Blindsided
An Argento Soma Fanfiction
By Prospero Hibiki The Grandmaster Mongoose God of Misdirection, Caffeine, and Those Socks You Lost Last Tuesday [email protected]
Brought to you by Frozen Hell Productions
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the sole property of their creators and owners whoever they may be. The characters of the series Argento Soma are being used without permission. No profit is sought nor will any be received for the production or publication of this work.
Beginnings & Accidents
Journal of Ryu Soma: Entry 52
My life has often been a matter of accident after accident as well as mistake after mistake. I don't know what the cause of this one would be classified as, but I'm currently leaning towards a combination of the two. Two near misses from an alien's beams, and a moment of misguided attention was all it took to remove any chance I had at destroying Frank for what he had done to Maki and Professor Naguchi. The first had passed by so close to the cockpit of my Sarg that I could feel the heat even though the tempered material that comprised my canopy. But a quick turn in my seat to see what had been hit was what truly doomed me. Staring at the devastated building, my eyes widened in surprise as a second followed almost immediately hitting one of the remaining skyscrapers, bouncing off I the glass and heading for my craft. There wasn't anything I could do for it was immediately upon me. It enveloped me and soon I passed out from the pain exploding though half of my skull.
Waking up in the infirmary was interesting to say the least. Unable to see I had immediately screamed, and only the firm calming hands of Lt. Green against my chest had prevented me from ripping what I soon realized were bandages from my face. To this moment I still don't know just what she'd said that calmed me down enough to keep them from sedating me. The doctors told me then that the bandages are a necessity until they can discover just how badly my eyes were injured. From the minor radiation burns I received from the beam they think that I'll be anywhere from fine to permanently blind. Despite their encouraging words the tone of their voices tends to lean towards the latter and it scared me.
People were always with me while I waited from day to day. I doubt that any of them have ever been in the position that I was in, and yet they all felt compelled to sit with me doing nothing once they'd exhausted the inane topics of the day. It's almost worse when they gave up on sitting quietly and turned on the blasted television that's in the room. I suppose there is some regulation on what shows can be aired on a hospital's television set, and the only things not excluded seem to be horrible soap operas.
I've been unfair though. Not everyone was horrible company. Lt. Green was surprisingly good company during this time. She's also the only one who seemed to understand just how bored I was. I've always been a somewhat cerebral personality, and nothing to just think about was driving me insane, until Lt. Green introduced me to one of her hobbies. She seems to like word games and puzzles and such, for she always had questions for me. Not easy ones either. I must have gone through them by the score, but she always had another to follow with.
After a week of sitting though examination after examination, the doctors were still clueless as to the condition of my eyes. By then I'd started to pick out more and more sounds, distinguishing more detail from my surroundings. I felt it was only natural considering I'd lacked the use of my vision for the past week. I was starting to pick out the sounds of objects being moved around from the soap operas that Lt. Simmons watched to both my utter surprise and horror. Then again I had always thought there was something off about that man. Sue either watched the same shows or read the same book. Or at least I thought it was the same book as it sounded the same each time she gave up in disgust and threw it across the room before turning on the TV. Both of them tended to be inconsiderate enough to forget to turn the damned thing off when they left, as well as leaving the remote where I couldn't find it. Guinevere seemed to bring armloads of books with her because there was always a grouping of thuds on the table in the corner. It's the sort of sounds that big paperback books made when falling to the floor from an overloaded dorm desk as opposed to hardcover books. And why did she just sit there and quiz me for the entire length of her stay. It couldn't have been very exciting for her even if it was the high point of my day.
I think my devil even visited me once even though if he did I was asleep at the time. I know he's not the Devil, but that's how I've always thought of him. I woke up one morning only to find my hand wrapped around a smooth rounded object. I didn't need to do anything else to understand that it was an apple like the kind he'd offered me so many times before. It would be green and perfectly ripened without a single blemish. Either my devil is the Devil or he is a really discriminating produce shopper. I'm actually leaning towards the former because I've yet to see any apples that perfect in the base commissary. But then that's probably an indicator of how highly Funeral is thought of by the brass.
