A few hours after Dronos painkiller incident.

Pain. That was the worst part. The pain of nerves dying, synapse by synapse giving up due to multiple infections. He didn't know how how long he had laid there. From the buildup of drool, he imagined it quite a while. He didn't have a memory of dragging himself back to his room. That was scarier then anything, his memory was meant remember practically everything. His cocktail had been way off.

He curled up, fishing out a set of tools and started to tinker with his newly aquired SMG. [color=a2d39c]"I am alive. And that is swell."[/color] He said, his voice soft as his throat was hoarse from from screaming. [color=a2d39c]"Yestin is alive, I'll send him to hell"[/color] He mumbled as he undid the clasp for the cooling unit and slid it out of its groove.  Next was the ironsight, it had been crooked. He put it down and looked it over skeptically. 

[color=a2d39c]"Should I tell them to hurry?"[/color] He mumbled ro himself, realizing the sooner he was off to the clinic, the better. He gingerly removed the stock and put it next to the rest. A twinge of pain ran up his arm. [color=a2d39c]"No, I cannot cause them to worry."[/color] He mumbled ot himself again. The rhyming was something he had picked up to amuse himself back in the day. It used to drive Yestin mad, so now he kept it up simply becouse knew somewhere out there, Yestin was growing irrationally angry over something. The receiver came next, he stared long and hard at the piece. [color=a2d39c]"Yeah. That does happen when you drag a gun trough mud."[/color]

"[color=a2d39c]You are being used."[/color] The voice came to him unbidden. Drono wasn't classically deranged. Just as much of the rocker you would expect a man, Drell, shot in the back would be. But ever so often when doubt crept up his spine and often after coming down his painkillers, there would be a voice nagging him. 

[color=a2d39c]"Maybe."[/color] He said to nobody. [color=a2d39c]"If I am being used by a group of mercenaries. I am using them to get back at my adversaries."[/color] He began to clean the receiver, squinting at it. [color=a2d39c]"If they are legit, and this will last, then I need to find Yestin fast."[/color] He mumbled, still rhyminig. 

"IN the end it will be fine. We just cannot cross that line."

[color=a2d39c]"I did cross that line. Becouse lady was mighty fine."[/color] He grinned a bit. "[color=a2d39c]Mighty fine..[/color]." His hand twitched with a sudden flare of pain and he dropped the piece he had been working on. The collant cell dropped with a hollow thunk 

"I'm not fine." He said, staring at his shaking hand as the reality of his situation came crashing down.  This time, no tears fell. What he felt wasn't the strange, overwhelming sadness that was invoked in him under the influence of drugs and his memories. It was a insane, white hot anger. It gave him clarity. It gave him purpose. He put the rest of his smg together and stared at the door. 

[color=a2d39c]"No. We are not fine. But that is ok."[/color] He surmised.