(no subject)

[on_your_right]

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.

Comments

[shes_biochem]

Simmons had only been opening the door to go to the lab, she had only been going to the lab, but suddenly she is opening a door right on what looks immensely like a dinosaur that she had assembled the bones of, as a child. "Sam!" she cries, frozen in place with her eyes wide open. Her hand is frozen on the door and she gives a panicked little sound. "Do you have a plan? Or should I keep standing precisely where I am and hoping men with very big, very fiery guns are somewhere near?"

[grimvisaged]

He almost closes the door without going through.

There is a moment, hand braced upon the knob, wherein he takes half a step back, none of this of interest or his business. He is certain it is Wilson's back he can see up ahead through the trees, but Wilson is Rogers' friend, not his own, and he ought to have taken more care. There are monsters lurking behind some of these doors, the fact is well known.

(There are monsters lurking in front of them, too. He may be one of them.)

Something stops him, however, before he's pulled the door shut: A tug, barely there at the back of his mind, shaped like the disappointed face of Steve Rogers.

Sighing through his nose, he props the door open with a convenient branch and slips silently through into the brush. He is a shadow as he moves closer and then drops into a crouch behind a tree. The animal's hide is thick and he really should have brought something more powerful than his sidearm.