He sat at his desk in the corner of the Center, which was how the oldest gathering chamber had come to be known as. It was nothing more than a large open cavern with several support pillars and various odd and end furniture, but it was now well lit and regularly patrolled by his 'personal guard'.

The thought made Mr. Black grimace, though he didn't show it outwardly. Even though he didn't often interact with anyone outside of barking orders, he seemed to have gained some kind of loyalty from a bunch of fanatics. He'd shoo them away time and time again, but they kept returning to his side when he wasn't looking, no matter how harsh or terrifying he tried to be.

Wherever he went in the underground fortress, they followed. Some were barely able to hold a weapon, but others were far more capable. Especially since some of his more trusted people joined their ranks when they were off duty. Though he suspected they only did so because they knew it irritated him.

He leaned forward on his desk, rested his chin in his hands, and glowered at two in particular. They had taken up a position beside the main doors, appearing casual and relaxed, but he knew better. They'd be the first to throw themselves at a skittering cockroach if they'd thought it'd try to bite him.

Mr. Black wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

After watching them for a while, he couldn't take it any longer. "Alainna. Seb."

Both of them snapped to attention at the sound of his voice. The young woman's face brightened, and she gave a sloppy salute, the kind that would make drill sergeants horrified. "Yes sir, Mr. Black!"

The other one remained silent, only giving a slow, deliberate blink. Most of his skin, including that of his face, was covered in layers of yellowed linen bandages, but his clear, sharp green eyes were ever alert.

Mr. Black didn't miss how the other people in the room seemed to perk to attention, much like a group of eager puppies. Their names hadn't been called, but maybe he'd grace them with his attention. He could see that hope on their faces. Unfortunately for them, he wouldn't do so. Not just because he had no clue what their names were - why would he care for the names of stumbling fanatical idiots? - but because he had no use for them.

He lifted his chin from his hands and crooked a finger at the two he'd named. "Come."

Alainna grinned as she obeyed his order, humor in her eyes. Behind her, Seb seemed to float like a ghost, silent and unobtrusive. Mr. Black observed them for a moment. The two made a good pair. One was brash, inexperienced and full of eagerness, while the other was an older veteran, cunning and wise. Although complete opposites in personality and skill sets, they complimented and worked well together. And - he smirked a little - now they were observing him as closely as he was them.

So cute. They learned quickly. Well, in Alainna's case. Seb was an old hand at this sort of stuff, which kind of sucked the fun out of it. Still, it was amusing to see her imitate Seb and himself.

"Alainna," he said mildly. "Report."

Startled by his sudden request, she froze on the spot. "Huh? I already told you everything when you got back the other day."

Mr. Black smiled. It was a gentle curve, with sharp edges. "Oh? You don't wish to?"

Alainna shivered, blinking a couple of times. Though she did a decent job of hiding it from her expression, he could easily read the uncertainty in her body language. "But ... I don't have anything to..." She cut herself off, then tried again, cautiously. "What do you want me to report on?"

Better. But not quite there. Mr. Black's smile widened just a tad. It was the only thing visible on his face, since the rest of it was shadowed within his hood. "What do you think I should know?"

"Um," she bit her lip, thinking hard. Her expressions changed a bit throughout her thought process. No doubt she was trying to guess what the right answer was to his question.

Mr. Black watched the show patiently. He was aware that Seb was silently watching him, though the bandaged man's thoughts were much harder to read. Whatever the man was thinking, Mr. Black wasn't bothered by it.

"Oh!" Alainna brightened, having thought of something. "That girl! Um... Ava, right?" She paused, but Mr. Black did nothing to stop her. Feeling encouraged, she continued. "This morning, she asked if she could start working in the infirmary. Apparently, she got tired of sitting around doing nothing, and figured she might as well do something while she was here. It didn't seem like a bad idea, since everyone's keeping an eye on her anyway."

"Hm." Mr. Black felt a faint flicker of surprise. That girl didn't seem like much more than a frightened rabbit when he first brought her here, though he knew she was braver than she appeared. Although he had been already aware of her request to help out, he hadn't realized she'd actively chosen the infirmary. She was brave. Especially if one considered that roughly half of the people he had here were direct residents from the Forbidden Zone.

"What else?" He prodded.

She beamed, delighted that she was on the right track. "The other guest - that cranky old guy - he's been locked up in one of the west storage rooms again. He tried to beat up one of the kids when they refused to tell him how to get out of here."

She chuckled, and Mr. Black felt amused. The cranky old guy was the second 'guest' he'd brought down to join them. But unlike the adaptable Ava, he was quite ferocious and determined to escape. A small pudgy man in his mid-thirties, he was the only child of Andre Chovik, a powerful man known other as Zelus, who was one of the Elders of Troit.

