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mooglenet_backup[Strife-Lockheart Household;]
Cloud asked him to fix his bike. And to come up with a new fuel source. Challenged is more like the word, if Cid had any say about it. But he didn’t, really. Work was work and even if he was getting paid, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Of course the lack of tools was more than a little annoying as he tinkered around in the garage. The only thing that really pissed him off was that. It wasn’t finding out that one of the wires deep inside the workings frayed and fried most of the electrical components, it was that he was spending Cloud’s money to do it. So he didn’t have a Gil to his name here because he left his wallet on the kitchen table, la de fricken da. He felt like a kid, having to ask for money, whenever he needed to run out and get something. They were from different times and Cid was still older than him and he STILL needed money--
“Fuckin’ swear---” He swore under his breath. What he wouldn’t have given for a smoke right now. Gloved hands flew through the motions of putting this energy cell together. Scraps of paper were splayed about the area with almost insane scribbling on them with numbers and arrows, math and professional looking diagrams. He had made a mess out of their garage and he knew just where everything was. For acting like such a hick, no one would have guessed the man was such a brilliant rocket scientist.
But he let his angry thoughts about not having the right tools or proper technology to be doing this sort of work in some simple household garage. Thoughts wandered to home, the ranch… Shera and --- *fsshh--clink*
“….. SH--
[/S-L Household & surroundings within a half mile earshot]
[video;]
IT! [And no sooner than Cid had time to get that out, the high pitched hissing turned into an explosive, and rather impressive, boom. It shook the garage and house, undoubtedly sending some itty-bitty tremors though the ground and the boom traveling for at least a half mile.
The screen was filled with a light gray smoke -floating to the top- and fog -creeping on the ground-, angled up at the ceiling and the corner catching the back tire on Fenrir. There was an insignificant fire on the metal workbench all the while the screen flickered between gray fuzz and an actual image. The sound partially blown, the middle-aged pilot could be barely heard hacking up his lungs.
A dark shadow started coming from the fog, stumbling slightly. The feed cut back to the fuzz and when it came back, everything was a peculiar tinge of red before the feeds time ran out.]
[/video]
[S-L Household;]
Cid stumbled out of the garage, slamming the door open and sliding against it leaving a large streak of blood, and into the hall that lead to the house. They were heavy, disorientated foot falls as a hand guided him along the wall and to the kitchen. He didn’t notice the pain from his side or rather the coldness his blood brought to his skin as it dyed his shirt red.
Or the trail of drops behind him. All he was focused on was the ringing in his ears that was held in by earplugs, the pressure in his head and the way he couldn’t stop wobbling. Turning on the sink, he splashed water on his face to snap himself out of it. “Fuck--” He was wincing as he rubbed his hands over his face, coughing all the while.
Cloud asked him to fix his bike. And to come up with a new fuel source. Challenged is more like the word, if Cid had any say about it. But he didn’t, really. Work was work and even if he was getting paid, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Of course the lack of tools was more than a little annoying as he tinkered around in the garage. The only thing that really pissed him off was that. It wasn’t finding out that one of the wires deep inside the workings frayed and fried most of the electrical components, it was that he was spending Cloud’s money to do it. So he didn’t have a Gil to his name here because he left his wallet on the kitchen table, la de fricken da. He felt like a kid, having to ask for money, whenever he needed to run out and get something. They were from different times and Cid was still older than him and he STILL needed money--
“Fuckin’ swear---” He swore under his breath. What he wouldn’t have given for a smoke right now. Gloved hands flew through the motions of putting this energy cell together. Scraps of paper were splayed about the area with almost insane scribbling on them with numbers and arrows, math and professional looking diagrams. He had made a mess out of their garage and he knew just where everything was. For acting like such a hick, no one would have guessed the man was such a brilliant rocket scientist.
But he let his angry thoughts about not having the right tools or proper technology to be doing this sort of work in some simple household garage. Thoughts wandered to home, the ranch… Shera and --- *fsshh--clink*
“….. SH--
[/S-L Household & surroundings within a half mile earshot]
[video;]
IT! [And no sooner than Cid had time to get that out, the high pitched hissing turned into an explosive, and rather impressive, boom. It shook the garage and house, undoubtedly sending some itty-bitty tremors though the ground and the boom traveling for at least a half mile.
The screen was filled with a light gray smoke -floating to the top- and fog -creeping on the ground-, angled up at the ceiling and the corner catching the back tire on Fenrir. There was an insignificant fire on the metal workbench all the while the screen flickered between gray fuzz and an actual image. The sound partially blown, the middle-aged pilot could be barely heard hacking up his lungs.
A dark shadow started coming from the fog, stumbling slightly. The feed cut back to the fuzz and when it came back, everything was a peculiar tinge of red before the feeds time ran out.]
[/video]
[S-L Household;]
Cid stumbled out of the garage, slamming the door open and sliding against it leaving a large streak of blood, and into the hall that lead to the house. They were heavy, disorientated foot falls as a hand guided him along the wall and to the kitchen. He didn’t notice the pain from his side or rather the coldness his blood brought to his skin as it dyed his shirt red.
Or the trail of drops behind him. All he was focused on was the ringing in his ears that was held in by earplugs, the pressure in his head and the way he couldn’t stop wobbling. Turning on the sink, he splashed water on his face to snap himself out of it. “Fuck--” He was wincing as he rubbed his hands over his face, coughing all the while.
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