|sam_thefalcon (sam_thefalcon) wrote in avengers_logs,|
@ 2018-04-06 20:09:00
|Entry tags:||-complete, sam wilson, stephen strange|
The Falcon Has Landed
Who: Sam Wilson, Doctor Strange
What: The Welcome Wagon Cometh
Where: Sam's apartment
When: After Hulkfest 2018
Rating: Green for now
Sam put down the machine pistol he'd been cleaning. He put down the barrel brush. He stood up, ready for action, surveying the room though he knew it was empty. Something was wrong. Something he couldn't put his finger on, but his instincts had rarely played him false.
The coffee table in front of him was covered with several layers of newspaper. On it lay a thoroughly-cleaned and reassembled Steyr SPP machine pistol and its disassembled twin, still only partially cleaned. A bottle of solvent, a can of oil, a small mound of soiled cleaning patches, and a large plastic bag of clean new patches, as well as a plastic case containing the cleaning kit were scattered across the table.
The light coming through the windows hadn't changed. Nor had the sounds of the city drifting up from street level many floors below. The scent of cleaning solution filled his nose, which was only reasonable. No creak of floorboards or soft footfalls on carpet. No air movement where none was to be expected.
Nothing out of place. Nothing unexpected. Everything was as it should be. And yet, it was all wrong somehow. It was like the opposite of deja vu. Instead of looking at the room and feeling that he'd experienced this moment before, it felt like it was all completely new. Like he'd been shunted into someone else's life without warning.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk of amusement at his own thoughts. "'You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful house,'" he murmured. "'You may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife.'"
He moved silently through the apartment, clearing each room. No assassins lurked in the apartment. The doors and windows were all closed and locked. He was alone in the--in his--apartment. He returned to the living room.
The feeling that something was off didn't fade, but nothing overt happened. Sam resumed his seat on the sofa, though he remained ready to spring up again for a time. Still nothing happened. He sighed, then picked up the weapon and the barrel brush and went back to work.
After a time he sensed he was not alone. He looked up. "My oh my, the circus is in town."