Raith and Yvan waited in the hallway, both ignoring the chairs that had been set aside for them to use. Although the Troit soldiers left them alone, that didn't stop the more curious from accidentally walking past in order to sneak peeks.

Perhaps another flyer might have ordered them leave, or to stop their silliness, but Raith just closed his eyes in thought and ignored them. He was occupied by the conundrum at hand.

The Kairg bodies in the yard. Apparently it was the Kairg themselves who swooped in at the last minute to save the little white flyer. And not just any Kairg, either.

According to the reports, there was one flyer who wore the same mottled grays and greens as the rest, but moved in an entirely inhuman way. His speed rivaled, perhaps even exceeded, that of Raven's, appearing to nearly teleport across the yard as he bulldozed his way to Jett's side. Nothing could touch him. If he had so wished, he could easily have cleared the entire yard of Troit in a single-handed slaughter.

But he didn't. Instead, he let his men fight and die for him, while he alone focused on the white flyer. This Kairg flyer - there was only one in existence who could move so fast that he appeared to be teleporting. That was Ra'Skevvor himself, and he came to personally save Jett.

That alone was enough to confirm a few of Raith's suspicions, but instead of setting him at ease, it made him even more unsettled.

Ra'Skevvor was a cold, twisted man, one who acted at his leisure. His actions had always been somewhat predictable, since his goal and intentions were known. But now that Jett was in the picture, his movements had changed. It was disturbing.

But -- Raith's lips quirked -- perhaps now, if they did things right, Ra'Skevvor's actions could become even easier to predict.

The nearby door opened and Syk stepped out. He looked entirely calm and relaxed, as if he'd just awakened from a refreshing nap. Just before the door swung shut, Raith opened his eyes and glanced inside.

A man with dark skin and pale eyes sat slumped in the only chair in the room. He was sweating, trembling, his gaze unfocused and wide. The door shut, cutting off the view.

Raith turned away from the door, ignoring the little twist of unease he felt at the sight. "Well?"

"Hm, he was quite the helpful one," Syk murmured. He pulled a thin square of cloth from one of his compact utility pouches, and meticulously wiped his hands. He'd removed his gloves for the interrogation, something that Raith found odd, but he didn't mention it.

"Did he know where the rebels were?" Raith asked.

"No," Syk finished cleaning his hands. He returned the cloth to its pouch, then carefully pulled on the pale yellow gloves. They fit his slender hands snugly like a second skin, the material designed to be both antimicrobial and unobtrusive to ones movements. "He was actually on his way to meet someone from the rebel's camp when our men picked him up the first time. A girl named Moxie was his contact."

Yvan pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against, a faint scowl on his face. "That doesn't help us then."

"On the contrary," Syk smiled. "Mr. Stewart had a lot so share. I am very glad that our soldiers were able to find him again."

"What'd he say?" There was hint of impatience in Yvan's tone. Raith didn't blame him - to a man of action like Yvan, he must have felt that they were waiting around and wasting time with interviews and interrogations. But in Raith' eyes, the more information they had, the less time it would take to capture their prey.

Syk knew this as well as he did. In fact, he even relished it, willingly taking point in all the interrogations. Raith was just has happy to let him, since he preferred watching and listening, absorbing everything he could take in.

Chuckling, Syk allowed his amusement to show. Apparently, he was in quite the good mood. "Quite a lot of things, my dear Yvan. Ah, where to start?"

Yvan looked annoyed, but before he could even speak, Raith smoothly cut in. "What does he know about the boy?"

"Not too much, but enough," was Syk's cryptic reply."He'd heard about a white flyer like everyone else, but hadn't expected the young man to personally rescue him. It seems that that our little flyer was quite ill at the time, as well."

"Ill?" Raith repeated, furrowing his brow. It would coincide with some of the reports he'd gotten. Jett had vomited in front of a couple of the soldiers, as well as downright collapsing the moment he'd stepped out of the building with Stewart in tow. Although, the fainting could have been said to be a overly strong reaction to the realization he'd been caught, but it would make more sense knowing the kid had been ill. After all, Jett wasn't the type to faint in fright.

