Work Text:
Day 15
Soft skin
[“BP 90 over 50 and rising. Core temp 90.2°F.”
“EEG?”
“6Hz.”
“Good, bring up the-”]
A warm breeze ruffles the short sleeve cotton shirt he is wearing to try and combat the heat of mid-summer in Brooklyn. He can hear a tired, slightly raspy voice near him but the speaker is out of his sightline. Children are playing a game of baseball in the street below, the crack of a plank belting a ball clear even five stories up. Smoke curls around his cheeks from the cigarette hanging between his lips. One foot is flat on the steel fire escape outside the window while the other is tucked beneath him on the sill.
Turning his head a little he catches a glimpse of the other person in the room with him. It’s strange, though. The room around him is clear, he can count the flowers on the wallpaper, but the person is blurry, out of focus. Almost like looking at a warped mirror. Or one of those watercolor paintings at The Met that s-someone (who is it?) likes so much. One blurry hand reaches toward him-
[“Prosthetic coming online now. Preparing to test in three, two,-”]
The skin on the back of the knuckles running down his left arm is soft but the touch is like being hit with a bolt of lightning-
[“-a problem with the connection. Testing again in three, two, one-”]
Blue eyes flash at him from beneath blond bangs. A big, open smile and a palm around his bicep-
[“-esting complete. Prosthetic operation normal. Subject showing alpha waves, Sir. He’s ready.”
“Welcome back, Soldier, I have a mission for you.”]