[ Being groggy and disoriented is never ideal, but it's not like this is the first time it's happened to him. That's just what life throws at you sometimes. The surgery is new, but--
his chest glows blue for a moment and that is more than enough to wake him up
Amos can feel his heart pounding, wild eyes searching around the poorly lit safehouse. Instinctively, he reaches for the proto-- whatever it is in his chest, his brain telling him there's no point, he's dead already, and yet still he tries to get a grip on it, rip it out like if he can get it off of him fast enough he won't be infected anymore, might have a chance at survival.
It doesn't work and he's not used to feeling anything at this intensity, but then again, this was never the death he imagined for himself. ]
Help! Somebody, help!
[ And that's an unfamiliar word, yelled with an unfamiliar urgency. Normally he'd be more composed about all of this. But he knows firsthand what the protomolecule can do, and he doesn't know what else this blue shit could possibly be, just that it's guaranteed bad news and this was maybe the one straw that would break his back. ]
> history lessons
[ Typically he wouldn't even care, but he's out and about and not particularly interested in socializing, and he'd stumbled on stands with information, the neural implant is handy and... well.
A war against AI is certainly interesting. He couldn't even comprehend something on this scale. Alex would have loved it on the Roci, he thinks, and cracks a smile, gives a sharp bark of laughter at a video that you're probably not supposed to laugh at.
Amos catches someone's eye at that. ] What? [ He switches back to an amiable, empty smile. ]
> fight club
[ He's not sure how he ended up here. Just the byproduct of aimless wandering, lost in thought, and his body naturally taking him to where he figures he'd fit in best.
Amos looks up at the ring, watching someone's face get caved in. He looks thoughtful for a moment; can feel a dull throbbing in his neck, something about being in this new world. This could help.
But then he remembers his family isn't here, he's all alone, and maybe trying to kick someone's ass for no real reason isn't the best idea. Who knows what else that could lead to. And if he's responsible for his own choices now, this might not be a good one to make.
Amos looks out around the crowd scattered throughout the facility, bewildered and lost. ]
amos burton | the expanse
[ Being groggy and disoriented is never ideal, but it's not like this is the first time it's happened to him. That's just what life throws at you sometimes. The surgery is new, but--
his chest glows blue for a moment and that is more than enough to wake him up
Amos can feel his heart pounding, wild eyes searching around the poorly lit safehouse. Instinctively, he reaches for the proto-- whatever it is in his chest, his brain telling him there's no point, he's dead already, and yet still he tries to get a grip on it, rip it out like if he can get it off of him fast enough he won't be infected anymore, might have a chance at survival.
It doesn't work and he's not used to feeling anything at this intensity, but then again, this was never the death he imagined for himself. ]
Help! Somebody, help!
[ And that's an unfamiliar word, yelled with an unfamiliar urgency. Normally he'd be more composed about all of this. But he knows firsthand what the protomolecule can do, and he doesn't know what else this blue shit could possibly be, just that it's guaranteed bad news and this was maybe the one straw that would break his back. ]
> history lessons
[ Typically he wouldn't even care, but he's out and about and not particularly interested in socializing, and he'd stumbled on stands with information, the neural implant is handy and... well.
A war against AI is certainly interesting. He couldn't even comprehend something on this scale. Alex would have loved it on the Roci, he thinks, and cracks a smile, gives a sharp bark of laughter at a video that you're probably not supposed to laugh at.
Amos catches someone's eye at that. ] What? [ He switches back to an amiable, empty smile. ]
> fight club
[ He's not sure how he ended up here. Just the byproduct of aimless wandering, lost in thought, and his body naturally taking him to where he figures he'd fit in best.
Amos looks up at the ring, watching someone's face get caved in. He looks thoughtful for a moment; can feel a dull throbbing in his neck, something about being in this new world. This could help.
But then he remembers his family isn't here, he's all alone, and maybe trying to kick someone's ass for no real reason isn't the best idea. Who knows what else that could lead to. And if he's responsible for his own choices now, this might not be a good one to make.
Amos looks out around the crowd scattered throughout the facility, bewildered and lost. ]