/* @cyclops */
His arms were amputated by his own doing. To save himself from being taken over by an unknown entity, acting like a lethal virus trying to end his life, he had to do it. It splattered onto him, amongst all of the chaos that took place before hand, all over his exposed arms, no clothing or armor to stop it from touching him. He did it to save himself. A scream of the vulgarity, “Fuck you!” was shouted before this fateful decision was made. The decision made out of instinct. The decision which not only amputated his arms, but had his arms destroyed, from the slime-like substance shotgun-splattering onto him, as well as anything attached to them. The sudden realization of his actions came to him soon enough that the way off of the battlefield of corridors he was in was destroyed by the slime along with his arms. Upon the USS Arkon, a ship suddenly spliced into the Sol System before being transfered to Schatten III by a massive wormhole, a ship taken over by a mushy bundle of death and an embodiment of the warning of “Do not touch” known only as Malitae, spread across the entire ship. On that starship…
Flask was alone.
Flask was left behind unknowingly.
Flask was left alone on the Arkon, no arms, no breastplate, and only the Malitae nearby for him to avoid
Flask was on the ground, the realization of him not having a communicator, and therefore no means of escape off the Arkon, coming to him slowly but surely. His jaw slowly dropped as nothing came out from his lips other than a increasingly shaky breathing pattern, all of what he needed to know being given to his mind through his other senses. He heard everyone beam out, he felt himself not be put on a different flooring, he felt and smelt and heard the same ambiance and atmosphere the Arkon had around him, as he laid arm-less on the floor.
”Please no, this can’t be happening. GOD DAMNIT PLEASE NO!”
He thought to himself, his breathing now able to be heard by anyone else who may be on the Arkon, which was essentially a 0% possibility of that being a reality. He immediately tried to act, and immediately bent his legs inward to him, only to have them launch in front of him, sending him flying up into a standing position. The bag he once had around his shoulder was now on the floor, from Flask having to take off his breastplate from the Malitae splattering onto him. Through some miracle, none of it got on the bag, and thankfully so. The contents would be devistating to guess on what would happen when the Malitae combined with it. The contents of that bag were essentially crucial to keep on a trusted man’s person, and Flask was the one who chose to be that entrusted man.
So, Flask went over to the bag hurriedly, kneeled down at it, bent down as far as he could to the bag’s strap, and grabbed the strap by his teeth, to only stand up completely with his head hung down. Then, his head leans back at a very fast rate, to which the bag slightly flies into the air, and with Flask’s increased sense of touch, he could feel and predict where the bag would go. His calculations in his head were right, as the bag landed safely on his shoulder, and had it lay as it did before he had his breastplate taken off, the strap going around his left shoulder, and the leather sac itself laying at waist level against his body
”Can my bag be useful?.. No, it can’t, there’s really nothing it can do, not in this situation.”
The bag Flask had strapped around him had contents of which only a madman could think is a good idea to put forth into a reality. But those contents didn’t have a purpose right now, and so Flask didn’t bother with the bag, but he still wanted it with him in case it DID have a use in the future.
Whatever everyone was thinking of his disappearance on Nimbus was irrelevant to his situation right now, at least for him alone. Whatever was planning for his recuse, it was irrelevant to him. All that mattered to him right now was making sure the Malitae doesn’t get to him before he can be rescued. So, he backs up a bit from where he picked up his bag, and began to go still, and silent. His breathing was cut off, as well as his movement, as he focuses on his senses to get a mental image of the surroundings. Before he did anything else, he had to make sure which spots to avoid which contained any Malitae