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call_me_snakeTitle: What the Hell?
Fandom: John Carpenter (Escape from NY/LA)
Characters: Snake Plissken
Prompt: 012: Orange
Word Count: 829
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Continued from Here
Summary: Snake wakes up a bit more clearheaded but no less confused.
Plissken was aware of the cloth piled around him long before his eye opened. He was trying to figure out where he was and why before appearing awake. it was a defense mechanism that he'd learned long ago from years of being captured. The memories he had didn't make sense. It didn't take hours or days to walk across a hall but his mind told him that was how he spent the past two days. Snake began to wonder if it was a dream. A slight headache plagued him but he wrote it off as his eye. Memory though told him he had a wire stuck in his head. Of all the insane things he'd dreamed since the war wires in the head had never been one of them.
Gingerly he reached up through the mounds of towels he realized he was buried in when his eye finally opened. The upper side of his head hurt and touching it caused a spike in the throbbing headache. Plissken sat up examining his hand. Tiny red flakes of dried blood were all over his fingers. He felt hungry and still a bit groggy. More immediate he wondered what he was doing in an industrial laundry bin. Nothing was making sense. Maybe this was a dream where he dreamed about waking up? It seemed logical except for the all too real surroundings. Snake had to see his where he was.
Peering over the side Plissken saw several orderlies in orange uniforms. Around the room were banks of washers and dryers. Confused, Plissken settled back down into the bin he was in to think about what was going on. His head felt a little foggy but there wasn't enough fog to make this go away. After several minutes deducing the facts and piecing together what he knew Snake decided the best course of action was to assume this was real. What could it hurt if it was a dream and he went through the motions in his overactive mind? Nothing. If this was real though and he pretended it was a dream the costs could be death. Snake took one more gamble at looking over the room.
The orderlies were gone but a far door, like a restaurant would have swung freely. He was alone. Slowly he stood and tried to get out of the bin. Dizziness washed over him as soon as both feet were no longer planted on the ground. He struggled for balance as his body lurched foreward. There was no time to right himself. The ground came up fast and he managed to catch himself. Snake lay on the floor for a few moments to push off the spinning room. He had time to question why he was wearing a terry cloth robe but nothing except the hazy, surreal memories he thought were of the day before offered an explanation.
Snake crawled out of the over turned bin and sat against the side of an industrial dryer to reorient himself. He determined he needed out of where ever he was. His gut said it was bad and he went with it. His gut instinct had never been wrong. Plissken righted the spilled bin and piled all the towels into it. He left the robe there as well. The room was warm presumably for all the dryers. Snake moved along the bank of machines until he saw one that was spinning orange fabric. The motion through the glass front hypnotized him briefly before he opened the door. Orange cloth spilled out onto the floor at his feet. Most of them were completely dry. He rummaged through and found a full uniform. He pulled on the scrubs before shoving the spilled clothes back into the dryer. He turned it on again knowing that the best way to escape was to leave no trace of your presence. His hair he pulled back and tied off with a rubber band he found on the counter. It would make the disguise a little more effective at least from behind. Snake realized he still was without shoes but that couldn't be remedied at the moment.
He was faced with a decision. Several doors led from the laundry room. The question was which should he take. Another question caught his attention. What floor was this? Snake headed for a window and looked out. From his estimate he would say four or five. Jumping would not be an option if he was cornered. The view gave him an understanding of what he faced when he got out of the building. A guard shack was by a gated exit. The guards were dressed in heavy black with rifles. USPF. His stomach knotted and the urge to leave doubled, tripled, almost overwhelmed good sense. He'd been in worse situations. Surely this one wouldn't be that difficult.
Plissken took int he room and headed for a random door. He'd never be out of this place if he didn't get moving.
Fandom: John Carpenter (Escape from NY/LA)
Characters: Snake Plissken
Prompt: 012: Orange
Word Count: 829
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Continued from Here
Summary: Snake wakes up a bit more clearheaded but no less confused.
Plissken was aware of the cloth piled around him long before his eye opened. He was trying to figure out where he was and why before appearing awake. it was a defense mechanism that he'd learned long ago from years of being captured. The memories he had didn't make sense. It didn't take hours or days to walk across a hall but his mind told him that was how he spent the past two days. Snake began to wonder if it was a dream. A slight headache plagued him but he wrote it off as his eye. Memory though told him he had a wire stuck in his head. Of all the insane things he'd dreamed since the war wires in the head had never been one of them.
Gingerly he reached up through the mounds of towels he realized he was buried in when his eye finally opened. The upper side of his head hurt and touching it caused a spike in the throbbing headache. Plissken sat up examining his hand. Tiny red flakes of dried blood were all over his fingers. He felt hungry and still a bit groggy. More immediate he wondered what he was doing in an industrial laundry bin. Nothing was making sense. Maybe this was a dream where he dreamed about waking up? It seemed logical except for the all too real surroundings. Snake had to see his where he was.
Peering over the side Plissken saw several orderlies in orange uniforms. Around the room were banks of washers and dryers. Confused, Plissken settled back down into the bin he was in to think about what was going on. His head felt a little foggy but there wasn't enough fog to make this go away. After several minutes deducing the facts and piecing together what he knew Snake decided the best course of action was to assume this was real. What could it hurt if it was a dream and he went through the motions in his overactive mind? Nothing. If this was real though and he pretended it was a dream the costs could be death. Snake took one more gamble at looking over the room.
The orderlies were gone but a far door, like a restaurant would have swung freely. He was alone. Slowly he stood and tried to get out of the bin. Dizziness washed over him as soon as both feet were no longer planted on the ground. He struggled for balance as his body lurched foreward. There was no time to right himself. The ground came up fast and he managed to catch himself. Snake lay on the floor for a few moments to push off the spinning room. He had time to question why he was wearing a terry cloth robe but nothing except the hazy, surreal memories he thought were of the day before offered an explanation.
Snake crawled out of the over turned bin and sat against the side of an industrial dryer to reorient himself. He determined he needed out of where ever he was. His gut said it was bad and he went with it. His gut instinct had never been wrong. Plissken righted the spilled bin and piled all the towels into it. He left the robe there as well. The room was warm presumably for all the dryers. Snake moved along the bank of machines until he saw one that was spinning orange fabric. The motion through the glass front hypnotized him briefly before he opened the door. Orange cloth spilled out onto the floor at his feet. Most of them were completely dry. He rummaged through and found a full uniform. He pulled on the scrubs before shoving the spilled clothes back into the dryer. He turned it on again knowing that the best way to escape was to leave no trace of your presence. His hair he pulled back and tied off with a rubber band he found on the counter. It would make the disguise a little more effective at least from behind. Snake realized he still was without shoes but that couldn't be remedied at the moment.
He was faced with a decision. Several doors led from the laundry room. The question was which should he take. Another question caught his attention. What floor was this? Snake headed for a window and looked out. From his estimate he would say four or five. Jumping would not be an option if he was cornered. The view gave him an understanding of what he faced when he got out of the building. A guard shack was by a gated exit. The guards were dressed in heavy black with rifles. USPF. His stomach knotted and the urge to leave doubled, tripled, almost overwhelmed good sense. He'd been in worse situations. Surely this one wouldn't be that difficult.
Plissken took int he room and headed for a random door. He'd never be out of this place if he didn't get moving.