The day finally came when the doctors were ready to take the bandages off. I was scared. Terrified really. I don't remember the suspense getting to me as much the first time as it did then. But then I had only had one eye bandaged then. All the pilots seemed to be there as well as some of the support personnel that I'd met during my time with Funeral. Hattie wasn't, but then I didn't blame her for I knew about all the time she'd spent in hospitals. If I'd had the choice I wouldn't have been there either. Either way when Guinevere came in later that morning I asked her to throw it out.
The pain was unbearable. They'd taken the bandage off and suddenly the pain was stabbing into areas of the brain that I had very little real knowledge of. Shutting my eyes did nothing as I could still feel the pain piercing my brain. Pain and only pain was the totality of my universe for the brief moments it too me to slip gratefully into unconsciousness.
They called in some specialists to look at me, though I didn't understand at the time why they hadn't done so in the first place. Of course they were incompetent. Poking at me, prodding at me, adjusting the replaced bandages. They thought only one of my eyes was affected, the right one of course, though how exactly they came to that conclusion without removing the bandages was beyond me. Maybe the measured brain waves or did something while I slept. They said that the scarring in my other eye protected me somewhat. Lucky me.
The second attempt at removing the bandages went only slightly better. This time they tried it in total darkness so I could slowly become used to the light. It didn't work. There was a nightlight in the corner giving off the barest of glows. It jabbed me in the eye, and I screamed. It occurred to me then that I'd never get my revenge. I couldn't even see.
My left eye was fine like the specialists had asserted, surprising me. I could see out of it, which I suppose was some blessing but not much of one. Depth perception was gone. Coordination was gone. This one injury made me useless as a pilot. The doctors thought I'd become hypersensitive to light in my right eye. It's rare, but it has been known to happen if the eye is hit with enough radiation. They thought it might correct itself. Might. What was their elegant solution to the problem of the other eye? An eye patch held in place with a gummy substance. I wept that science had come so far in so little time. I don't think anyone but Guinevere got the sarcasm because I remember her trying to cover up laughter with a sudden coughing fit.
I wasn't feeling very sociable. I think everyone realized that rather quickly. Everyone that is, except Lt. Green. She seemed rather oblivious to my curt replies and short temper. Each day, after she'd been there a while, I would forget to be rude and start to enjoy myself. She confused me. Why did she keep coming? She clearly had better things to do because instead of word games she brought work. I didn't mind much for I'd been using the time myself. Things came to me. I'd filled several legal pads within the first two days of having the bandages removed. It'd been so ling since the ideas had come to me. In fact I doubt they ever had. Chemical bonds, micro-circuitry, gravity forces. So many ideas. I completely used up pens and almost screamed while groping for a new one because other ideas were sliding through my mind before I could find another. During this time I found myself babbling, running off at the mouth about whatever I'd been working on. Guinevere didn't always seem to listen, but I think that was more because she realized that I just needed to think out loud at times. There were times though that she responded with questions so pointed and astute, that I'd be sent off onto tangents solving other problems I'd come up with earlier. That was strange. Her comments showed that she has a much deeper understanding of the hard sciences that I would have expected in an ordinary pilot.
They released me from the hospital two weeks after the accident. I'd missed several alien attacks during my convalescence but no truly dangerous ones. No one mentioned that I wasn't going to be a pilot with only one good eye. Lt. Green picked me up to take me back to my apartment in the housing area of Funeral. It was good to get home. It was funny, but until I lay there upon my bed I hadn't understood that I'd come to recognize Funeral as my home.
I have a few ideas as to what I can do for Funeral now, and they rely pretty heavily on the twenty odd legal pads I took with me when I left the hospital. I suspect that once I get them transferred into my computer and sorted I'll be able to apply for some laboratory space in the complex.
