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2014-07-20 03:44 am (UTC)
Maybe it was because they were used to fighting: out in the wastelands, it had been a daily fight against monstrous creatures, like the giant spiders, until they'd found their cliff cave. And even then, they had plenty of chances to keep their skills sharp.
What Drift hadn't really had a chance to practice, though, was the ancient skill of 'not falling through floors'. When the steel shrieked and gave under him, Wing had been just far enough behind him, and with just the right reflexes, to leap into the air. Good strategy, but it was too late for Drift: he tumbled down through the crackling floorboards, unable to tell which way was up, and the idea of activating the jets Vector had given him just to accelerate into a wall was...really not so great.
He landed with a crash, metal and glass and the sickening sound of radiation-soured concrete crumbling in sickly chunks. When he shook his head to clear his vision, he could hear a really unpromising sound in the cloud of dust and clater of falling concrete he'd kicked up.
"Wing?" He hoped the jet could hear him, somewhere, uh, up there. "I think I found something!" And of course by 'something' he means 'something not very good'.
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