Maybe I'd Miss You?

11.

I woke up still curled up at the end of the corridor, which was not that surprising, but also surprising at the same time. Schrödinger's surprise, I guess. I half expected to wake up in some cot or something, magically traveling there in my sleep and being appropriately awed, like a toddler being carried off to bed when they nod off watching television. I should've known it wouldn't happen. I was of secondary importance here. I had to be. 

The more shocking element was that Lightning had vanished and was nowhere to be seen. In his place was, out of all people, Jasper, watching over me with a critical eye. Dazed, I propped myself on the wall, salty streaks lining my cheeks. I still very much felt like shit. Jasper, oddly restrained, mumbled, "You remind me a lot of him."

I turned, eyebrow raised. "Of who?"

He frowned, the memory apparently unpleasant. "Jacob. In the good old days." He put air quotes around the good, and my eyes widened. If he was thinking of the same Jacob I had in mind, I didn't know whether to be honored or horrified. "Back when heroes had their own little city and didn't have to deal with normal people being all nosy and worried for their safety. Fuck, were you even alive for the original Metropolis?"

Actually, I had an answer for this. My parents told me the story all the time. "I was born on the day Jacob Front died."

Jasper squinted, trying to recall. He ended up successfully conjuring the date. "July 12, 1998?"

"Yep. Not long after the announcement was made, actually."

Jasper gave a low, casually impressed whistle, which when coming from an intimidating forty-something man, was satisfying. "Damn, I'm old. So you probably lived in the isolated city for about a week before the announcement was made, right?"

I shrugged, my shoulders still weak. "Don't remember much, but yeah, I guess I did."

"So you probably don't know the true story." I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. I suppose it made sense. If there was anyone who would know the story of Jacob Front better than me, it was him, and I was sure it was only because they actually knew each other in their prime. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with anything and everything about the mythos of Jacob, and in turn I swallowed every little morsel of information about his life I could gather. Being a pivotal and infamous heroic public figure, it wasn't that difficult.

I looked up to him because, much like me, he came from an unlikely background, but still rose to greatness. Before his death, anyway. As time passed, and I matured, I accepted that there was more nuance to the myth than what I'd previously believed. Perhaps his levels of pain and suffering weren't something to strive for. Of course, it was ironic that would end up coming my way anyway, but I preferred not to linger on that for too long.

"What else is there to know? He's dead. Was found shot in the Nevada desert. I've studied the story for all my life-"

"Oh, that's cute." Jasper chuckled, running a hand through bright purple hair, too consistent to be dyed. "Your story's a lie. He's still alive. I'm technically not supposed to tell anyone, but you seem like you need something to cheer you up, so-"

"You're joking." I wouldn't doubt it if he was. I was fully prepared for everyone here to take advantage of my naivety. It wasn't a secret how much I looked up to Jacob.

"Oh, believe me. If I was, I'd be laughing a lot harder right now at your expression." Jasper snickered all the same, placing his hands in his pockets and becoming wistful. "Fuck it. Let me tell you a story..."

---

So, it's the golden age of Cold War espionage, right? The two big groups who are relevant are The Organization, a covert body of spies bound to their own questionable rules, and An Organization, a Soviet Union based ring of assassins pushing the limits of murder. Sounds confusing? It's supposed to be. After all, it's easier to stay hidden when your name doesn't even sound like a name at all. I always remember it because the Assassins are An Organization. But that's hardly relevant.