"Very much so. From Stewart's descriptions, our young Jett was also acting out of character. He was cold and distant in manner and interactions. Also - and I find this rather interesting - he admitted to Stewart, on his own, that he was the one who ruthlessly beat down that woman and left her to bleed to death." Syk smiled, a glint in his eyes that would make most people shiver upon seeing it.

Raith didn't shiver. His frown merely deepened. "So the kid did kill the woman?"

"Seems like."

"You think the two are related? His illness and change of character?" It was the only thing that made sense, but Raith never did like jumping to conclusions. Now, he was merely fishing for Syk's opinion.

Syk just gave him an eerie smile. "Without examining him, it's hard to tell."

"All right." Raith set that train of thought aside. "What about these rebels, then? Anything we can use there?"

"Stewart's been feeding them illegal blueprints for months," Syk said. "His contact, as I previously mentioned, is a young woman named Moxie. The method of contact is a simplistic one - a message left in one of three drop boxes around this city. It may be worth attempting if we desire to follow this lead."

"You mean if we want to find the rebels," Yvan finally jumped into the conversation. He walked up to them, hands hooked into the utility belt at his waist. "You think they'll know where the kid is?"

"He obviously has ties to them," Raith said, feeling slightly irritated. With Yvan, it was like he had to point out the obvious. Syk, at least, was capable of understanding and coming to his own conclusions. Conversations with him were far more efficient.

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Raith took a moment to piece together his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at the other two. "All right. We have two leads we need to pursue. First, this Moxie. Second, the Kairg. The Kairg would be the more direct route, but it will be more difficult to track. I suggest that we split up."

Yvan immediately scowled. "You want to go after Ra'Skevvor himself? What, you think he's going to leave a nice trail of breadcrumbs for you to follow? That guy's near impossible to pin down, in case you haven't noticed."

"Even the greatest will sometimes slip," Raith said mildly. He met Syk's gaze calmly. "You and Yvan can find the girl. I'll follow the trail as far as I can. See if I can pick anything up. We can meet back here in ... three days, if that is enough?"

With a graceful incline of the head, Syk agreed. "Plenty. Come, my dear Yvan. Let's put those talents of yours to use." With a gesture at the Mountain flyer, Syk immediately strode down the hall.

Distaste showed on Yvan's face, but he said nothing and followed after the medic. Though not before he cast Raith a doubting glance. It was as if he expected Raith to fail miserably.

It didn't surprise Raith. Generally speaking, scouting out the Kairg - especially to those close to Ra'Skevvor himself - was a extremely risky task. A lot of Scouts had been lost that way.

However, it wouldn't be the first time he'd done such a thing. Among the scouts, there were very few who dared to do what he did. And the few that dared? Well, he was the only one who remained among the living. With no one around to see it, he allowed his lips to finally curve upwards in a proud little smile.

~*RW*~

With dawn casting the first rays of light, Suil's tan form was little more than a shadow gliding several hundred feet above the ground. He'd been flying hard for the past few days, rushing from outpost to outpost along the Front, carrying reports and news to and from each Field Commander.

The Council felt that with the Kairg's frightening advances in technology, it was a reasonable assumption that they'd been able to tap into their encrypted communication lines. So for the more sensitive things, flyers were drafted to relay them personally.

Suil gritted his teeth, silently wishing for entirety of the Kairg to disappear into a bottomless hole. For all he cared, Troit could go with them. The past month had been a never ending blur of utter exhaustion, pain, and misery.

When he first graduated from silly trainee to actual flyer, he'd felt more or less neutral about the whole thing. Some of the others had been quite excited with the novelty of it all, though that had been somewhat dampened by Jett's shocking betrayal. The disillusion had been knocked from them all pretty fast.

