Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20161215223926/@comment-27830834-20170114205600

Sweating profusely from the sudden heat of the flames, and more a than a little high thanks to the inhalation of what smells a lot like promethium fumes, Echo continues his assault on the ragged man, even as flames start to blacken his prosthetic forearms. Multicolored swirls of nonsensical data spin before his dialated eyes as his inbuilt cogitators desperately try to make sense of his current situation.

"Thade you... bastard." He mumbles incoherently, his autoimmunity already kicking in, though not quickly enough. "This isn't whisky... its antifreeze..."