Titles, chumps, et cetera.

[deadthenred]

WHO: Toro, Winter Soldier, later on surprise special guest.
WHERE: A shadowy building!!
WHEN: Immediately after this log.
WARNINGS: Violence, trauma.
SUMMARY: See above.
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, Kitty can follow however.

Normally he would have fled the scene, burned it, maybe. Homeless people set fires all the time. Have to live outside. The state doesn't care for them, here, here it is America and people are free. He isn't sure who told him that.

But: the tracking device. Someone was coming, and he needed to find out who. And anything else he could. That was why he left the body out, why he let it empty slowly on the ground. Like a lake, like something you could peer over to see your reflection. He had a reflection, he was sure. He looked in the mirror to shave that morning.

So what he did then was sit in the corner and wait.

Comments

[hangtherisk.livejournal.com]

He wasn't going to be able to get up. The thought was more than he could handle. He couldn't stop staring at the big black heap of Bucky, that ugly metal arm. His brain was stuttering---gears grinding, getting nowhere. This couldn't have happened. This was a nightmare.

Tom couldn't move. He moaned, pulling his injured arm to his chest.

"He killed her."

[latrodectus]

"I wish I had gotten here in time." She hadn't been watching Rikki. That was her mistake, she should have been tracking both comms instead of following the fire cross the skies. If she had planned it better, this whole thing could have been avoided. She could have— no. That was all useless to think about. She'd get nowhere second-guessing herself.

"Don't move if you can't." Orders, orders. She tried to make her words softer. "How bad are you hurt?"

[hangtherisk.livejournal.com]

Toro shuddered, throat working. How badly was he hurt? He couldn't even put words to it. He caught red out of the corner of his eye---Rikki's back, uniform crusted dark---and lost the fight against nausea. The couldn't have been messier, more embarrassing. Horrible. So, so wrong.

"Bad," he croaked, dazed.

aaaand /returns to this log

[latrodectus]

"You can't stand, huh? We're going to need to get away from this building. You need a hospital." She looked at Tom, because Tom was the easiest thing in this room to look at.

"If it you can't speak, just shake your head. The wounds aren't fatal, if you were wondering. Extremities only." She didn't add, "lucky you." She knew luck had little to do with it.