After that event, all the new flyers had been watched like a hawk. As if any of them had the courage to pull off what Jett did. Suil scoffed bitterly at the thought. Many times he wondered what would have happened if he'd taken to the skies at Jett's heels. Would he have managed to evade Troit's hunters as long? Would he even be able to stand on his own in a world hostile to flyers?

He mulled over that thought for a while, something that he'd pondered several times but never quite able to come up with an answer. Up ahead, the first pale shadows of one of the Frontline camps came into view. This was one of the larger outposts - known as the 19th division - and one that he'd visited more often than the rest.

As he approached, he cut off his main boosters and allowed gravity and momentum to gently coast him downwards. Suil sighed, smothering the grim thoughts in his mind. No matter what, there was nothing left for him to do but be a loyal Troit flyer.

His boots hit the ground harshly, jarring his ankles and knees, and he ran a few steps to regain his balance. Each bone and muscle ached in complaint, causing Suil to grimace. He really hoped he could get a day's rest here before being sent out once more.

A senior Mountain flyer approached him. His bare face looked weary, yet there was a hardness behind his eyes. "Identify yourself, flyer."

Even though he'd already radioed in his approach to alert the watch of his arrival, Suil complied. He disengaged his helmet. The warm wind felt amazingly cool and refreshing against his hot, sweat skin. "Scout Twenty-Eight T, Suil. I've come from the West."

The Mountain Flyer eyed him, head to toe. "You carry news?"

"Yes."

"Come then. I'll take you to Command."

Suil wordlessly followed as the Mountain flyer headed back into the collection of dirt-colored tents. The buildings did a decent job of camouflaging themselves amongst the landscape, but they did nothing to stop the dust and dirt from invading. It was everywhere he looked. Soldiers were shaking it out of their hair, brushing it off their cots, scraping it off their rations.

It was a bitter place to be. And it was exactly the same at every outpost across the Front.

Suil ended up in a small tent located in the middle of the camp. On the outside, it appeared like every other godforsaken tent. Inside, however, was a different story. It was cleaner than the others, and had a few luxuries that others wouldn't even dare dream of. There were things like a private sleeping area, cans of preserved, real food, and a solar-operated fan blowing cool air across the tent.

The Mountain Flyer shoved Suil inside, called out "Messenger just came in," then backed away so fast that Suil almost wondered if he were frightened. Suil sighed internally. He wiped the beading sweat from his brow with a dust-covered arm before turning his intention to the tent's sole occupant.

The Field Commander of this outpost was currently poring over maps sprawled on a table, his back facing the entrance. Suil stared at that back, a feeling of unease starting to grow. It was a narrower, more wiry back than he remembered. Not only that, the back armor plating was more.... elaborate than most, and the dull tans had been replaced by an almost gold color.

This was not the flyer he remembered being in Command.

Frowning, Suil remained silent. He studied the flyer suit of the other, taking in the intricate etchings around the edges of each armor piece. Flyers who had such custom designs on their armor were undoubtedly of high ranking. And this particular guy... seemed familiar. Suil resisted the urge to groan.

It was several long minutes before the flyer finally straightened from the maps. He turned, golden eyes immediately zeroing in on Suil's dust-covered from. A pale blond brow formed an arrogant arch, while smug amusement lingered around his lips.

"My apologies for the wait," the golden flyer said without a shred of sincerity. "These maps are quite captivating."

Suil's eye twitched, but he managed to keep the annoyance from his face. He spoke, voice a little raspy. "Ryuto of the Twelve. I was not aware you held Command here."

Ryuto's catlike eyes flashed, but a charming smile warmed his handsome features. "A clever boy, aren't you? I hear you've gathered some interesting intel during your messenger routes. Please, do tell." He casually leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms.

Chills tickled Suil's spine. Intuition warned him that he was standing at a knife's edge. He warily kept his eyes on the Twelve flyer. Why is he here? What's going on?

