dollars-virtues

[dollars-virtues]

ooc;; To add more muses and just make this a full multi... Or just stay to what I have. Oh, how I struggle!

[dollars-virtues]

❛   i don’t want to break their hearts all over again. it’s better if they never see me.  ❜  for HUNK

You are speaking to the wrong agent, Valentine. Despite this, the man offers only a sigh as he checks over his watch briefly. In truth, he isn't even an agent for Umbrella, though the stain of that reputation will always cling to his very CORE.

Yet here she is, Jill Valentine, out in broad daylight despite the fact she has been apparently registered as 'MISSING'. Shifting from one foot to the other, the masked man finally speaks, graveled and lacking any sort of tone. She has no need for sass, and he isn't about to sass her either.

"So you came to this island to hide. From your files, this isn't like you Valentine."

[dollars-virtues]

Specify muse

&. 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  an  assortment  of  short  and  angsty  dialogue  prompts.  feel  free  to  change  and  edit  as  you  seem  fit.  )  

❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜

❛ i’ll never be that me again. ❜

❛ you can still be good. ❜

❛ i thought you’d be here. ❜

❛ don’t act like you know me. ❜

❛ because i care about you, okay? ❜

❛ it wasn’t supposed to end like this. ❜

❛ i was scared. i thought you had lost your way. ❜

❛ am i supposed to just let you go? ❜

❛ you deserve better than me. ❜

❛ don’t make me do this. ❜

❛ i’m not who you think i am. ❜

❛ you don’t mean that. ❜

❛ please just hold me. ❜

❛ i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay. ❜

❛ and why should i care? ❜

❛ you look awful. ❜

❛ i can’t do this without you. ❜

❛ don’t let me lose you too. ❜

❛ for what it’s worth, i really am sorry. ❜

❛ it’s not your fault. ❜

❛ i don’t know who i am anymore. ❜

❛ is this the part where you kick me out? ❜

❛ don’t we deserve to be happy? ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

❛ you can’t save everyone. ❜

❛ it was a nightmare, that’s all. ❜

❛ it’s just a scratch, don’t worry. ❜

❛ you know me better than i know myself. ❜

❛ don’t go where i can’t follow. ❜

❛ you’re better off without me. ❜

❛ we all die alone. ❜

❛ people get hurt if they get too close to me. ❜

❛ i hate what i’ve become. ❜

❛ i’m not going anywhere. ❜

❛ is there anything i can do to help? ❜

❛ i don’t even recognize you anymore. ❜

❛ who did this to you? ❜

❛ please don’t leave me. ❜

❛ oh, now you care? ❜

❛ don’t come any closer! ❜

❛ i missed you so much. ❜

❛ you don’t have to say anything. ❜

❛ do you want me to leave? ❜

❛ why are you avoiding me? ❜

❛ you could have died, you know. ❜

❛ i wish you were here. ❜

❛ you’re not alone. i’m staying right here. ❜

❛ i can be your family. ❜

❛ of course i’m here. where else would i be? ❜

❛ we just can’t seem to get it right, huh? ❜

❛ don’t look at me like that. ❜

❛ don’t push me away again. ❜

❛ this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. ❜

❛ you’re leaving already? ❜

❛ this was a mistake. ❜

❛ can’t sleep? ❜

[dollars-virtues]

Cigarettes held a memory, of stress, of relaxation, of times that where his skin and hide were on the line far too many times to count. Each inhale is with purpose for the end goal, for the itch of addiction to be swayed for the time being, a way of passing the time as his body coils and readies for whatever may come. "I follow where the money goes." Which could elude to a lot of things. It verified, although vaguely, that something was indeed important and he was hired for this particular mission for that exact reason. It also revealed that he isn't as silent as many like to assume. He is merely short-worded, that's all. A man of little words, as actions hold far more weight to him.

As long as you don't die... As if he could. Every single mission, he has come out as the only survivor, perhaps luck, perhaps fate- Or perhaps he wasn't an entire dumbass that rushed into situations and was smart enough to keep his hide intact. Another inhale and he purposely blows the smoke into the man's direction, watching as it twirls about the air and joins the other's own trail up above. "I haven't died yet."

