1. A Rough Morning The interaction with the nurse was awful. The way she spoke to him reminded him of his mother, and the way he was so helpless in that situation just took him back to his childhood. It was something he had never wanted to relive and some piece of him was so angry that he was forced to feel that way. He thought about signing the page for perhaps a bit longer than the others might have, the possibilities of what exactly was going on tearing through his mind.
This could be some advanced braindance he was stuck in, perhaps it was some live corpo simulation to test human responses to fucked up situations, maybe Biotechnica was testing gene splicing with animals to create fantastical 100% organic exotics. Hell, it could even be some elaborate AI training simulation and Emerick had been offed and turned into an engram by one of those new Arasaka relics. Capturing someone who was calling corporations out on all of their darkest secrets would be his move if he were one of them, he supposed.
His entire appearance was unkempt - from the white sneakers that were so worn they were falling apart, the disheveled appearance of his clothes, the five o'clock shadow that matched the dark circles and bags under his tired green eyes. He fished a hair tie from his jeans pocket and started to comb his blueish-purple hair through his fingers, working it up into a messy bun - a sharp eye could find his number below the chip slots behind his right ear. The movement was to put his hair up, yes, but also to give his hands something to do until they stopped shaking. His voice was surprisingly cheery enough but it was clear in his eyes that he was distracted.
"Where do you think we are? Some private island? A datafortress?"
2. Imagine Sharing A Room All that the day had really given Emerick was a headache and a bone-deep weariness that made him just want to fall face first into whatever horrible slab they called a bed. He hadn't expected the room to actually have nice accomodations. It was tight, it was bare, but it was clean, the bed was an actual mattress, and the furniture was clearly not fished out of a dumpster somewhere. Not that his place at home had a what could barely be described as a cot and "furniture" that he maybe found in a dumpster in an alleyway.
He ran his fingers over the sheets of one of the beds. The nicest thing that he'd ever owned was his Agent, and even it was cracked to hell with a spiderwebbed screen. He could never afford to replace it - he'd had other bills to cover, expenses that popped up and ate at his funds, and the left went to the slim scraps he called food.
Emerick hadn't noticed someone else come in but when he did finally hear a noise, or when they spoke first, he jumped and turned to see who had snuck up on him. His heart was absolutely galloping as his hand came over his chest and he took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. It was perhaps a bit of an overreaction but it was genuine - he hadn't heard
"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."
3. Standardized Testing is ruining our school system :v All of this insane bullshit that was going on had more or less confirmed that this was some sick joke and Biotechnica was testing some new gene splicing technology to create organic exotics. He hated that he had feathers now, like some bird that was going to be exterminated for ending up too close to the city, with sharp teeth that kept nicking the inside of his mouth as he talked. He might have developed some sticky fingers too, which he wasn't proud of. He hated the way his sclera had turned black, too, and it made him avoid the mirror.
When the Angel whoseywhatsit started talking to everyone like they were four, Emerick pulled his phone out of his pocket enough to start playing some music. It played directly into his head because of his implants, quickly drowning out the coddling tone that the Headmaster was using. Emerick didn't particularly have a good relationship with his parents and he had no desire to be talked down to like this. He is, at least, polite enough to wait for the Headmaster to finish speaking before being a salty bitch.
"Why do they talk down to us like we're five?"
4. Wildcard (OOC: Pick a prompt! I'm going Valkyrie that's blue jay inspired for the TDM. Also, will match your format (brackets/prose) so don't sweat it. :>)
Emerick Jones | Cyberpunk RED
The interaction with the nurse was awful. The way she spoke to him reminded him of his mother, and the way he was so helpless in that situation just took him back to his childhood. It was something he had never wanted to relive and some piece of him was so angry that he was forced to feel that way. He thought about signing the page for perhaps a bit longer than the others might have, the possibilities of what exactly was going on tearing through his mind.
This could be some advanced braindance he was stuck in, perhaps it was some live corpo simulation to test human responses to fucked up situations, maybe Biotechnica was testing gene splicing with animals to create fantastical 100% organic exotics. Hell, it could even be some elaborate AI training simulation and Emerick had been offed and turned into an engram by one of those new Arasaka relics. Capturing someone who was calling corporations out on all of their darkest secrets would be his move if he were one of them, he supposed.
His entire appearance was unkempt - from the white sneakers that were so worn they were falling apart, the disheveled appearance of his clothes, the five o'clock shadow that matched the dark circles and bags under his tired green eyes. He fished a hair tie from his jeans pocket and started to comb his blueish-purple hair through his fingers, working it up into a messy bun - a sharp eye could find his number below the chip slots behind his right ear. The movement was to put his hair up, yes, but also to give his hands something to do until they stopped shaking. His voice was surprisingly cheery enough but it was clear in his eyes that he was distracted.
"Where do you think we are? Some private island? A datafortress?"
2. Imagine Sharing A Room
All that the day had really given Emerick was a headache and a bone-deep weariness that made him just want to fall face first into whatever horrible slab they called a bed. He hadn't expected the room to actually have nice accomodations. It was tight, it was bare, but it was clean, the bed was an actual mattress, and the furniture was clearly not fished out of a dumpster somewhere. Not that his place at home had a what could barely be described as a cot and "furniture" that he maybe found in a dumpster in an alleyway.
He ran his fingers over the sheets of one of the beds. The nicest thing that he'd ever owned was his Agent, and even it was cracked to hell with a spiderwebbed screen. He could never afford to replace it - he'd had other bills to cover, expenses that popped up and ate at his funds, and the left went to the slim scraps he called food.
Emerick hadn't noticed someone else come in but when he did finally hear a noise, or when they spoke first, he jumped and turned to see who had snuck up on him. His heart was absolutely galloping as his hand came over his chest and he took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. It was perhaps a bit of an overreaction but it was genuine - he hadn't heard
"Sorry, I didn't hear you come in."
3. Standardized Testing is ruining our school system :v
All of this insane bullshit that was going on had more or less confirmed that this was some sick joke and Biotechnica was testing some new gene splicing technology to create organic exotics. He hated that he had feathers now, like some bird that was going to be exterminated for ending up too close to the city, with sharp teeth that kept nicking the inside of his mouth as he talked. He might have developed some sticky fingers too, which he wasn't proud of. He hated the way his sclera had turned black, too, and it made him avoid the mirror.
When the Angel whoseywhatsit started talking to everyone like they were four, Emerick pulled his phone out of his pocket enough to start playing some music. It played directly into his head because of his implants, quickly drowning out the coddling tone that the Headmaster was using. Emerick didn't particularly have a good relationship with his parents and he had no desire to be talked down to like this. He is, at least, polite enough to wait for the Headmaster to finish speaking before being a salty bitch.
"Why do they talk down to us like we're five?"
4. Wildcard
(OOC: Pick a prompt! I'm going Valkyrie that's blue jay inspired for the TDM. Also, will match your format (brackets/prose) so don't sweat it. :>)