By Prospero Hibiki The Grandmaster Mongoose God of Misdirection, Caffeine, and Those Socks You Lost Last Tuesday [email protected]
Brought to you by Frozen Hell Productions
Disclaimer: The characters in this story are the sole property of their creators and owners whoever they may be. The characters of the series Argento Soma are being used without permission. No profit is sought nor will any be received for the production or publication of this work.
Beginnings & Accidents
Journal of Ryu Soma: Entry 52
My life has often been a matter of accident after accident as well as mistake after mistake. I don't know what the cause of this one would be classified as, but I'm currently leaning towards a combination of the two. Two near misses from an alien's beams, and a moment of misguided attention was all it took to remove any chance I had at destroying Frank for what he had done to Maki and Professor Naguchi. The first had passed by so close to the cockpit of my Sarg that I could feel the heat even though the tempered material that comprised my canopy. But a quick turn in my seat to see what had been hit was what truly doomed me. Staring at the devastated building, my eyes widened in surprise as a second followed almost immediately hitting one of the remaining skyscrapers, bouncing off I the glass and heading for my craft. There wasn't anything I could do for it was immediately upon me. It enveloped me and soon I passed out from the pain exploding though half of my skull.
Waking up in the infirmary was interesting to say the least. Unable to see I had immediately screamed, and only the firm calming hands of Lt. Green against my chest had prevented me from ripping what I soon realized were bandages from my face. To this moment I still don't know just what she'd said that calmed me down enough to keep them from sedating me. The doctors told me then that the bandages are a necessity until they can discover just how badly my eyes were injured. From the minor radiation burns I received from the beam they think that I'll be anywhere from fine to permanently blind. Despite their encouraging words the tone of their voices tends to lean towards the latter and it scared me.
People were always with me while I waited from day to day. I doubt that any of them have ever been in the position that I was in, and yet they all felt compelled to sit with me doing nothing once they'd exhausted the inane topics of the day. It's almost worse when they gave up on sitting quietly and turned on the blasted television that's in the room. I suppose there is some regulation on what shows can be aired on a hospital's television set, and the only things not excluded seem to be horrible soap operas.
I've been unfair though. Not everyone was horrible company. Lt. Green was surprisingly good company during this time. She's also the only one who seemed to understand just how bored I was. I've always been a somewhat cerebral personality, and nothing to just think about was driving me insane, until Lt. Green introduced me to one of her hobbies. She seems to like word games and puzzles and such, for she always had questions for me. Not easy ones either. I must have gone through them by the score, but she always had another to follow with.
After a week of sitting though examination after examination, the doctors were still clueless as to the condition of my eyes. By then I'd started to pick out more and more sounds, distinguishing more detail from my surroundings. I felt it was only natural considering I'd lacked the use of my vision for the past week. I was starting to pick out the sounds of objects being moved around from the soap operas that Lt. Simmons watched to both my utter surprise and horror. Then again I had always thought there was something off about that man. Sue either watched the same shows or read the same book. Or at least I thought it was the same book as it sounded the same each time she gave up in disgust and threw it across the room before turning on the TV. Both of them tended to be inconsiderate enough to forget to turn the damned thing off when they left, as well as leaving the remote where I couldn't find it. Guinevere seemed to bring armloads of books with her because there was always a grouping of thuds on the table in the corner. It's the sort of sounds that big paperback books made when falling to the floor from an overloaded dorm desk as opposed to hardcover books. And why did she just sit there and quiz me for the entire length of her stay. It couldn't have been very exciting for her even if it was the high point of my day.
I think my devil even visited me once even though if he did I was asleep at the time. I know he's not the Devil, but that's how I've always thought of him. I woke up one morning only to find my hand wrapped around a smooth rounded object. I didn't need to do anything else to understand that it was an apple like the kind he'd offered me so many times before. It would be green and perfectly ripened without a single blemish. Either my devil is the Devil or he is a really discriminating produce shopper. I'm actually leaning towards the former because I've yet to see any apples that perfect in the base commissary. But then that's probably an indicator of how highly Funeral is thought of by the brass.
