Devin has returned from an assignment; with a three-day gap in his memory--a stutter they called it. He'd been working with the Chula on one of their warships. Strictly as an advisor, he'd identified a volatile thread in time. While in the field, he saved the life of another solider but almost got himself killed. The Chula had done their best to save him, but their nanogene technology was unstable on alien species. It caused some issues for Devin--skin blemishes, blue and in his opinion disgusting.
He stared at the mirror, and it flickered into life. A red circle in his reflection traced his eye and faded to green. His name flicked up in the mirrors surface, "Agent Devin Reineke." Data scrolled through the display, red lines of redaction etched the stutters in his memory.
He pulled his weapon from its holster laying it on the table. With a sigh, he started to pull at the buckles that held his armour in place, letting it drop to the ground. The grey-black vest hugged his torso, and he pulled at the neckline. He glanced at the scars that patterned his skin. Those--to him--were like medals, his personal history. It was the discolouring of his skin, a pastel blue, which looked so alien, a side effect of the Chula recovery techniques.
Agent Kodee walked past--a new recruit, Devin watched him closely. At twenty-three, Devin was more of a veteran, time agents careers were always short--the vortex manipulator saw to that.