pocket full of posie
Who: Delta, Sinclair, and Eleanor.
Where: Sinclair's apartment.
When: After this.
Summary: Sinclair's dying. :<
Rating: R, plaguenasties within.
The very air of World's End seemed oppressive. The world he almost considered his home had taken the utmost turn for the worst. Delta received a series of frantic messages from Sinclair and didn't hesitate to get his ass in gear. Sinclair was close to death.
He was joined by his daughter in the quick scurrying to Sinclair's apartment across town. Every second counted, as Delta could tell by Sinclair's labored breathing in his audio transmissions. In his left hand was a vibrantly glowing syringe, its brilliant ruby glow cutting through the evening gloom. Sinclair said he didn't want the ADAM, but this was a matter of life and death.
His thoughts were conflicted. ADAM was a horrible substance, but it could buy Sinclair more time. He knew people were revived after trauma, but what of diseases? Sinclair could end up never returning, and Delta refused to let him die again. Maybe Sinclair was very shady, but he was not beyond redemption.
Was it worth the risk of addiction should he be revived?
Sinclair would soon notice a loud rapping upon the old door of his apartment. Delta himself wasn't feeling very well. His breath was raspy and littered with guttural coughs. The disease would eventually overtake him, but for now he stood strong against the attacking virus. His regular injections of ADAM provided a decent front against the superflu but even now it was beginning to lose it's punch.
The aging, dusty wood of the building creaked under the prototype's massive bulk. The loud noises made him worried he would fall through the floorboards, but the ground held fast against gargantuan weighted boots.
Now he stood and waited for a reply. He wouldn't have a problem busting down the door to prevent the man from dying. How odd he was, running to the rescue of the man who originally turned him into a monster! That was the knight in dinged armor for you. His heart was as vibrant as the firefly-esque glow that came from his faceplate.
Where: Sinclair's apartment.
When: After this.
Summary: Sinclair's dying. :<
Rating: R, plaguenasties within.
The very air of World's End seemed oppressive. The world he almost considered his home had taken the utmost turn for the worst. Delta received a series of frantic messages from Sinclair and didn't hesitate to get his ass in gear. Sinclair was close to death.
He was joined by his daughter in the quick scurrying to Sinclair's apartment across town. Every second counted, as Delta could tell by Sinclair's labored breathing in his audio transmissions. In his left hand was a vibrantly glowing syringe, its brilliant ruby glow cutting through the evening gloom. Sinclair said he didn't want the ADAM, but this was a matter of life and death.
His thoughts were conflicted. ADAM was a horrible substance, but it could buy Sinclair more time. He knew people were revived after trauma, but what of diseases? Sinclair could end up never returning, and Delta refused to let him die again. Maybe Sinclair was very shady, but he was not beyond redemption.
Was it worth the risk of addiction should he be revived?
Sinclair would soon notice a loud rapping upon the old door of his apartment. Delta himself wasn't feeling very well. His breath was raspy and littered with guttural coughs. The disease would eventually overtake him, but for now he stood strong against the attacking virus. His regular injections of ADAM provided a decent front against the superflu but even now it was beginning to lose it's punch.
The aging, dusty wood of the building creaked under the prototype's massive bulk. The loud noises made him worried he would fall through the floorboards, but the ground held fast against gargantuan weighted boots.
Now he stood and waited for a reply. He wouldn't have a problem busting down the door to prevent the man from dying. How odd he was, running to the rescue of the man who originally turned him into a monster! That was the knight in dinged armor for you. His heart was as vibrant as the firefly-esque glow that came from his faceplate.