Even Tungsten Melts...

It was terrifying. She might as well have been willingly going over a cliff into a volcano. Her heart told her so, as well as the tension in her body, even her racing thoughts, something alien to her. She always kept her thoughts under control. That’s what she was trained to do. Stay calm, and control your own mind, otherwise, the enemy will do it for you, and if they have your mind, they have your life. She kept her mind under her own for her entire life. Until that moment. It wasn't the first “dilemma” she was given, but it was the most important. A strike to the throat or a strike to the eyes? Reload or run? Kabar knife or Karambit? Their life or yours?

To be truthful, the choice over who lives and who dies was always easy to her. The moment she was strong enough, she snapped her arrogant commanding officer’s neck and was taking lives ever since. Mostly worthy challengers, some of the superpowered kind, others as deadly assassins like herself, but never like this one. He should have been dead by now. His pink pumping blob in his head should be scattered all over the room by now, or his neck twisted unnaturally around, heck even a knife in his jugular. Yet here Sasha Bordeaux was standing over a restrained boy, no older than herself, a weakling, her superiors would call him. And he appeared as one. He was dark like her, his skin now bruised, cut up and his black matted hair disheveled. His eyes...his eyes told something different. Although she easily beat him into unconsciousness, got him under her mercy, here he was, on his knees still looking up at her with that look. 

She felt cold tremors run up her back. Nobody has ever looked at her like that before. Nobody alive anyway. Nobody knew, without a doubt, that their lives were a moment’s notice away from ending. Yet his eyes stayed the same. Not with the hot anger of curses under his breath, or wide with terror, but with an urging, a longing. A longing for what? Did he want to die? No, he couldn’t. He wouldn't go all this way to find her, to try and negotiate with her. Besides what many think, you would have to be an idiot to think you could do the impossible and come out alive. Yet the teen boy below her wasn't no idiot. He somehow distracted highly trained armed soldiers, infiltrated their base, and found her. Her. He didn't even try to fight, and if he could, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance. She’s trained in every unarmed form of combat since birth and knew plenty of ways to make him paralyzed for life. If he wasn't an idiot or had a death wish, what the hell was he doing with that look in his eyes?

Why did it feel like her life was the one that was about to end?

He opened his mouth to speak but the earlier blow in his ribs sent him gritting his teeth. He looked back up through blurry eyes at her. He stared through the gun and at her. Her mud-brown eyes appeared dark like her jet black hair as she stared unwaveringly at him. To him, it appeared she was a drone, no faults in her design and lifeless. To her though…

She was in a nightmare. A cold realm of ghostly thoughts pulling her into something she did not want to go into. “You...don’t...have to do this…”

It was small, barely noticeable but she bit the inside of her lip, something she did not do for a long time. It was a sign of weakness to them. She shows no weakness. She didn’t even notice it. The boy did. His old comic books inspired him to learn about detective work, more specifically micro-expressions, and how to read people. It helped him rarely, but in this instance, he took the opportunity. “I know… your back is against the wall...you're cornered-well not really- and it feels like you have no choice. Me or you right?”

His voice sent jolts of hot anger in her. She struck out with a foot and sent him to the ground. She had a knee on top of him and the pistol was so far jammed into his face, he could feel the cold steel sink into the hard bone. He choked out air, trying to breathe, to speak, but could only urge out “You have a choice!”

“Shut up,” she said coldly. Do it...finish it...just pull it...it's not even a pound of strength to end this…

An image flashed through her mind. She and the boy stood side by side, with binoculars in a strange world, one ruled by walking reptiles. While she assessed the situation with the accuracy and efficiency of a trained assassin, the boy simply smiled, grinning as the reptiles below wandered with their swords and lances of fire. “Why aren't you dead already?’ the girl asked him. He turned to her, away from his binoculars. “Guess I’m riding some synchronicity wave. “ he looked at her with no fear, no weariness like her peers did. He didn't look at her as someone who could break him or kill him in his sleep. Not as a tool like her superiors did or a means of pleasure like old flames before. He looked at her in a way nobody ever did before. She didn't know the name of it. She could only remember the feeling: confusion, fear, but a sense of warmth.