Andrew Chovik was nothing more than a spoiled brat with a clever mind, and if it weren't for the endless maze of tunnels, it would have been a slight challenge to keep him here. Mr. Black wasn't worried. He had people constantly watching his guests, so even if they managed to find their way out of his underground fortress, they'd never make it.

"Perhaps he should spend some time and reflect on his wrongdoings," Mr. Black said mildly. He knew that the west storage rooms all lay empty - they had yet to be stocked with supplies. They were nothing but cold, dark stone rooms at this point.

"Of course," Alainna immediately caught on to his line of thinking. "I'll let the others know to leave him alone. Perhaps a long nap will calm him down."

Mr. Black nodded in approval. "Anything else?"

"Um. Well, the things you brought back yesterday... we put them in south storage. We covered them up, of course," She was quick to add when he frowned ever so slightly. "They'll stay dry and protected. I'll get Louie to bring the pictures to you once he's got them developed."

"Good." It was only one word, but she beamed like she'd been given a pile of gold. Of course, her happiness disappeared when he spoke again. "Anything else?"

.Annoyed, she jutted out her chin and glared at him. "No! All I've been doing is looking after all the weird things you keep bringing back. What else am I supposed to report on? Why do you even bring them here, anyway? Who are they?"

His lips curved in response. Without answering her, he turned to masked man standing beside her. "Seb?"

The bandaged man dipped his head in a noble sort of acquiescence. "I have wandered the top," he said, in a low sing-song sort of whisper. "No eyes in the backdrop, no strangers that spawn -- . perhaps it is dawn?"

Mr. Black sighed softly. He realized he was gently rubbing at an old aching scar on his chest, and abruptly lowered his hand. "Not quite, Seb. But soon, I think."

Alainna pursed her lips, tilting her head as she tried to read between the lines. It wasn't her strongest point, but at least she was trying.

Mr. Black waved lazily at them. "Go. Keep your eyes open, both of you. It won't be long now."

"For what?" Alainna immediately questioned. Seb had already slipped away at this point, leaving her alone to stand stubbornly before Mr. Black's desk. "You haven't told us anything."

Slowly, Mr. Black's lips curved, baring his teeth in something that was not quite a smile. Something dark and menacing seemed to raise its head behind him, shrouding him within a terrifying aura.

The blood left her face as an inexplicable terror gripped her heart. Alianna snapped her mouth shut, and took an unconscious step back. Before she knew it, she had backed away even further, fleeing from the frightening monster that lurked within that dark corner.

~*RW*~

Jett woke up on a table.

It wasn't a very big one; he could feel both his legs and one arm hang over its edge. They felt numb and uncomfortable, a sign that he'd been laying here for quite some time.

He blinked a couple of times to clear the cobwebs out of his vision before taking in the gray canvas stretched overhead. He stared at it for a long time in a daze, his sluggish mind gradually processing what he saw.

A tent? They were the only buildings he knew of that were made out of canvas.

Air suddenly flowed, brushing against the skin of his left hand, the left side of his face, and across his bare chest. It raised goosebumps in its wake, causing him to shiver. Someone had clearly removed the entire top half his suit and now he really felt the loss of its insulated warmth.

Jett tried to shift his weight. Unfortunately for him, every muscle had the strength and usefulness of a wet noodle. All his efforts got him was a wave of dizzy exhaustion. There was nothing he could do but lay helplessly and stare at the roof above.

Where ... ?

A dark shadow fell over him, dimming the entire environment. Since it was pretty dark to start with, Jett didn't really notice the change in light. What he did notice, however, was that the temperature suddenly plummeted. A chill seemed to stab deep into his bones.

He bit back a gasp, shivering fiercely. If his arms were working, he'd be wrapping them tightly around himself to try and gather some warmth.

Unwillingly, Jett turned his head to the side, seeking out the source of this frightening coldness. His curiousness was rewarded with the sight of a dark figure towering over him. It stared down at him through the eyeholes of a silver mask.

This mask - Jett saw it, recognized it - but before he could truly process the horror of it, his gaze was captured by that horrendous black stare. He knew that stare well, having been the subject of it before. Yet never, ever had he seen such rage burning within.

It stole his breath away, froze the blood in his veins, paralyzed every thought and pinned him to the table like he's been physically tied to it. He was nothing more than a piece of meat staring up into the jaws of a ravenous beast. Terror flowed over him in waves, each one surging with panic and horror.

That icy nightmarish stare pinned him like a bug, leaving him entirely exposed and at the owner's mercy. After an eternity, the shadow finally spoke in a utterly cold, flat tone.

