Gray swooped down like a great owl, pale wings flaring and boots swinging down as he came in for a heavy landing. His boots kicked up a great cloud of dust upon the initial touchdown, which was fed by the several running steps he took to burn off the forward momentum. By the time he came to full stop, his wings had retreated and the last few puffs of dust were settling behind him.

He moved with grim purpose towards the small camp that sat nearby. It wasn't hard to find, once he'd been given the coordinates. Although jammers and cloaking tech hid it from all technological reach, it was visually easy to spot once he was in the right area.

Why they found it necessary to plunk it so far behind their own lines and far away from any of the other Troit stations, Gray had no idea. He might have grumbled over it if he hadn't been so unsettled. Tension locked his shoulders, stiffened the lines of his back and clenched his jaw tight to the point of being uncomfortable.

When the Council had sent a messenger to tell him to drop everything he was doing, tell no one, and arrive at secret coordinates in the middle of nowhere, it was pretty hard to not make a few assumptions. Or conclusions.

Something big was about to go down. And they wanted him to be a part of it.

He walked towards camp undisturbed. Other than the tent, which was surrounded by equipment and transport vehicles, he was the only one out there. It felt kind of eerie, though Gray paid little care to that fact. His feet crunched against the dry ground, loud enough to announce his presence to anyone inside the tent.

Yet no one called out. No one even pushed aside the flap that made up the entrance. Gray was completely ignored, and for a second, he wondered if he was alone out here. Maybe Command was just playing a stupid joke. He scowled darkly, then reached out and shoved the flap aside.

He stepped inside and then immediately stopped. The flap fell into place behind him, close enough that it bumped against the faintly protruding boosters on the back of his armor. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his expression carefully neutral as he recognized the people before him.

They gathered around a table, most with their backs to him, but the few facing the tent's entrance glanced up at his arrival.

There was Raith, of course. The deceptively mild Scout who seemed to know far more than he should. To Gray's surprise, the Scout looked like he'd been in one heck of a fight. One of Raith's arms rested in a sling, the ends of a cast peeking past the material. Despite the obvious injury, the Scout still wore his flyer suit, although a few pieces of his armor had been removed to accommodate the injury.

Eyebrows lifting slightly, Gray looked past Raith to the two Scouts who stood behind him. Their faces were unfamiliar. Even as he eyed them curiously, they stared right back at him with careful regard. Gray looked away, not particularly interested in unknowns. It was the others in the tent that caught his attention.

Syk, he thought, with no small amount of dislike. The tall medic stood by Raith, wearing a small knowing smile. At least he looked like he'd been in some kind of fight as well, judging by the ugly bruising spreading across a puffy nose. Well well, he looks much improved with a busted face.

"Nice of you to join us, Gray," Syk said pleasantly. His pale eyes gleamed. Gray got the sense that Syk was insulting him somehow, but he couldn't figure out where the insult was. His scowl deepened.

He walked to the table, bumping shoulders with the flyer on his left as he stepped up between two of them. Idly, he noted that the flyer on his left was a Smoke flyer, and the one on the right was a Mountain. He didn't much care who they were, because the flat tablet sitting on the table drew his gaze like a fly to a carcass.

A video, grainy and choppy, played on the small screen. It showed a city in chaos, people fleeing, cars jammed on a street, vehicles slamming into each other as they tried to maneuver past the others. People swarmed down the sidewalks, running, flailing, mouths open in silent screams. One car careened onto the sidewalk, barely missing pedestrians as they flung themselves out of its path.

Gray frowned, not sure what he was even looking at. "What's this?"

"Our target," came a familiar voice to his left.

Gray jerked his head up, eyes narrowing as he met the familiar gaze of the flyer to his left. "Lante." He couldn't keep the note of surprise out of his voice.

The Smoke flyer offered a brief smile, though it felt distant, cold. More of a formality than anything else. "Hello Gray."

Gray grunted in response, then turned away from Lante. He took a proper look at the other two flyers that stood to his right alongside the table. Though he wasn't as familiar with them as he was with Lante, he still recognized them. It was hard not to recognize two of the Twelve, after all.

Driskal was a large man, one who was almost as wide as he was tall, and it was all solid muscle. He fit the Mountain flyer stereotype better than most. In fact, if Troit ever put out recruiting posters for each branch of flyers, Gray was sure Driskal would the poster boy for the Mountains.

