Young Writers Society

So this is Jason. Like everything else in my life right now, he was nothing like I'd anticipated. He was younger than I would have thought possible, hardly older than the prince. I suppose that made it worse, and that I should mourn the fact that someone so young already had such a horrendous reputation, instead hating every last inch of that unweathered personage.
I suppose.
His appearance was even more shocking. The Jason I had come to picture had been-grisly. He had long matted hair that hung in greasy clumps around his face, features marred by badly healed scars and dirt; a huge and lanky body, with abnormal muscles bulging out in unappealing places. Skin sallow and cracked, and to top it all off a wicked grin filled with rotted, yellow teeth. Overall you typical ragged, mangy, rough-living criminal; only quadrupled.
This Jason had short, crisp dark brown hair that looked black in the shadows cast by the dimly lit room. His face will filled with sharp, articulate angles and cheekbones. His skin had the unhealthy look of someone who hadn’t seen enough sun recently, but was otherwise appeared—normal. He was tall, but not overly large. As he turned I saw the faint outline of well developed biceps under his dark stretcher shirt, and briefly noted how well he filled out tat stretcher in general. Briefly.
Aside from that he was far from the bloodthirsty savage I had come to picture him as. In many ways he didn’t look much different from the royal advisors and officers I knew only to well. His appearance was, refined giving him the look of cool, casual elegance every member of the court possessed.
Only on him, that elegance felt my like the graceful leaping tiger just before it sinks its claws into its prey. I know, a wonderful comparison.
His eyes snapped toward mine. I gasped involuntarily. My heart raced, thumping in my chest like it was trying to escape and leave the rest of me behind. His eyes were dark grey, like storm clouds. In my nightmares they had been wild, manic; but now they were cool, calculating, emotionless. Eyes that saw the world as a series of problems and possible solutions, where human life was nothing more than numbers in the equation to be added or taken away at will.
Well, I had wondered how any human being could have committed such a crime, and now I had my answer.
I felt the blood rush under my skin. My hands clenched in fists so tight I thought the fingernails would rip through my skin.
I wanted to rush, to rip that revolting calm of his skin. I wanted to rip, and rake, and tear; force some of the horror and pain that had been coursing through me in the last few hours into those soulless eyes. I wanted to mutilate, to feel him writhe in agony under my fingertips; make him feel a fraction of the terror and hopelessness of those whose lives he destroyed.
I wanted to kill.
I blinked, shocked at my own bloodthirsty rage. But not able to deny it either.
I took a deep breath, resisting the violent urges, pushing back against the overwhelming hate. With each breath I gained more and more control. Slowly I regained my composure. I lifted my gaze towards his. He was still looking at me; his eyes appraising me in a way that made me feel like the deer in the tiger scenario. I met his gaze levelly though, putting on my fiercest and most fearless expression.
He didn’t blink. He cocked his slightly to one side, as though I were mildly interesting display. Within a moment though he had dismissed me as unimportant and refocused his attention on leader. I exhaled, completely unaware that I had been holding my breath. I cast my eyes down; sure I had just attracted a lot of unwanted attention. A few people had been eying my curiously, confusedly, even fearfully. But now they were all watching Jason and leader, who seemed to be locked in some sort of staring contest as they were each eying each other with that same chillingly calm expression. At least that was how it appeared. Upon closer look I realized leader was unimaginably tense, each muscle straining against the tendons that bound them. Jason however was relaxed, at least in the physical sense.
It was really no wonder that leader broke down first.
“Jason, we-“
“I know.” Jason’s voice was low and quiet.
Leader blinked once. “Then you know we had no choice.”
“No choice” Jason repeated, and despite the low tone his voice carried clear across the room. “No choice but to disobey a direct order?” He still spoke in that eerily calm voice, yet Leader stiffened. He lifted up his up hands slowly, palms facing outward; a peace gesture.
“Things changed” he replied smoothly “You have to let me explain.”
“Do I?” Jason’s voice, though barely audible, sounded dangerously, terrifyingly quiet. He took a step closer.