"Who did this to you?"

There was no hint of emotion or intention, and that was worse than if the shadow had merely shouted angrily like a normal person. Jett shuddered, too frightened by the mere sound of it to actually understand the words themselves.

After a moment of no response, the shadow spoke once more. This time, there was an underlying growl, a hint of intent, of promise. "Who ... did this to you?"

Jett jerked involuntarily, his already pale face whitening to the point it was nearly colorless. This time, he heard the words, but his terrified mind couldn't process the question. One thing was absolutely clear - this shadow wanted - demanded - an answer from him. He had to speak, or this nightmare would get unimaginably worse.

So he struggled to unclench his jaw, which had locked tight without his awareness. Under the watch of the shadow, he managed to open his mouth. His intention was to plead for this shadow to go away, to leave him alone, but what came out was something entirely different.

"What's ... what's going on?"

The shadow seemed to stiffen. It became a statue of unnatural stillness and inhuman cold. Then the mask shifted slightly, its black stare flicking to one side. "Anri."

A second shadow almost instantly appeared next to the first. This one was slender and poised, with gentle features and warm brown eyes. Jett stared at it, completely stunned. This was no shadow - it was a man! He had elegantly defined features, lending him a noble air, and compared to the evil shadow beside him, he exuded warmth and gentleness.

Instantly, he became the focus of Jett's attention. Aware of this, the man's lips curved into a gentle, attractive smile. He then calmly addressed the shadow. "My lord, he's only just awakened. Considering his condition, it's no surprise he's disoriented. If I may?"

The rage coming from the shadow seemed to rise like a volcano about to erupt. Jett shuddered; even without looking, he could practically feel it. Terrified, he kept his eyes focused on the smiling man, not even daring to look at the shadow.

The man must have received whatever permission he was looking for, as he proceeded to introduce himself. "I am Anri, your father's chief medical officer." If he noticed Jett's sharp flinch at the 'your father's' part, he didn't show it. "What do you remember?"

Jett took a shaky breath. The question prompted his mind to whirl, and expression grew distant as bits and pieces began to trickle down unbidden. What did he remember?

He remembered Moxi, remembered breaking into the Troit headquarters. He remembered feeling horribly sick, wandering the halls, taking out the patrolling guards, and then -- then everything got fuzzy.

There were incomplete flashes, vague details floating about in a soup of fog. He reached out for a couple.

A guard sat at a small table, playing guards. He had a very handsome face, a charming smile - both of which were somehow annoying. A woman sat across from him. She was a giant of a woman, plain and built like a mountain. Her eyes shone bright in his memory; stunning blue and ferocious as she --

Jett mentally recoiled, feeling like he'd just received a slap to the face. Something was wrong about this memory. Something about this woman filled him with dread, yet he couldn't place what. Couldn't remember. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember.

So fled, searching for the next piece of information. There was Stewart - a dark face staring at him through a cell window. After that, he remembered painful, brilliant light, blinding him before dozens of Troit soldiers.

Caught. Trapped. Despair. Darkness.

A choked cry dragged him out of memory lane, and he found himself looking up into Anri's kind gaze. It had a near instant soothing effect on him. He relaxed a little, and released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"What do you remember?" Anri asked again. The warmth in his voice and his gentle expression seemed hypnotic. Jett couldn't look away. He wasn't sure that he wanted to. After the terrifying experience with the shadow, the relief and sense of security that Anri brought was nearly overwhelming.

He didn't even realize that his body was slowly losing the tension it held, and that his panicked breathing had started to settle into a more normal pattern.

"I . . ." Jett found himself talking, his throat incredibly dry and rough, to the point he could only speak in a raspy whisper. He swallowed, wincing. "I don't remember a lot. Went to free a prisoner that Troit was holding. It didn't work out so great. I was sick."

"Mm," Anri made negative sound. "You were poisoned."

A deep growl came from off the side. Every hair on Jett's body stood on end. He started to turn his head towards the sound, but Anri reached out and laid a hand against the side of Jett's face. It felt warm against his clammy cheek, and its presence was enough distraction that he forgot about the source of the growl.

"You were poisoned," Anri repeated gently. "It nearly killed you. In fact, you had stopped breathing."

"What?" Jett's eyes grew round. He'd ... stopped breathing?

"Fortunately, my lord was able to make it time," Anri said. "He was able to administer emergency first aid and keep you alive long enough for me to reach you." With that, Anri glanced to the side.

Unconsciously, Jett followed his gaze, and this time, Anri allowed him to look. Together, they saw the dark shadow standing nearby.