The big flyer glanced down at Gray, grunted, then returned his attention to the tablet. That was about as far as his greeting went.

The other flyer actually took the time to give Gray a small nod in greeting. Maji Ra was probably the smallest flyer out of the twelve, with dark eyes and hair and a definite Asian cast to his features. He wore the blues of the River flyer well, but he wasn't one to fight evasively like most of the others of the River branch. Gray had seen him fight once, and he hadn't forgotten the sight since.

Raith cleared his throat. "Now that everyone's here, let's get started."

Everyone? Gray glanced around the space. There were four of the Twelve, himself as the only remaining Talon, and a Scout who seemed to hold the trust of the Council themselves. A Scout who apparently held command of this little operation, whatever it was.

Questions rose, but Gray did not voice them. He merely frowned. Then wondered what the heck kind of operation would require the firepower of four Twelves and one Talon. And Raith was in charge? He wasn't one of the Twelve. He was just a Scout. Just what is this guy planning?

"Some of you are already aware of why we're here," Raith said, and here he glanced at Lante. Syk just looked on with a hint of a smile, a smug little twist of the lips that made Gray want to punch him.

"To put it simply, our goal is put an end to Ra'Skevvor himself." The Scout looked at them all in turn, his expression deadly serious.

Gray couldn't hold back a snort. "That's all?" Troit had been trying to kill off Ra'Skevvor for years. And now Raith thought they could do it with just a handful of flyers? Yeah, sure. This is going to be good.

His comment was greeted with cool silence. Raith gave him an unreadable look, then reached forward and tapped the screen on the tablet. "We know Ra'Skevvor's weakness. We capture it, and we can force a confrontation during which we can finally put an end to him."

"A confrontation?" Gray repeated, brows rising. That sounded like all kinds of a bad idea. Ra'Skevvor was an absolute demon on the battlefield. Even if Raven were still around to help, they had an incredibly poor chance of surviving an encounter.

Raith smiled indulgently. "Yes, Gray. Syk and myself, as well as Yvan, nearly succeeded several days ago. Our plan was solid, but our data was wrong. This time, however, we will not fail."

Gray rubbed his jaw, trying to process what he'd just heard. Three flyers against Ra'Skevvor? And they survived? Wait a minute. He looked around the tent, brow furrowing. "Yvan -?"

"Did not make it," Syk said pleasantly. "Both Raith and myself carry injuries, so I'm afraid we will not be participating in any of the gruntwork. However, you four should be more than enough, considering you're ranked among Troit's finest combatants."

Gray very much doubted that. He moved both hands behind his back, and quietly pinched himself. Yup, that hurt. Okay, so I'm not dreaming. Fine. Then that means Raith's completely lost it, and so have we for even being here to listen to his lunacy.

He considered leaving the tent and taking off. These guys could go and get commit suicide via Ra'Skevvor by themselves. However, he was here on Command's orders. Defying those orders was not an option. He sighed.

"This weakness," Maji Ra murmured. His voice was soft, almost gentle and carried the faintest of accents. "What is it?"

Syk continued to smile. Raith tapped on the screen a few times, before opening up a picture. It filled the whole screen, and as Gray looked at it, his breath seized in his throat. He barely suppressed a curse.

Jett's face stared out at them, his black eyes solemn, determined. The picture had been taken when he was still a trainee, for his cheek still had the dark symbol that marked him as a trainee of the Talons. Gray scowled, cursing inwardly.

"A trainee?" Maji Ra sounded curious.

Lante sighed. "Yes. The one who deserted at the last graduation."

"Following his forefather's footsteps," Syk murmured.

Gray ground his teeth, feeling a wash of anger. The urge to punch something yellow was strong, and he wasn't even sure why. The kid was a traitor. He had run off to play with the Kairg, so why did he even care what Syk said? Stupid brat. Look at the mess you've made!

"Is something wrong, Gray?" Raith wore a tiny frown. He watched Gray carefully, and Gray realized he'd tensed, forming fists. He forced himself to relax.

"No."

Syk sighed, giving his head a small shake. "It must be hard. The boy was your responsibility after all. It is quite regrettable, but as the only Talon remaining, it is only right that you help clean up the trash."

This. Freaking. Pig Bastard. Gray stared at Syk's bruised face. Anger reared its head, darkening his gaze considerably. For a moment, he teetered on the very thin boundary between Doing Something Incredibly Stupid and Annoying Reason. Annoying Reason won.

