Broken Pieces, New Creation
Bruce’s dreams were a chaotic mess. He’d once described his perception of his time as the Other Guy as someone pouring a liter of acid in his brain. That was still pretty accurate. Though now, every once in awhile, he could get a very clear picture before it all dissolved into over exposed noise.
Yelling. Noise. Screaming. Puny human running from him. Falling through the floor. Falling again. Trapped. Tumbling and falling. Walls closing in. Metal screaming. Water. Water every where.
Bruce’s eyes snapped open. He could make out the shape of a person before he had to close his eyes again. The light was too bright and it hurt. He tried to hold up a hand to protect himself, but there was something draped over him. Quickly he opened his eyes to see what it was.
A coat? This isn’t mine. I don’t think.
He had to close his eyes again.
What’s under me? Sand? Is that sand? Am I on a beach? Why am I on a beach?
He felt cold and he started to shiver.
What’s going on? Was there a mission? Memory started to filter in. There was a fire. Someone was trapped. They needed his help. Bobbi. Bobbi was trapped. She was okay. I remember she was okay. He saved her. That was over.
“Coffee,” he said. His voice sounded ragged like he hadn’t used it in awhile. He managed to open his eyes a little and tried to focus on the person leaning over him. “I was getting coffee.” The coat was falling and he tried to grab it, but his fingers wouldn’t work right. Talking, using his hands, and even looking around felt strange and unfamiliar like it had been awhile since he’d performed those simple tasks.
Come on, Banner, get it together. Look around. Figure out where you are. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this.
“Someone moved the sun to wrong side of the beach,” he managed.