[The Soldier stares through the goggles at the prisoner, the light dimmed in the lenses. Originally meant to prevent sunlight glare and promote more accurate shooting, now blocks his ability to visually follow the rise and fall of the prisoner's chest. He's not supposed to take them off unless they impede his mission, but right now his mission is to keep the prisoner alive.
The prisoner doesn't say anything and the Soldier thinks he might have knocked him out or killed him. The goggles come off in an instant, tossed to the side so he can better observe vitals, but then there's a rush of air and more words.
More of the same nonsense-
Except he can dimly pick up fragments of a conversation. Cushions on the floor. Shining shoes.
That's never happened. That's not real. What's real is the prisoner, an enemy, he's meant to keep alive sagging in the saddle. Blood continues to ooze from the shoulder wound and the prisoner trails off. If he dies-
Dragged across a concrete floor. Failure. Failures get locked up. Failures do not see the light of day.
A thrill of terror sneaks into his veins and the Soldier moves forward. Don't die. He doesn't want to go back into storage. He presses his hand over the shoulder wound in an attempt to stem the red tide.
He's not supposed to get this close unless he's killing someone, but he doesn't want to go back to amber glass and frosted skin. It's selfish, he knows, but he can't go back. Not for this.]
no subject
The prisoner doesn't say anything and the Soldier thinks he might have knocked him out or killed him. The goggles come off in an instant, tossed to the side so he can better observe vitals, but then there's a rush of air and more words.
More of the same nonsense-
Except he can dimly pick up fragments of a conversation. Cushions on the floor. Shining shoes.
That's never happened. That's not real. What's real is the prisoner, an enemy, he's meant to keep alive sagging in the saddle. Blood continues to ooze from the shoulder wound and the prisoner trails off. If he dies-
Dragged across a concrete floor. Failure. Failures get locked up. Failures do not see the light of day.
A thrill of terror sneaks into his veins and the Soldier moves forward. Don't die. He doesn't want to go back into storage. He presses his hand over the shoulder wound in an attempt to stem the red tide.
He's not supposed to get this close unless he's killing someone, but he doesn't want to go back to amber glass and frosted skin. It's selfish, he knows, but he can't go back. Not for this.]