When you’re asleep, you’re going with the flow. It’s this thick, smooth feeling of serenity. The only thing that can break that state is the hot needle of the shell that pierces you and makes those sitting inside you cower and shiver. They’re soft, they feel pain.
A memory appears from somewhere: getting a shell to the turret is like getting hit in the head. What head? You don’t have a head, where are these thoughts from?
Another memory:
“Stansfield, gas mask!” A hit to the turret. Hands shaking.
“We lost half our magnet traps. Impulse is going wild!”
“Cerberus, the Collector is glowing red like it’s about to blow!”
“Keep radio silence!..”
All sounds drown in hellish rumble. You wake up curled up on the floor of the vehicle. You take a breath and fill your lungs with purple smoke that got in through a penetration hole. You feel it dissolving you from the inside. You’re melting, becoming one with the tank. It hurts. More than the pokes from the shells. Bad memory. Sleep is better.
Sleep…sleeping makes you feel that thick, smooth feeling of serenity where there’s no pain. No pain at all.