With dawning horror, Jett's mind finally processed what exactly he was looking at. Ra'Skevvor himself stood before them, cold and terrible and simmering with a dreadful rage. That silver mask faced Jett, and death itself glared out at him.

This . . . this was what rescued him from the Troit headquarters? This was what saved his life? By personally giving him - ?

Jett felt faint, nauseated. Even as he tried to picture Ra'Skevvor himself giving first aid, his mind shuddered and blew out its circuits, then flopped over like a dead fish, a twitching gray heap of slimy meat. The horror of it was too much to bear.

No way. Oh please no.

He blinked a couple of times in disbelief. Then violently jerked in fright, an anguished sound bursting free from his throat. That mask was no longer a safe distance away. It now hung right above his own face. Deep, endless pits of hell bored straight into his own.

"Who did this to you?"

Jett tried to shrink away. Unfortunately, there was nowhere for him to go. The table's hard, unyielding surface lay beneath him. In front of him, that frightening mask came even closer, silently bearing down on him with enormous pressure.

He trembled violently, his face having reverted to a colorless hue. Never in his life had he been so terrified by something. Those bottomless black pits wanted to burn him a live, to swallow him whole, to devour and destroy and rage until there was nothing left.

"I - I don't -" Jett tried to stammer, but he was shaking too badly to even speak properly.

"Who?" This time, Ra'Skevvor didn't speak. He growled. The horrendous sound chilled Jett's blood. It was a miracle that he didn't pee himself.

His mind was so badly scrambled at the moment, he couldn't answer Ra'Skevvor's question. All he understood was that Ra wanted a name. A person. And that he wouldn't lay off until he got what he wanted.

Jett wasn't willingly to give up anyone to this nightmare, but he couldn't bear this pressure! It was too much! He just wanted it to stop. So he clenched his fists tight, and blurted out the only name he could think of that he dared.

"G-Gant!"

Instantly, Ra'Skevvor withdrew, leaving Jett a panting, sweating mess. His dark hair was plastered to a face whiter than a ghost, and his chest heaved with every breath. Horror and relief flooded him in equal parts.

While Jett was trying not to sob like a baby, Ra'Skevvor strode out of view. His voice coldly ordered someone to "Find him!" followed by a brief flash of daylight as he left the tent. The dark, oppressive cold seemed to disappear with him. The relief at Ra'Skevvor's departure was so great, Jett couldn't help but let out a shaky whimper.

A warm hand was laid against his forehead. Jett looked up through watering eyes to see Anri's gentle smile. "Perhaps you should rest now. You will need your strength for later."

Later? The medic's last words sound ominous, and despite being a nervous wreck of a mess, Jett felt alarmed.

He immediately clutched the sides of the table and tried to sit up. The sudden movement jostled Anri's hand away. With some struggling, Jett managed to prop himself up on his elbows. The effort took a lot out of him. He shook like a leaf, only managing to stay put through sheer stubbornness.

"Where is this?" He asked weakly. Anri had moved back, out of his view, so Jett looked around. He saw that he was definitely in a tent. Besides the table he lay on, there were a few chairs and supply packs set around the sides. He didn't get to see much more than that.

Anri's arm curled around his bare shoulders, and the next instant brought a sharp pinch in his upper arm.

"What-?!" Jett flinched away from the pain, but Anri's arm held him fast. He looked over to see Anri injecting the contents of a syringe into him. Growing even more alarmed, Jett tried to pull away.

"Hush," the medic soothed. "It's merely some nutrients to help your body recover."

As calming as Anri's words were, Jett felt a deep unease. He could only watch as Anri withdrew the syringe and set it aside. With the same hand, he picked up a small wad of gauze and dabbed it carefully at the tiny bead of blood that oozed from the injection site. The whole time, he supported Jett with his other arm.

"Why?" Jett was utterly confused. He had so many questions. Why was this man helping him? Why did Ra'Skevvor save him? What were they going to do with him? What was going on? What was Ra'Skevvor planning to do?

A wave of sleepiness hit him. Jett sagged in Anri's hold as his remaining strength seemed to leave him. His eyes fluttered, his breath coming out in a long, soft exhale as his body relaxed of its own accord. All his questions seemed to dim in importance.

Anri lowered him back onto the table. Then he gently patted Jett's cheek, lips curving in a peculiar smile. Jett gazed up through hazy, unfocused eyes.

"Don't worry," Anri murmured. "My lord will be sure to answer everything to your satisfaction. Until then, sleep." He watched until Jett's eyes slid closed. It only took a few moments before the young flyer was fully unconscious.

Anri's expression grew serious, pensive even, as he regarded the small flyer. Whatever his thoughts were, no one would know.