"Mr. Butler taught me," Liam said, stepping up confidently. "He always made it for me."
He climbed onto a stool, standing in the center like a miniature chef commanding his kitchen. With a focused look, he began peeling the bananas with practiced hands, dropping each piece into a bowl. The others just watched — a mix of disbelief and curiosity painted on their faces.
Brandon crossed his arms. "This feels... deeply wrong."
Flux squinted. "Yeah. Like... morally confusing. We're being shown up by a 10-year-old."
"Well," Ethan added, sitting down, "at least he's saving us from starvation."
Liam paid them no mind, working with quiet precision. When he finally stepped back from the small pot simmering over their makeshift burner, he turned with a proud grin.
"Ta-da! Easy, right?"
Brandon was the first to taste it. His eyes widened.
"...Okay, this is actually good."
The others followed, nodding in agreement as they chewed — Daphne even gave Liam a little bow.
Then, silence.
All eyes turned to Jason, who hadn't touched his bowl.
"Aren't you gonna try it?" Brandon asked, still chewing.
Jason raised a hand slightly. "I'm good. You all enjoy it."
Liam's face dropped, disappointed.
Brandon narrowed his eyes... then smirked.
"Grab his arms. He's eating this whether he likes it or not."
Jason immediately backed up. "Don't even think about it—"
But Brandon was already charging toward him with a spoonful of bouyon fig. The others? They just stood behind, watching with amused smirks. Traitors.
Jason sidestepped, landed a light smack to the back of Brandon's head, and muttered, "Wrong move."
Brandon groaned dramatically. "You cowards betrayed me!"
As laughter settled, Flux turned to Liam.
"Okay, kid. Serious question. That was way too good for something made with scraps. How'd you learn to cook like that?"
Liam stood tall again, puffing his chest.
"Mister Butler taught me a secret song. He said he never shared it with anyone but me."
Then he cleared his throat.
"In the kitchen, start the show,
Peel the fig, take it slow.
Slice it clean, drop it right,
Boil it soft, not too tight.
Bouyon fig, salt and steam,
Simple food, but feels like dream."
And just as if it were rehearsed, Jason, still leaning against the wall, muttered the last line — barely above a whisper.
But they heard him.
Everyone turned to look. Jason didn't meet their eyes.
Brandon stepped closer, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"Bro… how do you know the full lyrics?" he teased, nudging Jason with an elbow. "Or wait… don't tell me—Liam's been giving you secret lessons?"
He laughed, not noticing the sudden shift in Jason's eyes.
"Back off," Jason said flatly, his tone dark.
But Brandon didn't stop. "Come on, man. Don't be shy about it. Liam's your soft spot now, huh?"
Jason's tone dropped, low and sharp. "I said back off."
But Brandon just chuckled, nudging him again. "What? So I'm right aren't I?. Liam taught you the song, didn't he or—?"
Jason's eyes darkened. His jaw tightened. In a flash, his fist shot out like lightning cracking against with Brandon's jaw with brutal precision . The impact sent Brandon stumbling backward, crashing to the ground.
The room froze.
Jason stood over him, voice cold, steady, and dangerous. "I warned you." Eyes locked with Brandon's, now wide with shock. "Next time… I won't stop at a punch. We're not friends. Don't act like we are."
Without waiting for a response, Jason turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him with finality.
No one dared move as Jason turned and stormed out, his footsteps heavy with rage.
Flux blinked, looking down at Brandon. "Dude… what the hell?"
"He was just messing around," Ethan muttered, watching the door Jason disappeared through.
Daphne stood frozen, a familiar unease settling into her chest. She remembered now—the Jason before Liam. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
She rushed to Brandon and knelt beside him. "Are you okay?"
Brandon wiped blood from his lip and chuckled faintly. "I'm alive. But damn… he hits like a freight train."
Ethan came beside him. "You pushed him too far."
Flux crossed his arms. "Yeah… what made you think you could clown around with Jason like that?"
