The gunshots from her pursuers cracked, piercing the silence of the night before her screams rang out.<br/>Satisfied their quarry was dead, the men scattered as sirens drew closer.<br/><br/>Rosalie did indeed fall 20 feet to the ground landing leg-first, but the ground wasn't quite the ground. The Pacifica Embassy to Chicago was by all rights, a fortress, surveilled and secured by technology beyond that of the rest of the world. Except for one avenue. A deliberate security 'hole' under continuous passive surveillance and hidden patrols, though one protected by sheer height, razor wire  and a literal leap of faith, it had attracted more than one desperate soul seeking asylum in the 15 years of its existence. Airbags fired like more gunshots, deploying just in time to save her life, but not in time to keep her conscious, or to do anything about her now-mangled beyond recognition leg.<br/><br/>While the doctors of the Embassy treated her wounds, including outright replacing her leg with a genetically-identical clone an investigation revealed who she was and the circumstances, or probable circumstances, at any rate, behind her arrival.<br/>They'd spent years eroding the stranglehold the mob had on the city, and had all but dismantled the entire organized operation, save for one man: Edward Scaramucci. The elderly patriarch of a crime family dating back to the 1920's. He was the one that a joint task force of Pacifican Intelligence and the FBI tailed to Delaney's that night, but they had no evidence of wrongdoing, nothing concrete to put the well-connected man away for good.<br/><br/>But Rosalie did.<br/><br/>The city had spring out of nowhere 20 years earlier, a veritable bastion of technological superiority from parts unknown, home to races of creatures that, by all rights, were straight out of fairy tales (or so the stories led one to believe). By now the city, located in what was empty farmland in the middle of Kansas, was a technological and libertine paradise home to ten million people, a good majority of them not even completely human. Yet the city's walls were impenetrable to the outside, for some of them could read the emotions of others and sense deception a mile away, and it was that reason, among others, that made it a safe harbor for those that had good cause to vanish. They'd rescued thousands from abusive homes, trafficking organizations and provided refuge for those needing the ultimate identity switch, for they possessed the ability to change someone's physical appearance on a whim, though the details were shrouded in as much disinformation as fairy tales.<br/>Chicago PD and FBI had gotten to Rosalie's family in time and placed them in protective custody. Mr. Delaney's widow wasn't so lucky. But they couldn't know Rosalie was alive, not yet. Not until they had a solid case against the rest of Scaramucci's organization. She would have to remain hidden, perhaps for months of years. But she also had to come to terms with what happened and worse, very few could know her true identity.<br/><br/>A team was assembled to watch over her and shepherd her though her tumultuous days ahead<br/><br/><b>Two Weeks Later...<br/>
</b><br/>The girl formerly known as Rosalie Clark awoke in a white hospital room, that looked normal enough until one got a look at the monitoring equipment. By her side was another young woman, a tall, dark-haired, almandine-eyed woman with feature placing her ancestry somewhere in China or Japan and dressed in a gray blouse and blue jeans. She spoke.<br/>"Rosalie," she said softly, a slender hand on the stirring girl's soft, pale shoulder. "wake up," The name would never leave this room.<br/><br/>The girl stirring to consciousness was no longer the slimy built, 5'6" brunette that had been admitted weeks ago with an all-but-destroyed right leg. Now she was 5'1" and a good 60 pounds heavier with pale skin flecked with red freckles and rust-red hair cast about her face like a mane. She was, as the local parlance called the form, 'pleasantly plump', though the body's sculptors had gone to great lengths to preserve the 22 year old's athletic ability, with more than a little muscle in her thighs to propel her much wider-hipped and heavier physique. The rest was evenly spread out, giving her a heavy bust, a thick ass and plenty of softness around her stomach, shoulders and cheekbones.<br/>Azure-blue eyes fluttered as her keeper tried to wake her with her name once more.