Entry tags:

!log, johnny storm, lee scoresby

Who: Johnny Storm & OPEN
When: Friday evening
Where: Midtown
What: Johnny's half-dead and there's no Baxter Building (well, as he knows it) to help him out. :(
Rating/status: TBD, probably PG-ish

-

Johnny had awoken bruised and battered and quite literally burnt out, slumped against a dumpster in an alley. After a momentary panic -- he'd tried to flame on and couldn't, he couldn't, and how was he supposed to defend Earth against Annihilus' forces if he'd used up his powers failing to prevent them getting here in the first place? -- he'd realised ... they hadn't followed him.

They hadn't followed him.

Unsure how he'd gotten back to Earth himself, though, he'd stumbled out of the alley and tried not to draw too much attention to himself (with his scratches and his torn uniform and the bug guts trailing from his boots) as he'd leaned casually on a newspaper dispenser. And he'd peered around at the city that was definitely his city and yet somehow different. And he'd glanced down at the copies of the Daily Bugle inside his leaning post.

And while unexpected time travel was not, in fact, entirely unexpected for a member of the Fantastic Four ... this was unnerving. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in the Negative Zone. He--

He was supposed to be dead.

If he'd been transported back to New York, even Sixties New York, surely at least a few of the others should have fallen victim as well? Ben-- where was Ben? (Johnny knew he'd be able to hear it if Ben were anywhere on the damn island.) Where were Franklin and Val? Alex, Bentley, Leech? But apparently it was just him. And if that was the case, well ... well, then that was the case.

So he'd ducked back into the alley, wiped away the battle debris and tried to make himself at least NYC-presentable before heading out again to walk in the direction of where (he hoped, oh how so desperately he hoped) he would find the Baxter Building.

---

Not a hint of Reed Richards' work could be found at 42nd and Madison, and while Johnny stared at something that certainly resembled the Baxter Building of his own time, he'd already peeked inside and been indignantly shooed away by the workers of a paper company.

(Was it the same one who'd owned the building before the FF? He couldn't remember.)

He looked further up, squinting against the setting sun in his eyes, and frowned. He could fly up just to check the upper levels weren't already inhabited by Reed, but ... oh, he was so tired. There were no aliens to fight, not right now, not right here. No portal to defend, no kids to save. The mystery of the Baxter Building could wait another few minutes while he sat, regained some energy, and cursed Reed for not making a wallet of unstable molecules so he could buy a cup of coffee when in uniform.

"Least the building's not in freakin' space," he muttered as he rested his head in his hands. Oh, man. This situation? Not good. He'd figure out the degrees of not good in, like ... five seconds...