Chapter Text
Guinevere blinks awake in a warm, humming room. Her head pounds and her vision blurs as she tries to take in the sight of the room around her. She shakes her head to clear it and winces as it makes the pain worse, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the loud and bright lights in this room.
Ouch, shit. She slowly opens her eyes and blinks back the pain as she looks around the room she's in - empty of people. Good. She has a moment to figure this out.
It seems to be an engine room. Heat from copper pipes steam up the room as a machine whirs to her left. The sleek metal door to her right is shut, and bolted from the inside. She doesn't know how she got here - or why she would have bolted herself in. She gives herself a quick once-over, and seems to be perfectly fine aside from her headache. A few scars here and there from previous fights, but nothing new that she can see with her clothes on. Her hat and jacket are gone.
She picks herself up off of the floor and creeps toward the doorway, hand instinctively reaching for her pistol. Except - shit. Her pistol. Her hand grazes her hip as it hits empty space instead of a holster. Guess we're doing this the old-fashioned way. She slides the bolt out of the lock slowly, praying there's no click. She gets lucky and the door slides open silently.
Another room, also empty, greets her on the other side. This one at least isn't quite as bright as the last. The ship seems to be in “night” mode: the lights are dimmed and the portholes are shaded so the light from the nearby star is reduced. This must be the bridge. A wide window looks out into the solar system with a control panel beneath it. She briefly glances it over - steering, propulsion, a navigation system and some weird kind of communications system? There’s no radio, only a large, boxy monitor with a keyboard. She flips the switch on the side to power it on and it boots up slowly, revealing a page of text. “Ivy Alexandria: JUST ASK HER OUT ALREADY… [NEXT] Nastya Rasputina: Jonny likes to play fetc… [NEXT] Jonny D’Ville: Nastya chases those lit…”
What the fuck. Her head is still pounding and this shit is just making it worse. She flips the switch back off. She’ll figure that out later. She glances around the rest of the open room. There’s two other doors (plus the airlock) here - one is an open archway to a small kitchenette with a table. She opens the other into a bedroom. Her jacket is folded neatly on the bed with her hat and holster next to it. Her pistol sits on the desk. It’s a small ship, and there’s no one else here - she’s alone.
There’s a movement in the corner of her eye. She grabs her pistol, whirls, and shoots. A rodent falls to the floor from on top of the kitchenette counter. A second rodent pauses in shock and then scampers away quickly.
Great. She’s alone and there’s a sprat problem.