A/N: I don't own Better Days or Original Life. I only do this because I like to write, and I think these are good stories.

Original Days 2

Chapter Nine: The Encroaching Darkness


His blood-red eyes stared at her intently, boring into her own with their intensity. Shutting the door he strode forward, black coat billowing out behind him slightly, until he was standing a mere two feet away from her bound form.

"What do you mean by Powerseeker? And what do you mean I'm already broken?"

Leaning back Asura slowly ran her eyes up and down Jason's form, her smile growing wider. Impatient, Jason grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table, eliciting a pained grunt. "What do you mean by Powerseeker!?"

Spitting out a glob of blood and saliva, the prisoner looked at him happily. "It means exactly what it sounds like, little Jason. You seek power, you hunger for control; and in doing so, you hope to destroy the threats to that which is precious to you. What a noble, praiseworthy endeavor!" She threw her head back and laughed, before another slam against the table shut her up.

"There'll be none of that, Terrorist. My cousin may have been content with his philosophical chat, but I'm not quite as easy to please." Raising her head off the dented table, she fixed him in place with an annoyed stare. "Why don't you just say what you're actually thinking? That you're not quite as weakas Fisky was to stop. Don't worry, I'm the only one to hear, just let it out!"

Ignoring her accusation, he began to pace behind her, making her have to constantly switch which shoulder she was looking over. "How many members of the Organization are there? How many countries give you sanctuary?" She shrugged her shoulders, seemingly unconcerned with the questions. "Oh, a couple thousand; or maybe a couple tens of thousands. I don't really keep track of personnel stuff like that; I'm more into hands-on stuff." She craned her neck straight back, getting a perfectly upside-down look at him. Slowly she licked her lips, before sending him a wink. "I'd love to show you what it is I like to have my hands on. Heheheheh."

He stopped his pacing and shuddered, backing away a few steps. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not attracted to the underage." He cocked his head a bit, thinking. "Or to terrorists for that matter. Now answer the other question."

Grinning broadly at his discomfort, she eased back into her chair and stared back ahead. "Well, if you really want to know. Let's see; Russia, Albania, Andorra, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Belgium, Bosnia, Croatia, Denmark, France, Germany, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Latvia, Lithuania, Romania, Serbia, the United Kingdom, Afghanistan, Bhutan, Cambodia, Hong Kong, India, Iran, Iraq, Japan, North Korea, Burma, Qatar, Vietnam, Australia, Egypt, Kenya, Rwanda, Greenland, Bolivia, Brazil, and Venezuela. Impressed?"

A fist crashed into her face, knocking her chair sideways onto the ground. Jason bent down and grabbed her neck with one hand, lifting her straining body into the air, before delivering three fists into her gut. "DON'T LIE TO ME!" He delivered another crushing blow to her gut, eliciting a choked cry of pain. "You answered too easily for it to be the truth!" Another blow and she coughed crimson blood onto his face. He dropped her back to the ground and stepped away, wiping the red fluid off his face hurriedly. For several seconds she just fought to catch her breath, before looking up at her tormentor with a taunting grin. "You know, if you and your cousin keep this up, you're going to turn me into a sadomasochist!" Asura threw her head back and laughed, prompting an elbow to crash down onto her forehead, slamming it down against the table.

"I don't have the time or patience for your damn mind games terrorist! I want to know your plans!"

Asura weakly lifted her head from the dented table, crimson beginning to stain her forehead. "W-why do you insist…that we have pl-plans?" Jason snarled and drew his fist back, ready to break the little Cat's face, before changing his mind and beginning to pace the room. "All terrorists want something, and you've already told Fisk what you want. So surely you have a plan of some kind to achieve it, you have too!"

Quirking an eyebrow, Asura pushed her chair just a bit towards Jason. "Oh? And why do you call me a terrorist, hmm? Actually, what would you even define as a terrorist?" Now, Fisk or Angela or Ryan would have seen the trap thrown at them here; but as has already been established, Jason is not quite as smart as them. In fact, there have been times Fisk even questioned his high school diploma. "That's easy; a terrorist inspires terror and horror to achieve a goal. They don't care who gets hurt, or what they have to do, as long as...as...oh God." Jason looked as if he had been struck physically; staggering, he reached out and gripped the other chair for support.

Asura wasn't done with him though. "You see, we aren't that different, not really. I work towards avenging the death of my mother, who died in the 9-11 attacks, as well as to insure no others have to die that way. You, on the other hand, rage out against the world for the cruel, inevitable death…of Constantine." His eyes looked up into hers, not really surprised she knew that name. "It-it's not fair. He…he wasn't even born when it happened!" Screaming in rage, he picked up the metal chair and threw it at the mirror, smashing it and sending thousands of cracks running through the glass. Breathing heavily from the sudden exertion, he looked at his reflection, fractured into hundreds of pieces by his loss of control. A shadow looked back at him, crimson orbs of fire glaring at him. Shaken by the image, Jason barely payed any heed as Asura began to speak once again.