He inhaled deeply. Held it for a moment. Then exhaled heavily through his mouth. "That looks pretty bad," he said, gesturing at Syk's face. "You should get a medic to look at that."

Syk arched a brow in response. He seemed more amused than anything else. "How very petty of you, Gray."

"I could say the same."

"Gentlemen," Raith said sharply. "There are important matters at hand."

A grunt came from Gray's right, prompting him to look over at the towering flyer beside him. He'd nearly forgotten the flyer was even there. It seemed Driskal was a man of few words.

"I'm assuming you have tracked the kid?" Lante spoke. He didn't remove his attention from the picture of Jett's face. His own expression was carefully neutral, although there was something pensive to his gaze.

"Yes," Raith brought up the video on the tablet once more. "Up until recently, he was in Mianka. We pulled these from security feeds from one of the local parkades."

The video showed three figures walking past a row of cars. It was very brief, lasting only seconds. The quality was bad, making details hard to figure out. Everyone leaned in slightly when Raith froze the video in place. He pointed to the person in front of the small group.

"This girl," he said, "is one that we've apprehended earlier as a rebel. Her name is Moxie. And this," he tapped on the figure in the middle, "is our target."

Gray stared at grainy image. The indicated person was short enough to be the kid, that was for sure. And the hair was dark and messy. But the face - there was a lot of white material wrapped around the person's head, making it hard to see the actual features. That's a poor disguise. Or... are those bandages?

"Who's the other guy?" Lante pointed at the third person in the video. He was much taller than the other two, and he wore a long dark coat with a hood pulled low over his features.

"Most likely another rebel," Raith answered. His tone was dismissive. Ordinary rebels posed little difficulty, and frankly, the two people with their target were of no consequence. He had the tablet cycle through a series of video feeds, and although glimpses were fleeting, it was quite easy to follow a car that clearly had a madman at its wheel.

"They fled the city from the north side," Raith went on. "We lost eyes on them since, but it's only a matter of time before find them again." He looked up and for a brief moment, his gaze met Gray's before moving on to the others.

"Our plan is simple. Capture the boy. Ra'Skevvor will come for him, no question about it. As for dealing with Ra'Skevvor..." Raith gave a tight, pained smile. "We'll take a page out of his own book. He won't ever know what hit him."

xxx

Jett awoke when the car came to a sudden stop. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder as he jerked forward. Then he slumped back against his seat like a bag of jelly, blinking slowly. Fog swirled in his brain, shadowed by waves of exhaustion.

Beside him, Raven's fuzzy form unfastened his own seatbelt, the buckle clicking as it released. The flyer leaned forward and placed a hand on the seat in front of him. "Turn the car off," he said. "They'll be here in a minute."

"They?" Moxie's voice drifted from the front. She sounded tense, irritated. "Who's they? What's going on?"

"You'll see," Raven said. Moxie grumbled something in response. In the next moment, Jett heard the car's engine cut off, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Fabric rustled, and then Raven's face hovered above his own. "Hey. You awake?"

Jett looked up, tried to focus, but Raven's face remained somewhat fuzzy around the edges. His eyelids drooped. They felt like they weighed about a hundred pounds. It was too much work to keep them open, so he let them slide shut. That felt so much better.

A sigh came. Then a strong hand settled on his shoulder. Something clicked, and the seatbelt holding him in place let go. Jett felt himself starting to slump to the side, but then an arm slid around his shoulders. Next thing he knew, he was curled against Raven's side. Warm fingers pressed against his cheek, then his forehead.

"You okay?" Raven asked.

Jett exhaled softly, feeling utterly boneless and relaxed and oddly content. It felt nice, he thought hazily, to lean against someone, to let them hold him up for a change. No. Not just someone. Raven. My brother. Jett felt like he was dreaming.

"Jett?"

A small sound came from Jett's throat, a lazy attempt at making a sound of acknowledgment. He moved a hand closer, fingers brushing against a fold of Raven's coat. The material felt coarse beneath his touch. After a moment of hesitation, he curled his fingers around the material, grasping onto it like the last fleeting remnants of a dream.

Was this really real?

There was warmth against him, seeping through the rough coat, pushing against the cold ocean of emptiness that floated within. He swallowed, eyes suddenly prickling beneath the shielding layer of his eyelids. "Tired," he whispered.

