Stormtrooper Sergeant TK-622 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
loyal_soldier) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2018-04-01 03:43 pm
loyal_soldier) wrote in maskormenacelogs2018-04-01 03:43 pm
[OPEN]
WHO: TK-622 and whoever!
WHERE: Places!
WHEN: Post-Groundhog Day!
WHAT: Open threaaaads!
WARNINGS: A house fire, I guess?
1. Action!
He was getting twitchy again. The seven-day time loop had thrown him back into thinking like he was on Ralltiir. Couldn't trust anything right now. So when he smelled smoke and heard something crash, he was instantly suited up and heading toward the rising column of ash at a dead run.
It was almost a relief that it was just a house fire. But something was still wrong, someone was still screaming in the street, looking up at a fourth floor window. There was a man there, up above the flames and a twisted, fallen fire escape leaning drunkenly away from the building. Trapped. Off in the distance he could see emergency lights, but the fire crews probably weren't going to get there in time.
He pulled one of the grappling hooks from his belt, affixed it to the launcher on his rifle, sighted up through the smoke at the next window over from the man, and fired. The cord played out with a hiss as the hook flew through the window, smashing the glass and coming to rest embedded in what he hoped was a sturdy enough ceiling timber to hold.
He thought the man would take the way out, but he dithered. He was holding a bundle that looked like-- Dammit.
2. Café!
Tired. He was usually better at dealing with an adrenaline crash than this, but all the stuff that had happened recently was... well, it wasn't doing great things for his efficiency. Coming down off a rush was usually fairly smooth, but today it had given him a pounding headache.
That was why he gravitated toward a café, still smelling slightly of smoke despite being back in civilian clothes. Apparently when the armor vanished, it didn't take all the soot with it. He queued up and stared blearily up at the menu, failing to make sense of any of it.
"Excuse me," he said to the next person in the queue, "Which one of those has the most caffeine in it?"
3. Sneezing!
A day later he was washed and clean, but some of the ash had apparently gotten up his nose. It itched, and he'd been trying to ignore it.
It wasn't agreeing with that idea. Just as he was passing someone on the street, his nose went from ticklish to imminent sneeze in half a second, and he couldn't get his arm up in time. He was going to sneeze on the stranger.
Until at the last moment, his helmet popped into existence, muffling the sneeze--but nearly deafening him in the process--and shielding the passerby.
nguhhh. "Sorry about that."
4. Everything else!
[Insert your prompt here!]
WHERE: Places!
WHEN: Post-Groundhog Day!
WHAT: Open threaaaads!
WARNINGS: A house fire, I guess?
1. Action!
He was getting twitchy again. The seven-day time loop had thrown him back into thinking like he was on Ralltiir. Couldn't trust anything right now. So when he smelled smoke and heard something crash, he was instantly suited up and heading toward the rising column of ash at a dead run.
It was almost a relief that it was just a house fire. But something was still wrong, someone was still screaming in the street, looking up at a fourth floor window. There was a man there, up above the flames and a twisted, fallen fire escape leaning drunkenly away from the building. Trapped. Off in the distance he could see emergency lights, but the fire crews probably weren't going to get there in time.
He pulled one of the grappling hooks from his belt, affixed it to the launcher on his rifle, sighted up through the smoke at the next window over from the man, and fired. The cord played out with a hiss as the hook flew through the window, smashing the glass and coming to rest embedded in what he hoped was a sturdy enough ceiling timber to hold.
He thought the man would take the way out, but he dithered. He was holding a bundle that looked like-- Dammit.
2. Café!
Tired. He was usually better at dealing with an adrenaline crash than this, but all the stuff that had happened recently was... well, it wasn't doing great things for his efficiency. Coming down off a rush was usually fairly smooth, but today it had given him a pounding headache.
That was why he gravitated toward a café, still smelling slightly of smoke despite being back in civilian clothes. Apparently when the armor vanished, it didn't take all the soot with it. He queued up and stared blearily up at the menu, failing to make sense of any of it.
"Excuse me," he said to the next person in the queue, "Which one of those has the most caffeine in it?"
3. Sneezing!
A day later he was washed and clean, but some of the ash had apparently gotten up his nose. It itched, and he'd been trying to ignore it.
It wasn't agreeing with that idea. Just as he was passing someone on the street, his nose went from ticklish to imminent sneeze in half a second, and he couldn't get his arm up in time. He was going to sneeze on the stranger.
Until at the last moment, his helmet popped into existence, muffling the sneeze--but nearly deafening him in the process--and shielding the passerby.
nguhhh. "Sorry about that."
4. Everything else!
[Insert your prompt here!]
no subject
"Haven't come after me. Not sure why. Maybe they're targeting leadership first?" That was one of his worries. And given how little he saw leadership around here, he had no idea whether that was the case.
no subject
Though... if Optimus or Rodimus were ported in, Riptide imagines they'd want the Matrix.
"Unless... they don't want physical stuff?"