Spencer Reid ∫∫ 001
Characters: Dr. Spencer Reid and anyone that wants to find him!
Location: Middle District, in the park
Time: Mid-day.
Style: Starts in third, but any is good with me!
Status: Open! Come and welcome in this lost puppy!
Cold and wet. That's how he feels. Did he have another fever episode during the night? But wasn’t he supposed to be cure of Anthrax? Spencer tries to reach for the covers of his hospital bed without having to open his eyes, but miserably fails. He cracks them open slightly but frowns as he notices the blue ceiling of the room as opposed to the white one of his room. Had he been moved to another part of the hospital during the night? Groggily, still feeling the pain and weakness in his muscles, the young man sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Giving his surrounding another, more throughout look, he feels the panic slowly seeps in his stomach. He is not in his hospital room anymore, nor is he in his home.
As he pushes himself of the ground, determined to find out where he is, Spencer feels the comforting weight of his gun on his hips, the stiffness of his Kevlar vest beneath his jacket. He feels a pointy object in his pocket where his phone should have been and reaches for it. What he pulls out of his pants makes him raise both eyebrows in surprise: instead of his phone, in his hand is a starfish-shaped object that might be a communication device, from the different options he can see on it. Nervously running a hand through his wet hair, Spencer tries to calm down his nerves. Surely, there is a rational explanation behind all of this. This can't be a hallucination from the exhaustion of the disease he's been fighting: the cold and wet feeling is too real to be conjured up by his subconscious. Plus, the hitching feeling on his forearm can't be anything else than real. As he rolls up his sleeve to scratch it, the young FBI agent nearly yelps in surprise. There, right above his wrist on the inside of his arm, is a black mark he’s never seen before. Looking at it closely, he can't help but wonder when he got tattooed. Thinking at first that this is one of Morgan's pranks, he rubs it hard, trying to erase it away. But he only gets a red, tender skin and no signs of this mark being a fake tattoo. Reid keeps looking at it, puzzled at the reason he decided to get a tattoo and why he could not remember getting it. At least, well maybe, it's sexy?
The young man shakes his head and tries to focus back on the situation. Looking around, he finally notices the buildings made out of rocks, the sea surrounding them, the sun lightly shining from the surface. But from the depth he can figure out he is by looking at the fish species swimming around the city, he should have been crushed to a human pancake. He’s read about a city looking like this one, but then again it is mostly known to be a legend. He really can't be in Atlantis, can he? Deciding that pro-active actions would be the best to find out the truth, Spencer starts to walk around, searching for any other people living in this place.
"Is anyone here? Guys? Morgan? Prentiss? Hotch?.....Rossi?"
He looks down at the star-shaped device in hand, his voice sounding almost hopeful:
"Garcia?"
[ooc note: The Garcia/Reid thread is totally highjackable if you feel like it! Come kill two birds with one stone by meeting them both in here!]
Location: Middle District, in the park
Time: Mid-day.
Style: Starts in third, but any is good with me!
Status: Open! Come and welcome in this lost puppy!
Cold and wet. That's how he feels. Did he have another fever episode during the night? But wasn’t he supposed to be cure of Anthrax? Spencer tries to reach for the covers of his hospital bed without having to open his eyes, but miserably fails. He cracks them open slightly but frowns as he notices the blue ceiling of the room as opposed to the white one of his room. Had he been moved to another part of the hospital during the night? Groggily, still feeling the pain and weakness in his muscles, the young man sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Giving his surrounding another, more throughout look, he feels the panic slowly seeps in his stomach. He is not in his hospital room anymore, nor is he in his home.
As he pushes himself of the ground, determined to find out where he is, Spencer feels the comforting weight of his gun on his hips, the stiffness of his Kevlar vest beneath his jacket. He feels a pointy object in his pocket where his phone should have been and reaches for it. What he pulls out of his pants makes him raise both eyebrows in surprise: instead of his phone, in his hand is a starfish-shaped object that might be a communication device, from the different options he can see on it. Nervously running a hand through his wet hair, Spencer tries to calm down his nerves. Surely, there is a rational explanation behind all of this. This can't be a hallucination from the exhaustion of the disease he's been fighting: the cold and wet feeling is too real to be conjured up by his subconscious. Plus, the hitching feeling on his forearm can't be anything else than real. As he rolls up his sleeve to scratch it, the young FBI agent nearly yelps in surprise. There, right above his wrist on the inside of his arm, is a black mark he’s never seen before. Looking at it closely, he can't help but wonder when he got tattooed. Thinking at first that this is one of Morgan's pranks, he rubs it hard, trying to erase it away. But he only gets a red, tender skin and no signs of this mark being a fake tattoo. Reid keeps looking at it, puzzled at the reason he decided to get a tattoo and why he could not remember getting it. At least, well maybe, it's sexy?
The young man shakes his head and tries to focus back on the situation. Looking around, he finally notices the buildings made out of rocks, the sea surrounding them, the sun lightly shining from the surface. But from the depth he can figure out he is by looking at the fish species swimming around the city, he should have been crushed to a human pancake. He’s read about a city looking like this one, but then again it is mostly known to be a legend. He really can't be in Atlantis, can he? Deciding that pro-active actions would be the best to find out the truth, Spencer starts to walk around, searching for any other people living in this place.
"Is anyone here? Guys? Morgan? Prentiss? Hotch?.....Rossi?"
He looks down at the star-shaped device in hand, his voice sounding almost hopeful:
"Garcia?"
[ooc note: The Garcia/Reid thread is totally highjackable if you feel like it! Come kill two birds with one stone by meeting them both in here!]