Sitting up proved a little painful, his back strained to offer him the muscle power without complaining of bruising, like he'd just been dropped where he lay after whatever 'had happened' had happened. He was still in the same red shirt he'd been in the previous time he'd been conscious and, looking down, he found it slightly flecked with a deeper shade of claret red; Blood. His brain was having a little trouble registering everything at present. He felt like he was on some kind of euphoric drug with how much he could see. Everything was crystal clear, colours were intense and patterns seemed suddenly far more noticeable. He whimpered when he finally concluded his shirt was bloody and achingly endeavoured to pull it up over his head, and off. Shivering in the cold he finally attempted to stand, reaching out like he no longer had the same kind of depth perception and spatial awareness and grabbing desperately at the consoles and wires to steady himself. He pulled himself up, unsteady on his feet, and took a hard shuddering breathe.
It was sore to look around, but he clocked his ever faithful console chair and pushed himself towards it, grabbing onto the arm and hauled himself into it, finally sitting somewhere he felt steady. He hadn't glanced to his screen yet, and nor did he want too. He was aware of how bright it was without looking at it, as it was more or less the soul source of light in the room. His office was always dank and dimly lit, he'd liked that, but now low light didn't seem to make any difference to his eye sight. About a minute later of just sitting there, trying to regulate his chaotic vision, he remembered he'd taken his shirt off. He'd never be caught dead by any clan member without a shirt, and sometimes they barged in here, so he made a move to scurry for the small basket of clothes he kept in his office. He didn't really leave here that often, so he kept a few personals tucked in corners. He yanked out a slightly stained yellow shirt and tugged that on over his now messy red hair, and finally turned his swivel chair to face his monitor.
Looking up at it was a whole new world of bizarre. He scanned across the screen of various CCTV feeds, and his new eyes responded. They opened the lenses like it was a natural reflex and suddenly he could see more than just a few at once, he was taking in the entire screen of feeds at once. Every time new people walked into view on the screen they were highlighted in a blue square, bringing them to his attention. He couldn't bring himself to look away, jaw slowly dropping in what he was capable of seeing. If he'd had a mirror he'd have been grabbing for it right now, trying to see what exactly were now situated into his eye sockets but whatever they were, they were still eyes and they were capable of so much more. He wouldn't say they were preferable yet, he wouldn't say he liked them because at the end of it all, he'd still just undergone a very nasty eye gouging and passed out to get them. He was still in shock, although given a few hours that might wear off once he's over the workings of his new eyes.
He felt a little dizzy again, and he looked away from the screen and held his head, only then realizing he had a throbbing headache. After the assult his blood sugar levels must be chronically low, his skin colour wasn't just its usual red headed shade of pale, it was grey and clammy from the shock he was still suffering the dregs of. He still had creds this week, perhaps a trip the medical centre for nutrients was wise. He could eat, but actually buying nutrients was cheaper than buying the food you needed to get them. Artificial intake was easier than good clean food in a world like this, where farms did not exist. It was all concrete, all run down in most parts, so most everything you could get was either fake, recycled food (Good for the environment and OK for you, apparently), or bad for you. If you were poor, and he sure as hell wasn't rolling in it right now, then you learnt to do without the good stuff, you just got by.
He had no idea how he was going to make it with this vision. What on earth the outside of this room would look like this these additions. You'd think maybe he'd protest, knowing who had done what to him but any living man with a brain did not even question let alone protest to their clan leaders actions. He could see, so he'd just avoid her as long as he could and try and cope. It would do nothing for his already unstable and nervous disposition to being around people, but this was how it was. Best not to argue what couldn't be changed now. Oh no, just live with it, Alex. He shakily got up, trying to stabilize himself on his feet for a moment, his balance thrown off by his new vision, not to mention his pale inducing lack of sugar. He felt sick now he was standing, but his body quickly gained its sense of up and down, and he was able to let go of the console and take a few steps. Okay, good…Now he just had to make it to the elevator, and down to the medward level. He quickly checked his pockets which, thankfully, still had his cred-card in it and made his way to the door.
The trip down to level 35 was…quiet, very few people between his door and nearest elevator. All of the thug gang members were probably holed up in their respective rooms indulging in various drugs, including SloMo. He'd never done Slomo himself, and never felt inclined too; waste of creds on nothing but a dangerous high. Maybe thugs liked to risk their lives for a cheap thrill, but he didn't. What he liked was survival, and enough food. Peace and quiet like he'd once had. He was scraping by to survive now, but that was life when you had no one else. He kept his head down and his hair forward into his face, trying to keep his eyes down on the floor. He had no idea what he must look like but having your eyes gouged out and replaced probably wasn't pretty. The elevator was a short lived enclosed comfort, liking the boxed in feeling before he had to endure the open again, shuffling into the medical centre and down to its pharmacy, avoiding eye contact as he ordered his vitamin boosts. He got an odd look, but nothing more, and kept himself hunched and closed in. Not many other people in the med centre today, but he still didn't want people gwarping at his eyes considering how red and sore they must be.
He stopped by a street vendor for a tub of noodles, because they were cheap and he'd already had his intake, so he could afford to gobble a little junk food. Junk food was cheap and on mass in this "new" world, it was fast and convenient, perfect for a hungry, over-crowded and demanding occupant. All he wanted was something to stop his stomach complaining, and there was probably a fair amount of sugar in this mockery of oriental food. He needed sugar. He'd scoffed his little box of it by the time he was back in the elevator, headed back to his semi safe little box up the top level. The ride up felt a little better, and he was adjusting to the new vision now. He could walk in a straight line and that was enough.
He stepped out into the dimly light corridor that he had to walk down and take a few turns to get to his destination. He could hear the throbbing of music from a specific room he knew belonged to members of his clan. It was marked on the door with a little heart under the handle; room number 7,999. He hated passing any room he knew might have occupants that would recognise him, so he stuffed his hands into his cut offs and attempted as quick a pace past that door as he could. He had plans to rest when he was back, rest and then maybe see what he could do about getting back to work, try not to cry over everything he'd just endured in what he wasn't even sure was the last 24 hours. How long as he been out after he'd fainted? Could be hours, could be days, he wasn't sure yet. The blood on his red shirt had been very dry, so it had been a fair while before he'd regained consciousness. It was while he was wondering on this thought, walking fast, that room 7,999's door opened…
"Hey, Techie boy…"
Oh no, come on. He'd had enough recently, but he knew better than to completely ignore one of the boys. If they were going to taunt him over something, maybe his eyes or maybe just another 'broom closet' comment then he might as well get it over with. They'd left him alone for a while and he'd thought he'd finally done his time, but apparently not. He stopped abruptly to the name call 'techie boy' and swallowed, closing his sore eyes and bracing himself before turning back to him, hair still partially in his face to try and cover what he didn't yet know were alarming-looking eyes. He then offered a forced up smile that took all his effort to maintain.
"Can I help you?"
