Why the fuck did it have to be a skinsuit, though.
I finish doing up my jeans, and pull my hoodie on over my head. It's odd how little difference the wave-suit makes to sensations.
I was expecting there to be a disconnect; some feeling of fabric against my skin, or at least to be less able to feel the things I touched. As it is, though, I can barely tell the thing is there.
The phone rings.
I answer. I make it halfway through the first word, before The Pilot cuts me off.
"Put the phone against your eyes."
"Just do it."
With an annoyed shrug, I move the phone so that the screen sits against my nose.
"Like thi-" I let out a high shriek as the phone melts in my hand, leaps between my fingers, and lands in a semi-liquid puddle on my face.
By pure instinct, I begin trying to wipe the thing away, clawing madly at my own skin. By the time I figure out what's happening, the transition is already done.
"... You could have just told me it'd turn into a mask."
"I never tell people that," The Pilot replies, the voice now coming from right inside my ear. "The screams tend to be amusing."
"... You are so fucking weird."
I spend a moment examining my face by touch. The mask is a good deal easier to notice against my skin than the rest of the suit, it seems.
For one thing, it's hard to miss the fabric stretching over my face when I open my mouth. Then there's the goggles.
I look down into the moonlit city streets below, and immediately, the glass begins to shift, little spots of green picking up each individual person down below,
the world almost growing brighter before my eyes.
I decide I like the goggles.
"So what's my new power?" I ask, still half distracted by the view.
"... Sorry, what?"
The voice in my ear lets out an automated chuckle.
"Hold out your hand. Think of a knife."
I hold out my hand. I think of a knife.
I notice a small table knife sitting in my hand; entirely black but for the occasional shimmer glinting across its blade.
"Think of a better knife."
I search my memory.
I notice a large bowie knife sitting in my hand.
"Well, okay then, I guess," I mutter. "What's the mission? Is there a monster den I'm supposed to take out? Maybe stop a robbery in prog-"
"You've been assigned an assassination," The Pilot replies. "Raylund Hovis. A man from the skylands. You need to make him disappear.
" As it speaks, the goggles once more shift, the image of a trim, middle aged man in a white suit appearing against the glass.
The Pilot chuckles. "Didn't think you'd have to kill a person?"
"Just wasn't expecting it to come along this early. What's the reason?"
"He represents the first foray of a fairly sizeable criminal organization into my territory. I want to inform them that they aren't welcome here."
I take a deep breath. I knew from the start this wouldn't be a picnic.
"It shouldn't be all that complicated of a task," The Pilot resumes. "Your new powers should be enough when combined with the faculties of the suit. His security is not extensive."
I nod. The Pilot seems to hesitate.
"There is one man you should be wary of, however. They hired a local for additional protection. Said local has a stolen wave-suit."
I feel my mouth go dry.
"You-" I try, only for the words to catch in the back of my throat. I try again. "You're expecting me to fight an agent on my first mission?"
There is a long pause, before:
I swallow. I can feel my heart going a bit too rapidly inside my chest.
"... Is there anything you can do to improve my odds?"
"I can show you his face."
"... Sure," I mutter. "Better than nothing, I guess."
Again, the goggles shift.
A part of my mind starts yelling. Another part goes still.
"Oh, shit," I murmur. "It's David."