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maskormenacelogs2019-01-04 11:51 pm
solarcharged) wrote in maskormenacelogs2019-01-04 11:51 pm
Entry tags:
Fancy meeting you here ( arrival / closed )
WHO: A Midnighter and an Apollo, albeit not the right ones
WHERE: Midnighter's apartment
WHEN: Early evening, 3rd January
WHAT: Apollos and Midnighters can’t avoid each other for long, it’s fate or something
WARNINGS: none
[ Another alternate reality, another day. A man of Apollo's experiences has nothing to fear from alternate dimensions; he has lived in the Bleed, the knife edge between realities, for the better part of ten years and there's yet to be a problem that he couldn't punch his way out of. (Albeit this new world seems to be suspiciously lacking in targets ripe for punching – but it's early days, Apollo supposes. Give it time and a bastard in need of punching will turn up somewhere.)
Even in civilian clothing Apollo stands out like a sore thumb in this world. The streets of Nonah in the early evening are filled with commuters heading home and Apollo, dressed in jeans and a shirt despite the chill in the air, is definitely not a commuter. He stands head and shoulders – literally – above the rest as he explores. Crowded streets part for him as he moves, walking upstream against a steady current of commuters, to let the haloed superhero past.
He moves with purpose, not that Apollo has anywhere in particular to go. Exploring at ground level is what Midnighter would do, he thinks to himself, and it’s what he does now: walking, not flying, like a normal person. Noticing and thinking and seeing what this world and its weirdly lingering Cold War actually looks like from the perspective of the people who actually lived here.
And besides – he’s looking for something. Something important. There’s yet to be a reality where the Authority were not present in some way, even in badly drawn comic books. Apollo can’t help but try to summon door after door, calling out across the eerily silent radiotelepathy channel for people he knows can’t hear him. It’s second nature to think of the word Door and think of home and - -
He stops short at the rippling orange rectangle that blossoms before him in the middle of the street. It looks like a Door, a real shiftship Door, dazzling and fluid with ripples of bright transdimensional energy. Apollo steps through eagerly, without so much as a second thought.
What’s on the other side of the door is nothing like what he’s expecting. There are no familiar silver curves of the Carrier’s Junction Room, no team mates ready to give him hell for winding up in an alternate dimension without them. There's just... an apartment. Unfamiliar, perfectly normal. Nice even. A place that clearly this Door considered ‘home’, whatever or wherever it might be. ]
WHERE: Midnighter's apartment
WHEN: Early evening, 3rd January
WHAT: Apollos and Midnighters can’t avoid each other for long, it’s fate or something
WARNINGS: none
[ Another alternate reality, another day. A man of Apollo's experiences has nothing to fear from alternate dimensions; he has lived in the Bleed, the knife edge between realities, for the better part of ten years and there's yet to be a problem that he couldn't punch his way out of. (Albeit this new world seems to be suspiciously lacking in targets ripe for punching – but it's early days, Apollo supposes. Give it time and a bastard in need of punching will turn up somewhere.)
Even in civilian clothing Apollo stands out like a sore thumb in this world. The streets of Nonah in the early evening are filled with commuters heading home and Apollo, dressed in jeans and a shirt despite the chill in the air, is definitely not a commuter. He stands head and shoulders – literally – above the rest as he explores. Crowded streets part for him as he moves, walking upstream against a steady current of commuters, to let the haloed superhero past.
He moves with purpose, not that Apollo has anywhere in particular to go. Exploring at ground level is what Midnighter would do, he thinks to himself, and it’s what he does now: walking, not flying, like a normal person. Noticing and thinking and seeing what this world and its weirdly lingering Cold War actually looks like from the perspective of the people who actually lived here.
And besides – he’s looking for something. Something important. There’s yet to be a reality where the Authority were not present in some way, even in badly drawn comic books. Apollo can’t help but try to summon door after door, calling out across the eerily silent radiotelepathy channel for people he knows can’t hear him. It’s second nature to think of the word Door and think of home and - -
He stops short at the rippling orange rectangle that blossoms before him in the middle of the street. It looks like a Door, a real shiftship Door, dazzling and fluid with ripples of bright transdimensional energy. Apollo steps through eagerly, without so much as a second thought.
What’s on the other side of the door is nothing like what he’s expecting. There are no familiar silver curves of the Carrier’s Junction Room, no team mates ready to give him hell for winding up in an alternate dimension without them. There's just... an apartment. Unfamiliar, perfectly normal. Nice even. A place that clearly this Door considered ‘home’, whatever or wherever it might be. ]