He is scared, god damnit. First Aid's a medic, not a warrior. Send him into a field full of the dead and dying and the only emotion he'd feel is sadness, but in a combat situation he was useless. This wasn't even a combat situation; this was straight up torture.
He wheezes as Tarn takes his head in his hands. It was the only noise he could make that would convey his hatred-- a deep chest rattle, mostly in the cooling fans. Any sort of sweetness wasn't to be trusted. As soon as the fingers push through his optics the clicking in his vocalizer start again, muting a scream.
First Aid thought he was spent for struggling, but it renews with fervor as he grabs onto Tarn's palm with his remaining hand, pushing against it as he squirms and thrashes in the mech's grip. As his fingers are forced into his broken sockets blood pours out of his nose, flooding his mouth, and he chokes on it, coughing on his own fluids. He swaps from thinking he'll die to wishing he was.
His whole body was agony. Blindness and muteness was terrifying. He could only guess what Tarn was doing from the sound of his movements, barely audible over the sound of his own ragged venting. He spits, aiming for Tarn's face, mostly blood rather than oral fluid. The movement itself makes his fingers widen the hole in his skull, pushing against his brain module, and his vocalizer clicks a few more time as a shock runs through his frame, making his spine arch.
no subject
He is scared, god damnit. First Aid's a medic, not a warrior. Send him into a field full of the dead and dying and the only emotion he'd feel is sadness, but in a combat situation he was useless. This wasn't even a combat situation; this was straight up torture.
He wheezes as Tarn takes his head in his hands. It was the only noise he could make that would convey his hatred-- a deep chest rattle, mostly in the cooling fans. Any sort of sweetness wasn't to be trusted. As soon as the fingers push through his optics the clicking in his vocalizer start again, muting a scream.
First Aid thought he was spent for struggling, but it renews with fervor as he grabs onto Tarn's palm with his remaining hand, pushing against it as he squirms and thrashes in the mech's grip. As his fingers are forced into his broken sockets blood pours out of his nose, flooding his mouth, and he chokes on it, coughing on his own fluids. He swaps from thinking he'll die to wishing he was.
His whole body was agony. Blindness and muteness was terrifying. He could only guess what Tarn was doing from the sound of his movements, barely audible over the sound of his own ragged venting. He spits, aiming for Tarn's face, mostly blood rather than oral fluid. The movement itself makes his fingers widen the hole in his skull, pushing against his brain module, and his vocalizer clicks a few more time as a shock runs through his frame, making his spine arch.