***CW: Minor Blood and Gore***

Jason was average. Helix had gotten that much right. Jason was also fucking scared of everything. Not much of it showed, but there were times when it became all he was. A bundle of terror shaking and stumbling and stammering his way through the situation until….

He became dangerous. Feral, heaping layers of spite, making up everything that he was. If he couldn’t flee peacefully, then he would drag as many people through the mud as he could just to prove a point. As unfortunate as it was for him to feel afraid, it was even more so for the people who got to engage in the horror they unknowingly brought about. Anything was a weapon, even if it hurt to get it.

And, shit. Did it hurt.

The sound of smashing glass was of little consequence compared to the screaming pain from every laceration on his palms and wrists. Jason ignored the viscous crimson streams that rained blood over the otherwise clean concrete floors, gripping the glass shard with hands made shaky by anger rather than the fear his trembling heart felt.

The first man to make a dive for him stumbled back with a spurting chest wound. Was that even as effective as it looked? Jason didn’t know. He didn’t care as the crowd gathered around the scene that he just left. Now was his chance. Not a lot of them seemed to actually acknowledge his presence as he bounded through twisting corridors. The few who took a second to watch him fly by looked like they were too shocked to do anything.

Really? Is this all it took to escape? 

Jason shook his head, clearing the questions and unnecessary wanderings of his mind. The only thing he needed wracking his brain was his escape. How or why it was so easy could be asked and pondered about later.

Jason vaguely remembered the final snap of realization as sudden shouts and scrambling limbs shot after him. He kind of remembered the single man who tackled him to the ground and the immediate flare of nausea when he thought he was going to get caught. He didn’t know how he got out of it, though. Maybe the blood running so loose around their feet was enough of a deterrent to let him keep his steady lead.

And the blood. The blood. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe Jason was just sick of seeing the color, but it seemed to be far more than a small body like his was supposed to have.

Then, blistering cold. Almost like licking that metal pole at school, except your face is your tongue, and the inescapable elements are the very escapable pole. It’s no wonder there was a sudden halt in the pursuit of footsteps. But Jason didn’t stop running, only slowing enough to pad his hand with the thick fabric of his suit. The air burned his throat, ashy snow stinging his lips, even through the filter.

There was a saying back in the Caverns. “Masks don’t make it not burn”. A motto for any slum kid who wanted to be on OBP. Outer Border Patrol. You’d think they’d make it more…inviting. After all, it was absolutely a recruitment career. But it worked because it sounded badass. You wanna know who wants to be badass? A bunch of poor, starving kids who wanna claw their way to the top. Be their own hero.

More than that, though, Jason realized the phrase was woven entirely by truth. It didn’t stop the burn. Didn’t even slow it down. The only thing the mask did was keep Jason’s throat and lungs from being coated in the soot forever dancing through the air. Something he was grateful for, but in the way that you’re grateful for the gift mama got you for Christmas, only to realize it was missing half the set. It’s still a present, still something to play with. But having those other pieces would have been nice.

Bloody, dizzy, and cold to the bone, Jason finally slowed himself to a walk, turning swiftly down an alley and immediately collapsing against the wall. He didn’t care that the concrete only made him colder. Didn’t care about the slick gray-green frozen slime melting at his precious warmth and wetting his hands. Didn’t care about the wind howling like some eldritch horror.

He was tired. Oh, so very tired…and the darkness behind his lids seemed so wel—

No.

Groggily, Jason came to his senses. Or, well, as much as one could in his condition. He stood, stumbled down the alleyway in search of any fabric lying amongst the trash. It wasn’t too much of a surprise to find nothing, considering how valuable clothing out here was.

It was already freezing, but Jason had heard rumors that it was consistently cold enough to freeze the blood in your veins if you didn’t have the right apparel. Regardless of his knowledge of the subject, he still grimaced with disappointment. His brief moment of confident strength disappeared with the groaning sound of the decaying gray-washed buildings around him.

For now, the only security he had was the mask keeping out the plumes of ashy snow and knowing that the suit would last another ten hours. Or, well…it should.

Jason was only sixteen. The mandatory classes on the OBP wouldn’t come for another two years, and he knew little more than the basics and rumors spent along the night by gossiping women and their swirling cups of wine. Still, the knowledge came to him unbidden, followed by the hushed shadows of worry and despair.

The filter would falter.

I’ll suffocate.

The suit had to be serviced after every use. Most of the time, they could easily breach the thirteen-hour cut-off, but it wasn’t uncommon for them to tear before then, either. The thing wouldn’t last the day, let alone several.

I’ll freeze to death. 

