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Jurassic Park (post 1)
Feb. 25th, 2013 12:44 pmErik had been preparing for this for two months. Maybe not this specifically, but for something. After the holidays, he'd known something was coming, and that it was going to be bigger and probably more lethal than what had come before. The screens in the Hub had only shown them a jungle, and his communicator hadn't displayed anything he could make sense of (though judging by Sherlock and Spock's reactions, it clearly meant something to them) but he knew better than to think there wouldn't be ample opportunities for death and mayhem down there.
He'd gone back to his room for the bag he'd had packed, slid the two knives in their sheaths onto his belt (he'd never had occasion for conversation with the big man Mystique had been in quarantine with, but was grateful for his forethought in having taken these) and ran back to the Hub, ready for anything.
Or so he thought. When Erik rematerialized the first thing that hit him was the realization that he wasn't in the middle of the jungle. The second thing that hit him was a wave.
It bowled him under, tumbling him, and he breathed in water, came up spluttering, mentally cursing. He'd been dropped down not too far from the shore; the coast of the jungle was to his left, the late afternoon sun glinting bright off the water, and he bobbed with the next wave, orienting himself and kicking out towards land. He'd managed to keep hold of his bag, thank God. It looked like he was alone down here-- the station must have scattered them-- and he'd need all his supplies if he was going to make it through the night.
"Never a dull moment," Erik muttered. Further down the beach he could see the low hulk of a rock and started toward it. At least he'd have somewhere to sit and take stock before-- he assumed-- he'd be expected to move inland.
He'd gone back to his room for the bag he'd had packed, slid the two knives in their sheaths onto his belt (he'd never had occasion for conversation with the big man Mystique had been in quarantine with, but was grateful for his forethought in having taken these) and ran back to the Hub, ready for anything.
Or so he thought. When Erik rematerialized the first thing that hit him was the realization that he wasn't in the middle of the jungle. The second thing that hit him was a wave.
It bowled him under, tumbling him, and he breathed in water, came up spluttering, mentally cursing. He'd been dropped down not too far from the shore; the coast of the jungle was to his left, the late afternoon sun glinting bright off the water, and he bobbed with the next wave, orienting himself and kicking out towards land. He'd managed to keep hold of his bag, thank God. It looked like he was alone down here-- the station must have scattered them-- and he'd need all his supplies if he was going to make it through the night.
"Never a dull moment," Erik muttered. Further down the beach he could see the low hulk of a rock and started toward it. At least he'd have somewhere to sit and take stock before-- he assumed-- he'd be expected to move inland.
