[He can feel the alarm in Qubit's voice as it rings through his ears, loud and terrible and alerting him to a problem he's all too aware exists. His eyes remain the shelf to his left, focusing on the details of each and every mechanical piece there as though they'd help him distance himself from -- well, himself. As a result, his voice is steady, tempered -- forcibly so -- as he lists off individuals and their injuries, trying not to picture the horror on their faces, memorizing the bits of machinery instead.]
A man named Kieran. Eyes removed. Reformed, but nonfunctional. I was interrupted. [Two buttons, a black top, three wires. More on the other side, perhaps.] One fellow I didn't quite know, Ben. He could- manifest tentacles from somewhere. I couldn't see where. [The arm of one of the constructs from the baths. Removed purposefully, or debris from one being destroyed?] Deputy Pratt called me. He sustained injuries trying to- trying to h-help me. [Something that looks like a construct's hand. Metal skeleton, not enough fingers, flesh rotted away—
The image of Pratt's hand, the skin peeling away from necrosis, dances before his eyes; the light of them grows unfocused for the span of a breath. He described his misstep in how much he could manage as an amateur mistake; however, given what he now is and what he is capable of, it's far more than that. He feels his irritation with himself hot in the back of his throat -- his voice grates, his nose (or what's left of the skin around it) wrinkling beneath his mask as he continues.]
I sustained myself in my work by unconsciously reaching into the trees around us. They- they were decayed when I realized, already dead. It could have been them. It could have been any one of them.
no subject
A man named Kieran. Eyes removed. Reformed, but nonfunctional. I was interrupted. [Two buttons, a black top, three wires. More on the other side, perhaps.] One fellow I didn't quite know, Ben. He could- manifest tentacles from somewhere. I couldn't see where. [The arm of one of the constructs from the baths. Removed purposefully, or debris from one being destroyed?] Deputy Pratt called me. He sustained injuries trying to- trying to h-help me. [Something that looks like a construct's hand. Metal skeleton, not enough fingers, flesh rotted away—
The image of Pratt's hand, the skin peeling away from necrosis, dances before his eyes; the light of them grows unfocused for the span of a breath. He described his misstep in how much he could manage as an amateur mistake; however, given what he now is and what he is capable of, it's far more than that. He feels his irritation with himself hot in the back of his throat -- his voice grates, his nose (or what's left of the skin around it) wrinkling beneath his mask as he continues.]
I sustained myself in my work by unconsciously reaching into the trees around us. They- they were decayed when I realized, already dead. It could have been them. It could have been any one of them.