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Sometimes Reyes imagines what Jack would say if he saw him now.
“Geez,” He’d sigh, his visor lowered. “This is no way to live.”
As if he didn’t know that. He was living like a common rat, seeking every mission, every kill for that next hit. Funny thing is that those druggies would do anything to feel their face melt off while Reyes was trying everything to keep his face in place. He would give anything for his body to age but the way the disaster left his body in shock, his brows slough off in a thick peel followed by the rest of his cheeks and face. His cells regenerate and rinse and repeat. What a fucking joke.
“Gabe,” His young voice and young face would murmur. “What’s going on?”
He couldn’t face the old man like this.
And when he passes Jack on his next kill, they scuffle and fight. Jack knocks off his mask with his elbow and freezes. Jack shudders and draws in a slow inhale as he backs from him.
Reyes gave him too much credit. Age will do that to you, he bit back.