Bytecraftninja

Dexter couldn't imagine his day getting much worse. Matter of fact he was finding it hard to imagine anything right at the moment. He was unsure how long the world had been black and shapeless, with only the faintest of voices and sensations reaching his frazzled head. For a split second of coherent thought he could remember the object that struck him in the arm and delivered the first knockout pulse. From that moment onward it was a slew of half-formed thoughts and far-off sounds and cold, hard sensations against his back and head. Being able to list off those feelings to begin with had to mean that he was awake on some subconscious level, b