>>28 Thank you for point the comma thing out to me. On occasion I have paused to think about the comma really needs to go there. As for run-on sentences, I'm always afraid of making them too short, and I admit I keep forgetting that sentences look much shorter on my word processor than they do on the chan. Thank you for the crits! There might be further run-ons and 'too much comma' in the already-typed segments, but, I will definitely keep the crits in mind for the as of yet unwritten parts. ______________________ White. Everything was so peaceful – the nothingness was peaceful. It was short-lived though. That white became very real and very harsh, then black, again, as Fleischer squeezed his eyes shut against the too-bright lights. Each desperate, heaving breath was accompanied by a sound very much like a whine. Fleischer's tongue kept wanting to stick to the roof of his mouth, and his throat was dry and sore.. There was also the pain – the ache that existed everywhere, completely inescapable. An attempt to stand up was quickly halted. Fleischer's legs didn't feel right – didn't respond – and any effort to move them resulted in unfamiliar pushes and pulls against his waist. He finally forced his eyes open long enough to look down, and see what was wrong with his legs… …they were gone. There was something there, though – writhing, and squirming, and moving more frantically the more panicked he became. Tentacles. Bright yellow tentacles, mottled with dark, almost purple blotches. It was the rings that stuck out the most, though – blue, and almost seeming to glow and shimmer in the light. Fleischer couldn't manage a "nein," as the doors to the Respawn room opened, and Isaac stepped in with his bodyguards. All he could do, much to his shame, was break down into hoarse sobs, tightly closing his eyes, again. Even with his eyes closed, he knew that the men were drawing closer. He could hear their cautious footsteps on the tiles, and – and he could sense their nervousness. He wasn't sure how, but, he knew they were tense – and it made Fleischer even more tightly wound. The more tightly wound he became, the more those – those tentacles moved; they curled, and slithered, and their suckers gripped tightly to whichever patch of floor or wall they came into contact with, first. Unable to stand up, unable to move from his corner, Fleischer did finally open his eyes, again. The guards, four in all, had drawn much closer. Two of them were closer than the others, holding tranquilizer pistols, and trying (and failing) not to gawk at the sight before them. Fleischer's own gaze was drawn briefly downward, again – at the place around his waist where slimy, bright yellow flesh faded into mostly human skin – at the blue rings that seemed to shimmer, and even shift, larger and smaller, seemingly of their own accord. Those rings became very bright, indeed when one of the guards took a step closer, and raised his pistol. It wasn't just the rings that reacted to Fleischer's terror, though. One of those boneless limbs struck out, and wrapped around the guard's legs. The man fired, of course, and Fleischer gave a sharp hiss at the sting in his side where the dart stuck. The sting also triggered the suckers of that grasping tentacle to grip down tightly on the guard's legs. Fleischer could distinctly feel what must have been the texture of the fabric covering the guard's legs. It wasn't long before a few coils of tentacle were wrapped around the limbs, and pulled even tighter. Fleischer was trying to fight the effects of the sedatives, but he could feel himself growing weak. There was a satisfying crack, though – the sound of one of the guard's legs breaking, before the man's colleagues finally managed to pry the clinging tentacle away. The drugs worked quickly – far faster than Fleischer ever would have expected. He felt himself starting to slump back, and tried to catch himself. The sharp tips of his claws just dragged uselessly down the tiles on the wall, and he was left lying on his side in a graceless heap. He could see two of the guards leave – the one with the broken leg, and his comrade, helping to steady him. There were still the other two guards, though, along with Isaac. The clicking of the man's pen to write a note on his ever-present clipboard would have been infuriating if Fleischer's mind hadn't felt so warm and cloudy. Fleischer couldn't find it within himself to resist or even want to resist as he was lifted up, and he couldn't remember when the gurney had been rolled into Respawn. He could feel something, though – odd sensations below his waist as his not-legs were lifted and gathered up so they wouldn't drag on the floor. Lights passed by overhead, and there was a pleasant, low hum that seemed to undulate, and occasionally pause – talking? The rows of lights were soon replaced by one, bright enough to make Fleischer squeeze his eyes shut. He gave a half-hearted groan of displeasure, both at the light and the fact that his tongue kept wanting to stick to the roof of his mouth. Someone must have asked him something, changes in the pitch and tone of that pleasant thrum – and, he must have replied. He could feel his lips moving, but, he couldn't quite make out the words. His unintelligible request was granted, though. His head was propped up, and he felt something cool and wet pass over his lips, and between his teeth, and he greedily swallowed every drop. Fleischer could feel his chest rise and fall in a sigh of relief, and his throat stopped feeling quite so tight. Something else was slipped past his lips, though, and wedged between his teeth, and he coughed and almost gagged when he felt something decidedly less soothing than water being pushed down his throat. There was that thrumming, again. It very nearly sounded like voices. Fleischer couldn't make out what they were saying, but, it seemed as though they were talking to him. The voices were calming, and almost succeeded in distracting him from a pinch in the crook of his elbow. The voices – everything – soon faded away.