☄ FEAR ME, LOVE ME, DO AS I SAY Nothing like the sound of crawling limbs in the morning, huh?
Niko was getting used to this shit, somehow. It had been freaky a year ago. Now? Just another day, just another walk. And the sad thing is? He's looking forward to it. The second he heard what was happening, he was ready to go back over there and help round up straggling crew.
The past month, quietly, internally, his self-loathing had built back up. It had reached a point where he needed to get it out. And it was always good when cannon fodder presented itself for venting that will for violence. All it took was a shift of thought, that he was going to fucking tear these pieces of shit off any crew member that he saw being attacked. He didn't give a damn. Yes, it would be risky, but he would be fucked if he watched any of his allies get into that kind of trouble.
He had a knife, a gun, and a few bottles of flammable liquid he'd collected from the cargo bay and a friendly neighborhood lighter so that he could make his own fun. He patrolled the corridor of the station slowly, wielding his carbine and a flashlight, looking for someone to join up with, or someone to save. Or something to wreck.
☄ DECONTAMINATION #2 He didn't leave until he'd at the very least cut off a lot of the progress out of those vents, freed whoever he could, went without sleep entirely too long.
But after one particularly unfortunate encounter, Niko had been left with gashes, claw marks, that they'd sank their fingers into. He'd loosely bandaged it, but after checking, discovered there wouldn't be much more he could do until they got back. Whatever it was, he was contaminated. They'd have to deal with it in the infirmary.
This left Niko standing there on the transport, using two hands to shield his business because the man had two-hands worth of job to hide there, and despite being built like a model in some adult magazine he wasn't what you'd call attractive in that moment. More like the escapee of a tense psychological horror film, the one that had climbed his way through pipes and tunnels and came out filthy and desperate for survival. He was slouching, sweating with an uncomfortable internal heat and chilled at the same time. His body was covered in several long, hastily bandaged wounds, some of them bleeding through the gauze. Those deep set eyes of his were ringed even darker for the fact he'd been awake too long.
If anyone reached out to help, offered, he would shake his head. Nothing that could be done until he got back. "So. You have a good time, too?" At least the piss poor pitiful condition he was left him without much of his usual bashfulness.
Niko Bellic
Nothing like the sound of crawling limbs in the morning, huh?
Niko was getting used to this shit, somehow. It had been freaky a year ago. Now? Just another day, just another walk. And the sad thing is? He's looking forward to it. The second he heard what was happening, he was ready to go back over there and help round up straggling crew.
The past month, quietly, internally, his self-loathing had built back up. It had reached a point where he needed to get it out. And it was always good when cannon fodder presented itself for venting that will for violence. All it took was a shift of thought, that he was going to fucking tear these pieces of shit off any crew member that he saw being attacked. He didn't give a damn. Yes, it would be risky, but he would be fucked if he watched any of his allies get into that kind of trouble.
He had a knife, a gun, and a few bottles of flammable liquid he'd collected from the cargo bay and a friendly neighborhood lighter so that he could make his own fun. He patrolled the corridor of the station slowly, wielding his carbine and a flashlight, looking for someone to join up with, or someone to save. Or something to wreck.
☄ DECONTAMINATION #2
He didn't leave until he'd at the very least cut off a lot of the progress out of those vents, freed whoever he could, went without sleep entirely too long.
But after one particularly unfortunate encounter, Niko had been left with gashes, claw marks, that they'd sank their fingers into. He'd loosely bandaged it, but after checking, discovered there wouldn't be much more he could do until they got back. Whatever it was, he was contaminated. They'd have to deal with it in the infirmary.
This left Niko standing there on the transport, using two hands to shield his business because the man had two-hands worth of job to hide there, and despite being built like a model in some adult magazine he wasn't what you'd call attractive in that moment. More like the escapee of a tense psychological horror film, the one that had climbed his way through pipes and tunnels and came out filthy and desperate for survival. He was slouching, sweating with an uncomfortable internal heat and chilled at the same time. His body was covered in several long, hastily bandaged wounds, some of them bleeding through the gauze. Those deep set eyes of his were ringed even darker for the fact he'd been awake too long.
If anyone reached out to help, offered, he would shake his head. Nothing that could be done until he got back. "So. You have a good time, too?" At least the piss poor pitiful condition he was left him without much of his usual bashfulness.
☄ General
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