Freyr was having a really hard time seeing straight as they stumbled through the vast operations space. It seemed the only things that weren’t wobbling uncontrollably were memories or visions playing out all around them; they were becoming clearer by the second. The rest of the space felt like something out of a dream to her, blurred and intangible.

Freyr was vaguely aware of the team around her - they appeared to be struggling as well. Gene put a hand out for a desk to lean on, misjudged it and crashed over, knocking things onto the floor. He rolled over and looked at Freyr, and instantly she was back in the kitchen she’d seen earlier. She was on the opposite side of the table, beside the elegantly dressed woman. Across the table she recognised Connie, gesturing to a seat at the head of the table and nodding encouragingly.

“Okay.” This ‘Doctor Shearing’ sighed, moving to sit down. Gene followed her, gun balanced on his pinkie finger. Connie smiled down on the doctor when she got comfortable, then her smile faded. She nodded at Gene, and he moved forward. Quickly, they trapped Dr Shearing’s feet against the thin wooden legs of the chair and grabbed a wrist each. She shouted, confused.

“Get off! What is this?!”

Connie looked over at Gene above the struggling woman. “Ready?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Close.” Freyr heard, as the man prised open Dr Shearing’s hand and placed the gun in her palm, pointed straight up. “Set?” Connie asked. 

“HEY, GET OFF ME!!” 

Gene used her finger to activate the weapon. “Set!” He began bending her forearm down until the shivering gun pointed at her head. “Go!”

Freyr wanted to look away but couldn’t. Her field of view was glued to his. She tried to speak, to yell out, but couldn’t. All she could manage was a confused burble in the real world. Eventually, she fell to her knees, then face planted the ground and sank into blackness.