"It wasn't much," he said calmly. He took a moment, trying to wet his dry mouth. It felt as dry and dusty as the ground. Ryuto waited, and Suil took a small measure of petty satisfaction at the fact that he'd made the Twelve do so. It was something he could see Jett doing, as well.

He didn't dare push it though, and quickly began his report.

It seemed the Kairg had slowed down their movements. Fearsome war machines still occasionally marched out, but it was still at a much slower pace and they were easily contained by patrols. There were no reported Kairg sightings apart from the machines; it was like they had all withdrawn to their own hidden bases.

While the reprieve was a much needed breather, it was still unsettling. Even Suil knew that the silence was not a good sign - it only meant that the Kairg were planning something even worse.

Ryuto listened to the series of reports Suil had gathered from the various outposts he had visited. The Twelve seemed almost bored, like playing Command was beneath him, but the glimmering interest in his gaze betrayed him.

"So it all fits together," Ryuto murmured cryptically once Suil had finished. Whatever he meant by that, Suil had no idea. The Twelve looked down at Suil, an arrogant cast to his expression.

"You've done well," he said, like he was praising a dog. "You may take two days to rest up. I hear Alpha Unit is back - perhaps you might like to play with your little friend?" The flyer chuckled mockingly. "You should make use of what time you do have, little Scout, for I shall soon have a new report for you to carry."

Suil gazed at the Twelve, jaw set tight. This arrogant son of a -

"Is that all?" he asked calmly.

Ryuto tapped a finger idly against one of his arms. "Why, is there more you wish to tell me?"

There were many things Suil wanted to tell him, but he wouldn't dare. Instead, he turned sharply, purposefully neglecting to offer a respectful salute. "Then I'm going."

He left the tent, trembling slightly, yet oddly elated at his own silly actions. Jett... you're rubbing off on me.

Sleep was the thing he needed most right now. But Ryuto had said Alpha Unit was back, and that meant he had a rare chance to see the only person he could truly call a friend in this place.

He hated that Ryuto knew him so well, hated the fact that the flyer could make him dance to his tune, and even more - he hated that he had no choice but to obey. Such was Troit.

Without realizing it, his hands had curled into rebellious fists as he walked towards the tent that housed Alpha Unit. It sat at the corner of the entire camp, somewhat isolated from the rest. It wasn't done intentionally, but people just generally avoided the tent.

Alpha Unit was ... different. As was any Alpha group. Comprised of both soldiers and flyers, it was lovingly dubbed the 'suicide squad'. As Ryuto had explained, Alpha Units were the first to defend. Or the first attack, depending on the situation. No matter what, they were always the first to die.

Those who survived the Unit became some of the toughest, most grizzled of men. To be honest though, not many survived for long. That was why most people avoided them. What was the point of getting to know a dead man?

Suil frowned. He reached out and pushed the tent's entrance flap aside. Stepping inside the darkened interior, he took a moment to look around. There were only four people inside. Two were passed out on the cots, and the other two were playing a card game. Drinks sat before them; Suil could smell it even from this distance that it was alcohol.

His frown deepened, and he walked over to two people playing cards. One was a burly mountain flyer. The other a dangerously thin soldier with a wicked burn scar distorting half his face.

The scarred soldier glanced up, saw Suil, and gave a crooked grin. "Iern, your girlfriend's come to see you."

Iern didn't even look up. He just gestured at the other while staring at the cards in his hand. "Then get your arse out of the way, Freak."

"Whatever you say, boss." The tone was entirely mocking, yet the scarred soldier immediately pushed his chair back and rose. He extravagantly offered the chair to Suil like a gentleman, raising his single remaining eyebrow up nearly to his hairline. "My lady, if you please."

Completely unfazed, Suil sat. "Thanks, Freak."

"Anytime, my lady." Freak grinned lasciviously. "Hey boss, can I bang her when you're done?"

"Shut up and get out of here," Iern growled, finally throwing a cold glare at the scarred soldier. There wasn't any real heat behind it though, because Freak was just playing around. Suil was long used to the soldier's twisted sense of humor.

