Ep 1.-Another Day's Work-Open
Oct 4, 2012 14:47:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2012 14:47:02 GMT -5
Air Raid blinked as he digested that.
From the looks of things, it wasn't the only thing being digested. Already there were signs that the sedative was beginning to swiftly overcome the flier as it was rushed through his lines by a starving fuel system. Apparently energon wasn't the only thing being processed rapidly.
Air Raid sat up straight and swung his legs around until he sat hunched on the edge of the berth, the energon cube held in a shaky hand. He blinked again, his head cocked as he looked about himself owlishly. Once angled upwards, his wings now drooped halfway down his back. He drained back the last of the cube, coughed, and crushed it against his forehead. Then gave the squashed cube in his hand a look of squinty-eyed puzzlement as if to say, 'whoa, how did that happen.'
"Awesome," he said, when medic passed him a another cube. He dropped the first and resisted the urge to immediately throw the second serving of energon back. Greedy systems begged for energy, from oil to electrical, thrusters and hydraulics and avionics all clamouring insistently for sustenance. "Thanks, doc."
Sipped it. Stared a bit into space.
"I took all kinds of damage during the Exodus, so maybe that's it," he said agreeably, having finally mulled through Ratchet's diagnosis. "Lots of it. All of the damage. The medics in Dead End did their best, but, uhh. Field camps. You know what those are like. Field camps. Crazy things. But I'm here on Earth now, and you're here on Earth now, and you've got all this- cool stuff. So it's all good now. Woo!"
He jumped to his feet, one fist thrust in the air. Then his expression changed to one of mild concern as he swayed on his feet. "Whoa, doc. I'm swayin'."
From the looks of things, it wasn't the only thing being digested. Already there were signs that the sedative was beginning to swiftly overcome the flier as it was rushed through his lines by a starving fuel system. Apparently energon wasn't the only thing being processed rapidly.
Air Raid sat up straight and swung his legs around until he sat hunched on the edge of the berth, the energon cube held in a shaky hand. He blinked again, his head cocked as he looked about himself owlishly. Once angled upwards, his wings now drooped halfway down his back. He drained back the last of the cube, coughed, and crushed it against his forehead. Then gave the squashed cube in his hand a look of squinty-eyed puzzlement as if to say, 'whoa, how did that happen.'
"Awesome," he said, when medic passed him a another cube. He dropped the first and resisted the urge to immediately throw the second serving of energon back. Greedy systems begged for energy, from oil to electrical, thrusters and hydraulics and avionics all clamouring insistently for sustenance. "Thanks, doc."
Sipped it. Stared a bit into space.
"I took all kinds of damage during the Exodus, so maybe that's it," he said agreeably, having finally mulled through Ratchet's diagnosis. "Lots of it. All of the damage. The medics in Dead End did their best, but, uhh. Field camps. You know what those are like. Field camps. Crazy things. But I'm here on Earth now, and you're here on Earth now, and you've got all this- cool stuff. So it's all good now. Woo!"
He jumped to his feet, one fist thrust in the air. Then his expression changed to one of mild concern as he swayed on his feet. "Whoa, doc. I'm swayin'."