The Reaper, Mr. Death, and so many other nicknames were practically why he is so well known, yet his life and everything beneath the suit remained a mystery. The cigarette isn't going to last long, and neither is this conversation, but it's one he'll keep in mind at the very least. The man clearly is amused by this as well, they both seem to watch and take note of the details provided by the other.

Eventually, Hunk speaks again, his tone remaining monotone yet graveled all the same. "I have no doubt you know what is going on, more than most here." Everyone, for the most part, was playing checkers compared to Wesker's little mental game of 4-D Chess but he doesn't care about that too much. Everyone has their own hands of cards and their own skeletons that filled their closets. Wesker is far from an exception to that.

   Steadily,  Wesker inhaled.  Sharing the heat until it catches,  growing its glow,  a fading pulse as their cigarettes separate,  spirals of smoke joining each other,  shapelessly,  above the two.  Tailoring the first to suit his tolerance,  letting it not singe the throat on the way in.  It tastes pungent,  it tastes like many pasts;  pasts belonging to the smoking areas in restaurants,  or in the channels of Umbrella buildings exhaling through a window,  pasts belonging to cop bars lone counter ash tray speared to the brim with crushed filters. 

   This close,  Wesker could determine a few things.  Nothing important.  These petty,  trivial things that all humans have.  Their flesh and their lives,  for however brief a time.  But to say he felt no satisfaction when his demand amused the agent,  that just wasn’t true.  Satisfaction for causing the smirk and for satiating a bit of his curiosity.

   “Noted,”  a gray word,  blown sharply away.  The fog between them,  thin and only thinning faster than can be replenished by this leisurely pace,  taking a personality of its own.  Curling up about Wesker’s lips,  climbing into,  around his sunglasses,  wispy vines reaching toward the ceiling.  It gave the impression of playfulness,  nearly did the restful parting of his mouth appear like a smile,  as curlicued and as subtle as a feline.

    “Someone important must be arriving,”  he starts.  “For you to be here.  Or something.  I suppose they have finally come to their senses.”  Wesker looked above,  adding to it,  this smoke.  “They hired cheaper hands,  previously.  Cut the fat,  and you and yours were included in the trimming.  That last batch of grunts were annihilated by a single infiltrator.  Poor show,  indeed.”  Another inhale.  “As long as you don’t die,  they might not make the mistake of being so stingy with the security of their projects in the future.”

[dollars-virtues]

just  a  𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜  𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙨𝙚  full  of  𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐃,  and  this  body’s  almost  spent.      #moldcursed.    ⸻    ETHAN  WINTERS  of  the  resident  evil  franchise.  penned  by  grace.

[dollars-virtues]

Piers Nivan's Verses

I'M NOT GOING TO LOSE YOU!----A verse where, despite the initially perceived death, Chris sent in a rescue squad immediately after to try and at least find the remains of Piers so he could get a true, hero's burial. What he found instead was a barely alive Piers, who had completely mutated. Despite this, Chris attempts to contain him, unable to put him down in this state as the grief is too much.

Tag: verse;; Losing Dogs ︻デ═一 (Bad AU Ending)

SECOND CHANCES----Similar to the above verse, but Piers managed to fight the virus and keep his intellect about him even more. It did not take over his entire body and he was able to be surgically repaired with prosethetics and several years of recovery. This is a Resident Evil: Village Timeline verse.

tag: verse;; Second Chances ︻デ═一 (Resident Evil: Village)

WHAT EVEN IS THIS, CAPTAIN?!----A verse where Piers ends up in the realm much as the rest of the operatives from Resident Evil do, however... He's not a survivor. Trapped in a time-locked state of the C-Virus, Piers is forced to kill innocent lives for eternity as a killer.

Tag: verse;; Running Hearts ︻デ═一 (Dead by Daylight)

BSSA AND PROUD!---- Resident Evil pre-death timeline. This can range from his prior missions, to just up until his demise in Resident Evil 6.

