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[Reaper, no, Gabriel Reyes, will awake to a world of cold and pain.

The former moreso than the latter. Because Jack just dumped a bucket of ice-water over his head, waking him up from a forty-eight hour coma/nap. What would've been a dirt nap, if Jack hadn't dragged his sorry ass out of the battlefield and into his makeshift Base of Operations.

Sorry Gabe. These aren't the fancy digs of their old HQ. He's tied to what used to be a dentist's chair with rough wire, with more crossovers, knots, and ties than a game of a drunken cat's cradle. Jack knows it won't stop him from dissolving into nothing and slithering away like the world's most pissed off black adder, but it is a good look.

How many times has he lost to Gabriel over the past couple years? More than he cares to count. He's always one step behind the spectre of the man he used to stand beside, too old, too human, to keep up with him. Soldier 74 isn't quite the specimen he once was. His star-spangled, designer genetics are aging with the rest of him. The mileage on his body has begun to take its toll.

He doesn't shoot as straight, run as fast, or fight as hard as he used to.

Seeing Gabe trussed up, as helpless and frustrated as Jack feels on a day to day basis, is a small satisfaction, but satisfaction nonetheless.]


Wake up.

[He kicks the chair. Hard, then harder.

There's no such thing as too hard when it comes to Gabe.]


Wake the hell up, you goddamn spook.

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Soldier 76

May 2020

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