First it was a closet, now it's an entire building... someone needs to give CS Lewis a talking to.
[Bay'verse Capt. Graham]
There are bad dreams. Everyone has those, and they've all seemed to range from the mundane - for example, Nan loses her teeth in the loo, and the plumber won't come for some strange reason, or can't, and all of a sudden the entire system backs up, and then you realize you're in trouble - to the absolutely extraordinary, like Nan losing her teeth because she's accidentally swallowed them, thereby causing all her skin to peel off, which in turn reveals alien bugs underneath her skin, and then suddenly Nan isn't Nan but an alien cyborg powered by the blood of virgins. And then your childhood friend from when you were a boy suddenly turns up to tell you that the school bus is here. Or something just as ridiculous.
With a quick scan of utterly unfamiliar territory, the SASF agent scrambled to his feet with a jerk, breath ragged, hand going straight to his sidearm as he assessed the nature of his current predicament. Rifle lost, beret lost, PLCE still in place - ammo, a couple of grenades, radio, the radio was not really working, not so good. He thumbed it rather uselessly, then let it be for the moment, squinting up at the sky, trying to gauge where he was, and what time it currently was. One last look around. None of his unit are here, none of their foes either. He blinks sweat out of his eyes, and turns away.
Some situations, though, fall into a category of their own. These are the ones that rather make you question if you weren't hooked up to some kind of, drug, through IV while you were sleeping, and then you find yourself going around your place, touching the bed, the dresser, just making sure that things are still as real as they should be. Or when something just absolutely extraordinary has happened, like Nan opening fire on the neighbour's dog, because it's too noisy - basically, it's shocking, and you find you need to do something, anything, just to make sure it's happening and you're not actually asleep, or dead, or seeing things.
The back of his head aches, bruises and scrapes throb and sting all over him, there's a sharp zing of pain that shoots up his thigh with every step he takes, and that is most definitely not a good sign. Besides the physical discomforts, he's hyperaware of the fact that one, this isn't where he was, some urban battlefield in the middle of a skirmish against Decepticons - Graham is pretty sure abandoned warehouses don't have entire forests and dirt grounds underneath their floors -
Or, you could just be in the exact same situation I'm in, right now, right this moment, wondering where the bloody fuck the rest of the world has just gone to.
There are bad dreams. Everyone has those, and they've all seemed to range from the mundane - for example, Nan loses her teeth in the loo, and the plumber won't come for some strange reason, or can't, and all of a sudden the entire system backs up, and then you realize you're in trouble - to the absolutely extraordinary, like Nan losing her teeth because she's accidentally swallowed them, thereby causing all her skin to peel off, which in turn reveals alien bugs underneath her skin, and then suddenly Nan isn't Nan but an alien cyborg powered by the blood of virgins. And then your childhood friend from when you were a boy suddenly turns up to tell you that the school bus is here. Or something just as ridiculous.
With a quick scan of utterly unfamiliar territory, the SASF agent scrambled to his feet with a jerk, breath ragged, hand going straight to his sidearm as he assessed the nature of his current predicament. Rifle lost, beret lost, PLCE still in place - ammo, a couple of grenades, radio, the radio was not really working, not so good. He thumbed it rather uselessly, then let it be for the moment, squinting up at the sky, trying to gauge where he was, and what time it currently was. One last look around. None of his unit are here, none of their foes either. He blinks sweat out of his eyes, and turns away.
Some situations, though, fall into a category of their own. These are the ones that rather make you question if you weren't hooked up to some kind of, drug, through IV while you were sleeping, and then you find yourself going around your place, touching the bed, the dresser, just making sure that things are still as real as they should be. Or when something just absolutely extraordinary has happened, like Nan opening fire on the neighbour's dog, because it's too noisy - basically, it's shocking, and you find you need to do something, anything, just to make sure it's happening and you're not actually asleep, or dead, or seeing things.
The back of his head aches, bruises and scrapes throb and sting all over him, there's a sharp zing of pain that shoots up his thigh with every step he takes, and that is most definitely not a good sign. Besides the physical discomforts, he's hyperaware of the fact that one, this isn't where he was, some urban battlefield in the middle of a skirmish against Decepticons - Graham is pretty sure abandoned warehouses don't have entire forests and dirt grounds underneath their floors -
Or, you could just be in the exact same situation I'm in, right now, right this moment, wondering where the bloody fuck the rest of the world has just gone to.