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milliways_bar2004-10-21 02:11 am
sky-captain.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2004-10-21 02:11 am
My compass started spinning, and then...
Daily log entry
'H. Joseph Sullivan, you're a lucky pilot once again,' he says to himself as his highly-customised Warhawk breaks out of the heavy cloudbank to reveal a lake with a broad greensward around it. Just long enough for a hotstick landing and takeoff... maybe.
Looping around, he heads into what appears to be direction of the wind (What in the world is that dark area? An approaching storm?) and throttles down carefully, landing on the grass (Good, it's not swampy. More luck.) and rolling to a tidy distance near the the larger of the only two visible buildings, just to the edge of a paved area. Joe shuts down as the propellor stops spinning, slides back his canopy and stands.
'Might as well head inside, see if I can find out where I am,' Joe muses to himself. He jumps off the fuselage and walks towards two doors, counting eeny-meeny-miny-mo before picking the one to his right.
*knock, knock* 'Erm... hello?'
Joe Sullivan swings open the unsecured door and steps cautiously into a busy kitchen. He doesn't feel he's in any particular danger, though, despite the knives being wielded. Or, rather, washed. 'Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt. Is there someone who can tell me where I am? My navigational equipment went haywire and I thought I'd better land before that storm blows in.'
'H. Joseph Sullivan, you're a lucky pilot once again,' he says to himself as his highly-customised Warhawk breaks out of the heavy cloudbank to reveal a lake with a broad greensward around it. Just long enough for a hotstick landing and takeoff... maybe.
Looping around, he heads into what appears to be direction of the wind (What in the world is that dark area? An approaching storm?) and throttles down carefully, landing on the grass (Good, it's not swampy. More luck.) and rolling to a tidy distance near the the larger of the only two visible buildings, just to the edge of a paved area. Joe shuts down as the propellor stops spinning, slides back his canopy and stands.
'Might as well head inside, see if I can find out where I am,' Joe muses to himself. He jumps off the fuselage and walks towards two doors, counting eeny-meeny-miny-mo before picking the one to his right.
*knock, knock* 'Erm... hello?'
Joe Sullivan swings open the unsecured door and steps cautiously into a busy kitchen. He doesn't feel he's in any particular danger, though, despite the knives being wielded. Or, rather, washed. 'Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt. Is there someone who can tell me where I am? My navigational equipment went haywire and I thought I'd better land before that storm blows in.'
no subject