A Little Night Vision
Starbridge came out of the vision with a gasp and reached for his glass of water.
It had just a brief set of flashes, down a single path, this time. Of chasing after some Shi'ar warrior, through the halls of the Institute, and calling him a jackass. Starbridge, as he reflected, couldn't place the person, although he bore a passing resemblance to his royal cousins on his aunt's side. The guy had had Throwback hands, like Deathbird, like Starbridge.
Then Starbridge realized that 'his own' outstretched hand in the vision hadn't been his at all. Shorter fingers. Thin, frail nails.
Maybe it wasn't a vision. Maybe it was just a dream. After all, what could possibly be expected in that possible future, that Starbridge would have cosmetic surgery to get human hands?
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