Eyes creaking open ever so slowly so as to not go blind at the overwhelmingly bright light from above him, Shir'at'uk grumbled a quiet tone and brought his right hand to his head—he felt he had gained a few fractures, possibly, but from what, he did not yet know-
Eyes creaking open ever so slowly so as to not go blind at the overwhelmingly bright light from above him, Shir'at'uk grumbled a quiet tone and brought his right hand to his head—he felt he had gained a few fractures, possibly, but from what, he did not yet know-
And then, in a stroke of luck, or possibly, in his case, bad luck, his mind came to recollect the first thing he remembered.
Battle.
Stumble; New Earth.
Lights.
Darkness…
Frowning because he did not remember the rest, Shir'at' uk sat up suddenly. An abrupt wave of dizziness struck him just as fast, and he fell back onto the pavement—
Pavement.
That was the New Earth he had experienced. …But how had he managed to follow from darkness to being on his back, he did not know. Suddenly (using his acute hearing) he heard something from a ways off…something of fast-paced steps approaching. Knowing that how he got to where he was was not as important as surviving where he was, Shir'at' uk slowly came to his feet, though wincing at a few horrid streaks of pain that surged through his well-muscled body. He sighed at how weak he had suddenly become and noticed his throat had gone dry—not from fear, but from dehydration. He did not know how long he had been out, but knew that his limit was only nine days, which was equivalent to thirteen Earth days. Their lucky number, he mused grimly, is our lucky number.
Sgt. Swason headed casually from his cluttered office to the infamous cafeteria. Swason had always come to find luck when he needed it when he was in the small room, and right now, he needed it badly. It had been over a week since the idea that a humanoid-extraterrestrial was loose in New York had been in the threshold of a government base, and they had yet to find their desired specimen. No record or interaction had been proved or heard of, no trace of any such a being even being on Earth existed—yet.
The sergeant passed by a few of his employees and acknowledged their presence with a small, light nod and he stepped into the open-door cafeteria. It was better-known as a lounge to other workers, but to him, it would always be his lucky spot, his place to find luck or serenity… It was here he had been given news they had finally found a cure to some cancers, here he had been told his wife wanted a divorce (she was such a blood-hungered bitch, he recalled with little to no interest in the matter).
Of course, it helped having a base underground a place such as New York itself if that's where the monster was thought to be. Sitting himself down on a mahogany-red couch at the back end of the lounge, he saw Stanley pass by the window, and then back to Swason's direction, and into the lounge.
"Sir," Staney began, questioning as to whether he should go on. Swason nodded, eagerness swelling in his eyes—this was what he had been waiting for. Stanley took a small swig from his mug and said, "We need a refill on coffee."
FPM:…I'm so SORRY I haven't updated in such a while—1) I've had just zip an zilch time to write this, and 2) I've had the worst block…well, it's not so much 2 as 1. (-shrug-) it works, though—I got another chap up, didn't i:)