Commander let the fluid drain to the point where he would not be hindered, and immediately hoisted Feather up to where he would not sag painfully against the restraints with one arm, using the other to take hold of the mask.
"Hold on, this might feel terrible."
Cringing, Commander helped him get the thing out, tossing it to the side immediately and continuing to hold Feather up while he recovered. Just what on Earth were they trying to do?
"Alright, I’m going to break these restraints. Look pretty reinforced, but it’s nothing I can’t handle…"
Yep, he was thinking out loud. While he did so, he explained the change in plans. First a wrist, then a leg, then another wrist, and then the last leg.
"I’m going to get you out of here, going to make sure you’re not in immediate danger, and I’m going to drop you at your honey’s place."
"And then I’m going to -hrff- come back here for Xana and Hark. I wasn’t alone, I’ll tell you that."
"I’m going to make sure Xana’s got this place on lockdown, and if there’s anything here you need, like that emerald I can’t get, we’ll get it then unless you think you can hold on to it. I can’t grab it, but I can carry you while you’re grabbing it.”
"Is that understood?"
And the last restraint was broken, letting Feather fall onto a stronger body who held him up. He was prepared for the worst.
*Commander touched him and Feather’s eyes flared, huffing air out of his nose that clouded the mask. He looked a bit like a spooked colt, body shuddering and shaking against his alternate’ s firm body. He watched him carefully, shifting uncomfortably as his bruised body could not find a good position. Again he braced himself, but it didn’t work as well as last time. He gagged and, the moment the tube was clear, probably began to hack and cough till clear, white fluid came up and he spat it onto the floor.
Ugh, he felt sick.
Commander’s babbling did more good than he thought. Feather focused on his voice, trying to clear his foggy and aching head. Everything was disjointed and blurry around him.
Get him out…he understood that. Ok, get him out, go to Neuro’s place. That was-
N…n-noo…..Pe-peop….people he-re. Ne-eed ….he-l…lp.
*Shaky arms wrapped themselves a bit haphazardly around Commander as Feather settled his feet onto the ground again. He was pretty sure he looked absolutely pathetic, especially since one of his knees was giving out on him and he was struggling to stay standing. His wings felt so, so damn heavy in their restraints, but they could be dealt with at Neuro’s place.*
Em…-emer-…ld lader, ge…get them ou…t firsst.
Commander’s momentum ended abruptly, as panicked beings rushed beside him. He stared, dumbfounded, fist still clenched - mere survival instinct, he reassured himself. He did not notice the tank at first, not until the surge.
Liquid fire rocketed through his veins; the activated emerald was out of control, leaving him prone. He merely plowed through it, disregarding the burning sensation and rushed to the upright tank. Mustering up his strength again, he stared Feather right in the eyes (more like pinpricks…) and placed both open hands on the glass.
"Feather!! I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to rein yourself in!! I can’t have you trying to— you know what, fuck it."
Steadying his hand on the glass, he raised the other, and with a solid blow, he broke the glass. Letting the liquid fall, he braced himself, stepping back with a metallic arm raised for protection.
*Feather’s own distressed, disoriented, and enraged state was being carried over to the Chaos emerald. It, in return, went wild, sending energy back to Feather, fueling him in a cycle of emotion and energy that played hand in hand. Either Feather had to calm down, or someone had to get control of the Chaos emerald. Until then, the cycle continued.
Commander’s gaze was simply returned with a wild, pleading one.
‘Get me out get me out get me out’
He stilled, just for a moment, and braced himself. The glass was shattered and Feather groaned, instantly hanging his head as everything drain away. To Chaos above did his head ache terribly. Everything started to hurt again, and Feather merely hung limp from his restraints, chest heaving, tossing his head from side to side with failing strength, attempting to at the very least get the damn mask off of his nose.
He shot Commander an agitated, annoyed look with out really raising his head, teeth sinking into the tube down his throat till his jaw forced him to unclench.
'I could really use some help here' it said.*
Hope has started putting up the Christmas decorations.
I don’t think the new program Brandon put in is going to keep her from hacking the system and blasting Christmas carols.
»Once you get to the correct floor, I will be of no more help. I’ve done what I can. Though just fair warning, sleeping beauty is waking up from his nap and he ain’t happy. Might want to be careful.
So Feather was stirring. This could be…catastrophic. As Commander charged through the aisle, looking for the correct room, he sent one last message.
»That’s fine. You deal with Hark. Once I get our falcon where he needs to be, I’ll be back to wrap this up. If you don’t hear back from me within fifteen, twenty minutes, do what you can to get back home. I’ve got a warp ring on me, and I’ll be fine. Kudos to you, Xana, and thanks for your help. Commander, over and out.
And he cut the link, just as he reached the final door. He paused for a moment, weighing the options heavily. What were the odds that there were troops in there? Pretty high, all things considered. Could he take them on? Absolutely, but it was anyone’s guess whether or not he could handle Feather. An unstable Chaos battery like him could prove disastrous if this wasn’t handled with care. But then again…there was always the Omega protocol. And that consisted of ‘burn everything to the ground.’
Collateral damage it is.
He tore through the heavy door with great momentum, charging into the room, prepared to scare anyone in there shitless if he had to. Hopefully, Xana and Hark would be okay for a few minutes.
*Stirring was right, mad was right. Catastrophic?
Probably not, figuring as he couldn’t even made the metal locks binding him bend. Actually, he was doing nothing to them, nothing at all. They weren’t even weakening! New rage flared through him and Feather attempted to growl, though he just managed to choke on the tube in his mouth a bit more and gagged around it.
Hark was here. He knew Hark was here. He couldn’t have come alone…who was with him? Someone had to have shut off the gas- someone had to be attacking the building right now. Who? Who who who…he needed a connection.
He didn’t care what was taking them so long to get to him - his people were still inside of this building. Curled up in cages, probably scared out of their whits. Packers some, innocent members of camps…
Feather wasn’t leaving until they were ok. They had to be ok.
He’d never forgive himself if they weren’t.
The door being plowed in was not unheard by the angry hybrid, merely muffled, as was the screaming that followed. No troops had come to the room. The scientists had been previously trapped inside and now were running about the place, abandoning their posts and hastily trying to get past Commander and out the way he had come, just so they could save themselves.
He narrowed his eyes and wrestled harder. It didn’t matter who just came in, he wanted those people dead.
Never to see sunlight again. Not for what they had done, done to him, his people-
Chaos sparked around the Chaos emerald at the base of Feather’s tank, catching a couple scientists running by and stilling them instantly, bodies crashing to the floor in seconds. No outside damage at all, they’d simply dropped dead.*
Please do, or people are going to come after you asking for interviews and pictures.
Y-you…You’d do that?
GUYS GUYS GUYS I’M NOT YOUR LORD AND SAVIOR
WHERE ARE YOU ALL GETTING THESE LUDICROUS IDEAS
I beg to differ.
#good lord neuro
that tag gives me the idea of Neuro being our lord and savior
oh wait he already is
Kind, amazing and a sweetie.
Oh boy. You’ve managed to make my face rather red, wouldn’t you know it.
Imagine your OTP baking cookies together for the holidays and Person A yelling at Person B when they eat a whole handful of the finished product just to “make sure they’re edible”.
Proof that pole dancing is a fucking sport and anyone that tells me it’s not can suck my dick.
It probably is, but the suit will make sure you mask your identity. That way people won’t come hounding you for autographs when you save people.
Drawing and coloring is cool. I was never very good at it when I was young. Still not good at it, actually.
Mind showing me some of your work later, when you have the time to drop by again? I’d love to see what you’d made!