First steps...

[alpha_series_zeta]

"Give us the girl." - "Come on, don't fight it. "- "AAAAH!" -" You killed Joshua you bastard!" - "TAKE HIM DOWN!" - "DADDY, NO!"

...

...

Drip...

Drip...

Drip...

He opens his eyes, slowly, just to squeeze them shut once again, for a throbbing pain spreads through his whole skull almost instantly. He blinks, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light coming from a bulb dangling above his head without a shade. His entire body feels crushed, as if every single bone in his being had been broken, the muscles sore, aching, almost screaming in agony when he tries to move his right arm. His hand knocks against a wall, his other starts to feel around too. Where is he? What is he doing here? And what is that piercing feeling in his chest, making every breath so hard and painful? A low inhuman groan escapes his lips, more the sound of an animal than that of a man and his ears feel like bursting from the noise even though it is almost inaudible.

Drip...

Drip...

Drip...

His eyes dart around, his body to weak to move, searching for the source of the annoying noise that woke him up, until he notices the water on his visor. He blinks again, wondering why there is water dripping on it but shrugs inwardly. He moves his right hand, the back of it facing him, muscles almost screaming, to stop the water from dripping down on him. He pauses, blinking confused as he catches sight of a symbol on the glove he wears - ζ, Zeta. He is sure he saw the symbol before but is unable to recall the where and when.
Seconds pass, minutes, while he just stares up at the lightbulb, trying to remember what happened before. He feels that it must have been something terrible. The void within him, the pain in his chest - he got separated. From someone important. Someone he wanted to protect with his life.
He concentrates all his power, moving his hand back to the ground, slowly managing to push himself up into a sitting position, groaning in pain while doing so. He loses his balance, falling to the side, sinking against the wall his hand knocked into earlier. Is there a wound? He moves his right hand down to his stomach, noticing how parts of the diving suit he is apparently wearing are torn. When the fingertips touch the skin underneath the protecting material he can't help but wince, the sound coming out as one of the deep monstrous groans. Yes, a wound. Somewhere in the back of his mind he can only recognize the pain as that kind you expect from an old actually healed deep cut.
More time passes while he just sits there, trying to regain more strength. Barely does he notice his surroundings. It almost looks like some kind of waste dump with trash, broken thinks all around him - just that it was apparently in the middle of a room or something similar...

He tries to stand up, supporting himself on the wall, while slowly moving his legs, pushing himself up, the helmet he is wearing scratching along the stone, adding more scratches to it. He remains standing, though shaking extremely. One step forward, two steps... he collapses again, falling facefirst unable to catch himself before he hits the wet floor. Water splashes. Another groan, escapes him - he can't stand the sound of it, hurting his ears.
He starts to crawl forward, inch for inch. He has to find his other half, this important person, he wanted to protect with his life...