Tag: verse;; We made an Oath to protect people! ︻デ═一 (Pre-Death)

[dollars-virtues]

HUNK VERSES

PAYMENT IN BLOOD----HUNK has found himself within the confines of the Entity's Realm and grasp. He doesn't care, however, as it's merely another mission to him. He gets paid n blood rather than cold cash, but the results are the same. He is there to do a job, and there are not going to be any survivors other than Mr. Death himself. Perhaps that's due to the fact he's the one holding the blade...

Tag: verse;; Payment in Blood ︻デ═一 (Dead by Daylight)

BARKING SNARLS AND DEATHS KNOCKING----Every mission, canonical timeline event, and the last update on HUNK will be featured in this verse. He is just a mercenary for hire, to the highest dollar. He is not loyal to Umbrella, it just so happens they line his wallets enough for him not to care.

tag: verse;; Barking Snarls and Deaths Knocking ︻デ═一 (Resident Evil)

OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN----HUNK works for the betterment of humanity after being convinced by Chris Redfield. Call it a change of heart, he turns a new leaf and begins to take the missions for the Private ANTI B.O.W and eventually the BSSA. Prior to this, he was a mercenary for hire like normal.

Tag: verse;; Other Side of the Coin ︻デ═一 (BSSA AU)

ANOTHER CONTRACT----Similar to the AU, HUNK works for, at first, the BSSA, but after the corruption as well as several events leading up to Chris leaving it? HUNK is recruited into the HOUND Wolf Squad. He listens to Chris, carrying out select missions and keeping his namesake despite the turn of leaf.

Tag: verse;; Another Contract ︻デ═一 (Resident Evil: Village)

[dollars-virtues]

Specify muse and Verse.

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ]   .

headcanon prompts with questions based on plants   &   what they represent in flower language .  happy roleplaying !!  ♡

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

acanthus :   is your muse deceptive ,   or willing to lie or deceive to achieve certain means ?   why or why not ?   

aloe :   how does your muse handle grief ?

amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   

anemone :   how does your muse view the world ;   as a cruel   &   unforgiving place ,   a land full of wonders ,   or something in - between ?  where does that world view come from   (   what experiences ,   life lessons ,   etc .   ) ?  

angelica :   where does your muse draw inspiration in life ?   what motivates them ?

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?  

bachelor’s button :   does your muse actively seek romantic companionship ,   or cherish the liberties of being single ? 

basil :   does your muse have a love - hate relationship with anyone or anything ?

bay tree :   does your muse seek glory   &   accolades ,   or do they favour a simpler ,   more personal life ?  

begonia :   how cautious is your muse ?   are they prone to noticing red flags ,   or paranoid to the point of untrusting most everyone ?   why or why not ?  

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?   

bluebell :   does your muse learn from their past ,   or are they prone to repeating the same mistakes ?  

carnation :   what is your muse’s relationship with their gender ?   how do they express or not express this relationship ?  

chamomile :   what is your muse likely to take away from a painful experience ?   are they one to be haunted by adversity ,   or to use what they’ve gone through to become stronger ?  

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

daisy :   did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost ?   what moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence ?  

edelweiss :   what was the bravest moment in your muse’s life ?  are they known to be courageous from then on ?  

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?  

forget - me - not :   has your muse ever forgotten something that is or was important to them ?   are they afraid of forgetting things like that ?  

gardenia :   is your muse one to confess romantic feelings early on ,   or to conceal them for long periods of time ?  

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  

heliotrope :   does your muse believe in soulmates ?

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?  

holly :   how strong is your muse’s sense of intuition ?  are they aware of it ?   do they ever fear that it is only paranoia ?  

hollyhock :   how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ?  what’s something they strive for in life ?  

hyacinth :   is your muse athletic ?   does it come naturally to them ,   or have they had to work for their physique and/or skill ?  

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

iris :   if your muse could convey one last message to someone they have lost or left behind ,   what would it be ?  

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?

lavender :   how easy is it to gain your muse’s trust ?  once their trust is broken ,   how might one go about mending it ?  

lilac :   what was your muse’s childhood like ?   how has their upbringing affected them as they’ve aged ? 

