The Great Escape [COMPLETE]
Characters: James Sunerland, Odd Thomas, V, Harry Mason, Birdman
Content: Probably the campiest, most epic action-movie style chase scene you will ever read.
Location: All over Manhattan.
Time of Day: Late afternoon/evening
Warnings: Language, Violence, B-Movie Cliches
[[ooc: This is a log that Reverie and I have worked very hard on. It is fully illustrated and has it's own credits sequence. It's so long we had to write for not only our own muses, but each others as well. It is the size of a small novella but we assure you it's worth reading. Feel free to have any of your characters witness or hear the the events that take place from afar. Though nobody but V is actually aware of who is responsible for the following events. Well, maybe Harry and Walter but that's a given. Character cameos will post in after we have finished posting the log in its entirety. We have spent a month on this. Please read it.]]
It had been a while since the Clover attack, but the memory was still just as haunting as the day it happened. Scrounging for decent food in that old convenience store, just messing around really-and then suddenly deafening noise. Oh sure, it started off as a soft rumble but at the time he’d just ignored it. He’d ignored it until a gigantic-thing, whatever it was, lumbered by the store. All he saw really were its feet, and its back as it passed. It was hideous none the less, little parasites dropping of its back as it left destruction in its wake-and then the ceiling crumbled in on him and it went black.
James shook his head, pushing the memory from his mind as best he could and kicked a shard of rubble along the street. Another slow day. He was supposed to be looking for more wood to fix the roof, but frankly right now he wasn’t interested in much else but dicking around.
Hefting his steel pipe in one hand, he stopped, standing over a smaller piece of concrete and lining himself up. Wiggling his hips slightly, he squinted an eye, then swung his pipe like a golf club, sending the cement chunk sailing towards a building, ricocheting off a drainage pipe and off into an adjacent alley.
“Yes!” He holds up his arms in victory, grinning stupidly.
For him, it’s the small victories.
Content: Probably the campiest, most epic action-movie style chase scene you will ever read.
Location: All over Manhattan.
Time of Day: Late afternoon/evening
Warnings: Language, Violence, B-Movie Cliches
[[ooc: This is a log that Reverie and I have worked very hard on. It is fully illustrated and has it's own credits sequence. It's so long we had to write for not only our own muses, but each others as well. It is the size of a small novella but we assure you it's worth reading. Feel free to have any of your characters witness or hear the the events that take place from afar. Though nobody but V is actually aware of who is responsible for the following events. Well, maybe Harry and Walter but that's a given. Character cameos will post in after we have finished posting the log in its entirety. We have spent a month on this. Please read it.]]
It had been a while since the Clover attack, but the memory was still just as haunting as the day it happened. Scrounging for decent food in that old convenience store, just messing around really-and then suddenly deafening noise. Oh sure, it started off as a soft rumble but at the time he’d just ignored it. He’d ignored it until a gigantic-thing, whatever it was, lumbered by the store. All he saw really were its feet, and its back as it passed. It was hideous none the less, little parasites dropping of its back as it left destruction in its wake-and then the ceiling crumbled in on him and it went black.
James shook his head, pushing the memory from his mind as best he could and kicked a shard of rubble along the street. Another slow day. He was supposed to be looking for more wood to fix the roof, but frankly right now he wasn’t interested in much else but dicking around.
Hefting his steel pipe in one hand, he stopped, standing over a smaller piece of concrete and lining himself up. Wiggling his hips slightly, he squinted an eye, then swung his pipe like a golf club, sending the cement chunk sailing towards a building, ricocheting off a drainage pipe and off into an adjacent alley.
“Yes!” He holds up his arms in victory, grinning stupidly.
For him, it’s the small victories.