He was sixteen when he learned he what he could do. It was February 23rd. One week after his birthday. It was the day he finally jumped off that building.

He remembered his mother's face, and his sister's scream. They weren't supposed to be there, they were supposed to be out shopping across town, but both decided to take a detour to see him.

The world seemed to be in slow motion when he fell. Because he could see their faces as the wind whipped around him as gravity did its work. He saw as their faces switched from scared and worried to terrified and confused when they realized it was him. And he could remember his final thought before he hit-

I'm sorry.

And then it was over- but it wasn't.

Words met his ears and they talked in gibberish and worry. He could hear crying and shouting.

He remembered thinking if that was what would happen after death. He remembered wondering if everything sounded the same. The questions caused him to open his eyes slowly and he hard as the voices hushed. Above him people stood bent over staring. He turned his head slightly to see police officers and EMTs were talking to his mother who was sobbing along with his sister off to one side.

"He's alive," one voice cut in. "He's alive!"

"He has no pulse," chimed another. "I'm sor-"

"No! Look!"

Jack barely remembered why he did at this point, but it was here that he sat up pulling himself from concrete. He looked down to find the clothes he had been wearing stained in a red liquid.

"Jack!"

He had looked up in time to see his mother sink to her knees open mouthed but with a smile and to see sister collide with him and pull him in a crushing hug as she whispered apologies in between her sobs.

They had taken him to the hospital, and his tests were normal, but in the end they had classified him.

He was mutant.

One with the inability to die.

Time passed and others thought it was a blessing, but he never had the heart to tell them that he would go to bed and hope to never wake up, or that he would constantly test the limits of his "power". But perhaps it was for the best, people were always so focused on his power that they all forgot to ask why he had jumped in the first place.

Months had passed before he realized he had stopped growing. He never grew the extra couple inches like his doctor had predicted, his hair never grew, and he never gained weight. His sister used to claim that he was the lucky one since he never had to worry about being fat, though others were always sure to point out his skinny frame. Others always found it an interesting point of conversation, but he always just thought it meant that his body had died and it was just waiting for his soul to join it. And to both's dismay it hadn't yet.

He had been sixteen.

And forever he would be sixteen.

When his mother and sister grew older and passed he was sixteen. When his grandchildren had children he was sixteen, and when they died too. He was sixteen when he stopped caring for people's voices or faces. He was sixteen when he began to isolate himself so he was free from the painless and the endless cycle of death humans were bound to.

And he had been sixteen when the Mutant Extermination began.

~~~~

"Boss! You're all bloody what happened?" One of them asked.

Jack kept his head down as he walked by, "Doesn't matter."

"Well if you killed Riley it kind of does, we need to clean it up," said another.

"He's alive. But he won't talk."

They could've said something else, but Jack didn't care to know what it was. He trudged on past toward his room and once inside he threw himself into his work. Just because Riley had changed him didn't mean that the plans had-

"Changed me huh?" Jack asked the ceiling gaining no response besides the slight welling of tears in his eyes. "Yeah I suppose he did... bastard..."

A knock came at the door and he quickly wiped away his tears just it creaked open.

"Boss?"

"Hmm?" He asked pretending to be pouring over the massive amount of papers spread across his desk.

"Can we talk?"

"Must we?"

"Please?"

Jack sighed and nodded and he heard the door click shut. He pushed his chair away from his desk and he looked up to see a girl's face. He searched her brown eyes, freckles and chestnut hair for trying to fit them with a name which he would forget once again in an hour.

She seemed to realize what he was doing because she spoke, "I'm Tara? The one you rescued when I was five?"

Jack nodded slowly as he pulled small details from his mind and attempted to piece them together, "You steal and give energy, correct?"

She gave a small smile as she nodded, "Exactly."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Her smile slipped, "It's about the others. Um..."

"You brought this up so spit it out."

"They're starting to doubt you," she told him. "They claim that if we're all really on the same side then you wouldn't have gone to meet Riley earlier and that Lucas Simmons would already be dead."

"He'll die soon, but it won't be by my hand," Jack told her. "I have no reason to involve myself in stupid matters like that when there's more work to be done. But trust me, Tara," he continued leaning forward in his seat. "All of this will go as planned."

"I've always trusted you. But the others they-"

"Let then say what they wish," Jack responded his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. "If they truly have a problem with me tell them to come talk to me themselves. You're your own person so stop acting like a lapdog."

Tara flinched at his tone then nodded slowly, "I-I will."

"Go."

She left quickly and Jack turned to his work with a sigh, the girl's name, identity, and their conversation already fading from memory.

~~~~

"Lucas Simmons is dead!" One cheered, Jack didn't care enough to know which. He passed them as he entered the kitchen and opened the pantry.

"He is?" Another asked.

"Yup! You did it Boss!"

Jack frowned seeing his favorite mug was gone and took another and a bag of his favorite tea. He was numb to their chatter as he prepared himself a cup from the tea kettle already hot from the stove. The smell wafted in his nostrils as he tried to ignore the memories of his mother's kitchen.

"Are you sure?"

"Look! The newest scout report just came in! He was killed!"

"Who by?" Chimed another one.

"By- Oh my god..."

"What? What?"

"He was killed by his brother... Riley Simmons."

Jack paused the mug just barely touching his lips, as he felt their eyes on him. "Is there something you'd like to say to me?" He took a sip of the hot drink before looking into the faces which blurred with one another.

"How did- how did you know he would- he'd kill his own brother?" One of them asked.

"Why would he kill his own brother?" Added another.

"How did you get him to?" Chimed one more.

Jack sipped at his steaming cup of nostalgia, and let them wallow in their questioning minds for a minute or so before he spoke, "Haven't I told you all not to ask questions that you already know the answer to? And not to ask questions that you don't want an answer to?"

Jack took another sip as he exited the kitchen, he heard the mumbled words of one of them calling after him, but he didn't listen.