As I gazed into a near-perfect copy of my face, I felt the memories riot up again.
Water. Test tubes. A sphere with mirror images of me. Catching a naked me in the middle of battle. Talking to a room full of self-righteous assholes. "I'm coming for you. And I'm going to be bringing a few of my friends." A row of blue bubbles, hundreds of Alices.
"Oh yeah." I whispered, the details slowly filtering to the surface. I was in Nevada, at Dr. Asshole's lab. And the me lying on the floor was one of his attempts to find a perfect anti-virus, a cure to the T-virus. A job that I had taken up after his not-so-unfortunate death.
A fresh wave of nausea interrupted my nostalgia. Time for me to see to my body first, then I could remember why I had killed myself. I pushed dead me away and levered my own aching body out of the gore.
I was in the bedroom—or the laboratory I'd set a cot up in and designated as my bedroom. I heard water running nearby, so I followed the sound into the next room. Apparently, I had left the shower running. Good thing I didn't have to pay the water bill anymore.
Coagulated blood, I'd learned, took a long time to wash off. I scrubbed myself raw as quickly as I could. For one thing, it was creepy taking a shower with a dead woman sharing my face in the next room. For another, a few more memories trickled back reminding me that I have this well-founded fear of tear gas spraying into my face from the spigot. I showered with my face away from the showerhead, just in case.
I saw a set of clothes lying on the cot back in my facsimile of a bedroom, but as they were spattered with blood, I figured I'd look around for less gruesome attire. I found a closet full of Dr. Isaacs' dress shirts. They were clean, but they also smelled of antiseptic and corruption. I'd rather run around naked than prance about in Dr. Asshole's clothing.
I shifted through several drawers when I found a stash—mine I presumed, though I couldn't remember putting it there yet. They weren't so much clothes as a bunch of holsters and sheathes strung together by fabric, but as I had more than enough weaponry to cover me, it was certainly decent enough.
I found my boots lying underneath the cot. I smiled. I liked boots. I tucked a few knives into their customary places, and settled onto the cot, my back against the wall.
"Now would be a perfect time for those memories to come back." I said, to the opposite wall.
I think the wall was more communicative than my brain.
All right. If my brain wasn't going to supply the answers, I'd have to looking for them myself.