John-117 (The Master Chief) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prettycoolguy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2016-01-06 07:30 pm
prettycoolguy) wrote in legionworld2016-01-06 07:30 pm
Entry tags:
Diagnostics
Who| The Chief and anyone
What| Checking the armor
Where| The labs
When| The day after getting out of medical
Warnings/Notes| -
The MJOLNIR suit lay on the table like a patient for autopsy as the Chief picked over it. They’d released him from medical and told him to take it easy for a few days, and after he’d slept and ate and confirmed (four times, with four different and increasingly exasperated people) that there was absolutely no way for him to communicate with Command, he’d immediately run out of activities that felt worthwhile.
This was as close as he could get to feeling productive and, given the alternative was just letting his thoughts spin, he’d take it.
The array of tools the Legion had at hand were beyond his imagination and, if he were honest, his comprehension. Someone would have to explain at least some of it to him if he were going to keep at it, but that was a bridge to cross when he’d gotten through with assessing the suit’s condition and seeing what actually needed work.
After cataloguing all the new surface damage, he took a step back to just look at this heap of metal. The Chief wasn’t a sentimental person about his equipment, or at least he didn’t think he was. Even so, standing here in another world with another unknown struggle yawning ahead, he realized just how much he appreciated the familiar machine that had kept him alive.
Something had changed. His perspective, maybe.
What| Checking the armor
Where| The labs
When| The day after getting out of medical
Warnings/Notes| -
The MJOLNIR suit lay on the table like a patient for autopsy as the Chief picked over it. They’d released him from medical and told him to take it easy for a few days, and after he’d slept and ate and confirmed (four times, with four different and increasingly exasperated people) that there was absolutely no way for him to communicate with Command, he’d immediately run out of activities that felt worthwhile.
This was as close as he could get to feeling productive and, given the alternative was just letting his thoughts spin, he’d take it.
The array of tools the Legion had at hand were beyond his imagination and, if he were honest, his comprehension. Someone would have to explain at least some of it to him if he were going to keep at it, but that was a bridge to cross when he’d gotten through with assessing the suit’s condition and seeing what actually needed work.
After cataloguing all the new surface damage, he took a step back to just look at this heap of metal. The Chief wasn’t a sentimental person about his equipment, or at least he didn’t think he was. Even so, standing here in another world with another unknown struggle yawning ahead, he realized just how much he appreciated the familiar machine that had kept him alive.
Something had changed. His perspective, maybe.
no subject
"Gladly. So - are you up to diagnostics yet, or still checking on the surface condition?"