“You don’t listen to me, so you must not need me at all.” He said this almost casually, but the entire group flinched like they’d been slapped. Up close, I could the tenseness of his muscles despite his casual demeanor. From far away, he size hadn't seemed that menacing, but now I could see the outlines of strength that you wouldn't get in a standard all-natural training program. They didn't look like the type of thing you'd get from M-toner Operation either. They looked like they'd come from acatual sweat and blood, which I found positively terrfying.In addition each one was coiled together like a spring, and spring so tight it couldn't be that much longer before they were released. I didn’t want to know what would happen when they did.
Leader paled at his words, and now when he spoke his voice carried an almost desperate sense of urgency.
“Opportunity struck, one we couldn’t ignore.”
Jason paused, like a cat halted in its prowling. His eyes flicked toward leader, looking for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem too able to find it. He blinked, eyes staying shut for a little to long to be normal, before speaking.
“Then please, Ryder, Enlighten me.”
“Ryder?” I muttered, completely caught off guard. I couldn’t help it. “Like the craft?” Someone stifled a chuckle, but other than that they completely ignored me.
Ryder, it seemed, had not waited for another invitation, which meant I had missed part of what he said.
“—and Ali’s been tracking the Tri screens and she noticed a pattern in the weather.” He spoke hurriedly, as though afraid Jason might change his mind about letting him speak. “There would be a power surge, strong enough to allow us to infiltrate their defenses; if we had waited to clear it with you it would have been too late.” He paused and took in a huge lungful air, having said all of this in one breath.
Jason considered this information, then took a deep exaggerated sigh and ran his hand through his hair. He put on a sort of weird grimace, before turning back towards the group.
“Well, I guess that changes things,” but it hadn’t. I could tell by the way his shoulders were relaxed and poised yet his hands were clenched in fists. He was up to something; and I had a feeling that, whatever it was, Ryder and his follows weren’t going to come off to good.
He turned away from them, as though contemplating something, and then he snapped back toward Ryder.
“I Know!” He said suddenly, snapping his fingers. I almost jumped, startled by the contrasting vibrancy of his tone, and the complete out-of-characterless of it all. “Maybe, you’d like to be Mission Commander.” He said with mock seriousness. “You’re already giving your own orders, making decisions that affect not just you but the entire operation.”
His voice turned cold at that last part, so cold it sent chills down my spine. He took a step toward Ryder. His eyes, once that mysterious cool grey, had now turned coal-black.
I could tell now that he was angry. Though I suppose he’d been so along. But now, now he was furious. And that fury radiated off of him ina searing heat wave, excdpt for icy cold. So this had been the infamous anger Eve had been talking about. The intensity, the power, the ferocity of it was lacerating.
But I wouldn’t exactly call it spitting.
As he swept closer to me I shrank back, though tried to look like I wasn’t doing so.
“And when the entire mission collapses into total chaos and were reduced to nothing more than plundering, squabbling vagrants.” He snarled, “On your head be it.”
Then he turned, as if he were fully prepared to act on his own condemning statement.
I could feel the panic rising up in those around me, and now I understood the logic behind his approach. It was really brilliant, if you think about. He had subdued them without ever having to get in their face. Before he had taken more than a couple a steps, Ryder cried out.
“That’s not all.”
Jason stopped in his tracks, again. He wheeled around to face Ryder, and I noticed that his face no longer furious or disappointed, simply curious.
Ryder noticed too, he grimaced before continuing.
“Miguel was monitoring the feeds when he saw a royal destroyer.” A shocked murmur cascaded through the group. Many of the rebels exchanged anxious glances before focusing on Jason. He, to say something, looked liked his curiosity had been heightened, but that was it. Hardly the response they’d been looking for. They shrank away, dissapointed.
“We tapped into their audio system, they didn’t know anything about us, but…” he cast a sideways glance of me.
“They’re further along than we originally thought,” he finished.
An icy tension spread across the room at that point, followed by silence. The intensity of it made me dizzy.
It was unmistakably want these words meant for them.
Fear. Naked, uncontrollable fear.