“What the fuck.”

Elijah shook his head, scrunching his eyes closed. It was quite an extreme transition between what was essentially nothing to where he was now. Loud noises, smoke, pain, heat. His brain was overloaded with the myriad new feelings and senses he was lucky enough to be taking in. It took him a minute or two to actually get to a point where he was even moderately capable of being a functioning person. His head still throbbed, and the lights were still bright in his eyes. He had, what he could only assume, was the worst hangover ever.

After giving himself a moment to regain control of his most basic functions, Eli began to regain his mind. Like every time he blacked out while drinking, Eli forced himself to recall the last memory he had access to. With this, his situation became clear. His last memory was being placed into cryostasis, to live out the rest of eternity in a nice little pod floating in space. Then he had been put to sleep by UN authorities, now he was being woken up by something a lot sharper, a lot more metal, and probably a lot more fun to be around.

The metal spike had slipped its way right through the “protective” glass cover that was on the front of his pod, leaving the surface of it splintered with a thin spider web of cracks. It had lodged itself directly to his left, though not before cutting through a part of his shoulder. It could be worse, but Eli wasn’t currently in the silver lining kind of mindset.

His shoulder seared as he loosened the straps that held him into the pod. Luckily the restraints were only to keep them in place and could be, with a little work, escaped from. Another stroke of luck allowed Eli to push open the door of his pod, which had opened but had been held somewhat in place by the metal spike. A bit of a shove dislodged the spike from the back of the pod and allowed the door to swing free. Eli slipped, less than gracefully, to the ground. He landed on his hands and knees, narrowly avoiding the small glass shards that the spike had left so kindly for him to find.

A quick glance around his immediate area revealed that all hell had broken loose on the ship between the time whatever had went wrong did and now. The place was a shithole. Glass, metal, and bodies littered the ground. Smoke and noise filled the air. Sirens were blaring, alarms were beeping, and people were screaming and choking and weeping. Overall it seemed like cryosleep was a much more pleasant time.

Only once he had confirmed his own immediate safety, or at least as well as he could, did he entertain the thought of what had happened. It didn’t look like security was very tight at the moment, given all the dead bodies on the ground were prisoners and that some looked like they had perished from means other than a crash or whatever had happened. The systems didn’t seem to be running properly, given that he was awake to realize that. Also the lights were growing increasingly dim, but mostly the being awake thing. Maybe they had decided the program wasn’t worth their time and they crashed the place into the moon or something. Eli couldn’t really figure it out, so he figured there wasn’t much of a point in pondering it any longer. What mattered now was what he was going to do next.

He figured a weapon would be a good idea, and moved back to the front of his pod. “And so we meet again,” he spoke, under his breath. The metal spike came easily out of the glass, apparently longing to taste blood once more. It was a good enough weapon for the time being, heavy enough and sharp enough. It was round for the most part at one end, providing a good enough handle.

The movement angered the burning red line that ran along his left shoulder, causing it to call out in the most unpleasant of ways. Eli felt the pain and felt his arm grow warmer as the red fluid slipped down his arm, staining his prison uniform.

A light tug pulled the already torn fabric of the uniform free from itself, separating the almost the entire left arm of the suit from the body. Eli then tore it again into a nice strip which would provide a nice enough bandage for the time being. 

With his bleeding stopped for the moment, Eli moved his mind onto more important things. Namely how he looked. From what he could tell his face was still intact, which was good. His hair had seen better days, but he had just woken up so who could really blame him? All that was left was his outfit. He certainly couldn’t walk around a malfunctioning prison ship potentially filled to the brim with well rested psychopaths looking like a fool, and only having one sleeve was certainly not the best look. He briefly considered tearing off the other sleeve, but decided he didn’t quite have the muscles for the sleeveless look. Instead, he slipped his upper body out of the garment and tied it at his waist, using the sleeve and the little nub left over from the other sleeve.

With that out of the way, Eli turned his focus to the cuff on his wrist. It had his name, incarceration details, and serial number on it. He had been happy to get the number he did. [i]00100[/i]. It had a nice symmetry to it. Then he noticed the date on the cuff, 2235. [i]Damn, he was old as shit.[/i]