you can see even acknowledge your presence.  Their dress is similar enough to earth's, enough so that it's hard to really pick at any differences.

   Somewhat bewildered and befuddled,  I step up to one of the lady pedestrians and try to get her attention.  "excuse me, can you tell me where I am?  I've taken a wrong turn and am kinda lost."

The lady looks up from her papers and looks you in the eyes strangely.  "What?"  She asks, slightly bewildered.  "You're in the law district, sub-section 3.  If you're really that lost, you should head to the courts in sub-section 1."  She points off down the street.  Looking far down, you can catch a glimpse of a statue, but nothing more than that besides dozens more of the tall buildings.

"They should be able to figure out where you belong."

   I look at her befuddled, then look in the direction she pointed, even more confused.  Law district?  court district?   Then I stammer a thanks as I head in the direction she pointed.

The woman barely seems to recognize you acknowleding your help and you stumble off towards the courts.

After a couple minutes of walking, you come to a golden statue of a man.  Easily ten feet high, his face apppears kind yet stern and his overall demeanor is one of great power.  As you near it, you spot an inscription on the bottom which reads "President G. L. Vik" and nothing else.

There are a couple people wandering around here, but not many.  Behind the statue you can see a large building which seems different from the others... grander you could say.  From what you can see here, you can see some sort of reception desk behind the large glass doors.  You assume it's the courts, but you can't be sure as there's no signs saying it is or isn't.  As you stand there, another train wizzes by.  This one was nigh-silent and sleeker, obviously an upgraded version of the other one.

  I decide to approach the reception desk, perhaps there will be somebody there that could help me figure out where I am.   I do seem to be way out of my element here, in some sort of strange, futuristic city.  Curiouser and curiouser.

OoC: Well, if you still want to play...

IC: As you walk into the building, the first thing you notice is how expensive everything looks here.  Actually, reflecting on it, you realize that everything in this city seems incredibly expensive.  The floor alone is marble and, while scuffed from use, still shines with brilliance.

The reception desk is solid oak and masterfully carved.  The receptionist is a slightly plump 30-ish woman who is sitting with a strange device hooked up to her wrist.  "Hi, how can I help you?"  She asks you pleasingly.  While she looks happy enough, her tone of voice is slightly condescending.

  "pardon me, but I am traveling and have somehow lost  my way.  can you tell me what city this is?"  I stammer, feeling very much out of my element.  I am but a poor, humble housewife after all, I think to myself.  I have dreamed of marble palaces, but to actually step inside one..., I continue to muse, trying to refrain myself from  gawking.

"City?"  The woman asks you, looking at you strangely.  "Oh!  You must mean Sector!  Why, this is Sector 9.  You've been assigned here by the government; you have to of been.  You've forgotten?  Quite odd, quite odd," the woman continues mumbling something unintelligible as she taps twice on her desk.  You stand there, slightly amazed, as a screen appears and seems to float in mid-air.  Grabbing a pen (or what appears to be one), the woman begins tapping on the invisible screen.  Strangely enough, it makes sound, and it almost seems like the screen actually has weight.

"Do you remember your citizen number?  Or, if you lack that, you name at the very least?"

   I stammer, "I was told my name was Gabby, Gabby Girdy I think.  I don't seem to have much memory, it just feels as if I've dropped from the sky and found myself here."  Which isn't too far from the truth, I think to myself with a smile.  I need to get my act together, I chide myself, and try to act more like I know what I'm doing.  I must shed my old self and embrace my new woman, I continue to rebuke myself.   A new feeling is beginning to dawn, way down deep, below the repressed housewife role I have always assumed.  Somewhere down deep there is a wild woman waiting to be let free.  I shudder as I think of what I might be capable of.
  Then I focus my mind back to the task at hand, trying to determine where I was and what might be expected of me here.

"Girdy?"  The woman asks, stammering.  "You have a last name?  But why do you have a first name as well?  Oh... oh this isn't right."  She begins rubbing her right temple with one hand, tapping things into her computer.  "We have several Girdy's on record, but none of their pictures match yours.  Under Gabby... there are no known Gabby's older than 13 currently residing in this Sector.  Are you sure your name is correct?"

The woman is clearly flabergasted, and sweat is beginning to form on her brow.

 I am starting to get as flustered as the secretary.  "maybe my name is like a code name or something?  maybe I have a real name that I've forgotten.  can your computer scan my face and link to my records that way?  maybe if I knew who I was I'd remember where I'm supposed to  be."
   And,  I think to myself, if this lady can't help me, I'll just leave and wander the streets, seeing what I can see.  Perhaps a situation will arise that I can act upon, like a person who needs me to save them, or maybe somebody will come up to me and recognize me and explain to me what I'm to do.  That timid little housewife inside of me is never capable of independent thought or action, always relying on others to push her along.  But the fiesty little spitfire that is itching to get out is slowly pushing away that timid little housewife, dying to get her hands on something thrilling and exciting.  The fiesty little spitfire is itching to reach across and strangle the secretary, demanding to know who she is and what this place is and what her purpose here is to be.  I shiver at the turmoil inside me, while I wait to see if the secretary can scan my face and determine who I'm supposed to be in this place and why I'm here.

