NO.2: "Acrylamide" {P} Forgivencrimes

[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]Encyclopedia paranoiaca was busy, The shaky tom was busy. He had a hard hat on. The tom carefully and quite frantically worked with the wires attached to the C4 bomb. He was sweating nervously. Once the bomb dropped below the thirty minute mark; he was running. Even if he couldn't disarm it. "G-Godamn it...w-why the h-hell d-did I have t-to be born...c-color blind..." The depressing paranoid tom held the scissors up at the wires. They were all gray to him. The ticking sped up. And as it did, so did his heart-rate. Goddamnit Trojan...G-Goddammit. He knew when he took the gift and heard ticking in the box it would be bad news. He was about to just cut the wire, though he had a better plan. The tom lifted up the tiny box with his mouth, and ran to the polluted gray pond near the pile of bodies. Runoff from the rainy days. The tom threw the bomb into the water, his wide eyed as he ran up the hill. "C4 yourself what's in the box...n-now I-I get it..." The hardcore survivalist and doomsday prepper curled up In the fetal position as the bomb went off in the lake, and held his ears. He didn't want to have hearing problems too.
He gave himself a pat on the back. Disaster averted.
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The tom was counting down.

His heart was out of control, and he had left his medication.
"Damage to my brain from the shockwave, burns...b-blunt force trauma, possibly partially def..minor fractures in tail. It's kinked. P-possible c-collatoral damage and m-mental t-trauma." He dipped his head to the sky to stop the nose bleed. There was a single, dramatic tear.

"I-I've n-never felt-t better..." he stammered, pale optics trailing over Forgivencrimes. He scooted back an inch. "The...the world is already grey to me a-anyways." There we go. The long awaited emo comment he had been puttinf off. Now seemed like the right time.

The paranoid tom rolled out of the way of her blood. There where so many illnesses you could contract from mixing blood.
"K-keep your distance n-now! S-safty b-bubble. B-but...can I- h-help y-you?" he echoed softly, unable to tear his teary gaze away from the nurse. He was making sure she wasnt a threat.

She seemed like a goddamn threat. Everything did. Even Trojan.

//MOBILE

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Oh...Oh funky bullshrimp. Did he do this?
Lifting a shaky bandaged paw, he conjured his first aid kit. Someone had to be the bigger cat here. He had been crushed by a piano earlier that day, so he hoped his shakiness wasn't an inconvenience to the smol nurse. "A-anything..I-I can d-do to h-help...?" his voice was below a whisper now.

He had the worst luck on the planet. Of course she would start crying. Dispite his shaky, trembly body, and scardy demenor...he was one of the stronger spirits. One of the braver ones in the pack. This was what was left after years of mental deterioration in the padded cell. Sometimes though, his mental willpower shone through the cracks.

Not that he'd ever revert to his old reckless heroic self. That was laughable. Plenty of body swaps and tortures and brain washing sessions after that, he was the paranoid and selfish survivalist we all knew and loved.

"C-can I-I touch t-the wound?"

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"Aha...no, P-please r-refrain f-from t-touching t-the d-deathberries." He conjured some purell, sanatizing his hands before he cleaned her brow with a disinfectant wipe. "Y-You k-know...y-you s-shouldn't o-offer t-to do t-that kind of s-stuff...L-Life i-is wonderful." Oh sh!t, he was crying now. The tom used one of the wipes to wipe his eyes of the tears.

...

"MOTHER OF FUNK IT BURNS!" The tom bit his lip. How the hell did he mess such a simple task up? He rubbed his eyes with his paws, temporarily blind.

"A-Ah...s-see...l-leave t-t-the whole p-pain thing t-to me..." he felt around the blur of color for the fae, and smiled through teary eyes as he felt fur. "I-I need z-some p-pain k-killers...n-now t-that I t-think o-of it."

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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]The tom cried out in fear. "N-Not my cornias! T-Those a-are pretty d-damn I-important f-for s-survival..." Tears where streaming now as he shook his head in dismissal. "I-I-I'd m-much r-rather g-go f-fix m-my eyes t-then b-blindly l-listen t-to camels d-dunking t-themselves I-in the water." He was way too paranoid about his eyes to really understand how mentally broken this fae was. If he knew; he'd probably be a mile away screaming sweet nothings to her.

