Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-34100315-20181003125507/@comment-27661770-20181006011830

(HOLD ON NECROZMABOI DID YOU JUST)

The robot stares at the hole just punched in them.

"Sorry, Grey. For what it's worth, you did help me a lot making this."

The orbs die out as the face of a barely-adult ghost rises out of it.

And then the rest of the body.

There's a rather grisly wound at the torso, as if someone stabbed them in the gut through the spine. The flesh at his sides seems jagged and torn, as if ripped in half. His legs are... there, but more wispy than the upper body.

He has a snarl on his face and a fire in his eyes that only a dead man with a score to settle could have.

He's retreating, as he can do little without a body.