2011-12-31 08:44 pm

Damage

He has nightmares, now. He's trying to build a tower made of glass, and he knows that if he can just get it to the moon the world will be saved, but a thousand glass-eating machines crowd around the base and turn it all to sand, and he keeps having to make the sand back into glass and--

"AUGH WHAT!?"

He sat bolt upright and banged his head hard against the glass of the stasis pod in which he lay. This still didn't register with him. More important:

"Arctic!? Are you ok, where's Synth, what the hell is..."

He pressed his hands against the glass. That looked like... the medbay.

"Uh... wait, what? ..."

Oh right. A knife to the back.

"Hey, but how am I not dead?"

From out of the corner of his vision appeared a med tech, sighing.

"Sir, please lie back down. We haven't finished repairing the damage to your back..."

"The hell with that, I can fix it myself! Where are my squadmates?"

"... sir, please--!"

"I'm fine! Let me - ow."

... okay, so that wasn't healed yet. Whatever. "Let me out!"
2011-12-30 04:07 pm
Entry tags:

[log] Please Hello

He kept telling himself that look, hey, what? Did you expect Hunter life to be all glamor and epic battles from which you always emerged the victor? No, Comet, of course not, it was always going to be a lot of boring nothing most of the time, punctuated by slightly less boring and sprinkled with YES I HAVE DONE IT WE NOW HAVE A CANON THAT SHOOTS CUPCAKES wait maybe that wasn't the best idea.

It'd be better that way, after all. Less chance of becoming one of the casualties he used to see in the hospital.

But Reploids are fickle creatures and so even though Comet knew all of this logically, he was still slightly miffed that today's mission was a simple courier job. Simple, but extremely boring, especially since the package was heavy enough that they couldn't just fly back with it.

"They couldn't have given us a vehicle?" he groaned. It was his turn to carry the box, and while it was within his weight class, he couldn't fly. "This'd go much faster that way. Or, y'know, gotten one of the ground-based speedsters to do it?"

It was a nice day, at least. The package in question was a recovered batch of supplies from an old factory on the outskirts of the city. They'd gotten roped into it when Comet had overheard a superior officer talking, and he'd enthusiastically asked to see what it was, since after all one of his hobbies was ancient technology and he'd absolutely love to get his paws on--

And then the officer had interrupted him and informed him that if he was SO eager, he could go pick it up himself. Great.