Mentally Ill cats where dangerous. Then again, he probably deserved to be in a straightjacket himself. He was a bit loco when it came to the whole unnecessary precautions. "I-If I-I die...I-I'll n-never f-forgive y-you."
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]"You're an e-exile...r-right?" he questioned softly, blinking as the stinging started to recede. His panic and cruel demeanor had almost immediately declined. "W-why are...why are you helping m-me? Do you i-intend t-to k-kill o-or poison m-me in t-the end?" Antsy was very bipolor. When it came to his own survival, he was quick to act, and pretty damn near selfish. At any other time? Just the same burnt out corpse of a feline everyone was used to. And what was with all these things about hurting herself?

He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He was stuck between running from fear, and staying to find out. And if he knew anything about curiosity...it was a killer.

Curiosity killed the cat after all....didn't it?

It was such a shame Antsy tended to be curious before there was any true danger. He lingered longer than would be wise. "Y-your f-friends....t-they're q-quite i-interesting..."
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]"I-I'm n-not m-mad! I-I'm...I-I'm just concerned-about...s-surviving. I-I'm fond of i-it." The little guy stiffly placed a paw on her back, fur standing on end as he did so, body trembling. Maybe he paled a few shades. Physical contact was a major no-no. Though it was one he could...experimentally try breaking. Since he never did.

"You're r-really h-hot..." Her body temperature was way over his. He was always at 60. Very cold. Maybe that was why he was always shaking.

"D-Don't s-suddenly e-erupt w-with b-bacteria." He stiffly added another pat, recoiling now. "N-Namely..d-don't s-sneeze."
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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]"I-I h-have a-anxi-anxiety.,..I-It d-directly a-affects m-my body t-temptature...m-my b-blood pressure t-too..." He relaxed a bit more around her, happy she didn't seem to be a threat. He himself could be a big f#cking threat when underestimated. He could create elaborate traps, and weapons. When the apocalypse finally came, he would be doing a damn good job at surviving.
"H-have s-some w-water..." He conjured a water bottle, and a paper cup. The tom poured some of the water into the cup, before putting on the ground in front of her. "I-I don't k-know w-why....I-I guess I-It's j-just b-because I h-haven't t-touched a-an Exiler before...c-could just be my I-imagination." He was still trembling like a wet leaf.
"B-but d-drink a-anyways....W-Wouldn't want t-to g-get h-heat stroke."
Even now, as sad as it was...he was weary of a sudden attack on Forgivens part. Though as the odds of attack got smaller, he loosened up a little more.

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[fancypost borderwidth=0; width: 300px; height: auto;][hr][justify][size=8]"I-I uh...I-It's f-for y-you t-to k-keep your b-body t-tempatures u-under control." He smiled sheepishly, hearing the next response. "I-I c-could g-give y-you w-ways a-a leaf o-or s-speck o-of d-dust c-could k-kill me....J-Just g-g-ive m-me a minute." He took a pill, and swallowed.

"Leaves have bacteria, and could blind you via c-cutting of the iris while walking. Worse still the cut could get infected and lead to an untimely demise. The leaf could also have a certain bacteria, skin eating disease for e-example. Upon contact with an open wound..I-I have a-a lot o-of those...I-It could also kill me. D-Dust? It's the spawn of bacteria. Dust itself c-could carry illness. L-Like pneumonia, o-or... m-mites like dust mites. A-And t-thats j-just s-scratching t-the surface." The tom looked away, tightening his hard hat. "B-But y-you d-don't do t-that s-sort of thing. Y-You f-fix those things. T-Thats cool." Did the eternally depressing sad-sap just crack the ghost of a smile? That was huge for him.

He bit his lip, turning his tired gaze away. (Fun fact, he hardly slept. Had to be alert at all times. That cut the usual 17 hour sleep a cat might have, to two hours.) "S-Sorry I-If this is...a-a bit...A-Annoying...T-Trojan always s-says I t-tend to bore people with m-my nonsense..."
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