Where was he?
Knives blinked a few times and gradually the whiteness faded into a dim gray. He was in shadow. There seemed to be sunlight coming from above but it was hard to make out. Everything was hazy, as if he was staring through a fog.
He reached forward. A hand! He had hands! And arms! A body!
He laughed, but found that he couldn't. His lungs still weren't working. Neither were his ears, apparently. He was still in a world of silence.
Where the hell was he?
His hand met a smooth, unyielding surface. Glass? Was he in a bulb? That would explain the lungs. And the silence. He made a blade from his arm and punched the glass as hard has he could. He silently cried out in pain when his bare fist hit the solid barrier. There was no blade.
What the hell?
He tried to form a blade again, this time watching his arm closely, but nothing happened. He tried desperately to form the angel arm but nothing happened. It was gone. All his energy and power were gone. He was trapped. Again.
He kicked at the glass but he just sent himself floating backward. He needed leverage. At the top of the bulb was the metal mechanism that hooked up to the angels, routing their energy into a series of cables. If he could push against that, maybe he could hit with enough force to break through.
He swam up and crouched against the metal surface, then kicked off it, propelling himself into the glass. Nothing happened. It was useless. Fuck.
What to do…?
The humans could enter the bulbs, so there must be a doorway somewhere. He'd been unconscious when Dr. Conrad had put him in the bulb after July, but he guessed it was near the top. He was a little angry with himself for not bothering to find out, but it had never seemed important.
He groped blindly at the metal surface that capped the great glass sphere. After several minutes his hands came into contact with a circular object that he hoped was a lever. He fumbled with it for a moment before turning it slowly. A deep mechanical groan echoed through the liquid surrounding him. Knives bore down on the lever again and suddenly the hatch sprang open. Liquid began flowing out of the bulb, spilling onto a metal platform outside along with a disoriented Knives. He landed hard as the slimy fluid continued to wash over him. Eventually it slowed, giving him a chance to sit up and look around.
He was in the husk of a power chamber of one of the crashed ships. He must've ended up in an unused bulb. What the fuck had happened to him? There were rows of shattered glass spheres all around him, reaching up towards the sky.
Wait. He knew this place.
This was Delnashville! The first city he'd taken when he'd started his endeavor to rescue the angels. A cool breeze blew through the open hull, causing him to shiver. He looked down to find himself completely naked.
That would need to be remedied.
He began wandering down the narrow walkway to the ground floor. Delnashville. Elendira had kept him updated on global news during his campaign. The cities he passed through had crumbled quickly without his sisters supporting them. There had been stories of rioting, thieving and cannibalism. Eventually, those who remained had simply died of dehydration. He wondered if the same fate awaited him.
He walked out into the morning sunlight, looking slowly over the surrounding area. The small city lay sprawled before him, stretching forward into the desert. The faint smell of decay perfumed the air. Even here at the power facility, there were a handful of corpses withering under the twin suns. They had been reduced to little more than bones with a thin layer of leathery flesh still clinging to them. He must not have been gone for too long or these bones would have been stripped clean by the sand and heat.
He began making his way slowly into the city, breathing as lightly as he could. If he wanted a chance at surviving he'd had to find some clothes and supplies.