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

lotus :   has your muse ever felt as though they’ve been reborn ?  have they ever desired the feeling of a fresh start ,   or a better understanding of themself and/or the world around them ?  

magnolia :   describe your muse’s relationship with nature   &   the natural world .  

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?  what do these words mean to them ?

nasturtium :   describe your muse’s relationship with their birthplace ,   or homeland .  

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?  

pansy :   does your muse often reflect on their own actions ?   do they ever think a lot about the past ,   and what they could have done differently ?

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

poppy :   what comforts your muse ?

rhododendron :   is your muse receptive to warnings   &   advice given by others ?

rose :   how much does your muse value other people ?   do they wish to have many friends ,   lovers ,   and/or associates ?   are they an easy person to love ?

sage :   what is your muse’s legacy ?   what do they want to be remembered for   &   what might they actually be remembered for ?  

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ? 

snapdragon :   is your muse merciful ?  why or why not ?

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  

sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ?  

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

violet :   how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

willow :   how does your muse handle sadness   &   depression ?

zinnia :   how has the loss of fallen comrades and/or loved ones affected your muse ?   has it taught them anything or given them any new perspectives ?

[dollars-virtues]

His silvery trim is noted of age, strands of grey, white, and peppering throughout and masked by scars across his jawline and cheeks from what little can be seen. Swaddled in blackened gear, it's no longer as blank of a slate as most assume. Whether they believe him to be the actual grim reaper or death himself is irrelevant. Beneath the mask was a man, just like any other. He has no delusions of grandeur and rising above his own being. He's a man, seeking his next dollar, carrying his team, and dealing with the fact they all die every single GODDAMN time.

In truth, it is mostly because it was unneeded, but the man beneath the codename? He was very good at covering his tracks for any recognition. If the man did not want to be found? He wouldn't be found. Not many can say that in this world, not many are good enough of keeping their heads down low to where if he were to take the mask off and walk down a public street? No one would know it was him, and he liked that.

When the man daringly speaks, wanting to be lit, there is a brief moment of amusement as his lips curve into a smirk. What was he, your maid, Albert? Still, he decides to indulge it as he steps closer, not bothering to pull a lighter out. No, instead he leans in, pressing the tip of his lit cigarette to the man's as he breathes out.

"You should carry a lighter on you, Wesker." It's all he says once the cigarette is lit, backing up and taking a long inhale of his own.

 A blank slate certainly,  a featureless implement to project ideas onto.  Wesker wondered what employers past imagined of this agent,  what they projected,  their secret,  private wishes.  A ghastly pale creature?  An ageless and swarthy dandy?  His own theories began to rear,  to be snubbed,  erased,  preferring to discover the truth with his own eyes,  to capture what details become unhidden on this blank slate.  What flesh is there,  the weather on it,  the hue,  the state;  the scars whose marks his eyes cannot follow for they disappear into the mask;  the shimmer of the cigarette fire when it passes red over silvery hair strands,  attempting to know its texture from this distance, in this light.

   He appreciated the dedication to anonymity,  granted that H.U.N.K.’s was not the result of coincidence,  a miraculous career of having never been seen by peers or adversaries simply because the need never arose,  and not because it was avoided.  A corner of Wesker’s lips twitched.

   “Do I sound ungrateful?”  Balancing the cigarette between his knuckles,  hovering it near his face,  the other arm folding across his stomach to rest his elbow atop.  As for sounding ungrateful,  perhaps not,  but the discovery question was frigid in a way.  A difficult little inflection.  Something in him wanted to know in earnest what the mercenary thought.  Largely,  he did not care about the answer itself,  only that it might provide insight of him.

   The filter hovered by the long line of his lips,  enveloped in heady memory with a whiff of the still unlit tobacco,  and of glove leather,  nostalgic smells supplanting déjà vu of other times like this one, times where incomplete work was nagging at the back of the mind while trying to have a moment of smoke-thick peace.

    “Light me,”  Wesker says,  clasping his lips over the end,  amusement behind the shades thinking of the weight of his own lighter lined in his inner jacket pocket. 

