Steve was sitting up in bed, pen scratching at the journal on his lap. Samson had said it would help to get his thoughts down. He didn't know. Some of this, he didn't want to remember. But maybe someone else ought to know. About the brave men and women he fought with, of the struggles and battles that almost seemed without end.
The opening of the door triggered a quick reflex action, flipping the pen around in his fingers to a throwing position. With a bionic pitch, he could...
Surprise lit his face up. "Hey you."
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