"This is what I meant by broken, Powerseeker. You have broken free from the chains of slave-morality; of right and wrong, good and evil. They have only as much hold on you as you allow them to. You're driven by Love, and anything done in love is beyond good and evil." She stopped and licked her red lips; seeing he made no move to interrupt her, she continued, seemingly almost embarrassed. "Fisk has…some understanding of all this. His sufferings have given him perspective; for example, allowing him to see the truth of that great poison, Christianity. And yet he recoils from the new path before him, sticking to the old morals with the excuse that they are needed. Of course, as soon as he's out in the field and lining up his sights on the target's head, these 'needed' morals go right out the window. What hypocrisy!"

Jason turned from the broken glass to look at her, eyes unreadable. "Why?" He began walking forward, hands clenching and unclenching repeatedly. "Why are you doing this? What do you want from me!?"

Asura looked down for a moment in seeming thought, before looking back up and making Jason stop in his tracks. The cruel, vindictive grin on her face was gone completely; in its place was the face of a sick, tired 17 year old girl, who had seen and done far too much. And suddenly Jason felt the last 10 minutes crash down upon him, making him let out a weak cry of shame. He held his right hand up to his face, eyes locked on the stains of blood on it. And then she began speaking, drawing his attention back. "We want the same thing Jason, the best for our precious people. And the real tragedy is that sometimes, something comes along and rips them from us just as we've made everything perfect. My brother and I know this, have experienced this, and so will you with Constantine. He is slowly dying, and we are the only people who can help."

Jason stared at the bound Cat in tired, weary annoyance. Slowly he picked up the fallen chair and set it back up, before collapsing into it. "Do you really expect me to believe your organization could help? Would help? I'm not that stupid."

Before either could say or do any more, Jason's cellphone began to ring, and he snapped out of his daze. Standing up from the seat he took his out and answered; it was Fisk. "Get out of there. Now."The call ended, and Jason quickly shoved the device back into its pocket. Sparing Asura one last weak glare, he left the room, moving aside as Angela went in with medical supplies. As she walked by Angela shot him an upset glare, to which he responded with a look of guilt; and then she was gone, into the interrogation room to make sure Asura's wounds wouldn't kill her.

"Wounds you gave her" a small, dark voice whispered in the back of his mind. Jason ignored the voice as he strode towards the exit, until Fisk caught his eye. He stopped, and for a long moment the cousins just looked at each other, waging a silent battle of wills. Finally Jason shrugged and put on a sheepish grin. "You were right; she doesn't have anything important to say."

Fisk waited until Jason was just stepping through the doorway before saying anything. "I suggest you make the restrooms your next stop." Jason paused for a moment and looked back, grinning. "Why, do I have that much blood on me? Heheheheh." Fisk said nothing else, and so Jason left the area, continuing to chuckle softly. Fisk sighed and fell back into a chair; sometimes, he really didn't know what to do with that guy.


Jason stepped into the restroom and looked around, whistling softly in appreciation of the impressive expenses put into it. He smiled quickly at his reflection in the marble walls, before heading over to the stainless steel wash-basins and turning on the water. Adjusting it to just the way he liked it, Jason began to scrub away at the blood on his hands, humming a merry tune. As the water in the basin began to turn red he began to scrub harder at his hands. Reaching over he made the water a bit hotter, and added more soap to his barely-red hands.

Chucling quietly as a bubble floated up and popped against his nose, he paid no attention to the water falling from the sink to the floor; neither did the steam rising up from the sink register in his mind as he hummed louder. Suddenly he lifted his clean hands from the scalding water, every drop of Asura's blood washed away in the steaming water. All Jason saw though was crimson, and with a scream he plunged them back into the water. Tears of pain went unheeded as he furiously scrubbed at them, desperate to get rid of the stain. A searing pain stabbed into his hands, making him flinch and pull them out of the red water to look at them again, only to see more of the stain.

He cried out in terror and stumbled back, as he realized with horror that he had torn into his own hands; the water rushing from the faucet seemed drowned out as his fresh blood dribbled down onto the tiled floor, staining it with his life. A sick feeling slithered through him like a serpent, forcing him to run to the nearest stall. Dropping to his knees, he proceeded to empty his stomach of its contents, barely even making it inside the toilet bowl. This went on for several minutes, each heave weaker and with less vomit, until nothing more came up. He dry-heaved three times, before collapsing to the side of the toilet.

The last thought to cross his mind as the encroaching darkness took him was "I guess…I wasn't strong enough…"


A/N: I have nothing to say. Next time in Original Days 2:

Ana sat down in exhaustion, leaning forward in a near-faint. Fisk walks over and hands the panting Dog a bottle of water, which she gratefully accepts. After several large gulps of the cool liquid she looks up at her superior with a concerned expression.

"Sir? Why is Jason always so…focused?"