[dollars-virtues]

I love DEEP CONVERSATIONS. Discussions in which our muses reflect on loaded topics like the future, death, their most passionate of ambitions, mistakes that they deeply regret, identity struggles, unexpressed fears, and more. Lighthearted and carefree threads are always great, but I also love threads that allow muses to explore parts of themselves that are typically hidden from those around them. 

[dollars-virtues]

@superiordna

cont;; thread:

Wasting no time in leaving to the break room, he takes the time to note any cameras or anyone present, and when satisfied? Gloved hands lift to unclip the mask, being careful to only lift it up to the extent where it shoved his lips and jawline. There was hair, silvered, and scars alongside the skin that can be seen. Otherwise? It's a blank slate. When the man eventually joins and seems to be curious about the offer, the cigarette is produced as he places one to his lips, and another out for Wesker to take.

It isn't even in the records what HUNK's gender is, face, name, ethnicity... Anything. He doubts even Wesker himself knows. It's one of the many mysteries and yet it works, for all involved. With a sharp inhale and quick lit to the tip of the cancer stick, HUNK can finally settle his own nerves.

"You know," The man for hire begins, his tone as monotone as ever, "I don't typically offer anything. So I wouldn't go questioning it. Just take the cigarette." Of course, he could have gone in a more private area, but given he was on guard as well as still in the conversation with this ego-maniac? Might as well cut his own losses and just accept the banter and begrudging temperament between the both of them.

[dollars-virtues]

This god-complex, overzealous, egotistical, pay-check-giving asshole is not his type to chatter with. He would rather butt heads with Nikolai than continue hearing the prattling woes of this man who wishes to be a God. What is a God to Death? What is a God to a Non-Believer? At the end of the day, he still bleeds, he still feels, and despite the rumors of Wesker's origins? He is by definition still human. The cigarette break is getting all the more tempting as he shifts his attire a bit, dully looking onward as he only briefly takes note of which paper is grabbed, before he grunts out a sigh.

It's not as if he is a bible thumper, nor is he over-religious to begin with, but something about a man wanting to become a God just screams for something terrible to happen to him. Like his feathers burning as he reaches far too closely towards the sun, plummeting down into a boiling demise below.

It's something that brings a wry smile beneath the mask before he starts to walk off to the side. "Your goal is to become a God, then you might want to lose the human suit. I doubt you smoke, but I'm going on a break."

@dollars-virtues​ || H.U.N.K.

   “Make no mistake,”  hand lifting to his chin,  nearly touching,  examining the corkboard of information on the wall,  as he had been when first compelled to speak.  “I do not disagree with that sentiment.  Not at all.”  A paper was pulled from the assortment of them,  selected after long contemplation. 

  “These stories came from somewhere,  as all do. Some grain of truth to them,  then.  It stands to reason,  in all of history,  that there was once an extraordinary man.  A man that inspired,  a man that brought about an unprecedented change,  a man that threw his people into torment.  A man whose miraculous feats made myth,  and that myth made a man a god.  

   “But even if this fictional man was our dear Prometheus,  he would dead by now,  just like you say.  We are in a godless time.”  Wesker considers this in a sudden repose,  then:  “Perhaps history is long overdue,  then… Long overdue for a man to once again make himself a god.”

[dollars-virtues]

Independant, non-mutual exclusive Multi-Muse from the Resident Evil/Biohazard/&&Stranger Things Franchises. Independent, features lore from all media attributed from the muses. Penned by Rai, 29+

Blog will feature the following branching themes: Death, gore, obsession, body horror, violence, medical malpractice, bio weapons, the exploration of guilt and grief, life in the states in the 70's/80s, && more

No Minors!

[dollars-virtues]

❛ prometheus gave us light, and warmth, and eternal damnation. ❜ from @superiordna for hunk. i'm sorry he's like this he would 100% talk this way

HUNK listens to the man blather on, standing accordingly as he contemplates a smoke break. The poem of Prometheus rings in his ears then, recites it mentally as the other seems to drone on and on.

Titan! to whose immortal eyes

         The sufferings of mortality,

         Seen in their sad reality,

Were not as things that gods despise;

What was thy pity's recompense?

