Thunderstorm was not having the best day.
Her head was groggy, as if someone had injected slime into her skull. Behind her eyes was a burning sensation, and her body was stiff from remaining motionless. Her eyelids were uncooperative, her eyes twitching as she struggled to open them. Her throat was scratchy and dry, like a desert had manifested in them.
Her fingers twitched, her fingertips sensing the fabric of a bedsheet, and the faint texture of bandages around her hands and arms. Despite her ears ringing, pounding on her skull like drums, she could hear the creak of a chair, and the faint chirp of a machine.
Then she heard someone snapping the fingers beside her ear, as if they were trying to get a response from her. Her breathing sharpened, muscles tensing. She wanted to wake up, but her body wouldn't allow her.
The snapping stopped, which eased her nerves a little. Eventually, her eyelids opened, the world in front of her blurred and distorted. She could see a dark ceiling, the electrical lights turned off, with a small peek of light shining through what possibly could be an unshut door.
She paced her breathing, and moved her limbs slowly to regain control over them. She could feel bandages wrapped around her stomach too, which was where one of the major wounds were.
Finally, she was capable of pushing herself up, supporting her weight with her arms, though the wounds stung with pain. Her mind instantly cleared, the pressure lessening as her senses sharpened.
Then she remembered the other person in the room. She spun around, and she saw a man, his legs crossed on the swivelling chair, stationed in front of various medical machinery. Maybe she was still delusional, because his eyes looked like they were glowing faintly, the gold moving as his gaze trailed down to her wounds.
"Took you long enough," he said, though his voice was muffled, due to the ringing in her ears. He stood from his chair, opening the drawer from a white cupboard and put on disinfected one-use plastic gloves. "I'm going to have to check on your wounds. Hold out your left hand."
Thunderstorm frowned, sceptically listening anyway. She raised her left hand, the bandages fresh, but the wounds remained.
The man gently cut the bandages with a pair of metal scissors, and unravelled the latter professionally. When he got to the last layer, he frowned with confusion and removed the bandages entirely before getting another bundle of it.
As he rebandaged her hand, he turned to her, though his movements were precise and clean, with no excessive time wasted.
"You don't how to protect yourself with your powers, do you?"
"No..." Thunderstorm glanced away. "I don't."
"I understand. If there's no one to teach you, figuring out is impossible," he said, then smirked in triumph. "Unless you're as smart as me, that is."
He stared at Thunderstorm expectantly, like he was expecting a reaction, and he got it, though it may not be the effect he was going for. Thunderstorm's cheeks reddened, and she turned away, though he kept her hand firm as he made the finishing touches.
He kept his smile as he cut the bandages, keeping them in place with some basic paper tape.
"Not used to harmless teasing, huh?" he guessed. "My name's Solar. So, you went up against Quake like a headless chicken. I'm actually surprised you're still alive."
The memory of the battle formed in her mind, the embarrassment of suffering a humiliating defeat still fresh. The ending of the battle slowly came to her in pieces, and Quake didn't kill her, but instead she'd saved her...
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How To Be Me (boboiboy galaxy)
Fanfiction"You say you want to save people, but you can't even save yourself." Thunderstorm looked down to her hands, but all she could see was red.
