It’s cold outside.
A piercing cry woke him, Yellow clawing at him from inside his skull with a near instant cry- no, a scream, for him to wake up.
His head hurt- it was throbbing near the base of his skull, like he’d been hit with something hard. The cold ground under him almost felt heavenly against the chilled flooring.
His fingers ached, his palms feeling numb against the ice. A shiver stole across him, and it took everything he had to muffle his groan as his entire body tingled unpleasantly.
Hunk moaned, his breath leaving in a white cloud. The sound echoed around him, seeming to almost bounce back against whatever he was laying on.
It took Hunk several long, long minutes to even move, his legs sluggishly scuffing against what his slowly recovering mind told him was ice. His top was, he realized, missing his armored chest plating and missing his helmet. While normally it was almost a relief to be down twenty plus pounds of gear, it wasn’t such
When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was, indeed, surrounded by ice. It was a deep pit, with the sides so smooth that he could see himself reflected a thousand times over. It roughened out as it reached down to where he was, and he could see branching tunnels of rough worn ice out of the corners of his eyes.
At the very top of the pit, Yellow was braced as close as she could get without her bulk risking breaking the fragile frozen liquid. Her intense gaze was fixated on him. She could not get to him, but he could feel her worry, her anxiety. She was afraid.
What was she afraid of...?
Hunk struggled to his feet, his head hazy. A quick run of his numb fingers across the back of his neck made him flinch. There was a singular scabbed wound- a puncture mark. He’d been drugged. What had he- where had...?
His gaze found Lance, and Hunk figured he could worry about that later. Like himself, the Cuban had been stripped down to just his armored pants, and his armored tank top that worked as under armor. However, unlike Hunk, Lance didn’t have the extra padding to keep warm, and there was no telling how long they’d been down here.
Hunk hit his knees the first time he tried to gain his feet, so he ended up scooting over on the slick ice, letting his armored knee pads take the scuffing. He leaned over, and scooped Lance’s torso up against his own, chilled hands already going to work rubbing warmth back into Lance.
“Lance...” He whispered. “Lance. Come on, Lance. Es hora de despertar ahora.” Hunk tucked the cuban’s head against his chest, easing his body up effortlessly as he checked him over for wounds while trying to warm him up with the body heat that he had in spades.
@pilotlmcclain
