InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "why so sullen edward cullen?"

Logan (canucklehead) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-10-15 10:35:00

Entry tags:

abby, james howlett, roy harper

Who: Logan and Open
What: Logan wakes up in a room full of strangers and decides 'No thanks'.
Where: The community housing building and surrounding exterior.
When: Backdated to the start of the new plot, October 7th-8th
Rating: TBD
Notes: I'm advancing Logan's timeline to just after the end of Civil War, where he's now debating joining the Secret Avengers.

Also: This one can work just like the one inside the community center. I know not everyone's character would want to sit around in a room full of strangers and, I'm sure, there are more than a few who just plain wouldn't. Please, feel free to reply to Logan or Sub-thread with your own characters within this post if there are people you'd really like to get in on this plot but just can't quite figure out a way to get their characters to interact with a buncha strangers.

There were periods, whole stretches really, of his life that were hell. Bad things happened, that was just the way of it. He lived a long time, he fought in wars, killed men without question, was stuck with needles, brainwashed, experimented on, and still he kept going. Waking up in a strange place, surrounded by strangers? That wasn't anything new, but that didn't mean he had to like it and, while the Logan of old would have likely started shouting and waving claws, demanding answers to everything, that hadn't been his first reaction.

Waking up confused, dressed not in his costume, in a room full of strangers who had no answers, really only seemed to present the weathered hero with one option: He needed to get out. There were no answers to be had here and, even if they were, he wasn't so sure he wanted them anymore. So, he was somewhere he didn't belong, so he was somewhere the world didn't seem to know him and where he was surrounded by people he didn't know. That, in all truthfulness, didn't see so bad at the moment.

The world he remembered was in ruin, having torn itself apart at the stitches during the Civil War that had erupted post Stamford. He couldn't even begin to calculate the numbers of the dead, or how it would impact the rest of the world hence. He couldn't even imagine a world where the defenders of Earth had torn themselves apart ever coming back together again, and he likely had more experience in that department than anyone. Wars changed everything, changed everyone. To add to it, Stark was running S.H.I.E.L.D - something he opposed in particular - and Steve was in Jail.

In short, the world he knew, had ended. New York was in ruin, Richards was the biggest, most unscrupulous, sonofabitch Logan could think up, Stark was a dick with his own personal agenda, Summers was a useless bastard who seemed to be hell bent on staying out of fights he could help and getting involved with ones that would get him and the others hurt, and humans? They'd had enough of mutants to last them a lifetime. That world was fucked and, even with his plans to go underground with Parker and Rogers, to fight the good fight away from the public eye, he hadn't seen much hope for it.

A faint sniff was given at the air as Logan made his way toward the nearest exit, already patting his pockets for a cigar out of habit. The important thing wasn't what he did smell, but rather what he didn't. He didn't hear anybody screaming, he didn't smell anything burning, and nobody was trying to hit him with anything. He had caught wind of a few scents he recognized, enough to give him pause, but little more. They'd find him, they always did, and he couldn't help but wonder just what that meant.

Still, as he crested the exit, with a black dog bounding past him, he screwed the cigar butt into his lips. It didn't smell like one of his and, the way he saw it, that was the biggest question he even cared to ask at the moment - but not before lighting it and glancing at the skyline of the city.

"Place is in one piece. That's nice." He commented, mostly to himself, before leaning against the building and genuinely trying to make a decision about just which way he was going to start walking.

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redarrow_harper
2012-10-16 12:43 am UTC (link)

The last thing Roy remembered before he'd woken up was being attacked by Prometheus just after he'd spoken to Lian and Mia. His daughter was at the forefront of his mind as he'd come to and realized that he was in a room, surrounded by about a hundred other strangers, some of whom were still sleeping. While he wasn't dressed in his Red Arrow costume, Roy did find his quiver and bow just under his cot, which made him feel a fraction better, but he was still extremely uncomfortable. He knew he had been in his costume when Prometheus had attacked him, so how was he now in civilian clothes? Why would someone kidnap him, change his clothes, but leave his weapons? Nothing was making sense at the moment and while he would have loved some answers, he wanted to get back to Lian even more. With Prometheus on the lose, no one he cared about was safe and he wasn't about to let this slow him down.

