Jason felt the cold weight in his hand, hanging limp at his side. He still was grasping at just how he had stumbled into this job. He still didn’t know why the gun was necessary. Vince had explained that heroes would probably show up - heroes with power suppressing abilities were always a concern - so it was better to be safe than sorry. Plus, he was 'highly suggested' (coming from Vince, it was essentially an order) to use it on someone to send a message. It made Jason nervous, and the weight in his hand was weighing on his mind. He was only here to make a splash. He’d never been trusted (or risked) with something like this before and to Jason, it was evident why, and also evident why he was trusted with it now. He needed to make a splash. Although the heroes were very preoccupied with Vince, the media had calmed down and hadn't covered Vincenzo's exploits in weeks. The general public wasn't as scared anymore. Vince wasn’t happy about that. There needed to be something big. A cannonball into the still waters. Jason was just the man to do it. Vince had assured him it was because he wanted Jason to take on more responsibility, move on to bigger things, but Jason knew that wasn't why. He wasn’t stupid. The first couple attempts at this splash were a bust, because Vince had used plain looking grunts pathetically squealing his name. No one cared that a man with a gun killed a couple people. Not in the age of power. Jason, unlike the previous, was flashy. Although he still had a gun, it certainly wasn’t his preferred method of attack. No one would see Jason and forget. Vince knew that. Jason knew that. Jason, although very young and slim, had a stature of intimidation. His slim build was to the point of almost unsettling, long lanky limbs that stood him at well over 6 feet stretched out with a spidery appearance. His dark eyes were enough to give some nightmares even without his powers, and of course, there were his horns, which probably took that 6 foot something to 6 foot something and then some. Dark, large ram horns. The horns associated with demons. Those paired with everything else about him, especially his powers, made some believe that he was one.
Jason knew he was being used for Vince’s gain. Of course, he’d known that since he was around fifteen years old. Everything Vince did with him was only for Vince’s gain. Jason wasn’t blinded by Vince’s persuasions and menacing charm; no one really was, in a way. Yet, Jason still did things for Vince. He’d joined by his own volition, but he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice.
So here he was, gun in hand, standing outside a bank alone. The gun wasn’t cold anymore, now warmed by his hand and slicked with his sweat. He adjusted his grip, and stepped through the automatic doors. His mind went back for a moment to when he was a little kid, pretending to open doors like these with ‘the force’ - he had always been a sucker for those old movies - but it was just a flash in his mind that he pushed away as he put it to focus on the task in front of him. It was a small bank. Not too many people were inside. Hardly any people were inside. In the front room four employees were at the front desk and only one of them was talking to a customer. A perfectly manageable number for Jason. He quickly clocked where the security camera was in the room before continuing. He walked with an apathetic confidence and strode into the lobby, stopping while he still had all of them in view.
“Hey fuckers,” he called out. It got everyone’s attention. Good. Time to put things in motion. His eyes went black, power clawed and scrambled it’s way up out of the well he kept it in, and he blasted it out. Four bank clerks and one man setting up a new checking account all screamed out in pain, gripped their heads, clawed through their hair, and scrunched up their eyes. Jason looked up at the camera, then spoke loudly over the continuous screams so that it’d be clear.
“This is for Vincenzo.” He then turned and vaulted over the counter, grabbing a set of keys and a key card, and went to town on the small vault. It was shit security despite the recently legalized audio capable cameras, and those only worked to his advantage for this job. As he went to work, he pocketed the gun, and with every wad of cash thrown into his bag he felt the weight of it in his coat pocket. He was too focused on it hitting his side every time added to the fact that he was still using his powers on people he couldn’t see and the fact that they were screaming bloody murder that he missed the sound of other people coming through the door. An understandable mistake. He did, however, hear them when they walked to the doorway of the vault, and immediately switched his power concentration to the sole hero that had stumbled upon him. He grabbed the screaming hero and dragged her to the back wall of the shallow vault and pulled out the gun. He held it to her head. The screams in the other room ceased and sounds of the distressed exiting the building were a background to scrambling heroes making their way to the wall of the vault where their screaming friend and a demonic villain stood. Jason let the power fade and slip back down and the girl’s screams with it, but the gun to her head made the other heroes stop in their tracks.
“I’ll fucking do it,” he announced. His eyes faded back to normal. It was at that moment that he realized he’d actually have to do it if he wanted Vince to be pleased. He needed Vince to be pleased with the job. It was his only choice. The heroes took cautious stances.
“Look, do you really think killing her over some money is worth it?” One carefully and slowly articulated, clearly thinking this was some petty robbery. Jason laughed bitterly.
“I’m here for Vincenzo,” he said, causing the color to leave their faces. He felt the girl in his grip tense even more so at the mention. Of course they were scared of that name. They should be. He heard sirens approaching. He needed to act quick. “I’m gonna fucking do it.” His voice shook. The girl noticed.
“I don’t think you can,” She said. Jason chuckled. Then again. He heard the sirens quiet as police filtered into the building. He built to a desperate laughter. He knew now the other choice he had.
“Yeah,” he croaked out, moving the gun to the bottom of his own jaw. “You’re right.”
The trigger was pulled and a gunshot rang in the small room, but in an instant, one of the heroes became a quick blur, snapping Jason’s wrist away from his head just in time, the bullet just nicking the side of his face and shattering the end of his left horn. Blood dripped from his face and his horn and his ear as a ringing silence filled the small vault. His grip on the girl was gone and there was movement around him but he slumped to the floor still.
“We’ll need you alive,” the fast hero said before snatching the gun from Jason’s limp hand and now throbbing wrist, surely broken from the speed. The police filtered in, and there was movement and noise, and someone came to cuff him and escort him out, but Jason couldn’t bring himself to care.
He didn’t care, but there was a part of him that was a little angry he wasn’t dead.
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