All the yellow tape wrapped around the house was the only thing keeping young Jason's attention. A detective with kind eyes and a soft tone was speaking, but the words jumbled in the eight year old's mind. The man with a shiny badge clipped to his belt kneeled down next to Jason and grasped his shoulder gently. Finally snapping his attention away from the yellow lines reading caution, he began to piece together what the man was trying to say. "There's a woman on her way here. You'll be going with her tonight for a warm meal and a bed to sleep on. Tomorrow I'll be seeing you again to ask you more questions…" The kind strangers voice trailed off. "about your mommy and daddy." Jason's eyes shot to the covered bodies on the floor of his family's farm house. The blood from their wounds soaked through the white sheets. It was an image that would haunt him for years to come.

The next six years of his life were a blur of foster homes, indifferent or hostile foster parents and siblings, and lots of pain and suffering. In the beginning, the complaint against his character was he was too quite and broody, never wanting to eat, bath, or speak. Then, as he entered his teenage years, it was that he was too angry and violent, setting fires, fighting in school, and even once breaking the nose of one of his foster fathers. No one stopped to ask if the cause of his sudden change in behavior had anything to do with the bruises covering his body, some in the shape of hands much larger than his own.

Adoption was out of the question since day one. No home wanted a child who had witnessed the murder suicide of his parents. Too big a risk he guessed. He imagined those potential parents, wide eyed and panicked at the idea of dealing with an emotionally disturbed child. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Jason seemed to catch a break. He was now fourteen, and back in the orphanage once again, located on the out skirts of Jump City. A man in his late thirties entered the lobby, visible from the group home's common room, where Jason currently sat mindlessly shuffling playing cards.

The man instantly caught Jason's attention because he looked extremely different from anyone he'd seen walk through those front doors over the years. He was sharp dressed, covered shoulder to toe in expensive menswear. His hair was stylishly gelled and his sunglasses and watch look more expensive than Jason's entire existence. He exchanged what seemed, from the two's demeanor, harsh words with the desk attendant. Despite her protest, the man pushed passed her and entered the common area, where he looked over the seven boys that currently occupied the room. His intense gaze settled upon Jason. "Let's go boy." His voice was calm but stern. A mixture of fear and excitement shot through Jason.

"Now sir, you can't just-" He threw a stack of stapled papers her way and continued to exit the building, Jason trailing closely behind. "Any further discussion will be done through my lawyer." He dropped a card on the front desk and made way for the door. "Sir, my things…" Jason said softly. "You'll be needing none of that anymore." Luckily, Jason had on him the only possession he truly care about in his front pant pocket. A picture of him and his mother. So he said nothing else and left with this mysterious and demanding man.

His car matched his fancy clothes and entitled attitude. A sleek two door sports car, the kind Jason had only seen in action movies and cologne ads. He was surprised a vagrant like himself, a named he'd been called many times over, was even allowed in such an expensive work of art. He wondered for just a moment how the man supplemented his income. The car ride was as silent as it was awkward. The man never spoke or even glanced at the young man sitting in his expensive and luxurious machine. About an hour passed when they pulled into the gated driveway of an even more luxurious house- no, mansion, in a secluded area.

Jason shyly followed the recluse, wealthy man up the walkway that lead to huge, double wide metal doors. Metal doors? Jason became uneasy, and the thought of running crossed his mind. But his feet took on a life of their own and continued forward. Once inside, the uneasiness only grew as the doors automatically bolted once shut. The shifting gears seemed as cold as, what he was now assuming the man to be, his new guardian. "Follow me." They made their way through the chilly home. Through the main room, down the hall, passed many shut doors. The plain furniture and lack of decoration and artwork disturbed Jason further.

They reached a cracked open door at the end of the hall. Inside was a desk and a bed, bigger than any room or bed he'd ever seen, even when his parents were still alive. "The bathroom is through that door. All the clothing you require is in that closet there. Dinner is at 5 PM sharp everyday, even if I'm not home. Your education will take place within these walls, from 8 am to 2 PM, Monday through Friday. 2 PM to 5 pm will be for…. training, as well as 5am to 6am, followed by breakfast. Saturdays will be spent learning how to drive and Sundays are for cleaning." Jason remained silent as he noticed the camera mounted in the corner of his new room. "Bed time is 7pm sharp daily. You will refer to me only as Sir, and I you, solely as boy. The tutor you have during the week will be referred to as Mister and he to you as boy."

Sir noticed Jason shoot him a bewilder look and, surprisingly, Sir began to explain his reasoning. "During the last six years of your life, how often has your name even been used? Seems more likely you've been called by everything but that yes? Your name was given to you by your parents, something they took pride in, something they said aloud with love and hope." Sir's face hardened. "Well your parents are dead. I'm sure there was one person in your life, a case worker or maybe detective, that over used your name, trying to compensate for the world you'd have to face as a nobody. Well you can get that weakness out of your mind now." Jason, for the first time since the weeks that followed his mother's death, began to cry.

"Your place and purpose in this world was forever changed that day. And it is even more so now that I've found you." Found me? Why were you looking? What are you looking for? "So now your name is irrelevant. To me and to the rest of this God forsaken planet. And my name is irrelevant to you. I'm not your replacement father." Jason laughed in his head at this statement and the tears stopped. He was a lot like the cold father he remembered. The same cold father that spread his mother's brains all over their living room floor. A resentment toward his new owner began to fester. "I'm more of an investor. You're an investment. Do not disappoint me."

