Italics are Tony speaking to Bruce

Bold is Bruce speaking to Tony

"Speaking aloud,"

'emphasis or past conversations,'


Who are you?

Somehow that question wasn't as easy as it once was.

That's what I'm going to find out. But for now, call me Tony. What about you, go by anything?

He really shouldn't encourage the part of his brain that was failing but he couldn't help it.

Who I was holds no meaning now.

A smothering weight of loss hit him.

If you don't give me something I'll come up with the most outrageous nicknames, I don't think you want that.

Granted he'd likely do that anyway if of course, he survived and so did the figment of his imagination that is. There was this strange little swirling like an encompassing darkness that folded together in the groves of his mind. And silence there was a bit of that. He sort of thought that'd be it, no more voice just awaiting the end. He tried to get up a while back and got about two inches before collapsing once more. For all his want to change and his need to make things right. He wasn't going anywhere.

Bruce, you can call me Bruce.

Huh, would you look at that? The voice was still there after all.

You are not going to die.

Great, optimism. Somehow he really wasn't expecting such a thing from this voice. Didn't feel right.

And what hotshot makes you think that? Look around, not even a tumbleweed's crossed by.

What remaining good mood he's managed to hold onto soured. There might've been a sigh, he wasn't sure but a dry baritone drawled in his metaphorical ear.

By the wind repercussion of a helicopter coming this way.

Oh. Well, when you put it like that.