Dale Cooper (special_agent) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2012-10-14 14:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed |
Being shot is not as bad as I always thought it might be..
Who: Dale Cooper and John Watson.
Where: The children's sleepwear section of the island's largest department store. Near the novelty pig-shaped slippers.
What: Dale Cooper arrives having been recently shot. Doctor Watson saves the day!
When: Shortly after this and this.
Rating: Mid to high for blood and things?
Open: Maybe to Sophia? Otherwise no.
Status: Ongoing.
F.B.I. Special Agent Dale Cooper's memories of the night were largely in tact. But that didn't make them any easier to decipher. He remembered the tranquil quiet as returned to his room at the Great Northern Hotel. He remembered ordering a glass of warm milk from the hotel's room service. He remembered folding up his bullet proof vest, which he'd worn as per bureau regulations when working undercover, in pursuit of a wood tick. He remembered answering the door and being shot at point blank range. Three shots. He remembered being on the ground. Warm milk. Getting colder. He remembered being visited by a giant and being told three things. The giant had taken his ring. Something he would have check for when he felt he was able to open his eyes. When he had come to following that experience, Special Agent Dale Cooper had found himself somewhere else entirely. He had momentarily wondered if this was a place of waiting. But neither rebirth had come, nor the bright light of wisdom. In fact, it was quite dark. Not because it was night though, but because the store he now inhabited was closed. Empty. Devoid of life. And wherever it happened to be, it was foreign to him. Due to the disorientation caused by pain, loss of blood and finding oneself in an utterly unfamiliar place, Agent Cooper had mistook the device, that through some curious twist of fate had been dropped on the floor at a previous point in time and was now within his arm's reach, for his recorder. His unintentional broadcast of part of what he thought might be his final recording to his secretary, Diane, was answered by an Englishman, who, after a brief exchange, he sincerely hoped was alerting someone of the medical profession of his situation. Although his description of his surrounds had been unfortunately limited. Dale Cooper was on his back in the children's sleepwear section of the island's largest department store. Above him, more-or-less, was a rack of novelty slippers. The closest ones to him were made to resemble pigs. He had been shot three times. Fortunately, two of those bullets had been stopped by his vest, only significantly bruising his ribs. Unfortunately, the third bullet had caught the edge of the vest and embedded itself into his abdomen instead. Fortunately, though, one of the bullets had found that wood tick. Cooper was still conscious, but starting to slip a little now. |