She hit ground hard, staying on her feet. Looking around, she saw what looked to be a city of dazzling light. No buildings were evident, however no other word could adequately describe what looked to be a living, breathing habitat that housed countless denizens. No 'person' was the same, as they traveled along by any mean imaginable: walking, sliding, crawling, all depending on its shape. One looked like a dog, and would every once in awhile growl after something or another, chasing it off. Darkness came and swallowed the dog, and something it had been growling at walked on. A most dangerous place.
In the middle of the 'city' was a hub that the denizens would approach and touch. Sometimes they disappeared, sometimes they just turned after a few moments and walked in another direction. She approached, tapping into the hub. It was an information center, giving off statistics, patrol data, everything imaginable. Some of it was encrypted, some was hidden, and some was publicly available. She was in Freeport 6's information network. She was identified as an Outcast program. Feeling a tad exposed amongst all the 'hostile' programs that didn't attack only because she was in a Freeport, she... shrouded... herself in the Zoner identifications, changing how the other programs saw her. Amazed that she could do this, she moved on.
Kusari were fond of Dragons. The small, snaky, bearded kind. So, today, aNne wore the hide and the wings of a Bretonian dragon. Her crest was a monster, huge and lithe, impossible, wreathed in fire and belching flames, snorting fumes. Its flanks were encrusted in bejeweled gold and it sat atop a pile of riches in an ancient fortress, snatching eagles out of the sky with a forked tongue. It was an image on her palms, and carved into the rings she wore, warnings coded into the flames that even here, even in a freeport, she would shred and gnaw and spit out the shanks of any kusari construct that came near. This wasn't at all against the rules of the freeport, which threatened her only if she actually carried out her threats. aNne wasn't at all afraid of death.
Overwhelmed like a farmhand on first sight of a city, she didn't notice the cord sneak up on her, ensnare her, and rocket her off. Only when it was too late did she notice anything. Faster than even before, she flew to... to... a ship. Templar. Bretonian Very Heavy Fighter. Something told her that it was hers. She rightfully - it sure felt right - took over the ship, became the ship, and a soft voice said, "Welcome home, Carina."
Feeling the onset of deja vu, Carina - as she had been called by the ship - felt around. She was the entirety of the ship, she controlled it simply by thinking, and it responded as if it were her body. Gone was the woman, she had dispersed into the ship, and with the dispersion came control. Something wasn't right, though. She poured through the databanks, seeking information on her past, if there had been one, and found a file: Zacarias Poncho. The flood gate opened, and out poured the repressed memory of grief and anguish.
The dispersion reversed, as bits and pieces came back together to form the woman again. She was crying, or at least what would be called crying. She was shrinking, as well. Power waning, she didn't care. Her visible age was reversing, as she rocketed back through what would be the thirties and twenties to a human, through the teens and into childhood. Some force of will stopped her from winking out of existence as she went backwards to a time where she had not existed. She sat there, crying, and didn't notice when something approached.
aNne was quite taken with orchestrating the representations around her. Many people liked their traditional images, chubby men in suits, top hats and parasols spread all around, with the occasional sword, and possibly a swirling kimono. The outfits were fine, for the most part. Swap a parasol's frills for a ring of mourning glory, and toss a lush moss out across the floor. Just for effect, of course, sprout a spring garden from beneath her shoes, and wilt and scald and wither and burn whatsoever her gloves might draw across. There was a tower, in the west, gleaming in absent sunlit glare, and a few other individuals gleaming like suns, all showing some extreme of power, influence, skill or money. As aNne walked the concourse, bringing her own particular cheer, one went out like a light in the dark. Quietly, extinguished.
Anne. anne, aNne, anNe, annE, ANne, aNNe, anNE, AnnE....
A light had gone out. Anne watched all lights, followed all threads. She was everywhere, and everyone. Anne was many. Anne watched a light go out. Simply disintegrate into flickers and dark. Anne was a light, and if a light went out, that created a vacuum. Anne Expanded Into Vacuum. Also, a light went out, which indicated, a light was put out. Anne was a light, ergo...
Well.
Anne raced across the concourse, toppling an old simulacrum, top hat and cane whirling. Footprints leaving burning tracks, and all systems under attack. Kusari dragons died. Anne flanked herself, two in front and two behind, she was covering all the exits and holding all the doors. Nothing in, everything out. She formed a picket line, pushing everything back. A simple protocol, brutish and huge, burst through her line, tossing instances to rag-doll through the air, snapping them up in its jaws, one, two, three. four. Five. Anne turned, and it writhed, snapped back, and fell to ash. She strode to the docks, and the docks were hers.
A girl sobbed, hidden away in a nook, while Anne looked in.
Carina, a young girl with severe emotional issues, was oblivious to the world, or rather what passed as the world. It didn't matter anymore, none of it did. She had killed him, and that was that. She didn't deserve...
A discreet cough behind her made her attempt to stem the flow of tears, but when she turned they came anew, stronger than ever. Carina, glowing golden with a tear-stained dress, attempted to introduce herself, but choked up every time. Finally, through snivels, she managed to say, "I'm Carina."
"Hi, I'm Anne," the other girl said, and extended her hand with a curious expression.