(no subject)
Characters: America, open
Setting: cafeteria, in front of the staff elevator
Format: I'll match you
Summary: After finding out what happened to the people who were taken away, America attempts to fix things by breaking other things. Like the elevator.
Warnings: language/furious America/etc
There wasn't much America could do to help the surgery victims directly, which made him angry enough on top of the fact that it had happened at all. That there were people he knew, and children, involved, made him angrier. That two of his citizens were involved just made the whole thing absolutely impossible to ignore for even a moment. America's always done righteous fury well, or he likes to think so. And this place is entirely deserving of his rage.
He knocks on the elevator lightly at first, mostly to test it. It doesn't feel like it should be hard to break through, not really. He can't find the seam that should separate the doors, but that isn't really necessary for him.
The sound, when he strikes the door a second time, reverberates up the elevator shaft and through the cafeteria. It's not even the full force his muscles are capable of, and it earns him an electric jolt that makes him yelp in surprise, but the door doesn't budge. And it definitely should have.
So he backs off and kicks it with everything he's got in him. The noise and vibration are even louder, and he yelps again as a stronger shock pulses through his brain, but again the elevator door doesn't even look like he so much as tapped it.
Furious, he turns to an empty cafeteria table and slams his hand down on it, snapping it in two like it was made of balsa wood.
"Hey! I know you guys are down there somewhere!"
He kicks the door again.
Setting: cafeteria, in front of the staff elevator
Format: I'll match you
Summary: After finding out what happened to the people who were taken away, America attempts to fix things by breaking other things. Like the elevator.
Warnings: language/furious America/etc
There wasn't much America could do to help the surgery victims directly, which made him angry enough on top of the fact that it had happened at all. That there were people he knew, and children, involved, made him angrier. That two of his citizens were involved just made the whole thing absolutely impossible to ignore for even a moment. America's always done righteous fury well, or he likes to think so. And this place is entirely deserving of his rage.
He knocks on the elevator lightly at first, mostly to test it. It doesn't feel like it should be hard to break through, not really. He can't find the seam that should separate the doors, but that isn't really necessary for him.
The sound, when he strikes the door a second time, reverberates up the elevator shaft and through the cafeteria. It's not even the full force his muscles are capable of, and it earns him an electric jolt that makes him yelp in surprise, but the door doesn't budge. And it definitely should have.
So he backs off and kicks it with everything he's got in him. The noise and vibration are even louder, and he yelps again as a stronger shock pulses through his brain, but again the elevator door doesn't even look like he so much as tapped it.
Furious, he turns to an empty cafeteria table and slams his hand down on it, snapping it in two like it was made of balsa wood.
"Hey! I know you guys are down there somewhere!"
He kicks the door again.