Workshop Fic - My Turn
Team RossTwilliNute
Character: Sam "Cannonball" Guthrie
Scene: From the Dark Phoenix Saga, Logan being dropped into the sewers and doing the "Now it's *my* turn..." defiant stand.
A beautiful autumn day, with a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at, punctuated by clouds that could have been made of the whitest cotton. Under any other circumstances, Sam Guthrie would happily have been out at his favorite fishing hole or down on the patio at Harry's. Today, instead, he was sailing out of control in a ballistic arc away from the destructive fracas raging through Times Square.
His blast field had withstood the impact, but the laws of physics were working against him, in that he had been hit with so much force that he couldn't just flip around and reverse his flight, not without tearing himself to shreds from the g-forces. So here he was, soaring through the beautiful September sky.
They'd come without warning, hitting New York like an atomic bomb. The whole team, such as it was with half of them already on that mission in Russia, had gone in hard, and met with equal force. The unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. When Rogue had gone down, Sam had launched himself at full speed. The net result being his current trajectory.
~Where exactly did it go wrong?~ Sam pondered to himself. It was rather easy to pinpoint, in retrospect. They'd underestimated their opponents. It was easy to do against a group calling themselves the Evil League of Evil, he supposed. He'd gone sailing directly for the being that appeared to be their leader. He remembered being startled at a horse leading a group of villains, and then Bad Horse had let forth his terrible death whinny before wheeling to kick Sam out over the horizon.
There was that quick moment of weightlessness that signaled the apex of a flight, and Sam knew his altitude was dropping. Which meant, of course, that he'd be moving faster when he landed. He probably wouldn't die, he thought. He vaguely remembered someone saying something once that maybe he *couldn't* die, but had dismissed it as a concept too stupid to even remember.
Below him the ocean turned to land, and he turned to barely miss a large spire rising from the ground. The CN something something, he remembered. Hey, maybe Alpha Flight could help them out against the Evil League of Evil, he thought. But then again, Alpha Flight was the only superhero team that wouldn't work on civic holidays.
He left a furrow the length of Nathan Phillips Square, scattering concrete blocks and tourists. The angle with which he hit meant he travelled downwards, destroying infrastructure as he went. He plunged through a subway tunnel, hearing the screech of brakes against rails as the train hit the emergency stop. Only his blast field protected him as he carved a trail of destruction in his wake.
He finally slid to a halt in Queen Station, shaking his head as he sat up. He clambered onto the platform, where a crowd of curious Toronto natives stared quizzically at him. He leaned down to brush dust and debris off his uniform, and as he stood up, he grinned tightly. "Now it's *my* turn..."
Character: Sam "Cannonball" Guthrie
Scene: From the Dark Phoenix Saga, Logan being dropped into the sewers and doing the "Now it's *my* turn..." defiant stand.
A beautiful autumn day, with a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at, punctuated by clouds that could have been made of the whitest cotton. Under any other circumstances, Sam Guthrie would happily have been out at his favorite fishing hole or down on the patio at Harry's. Today, instead, he was sailing out of control in a ballistic arc away from the destructive fracas raging through Times Square.
His blast field had withstood the impact, but the laws of physics were working against him, in that he had been hit with so much force that he couldn't just flip around and reverse his flight, not without tearing himself to shreds from the g-forces. So here he was, soaring through the beautiful September sky.
They'd come without warning, hitting New York like an atomic bomb. The whole team, such as it was with half of them already on that mission in Russia, had gone in hard, and met with equal force. The unstoppable force meeting the immovable object. When Rogue had gone down, Sam had launched himself at full speed. The net result being his current trajectory.
~Where exactly did it go wrong?~ Sam pondered to himself. It was rather easy to pinpoint, in retrospect. They'd underestimated their opponents. It was easy to do against a group calling themselves the Evil League of Evil, he supposed. He'd gone sailing directly for the being that appeared to be their leader. He remembered being startled at a horse leading a group of villains, and then Bad Horse had let forth his terrible death whinny before wheeling to kick Sam out over the horizon.
There was that quick moment of weightlessness that signaled the apex of a flight, and Sam knew his altitude was dropping. Which meant, of course, that he'd be moving faster when he landed. He probably wouldn't die, he thought. He vaguely remembered someone saying something once that maybe he *couldn't* die, but had dismissed it as a concept too stupid to even remember.
Below him the ocean turned to land, and he turned to barely miss a large spire rising from the ground. The CN something something, he remembered. Hey, maybe Alpha Flight could help them out against the Evil League of Evil, he thought. But then again, Alpha Flight was the only superhero team that wouldn't work on civic holidays.
He left a furrow the length of Nathan Phillips Square, scattering concrete blocks and tourists. The angle with which he hit meant he travelled downwards, destroying infrastructure as he went. He plunged through a subway tunnel, hearing the screech of brakes against rails as the train hit the emergency stop. Only his blast field protected him as he carved a trail of destruction in his wake.
He finally slid to a halt in Queen Station, shaking his head as he sat up. He clambered onto the platform, where a crowd of curious Toronto natives stared quizzically at him. He leaned down to brush dust and debris off his uniform, and as he stood up, he grinned tightly. "Now it's *my* turn..."