A dull, throbbing ache pulsed through Simon's skull as consciousness began to creep back in.
His eyelids felt heavy, as though weighed down by lead, but he forced them open, blinking against the dim light filtering through the cracked ceiling above.
Pain radiated through his body, sharp and unrelenting. His limbs refused to cooperate, trembling under the weight of exhaustion.
The familiar metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, and as he shifted slightly, he felt the sticky warmth of it clinging to his skin.
For a moment, he didn't remember where he was, or why every inch of his body screamed in protest. But then it hit him like a thunderclap. The base. The hybrid. The fight.
He groaned, lifting a shaky hand to his face. His fingertips brushed against dried blood and grime. He didn't need a mirror to know he looked like hell.
Forcing himself to sit up, Simon surveyed the room.