Chapter 8

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"He's alive"

Poison speaks confident enough for me to believe him. I bite my lip.

"Please lead me to him."

He seems lost by this request, tilting his head.  "He's fine. Stop whimpering."

I am not.... oh, yes I am. I clench my jaw, my tongue held down in between. "Take me to him."

" No."

Well fuck, what do I say to that? He smiles at me once again, lifting his head up in pride. His hair is all matted to his head. There is a cute element to him still, an energy he keeps despite his sadistic ways.

I feel my throat swell. "Please. I care about him."

His smile melts into his face. He doesn't seem to know what to do with this new information.

"Do you know him well?" he chokes out.

" Not exceptionally, but he's a sweet kid. And I know you hurt him because of me."

He starts swaying back and forth. "I didn't. He's just a very easy target. And we have a long history."

I frown. How does Jason have such a bad reputation with a villain? There is worry showing in the creases of my brows.
"Well take me instead."

He stops swaying and for a moment I am certain his eyes bulge. "What. Why?"

My hands start to warm. "Because I can defend myself. And he can't."

His lips purse. "He can defend himself fine thanks. Trust me he's a handful to put up with!"

"And you say he's alive?"

"Yes. But not for much longer."

Fire engulfs not only my hands, but my body. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down then."

A sadistic grin takes his face, so big that even the Joker himself would look out of place wearing it. He tilts his head to the side.
"But do you not remember I'm the one you couldn't beat?"

++Jason POV++

He charges and for a second I'm prepared to let him take me. The fire would sear my flesh, and with all the blood loss I'm sure it would make of me quick. But I can't. It is a silly weakness I can't overcome.

The fear in his eyes.

The only person that cares about me I'd leave in defeat. And it's not just a look of wanting to protect Jason - which I would bring down with me- but it is clear he does not want to kill me. And how else do you reward the only person that values your life?

Up I go. Higher into the thinning air. And far above the clouds. We play a game of dodge and weave for a while, but he can see me stumbling. And my shortness of breath, despite my super advances. Worry dots his sparkling eyes.

I start coughing as I move. My limbs bend in intricate ways, a dance to make up for my lack of speed. I can feel the heat close, but it never gets closer. It always remains the same distance. I'm slowing, but he is too, and not because he is running out of energy. There is blood on my hands and I can't tell if it was there before or if it is from my cough. I can't remember.

And then oddly as my attentions seizes from the chase to the pink dusk of the clouded sky below, it all becomes silly. There is no show to be had up here. Just a winner to take the price and show it to the crowds a mile below. It is only us on the pastel skies.

I pull to the right and stop. Clenching my abdomen, I bend over in a coughing fit. I close my eyes. It will make it easier. And like every cliche movie, the blow never comes. Not because some cool super hero friend comes to my aid (no, I don't have any of those) but because the super, only five feet away, doesn't have it in him.

He stares at me blankly, his limbs hanging from his body like dead weight. Smoke drifts off his head, but no more than a candle would put out.

My breath escapes my throat in wheezes. He assesses me for a minute.

"What's wrong with you?" he shouts, which is completely uneeded. The only sound is the faint whur of jets in the distance.

What a long and hard question to awnser. Too bad I don't know where to start.

I grimace and grip me knees. "What ya mean?"

"Your hurt." No emotion.

I spit, watching it fall below. "Yeah. I told you your little friend was a handful."

Pride appears on his face, then fear. "Do you hurt him the same?"

I arch back, trying to regain more control and balance. "Look pal. I'm not here to infodump my grand evil scheme. That's not how this works. I be evil. You be good. It's not a play. We don't work out the scenes beforehand. That's not why I'm here."

He looks dumbly at me. Innocently. "Then why are you here?"

I groan. He has to stop asking questions I can't awnser. For a moment I don't know what the fuck to do, but stare at his hazel eyes. They're quite pretty; it reminds me of Daniel. I wanted to find him.

And he wanted to find Jason. I wish I knew how he knew me. Danial must have come home and called Golden Flame when he saw the mirror. 

"I was looking for someone."

He squints. "You and I have very different ideas on how we contact our friends."

I scoff. "Not a friend. Just an acquaintance. His names Danial."

His lips merge together. "I know a couple."

I wave my hand. I wanted a hug from a human. I can't explain that because now I seem like a pscypath on the verge of killing someone to get it. And of course now that I'm fading out of the episode, he'd never give it to me. Suddenly I arch over, painfully reminded of my stomach.

He is by my side. A gentle, large hand seeps into my stomach, dipping into the ocean of blood. I can smell the thick scent of axe on him. His chest rises fast and the expression on his face makes a drastic dip for the worst.

"How are you still standing? This needs attention immediately."

He stares me down, his hand not wavering. My mouth opens and closes a few times before I can manage the words.

"Im highly ... medicated."

" What?!"

"I was in a rush."

He looks up and blinks several times. Contemplating if he should let me die or save me. I know what he will choose. He may not like me, or tolerate me much, or want to see my face ever again.

But he cares.

And I let that be the comforting thought when my body gives in and I start to plummet towards the cotton candy clouds.

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