Matt's sensitive ears are still ringing when he senses someone looming near him, putting their hands on him, and he goes to strike out on reflex before he recognizes her voice. "Sif?" He leans against her, good arm slung around her shoulders, and she feels reassuringly solid and strong under his touch, a touchstone as he slowly gets his bearings back. Thank God.
"Sif, the convoy, we have to protect it," he says, only now becoming aware that he's lost one of his batons, his injured arm no longer willing to hold anything. But he's still clutching the other one in a white-knuckled grip, and he's on his feet, and they have to protect the payload or everyone is fucked. He can deal with being injured later, right? He's got one arm working, he can still fight.
Everything else is just noise, still, and he tries to narrow down his focus. ...there! There's the snowmobile, its engine roaring as Furiosa spurs it on, getting the hell out of the warzone that's erupted all around them. Matt turns his head in that direction, listening for sounds of pursuit. "We have to help."
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"Sif, the convoy, we have to protect it," he says, only now becoming aware that he's lost one of his batons, his injured arm no longer willing to hold anything. But he's still clutching the other one in a white-knuckled grip, and he's on his feet, and they have to protect the payload or everyone is fucked. He can deal with being injured later, right? He's got one arm working, he can still fight.
Everything else is just noise, still, and he tries to narrow down his focus. ...there! There's the snowmobile, its engine roaring as Furiosa spurs it on, getting the hell out of the warzone that's erupted all around them. Matt turns his head in that direction, listening for sounds of pursuit. "We have to help."