A man is lying, face down, on the icy planes of Northern Russia. His shoulder length black hair is matted, and the black uniform he's wearing is stained red in places. He's dying- the life seeping out of him slowly along with his blood- and he knows it. As he drifts in and out of consciousness he tries in vain to grasp the shards of memories that are floating around in the back of his head.
An explosion. Fire. The rancid smell of gas. Screams of terrified people, echoing in his ear.
The feeling of a gun in his hand- one of absolute control and power, and the indifference in which he pulls the trigger, ending the life of a man whose face he doesn't recognize.
A woman, smiling at him from beneath her lashes. Her red hair is striking against her green irises and it's the single most beautiful thing he's ever seen. The feeling of her leather suit on his hands, and the roar of blood that pumps through his veins, it's all dizzying and terrifying at the same time, and he's at a complete loss at what to make of it.
Pain. Physical pain that has gone too far and is threatening to break his sanity along with his body. He grits his teeth and tries to defend his mind, to keep it from crumbling down, but all he can do is thrash against the binds and yell blindly-
The smell of sweat and blood and metal- three things that he's familiar with. He looks around him and realizes with a start that he's the only man alive in this room, standing atop tens of burnt and charred bodies.
A sensation of warmth and softness on his palm. He's bending down and putting the lightest bit of pressure possible to the white expanse of a woman's abdomen. "Can you feel it?" she whispers, and he starts, because something just kicked against his hand. Unknown feelings, feelings he can't name spread through his chest and he nods silently.
A man wearing glasses and a white lab coat is standing in front of him. '- done a great job. You've shaped the history of men with your hands, and should be proud for the all the accomplishments you've made.'
The terrifying feeling of losing control of his mind and body. Of forgetting everything, losing himself, losing her, and- everything is dark.
Tears. Shouting. Regret. Shame. Anger.
"You told me you'd come back! You said you'd come back for us!" The shout rings clear and loud in his eardrums, and the painit causesfeels like someone stabbed a knife in his sternum.
His eyes snap open, and for a moment everything is clear. He has to get up. He has to move. He has to-. But the hole in his chest throbs dully and he realizes that he won't be going anywhere. His feeble attempts at movement result in his fingers and feet twitching slightly.
Somewhere a bird is crying, which can't be right, because the icy planes are devoid of any living creature.
Perhaps it's all in his head.
A cough racks its way up his body, and he ends up spraying droplets of blood on the snow before his face. He can't feel the cold anymore, and the pain that had ripped through his body with vicious brutality just seconds before are nulling into a dull ache.
He thinks of the woman with the red hair and desperately wishes he could see her again, if only to remember what she meant to him. He feels regret and guilt, and can't tell why. He tries fruitlessly to grasp onto the fragments of his memory, but they fade away, clouding over and scattering like sand blowing in the wind.
Snow gathers around him, swirling in particles and resting upon his hair and clothes. Time has passed, but he doesn't know how much. He wonders idly how much time it takes for a man to die.
The snow stops. The wind halts its howling. The sun is coming up, bright and glorious and unforgiving. His metal arm, twisted at the elbow joint in an awkward angle, glints, reflecting a ray of sun. The man blinks blearily, sensing the darkness creeping into his vision and accepting it with a sort of sick relief. He smiles, somehow glad- he can finally be at peace.
His vision is blurry, and everything is fading, and he can hear waves crashing along the shoreline and see the red headed woman laughing brightly at something he said and-
Darkness plunges him down under.