(no subject)

[deloreandriver]

Characters: Marty
Setting: See prompts!
Format: Starting in prose, feel free to switch
Summary: Marty's been out of the Tower for a LONG time...
Warnings: Marty has a few shocks in store so he might curse a bit.

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Dorm Room 2-10, Backdated to April 10th

The first thing Marty did after calming himself down from the sleep paralysis (and dear god, he'd forgotten how terrifying that is) was to head immediately to his trunk and sort through what was left.

He had just spent the last year and a half in a dead world. Now that he's back in the Tower... he had things to do. He kinda figured he would wind up back here sooner or later. That's what he did with his time; preparing. Reading every single book he could get his hands on, testing himself, trying to remember all the things Doc had ever taught him.

Marty wasn't ready for this, but he had to trust in himself. First, he had to find out if the Doc was still around, and next... find out what's been happening.

He pulled on his jeans and the familiar striped shirt, then his jacket, and went out the door, pausing only long enough to look at the name plate. Riku, Kariya, and Prussia. Marty shook his head and went down the hall, looking at every name plate by every door.

There were so many he didn't recognize now, but a few he did... but no Doc. When he went downstairs, he started looking at the nameplates, but stopped in shock. Blank. And it was the same on the fourth. Going back up, he stopped on the second and frowned down the hallway, then went up to the first dorm floor.

Only two floors now... what had happened?

"Doc... where are you?"

---

Lab, April 10th


Marty skipped the oatmeal for now. He wasn't hungry. He was upset and disturbed Doc's name wasn't anywhere on the nameplates... but he can't really say he was surprised. Instead, he went down to the lab to see if any of Doc's things were there, and while he was relieved to see someone had still been using it all this time, he couldn't see any sign of Doc Brown or his distinctive notes. They had used the lab, right? That wasn't just Marty making things up?

Maybe the workshop? Maybe Doc had left something behind.

---

Workshop, April 10th

Marty poked about in the things in the workshop, looking for hidden caches of stuff they put away for experiments. He found some half-finished projects he had been working on, strangely untouched. They were parts of what Doc taught him, things he made to put the stuff in his head into use.

They looked kinda bad compared to the stuff he did in Doc's lab on Earth recently... but not too bad. Picking up a piece of metal that he remembered starting to turn into a sword, he held it in his hands for a while.

Comments

1st Floor Dorm Hallways

[oathshackledbird]

Do you know Doc Brown?

[Diarmuid is just starting a patrol run on the first floor of the dorms when he hears the muttered words. He turns to face the speaker, and doesn't recognize him at all. A new arrival? One from a world like the Doctor's world perhaps?

Or another of the newly returned who Diarmuid had just never met before they had been sent away from the Tower?

He steps closer as he waits for the answer to his question. Newly arrived or old return, there would be a lot of fill him in on...including the sad new that Doc Brown is no longer in the Tower.]

Lab, April 10th

[megazero_to_superhero]

There's someone else checking out the lab during Marty's time there. A man who—from what little is visible beneath all that gold and olive drab-ish armor—appears to be over the hill. Judging from the way he explores the lab aimlessly, frowning at machinery and inspecting the available instruments and glassware, he doesn't seem like the type who belongs in a lab.

That's the other thing—he's flying. Jets of bright blue plasma emanating from his boots and back are holding him aloft. He flits about the labware like a bumblebee, instantly bobbing away and speeding off to some other part of the floor the moment whatever's caught his interest ceases to remain interesting.

In fact, he almost runs into Marty after allowing himself to be too focused on exploring and not enough on watching where he's going.

"&dmash;Whoa, whoa!" The man does the airborne equivalent of "slamming on the brakes," throwing his feet out in front of him to halt his forward momentum and keep from colliding into the kid. "Jeez, sorry 'bout dat!"