Daphne stood suddenly, determination on her face. "I'm going after him."
Flux raised a brow. "Just try to get back in on piece."
She didn't respond—just ran out.
Liam had been quiet the whole time. He slowly stepped forward, eyes wide.
"Is Jason… okay?"
Ethan hesitated, then crouched to meet his eyes.
"He's just… going through a lot. Don't worry, kid. He'll be fine."
Liam didn't answer. He just kept staring toward the door, the same one Jason had walked through… the same one that now seemed so far away.
Jason's boots hit the gravel as he stepped out into the night. The cold air bit at his face, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning beneath his skin. He kept walking—past the dim motel lights, past the rusted fence, past the noise behind him that he wanted to forget.
His mind spun, memories flashing like broken glass. —clenched and shaking.
He stopped under a flickering streetlight, he seated on a bench nerby, head bowed. His breath fogged the air in short, tense bursts.
Suddenly, a sound—soft footsteps behind him. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said, his voice low.
Daphne stepped into the light and sat a little distance besides him, "Neither should you."
He didn't move.
"You didn't have to hit him at least not in front of liam," she added.
"He wouldn't shut up."
"He was just messing around."
Jason turned slowly, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlight. His eyes met hers—sharp, tired, guarded. "That's exactly the problem. This isn't a game."
Daphne looked away for a second, then back at him, her voice trembling. "You're not alone in this, Jason. Stop pushing everyone away." Her eyes glistened, her lips quivering like she was on the edge of falling apart. And it was clear… she wasn't just talking about Jason.
Jason's gaze narrowed. He noticed the weight behind her words. Still, he turned his eyes forward, voice cold. "You're one to talk. You've been distant since we got here."
Daphne gave a faint, hollow smile. "Yeah…" She dropped onto the bench, pulling her knees up, arms wrapped tightly around them. "I watched my best friend get killed—right in front of me. I just stood there like a coward… while the bullet tore through her skull. I didn't scream. I didn't move. I couldn't even save her."
Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
Jason didn't flinch. "People die. That's what they do. You can't save everyone."
Daphne turned sharply, disbelief flooding her expression.
Jason's tone didn't change. "What would you have done? Jumped into the line of fire and died with her? You can't even defend yourself. Better you stayed out of it."
She stood slowly, hands shaking at her sides, jaw clenched tight as if she was holding herself together with nothing but rage. She turned away, ready to walk off—
But his voice stopped her.
"…Liam wasn't the first person I heard that song from."
She froze.
Jason's voice dropped, strained now—like dragging words from an old wound. "It was my mentor…"
He looked down at his hands—trembling slightly, for the first time. "He sang it the day before he died.."
His eyes met hers again, and for a second, the ice in his stare cracked.
"I was starving that day.I was just Fourteen years old, sick of the agency's bland food. So, I went to him for help. He promised he'd make something... something different."
Flashback:
Jason's stomach growled loudly as he stormed up to Simon, his face set hard.
"Simon, I'm starving. I need something to eat ."
Simon blinked, unimpressed. "Then eat at the cafeteria like everyone else."
Jason shook his head, voice low but firm. "Not today. I want something else."
Simon folded his arms, pausing, then smirked. "Alright, maybe I know just the thing to fix your mood."
He vanished for a moment and returned with a handful of strange ingredients. Jason raised an eyebrow. "What's all this?"
Simon's grin turned cocky. "An old recipe an old friend taught me. Comes with a song, too."
He cleared his throat and sang smoothly:
"In the kitchen, start the show,
Peel the fig, take it slow.
Slice it clean, drop it right,
Boil it soft, not too tight.
Bouyon fig, salt and steam,
Simple food, but feels like dream."
Jason chuckled but joined in, their voices syncing oddly.
When the cooking was done, Jason stared at the bowl with suspicion. The food looked... questionable. "What is this?"
Simon shrugged. "Bouyon fig. My friend only made it once, but it's supposed to be good."
