Night 55: Pantry 1 (First Floor)

[toxicspiderman]

[teleporting from here]The pantry was only big enough for six grown men in the same sense that a K-car was. Arms everywhere, but it looked like nobody had materialized inside a shelf. S.T. leaned over the nearest body and pulled a package of chocolate chip cookies off a shelf. He ripped it open, stuck two in his mouth and four in his pocket, and

Comments

[unheroed]

Traveling by ring was probably new for some of the people in the group (Spider-Man had his own, but apparently hadn't known how to use it), but Harvey had experienced it last night and he sure as hell didn't want to be left behind just because their group had doubled. So the second that Sangamon had given his warning, he'd pulled forward to lay a hand on the other man's arm

[its_the_mileage]

Indy was expecting the nausea and disorientation this time, but that didn't ease the punch in the gut any as they disappeared and reappeared in the pantry. Once his stomach stopped roiling, he did a quick head count: yep, they'd all made it. Well, what do you know.

As soon as he'd determined that, and watched Taylor bite his cuticle and refill the ring (good to know), he was ready to get out of there. This room hadn't been designed to fit six people, let alone whatever they were likely to attract if they lingered too long. "Agreed. And the faster we move, the more of it you'll get to see," he said, leading the way out into the kitchen.

[to here]

[scalyfishman]

Hah. ‘Doomed Crew’ was about right, knowing what they were up against. Depth Charge let them sort out how they’d be moving between themselves- logistics, not exactly his strong suit- while he put the names to the faces. So Spider-Man (yeah, real original) was the one in spandex, Harvey Dent (the man with the face- seemed silly he’d ever thought he could be a ‘con, but with a name like ‘Dent’…) and two whose names he hadn’t caught, the hat guy and the kid with the sword it was a wonder he could carry. Presumably one of them was the ‘Scott’ from the note.

Before he could ponder just who it was, though, it looked they were about to move. The last time Depth Charge had seen a ring break he’d ended up in his bed before he could register any pain or weirdness or, well, anything, so it was only natural that he found himself tensing as S.T. raised the ring to smash it. But the teleportation was seamless. One second they were in the hall, next they were in the pantry like they’d just strolled in

[vsyourface]

Scott couldn't help feeling queasy after letting go of the arm he had grabbed (whoever's that was). He had experienced two forms of accelerated travel in his life - subspace and Landel's Insta-portals™ - and both had a tendency to make him sick to his stomach. Even though the transition from the hall to the pantry had been more or less seamless, Scott could still feel his eyes and stomach swirling some.

The feeling dissipated quickly enough, however, because COOOOOOKIIIEE. Omnomnomnomnomnomnom. Even with the hunger he had felt after missing breakfast and lunch, Scott had only managed to get down a little over half of the goop in his bowl at dinner. That stuff was just nasty. Thus, he snatched and scarfed the proffered cookie with a vengeance, followed soon after by a quick location of a cereal shelf (oh sweet mother of Kellogg, they had Cinnamon Toast Crunch; there was a god after all). Shuffling against his temporary roomies, Scott found a way to shimmy a garbage bag out of his coat pocket and pull a few boxes into it. He didn't

[toxicspiderman]

Scott was going the Keebler St. Nick route.  S.T. would have tried about it weighing him down, but the kid was carrying a cartoon-proportioned sword like it was made out of foam and duct tape.  It wasn't -- even  with still-adjusting night vision it was the dull grey of good steel.  A few cereal boxes were pocket lint in comparison, if a little bulky.

Sangamon didn't grab anything else -- he could always come back.  Finish this quest bullshit and throw a real party this time.  People here needed to loosen up.  Remember what they had to fight for.

Not that he'd wanted to stick around when he hadn't remembered.  Amnesiac didn't mean masochistic.  Or lazy, or stupid.  It was just depressing.

As soon as the bodies thinned enough to make a no-shoving-required path to the door, he took it.

[to here]