Panic Attack

Untitled Part 16

Rocket woke up to the sound of voices. The low tones and warbled words slowly pulling him from his peaceful daze.

The first thing he noticed upon settling back into a conscious state, was that he was no longer strapped down, flexing his fingers as though to test his theory. Although his wrists and ankles hurt immensely from the constant rubbing and tugging on restraints, he was now able to move freely.

The voice was becoming clearer now as the grogginess clouding his mind began to clear away, much to Rocket's disappointment. He couldn't recall the last time that he had found sleep so comfortable.

The second thing that Rocket noticed as the comfortable numbness of sleep began to lift, was that his shoulder still hurt. In fact, it hurt even worse than before. The raccoon's senses were alight as consciousness came rushing back to him, his once dull pained cut in his collarbone now flaring with pain as though the half-assed stitched had just been torn apart and redone altogether.

His eyes were clenched shut as a wave of nausea washed over him, making a shudder run up the raccoon's spine, and to be honest, he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to open them. He simply wanted to drift back into that world of calm darkness of a dreamless sleep, a luxury that he had never had the pleasure of experiencing before.

The only thing stopping him from allowing himself to settle back into a peaceful sleep was that damned pain in his shoulder, growing worse by the second as whatever tranquilizer they had injected in his this time began to wear off. Letting out a disgruntled groan, the raccoon struggled in bringing the feeling back into his limbs enough to relieve himself of the burning sensation by taking the weight off of his shoulder.

Unfortunately, despite his racing thoughts, his limbs refused to comply with his panicked mind, kicking sluggishly at the air as though he were submerged in a vat of molasses. Soon realizing that whatever those Halfworlders had pumped into his bloodstream had left him utterly exhausted. Not that he was about to let that stop him from trying to escape of course. In fact, upon gaining the feeling and control of his right hand, Rocket believed that he may have a chance of escape before the Halfworlders even realized that he was awake. Suddenly all the more grateful that they had left him unrestrained as he struggled to regain full consciousness.

In doing so however, Rocket became aware of a sudden weight on his chest, his fur rubbing coarsely against the rough material. Gritting his teeth in irritation at the restraining presence tangling around his legs, he let out another strangled grunt, trying frantically to kick the thing off of himself.

And in a moment, the weight was quickly yanked away from him, leaving his suddenly uncovered body to instinctively curl in on itself, shivering slightly as the cold air rushed to meet the raccoon, his tail wrapping around himself protectively. And within that moment, that warbled voice that had been almost forgotten completely as Rocket struggled to gain control of his limbs again was suddenly much clearer, as well as louder.

He felt his ears fly back to pin themselves against his head upon hearing the voice, pressing his face further into the pillow as he did.

Wait. Pillow?

Rocket had awoken from his pain induced comas in more than one location upon the Halfworld craft. Metallic tables, and cages, sometimes having even passed out in a hallway whilst being dragged to and from procedures. But never had he ever waken up anywhere where a pillow had been provided, the scientists weren't all too worried about the comfort they provided for their subjects.

Rocket was quickly pulled out of his confusion however when a sudden pressure wrapped itself around his arm, causing him to flinch back on himself in surprise. "Rocket." The voice called, only causing him to shrink back more, cursing silently when a whimper escaped when the hands didn't let go.