Blue flames shot out at her from the doorway and then all went black. Marissa woke up covered in sweat, pink hair sticking to her face and the back of her neck. The same dream, it occurred every night  She would find herself down a long opaque hallway, doors only on the left side and on her right were endless rows of picture frames. They were all portraits of her. Marissa lived through many eras, changing her identity every few decades or so to avoid suspicion. It was a blessing and curse, living forever. Currently she found herself in the year 2045. Short blonde hair that she had died pink last week, tattoos running up and down her right arm.

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