The removal of the hood had the young man squinting to shut out some light, even as his eyes darted around to take everything in. Sound had been muffled by the material, but eventually, recognizable sounds of fighting drifted in and dragged him back to consciousness.
He felt sluggish. He hadn't been awake for very long when he heard someone - he didn't recognize who - saying they should leave the hostages bound. That was when he'd started to get up, slowly. It wasn't easy, blind, clumsy with hands bound, and no magnetic field or flight ring with which to cheat.
Now, he could see. Rokk Krinn, the Legionnaire known as Cosmic Boy, was surrounded by unfamiliar combatants, most of them down, and one shaky-looking hostage that he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with, so that he'd have something to lean on. Of the ones on their feet, most are wearing a familiar insignia, and he lingered on it with a growing sense of relief. He might not know these Legionnaires, but the letter that spelled out entire sentence: not only were they in the right universe, they were going home.
The calm was short-lived. His eyes snap wide at the first shot, and he turned towards the sound. There's an alarmed, wordless exclamation that manages to carry an air of what are you doing, and there's a definite sprock in the middle of it. It's not discernible, but he can't hide the expression and tone behind the gag.
Unfortunately, Cos doesn't know what a VALIS gun was, and he can only go by the look of it. Two shots to the head did not make a good tableau, despite the lack of gore. He's awake now and shaking his hands towards another Legionnaire with a pleading look.
"Get these off," he ordered in a garbled, lockjaw mess of emphatic mumbling. He knew no one would understand, but they might listen. The restraints, the muzzle, the sprocking collar - anything would be helpful.
Please hold off on tagging until the other NPC joins in later tonight.
He felt sluggish. He hadn't been awake for very long when he heard someone - he didn't recognize who - saying they should leave the hostages bound. That was when he'd started to get up, slowly. It wasn't easy, blind, clumsy with hands bound, and no magnetic field or flight ring with which to cheat.
Now, he could see. Rokk Krinn, the Legionnaire known as Cosmic Boy, was surrounded by unfamiliar combatants, most of them down, and one shaky-looking hostage that he moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with, so that he'd have something to lean on. Of the ones on their feet, most are wearing a familiar insignia, and he lingered on it with a growing sense of relief. He might not know these Legionnaires, but the letter that spelled out entire sentence: not only were they in the right universe, they were going home.
The calm was short-lived. His eyes snap wide at the first shot, and he turned towards the sound. There's an alarmed, wordless exclamation that manages to carry an air of what are you doing, and there's a definite sprock in the middle of it. It's not discernible, but he can't hide the expression and tone behind the gag.
Unfortunately, Cos doesn't know what a VALIS gun was, and he can only go by the look of it. Two shots to the head did not make a good tableau, despite the lack of gore. He's awake now and shaking his hands towards another Legionnaire with a pleading look.
"Get these off," he ordered in a garbled, lockjaw mess of emphatic mumbling. He knew no one would understand, but they might listen. The restraints, the muzzle, the sprocking collar - anything would be helpful.