[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/zOFVfLo.png[/img][/center]

[b]"Damn, Mister Ninteen, that didn't take long at all!"[/b]
Paulo responded cheerfully over his audio-call, as he made his way up the latter, [color=#54F4A7]"Oh, it was nothin' but a busted sublet G nine-router. Weird place to have it-- in there like that. But wasn't hard."[/color]
Chuckling his dispatcher replied, [b]"You'll be home in time to eat with the family."[/b]

[color=#54F4A7]"Sure will,"[/color] he replied, emerging from the manhole. It was surrounded by a couple of warning cones, one of which had a flashing light, but the people walking by still seemed to press as close to the hole as possible. It wasn't the middle of Takari Square but it was still in a rather frequented segment of walking space, apparently. Dressed in the orange and silver disc suit, one that all sewer workers were mandated to wear, he knew he stood out enough for the people to take more of a wide berth. Neon lights from the square played pretty tricks across the surface of his helmet. He took a second to enjoy being out of an oppressively dark tunnel. Sighing as he received a few dirty-looks, for having just emerged from a sewer, Paulo continued to say, [color=#54F4A7]"I'll submit the report in--"[/color]
[b]"Forget the report tonight. Just do it tomorrow- boss' orders. Says you deserve the time."[/b]
[color=#54F4A7]"Fantastic! I'll just close up and-"[/color]

			[code]"Ꮆㄖᗪ 千ㄖ尺Ꮆ丨ᐯ乇 爪乇."[/code]


Paulo turned to look but yelped as his body shook and searing pain raced through his back-- instinctively he threw his hands up, but his wrist caught between a ladder rung and the metal slab it was attached through-- ladder rung? Paulo's mind didn't have a chance to process further, as pain snapped through that arm, and weightlessness came to him. With a heavy thudding half-splash, he landed painfully front-first, twenty feet down, with several sickening crunches-- half of his body on the service walk and his other half submerged in thick acidic ichor at the bottom of the sewer. Static interference screamed in his ears and his voice picked up to join in. Howling in agony-- thrashing about and clawing at himself-- Paulo's voice filled the space of the sewer until he tasted blood on his tongue.

	Darkness nipped at his vision as his consciousness fled him.
	[i]Visions emerged from the blackness.[/i] 

Then there was a tiny fire. A light. Static screamed into his communication system.

Paulo stared at the tiny blue flame in fascination as it burned a hole clean through his glove.
His glove? HIS GLOVE! Paulo tried to pull his hand away but- but- but? Wasn't this a welding torch? Made of fire? Shouldn't it be hurting him? Again, he tried to move, and found that he simply could not. He looked around, taking in the odd blue-ish cloud of gas accumulating within the sewer around him, and then at the bodies of rodents spilling down from the walls of the tunnel. Again he tried to move.
Again he tried.

Again and again so much so that he wanted to scream-- his body was numb and he stared at the circle of the world above. Paulo heard screams-- there were strange lights-- and he couldn't move? Dread settled in as he figured he may have been paralyzed from the fall. How could he call for help now? Reaching up the the front of his helmet he-- reaching? Paulo stared at his hand-- through the hole in it-- then looked around as the gas quickly began to disperse. Then back at his hand. His. Hand.

His hand was leaking out of his glove in a very neon-blue-gree-ish sort of manner.
And there he was. And thus he stayed. Staring at his hand.