“What is a synchronicity wave?” she asked him. The boy shrugged. “Ah, just some reference. Chap ol’ fellow John Constantine,” he had a bad English accent. “Gives me pure luck. I’m in the right place at the right time. Somehow I always get out of it.  Well… I don't actually have that ability because it's...not real...you know what I mean. “

“I don't. Not at all.”

“Well...people I meet, places I go to...That Constantine goes to I mean. It's at the right time. Y’know? I mean I can't really explain it any easier Sash’” he nicknamed her. Nobody nicknamed her. He was close to having a steel-toed boot in the back of his knee but over time, the nickname stuck, without his injury. Until today.

Sasha was back in that cold metal room, pistol against the boy's forehead. She stood up, giving the boy a sense of air. He gulped it in, coughing as the words echoed in her skull.

Synchronicity wave… right place...right people...right place...like her?

She sent a boot into his ribs, rolling him over. She could see the pain in his eyes. She used to be immune to that. She was good at closing her “heart’ off to the enemy. Especially to friends. She never had any. Not really. Only cohorts, partners she’d run missions with, but they either die or move on to other contracts. Or she did. She just got better with every kill. Got assigned to more challenging enemies. Deadlier opponents. That meant becoming stronger on the inside and out. Even Tungsten can melt though…

She nudged a foot on his other side, rolling him back on his back. He opened his restrained hands and looked back up at her. He was still looking at her like that! Why didn't he-

“Stop looking at me!” she raised her voice louder than she meant to. She could feel the emotions leaking out of her, like steam through a kettle, they rose as the boy stared at her. Close your heart off. Close it…

“You know who you remind me of?” The boy said to her. Sasha was back, in the past, this time alongside the boy on an earth where feudal Japan was stuck in a loop in time, yet still moving forward, uninterrupted by invaders and foreign forces. They were on a bare path in the forest, with only the bare essentials. Sasha was trying to track how many more clicks west they were going, trying to ignore the boy rambling on until he caught her attention. “What?” she said irritably. “Floyd. Floyd Lawton.”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“You got ten minutes? “ the boy grinned. She could have strangled him then, but the two still had three hours to go before they got to their destination. After his quick history of the character, Sasha shrugged. “That sounds nothing like me?’

“Really? Deadly assassin? Bad childhood-although I don't know if you did have one or not- expert in firearms. Seems like a scary bad guy, but is actually a likable badass. Anti-hero vibes. Plus behind all that Batwoman gruff and brooding-” Garrett patted her chest. She was quick to catch herself from grabbing his wrist and snapping it. “You have a heart.”

Sasha paced around the room, back in the present day. The boy watched her as she was lost in thought. Three minutes passed since the alarm went off since the troops were alerted and it was an all-point alert for the intruders. Hundreds of men should be armored up, ready to storm every inch of the facility and exterminate the cockroach. She had another five minutes before they’d make it to her section and root out the menace. If the boy- if Garrett Thompson wasn't dead on her stark platinum floor by then, it would be a lot of explaining to do to the soldiers and her superiors. Either way, the boy would be dead. Dead by her hand, or dead after hours-maybe days of torture. His device, the artificial intelligence A.D.O.N.N.A. would be taken and reverse engineered. Either way, her objective would be complete: Kill and retrieve the multiversal property. With the device, Sasha and the regime can conquer not only their world but the remaining others. Each earth at a time.

There would be resistance. Many men would die, she knew that. Any opposition would fail in the way of the regime. The weapons they reverse-engineered from their world’s villains and heroes would be written down in mythology and history after they’ve taken those worlds. Plenty of people would die. Citizens...like women...and children…

She was staring down at a little girl, in ragged robes, hair large and curly, similar to Sasha’s. Yet behind the poverty struck village, the girl had a brightness in her eyes. Garrett, Sasha, and their new friend Raizen saved a village from a fear-absorbing monster. After all that carnage, after all the fire and screaming, the little girl had time to find a flower, and hide it as she urged the girl to pick her up, where she’d put it in her hair. What Sasha felt that day was that same warmth, only for that child. She saved their home. Saved that child. Why would she go and kill another?

