Specter of Perfection

Wait… what?

I'm not sure what I was expecting. Some kind of grand rebirth moment? Maybe a second chance at life that would sweep me off my feet? Instead, I'm here, in this strange, soft embrace, feeling like I'm suffocating in warmth.

And that's when I realize I'm being held—close, really close—to a woman. My "mother," I guess? She's cooing softly, cradling me like I'm some kind of delicate thing, and, to my complete shock, she starts breastfeeding me.

Everything about this situation feels too big, too intense. My senses are overloaded with sensations I don't even know how to process. The warmth, the taste, the strange comfort that's hitting me like a punch to the gut… I feel like I'm drowning in it.

"Ugh… what is this?" I try to pull back, to push away. My brain is racing, trying to process a million things at once, but my body… my body is not cooperating. I'm stuck in this weak, helpless form. My arms, if you can even call them that, are like tiny, soft sticks with barely enough strength to wiggle. They feel like they belong to someone else entirely.

And yet, somehow, my mouth is moving on its own. It's like my instincts have taken over, and I'm just… sucking. It's embarrassing to even think about it. This tiny body, this weird, overwhelming feeling… it's nothing like I've ever experienced.

The taste, though. As much as I hate to admit it, there's this strange sweetness to it. It's oddly soothing, comforting even. Part of me wants to fight it, but another part finds a weird kind of satisfaction in it.

Just as I start sinking into this haze, her voice breaks through, soft and almost musical. "Don't worry, sweetheart," she whispers. Her words cut through the fog in my brain, pulling me back to some semblance of reality, whatever that even is. "You're in mother's hands now."

That voice… there's something about it that's so gentle, so soothing, it almost feels unreal. I don't know if it's the position I'm in or the exhaustion creeping over me, but for a split second, everything feels… peaceful.

I try to respond, to say something, anything, but all that comes out is this pathetic little gurgle. My throat feels off, my mouth doesn't work right, and I realize with a strange pang that my voice—the voice I've known all my life—is gone. It's like I'm trapped inside myself, screaming to be heard, but all that comes out are these incoherent sounds.

I glance up, blinking as my vision swims in and out of focus. I can barely make out her face, just soft shapes and warm colors. It's like I'm looking at the world through a foggy lens, nothing quite clear or sharp. All I can make out is the shape of her eyes, and her angelic smile.

I'm not sure how long I lie there, feeling like I'm caught in a strange dream. Time seems to blur, stretching out and contracting all at once. It's a weird sensation, like everything is floating around me, shifting, moving. I feel a weird kind of exhaustion pulling at me, making my eyes droop even though I'm fighting to stay awake. The gentle rise and fall of her chest is the only thing that keeps me tethered to… to whatever this reality is.

My mind is screaming, trying to make sense of all of it. This isn't supposed to be happening. I was Alexander Cage, the "perfect human," a master of every skill known to man. I led a team that took on the world's most dangerous missions. I was supposed to be dead, wasn't I? That last mission… sacrificing myself… it was supposed to be the end.

And yet, here I am, a helpless newborn, being held and comforted like some fragile thing. The absurdity of it all hits me hard, and I can't help but feel a pang of bitterness. This isn't what I wanted. This wasn't the kind of second chance I had in mind.

But there's no fighting it. No matter how much I want to scream, or move, or do anything that feels remotely like me, I'm stuck in this body, in this strange, hazy reality where I'm powerless.

As if sensing my frustration, my "mother"—this strange, soft figure holding me so gently—starts humming a quiet tune. It's a melody I don't recognize, something that feels foreign and familiar all at once. The sound is like a lullaby, soothing and oddly comforting. Even though my mind is still in chaos, I can't help but feel my body relax, my breathing slow. The warmth and rhythm of her heartbeat seem to lull me into a strange sense of calm.

Maybe it's the exhaustion finally catching up to me, or maybe it's just that my body can't keep up with my mind. Either way, my eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. I fight to keep them open, to stay in control, but it's a losing battle. The world starts to blur, the edges of my vision softening, fading.

As I drift in and out of consciousness, my mind races, clinging to fragments of my old life, grasping at memories that already feel like they're slipping away. I remember the thrill of my missions, the sharp focus that came with each dangerous task, the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins. But now… now I'm just a baby, lying in the arms of a woman I don't know, in a world that feels alien and unfamiliar.

For a moment, a flicker of panic rises in me. What if I forget who I was? What if this new life, this strange reality, erases everything that made me… me? I don't want to lose myself. I don't want to become just another helpless newborn, stripped of everything that defined me.

But the more I try to fight it, the heavier my thoughts become. It's like I'm sinking deeper and deeper into this soft, warm void, where everything is muted and distant.

And just like that, I feel myself slipping away, the last fragments of my consciousness dissolving into the haze. The last thing I hear before everything goes black is her gentle humming, a lullaby that echoes through the strange, comforting darkness.

---

When I open my eyes again, it's a different sensation. My vision is still blurry, but the haze has lifted a little. I can make out shapes, see shadows moving across the room. There's a faint light coming from somewhere, casting a warm glow over everything. It feels… safe. Strange, but safe.

The woman—my mother, I suppose—is still there, sitting beside me. She's watching me with this soft, almost tender expression, her eyes filled with a warmth I've never seen before. It's unsettling, yet oddly comforting at the same time.

As she leans down to pick me up, I notice her features a bit more clearly. There's a gentleness to her face, something soft and reassuring. Her hair falls in loose waves, framing her face in a way that makes her look… well, kind of beautiful, if I'm being honest. And her eyes… they're deep and warm, full of affection.

I try to focus, to bring the world into sharper clarity, but it's like I'm stuck in this perpetual fog. Everything is muted, like I'm seeing things through a thin veil. I can't quite grasp the details, can't hold onto them before they slip away again.

Then, out of nowhere, the strange "system" screen from before pops up in my vision. It's like a floating hologram, and I can't look away from it. The words seem to pulse, drawing my attention even though I have no idea what any of it means.

[LEVEL 1: INFANT STAGE INITIATED]

What does that even mean? Level 1? Infant stage? It sounds like something out of a video game, but this isn't a game—at least, I don't think it is.

I try to concentrate, to will the screen away, but it just lingers there, hovering in my line of sight. Finally, after a moment, it disappears, leaving me staring up at the ceiling, feeling even more bewildered than before.

This is all wrong. None of this makes any sense. I'm Alexander Cage, damn it. I'm not some helpless baby in some strange world where "levels" and "systems" pop up in front of you out of nowhere. And yet… here I am, forced to confront the reality of my situation.

As my "mother" continues to hold me, humming that soft tune, I can feel a strange mix of emotions welling up inside me. Frustration, confusion, maybe even a hint of fear. But beneath it all, there's a strange, unfamiliar sensation—a warmth that I can't quite define.

Maybe this new life, this strange, bewildering existence, is more than just a second chance. Maybe… just maybe, it's the start of something I needed.