@Chillicheesey language
(This was from an rp I started in January, I think?)
Blood drops, crimson petals, blossomed on the porcelain canvas of the sink as Felix's gaze descended. He hesitated only momentarily before summoning the cascade of water from the faucet, allowing its cool embrace to cleanse the ruby stains clinging to his skin. His nose, still a battleground, betrayed him with these sporadic bleeds – the lingering aftermath of a life-altering decision to replace his arm with a cybernetic counterpart. The metallic limb was yet to be fully embraced by his body.
The memory of the mission echoed in his mind. It had been months since the fateful stealth operation that left him grappling with the demons of captivity. Tormented for weeks by unseen adversaries, it was only the intervention of his comrades in a distant province that spared him from the clutches of relentless torment. The mission, initiated to hunt down an arms dealer peddling military-grade weaponry, had proven more treacherous than he had imagined. The thief who sliced his limb still haunted his thoughts, a phantom that fueled his determination.
As Felix cupped his hands beneath the flowing water, he sought solace in its embrace, a ritualistic awakening from the depths of haunting memories. When he gazed into the mirror, eyes the color of viridescent leaves stared back at him, framed by disheveled hair that bore witness to weeks of neglect. Once dilligent in his grooming as an eighteen-year-old, the demands of his current role as a twenty-eight-year-old military official had eclipsed such trivialities. Stubble adorned his jaw, a testament to the chaotic whirlwind of his life that had prevented him from grooming himself properly.
"Ara!" The call, a summons to his robotic assistant, resonated through the silence of his expansive bathroom. Ara, a humanoid machine with hair the shade of light brown, shared a striking resemblance to Felix, its tan skin mirroring his own.
"Good morning, Mr. Nora. How may I be of service to you?"
Felix, wielding an electric toothbrush, deposited a pea-sized dollop of toothpaste onto its bristles. "Lay out my uniform for me, please." The subtle hum of the vibrating brush was the only response before Ara spoke again.
"Would you like me to prepare anything for you to eat, sir?" Felix pondered, a momentary pause in his morning routine. The relentless barrage of assignments from General Rutherford had left him with scarce opportunities to nourish himself properly. The prospect of an imminent mission hung in the air, the enigmatic "Sovereign Chip" demanding his unwavering attention. Government property, Rutherford insisted, safeguarding a power that could command the world's cybernetics.
"An egg sandwich would be good," Felix replied, his voice cutting through the rhythmic brushing. Memories of his ex-girlfriend flickered briefly in his mind, her playful aversion to the sound of his gagging while brushing his tongue resonating like an echo from the past.
The remainder of his morning blurred into a whirlwind – a symphony of freshening up, consuming a hastily prepared meal, and mounting his motorcycle for the journey to the base. His thoughts, however, were already entangled with the looming mission, it briefly casting a shadow over his consciousness. The motorcycle roared to life, its engine echoing the urgency of the impending assignment as Felix ventured rode his way onto the unknown.
