D.E.A.D.

A

Depression
Exacerbation
Alone
D

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He sat at the desk without his friend to accompany him in the lonely room that he now shares with the rest of his remaining roommates, the front of his now repaired neck covered in multiple electrical bandages. Brownie felt...alone. Of course, he was, as nobody was there in the whole room, but he just felt...a different version of alone. Something must have changed in his microprocessor that led to him being more different than he originally was, his affection for TV Woman was lowered not because he now really hates her, but because he felt no interest and motivation from her at all.

Brownie felt empty in this empty alone room and speaking of the word "empty", his stomach was empty since he didn't bother eating breakfast or lunch which is unhealthy, already concerning a couple of the allies present in his building after he avoided such interaction walking back from the medical room to the room he stays in. He stared at the picture of TV Woman which he had always kept in his brown coat, not sensing anything new or good in his body as he did, the print becoming a useless object to him as he suddenly realized. It didn't need to mean anything anymore if he didn't mean anything to TV Woman, feeling his microprocessor spark as he microprocesses the newly made up information, grabbing the portrait and tossing it aside with what little strength he had left.

Brownie then took out the pack of cigarettes he still kept in his coat even after the massacre he caused and placed one of them into his camera-mouth, grabbing out his chrome lighter and lighting up the cigarette on an empty stomach, taking a few drags as he blew out smoke from his camera-mouth. He felt the burn and had the sudden urge to cough but eventually accepted the slight pain, inhaling it all in and just trying to relax with all the bad things that were done to him, trying to remember the last good thing that happened but unable to even do so. The brown cameraman leaned a bit forward in the seat and onto the desk as he tried to think hard, but alas he could not get a good result as he only saw emptiness in his mind, something that's been around the room and inside of him.

This...feels great. It was what Brownie was thinking to himself in this alone and empty room where all he was right now feeling was any type of pain, his expression being quite blank with a slight hint of sadness.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door by somebody behind it. "Brownie? Are you there?" Brownie replied in silence as he didn't feel like doing so anyway, the room and the other side filled with silence until someone opened the door.

Plunger Cameraman was holding a tray of fresh food that he was going to give to Brownie, some others barely visible behind him but gave a sense of being familiar, their expressions becoming startled when seeing Brownie casually smoke in the room without much thought put into it.

He said his name. "B-Brownie?" Plunger Cameraman had concern in his tone as he knew the brown cameraman was at least a young adult even to smoke, the words that came from his camera-mouth being heard by the two others behind him.

Brownie didn't dare to turn his camera-head to them as he felt he didn't need to see them right now, continuing to ignore the three as he continued to smoke and take drags out of his cigarette. They already knew that he was able to speak since his vocal cords were repaired, but as it appeared, he wasn't in the brightest mood to talk to them or anybody in particular.

Plunger Cameraman sighed as he walked over and placed the tray of food on his dead friend's old bed, walking over to Brownie and placing his palm onto his shoulder which felt surprisingly less warmer than the average cameraman's shoulder. "We...came to check up on you. How are you doing as of now?"