[ The feeling of waking up somewhere new is dizzying. It feels so familiar, and yet the panic sets in immediately all the same. There's no motion, no soft buzzing of her computer, no soft murmur of other operators outside. Her first and only instinct is survival, which is why she's so quick to draw her rapier and point it at the first person she sees. Only if you look vaguely familiar to her as a Rhodes Island operator will she lower her weapon and speak a little more calmly, but says all the same: ]

You there. [ Her Iberian accent is plenty thick, and very accusatory. ] Where is this? And is this some kind of joke? [ She waves the photograph in the air. ] It feels like I was at headquarters mere seconds ago, how did I get here??

What do you want me to say, huh? [ She's not speaking to anyone in particular, just talking to the air, mostly. She is almost yelling, but perhaps that makes her feel better? ] That you're right? You're not. And if you think I survived going through that hellish ship to succumb to your petty whines, you've clearly never had a taste of Iberia's resilience!