Having done a spectacular job of playing dead for quite some time, it seemed Ranald's body wanted to shake things up a bit. Namely, it wanted him to wake up, preferably now. When Ranald did so, he opened his eyes, whereupon he bore witness to absolutely nothing. Or, to put it another way, complete and utter blackness, as far as his eyes couldn't see.

[i]Am I dead? The PR fluid didn't go off, and the last shot I remember hitting the AT grazed the head, so what got me?[/i]

As his train of thought ground to a halt, Ranald finally noticed a key indicator that he was alive: his heartbeat. While he was still curious as to how he survived, that matter could wait. For now, he'd focus on getting his bearings. Thankfully, his inability to see was not due to blindness, but rather a complete absence of proper lighting in the room he was in. 

Once his eyes adjusted, Ranald was able to make out his general surroundings. He was outside his AT, still in his suit, lying face up in a sparsely furnished prison cell. Mr. Colbert's arms were bound, and his gun was missing. Nobody else seemed to be around, but Ranald could just barely make out the sound of something in the distance. [i]Might be the wind, faulty piping, or if I'm lucky, someone else. I should investigate.[/i]

However, the moment he moved to rise, a piercing pain in his head sent him right back down. It seemed he didn't escape that last battle entirely unscathed. Taking it much more slowly, Ranald eventually drew himself into a sitting position, followed by the soldier shakily rising to his feet. Once he'd steadied himself, Mr. Colbert walked up to the cell door, and gave it a tentative nudge. Bizarrely, it was unlocked, allowing him to make a fairly swift exit. For a supposed prison, the security was awfully sloppy, suspiciously so. Sure, the place was abandoned, but someone had to have brought him here. With any luck, investigating the noises he'd heard would lead to whomever was responsible.

Thus, Ranald set out towards the source of the racket.