Sir turned to exit the room but stopped in his tracks to make one more statement. "If you're in front of a door anywhere in this house, and it's closed, STAY OUT." And with that, he was gone. Jason sighed. He walked to the closet and was left wide eyed with his jaw dropped. An endless array of colors. Shirts, pants, shoes, and… a motorcycle helmet? All brand new. He mulled over the cold words said to him moments ago, and compared them to his past households. The fear in his chest he felt at the orphanage upon first meeting Sir remained, but a new feeling of relief was beginning to grow. An investment huh? Better give this guy his money's worth.

The next two years with Sir were just as he had laid out during Jason's first day in the mansion. Training, breakfast, education, training, dinner, bed. Jason's favorite days were Saturday. He'd learned to maneuver all kinds of vehicles. Sports cars, trucks, sedans, even a mini van. But his favorite was the motorcycle. Shortly after mastering driving a stick shift car, Sir brought home a starter bike for Jason to practice on. In the strict schedule that was Jason's life, the bike made him feel free. No walls, no doors, no restraint. Sir insisted he know how to handle all these powerful machines at top speeds. And 120mph on a bike was as close to freedom as Jason could obtain.

Not that he wanted to be free. The structure provided in his house- his home- gave him a sense of purpose… and security. He knew the real world all too well. And this secluded slice of bliss was something be cherished. He even grew to appreciate Sir's cold demeanor. No need to play the perfect son, just perform adequately in his duties. And that's exactly what he had done. He excelled in all areas of academic studies. His martial arts training was at it's peak, nearly able to hit Sir more often than not lately. And he could drift a mini van into a parallel park as if he was spreading icing on a cake.

He also never let his curiosity get the better of him. Every closed door in the house, which were many, stayed closed. Partially because there were cameras placed in every crack and crevice in the cold mansion, and partially because he didn't want to go back out there, where things didn't make sense, where a father could kill a mother and leave a boy behind to fend for himself. But today Sir seemed off. Tense. Jason entered the dojo at 2:05pm sharp, as he always did after his studies. He noticed his master deep in thought.

"How long has it been boy?" "About two years Sir." "And with all I've given you, what have you given me boy?" "A very clean house Sir." Jason's dry wit forced a smirk onto Sir's face but Jason remained with a serious face. Humor never interested Sir and Jason knew his boundaries. "I need to show you something." Sir turned and pressed a seemingly random spot on the wall. The wall shifted inward and then slid open. "Follow me." All of Jason's progress momentarily flew out of the window, and he became that same scared fourteen year old boy. He did as he was told and made his way to the opening that lead to spiraled stairs.

This secret basement was even colder than the mansion. Jason was tense and fearful but followed into the unknown depths before him. When they reached the bottom, it was a cavern of computers, and blue prints, and … weaponry? In the middle of the room was a chair. "Sit boy." He did as he was told. Sir grabbed a tiny gadget from one of the many shelves in his lair and pressed it against Jason's chest. He was suddenly enveloped by constricting wires, pinning him to the chair he currently sat upon. "I told you that you were one of my investments, yes?" Jason gasps for air, unable to answer his master.

"I never told you why. You see, I knew your father. I employed your father. Your father made a promise to me. And when you make a promise to me boy," Jason noticed a long metal rod in Sir's hand. He watched as he placed that rod into what looked like burning red coals. "I collect on that promise, by any means necessary." The tip of the rod began to glow from heat. "I usually make investments after I've done every single bit of research as I possibly can, spending thousand of dollars on P.I.s, background checks, drug tests, even mental health issues." Sir turned to walk closer to Jason.

"I must have missed something with your father though. Who would have thought I'd be assed out of millions of dollars of research because of a love affair between your mother and… well… someone who cleaned up horse shit for a living." Jason saw that same smirk. Guess Sir did have a sense of humor after all. A twisted, dark sense of humor. "So just like many before us, Jason, you are here to pay for your father's sins." Jason shuddered. Aside from his current predicament, hearing his name said aloud made him the most uncomfortable. But soon his discomfort came from a much different feeling.

"You see, your father promised me a serum. A serum that would change the face of humanity. A serum that would take your average Joe, and turn him into a Superman. A Wonder Woman. A Flash." The smell of the cloth of his shirt burning made Jason nauseous as Sir pressed the hot metal against his skin. "And when I looked into the ruble that was the mess of his life, you know what I found?" He pressed a different spot, this time on Jason's back. "I found that he destroyed all research, all evidence, and production when he burned that suit case. Except for one thing." He pressed down again. "The serum he injected into you."

Jason scream in agony. He wanted to pass out, hoping the burning cloth and skin would fade as he lost consciousness. But the intense heat and Sir's deep, stern voice kept him from escaping into his mind. "I've been pushing you in every aspect of human existence and you show no signs of evolving. But I know your father was close. So very close to cracking the formula." He pressed again. You're gonna give me what I want Jason!" He pressed one final time. Sweating and confused, Jason tried to catch his breath. And for the first time in a long time, this was the man to once again make Jason crumble to tears.

"I've been wondering lately." He put the metal rod down. "If it's more of an emotional trigger. And after pushing your mind and body to it's limits over the passed two years and seeing no result…" Sir reached into his pocket. "If I have to push you in a different way." He pulled out the picture of Jason and his mother. The only thing keeping Jason from forgetting his mother's face, her smile. He also pulls out a liter. "Give me what I want." Sir's voice was calm. The fire came closer to the picture. Please don't. Jason cried harder. The picture went up it flames… no result. In the distance, with blurred vision, he saw an outfit in an elongated glass case. Black. Metal. Mask. The face half orange. And then he finally passed out.