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Summary
His light glared off the glass back at him as Chris approached, trying to get a better view of the person within. They were tall and lean with numerous sensors attached to different parts of their body. A respirator of some kind was situated over their face as the monitors documented their oxygen levels. In the tank, thin wispy strands of blond hair hovered like a halo around the sharper familiar features of a man. The center of his chest was marred with large grotesque scarring that had healed over time. Similar scar tissue rose along both arms crisscrossing the underside like pulsing seams that cut across the spiderweb work of pale veins.
Chris didn't even need to look at the name placard for the subject on the heads up display beside the tank. His fingers found the digital screen as he punched in directions and commands, the breath sinking low in his chest and suffocating him as his heart pounded within the tight restrictive confines of his ribcage.
He couldn't believe it. He didn't think this was possible or even real. Was this really the same man he killed over a decade ago?
The man he thought he killed.