Thaw
Bite down on the mouth guard, hands pushing at your shoulders forcing you back in your seat, A high-pitched whine, like a mosquito in your ear, steadily growing louder, louder, louder, til your jaw vibrates with it, inescapable, louder still. A strange static buzzes in the air, making your hair stand on end, the metal plates on your chest, and a man in a coat nods and gives the all clear. Flips a switch.
Air raid
Pain. Unending. Time stops. Stops. Stopstopstop. Thought is impossible over it, an explosion in your ears, bright lights, muscles seizing, can't escape -- this is your mission, this is your purpose, this is what you are, what you are, what youareyouare--
--
Grey-green eyes popped open, wide and panicked, searching frantically for an assailant in the darkness of the dingy hotel room.
No one.
You're alone.
He slouched slowly, chest heaving as he gasped for breath, then lifted his hands to rub at his face, glancing to his left when something resisted - he'd torn at the other pillow in his sleep, the thing mangled beyond hope of repair.
He pulled his hand free from the shredded cloth, shaking off the bits of stuffing, and rubbed his eyes, wiping the cold sweat away from his brow, gaze darting to the glowing green letters of the clock.
4:32 am.
He'd only been asleep just under two hours, but that was the most he'd slept on his own in a single stretch that he could remember. There were a fair number of... well, holes in his memory. Times he couldn't account for, times he knew he hadn't been on ice - had memories bracketing the blankness that weren't of scientists and the cold.
With a grunt of frustration, he forced his mind away from the idea, least he develop yet another headache.
Actually, speaking of which, the familiar pressure behind his eyeslids was already starting to build. Without looking, he smacked his hand on the nightstand, feeling around blindly for the bottle of pills he'd stolen, unscrewing the cap and shaking a few into his mouth, crushing them with his teeth and swallowing, uncaring of the taste. Then he forced himself from the bed and to the bathroom that stank of mold and wet and other people, and stepped into the shower, standing under the freezing spray for over an hour before he emerged again.
The week before, he'd tracked her down, the distant scent of her tugging at his mind, far off, something there beneath the scent of age and hospice care. He hadn't gone inside - there was security that he wasn't interested in dealing with, though he could have easily dealt with them. He's stared at her from the outside, watching from another rooftop through a window with the scope of the rifle he'd gotten off a TITAN soldier the day of the attempted attack. The day that he--
Failure to achieve your mission with result in discipline, wiping, and reprogramming. Failure is not an option.
Yes, sir.
The museum had been just as confusing - there were too many people, he couldn't get close enough to the displays, the relics all behind glass and motion sensors, couldn't touch and hold it to his face and breath in and try to remember, let his senses overtake him, pull the memories out from where they could be waiting in the corners of his mind, where they had to--
But no, he'd had to content himself with staring at videos, images - that man -- Erwin, the Commander -- You're my friend -- and others, and someone that had a face that somehow matched his, matched up to when he looked at any reflective surface, though the beard was better kept, skin less sallow, eyes brighter.
Nothing made sense.
--
He was out of the hotel by 6 am, dropping a wad of wrinkled bills on the counter. The man either didn't mind of pretended not to, counting out the money and waving him off.
He stalked through the city as the sky grew lighter, and when he happened across a man sleeping off the previous night's drunken revelry in a back alley, he relieved him of his wallet, tossing out the driver's license and using the credit card to buy something that was supposed to be a breakfast sandwich from a gas station, along with a newspaper. He ate without tasting, and by the time he made it to the train station, walking on instinct, navigating by scent and information, knowledge of the city that he didn't remember learning but knew had been written into his brain for purposes that were most certainly not aligned with his current one, it was nearing 7 am.
He took the first train out of Sina that he could manage, bound for Zhiganshina, acting on information he'd gathered from the museum: Erwin Smith and Mike Zakarius were childhood friends, growing up in Zhiganshina together [A grainy image of the pair in high school].
Mike?
Who the hell is Mike?
There'd be answers there. There had to be.
What were you thinking, enhancing his sense of smell like that!? It was strong enough as it is, but scent is the sense most closely linked to memory, one whiff of the wrong kind of perfume and we'll have to wipe him all over again and start over!!
So we'll wipe him, it'll be fine. His enhanced sense of smell will give him tracking powers like that of a bloodhound, a wolf. No target will escape him, no trail will be too cold for him to follow.
It'll be on you, then... The Ape won't be happy if his prize soldier gets damaged beyond repair from all the reprogramming.
As he stepped off the train late that night, he lifted his face to the wind, breathing in the cool spring air, and began walking.
