The back of Matt's head thumps loudly against the wall when Frank puts him down and he winces, one hand moving halfway up before he decides the pain shooting up his arm is too great to bother bracing himself. He starts to slump when Frank stops supporting him which isn't a good sign, but his legs shift as he tries to steady himself. He's conscious, at least, but his eyes when he can keep them open look a little glazed over as everything comes in and out of focus.

He winces when the elevator starts moving. All the cogs, the pulleys and the magnets that make their metal box work chugging away. If he didn't feel like throwing up before, as soon as the gravity seems to slip away from under his feet he thought he might have thrown something up.

Oh, no. That's just what coughing air out of his lungs is supposed to feel like. He's fine.

The liquid in his inner ears is probably gurgling and screaming in protest as he stumbles out of the elevator, falling against Frank, trying to push the marine away with one hand groggily while the other goes to where he's bleeding through the jumpsuit.

He doesn't know where he is yet, but every fibre of Matthew Murdock's being hates space.