The time and place are vague. I was running through a slum; tattooed men with handguns aimed at me watch as I run past them, into a seamless divide.1
The tattered city transforms into an endless beach. Ahead, a blurred mass of authority figures line the shore. A girl in an orange jumpsuit runs at them screaming. She drops to her knees in front of them. I can't hear what she yells, but I follow as the men remove her lone protest from the platinum sand.2
I arrive at a concrete marketplace of some kind. She removes her orange jumpsuit. Light blue eyes radiate through short blond hair.3
... Finish later.
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