Something in the back of his mind says that falling asleep is a bad idea, but damn does his body crave it. He’s exhausted, the chaos energy that usually circulates inside feels as if it's slipping away. Which in theory with all his inhibitors on shouldn’t be possible. Rolling his eyes around lets him catch four distinct shines of gold. So he’s not breaking apart due to an overload, but that doesn’t explain his draining power. Looking down to his left wrist reveals that his communicator has gone dark, screen smashed most likely during the collapse. No easy way out, as if he ever gets one anyway. Taking in a stuttered breath, he does the only thing he can do; keep moving. His arms slide forwards, gloved paws grip tight to the twisted metal of what looks to have once been the metal of a stair railing, and pull forward. Boy, what a mistake that is.
Ayeeeeee, I’m attempting to write again.