“…hey! Kid! You okay? Oh, good, he’s coming round.”
“Wha…?” Larson blinked, then groaned. His head felt like he’d been beaten with a fucking rock.
And then caber thrown or something. Also why was everything upside down…?
Oh he was upside down. That explained a lot.
“The, uh, self destruct jostled us a little. Nothing broken kid?” The graying SL pulled him to his rather
unsteady feet, and he staggered into the wall almost immediately. Brushing off a concerned hand,
he carefully leaned against the wall, walking towards the un…damaged seats? What?
“No… Just my pride. What the fuck happened?” Light brown eyes took a moment to focus
as he sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
“A xenomorph got in here. Good news, we shot it. Bad news, you took
a GL buckshot round in the back.” Ellis shot a Look over her shoulder at someone.
“Alright that’s… How did I get tossed out of my harness?” The marine gave what was a
now very ruined hunk of metal a dubious glance, then looked back to his SL.
“…yeah some of it ended up in the seat, shredded something important, you made like a bowling pin.”
“…huh. Well…” The colony-born marine grimaced.
“Concussion symptoms. Shit.”
The woman snorted. “Figures. Strap in, I’ll get one of the medics over.”
As she walked away, the young man carefully sat back in the chair, and patted himself down.
No new holes, thankfully. Even the little memento feather had somehow survived the entire mission.
Somewhat battered and wilted, but it’d come out fine.
Putting his helmet on his lap, he toggled two safeties and slowly drifted off, trying to ignore the scent
of blood and gunsmoke.