[ See, it's that whole 'opening your eyes' thing that gets him. One moment, he's drowsing, half awake, and the next second there are giant beams of ruby-colored light blasting out of the window of his hospital room before he shoves his eyes closed and does his best to remember the most important thing: breathing.
The memory of what those things are, of what he is, comes a moment later, a big red blaring stop sign that has him reaching out to his bed side to look for, dammit, where are they, are you fricking kidding me, it should be- YES. There they are. The glasses get shoved on his face about the same time as someone comes careening into the room to see what's happened. ]
...uh, sorry?
two: home again
[ ...this is some full scale, 100%, no doubt, epic level bullshit is what this is. At least, that's what Scott is thinking as he walks down 'Main Street' heading for the sheriff's department. Apparently, his backpack is there with some of his stuff and he has to go there and get it (even if you'd THINK they'd bring the stuff for him, considering he'd been in an accident and all). That would be bad enough, except that he doesn't remember half of the stuff they'd told him at the hospital.
Like that he's EVER LIVED HERE. Nothing is familiar. Nothing. And there's no arcade? Well, he sees a movie theatre, so all is not lost, but none of the titles look familiar to him. It's weird. And while he knows he has a foster parent (because kids don't generally live on their own), the name 'Pepper Potts' had brought up exactly nothing in his mind.
Which was great. He's got force beams in his head but no useful information. Fricking. Great.
So if you see the pissed off looking kid in the Ray Charles specs making his way down the road, well... good luck. ]t
three: bake sale
[ He still doesn't remember much, but for some reason, the whole near miss for detention feels entirely too normal for him. This time, the near miss comes in the form of 'volunteering' for the PTA bake sale, so he's here, helping shell out brownies for-
Okay, he feels a little bad about the window, so maybe he's a little more helpful about working once he hears that it's to benefit the hospital. ]
Scott Summers | Various Dates and Locations | Open
The memory of what those things are, of what he is, comes a moment later, a big red blaring stop sign that has him reaching out to his bed side to look for, dammit, where are they, are you fricking kidding me, it should be- YES. There they are. The glasses get shoved on his face about the same time as someone comes careening into the room to see what's happened. ]
...uh, sorry?
Like that he's EVER LIVED HERE. Nothing is familiar. Nothing. And there's no arcade? Well, he sees a movie theatre, so all is not lost, but none of the titles look familiar to him. It's weird. And while he knows he has a foster parent (because kids don't generally live on their own), the name 'Pepper Potts' had brought up exactly nothing in his mind.
Which was great. He's got force beams in his head but no useful information. Fricking. Great.
So if you see the pissed off looking kid in the Ray Charles specs making his way down the road, well... good luck. ]t
Okay, he feels a little bad about the window, so maybe he's a little more helpful about working once he hears that it's to benefit the hospital. ]