Pixel's gaze swept the battle station, ensuring the coast is clear. Just barely, she escaped Logan's pocket, giving herself enough space to breathe.
"Logan, come on, get up!" she yelled, beating her fist against his back.
She was met only with violent convulsions, Logan's spine eating the force from an incoming pulse of energy.
Randomly, Logan's body would spin on the floor, gliding across its material—like someone had punched him. Then, again, except, in the opposite direction.
"Gragggghhhh!" he roared, taking a blow to the chest. "Gyyaaaahhhh!" he bellowed again, this time, reacting to an impulse from the back.
It was like a bunch of transparent men were kicking him, refusing to let him get up. With each attack, the jagged edges of what used to be Logan's bones would stab through skin even further—blood spraying from exposed arteries.
