Cold-Blooded

Suit

This chapter has been edited ever so slightly to better suit the storyline (pun intended).

***

Jason fidgeted a bit as he adjusted Alias's head on his shoulder, who had woken up from her 53-hour slumber and ended up sitting on the cushioned loveseat on the patio of a penthouse in South Metropolis. The penthouse was slightly extravagant to be called a safe pad but extravagant were most buildings in the city: raised patio with dark wooden flooring, loveseats and an l-section couch that surrounded an elongated fireplace and a divider that doubled as a waterfall. He could tell she was feeling slightly better due to the soft smile on her face, but her brows would furrow at times so he wasn't exactly sure. Nevertheless, he sighed and finally decided to take his helmet off, the air decompressing slowly to allow easy removal. "Don't get used to this," he lowly commented and placed it in his lap, his hand reaching up to fix his hair. "What was it with that place? First a gate knows who you are, and as soon as you step in you feel as if you committed a fucking crime. All your memories etched into your psyche just as vivid as the last...I remembered my own death."

Alias sat up from his shoulder and turned her body to face him, still dazed from what happened and instead rested her cheek against his arm that was propped up on the backrest. "You say it as if you let it happen. You had no control over those events but...I understand. Of course, the Knight I knew definitely would've killed me for saying that. The Jason that's here with me, who went with me to a city that continuously moved through time and space and letting me be this close enough to feel his body heat, is someone willing enough to gain absolution. And considering your history, it has to be one of the bravest things you've ever done." Jason attempted to retain his straight face but burst into small chuckles, diverting his gaze towards the pink-haired woman.

"You speak a lot when you wanna," he informed her and she shrugged.

"One of the things you hate about me," she chuckled with him and slowly reached up to caress his cheek. The scar that there in the mark of the initial of the man that destroyed everything in Jason's life felt thick and doll-like with his unusually soft skin. He must've shaved. "Are you sure you don't want me to heal this? After what happened, I would think that―."

"It's testament to my survival. It always hurts when I think back but it's a sign I beat him."

"Well...if you ever decide to change your mind, I'll be more than willing." She lifted her head off his arm and dropped her hand from his face to stretch her upper body. "It feels better having my memories back, but it's definitely a lot to process."

"What did you find?" he asked as he reached in his jacket pockets, and brought out a box of cigarettes in one hand and a lighter in the other.

"The truth. Max was right: my parents orphaned their sick daughter. I had terminal pneumonia, and they flew me to Japan because there was no treatment to cure me, and because they were afraid I wouldn't have any control over my powers...if I had lived to see the day..." She changed position once again and draped her legs on his. Her face was more resentful, in fact he's never seen her look so...hopeless. "Syndicate shaped me into a mercenary because I had no other reason to live. They manipulated my memories to make me believe that they murdered my parents, then they conditioned me. At 18, I was their first weapon."

"18?"

"Yes, 18. They trained me in everything there was to know, but one day I didn't follow orders and they pushed me to the edge of my powers and...even while we're talking, I can feel my own death..." Alias fidgeted when she said this. "To be forced into a life you didn't even accept is just...I can't explain it. It's as if everything I was supposed to live for left behind nothing but an empty purpose."