on_your_right: (Sam; grinning)
Sam Wilson [MCU] ([personal profile] on_your_right) wrote in [community profile] all_inclusive2014-11-09 11:40 am

(no subject)

Sam has never been the best with idle time. He's always wanted to be on the move somehow, be that as an active duty officer or just running around the Mall and being in the hotel makes him a little stir crazy. While he's aware that the current HYDRA situation means he probably shouldn't try to go make himself a hero back home, it leaves him a little at loose ends otherwise.

So he decides to start exploring doors. Some of them are easy enough to figure out - Disneyland is always a classic. Some of them are a hell of a lot more complicated and he's not sure why he decided heading into an unknown jungle was a good idea but now he's deep in the thick of it, the canopy of trees making it where he can't get a good idea of his bearings. The door is long gone, far behind him, and ahead of him is...well shit.

"That is a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are supposed to be dead." Except, apparently, not when you choose the random jungle door and end up in Jurassic Park.

(Sam isn't going to be surprised if someone tells him that it is Jurassic Park. His life is just weird and strange enough for something like that to be an every day occurrence.)

The dinosaur in particular is a T-rex and he thinks, if he keeps very still, maybe he can get out of this one alive. Still, that being said, he wishes he had his wings and some firepower to help even up the odds.
grimvisaged: (pic#8246716)

[personal profile] grimvisaged 2015-02-16 12:59 am (UTC)(link)
Standing as still as Wilson is, the creature might as well not see him at all, its lower jaw coming within scant feet of the top of Wilson's head as if he were no more interesting than the foliage. If it's sighting by scent, it's no better at that than seeing.

If he can slip back into the shadows, he should be able to move swiftly and silently to a position far enough removed that discharging his sidearm will provide Wilson the distraction he needs to escape. He takes one slow backwards step and is dropping into a crouch again when the sun pushes through the gray clouds and reflects off his left arm like a beacon.

There is little time to do more than shout roughly at Wilson to run before he himself is running away from the door, dodging around tree trunks as the jungle behind him explodes with pursuit.