[@Hokum]

[i]-Donny gave Dr. Fock a faint grin, tilting his head up just long enough to acknowledge the alien before resting it back down.-[/i]

[b]"Ah'm healthy as a horse, sah. Jus' take care when yah remove mah articles..."[/b]

[i]-He allowed himself to inhale the gas. They'd surely strip him down and confiscate his belongings, maybe even put him in an observation cell. Donny had been in a cell only once before, and not a high tech one. This was going to be unusual, even for him, but he didn't have much choice, and at least he was on-board. One step at a time, is how a journey's end approaches.
If those administering medical care to Donny attempted to remove his overcoat or shirt by the lapels, the razors sewn in might give one of their fingers a nip. An old trick to surprise those who thought that grabbing someone by the collar was a good idea. Plus, you never know when you may need a hidden razor.
Unclothed, Donny had a dad bod. A reasonable layer of fat over supple, functional muscles, the kind you achieve not from bodybuilding, but from various degrees and disciplines of hard work and practical training over the course of many years. He had no scars, only a variety of large, intricate tattoos.
On his left bicep, a fanged skull topped with a green beret overlaying crossed arrows, a dagger thrust up through the jaw. A trio of lightning bolts cut through the hilt of the dagger, and looming out of an eye socket was a black viper, venom dripping from exposed fangs. Below the skull, there was a crossed out motto with a newer one tattooed right below it.[/i]

[b][color=9e0b0f][s]DE OPPRESSO LIBER[/s][/color][/b]
[b][color=9e0b0f]WAR ENDURES[/color][/b]

[i]-Dominating Donny's nearly hairless stomach and torso was an angel of death, robed in gray tatters with a gaunt skull peering out from a ratty hood. Vast black feathered wings arched above it, the tips meeting at the base of Donny's neck.
The last notable tattoo covered the entirety of his back. It portrayed a crimson sunset over a vast prairie landscape. The sun was a bleeding skull, the blood from its sockets, septum, and gaping maw oozing over shadowy mountains and setting the grass aflame. In the midst of it all, a pitch black rider sat upon an equally black horse, blue prairie fire coiling about its hooves and snout, the spirits of the dead. The rider's face was a pale smudge with glistening shark's eyes and a wide-brimmed hat. A bundle of scalps were tied at his belt, the dark, dried skin rusted with caramelized blood. Draped across Donny's shoulder blades over the scene was another motto, this one in English, not Latin.-[/i]

[b][color=9e0b0f]THE NIGHT DOES NOT END[/color][/b]