Jason swallowed hard, a nervous edge in his voice. "I hope I don't die eating this."
He scooped a spoonful, tasted it, then froze. His face twisted, unsure if it was disgust or surprise. Simon leaned in, eager for a verdict.
"How is it?"
Jason kept chewing, silent. Finally, Simon tried it himself, dipping the spoon deep.
His face crumpled. "This is so bad, it could make a grown man cry."
Jason laughed dryly. "Yeah... it's terrible."
"We should toss it. No one deserves this torture."
Jason grinned and grabbed the bowl. "No way. You made this for me. I'm eating every bite."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna get a stomach ache."
But Jason was already shoveling the food in, tears streaming down his cheeks. Simon chuckled and joined him, both of them devouring the awful dish.
Suddenly, Simon flicked a dollop onto Jason's nose.
Jason yelped, kicking him playfully. "What was that for?!"
Simon just shrugged, innocent.
Jason smirked, grabbing a big spoonful and flinging it back. The kitchen exploded into chaos — food flying everywhere as they laughed until they couldn't breathe.
Once they finished, Simon smirked and said, "You do realize we're cleaning this mess up, right?"
Jason was already backing away, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Not my problem. It's your recipe—your mess. You clean it."
He turned to run, but Simon grabbed the back of his shirt and effortlessly lifted him off the ground. "Nope. We're doing this together." His eyes glinted with mischief.
Jason struggled, groaning, "Nooo—let me go!"
Back in the present, Jason's smirk deepened. "Guess who ended up doing all the cleaning?"
Even Daphne couldn't help but laugh.
Just then, Jason lowered his head, voice barely above a whisper.
"I really messed everything up..."
Daphne caught the shadow in his eyes — but she could tell… he wasn't talking about what just happened. Her hand reached halfway toward him, fingers trembling, then paused midair. She drew it back slowly. But then—out of nowhere—she let out a soft laugh.
Jason looked up, confused.
"What's so funny?"
Daphne tried to hold it in but failed.
"Cosmic Dream Chaser," she repeated between laughs.
Jason blinked… then let out a faint, reluctant chuckle.
"You saw that…?"
"Every second," she smirked. "You were completely hilarious."
The air lightened, if only for a second. Then Daphne stood, brushing her skirt off.
"Anyway… I should head in."
She took a step, and when Jason didn't reply, she turned to go.
But then his voice broke the silence.
"…Thanks, Daphne."
Not cold.
Not distant.
Warm… real.
She froze. Heart skipping.
When she glanced back, his gaze wasn't sharp — it was soft. Grateful.
Flustered, she spun away.
"Y-you're welcome!"
And with her cheeks burning, she bolted off toward the motel door — faster than she meant to.
Jason watched her disappear. For a brief moment, the flickering streetlight above him felt… just a bit steadier.
Meanwhile, back at the Agency…
Inside Raven's dimly lit office, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Raven sat at her desk, fingers rhythmically tapping against the wood. Her brows were slightly furrowed — calm on the surface, but clearly calculating.
"They should've been back by now…" her voice was low, laced with concern.
Amelia stood near the window, arms crossed. "It's not just the delay… it's the silence. Not a single update in three days? That's not like them."
Ava, lounging on the edge of the desk, rolled her eyes. "Relax. It's Jason. And he's got Vortex with him. You're acting like he's new to this."
Amelia turned sharply. "You really think it takes this long just to secure a kid? Something's not right."
Ava stood abruptly, irritation flashing in her eyes. "Then maybe you should hop a jet to Saint Lucia and go play hero!"
"Enough," Raven said coolly, her voice slicing through the rising argument like ice. She raised her eyes to Ava, steady and unreadable. "Ava… did you have anything to do with the delay?"
Ava's face dropped, feigning offense. "What? Are you serious right now?!"
"I'm not accusing," Raven replied, her voice neutral. "I'm eliminating variables. One week. If they're not back by then, we send in another unit."
Ava scoffed, arms raised. "All this for one random kid. What's so special about him? Is he some kind of walking vault key?"
