Chapter 3.5

Jason drove for a while but stopped when exited the Sumps, his mind blank. Sitting on his motorcycle, Jason bowed his head trying to shake off the memories of his past...

A young boy, less than ten years old, was sitting on the shattered stairway of a bombed down building. His left hand clutched a sandwich, made from hardened black rye bread, and a book was in his right hand. The picture book was dirty and ripped, the words barely legible. The boy was focused on a specific page that showed a puppet with a long nose looking at a small bright fairy, making a wish.

"A real boy…" the boy muttered as he traced the picture. " A father... a family …? But ... what is a family? Does father mean … family?"

"Hey, there, Jason! Watcha doing?"

A bright voice asked him from behind. The boy turned to look at the girl who sneaked behind him. Her dirty brown hair and mud-covered face couldn't hide the bright hazel eyes that were watching him interestedly.

"Nothing, just reading a book I found," Jason said while closing the book and focusing on his sandwich.

"Wow, you learned how to read! Good job, Jason. I always knew you were smart," the teenage girl said while patting him on the back. The happiness she displayed made it seem like she was the one who learned how to read.

"Nn," nodded a taciturn Jason as he took a bite from his sandwich, then stopped chewing when he heard a rumbling noise.

"Ahaha, that must've been a grenade!" the girl laughed awkwardly as she explained with an embarrassed blush, her hand rubbing the back of her head.

"Want some? It's a little too much for me," Jason turned to look at the girl and handed his unfinished sandwich to her.

"You sure, Jason?" she asked while swallowing what little saliva she had. Jason nodded again and she took the sandwich with a bright smile.

"Thanks!" the girl said brightly as Jason turned to look back at the streets. His eyes followed the younger children who were walking by with their parents before he looked down at his lap. A strange hollow feeling was emanating from his chest when he saw these poor but happy children.

If I have a father or a family, does that mean I'd become a real boy too? Jason asked himself.

"There you are, Jason," a third voice called out to them as a tall teen with delicate features joined the two. He looked at the girl and nodded a greeting to her.

"Mary."

Mary nodded in acknowledgment as she tried to swallow a mouthful of the sandwich and John turned to look at Jason.

"Jake's dead. The mercs beat him to death for running away during the last skirmish," John gritted his teeth as his fist smashed against a wall. "Damnit! The way this is going, we're all going to be killed soon."

"What are you saying, Johnny?" Mary asked, confused. Unlike the two of them, Mary was not part of the mercenary band so she wasn't aware of how difficult it was to survive.

"Tonight. We start the operation tonight," John said, looking at Jason. "But we can't do it alone. Jason, can I count on you?"

Jason lifted himself up and patted the dirt off his pants. He looked out the window once more before turning to John, his cold, dead-like eyes shone like two black jewels.

"Always, 'pops'. What do you want me to do?"

Later that night, many mercs were groaning after eating their meals. A few left their beds, ready to beat the children who made the food, thinking that they were food poisoned. Before they could leave, a small shadow flew into the room and started shooting at them. Each shot accurately hit their unprotected chest while the shadow left the room and entered the hallway.

Hearing the gunshots, the mercenaries bunking in other rooms all gathered their sidearms and came out to the hallway as well. Jason, despite being surrounded, didn't hesitate and continued firing at every person he saw as he kept moving.

His small stature and speed gave him an advantage when the mercenaries tried to shoot him, but he could only shoot their stomach or legs. This led him to shooting each merc twice: one in their lower body, and another in their upper body or head when they kneeled.

A stray bullet from a downed merc hit his back and the force sent him flying forwards. Rolling to negate the force, Jason stopped in a crouched position and returned fire at any target near the shooter. Another merc closed in and sent a kick at him, but his weakened legs didn't do much harm to Jason who blocked it with the butt of his gun, then proceeded to shot the merc between his legs.

Twelve minutes later, all the mercs were killed, and Jason, despite wearing armor, had multiple gunshot wounds inflicted on him. The bullets did not pierce the armor, however, they dug into Jason's skin, leaving minor flesh wounds.

"This is Fenrir, all targets on the second floor have been elimina- ... ted..." Jason fell to the ground, his sight fading, as he succumbed to his injuries. As the darkness took him, Jason was thinking if he had been useful to John. If killing all these men truly saved his comrades ...