Flexing his fingers, the leather of his gloves squeaking, Grant fixes his goggles into place, securing the strap over the back of his head, then places the rebreather over his mouth and nose. Smacking his right fist into his open left palm twice as he waits for the gang ramp to lower, Damage rotates his right shoulder, wincing. Still hurts.
We get it right this time...he thinks, rushing out with the others, glancing up briefly at the afternoon sky as Nightstar and Starfire soar overhead.
Already, his fingers are beginning to shimmer with excess biochemical energy. Any of these yahoos that decide to get in his way is going to be really sorry...
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-11-17 01:02 am (UTC)We get it right this time...he thinks, rushing out with the others, glancing up briefly at the afternoon sky as Nightstar and Starfire soar overhead.
Already, his fingers are beginning to shimmer with excess biochemical energy. Any of these yahoos that decide to get in his way is going to be really sorry...