Who: Oscar, Eric. When: April 2nd, 1941 (after curfew) Where: Streets Summary: Oscar is lost...again. Warning: We'll see... Complete
Nine, ten, eleven - Oscar counted the roofs as he crossed them. He didn't give himself time to pause between each crossing and for every successful one he made he aimed to take a larger jump.
He landed heavily on the twelfth roof, steeply sloped and tiled in charcoal-black. The impact was enough to dislodge the slats his feet had hit and losing his balance he began to slide down the incline.
His weight was too great to prevent his descent and he lost his footing entirely, bottoming out at the ledge. The mistake shouldn't have been so significant, but as he grasped desperately at the guttering for purchase it came off in his hand, sending him downward.
He managed to hit the floor feet-first, but he couldn't suppress the cry of pain as they buckled underneath him, bringing the rest of his body to the floor.
'Blacked out,' he thought, not knowing how long he'd been lying in the alleyway. He coughed blood and tried to shake the ringing from his head before getting shakily to his feet.
"Ah," he exhaled thinly as he poked at his various sore spots, checking for breakages.
Planting a bruised hand on the damp brickwork beside him, he used the wall for balance as he staggered out into the street.
When he trusted his legs not to give, he walked out into the street. From the roofs he could find where he was easily enough, but he spent so little time as a pedestrian that he had no clue where he was.