It doesn't-

“Make sense!” Sasha yelled. Garrett stared at her across the room. She punched the wall and eyed him. She aimed the gun back at him. Garrett struggled to sit up, but when he did, he nodded to her. “Sucks, doesn't it? To have a conscience? To realize everything you’ve been taught, that you have believed in is a lie!”

“Shut up!” She gritted. “Shut up shut UP SHUT UP!” she roared in his face. He still sunk his eyes into hers. Her eyes became blurry. Her composure of indestructible alloy started to fall apart. Kill him. Just kill him. It’ll be all over...you’ll be okay. You're always okay! Do it! DO IT!

Sasha stared hard at him. Garrett slowly nodded. “I still believe in you Sash’. Whatever you do, know that I still believe in you. Because-ow- look at me-” Garrett put up his hands. He wiped blood from his nose, eyeing her. “I’m at your mercy. And yea I’m scared shitless. But not at you. But what you can become if you don't stop sooner or later.”

She jammed the gun in his face. He shrugged his head away and kept speaking. “You have all these gifts. All this power. For so long you’ve been letting old greedy men dictate what you do with it. Aren't you tired of that? Don't you want to make a decision of your own? You feel trapped. You’re not. I know you’re better than this. You’re a her-”

She hit him. She thought it would take him out. Only he simply sat back up and groaned. His head came back up and stared at her. They didn't have much time. The troops would be storming the section in only two minutes. She imagined them clearing section R already, and storming up to the private section by now.

“Shut your fucking mouth! You’re just lying to me!” she couldn't stop the tears from falling. “Why would I lie huh? As far as i know, I’m already dead! I’m not going to lie to you. When have I ever had huh? You have so much more to give to others. To this world. To other worlds. Because you have power. And with great power comes great-”

“Responsibility,” Garrett continued. Only the two weren’t in the facility. They were at Garrett’s homeworld. They were in his school’s lunchroom. What was once an empty table where the “Weird comic book guy” lay, was now occupied by another outcast. “Believe it or not, it wasn't Uncle Ben that said that. It was Stan Lee.” Garrett slid his phone to her and zoomed in on the comic text box. Sasha viewed it, then looked up at him. “So?”

“So? We as people have the prerogative, the responsibility to help others who cannot help themselves. It's why Superman, Spider-man, and literally every other hero do what they do.”

“Who said I was a hero?” Sasha asked. Garrett grinned at her. “Spawn reference. Nice! You are learning aren't you, my disciple.”

She was serious then. Who said she was some savior, some hero that could scale rooftops and save innocent civilians? She had more bodies on her ledger than any other in the regime. And she was only sixteen years old. By eighteen, she would have been piling up in thousands. She was far from a hero.

Yet here he was, ready to die, shackled, still staring at her the same way he did all that time ago. The look in his eyes was faith. She never had faith. That was part of a belief system that the regime disintegrated a long time ago before she was even born. Only logic and facts remained. One was this: if he didn't die, she would. If not now, eventually. If doubt could creep into her mind now, eventually it will again. Her superiors will doubt her abilities, watch her, test her until one day she will slip. Then she’ll be dead. Another fact was this: other worlds will fall. More innocents will fall.

Sasha fell apart. Quiet sobbing erupted out of her. Garrett was wary, but slowly put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay Sash’. It's okay.”

She looked back up at him, eyes bloodshot and her face red with anger, with emotions she didn't know to name yet. It wasn't okay. Decimation was inevitable, as was when you crossed the regime. Unless…

A thought came to her head. She remembered a flash of a picture, a comic panel, Garrett shoved in her face in the past. Deathstroke vs. an army. One tactician, one assassin fought against a whole army of soldiers, and out came the last man standing. This wasn't a comic book though. This was reality. Reality burned all points of the opposition a long time ago. That included those graphic novels. The regime made sure of that. So why was she forming a plan in her head? Why was Sasha seeing it, visualizing the ending before she could stop her thoughts?

Garrett saw it too. Not the plan but the sudden change in her. He put both hands on her shoulders while he eyed the gun. It fell to the floor. He patted her. Sasha rose her head and faced him, her face not solid with apathy but with a fury he never saw in her. He grinned through bloody teeth. “Just remember. Everything that happens now is in your hands.”