The poem plays in his head as he remains standing, cold eyes looking onward as the man is finally drowned out by the praises poetry of the soul.

A silent suffering, and intense;

The rock, the vulture, and the chain,

All that the proud can feel of pain,

The agony they do not show,

The suffocating sense of woe,

         Which speaks but in its loneliness,

And then is jealous lest the sky

Should have a listener, nor will sigh

         Until its voice is echoless.

It carries on and on until it dwells into nothingness and his ears ring with a recognition that the man has stopped talking. Breathing out, HUNK looks over at Wesker with a masked frown.

"Someone needed to be an English professor or have a Philosophical degree. Sir, our only damnation is of our own hands. Nothing more, nothing less. There are no Gods to bring warmth. They are long since dead, decayed in space, and forgotten."

Poem credit:

[dollars-virtues]

       writing & roleplay sideblog   |   dash only

   albert wesker   |  rules  &  verses

[dollars-virtues]

❛   i’m here because you can’t accept what you’ve done. it broke you.  ❜  to Piers

It broke him alright. Tendrils shift uncomfortably as he moves about his cell for a moment. The extra limbs are still foreign to him, but he's managed well enough despite it. Finally, he looks over at her, his malformed face offering a sad smile of sorts.

Jill Valentine, a dear friend of the BSAA and of Chris. His memories may be slipping here and there, but he's got enough sentience for small conversations on most days.

With a garbled voice that was distorted and far from human anymore, Piers speaks.

"̶G̴o̶o̴d̴ ̴t̷o̵ ̷s̵e̷e̶ ̸y̸o̶u̸ ̴t̴o̷o̶ ̵J̷i̸l̴l̸.̸.̸.̸ ̶B̸u̸t̴ ̶y̸o̴u̴'̶r̶e̶ ̷w̷r̸o̶n̵g̸.̶ ̵I̴ ̵a̷c̸c̴e̵p̴t̶e̴d̴ ̶i̴t̸ ̶t̶h̴e̷ ̷m̴o̸m̸e̴n̶t̴ ̵I̷ ̷p̵u̸t̷ ̶t̴h̵e̶ ̸s̷y̶r̵i̸n̴g̴e̶ ̵i̶n̴.̴ ̶I̸ ̷d̸i̸d̷ ̶i̸t̶ ̶f̵o̵r̷ ̴t̵h̷e̸.̶.̸.̵.̴ ̸B̶S̴A̴A̶.̷.̵.̵ ̷T̴o̴ ̶s̸a̷v̸e̴ ̷e̸v̵e̸r̸y̷o̷n̸e̵.̷"̷

[dollars-virtues]

❛   if i could make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places.  ❜  - for Piers

He has his mind, on most days... As he stares ahead with a vacant, mutated gaze, he briefly wonders if he is to blame for Chris's current sorrows. The state of his body was reminiscent of HAOS, though he actually had legs, and his face wasn't just a skull in some goo. It's still monstrous, the way his face is split, the damages to his body having changed him severely. Piers recalls the last fight, the way he helped Chris get out of the underwater base and resigned himself to his own death.

The death was supposed to be feasible, he didn't expect the virus to surge through and protect his body. Not when it was actively killing him when he was first injected with it, but here he was, broken down into a form that was far from human. Tendrils twirl and convulse as electricity spark off of his form. If one could describe him as an animal, it would be something akin to a mantis shrimp, his once normal arms multiplying and the mutated ones being capable of sending shockwaves of horrendous strength.

His size was near triple in this form and yet he doesn't attack, having enough sentience to remain there in the confines of his imprisonment. The BSAA wanted to kill him, he can't blame them, he did it for them... But Chris isn't letting him go. It hurts to see him anguished over this. There is a garbled sigh finally as his eyes open, looking at his Captain as he speaks.

"Y̸o̶u̴ ̶s̷h̵o̷u̶l̷d̴n̸'̸t̷ ̵w̶a̷n̵t̷ ̷t̷h̵a̷t̸,̴ ̴C̷a̶p̸t̷a̷i̵n̸.̶"