Die Happy, Verse II



Scene Title Die Happy, Verse II
Synopsis Is this dystopia?
Date January 4, 2019

Bay Ridge, Robyn and Dirk's Apartment

This has been a long time coming.

Robyn Quinn stares at a stack of papers in front of her, eyes narrow as she stares at fine print. This was something she'd been considering for some time. Since the summer, really. But… as of late, something - she couldn't place her finger on what, had been pushing her.

As much as she claimed she hadn't wanted to reconnect with her past, to revisit music, as of late she couldn't resist the siren's song that echoed in the back of her mind. She wasn't sure what the source of her drive lately was. Was it the feeling that had been building ever since that night after Elaine's birthday?

Or was it something else?

She gnashes her teeth a bit, before turning her attention to the papers in front of her.Papers to attempt to acquire one of the many derelict buildings within Bay Ridge. She moves from page to page, making sure everything is in order. Once upon a time, this was something she'd considered a long term goal.

Before everything well to hell and back.

A building in Bay Ridge that she had once been passingly familiar with. It had been a recording studio at one point. And that was what it would be again if she had her way. With Bay Ridge being the parts of Bew York with the most stable infrastructure, it made sense for this venture to be based here.

She'd once worried how she would balance this against her SESA work. Now, she didn't care. She would find a way to make it work, even if it meant hiring someone to manage the recording studio in her stead when she was busy with work. New York needed music, and as great as Cat's Cradle is, it didn't quite fill the void left in the time since the war. While RObyn still didn't feel the desire to dive into recording herself, maybe this would be a way she could contrinute herself.

Just like how she did in her Studio K days, really.

Reaching the last page of the documents, she sighs as she puts a pen t paper, ready to-


This was a mistake.

The words sit on Robyn Quinn's tongue as she stares down at her hands. They never make it further; she's supposed to be the leader here, and well, morale was already low enough. What good would it be to emphasis what she thinks they all already know.

She curls her fingers in as they shake, and then back out. They twitch just the slightest bit, but she feels nothing. None of the tingling warmth she normally feels when doing this motion. Nothing. She knew this was how it would be, but here and now.. It doesn't feel right. Her shoulder sag from the metaphorical weight, brow furrowing as she looks over to Lance and Squeaks.

Now isn't the time, she tells herself. There will be plenty later.

“1984. It’s just like 1984.”

As the bus begins to abruptly slow down, Quinn's eyes flick over to Cassandra for her comment. Because that's helping. They knew what this was going to be like from the getgo, just like her own held back comment there's no point in drawing emphasis on it. A hydraulic house draws her attention back up to the front of the bus, and she can't help but suck in a breath in anticipation.

As she stares out the window, the tenseness grows palpable, made even more manifest as one of the armed men from outside steps into the bus. “Everyone out!” the officer commands, sending a wave of panic down Quinn's spine. She looks over to Lance, to Squeaks in tow. Slowly she rises up to her voice. "Hope y'didn't expect ribbons an' candy, folks," she mutters to them on the heels of whatever Lance just said, moving out into the aisle. Resigning herself to going along with this for now, she waits for Cassandra to join them and their next orders to come.

“Not even a welcoming delegation or a banner. This welcoming committee needs work.” Cassandra's flat delivery of her comment puts Quinn ill at ease, and her followup doesn't help much. “Try and stay together.” A beat. “Try.”

No shit, is another utterance that sits just on the tip of Quinn's tongue but doesn't quite make it off. The roll of her eyes communicates the thought well enough. Back off, kid. You're gonna get us shot.

The yells and shrieks that suddenly sound off draw her attention as much as she'll allow, looking around worriedly. That feeling only heightens as she sees some of the other passengers being pulled away and towards the wall.

Something is very wrong.

It almost keeps her from noticing the officer as he makes his way down the line of them. She lowers her gaze to the ground, trying her best to keep a low profile as the man makes his way down the line.


Her heart leaps up into her throat as two of the men step forward to her. Oh fuck, echoes in the back of her mind as she looks up, as they step forward - she's unsurprised that she would be singled out. She digs her heels in just the slightest amount.

"W-whoa-" is stammered out in a mix of faux-confusion and genuine panic, not wanting to argue but feeling one of her hands begin to flight as a fight or flight impulse starts to build in her. "I- look, this ain't m'stop, I-I think y'might have the wrong person. Just want some peace an' quiet an' a guitar m-m'bbe…"

They don't listen, they pull her out of the line and she feels her breathing begin to quicked, looking over to the wall where the others are being forced, and very quickly she knows what this is. She'd be an idiot not to. She trembles, her feet trying to find more resistance but failing.

Her nervous laugh is drowned out by other shouting, her stomach turning as she feels immediately nauseas. "L-look guys, I don't- know what y'thnk, b-bu-"

Neither of them response as she's pushed up to the wall with the others that have been pulled out of the bus. Eyes wide, she stands facing it for a moment.

Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no

“There is no Resistance!” The Captain's shout turns her back around, the floodlights blinding her in a way she isn't accustomed to. The world seems to shrink around her, unable to breathe as she scans the crowd.

Come on, guys!

“The Resistance was defeated! The Resistance is dead!” Tears slide down her cheeks as she finds her friends, her charges. The man motions towards the centurion, and it turns.

Oh god, this can't be it.

With emotionless, fluid movement, it raises the bullpup rifle it holds, pointing it towards her and the others on the wall.

Magnes, come on, you always show up at times likes this, you said you'd-


A momentary burst of pain…

…and everything goes black.

There's a sudden gasp for air as Robyn stumbles back, as if carrying the momentum of the bullets she had seen hurtling towards her. Back into her desk chair, tumbling backwards as both it and her go crashing to the ground. A tangled mess of person and chair, the eye not hidden by her eyepatch is wide, and just like she had felt moments before, tears stream down her cheek.

A coughing fit ensues as she rolls over and rises up to her knees, shaking as she stares ahead. What she had seen of herself, being interrogated in- god knows what, had been unsettling if not intriguing. But the lump in her throat tells her just how terrifying this vision had been. What she had seen in her first one, that one had been- a shitshow, but she didn't know the outcome.

Here, she did. And it was harrowing.

Her hand moves over herself, trying to find something to focus on, something to calm herself. So much of that dream was familiar in ways she didn't expect. The blown out ruins outside the windows. The robots. The general air of dissent and oppression.

It reminded her of Adel's future.

But that… couldn't be? She'd certainly lived longer than that in the world Adel had come from. Long enough to take in Jolene and help raise Adel. So then, what…?

She squeezes her eye shut, and lets out a shuddering breath as she takes hold of the chair and pulls herself back up to her feet.

"Fuckin' assholes," she mutters out, a bit of her natural accent slipping into the words in the wake of hearing it so clearly. She trembles, pulling the chair up right, wheeling it back ot her desk. With a deep breath, she sits, and turns back to her papers.

Anything to distract her from the could have beens.

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