Post-core ornery
Trix opened her eye. Everything hurt. Her head, her back, her... arms. She twitched her fingers and felt them respond. So. Human again. She grimaced up at the ceiling, which was a lot farther away than it had been.
It was hard to think past the shooting pains in her skull and neck and what she could remember was pretty much all terrible. Well, no. That brief encounter with Blu had been soothing, but for the most part she was just embarrassed. Other cores managed to go for years and decades without having any problems and she'd had a complete meltdown in less than 24 hours. What did that say about her?
Groaning, she dragged herself into a sitting position. She was still in the hall where she'd yelled at Katt. The lighting seemed to be back to normal and she hadn't managed to override enough systems to dump turrets and bombs everywhere, so maybe everything would be fine. OK, there were a lot of superfluous checkpoints, now, but those would be easy enough to dismantle. If Wheatley was still locked up with the others it was possible no one had even noticed anything. Good.
With enough pushing and grunting she finally managed to get upright. Mostly. By bracing against the wall. She checked the corridor and found it blissfully empty. She was furious with herself for failing something so easy. She was also furious with Katt for dragging her feet on testing and implying she couldn't do her job.
Trix rubbed the back of her neck. It felt raw. She glared up at the port she'd been on, wondering if that was to blame. She was angry at everything. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed with the lights off and forget the rest of the world. Forever.
"I'm s-still good at m'job," she croaked.
Heaving a sigh, she turned and shuffled in the direction of her room. Some day she'd find a system to keep the Grayfaces out, but for now, she was too exhausted to see straight. With a little more luck she'd make it to bed without any more incidents.
