The first smash against the wall was fresh agony. First Aid couldn't imagine he'd hurt any more, but the crunch of his face against the wall makes all his limbs seize and jerk like he was some oversized marionette. The pain shoots through his spine, feeling like a thousand needles stabbing him in every sensor in his body, blending with the nauseating agony of his broken ankle and bleeding hand. The grind of his own face echoes in his audio and soon it just... stops hurting as much.
First Aid can tell he's dying. He can feel his spark contracting, giving in. He fades in and out of consciousness, starting to dream while still awake, feeling a phantom brush of warmth against his plating. It would be nice just to go to sleep. He hurts so, so much.
He doesn't have much of a face to show any reaction to Tarn's words. He hardly hears them, his audio filled with an incessant ringing. Where his derma was scraped and crushed away was exposed skull, his jaw disconnected and hanging loose, barely attached by a small bit of ligament. Most of the glass of his visor was gone, leaving the eye sockets fully exposed. The only sign he was still alive was the soft clicking from his vocalizer and an attempt to swallow. With his jaw loose, it just makes blood fish down his chest while the exposed tubing twitches and flexes.
It takes a full minute for him to move, his fingers twitching, looking more like a convulsion than a voluntary movement. Distantly, he thinks about Ratchet. It would be horrible once he finds his body. And he never really did get the chance to apologize to Trailcutter. And Sixshot...
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The first smash against the wall was fresh agony. First Aid couldn't imagine he'd hurt any more, but the crunch of his face against the wall makes all his limbs seize and jerk like he was some oversized marionette. The pain shoots through his spine, feeling like a thousand needles stabbing him in every sensor in his body, blending with the nauseating agony of his broken ankle and bleeding hand. The grind of his own face echoes in his audio and soon it just... stops hurting as much.
First Aid can tell he's dying. He can feel his spark contracting, giving in. He fades in and out of consciousness, starting to dream while still awake, feeling a phantom brush of warmth against his plating. It would be nice just to go to sleep. He hurts so, so much.
He doesn't have much of a face to show any reaction to Tarn's words. He hardly hears them, his audio filled with an incessant ringing. Where his derma was scraped and crushed away was exposed skull, his jaw disconnected and hanging loose, barely attached by a small bit of ligament. Most of the glass of his visor was gone, leaving the eye sockets fully exposed. The only sign he was still alive was the soft clicking from his vocalizer and an attempt to swallow. With his jaw loose, it just makes blood fish down his chest while the exposed tubing twitches and flexes.
It takes a full minute for him to move, his fingers twitching, looking more like a convulsion than a voluntary movement. Distantly, he thinks about Ratchet. It would be horrible once he finds his body. And he never really did get the chance to apologize to Trailcutter. And Sixshot...