Bart Allen>> Impulse (imp_ulsive) wrote in brightlightlogs, @ 2010-04-14 23:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | bart allen/impulse, virgil hawkins/static |
Who: Virgil and Bart
What: Confusion, Bart running his mouth, Virgil being forced to listen…
When: Evening
Where: Their apartment
Rating: TBA
Status: In progress
Nobody liked being captured. Kidnapped. Dragged off. Whatever you wanted to call it.
Claustrophobia would have no doubt set in if that door hadn’t given and opened when he’d gone to try his luck at getting out. Bart was okay with rooms. Just as long as he could leave said rooms whenever he felt like getting a breath of fresh air. Internet access or no internet access, he could think of a million other places he’d rather be right now. Vegas was nice and all, but when you had no reason to wake up there without a single memory of voluntarily taking yourself there, nice began to quickly meld into creepy. He felt like he was in some stupid horror movie, where a bunch of people unexpectedly found themselves in a city that at first didn’t seem so bad, but soon revealed itself to be overrun by zombies or something equally as evil and gross looking.
His comm link was shoved in his dresser back home and Bart was now incredibly sorry that he’d fallen asleep in sixth period English. You’d think that you’d be safe letting your guard down in a Kansas high school. Sure, detention was something you always risked and being startled awake by a heavy book being dropped onto your desk was going to happen once in a while. Not… this though. Nobody who shouldn’t know knew that Impulse was a seventeen year old kid who went to school. That again brought up the whole kidnapping thing with the question of how the hell it happened in the first place.
At least he had his phone. Or so he said to himself before he’d tried it.
Either the whole team had forgotten to pay their phone bills or somebody didn’t want him to call out, because he’d tried and gotten nothing. And Chloe always answered. With numbers that no longer worked, the apartment and the laptop didn’t seem so out-of-place generous anymore. It just seemed mean. Like they were taunting. Here’s you’re cell but oh yeah, nobody’s going to answer so don’t even try it.
He’d gone out and returned before his roommate would be able to look and see that he was gone. Still feeling the breeze from his short-lived trip outdoors, Bart settled on a chair near a desk like he’d always been sitting there, and looked down to study the tattoo on his wrist.
“I definitely feel like part of the cool crowd now.”