This is a new idea, let me know what you think about it.
The air was cold upon his skin, but at the same time it felt like it was numb. It was as though there was something between him and the air, even though he knew that to be false. His head hurt, a pounding from behind his eyes that traveled down to his toes. It drove him mad, but he couldn't open his eyes either. His tongue was dry, his mouth and throat feeling like steel wires and razors in a massive pile. He wanted to scream out to the doctors, but he knew somehow that they were no longer there.
He reached around himself as best as he could, trying to feel for something, anything really. Every time he thought he had lifted his arm, he was brought crashing down when he felt nothing when he let it go. Was he paralyzed? Was it permanent? He had no way of knowing for sure what was going on, ready to give up hope on everything, until he felt it.
His toe twitched, slowly at first, he regained some control of his body. He moved his foot and felt the sensation of pins and needles that came from poor circulation and lack of movement. The air smelled of...copper? Yes, it was copper and what smelled like brimstone. He wanted so desperately to open his eyes and see what lay beyond. He wanted to thank the doctors, for he was out of his enviro suit and stable. He felt fine and he knew that the cure had worked.
His arm came across his chest and he reached up to his eyes, trying to brush whatever may be keeping his eyes closed away from him. His skin was numb, but he heard what sounded like scraping metal plates and bone. It was odd, he never heard that before, but then again he had never been out of his suit since for more than a few minutes since birth.
His fingers were over-sensitive and he could feel every crack and line on his face. It felt rough and worn, like an old piece of armor plate that had been left on Tuchanka to rot for the better part of a century, then cleaned off. His face had never felt like that before, it had been smooth with light facial hair...
His breath rushed out of his nose faster and his heart raced as he scratched at his eyes and tried desperately to clear any debris. He peeled off something that felt like a scab, his eyes bursting open. The room was dim, lights flashing and flickering in the distance. The once bright white ceiling was now grey and black with what looked to be soot. He moved his head to tilt to the left, the wall of what had once been incubation tanks and coolant fluids had all been busted open, the fluid most likely on the floor. He tried to move his head to the right, the pain almost too great to manage.
The security lights on the right wall were flashing, but the siren was no longer going off. It was a warning light, not an emergency siren. They must have lost power and an energy surge fried and burst the tanks in the room, requiring backup power to kick in and take over the life support. With any chance, the ship was still operable and they were heading to a space dock.
He leaned up, his eyes scanning his legs and chest as he did. He was clad only in a pair of black spandex shorts. His skin was an Ashen shade of Grey. It brought the thought up again, Turian. His legs were longer even, not as much of a bend in them. He sat up and slung them to the side, turning to face the flashing lights. He ran a hand through his short hair, now longer than he remembered. His face was rough, with what he guessed was hair along his jaw.
His jaw was sharper than he remembered, it was rough and hard too, no skin to move around. It was like plates had grown in place of what he had known his face to be. He yawned, feeling the muscles flex in his face and stretch...but something not there before stretched. On the sides of his face, he felt the plates lift and stretch out as well when he yawned. He felt his face, shock filling his mind. He had mandibles, just like a Turian would. His lips were gone, replaced by plates That closed over his mouth when he brought his jaw back to rest. His nose felt the same, just rough. His arms and legs looked rough, but not plated like his face was. What had happened to him?
"He...Heee...Hello?" His voice was rough and cracked. It was deep and grainy, like it was coming from a rotting speaker cone or a horn. He tried to make saliva, but it was slow going. He decided to stand up, no use just sitting around.
He slid off the high table, his feet hitting the ground, all three toes first then the bottom of his foot. His legs shook a little, but then he stood tall and straight without any further problems. He felt awkward standing up so tall. He was certain that he had been shorter before he went under. The last thing he remembered was that the doctors said he would be under for an hour, then he would have to be monitored. He had been under for far longer than they had told him he would be
He stumbled over to the door, nothing more than a rectangular piece of metal that moved to the side. The door itself must have broken down midway through the opening sequence since it was jammed half open. He squeezed through it, grabbing the door and pushing it slightly to allow the passage of his body through the doorway.
The hallways was just as empty as the room, but the right side was long bay windows that gave a view of many stars and the left side of the hall was lined with doors similar to his, some open and some closed. The lights in the hall were flickering or broken, panels from the ceiling were hanging down with cables and wires that sparked when they made contact with the wrong charge. He was curious as to what had happened here, a bad feeling sinking in.
He needed to find some clothes and a weapon, then he could figure out what was going on here. He couldn't go to the right because a large pile of cargo containers were overturned and jammed together. He would have to go to the right, towards what must have been the front of the ship. From what he could remember, the ship was slated to dock with the Citadel, but the stars were wrong. He couldn't recognize them or the patterns.
The hall was dark and the ground was littered with burnt scraps and trash, but still he had seen no one. The ship and been full to the brim with medical staff and crew. They had been human, sure, but they were very friendly and professional. Now, they're suddenly all gone? The ship looked as though it had been decimated in some kind of fight, but no bodies were anywhere. Who had awoken him?
" Keelah, if mother could see you now Lok. Lost on a human ship with no enviro suit or weapon. She would have a heart attack." He spoke to himself, ambling down the corridor and wondering what had happened. He stopped at the armory. It's thick steel doors had been blasted open, but otherwise there was no damage anywhere. The entire armory was full, not a thing missing aside from the sergeant.
"What the hell is going on here? No people, but an armory full of weapons and armor? I'm not liking this at all..." The room was square, with cabinets and lockers lining all the walls. Everything in here was from before the attack on the Citadel. He looked through each locker until he finally found his. He opened the locker, his suit was black, the cloth wraps were a deep blue with red highlights. He slide the suit on, the suit stretching and sealing around his legs. Each arm slid in its sleeve, the suite sealing to the neck. His omni-tool activated, telling him he had twelve messages waiting form him. He pulled his helmet on, the neck seals clamping on and sealing in place. The glass was red in tint, allowing his bio-luminescent eyes to shine through.
He stretched his arms out, the suit a bit tight, but in a comforting way. He was always calm, his reason for not freaking out of the fact he had mandibles and bone plates on his face. He could figure out what had happened once he had found a way out of his current situation. Maybe, he could pilot this ship. He would have to make it to the Cockpit, maybe he could even figure out why no help had arrived...