Deus Ex series developed by Ion Storm, Eidos Montreal, N-Fusion Interactive, Square Enix Montreal. Published by Eidos Interactive, Square Enix. Deus Ex: Icarus Effect written by James Swallow, published by Del Ray Books.
Prompt Theme: a vivid memory.
Of all the things that had happened, it was a snap of a few seconds that had left the deepest mark.
Anna could never get used to the sheer liveliness of the picture imprinted on her mind.
Neither could she understand how such few seconds had made such an indelible mark. Or maybe, it was exactly because of the short time span she had had, at the moment, to take in the meaning of what she had seen, that her mind wouldn't stop looping on it.
Either way, D-Bar's blank dead eyes would always stare back at her from within that bag.
And no matter how many times she closed them in her memories, they would always accusatorily demand she looked back. To all the times she had had to act and prevent his death.
If she had woken and made her escape from her cell minutes earlier.
If she had noticed his off behaviour during the car chase.
If she had stood up for him when he had refused to be part of the car chase at all.
If she had listened, for real, to his worries aboard the cargo aircraft.
If she had stood up for him when he had refused to go with them to Geneva.
If she had just gone with him when he had rescued her, instead of going back for the flash drive.
If she had downright arrested him when he first approached her.
If she had downright cut off the phone and refused to meet up at all.
He wouldn't be dead.
The clatter as the dive weights inside the bag spilled across the deck's floor wouldn't stop reminding her she had abandoned his body there.
It didn't matter that the police had eventually recovered it from the lake. That it had been eventually sent to his homeland and given proper burial. That there was no way she could have taken the body with herself as she tried to escape the burning ship. That there was no way for her to have stayed to recover the body from the water.
All that mattered was that it had not crossed her mind for even a second. That she had run from Geneva, from Switzerland, from Europe without looking back. She had fallen from the map and left him behind, no second thoughts on his fate.
His ashen face and his twisted neck would call back to her.
Patrick's cheerful, provocative, challenging, irreverent attitude. His immature voice reminding her he hardly could be called an adult.
Every single one of Patrick's bruises, would always scream inside her head.
They would keep a count of all the years that had been taken from him.
All the years she would live and he wouldn't.
Anna's job as a protective detail had often seen violence and death. But there was a jarring contrast between living violence and walking into its aftermath.