[hr][center][h2][i][color=#FF9966]Siobhan O’Riley[/color][/i][/h2]
[b][color=#FF9966]Location:[/color][/b] Gateway
[b][color=#FF9966]Skills/items used:[/color][/b] None[/center][hr]

[b]PING-A-LING[/b]

Siobhan scowled at the jingle like it had offered to improperly file a resignation form. Glasses slid down her nose in tandem with the lower jaw that couldn’t [i]quite[/i] reach her desk in spite of its determination.

[color=#FF9966]“Oh, fer God’s sake-”[/color]

[b]DOCUMENTATION PROJECT #1215[/b] and in closed brackets [b](AMENDMENT EIGHT)[/b]

Her arms flew upward with a tired huff; a guttural groan resounding with the effort of a teenager grumbling at their bean and sprout dinner. If there was one thing Siobhan hated more than soggy instant noodles dripped on her week old jeans, it was a last minute e-mail.

[color=#FF9966]“Me entire feckin’ day wasted, ya [i]eejits[/i]!”[/color] Siobhan didn’t even have the strength to stop her hands from whatever they were doing to her messy ginger mop; pulling aimlessly as though she secretly hoped it’d fall out with the rest of her sanity.

She never quite understood why she bothered. Or more to the point, why didn't she just consider buying some fisherman’s shack and live the rest of her life off the grid. Because honestly? She had a better chance baiting fish than a bunch of snooty executive suits nodding along to their suggestive desk toy.

Sighing proved equally fruitless, however, and she figured shouting at a pointed e-mail detailing [i]someone’s[/i] lack of understanding the point of documentation at least put the exasperation to good use.

Her hands flexed at the built-in keyboard like they had the perfect, snarky retort ready. Instead one lifted and adjusted the slanted glasses on her nose and the other pushed Siobhan off the ergonomic chair in defeat.

[color=#FF9966]“Right, coffee.”[/color] She murmured towards the empty condo, a dingy little place in the middle of the city center Siobhan rented for the better part of a year now. Her socks flopped across the wooden boards towards the kitchen.

And that’s when it happened…

First there was the static behind her eyes and ringing in her ears, a flicker of something not unlike a white screen flashed as though her brain had suddenly decided to crash on principle. And then she fell. Not fell-fell, but that sense of vertigo as you’re hurdled through a roller coaster with inhuman g-force that made unprepared stomachs churn their half-consumed contents back out.

[color=#FF9966]“Jaysus,”[/color] The Irish accent lilted aimlessly as Siobhan’s consciousness sippled through the layers of quiet distress she’d come to master with a firm poker face. Her green eyes fluttered closed and open again, body splayed against the cold floor in ways she had grown familiar with during her student years; though missing the raging migraine she was pretty sure would come sooner or later.

Several voices rang through the room, and Siobhan had found the energy to pull her body into a cross-legged sit while she took stock of her new environment.

Her thoughts swayed between [i]‘Don’t remember havin’ a cult altar in me place’[/i] and [i]‘Shite, I’ve died’[/i], the latter prospect seemingly likely as she took notice of the angel-like creature standing in the middle who’d rambled about prophecies and destiny like it was a generic MMO with a million chosen ones running around.

And along with that several odd little creatures, things that didn’t seem it’d belong in either a petting zoo or a farm. One flickered oddly, like blocks of data fading in and out. And that’s when Siobhan noticed the weird device clipped to her belt; the tech piece seemingly reacting with beeps and static as though it had a life of its own.

[color=#FF9966]“Right. Drank meself stupid and put me VR kit on. Noted.”[/color] She muttered, deciding that was as good a reason as any before standing up and waving lazily at the other people there for want of a greeting.