Jake awoke, trembling with fear over the nightmare that had just been haunting his dreams. His head was hurting and his vision was slightly blurred. he rubbed the sand out of his eyes as he came crashing back up to reality and back into the old army bunker he called home. The guy in the bunk above him asked him if he was alright, apparently he had been screaming. " I'm alright," he said in reply. He was not ready to go back to sleep at all, the images of that horrible dream still twisting painfully in his memory like a cobra touched by a cattle prod.
He decided to get out of his bunk for a while, catch a breather after what his mind had just forced him to witness. So he pulled aside the green uniform colored blanket which was altogether way too thin for comfort, to reveal pastel green and white striped nightclothes draped loosely over a rugged pair of blue jeans, a tight fitting dirty white American tank top. He grabbed his loose paralyzed legs and flung them into a practiced routine of scooting into his shallow yellow wheelchair.
He rolled himself sleepily out of automatic combine door and into the crushed yellow lawn where the bunker was dropped. It had been three weeks since the operation was started and his post fixed. Before this he had been drifting through departments with no real intent of staying. He had been pushed from mission to mission without being given enough time or resources to finish any. He supposed it was his disability that made things the way they were. He did not blame his legs, or even the accident that caused them to be the way they were, for his unfortunate troubles. He just saw them as another screwed up part of his body, his brain being the other one.
But now he had a mission that would last him until it was finished. He had been recruited to the SfL049 team and sent to look out for lost blades and things like that. He really didn't like the work, or the other people all too much, but at least he had a goal to achive, at least it was better than being pulled out of a job last minute and have to start all over again on something completely different.
He thought for a moment about his home planet, earth, and the bustling metropolis that had engulfed the entire atmosphere spreading toxic chemicals left and right. He thought about the reason he came to Pandora, and the fascination he once had with Bayblades. He thought about the interest in discovering new and exciting blades like the men on the televisions all over the city. If only he had that kind of enthusiasm now. But no, he lost all that when he lost his legs. Now he was a jaded cripple who's brain played cruel jokes on him while he slept.
He heaved a huge exhausted sigh as he wheeled around back towards the bunker. But before he could go back inside, he heard a dry rustling in the bushes behind him. He turned his head to see what it was, at least he tried, he couldn't turn around all the way in his wheelchair.