David "The Daring Little David" Puskás (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
megazero_to_superhero) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-05-27 04:13 pm
megazero_to_superhero) wrote in towerofanimus2013-05-27 04:13 pm
Entry tags:
Locked in the Tower ✪ Part One: Who Saves the Superheroes?
| Characters: | Late arrival David "Little David" Puskás and anyone and everyone! |
| Setting: | Any Dormitory Floors and staircases leading down to Floor Ninety-One. Later, the Cafeteria. |
| Format: | Starting with Prose, will match tagger's choice. |
| Summary: | Some people take the news that their world has been destroyed with nonchalance. Little David ... is not one of them. |
| Warnings: | Beware of low-flying superheroes! |
Introspection
David "Little David" Puskás bolts upright in his bed. The sleep paralysis left him in a state of mild panic. You'd think a Blaster like himself wouldn't be bothered by that sort of thing, given their reputation for being able to fight even in their sleep—but rarely does something like this just happen out of nowhere ... what was he doing before, anyway? Wait—no, that's right, he was about to return to Primal Earth after performing another dimension-scouting mission for Portal Corp. How'd he wind up out of his armor and in some kind of white spandex bodysuit? And in somebody else's bed? Because there's no way this could be his digs in Kings Row. His bedroom wasn't nearly this big or bland, and he sure as heck didn't share it with three other people—
At last, David notices the letters waiting for him on the nightstand. Without getting out of the bed just yet, he reaches over and picks them both up, scanning over the first one.
Your world has been destroyed.
David's guts turn to ice.
I saved you.
No.
Let's all be happy here.
No.
Screw. That. Noise.
David doesn't even bother reading the second letter. Both of them are slammed down onto his nightstand as he tears right out of his bed—he needs to get out of here, wherever this is. He needs to get back to Primal Earth. He's got to see this destruction for himself, and if it's true—there's got to be a way to fix it. Somehow. If nothing else Silos and his Menders at Ouroboros would know what caused it and what to do—where is his gear?!
It takes David a second to notice in his mild panic to notice the trunks and open the one at the foot of his own bed. With all the sloppy second-guessing of an impromptu fire drill, David starts gathering the pieces of his suit from the trunk, strapping them on and suiting up much as a knight would don plate mail. Once he's fully suited up and the helmet's heads-up display clicks on, David starts grabbing for his gadgets and weapons, only to find that there's only a scant few things waiting for him in the trunk—and what did they do to his rifle?! Completely in pieces, none of his ammunition to be found anywhere, not even the nanofactory—screw it, he can find a replacement on Primal Earth easily.
He just needs to get out of here, right now—wait. First, he opens the travel cigar case he'd just placed on his belt and places a fresh stogie in his mouth. Then he bolts for the door, kicking off into the air as his back and boot-mounted plasma thrusters flare to life.
Can't forget the cigar. Not even during the apocalypse.
Option A: Any Dormitory Floors and stairways between Floors 101 and 92
"GANGWAY! GANGWAY! HERO ON OFFICIAL BUSINESS!"
Little David's yelling that as he rockets through the Dormitory Floors and down into the tower proper. If he's not the only person here who's been "rescued" from the end of their world, then he has no reason to suspect that people wandering the hallways are potential minions of whatever villain laid Primal Earth low. Or so he's thinking right now. That, and he's not exactly in a position to go "defeat all enemies" lacking in ammunition and an assembled rifle as he is.
So right now he's focusing on finding an exit out of this place as fast as possible, and he's flying as fast as he can manage through the corridors and hallways of each floor in pursuit of that goal. Initially he tries traveling up the tower only to find that the first dormitory floor is the highest accessible point, then tries making his way down instead. For a short, squat guy wearing a suit of armor that makes him look like Danny DeVito trying out for an American football team, he's surprisingly nimble, almost like a flying dolphin—not once does he splat into a wall, though he does kick off of them a few times to keep his momentum up as he rounds corners and traverses staircases.
"OUTTA DA WAY! GET OUTTA DA WAY!"
Of course, the same avoidance of an ungraceful collision with the confines of the tower can't be said for surprise pedestrians in his path ...
Option B: Floor 91 - CLOSED TO
swordedpastContinuing his trek down the tower's floors, trying to find some means of escape, Little David's already seen how bizarre the floors can get. He hasn't given most of them more than a glance, though, because—let's face it, would a giant ball pit be the ideal place for a dimensional gateway to other worlds? If that letter had any truth to it (and considering how this tower's owners managed to grab him right in the middle of returning to Primal Earth), there are billions—no, probably orders of magnitude more than that—of lives at stake. Ball pits are a secondary objective.