Slinging the red quiver over his shoulder, Roy did a quick once over of the room and quickly headed towards the door, where a few people seemed to be loitering and just as confused as everyone else. He knew some would probably give him strange looks because of the bow and arrows, but he really didn't care right now and slipped out the door.

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canucklehead
2012-10-16 05:17 pm UTC (link)

Two, quick, intakes of air rushed into his nostrils as he sniffed at the city around him. It smelled like Earth, like where he was from, but it wasn't. He knew that much. The sky was wrong, the stars were wrong, everything was wrong. It was just one more thing on a long list of things that didn't add up, and it left the timeless man feeling exceptionally weathered and tired feeling.

Part of him would have longed for a familiar face at that point, even someone he didn't particularly want to see, unless of course it was someone who would have picked a fight with him. So far though, all he'd managed was a large collection of new scents and a whole mess of odd, not least of all was the man who seemed in all kinds of a rush, with a big, red, quiver, strapped over his shoulder.

"What's the rush, bub?" He asked the question bluntly, on the tail end of an exhale from his cigar. Truthfully, Logan felt like he'd seen enough people running off to die lately and, considering the guy didn't look like he was from a time when arrows were the most common thing in the world, Logan pegged him for likely some kind of hero. He'd seen enough of those die too and, if there was a good reason for heroes to go rushing off to die, knowing about it ahead of time was something he deemed important.

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becauseihaveto
2012-10-17 11:36 am UTC (link)

For what wasn't the first time, and probably what wouldn't be the last, Abby had woken up in a veritable panic as her senses had immediately alerted her to several very important facts. The first one was that she was not in her trunk, which is where she last remembered being. The second, even a bit more important than that fact, was that she was not on a train, either. And the third - and perhaps most important - was that the sun was beaming down on her.

Eyes snapping open as she instinctively jerked away from the heat that was starting at her hand and slowly making its way up her body, Abby quickly looked around with an obviously confused expression. There were strangers surrounding her. That alone wasn't too strange or different. Abby lived a mostly solitary existence, save for one or two people she allowed to get close from time to time. However that fact, coupled with all of the others, definitely caused fear and confusion to being warring within her for dominance.

And then there was still the fact of the sun. A sun that hadn't burnt her, she realized as she cast a glance at the hand that had been lying directly in the bath of the warming rays. Not even so much as a crack on her skin. She didn't understand why and was immediately all but consumed with trying to figure it out.

Seconds gave way to minutes, which gave way to nearly half an hour, before Abby had placed enough of her hand and then arm into the sunlight that she felt safe trying it without benefit of the glass window to obscure the light. She was still in a perpetual state of shock, unable to believe that finally, finally, after all of this time, she was able to once again go out in the light. Yet she still made her way to the doors, oblivious to the going-ons around her as she slowly stepped through the exit and made her way outside.

Her bare feet were silent, her body oblivious to the chill in the air, as she passed through the threshold and then, one small step as a time, out from underneath the small bit of shade provided by the doorway, until finally she was standing in direct sunlight. Completely silent, eyes shining with wonder and her movements slow and deliberate in order to better sear the moment into her memory, the eternal twelve-year-old turned her face up to the sunlight and let her eyes slip closed.

That is, until a voice dragged her back to the present. Eyes snapping open wide, she jerked her head toward the sound, realized he wasn't speaking to her but rather to someone who had exited just before she had, yet rather than going back to simply basking in the light instead found herself also looking in the direction of the bow-and-arrow toting redhead who had been addressed. Now she, too, found herself curious as to where he might be going and if anything interesting might be waiting for him there.

Although she was pretty sure nothing could be as interesting as her suddenly being able to walk in sunlight after several centuries of being forced to live in the shadows.

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