SuperSoldier (SI-OC/MCU) ENG

46: Contract

46: Contract

How much time had passed?

A day? A month? Maybe ten years?

Alright, that last one might have been an exaggeration, but still, if someone were to ask John, he would undoubtedly say it felt like at least ten years.

Though that feeling might be biased, given the strange way time tends to move when at the mercy of the whims of a nearly demented girl's subconscious mind with total control over her mind.

The "nearly" was a recent addition—honestly, John had always thought Cassandra had more than a few screws loose. After all, no girl in her right mind could navigate the battlefield, massacring men in the most creatively bloodthirsty ways possible, without being at least somewhat unhinged.

That was the reason why, since that first battle in Warsaw, he had always made sure to keep an eye on her, ensuring that the violence within her was used in the right way.

John didn't care if Cassandra enjoyed killing—no, the only thing that mattered to him was that the people she killed were not 'his' people.

In that sense, John knew he wasn't the most mentally sound person either. The number of kills he had racked up recently had undoubtedly surpassed four figures, maybe even creeping toward five, depending on whether or not one counted the indirect deaths his crusade had caused so far.

A sane person simply doesn't thrive in war, no matter the kind. Perhaps that was why he always felt a greater affinity with people like Raven and Cassandra—because they could look upon the mountains of corpses and rivers of blood left in his wake without flinching. Without horrified stares. Without questioning too much what was right or wrong.

It was easier to stop pretending around them—there was no need to invent or search for too many excuses. Because even if John loved acting, even the best actor grew tired of it from time to time.

Of course, John still had a true conscience within him, or at least he liked to think so—a voice that told him where the limits were, however thin they might be. A strange, almost mute kindness that, from time to time, surfaced to remind him that even if he wasn't a saint, he wasn't a complete monster either.

That everything he did, as selfish as it was, also served a greater good.

He hadn't expected Cassandra to have one too... in a sense.

It was truly impressive how much one could learn about a person when they had no reservations about showing their true self.

Spending so much time with what was essentially the real Cassandra had changed his previous perspective of the girl. Of course, he still thought she was a little crazy—he doubted that would ever change—but not in the same way as before. Because now he knew that, hidden behind all the darkness that seemed to flood her, there was still a part of her that remained human, with everything that entailed.

"So, this is it?" John asked, staring at the lonely memory fragment before him—the last one they'd visited.

"Yes... there's nothing left you want to do," little Cassie replied, with a lightness in her voice that hadn't been there before.

Knowing the end had arrived brought some strange feelings to John. Maybe this little adventure through Cassandra's mind hadn't been in his plans, but to say he hated it or found it unpleasant wouldn't be right.

In fact, he had quite enjoyed some moments of it. Not having to worry about the war and the conflicts waiting for him in reality while helping the girl fulfill some of her deepest wishes and desires had been therapeutic in a way. But, as people liked to say, all good things must come to an end.