The woman shook her head slowly.  "Well... do you know if you work in the government sector or the civilian sector?  That could help us determine if you use a first name or a last name.  As for scanning your face in, well, we recently had some... problems... with our system and that and several other functions are temporarily unavailable for use."

"However, if you wish, we could-" at that specific moment, the sound of an explosion tore through the street outside.  Screaming, the woman flung herself to the ground.  A split second later, her body convulsed as though a great electric current was sent through it and then she stopped and lay still.

Looking outside, you can see that one of those trains has plowed sideways across the roadway and was now lying there on fire.

   My wild fiesty side takes over my timid housewife self and jumps into action.  Slinging my purse strap over my head, so that it's against my body, out of my way, I dash outside to see if anybody needs to be rescued.

As you rush outside, you see several other people lying on the ground like the secretary in the building you just exited from.  The train, on fire and doubtlessly carrying passengers from the look of it, is simply lying there with no one coming to its aid.  Off in the distance, you here the roar of an engine similar to one from Earth.

   My timid housewife side causes my feet to halt.  In my mind I argue with the fiesty spitfire, "what do you think you are doing???? we are gonna get ourselves killed!!!  we'll singe our hair!!!"
   The spitfire retorts, "are you so vain?  there are people dying in there."
   The housewife sighs, "I know, I want to help them too, but I"m scared.  I've already fallen off a bridge once you know."
    The spitfire says, "see, you survived that, if we get burned up, we'll survive that too and we'll be helping some other people in the process.  surely you want a few stars in your crown?"
   The housewife sighs, "yes, you are right, it is our duty."
  The spitfire yells in victory and plunges into the burning train car, intent on rescuing as many people as possible.

You dive into the train car, smoke filling your lungs in a matter of seconds.  The lights inside the train are still on, however, and by keeping low you're able to avoid the worst of the smoke.  Dozens of people are lying on the floor in various states of injury and some are obviously dead.  Finding a woman who still seems like she's breathing, you quickly drag her out and deposit her on the sidewalk.

The engine noise is getting louder and the flames are quickly spreading.  You guess that you can head back in once, maybe two times at the most, before the flames have the entire train under the grasp.

Heading back in, you grab two children and pull them out.  You make another trip, this time pulling out a man in a business suit.  The smoke is much thicker than before, and you have to pause to catch your breath.  The flames have almost made it to the front of the train now.  If you head in again, you could possibly save another person, but more likely than not you'll end up getting hurt yourself.

   My timid housewife side butts, "ok, I think we've earned a few stars, if we continue we'll be in jeopardy ourself."
   "wimp," replies my  spitfire side, "we can easily save a few more lives, our life in unimportant compared to those."
    Before my timid side can retort, the spitfire has charged back in, intent on saving as many lives as possible before the train explodes.

You jump back into the train, foolishly attempting to save one more life.  Flames lick at your body as you dive in, singing the loose strands on your clothes.  Grabbing a woman, you begin pulling her out.  Halfway through pulling her out, the smoke forces you to your knees and your movement speed more than halves.  Still struggling to pull her out, flames have begun to spread on her clothes.

OoC: Not so good of a roll you had there, so I'm gonna give you a choice.

   My timid housewife side screams, "leave her, if we don't, we'll both die!!!"
   Then a third voice pops into my head, "you must save her, it is your duty,"  I recognize this voice as my conscious, the one that doesn't prick, it kicks.
   The spitfire is silent as the timid housewife grits her teeth and determines to listen to her conscious.  I give one more strong pull, remembering that my upper arms were always strong enough to pull tree limbs when helping my daddy haul wood.  Forcing myself to see the poor woman as a gnarly pine limb, I pull with all my might.

You continued attempting to drag the woman out, but barely have you made any progress before flames shoot up her torso to where your hands are.  Leaping onto your own clothes, you're forced to swat the flames away and back off.  Trying desperately to grab the woman again, pieces of her flesh begin to flake off in your hands.  A moment later the flames have forced you outside, where the smell of burning flesh is now thick in the air.

The engine noise is now closer, only a couple of blocks away.  A couple of the people lying on the ground twitch silently, but then lay still.

