The dreams had taken Motoko while she was connected to Stacy's brain. Unable to wake on her own, she nevertheless snarled and broke free. This was neither the time nor the place to be dreaming of death and the puppeteer's desperate black spiral. She was herself, and she was alive.
Honestly? This was getting to be a nuisance.
Divested from her own waking nightmare, the Major found herself on the streets of a soot-clogged dark city. Faceless people blurred past, unimportant and gray. So, this was....someone's nightmare? It had the subtly incorrect feeling of an implanted memory. Perception briefly sharpened around one car in the bland mix, and a face...Bruce Wayne. Batman.
Right.
Let no one accuse Motoko of beating around the bush: the leapt and with a smooth hum of servos leaped, coming down onto the engine block of the dream-limo like a ton and a half of pure steel.
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Honestly? This was getting to be a nuisance.
Divested from her own waking nightmare, the Major found herself on the streets of a soot-clogged dark city. Faceless people blurred past, unimportant and gray. So, this was....someone's nightmare? It had the subtly incorrect feeling of an implanted memory. Perception briefly sharpened around one car in the bland mix, and a face...Bruce Wayne. Batman.
Right.
Let no one accuse Motoko of beating around the bush: the leapt and with a smooth hum of servos leaped, coming down onto the engine block of the dream-limo like a ton and a half of pure steel.