When Little David flies down the staircase to Floor 91, his first thought is surprise at finding that the tower seems utterly disconnected from the rest of itself. That is some high technology or magic at work, right there.
Then he wonders if he could take a shortcut and fly down the side of the tower to find a possible exit back to Primal Earth.
—and then the flight system's thrusters cut out, as if he had manually switched them off.
It only takes a fraction of a second for David to recognize just what is happening: Power Suppression!
Without the flight system active, David has no way to correct for inertia. He's carried right off the stairway, thudding onto the floor and skidding across toward one edge of the tower. He tries to claw at the tower's floor, hoping he can find a handhold before he slides right off the edge of the tower. Who knows how far he'd fall—and if whoever it is that's spirited him away to this tower messed with his stuff upon "saving" him, they probably have taken or taken apart the MediCom Teleporter, too.
Little David manages to stop his slide just as his legs go over the edge. Now he's struggling to pull himself back up, without much of a stable grip to do it with. Normally pulling himself up off of a ledge wouldn't be a problem, but, well ... Power Suppression is a bitch. So is the fact that the floor is unshielded from the stratosphere, something that he is starting to take notice of in detrimental ways.
He's going to need some help.
Option C: Cafeteria
Some time after the ordeal on Floor 91 and having had time to process what information he's gleaned about the Tower thus far, Little David finally heads down to the cafeteria (using the elevator this time) to get some food. Oatmeal, if he's been told about that particular ritual every new arrival must go through. If not, he'll have a small altercation with the units that might be working here, but either way he's going to end up with a bowl of the stuff and not appear all that happy about it.
Though what's really eating at him is the prospect that his entire universe, everyone he's ever known, just up and died like that. Five years of his life spent as a superhero trying to keep that from happening, and it happened anyway. So he's trying to figure out the cause for that in his head while he eats the oatmeal, going over every possible threat he's been aware of that could be capable of ending the whole universe. At least it takes his mind off of the blandness of the mush.
And yes, he still has the cigar, currently holding it between fingers in one hand while he eats the oatmeal. And it's never been lit, this entire time.
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"Are dere a lotta people who do dat monster huntin' here? Do dey got any kind of, uh—organization for dat?" Because if there is, David's going to want to join up with it. ... as soon as he puts his assault rifle back together.
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And she was sure he'd find someone too. This place was still crawling with a wide variety of people with different talents.
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"Me, I'm Little David. The Darin' Little David, Defender of Primal Earth," he adds with a somewhat hollow grin. Not much of a defender if his entire dimension has been snuffed out from under him ...
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She avoided picking up on his title, if she guessed right, it would be a sore spot right now considering everything.
"Me, I be Xue'Kol. Guess back home I was a Mercenary Assassin for hire, but dat be changed here. I be jus' anotha resident makin' sure dey be survivin'."
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Other dead dimens—no, he can't accept that. Not until he's absolutely sure.
Still, she didn't outright say she was a hero in Azeroth. So does that mean he was wrong in assuming the Tower had a thing for bringing in superheroes? It leads him to ponder that for a moment—and a little carefully, he speaks up again.
"Speakin' of good people, uh—aside from da monsters an' da admins, is dere anybody dey've brought into da Tower I oughta keep my eye on while I'm here?"
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At the inquiry she shrugs and grin.
"Well, dey certainly don't discriminate mon. Joo be havin' as varied folk as dey be comin'. So of course der be a good deal of rotten apples."
She'd know, she knew a lot of them personally from her being a double agent for both sides.
"Jus' stick to yer gut is all I can be sayin' mon. Looks be certainly deceiving, in dis place even more."
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David actually looks embarrassed, now that he's thinking about it. Yeah, if looks can be deceiving in the Tower, he's going to have to be really careful about making assumptions. Damn ... that's going to be hard.
But wait ... something seems a little odd about how she said that.
"Whaddya mean? I mean I got you on da tower bringing in all sorts of types, but—'in dis place,' do da admins do more dan just screw around with where dey're puttin' monsters?"
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Because granted, there were sometimes that even she would have to question her sanity.
Holy crap, sorry about the long delay; things got real busy!
No worries!
Sorry again about the delay; I put a note up at the OOC comm, but I should be OK to tag this week!
"More things change, da more dey stay da same, right?" He gives a lopsided grin.
It's okies! No worries =D
"So long as ya be keepin' yer its 'bout joo, joo should be fine mon. Especially if joo already be knowin' how hard it be fur dem heroic types."
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David glances down at himself, looking at the open palm of one of his armored gauntlets.
"But dat's why I got into it, you know? After all my world went through? I couldn't sit dere an' watch crap happen to good people, not when I had a chance to do somethin' about it."