Keep calm and carry on

[always_alert]

WHO: Red Alert, Skyfire, Vector Prime, and possibly other former-robots.
WHERE: Somewhere a few blocks away from the Porter. Red honestly has no idea where he is.
WHEN: Friday, 9/21.
WARNINGS: Gratuitous amounts of robot-turned-human issues.
SUMMARY: Red Alert is not taking his abduction from his reality well.
FORMAT: Paragraph to begin, whatever the other taggers want afterward.

Nearly three days ago, Red Alert had been suffering from brain-damage so severe that it lead him to believe everyone in the universe (and the universe itself) was actively seeking to do him harm. Now, he's beginning to wonder whether or not those delusions were entirely without basis, because his current situation highly suggests that the universe does---in fact---hate him.

For the second time in less than a week, he's found himself lost, disoriented, lacking a great deal of his mental faculties, and suffering an unreasonable amount of head-pain. To make matters worse, he's also been kidnapped from his reality, forced into a tiny, fragile alien body, and dropped into an entirely new universe, which also seems to hate him, since it welcomed him into the City with what was quite possibly the worst bout of sensory-overload he has ever experienced in his extremely long life.

He would really be more off-put by these events if he could actually comprehend them, but alas, the dreadful combination of shock and sensory-overload has made it all but impossible for him to form or recognize any thought more complex than “keep breathing” and “find someplace quiet.” Which is, in a way, a small blessing. If he could actually consciously recognize what had just happened to him, he would probably have a nervous-breakdown, or a panic-attack, or some other highly unpleasant (but completely justified) acute-stress reaction. However, since he's numb from shock and mentally-indisposed thanks to the sensory-overload, he won't have to suffer though that world-shattering revelation for some time yet.

For now, his most pressing concern is to find someplace quiet so that he can actually hear himself think, and to not wander into traffic as he does so. Both tasks are surprisingly difficult, and more than once he has to stop in the middle of his trek to get his breathing back under-control, or to allow his over-burdened mind time to adjust to his slight change in location. Unfortunately, once such interruption occurs as he's crossing the street, and he stops dead in his tracks, his dilated, blood-shot eyes staring sightlessly into space as his mind struggles to process and make sense of all the data it's being bombarded with.