I Moderate (i_moderate) wrote in we_archive, @ 2005-12-01 01:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucas trent, theodore kord |
i_countcalories It figures. [narration/open/whatever!]
He felt sick, staring into a face that he couldn’t say he had once trusted, but one he felt familiar and relatively comfortable with. Just another “thing” to go wrong.
It figured, in the completely illogical scheme of things with his life, that he was staring down at Max. The Max he had known was the scuzzy bussiness man with some humanity. Not this stranger with ideals of lunacy.
Maybe that was why Beetle didn’t feel fear when he saw the arm moving in slow motion, mimicking death scenes in movies. It just figured.
Go to Hell Max. Cliché, and not the most suiting for last words, really. He couldn’t help but feel anger, not just of betrayal. And it wasn’t just directed at Lord. He had to face this alone, defending those who didn’t even listen to him.
Native nobility. His whole life. Wasn’t that what they called Woodrow Wilson? Or was it Roosevelt? Couldn’t remember. Why did it matter? The gun was raised at eye level.
White. Pain.
It figured. The one time Booster became worried, the one time Michael showed fear.…
When the white faded into grayness, to blank and unfamiliar streets and the pain dulled into a mild headache, Ted had a delayed reaction. His hand swung up, reaching for where he was sure he had been shot, excepting gore, ooze, anything. He drew away his hand from his face and found that his glove clean, the costume spotless. He frowned and looked around again, the climate not pleasant, but not what he expected from Hell. Not like that short visit. One of the few reasons why he was able to drop fast foot craving for good. It was a city, like Chicago, the Hub, Gotham, Metropolis, expect nothing distinct caught his attention. It wasn’t Hell.
Pat Robinson, Ted thought with a slight frown as he absently rubbed the back of his head, growing faintly alarmed there was no damage of a bullet through the head under his finger, is going to be one pissed off camper.
Ted pulled off his goggles and cowl, as if he hoped that they were somehow blocking the obvious and found that to be of no help. “If this is Heaven, someone better have a really good explanation.”
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