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"[color=00a651]Yeah, alright, [i]thanks[/i].[/color]" he mumbled sarcastically to himself, it wasn't like he cared if they showed him the way or not. It was just a matter of his navigational skills and the fact that they were somewhat in the lacking department. 

He was good with mazes but large metal bunkers hadn't been on his list of things to learn to work through. He wasn't even entirely sure that he'd ever been in a metal bunker, let alone in the position of trying to navigate one. Honestly, he was very bad in these situations and would certainly end up just south of hell if he didn't end up stumbling into a mutilated bathroom first. He was tired, a sort of exhaustion that made his bones feel heavy when he moved and he couldn't seem to shake it but seeing people die had that effect on him. It was a heaviness behind his eyes and he pulled himself forward without another word. It was weird to feel so tired and to not be able to just flop down on his good old bed, he might not have spent all his days at home but he had taken that bed for granted. He could just about kill to be home again and listening to Diamond Dogs on the boombox that he kept next to his bed. He could just about kill to have his open window and to hear the faint rustling of the rose bushes with each gust of wind. He could just about kill to be home and yet he didn't even want to think about it.

If something had happened to his mother, as it had been suggested, then he wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself. The power hadn't been her fault and it was such a useless power to begin with. He wasn't even sure why he'd been given such an idiotic power if all it was going to do was get his parents murdered and nearly get him murdered. It was stupid, he hated it, he hated every single bit of it. [i]It wasn't even a good power![/i] He could have understood if it was a power that could turn seas and make people tremble in it's wake but it was honestly just an extension to his internal narcissism. He could make another Carson, [i]probably a stupider Carson[/i], appear at will. Another Carson that was probably just as confused an upset as him. Another Carson to throw a fit with. Honestly, it would be hilarious to fill a room with sobbing, screaming Carsons but he didn't even know if he could do that. He kind of wanted to apologize to his saviors and tell them that his only good power was the power of irony and the ability to cry very loud when he became disgruntled. [i]He was going to make a great super hero one day, he was sure of it.[/i]

Walking carefully, he ignored the urge to try to comfort himself with one of his stories. It was mostly out of hesitance because the last time he'd remembered one, a four year old version of him had nearly given him a heart attack. He didn't want to face any other unfortunate versions of himself because any version was a bad version and he wasn't in the mood to deal with them. After a few bad turns, he finally found what looked to be a sleeping quarter, complete with cots and everything and he nearly tripped over himself to get to one. It was weird to feel so grateful just to lie down on something, especially something as viciously uncomfortable as a cot. He really hoped that he hadn't just planted himself onto someone's bed but he could barely bring himself to care right now. He could have lied comfortably on the floor right now but this was so much better than a floor. He nearly found himself crying with joy but instead he found himself staring at the ceiling as he tried to breathe in deeply. It was easier to breathe like this and he could pretend he was back home if he tried hard enough. He could pretend he could hear the wailing cat that lived next door and he could relax his shoulders.

When he finally shut his eyes, he wasn't so sure of how he'd manage to sleep after today.
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