OoC: You can't have good rolls forever. :P

    I slump to the pavement, defeated, both voices in my head silent in their remorse.  I find the quiet calming and peaceful.  I look down at my hands, wondering how badly I've burned myself.  Where will I go for medical help?  Then, curious, I wonder how this catastrophe started in the first place.  What caused the train to catch fire?  I raise my head and look about me, listening for any conversations that might give me clues as to what has just transpired here.

The air is still, the only noise that of the approaching engine.

Looking behind you, you see a car turn the corner.  It doesn't look unusual or grand, like the train.  In fact, it looks extremely old.  The car stops a few feet from you, the heavily tinted windows blocking your view of the occupants.

Both front doors open and two men step out.  Both straighten their expensive-looking black suits at almost the same time and then begin walking around.  "Nothing," one of them says.  "The rebels must've dissapeared before we got here," said the other one.  "Check the people," he continued, and both nodded at each other.

It seems as though they haven't noticed you, but will undoubtedly as they make their way around the civilians lying around.

   My timid housewife side shrieks in my head, "run, they'll capture us, torture us!!!"
   The spitfire sighs, "they ain't gonna hurt us, we ain't rebels, we were trying to help.  just chill and let's see what they do."
   The timid housewife cowers as the men approach, but the spitfire takes over and prepares my body for action.  It is  a weird sensation, feeling myself tense, like a spring ready to release.  I don't know what the spitfire has in mind, but my timid side doesn't object.
   I wait.

The men both pull a small cell-phone looking device out of their pockets and begin making their way.  At each person they hold the device up to their heads for a second before nodding and moving on.  After half a minute or so, one of them comes to you.  Pointing the device at your head, a scowl quickly forms on his face.  "This one has no chip!"  He says to the other man, who pulls out his gun and trains it on you.

"Stand, citizen, and explain yourself!"  It's fairly obvious at this point they know you're faking.  That or you're sleeping, but the relatively strong kick to your side would wake you if you were.  "Stand!"  The one with the gun repeats.

   The little spitfire lashes out.  Recalling all those karate scenes in movies such as Catwoman and Tomb Raider, I rise, and attempt a karate chop, hoping to disarm the man.  My timid housewife side watches in horror, as if viewing a very bad scene in a film, but unable to stop the motion.  It's not a pretty sight, envision Catwoman 50 pounds heavier and wearing a flaring denim skirt.

It's fairly obvious you're not Catwoman either when the man simply moves his hand to the side and grabs your other arm.  "Comply!"  He shouts at you as he pushes you to your knees.

The other man wheels in front of you and pulls out his pistol, aiming it at your face.  "Explain yourself, citi-" and just then he goes flying backwards as a bullet smashes into his face.  You feel the other man loosen his grip on you before another gunshot rings out and he falls behind you.  "Come on!"  Comes the rushed voice of a man behind you.  "Into the sewer!"  You hear a manhole cover cling back to the ground and, when you look behind you, the man's gone and the manhole cover's half-off.

     Before I can duck and cover, I feel a strange sensation, as the two sides of my personality pulls away from me.  It's as if I can see them, the feisty spitfire and the docile housewife.  I watch as they fight:
   "how dare you try such a move," screams the housewife, "what were you thinking?  they were the law, and you abide by the law."
  "oh come off it, he was gonna lock us away and throw away the key," spits the spitfire.  "I had to do something, and if you hadn't been such a pig my moves would have worked."
   The docile housewife snaps, leaps for the spitfire, they tumble, hair flying, it's an all out cat fight.
   Suddenly the docile housewife just disappears.   The spitfire wipes her hands and kicks her feet, as if she were a dog covering her scent.
   "I got rid of that baggege.  Come on, let's go see who our rescuer is,"  then she walks toward me, I feel a chilly sensation as the dominant portion of my personality takes over.  I feel revived, energized, ready for action, capable of any and everything that may be thrown my way.  My singed hands don't even hurt anymore, or at least I don't even notice.
  I scurry over to the manhole cover and proceed to go down.

OoC: Been a while, but let's get right back into it, hmm?

IC: You head to the manhole quickly, proceeding down into the sewers.  Unlike the ultra-modern above ground, down here it's worse than you thought sewers would be.  There's a tiny walkway on each side of the tunnels, with dozens of connecting tunnels every once in a while.  You have to crouch to move due to the slanting roof, and in the middle of the tunnel spanning about six feet is massive amounts of reeking sewage.  Every twenty feet or so there's a small bridge allowing you to crawl across if you so choose.

As you look off into the distance, you see the shadow of a man.  "Follow the flares!"  You hear him shout before he lights a flare and drops it onto the floor before moving on.  For someone who saved your life, he doesn't seem like he wants to be anywhere near you.  A little further on, you notice him drop another flare into a side tunnel and head down it, dissapearing from you vision.