And an actual storm? The ones that whip up a flurry of ash and snow and rock and ice, welding spears that so often devastated the outside population?

Oh, I’m so fucked.

Something somewhere down the alley clattered to the ground. If he wasn’t so woozy from the blood loss, Jason probably would’ve already declared his presence with some auditory yelp of surprise. As it stood…that wasn’t the case.

First thing that came to mind was the goons for whatever gang Helix held a contract with. Jason didn’t know much about them, but he knew enough to surmise there was a plethora to choose from. Just like the Caverns connected what was left of humanity after the Cleansing, the gangs connected the populace up top. They made their own maps, almost acting as separate states. It was surprisingly well-governed, in that post-apocalyptic we-have-anything-from-thieves-to-rapists sorta way.

Or maybe it was the dogs. Jason found it oddly soothing to think it’d be the dogs. They’d be more likely to kill him quickly, their rabid teeth not really cut out for drawn-out torture. At this point, he just wanted it to be over. He was fine leaving his corpse in this place of wet grime and rot and decay.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, when did he get so tired?

“I know you’re there!” a voice shouted after him.

That’s fine, Jason couldn’t help but think in response.

Curiosity had his head turning feebly anyway. His heart skipped a beat as he attempted to peer through the settling fog in the alley. He didn’t say anything, though, unable to move his lips.

“Hello?”

Jason’s eyes blinked languidly toward the direction of the speaker. Finally, he saw a shadow huddling beside the entrance to the alley. The dude seemed to be around Jason’s height—maybe a tad shorter—and definitely looked like a kid his age. Might’ve been a relief had Jason not heard about the rabid children born in this desolate hellscape. But, wait…

“Hello?” the voice questioned, fear trickling through the tone. “Who’s there?”

At this point, only the animalistic curiosity kept Jason’s eyes open. Whoever it was should have been able to see him, crouched against the wall though he may be. While light was a strong word out here, the kid in the shadows had far more of an opportunity to see Jason than the other way around.

Ah. He was blind. Or going blind, at least. Had to be. Delirium had settled in, carving out the sections of his brain that would’ve stopped him from laughing.

Unsurprisingly, the kid immediately caught the sound and looked in his direction. “I’m ‘suming you’ve realized I don’t see real good,” he snapped with a muted voice. “That don’ mean I can’t defend myself. I’ll cut you into ribbons, or stick you out inna storm. Let it skin you instead.”

Jason swallowed hard. Right. Blind, not defenseless. Not like it mattered anyway. “D-Do your worst,” Jason chattered. “I-I-I’m d-d-done f-for.”

“Ho-ly sheeit,” the kid chuckled, his stance changing from defensive to curious as he drew out every syllable. “We don’ got yer kind ’round here all that much. Definitely not the kids.” A brief pause. “Well, sheeit! I don’ even know what to do with myself. Never seen a little one of yous.”

Jason shrugged. He didn’t have a voice to offer. Barely had an attention span to give.

The chuckling abruptly stopped. After a handful of seconds, there was the muted sound of scrabbling and hushed footsteps. “I’mma need ya to say somethin’ or another,” the kid said with some distant cousin of urgency. “Come on, work with me.”

Jason tried, but his voice wouldn’t come. The best he could offer was the weak cough that rattled his frame.

“Good ’nough,” the kid said, his voice suddenly very close. “Phew, boy. Lotta blood there.”

So, going blind, then.

“Alrighty, I’mma gonna getchu back awake here. Ain’t gonna be pleasant, I’ll tell you that much.”

What did that matter—

A sudden stench had Jason rolling forward as he gagged. The boy let out a cautionary laugh.

“Don’chu worry, kiddo, you get used to the stench. Fer right now, though, it be mighty good you ain’t.” His voice stopped as an arm wrapped around Jason and hauled him stumbling to his feet. “You look pretty good for them Dirt Diggers. A little too clean, but we can fix that.”

A wet smack and the feeling of something being spread over his outer layers barely registered in Jason’s near-death, doped-out bliss. He was sure it was something slimy, some putrid poison that would seep through his suit, rot the flesh beneath, and scar the bones that remained. Didn’t make it any more pleasant.

Heaving a solid breath, Liam lifted Jason over his shoulder with surprising ease and began walking out of the alley. Far-off screams stained the air, but the boy continued steadfastly forward. Looking around, he moved aside a piece of plywood, revealing an entire missing section of the chain link fence. “Don’chu worry ’bout a thing. Good ole Liam will take gooood care of ya.”

Liam, then. What a lovely name. Maybe…maybe Jason would remember it.