The day finally came when the doctors were ready to take the bandages off. I was scared. Terrified really. I don't remember the suspense getting to me as much the first time as it did then. But then I had only had one eye bandaged then. All the pilots seemed to be there as well as some of the support personnel that I'd met during my time with Funeral. Hattie wasn't, but then I didn't blame her for I knew about all the time she'd spent in hospitals. If I'd had the choice I wouldn't have been there either. Either way when Guinevere came in later that morning I asked her to throw it out.
The pain was unbearable. They'd taken the bandage off and suddenly the pain was stabbing into areas of the brain that I had very little real knowledge of. Shutting my eyes did nothing as I could still feel the pain piercing my brain. Pain and only pain was the totality of my universe for the brief moments it too me to slip gratefully into unconsciousness.
They called in some specialists to look at me, though I didn't understand at the time why they hadn't done so in the first place. Of course they were incompetent. Poking at me, prodding at me, adjusting the replaced bandages. They thought only one of my eyes was affected, the right one of course, though how exactly they came to that conclusion without removing the bandages was beyond me. Maybe the measured brain waves or did something while I slept. They said that the scarring in my other eye protected me somewhat. Lucky me.
The second attempt at removing the bandages went only slightly better. This time they tried it in total darkness so I could slowly become used to the light. It didn't work. There was a nightlight in the corner giving off the barest of glows. It jabbed me in the eye, and I screamed. It occurred to me then that I'd never get my revenge. I couldn't even see.
My left eye was fine like the specialists had asserted, surprising me. I could see out of it, which I suppose was some blessing but not much of one. Depth perception was gone. Coordination was gone. This one injury made me useless as a pilot. The doctors thought I'd become hypersensitive to light in my right eye. It's rare, but it has been known to happen if the eye is hit with enough radiation. They thought it might correct itself. Might. What was their elegant solution to the problem of the other eye? An eye patch held in place with a gummy substance. I wept that science had come so far in so little time. I don't think anyone but Guinevere got the sarcasm because I remember her trying to cover up laughter with a sudden coughing fit.
I wasn't feeling very sociable. I think everyone realized that rather quickly. Everyone that is, except Lt. Green. She seemed rather oblivious to my curt replies and short temper. Each day, after she'd been there a while, I would forget to be rude and start to enjoy myself. She confused me. Why did she keep coming? She clearly had better things to do because instead of word games she brought work. I didn't mind much for I'd been using the time myself. Things came to me. I'd filled several legal pads within the first two days of having the bandages removed. It'd been so ling since the ideas had come to me. In fact I doubt they ever had. Chemical bonds, micro-circuitry, gravity forces. So many ideas. I completely used up pens and almost screamed while groping for a new one because other ideas were sliding through my mind before I could find another. During this time I found myself babbling, running off at the mouth about whatever I'd been working on. Guinevere didn't always seem to listen, but I think that was more because she realized that I just needed to think out loud at times. There were times though that she responded with questions so pointed and astute, that I'd be sent off onto tangents solving other problems I'd come up with earlier. That was strange. Her comments showed that she has a much deeper understanding of the hard sciences that I would have expected in an ordinary pilot.
They released me from the hospital two weeks after the accident. I'd missed several alien attacks during my convalescence but no truly dangerous ones. No one mentioned that I wasn't going to be a pilot with only one good eye. Lt. Green picked me up to take me back to my apartment in the housing area of Funeral. It was good to get home. It was funny, but until I lay there upon my bed I hadn't understood that I'd come to recognize Funeral as my home.
I have a few ideas as to what I can do for Funeral now, and they rely pretty heavily on the twenty odd legal pads I took with me when I left the hospital. I suspect that once I get them transferred into my computer and sorted I'll be able to apply for some laboratory space in the complex.