I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2006-07-03 01:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | lex luthor, peter parker |
i_kryptify Out Of The Frying Pan [Open]
Shortly after the fifth coconut had been thrown into the open sea, a continuation of his earlier actions that had been brutally criticized through pestering whines by his anorexically-annoying female companion on that deserted sandlot, the door appeared. To his good fortune, the woman -- and her little dog too! -- were out like lights by that point, and being a self indulgent billionaire with the poignant disregard for most other people, he didn't see any cause to wake them.
Now, Lex Luthor was by no means a newcomer to the world of the strange and fantastic. He did exist in a world where the lives of everyday citizens were served and protected by a flying fruitcake in spandex tights, and where evil criminal masterminds -- including and those not unlike himself -- were in a perpetual state of attempted global domination. He was, after all, on a deserted island because he had gotten the maniacal notion that a continent crafted of crystallized kryptonite would be a good idea.
So suddenly finding a door, semi hovering over the water just off the beach, with a knob and an open keyhole, wasn't extraordinary in the least. Just convenient. And he wasted no time in walking knee deep into the ocean until he came face to face with the door.
He leaned forward to peek inside the keyhole. At first there was nothing but an infinite blackness on the other side. But then there was something. He wasn't sure what. But it was something. And something was better than the nothing he had now. And being that the woman was inconsequential to him, easily manipulated females that were pleasing to look at were a dime a dozen these days, he didn't even give her a second thought.
He reached forward and turned the knob.
And found himself standing in the middle of a street. An intersection, actually. With a taxi cab speeding directly towards him.
"What the--?!"
He leapt out of the way. An action which involved a rather uncoordinated roll that was sure to scuff up his suit moreso than it already was from that unpleasant beach. The taxi had screeched its tires, honked its horn, and as it continued down the road at unlawful speeds, Lex could hear the driver yelling quite a colorful bout of obscene vocabulary.
He grumbled and drew himself to a stand, immediately claiming safer ground on the sidewalk. And that's where he saw the peculiar street sign:
The City Police Department - 2 Blocks
Arkham Asylum - 5 Blocks
The Docks - 12 Blocks
LexCorp - Down The Street
He shifted his gaze from side to side as if he just discovered he was the victim of a cruel and unusual joke.
He didn't know this place. He had no recollection of this so-called City. Sure, some of the buildings looked like they could have been reminiscent of one area of Metropolis or another, but they weren't. He knew they weren't. And yet, apparently, unless this was Superman's sick idea of a prank, he had some kind of connection to this place.
He glanced to the street. The door was gone. There was no turning back now.
"Oh, hell."
He shrugged his shoulders and started walking.
From: i_thwip Date: 07/05/2006 05:19:00
WAS THAT CHARLES XAVIER?!
Oh no, Spidey didn’t think he could handle the unfamiliarity of this place and all the drama llamas that the X-folk brought with them. A spindle shot forth and overhead he soared again.
THIS GUY DOESN’T HAVE ASIAN EYEBROWS. WHEW.
Line released and the spider washed out. Feet planted beside the nicely dressed bald individual. Heroic hands folded across his chest. His suit was shiny in this light. Superman ain’t got nothin’ on this red.
“NEW ‘ROUND HERE?”
From: i_kryptify Date: 07/05/2006 05:44:34
Did he look like a overwrought school professor with a tendency towards mental migraines? No, no. And that point aside, he actually had the use of his lower limbs, thank goodness. If he'd known exactly how much of a goody two-shoes the masked insect was comparing him to, he might have felt compelled to level a nearby building.
It's not nice to stereotype bald people.
He halted for a moment on the sidewalk, pausing to look the thing up and down, face contorted into an unimpressed sneer.
"Cockamamie street signs and children dressed like bugs. Welcome to hell, Lex. Welcome to hell. Excuse me, my arachnid-esque interrupter, but I have places to go and people to see."
And why did that sign suddenly change? Actually. Where did that new building come from? He could have sworn this was an intersection just a minute ago.