beforeblue: (Head Bowed)
Agent Washington ([personal profile] beforeblue) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2016-03-21 12:24 am


Who: Agent Washington and You!
Where: Around Wonderland
When: Mid-March-ish
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: The depressing life of Agent Washington
The Story:

Running outside is something that Wash has missed in the Project. The training space on the Mother of Invention just wasn't the same. It was too even, too flat, and the recycled air didn't have the cold tang of the pre and just-post dawn. It's one of the perks of Wonderland Wash thinks, as much as the place has perks when they're getting put through extended psychological experimentation.

He jogs a wide circle around the mansion and then heads out through the gardens and down to the beach, trying to cover as much different terrain as he can. It's quiet at this time of the morning, but late enough that he can pretend that he just gets up early instead of not actually sleeping.

It is not an uncommon sight to see Wash in the gym or the training room at any hour of day or night, practising both in full armour and without. The daytime hours are more likely to find him enthusiastic and friendly. But as the hours draw on, and it gets later and he still can't face sleeping, the punches become a little more vicious, the shooting more intent, obsessively so.

When he's not training, wearing himself to the bone until he's exhausted enough to sleep, he heads out to the bar or to the roof of the mansion on a night. Tries not to drink too much because that is a path he doesn't want to go down. Seen too many people lose themselves in that. But sometimes it makes things easier. Helps him to relax enough to sleep, even if just for a couple of hours.
rosswood: (your editing lacks continuity)


[personal profile] rosswood 2016-03-30 06:19 am (UTC)(link)
Alex doesn't even pretend that he sleeps, because he's lucky to get in eight hours by the end of each week. A dark line of tally marks runs up the length of one inner arm. He's been keeping track of the days here, his own personal calendar.

He's been walking along the edge of the beach since before the sun rose, camera out, his movements zombielike and mechanical since every instinct is screaming at him to get some goddamn sleep. By the time faint fingers of sunlight start crinkling the horizon, he's sitting against a big smooth rock, camera lying beside him. The sky's still a muddy predawn gray. No one else should be up.

But he hears the crunch of semi-rapid footsteps, and it puts him on the alert at once. Alex scrambles to his feet. The camera swings up to film whoever might be approaching. Old habits die hard, after all.
rosswood: if you don't have friends (how to make a movie)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-04 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Whatever Alex was expecting, it sure as shit wasn't that. He's taken off guard at once and lands flat on his ass, the camera going flying from his hand to bounce and roll uselessly across the sand. He tries to force himself upright, but the slips and slides underfoot.

Every instinct shrieks that he's about to get a heavy blow dealt to the face so he scrambles to seize a handful of sand and fling it blindly at his attacker, with limited success.
rosswood: (what'd you shoot this with a potato)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-04 10:33 pm (UTC)(link)
He gets himself up on one elbow, braced for another hit. When it doesn't come, he slits one eye open to stare at his attacker, only to realize that he's stopped in his tracks - pretty much the opposite of hostile.

Alex lies there, wide-eyed, panting, trying vainly to marshal his thoughts into something coherent.

All he comes up with is:

"What the hell, man?"
rosswood: (what'd you shoot this with a potato)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-04 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
"You what?" He watches the other guy look at the camera like it's some newfangled invention. He'd ask if he's from one of those weird-ass pre-industrial age worlds, but if he knows what a gun is then he probably knows what a camera is, right?

He flings out an open hand wildly to gesture at it, his tone climbing with disbelief. "It's a fucking camera."
rosswood: (your editing lacks continuity)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
Alex finally manages to right himself fully, still glaring at Wash like he isn't quite sure what to think of him.

"It's analog, dipshit." He snatches it out of the other man's hands without giving a single fuck about personal space. "I like shooting using tapes. There's a whole better feel to it - and you probably don't care at all, huh?"

Yeah. He looks him up and down. Looks like a bit of a bro. He jogs, apparently, which is telling in and of itself.
rosswood: (what'd you shoot this with a potato)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 01:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Wow," Alex says flatly. "So you're from some fancy future world and you're so much better than everyone else." He rolls his eyes, openly disparaging.

"It's harmless." He shakes the camera emphatically. "See?"
rosswood: (there's razors in your apple)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
"So, what, you're some kinda soldier? Place is just crawling with you military types, isn't it?"

Why yes, he is lumping anyone with a vaguely militarian background into a single homogeneous group.
rosswood: (it's so david lynchian)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 02:04 am (UTC)(link)
"Never heard of it." Guess that makes sense, if he's from some future-world. "I dunno. No one else would think a camera is actually a gun."

Yeah, he pretty obviously thinks that was pretty fucking stupid, despite being just as paranoid, if not more so. He's a raging hypocrite, so what?
rosswood: (what'd you shoot this with a potato)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Uh. Yeah there is." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Someone has their car here. That Sam dude?"

He almost exclusively knows him as the guy who has a car, which summarizes Alex's priorities pretty nicely.
rosswood: (your editing lacks continuity)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 02:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Maybe for the best," Alex says dryly. He starts inspecting his camera, trying to clear as much sand out of the thing as he can. He can always just get a new one from the closets, but he doesn't like putting good equipment to waste. His mouth twists in distaste. It's gonna take hours to get all this shit out of it.

"'M Alex," he grunts. Get introductions squared away.
rosswood: (what'd you shoot this with a potato)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
"Like, as in George?" That gets a skeptical eyebrow-raise. "No relation, or...?"

What the hell, it's the future. And he's an Agent too, oooo~.
rosswood: (a what a fucke)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
"Your team got named after states from a planet you've never been to." The sarcasm is just dripping off this one. "Yeah. That. That makes sense."
rosswood: (all they'd find would be teeth)

[personal profile] rosswood 2016-04-05 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh yeah." Whatever. He's not from the future, so he can't really complain. "Do you have a real name or anything, so people don't think I'm on last-name terms with the first President of the U.S.?"

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