Narrative: Teddy Altman Characters: Teddy Altman (narrative) Where: Somewhere in Central Park What: Teddy arrives and flies off to help some people who seemed to be in trouble. AKA going to join the non-on-campus forces after this. When: Day 10 evening Rating: PG...?
Teddy woke up.
Not on his own accord, no. The sudden jostling and great impact of whatever he landed in startled him right out waking. He didn't have time to be sleep hungover or grumpy that he wasn't ready to be awake yet. He had bigger more pressing problems: where the heck was he? What was he sleeping in? Why could he not remember how he got here? And yet, those even seems just as unimportant to the fact that he could only remember two things, distinctly.
His name was Teddy Altman. And he could shapeshift.
But what did he have to eat earlier? What was his mom's name? Where did he live? Did he have anyone who was worried that their son was missing—certainly he was missing because who casually fell asleep in things that looked like something from the pod people? How did he know what pod people were? Was he a pod person? Oh, gosh. No. Teddy did not have time to have time to contemplate his existence and have an existential crisis when he couldn't even recall other important facts about himself currently.
He leaned heavily against the hatch of the capsule, the door sliding open easily for something that just crashed landed. Why couldn't he have landed in the field behind a farm like Clark Kent—wait. Who was Clark Kent? Was that one of his friends? Why did that name spring to mind? Teddy clung to it, realizing that he had more questions than answers and certainly that had to be a name of importance if he could remember that.
Okay. Teddy Altman. Shapeshifter. Friend named Clark, with possible shared scenarios of crash landing. Stepping out of the pod however only made things much, much worse. There were tired, old, dead trees everywhere and he frowned. He couldn't recall any forestry or hiking experiences immediately—a shame, honestly—and hiking in an arbitrary direction didn't feel exactly safe. Teddy didn't have much of a choice. Stay with his pod and maybe die of starvation, dehydration, be eaten alive or murdered.
Or... walk until he found something. Or someone.
The potential of moving gave way to more options: Find someone that knew Teddy Altman. Knew he was a shapeshifter. Knew someone named Clark Kent. Three out of... whatever innumerable things he should have known wasn't so bad. If he stayed optimistic, there was a good chance something could be rectified. His memory, maybe. Perhaps the crash just jostled everything around; partial amnesia.
Teddy grabbed the pack that had been secured with him, closed his eyes, spun around ten times and started marching off in the direction that he stopped. It could be worse, but nothing was worse than not remembering who you were. Including directionless stumbling through woods only knowing your name was Teddy Altman. You were a shapeshifter. And you may or may not have a friend named Clark Kent.
After a few minutes of walking, Teddy paused realizing that it was getting dark (darker) and his stomach was growling. He dropped down to open the pack, digging around for something to eat. Drink. Anything. Counting his supplies should have been first priority. Especially because nestled inside the bag was something that looked like a hand held radio, some kind of communicator. If on cue, it beeped with a message. Help was needed. Help Teddy could do.
He was faster now, rather than cautious, like his walking had been. He shoved everything back inside the bag. He was a shapeshifter, and as terrifying as that could be, he needed to do something. That message meant there were people here, others maybe like him. Teddy took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and was pleased at the ripple-pop in the air of leathery wings unfolding from his back.
Why had he not done this before?
Easy like breathing, Teddy shot up and took flight, his wings flapping involuntarily as if his body knew what to do with wings (even if he didn't). He could see above the treeline in the dark. Surrounded by buildings, the "campus" could be anywhere. He started to pump his wings and fly as fast as possible. Time seemed like a sensitive matter and these people were the only ones who could help him.
Help was on the way. If he nerded out at how cool that sounded in his head, no one could see it.