After Freak had wandered off to the other side of the tent, Iern gestured at the tin cup that now sat before Suil. It was still half-full of bitter alcohol. "Help yourself."

Suil looked down, eyeing the cup. Normally he'd decline. Even when he was on off-duty, he abstained from anything that would dull his senses. Also, alcohol was generally hard to get a hold of, even for flyers. For Alpha, though - they got as much as they wanted, since it was one of the few ways to keep the suicide squad happy with their role in life.

Wordlessly, Suil grabbed the cup and downed it in one gulp. It burned all the way down and made his eyes water. When he set it down, he noticed that Iern was watching him. "What?"

Iern gave a crooked smile. "Rough day?"

"No worse than yours, I'd imagine. Give me another."

Iern gave him a probing look, but did as he was bid. Instead of chugging it down, Suil took a sip. He sighed, then quietly observed his friend.

It hadn't been very long since Iern had been running with Alpha, but it seemed like a lifetime. Iern had changed to the point he was nearly unrecognizable. Instead of the foolish boy sat a rough, jaded man who'd seen more death than most of the others put together. Most people crumpled under such a weight. But Iern - oddly enough, he seemed to thrive.

But we all have changed, Suil bitterly thought. In order to survive, we've had no choice. Iern into a battle-worn vet, himself into a bitter Scout, and Jett - just how had Jett changed? He thought of Jett's naive stubbornness, his insane courage, and hoped that Jett hadn't changed. That he would never change.

"What are you thinking?" Iern's gruff voice broke into his thoughts.

"Things." Suil shrugged. He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. Exhaustion pulled his eyelids downwards, but he refused to fold. "They're watching us, you know. They always are."

"So?" Iern took a healthy swig from his cup. Despite the redness of his cheeks, he seemed completely untouched by the alcohol. "Let 'em. What are they gonna do? Throw me on the death squad? Oh wait, they already did."

Despite himself, Suil chuckled.

Iern smiled. "What news can you tell me?"

Suil blinked slowly, feeling a hint of warmth spread from within. It was the alcohol, probably. He rubbed at his tired eyes. "You know I can't say much, Iern. But ... the Kairg have pulled back. I'm sure you know that already."

"Hmm, yeah. I figured something was going on, since they pulled us all back."

Lifting his head, Suil glanced around the tent. Only four. There may be some in the medic tent, but still... this was the half the amount he remembered seeing last time. He lowered his gaze. "You getting new members?"

"Some, yeah. Why, you wanna join?" Iern's tone was light, but they both knew it would never happen. Troit would never let them group together in the same Unit.

"Maybe," Suil murmured. Then he took another sip. Both of them sat in a comfortable silence. Suil's eyes drooped, and he was practically dozing when Iern suddenly leaned in.

"Hey," the burly flyer whispered. "Wanna hear something interesting?"

Suil jerked, nearly knocking the jug of booze off the table. "Huh?" He blinked, gathered his wits, and leaned in, more awake. "What?"

Iern smiled mischievously, appearing more like the person he'd been in the past. "I heard two of the Elder's relatives have disappeared. Vanished off the face of the earth."

Shocked, Suil gawked like an idiot. "You - where'd you hear that?"

"Rumors," Iern said softly. "I don't know if it's true, but I also heard they've redirected some of the Scouts to search for them. I thought you might have heard something."

Suil hadn't. Then again, he'd been kept pretty busy lately. He leaned back in his chair, tired mind starting to whir. "That's... interesting. Rumors or not."

"I knew you'd think so." Iern held a proud little smile. Clearly he was proud of knowing something Suil didn't. Suil decided not to smack him. This time.

"Something's going to happen," Suil murmured, more to himself than anyone else. The Kairg pulling back. These rumors. Ryuto in Command. He could almost feel the pressure building. Like a bomb about to blow.

All that was missing was the spark.