Raven's eyes darkened. "We'll find out when he arrives. You're dismissed."
As Ava and Amelia exited the room, the hallway felt even colder. The door had barely shut before Amelia slammed Ava against the wall.
"If I find out you had anything to do with slowing them down… I swear—"
Ava smirked. "What? You worried about Jay-jay now? Cute. Weren't you the one who cut ties with him after Simon died?"
Amelia's jaw clenched. She released her grip and started walking away.
Ava called after her, voice dripping with mockery. "Getting protective now, huh? What'll you do if I was involved? Kill me?"
Amelia paused, glancing over her shoulder with ice in her stare.
"If I have to."
Then she vanished down the corridor, leaving Ava smiling to herself.
Today was the day. Flux and Ethan were finally making their move—smuggling themselves out of the country. The plan was set for evening. For now, they waited.
The room was dimly lit, tension hanging in the air like smoke. They sat around the dusty table, whispering over final details. Jason still hadn't returned—. Brandon had followed Liam to wash up. That left Ethan, Flux, and Daphne.
After a brief silence, Daphne leaned forward. "Hey, Ethan…" she said, her eyes narrowing. "You never told me how you two made it out of that bomb trap."
Ethan opened his mouth. "Well, we—"
"It's a long story," Flux interrupted with a smirk. He stood up, arms wide like he was setting the stage. "There we were—seconds from being blown to hell. The timer's ticking. No escape. Panic in the air." He paused dramatically. "Then it hit me: If you can't cut the rope… loosen it."
Ethan scoffed as Flux threw a smug glance his way.
"Kinda my idea," Flux added, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder like a hero from a movie.
Daphne blinked, impressed. "That's… brilliant."
Flux grinned. "Ten seconds, tops. We were out. The bastard who set the trap figured we'd waste time trying to cut through—never thought we'd go around it."
Ethan crossed his arms. "Yeah, genius over here saved the day. But man… if I hadn't told Jason it was me back then, he'd have broken my leg for sure."
Just then, Liam walked in, catching the tail end. "Break your leg? Why would Jason do that?"
The room went dead silent for a beat.
Then—forced laughter erupted.
"It's—hah—it's a game!" Ethan stammered, shooting a look at Flux. "Right, Flux?"
Flux gave him a blank stare. "Don't drag me into your lies."
Daphne jumped in, laughing nervously. "Yeah! It's like… 'Truth or Break My Leg.' Fun, right?"
Liam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "So… like Truth or Dare, but with violence?"
"Exactly!" they all said in unison, a little too quickly.
Liam smirked. "Alright then. I'm in. Let's play."
They all exchanged glances—but decided to play anyway.
They'd been playing for two straight hours—lies, truths, and close calls thrown like daggers across the room. The laughter had dulled into quiet tension.
Then—the door creaked open.
All heads snapped toward it.
Jason stepped in, shadowed in the doorway. His eyes swept over the room slowly, pausing on the group huddled around the table. For a moment, he said nothing—just watched. Cold. Calculating.
Then he turned, as if he had no interest.
"Jason!" Liam's voice rang out.
Jason stopped mid-step. Didn't look back.
Liam walked up, eyes searching his. "Where've you been?" he asked, grabbing his hand—not with suspicion, but with something close to relief.
Jason's voice was flat. "Out."
Liam gestured back toward the group. "We're playing a game."
Jason's brows furrowed. "What game?"
"Truth or Break My Leg." Liam said it casually, like it was nothing.
Jason turned his head, sharp. His expression said it all: What kind of twisted game is that?
"…Truth or what, now?" he asked slowly.
Liam just laughed, brushing it off. "Oh, come on. You and Ethan played it once—remember? Now quit acting like you're new. Get over here."
"I don't think—" Jason began.
But Liam wasn't listening. He was already dragging him toward the circle, clapping him on the back like it was all normal.
Jason sat down reluctantly, eyes darting between their faces.