"He looks more dead than tired," Moxie piped up from the front of the car. "He's probably-"

"Shut it," Raven said, soft and low and perfectly mild, yet there was an edge hidden within the words, one that made Moxie go deathly still; one that made Jett open his eyes and tilt his head back against the arm that held him by the shoulders.

Violet met black.

For a long moment, nothing was said. They just looked at each other. Jett felt displaced, like he was here in the car, but not. A small fragment of him sat with Raven – with his brother, a delighted miracle of amazement and wonder and happy relief – but the rest of him, all the other pieces of him, floated in that terribly cold and empty ocean.

Which one was real?

Which piece was him?

A frown crease Raven's brow. Jett stared at the wrinkle. He's been making that face a lot, Jett realized. Will he get a bunch of wrinkles stuck there if he keeps it up? His mind wandered to an image of Raven, all frightful in full armor and black Talon flyer suit. It was complete with narrowed violet eyes and a playful little smirk, the kind that sent shivers up the spines of any person who knew Raven. To complete the image was a series of deep wrinkles marring the otherwise flawless skin of the flyer's forehead.

It was completely and utterly ridiculous. Jett coughed, the breath rushing from his lungs in an airy wheeze. The urge to laugh came, though he only managed to gasp and cough like he was drowning.

The wrinkles on Raven's face only increased, deepening as the flyer looked at him with something close to worry. The effect only made Jett choke more, and he felt like he was lost in a delirious dream. He reached out and poked the largest wrinkle. "Shouldn't do that," he rasped. "Gonna be stuck."

Raven stared at him. Then he grabbed Jett's hand and pulled it away from his face. The furrow in his brow smoothed away, the tension seeming to sap away from his expression. "You're a strange kid," he said.

"Not as strange as you," Jett retorted. His voice cracked on the last word, though he didn't even notice. He felt light and dizzy and yet he didn't want anything to stop this moment, because he needed this. A moment of refuge before it all crashed down and the ocean tugged him down into its depths, to the icy embrace of shadows, of tears and screams and dark eyes filled endless madness –

No. Stop it. Jett closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, jaw clenching as pulled away from that thought. He sought the cold, the emptiness, and wrapped himself up in walls of ice. It was safe there. Empty, but safe.

He let go of Raven's coat, and forced himself to pull away from the flyer, to sit up under his own strength. Raven's arm fell away, but Jett could still feel the weight of his gaze. It prickled, and suddenly Jett didn't want to be the focus of such a gaze. He squirmed closer to the window, pointedly staring out at the road.

Moxie had pulled them over to the shoulder. A couple of vehicles roared past as Jett watched, their passage making him tense. They seemed too close. If the drivers misjudged or even inched closer, then –

"Um," Moxie's voice seemed small, uncertain. "Up ahead. There's –"

"I see it," Raven cut her off sharply. He sounded irritated. "That's our ride."

Ride? Jett turned away from his window and craned his neck so he could peek through the cracked windshield. He was acutely aware of Raven sitting next to him, but refused to look that way. It was too hard to bear.

Ahead, a large black truck rumbled towards them. Jett recognized it instantly as Troit military. His heart sunk and shocked static filled his ears. They found him. How had – did Raven -?!

A hand slapped his back forcefully, nearly throwing him face-first into the back of Moxie's seat. "Relax," Raven said. "They're here to help."

Even with that reassurance, Jett didn't move. His attention remained glued to the Troit military truck as it neared. The vehicle slowed, then did an abrupt U-turn just before it reached them. He watched as it pulled onto the shoulder just ahead of them.

"Time to go." Raven opened his door.

Moxie paled. "But that's –"

Raven's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Get out of the car," he said flatly. He stepped out. The door slammed shut with unnecessary force.

Jett didn't move. The Troit truck sat where it was. Moxie slowly twisted in the front seat so she could see him. For once, she appeared to be nervous.

"I'm not sure what's going on," she said. There was dirt smudged on her chin, Jett noticed, and then he was looking into her eyes. They reflected his own uncertainty back at him. "If," she began, but Jett never got to hear the rest of it.

His car door opened, and Raven was there, grabbing hold of his arm firmly. Jett was pulled out of the car unceremoniously. His feet found the ground, though it seemed to heave beneath him. Staggering, he grabbed onto Raven's coat to steady himself.

"Stay in the car or come with us," Raven spoke through the open door to Moxie. "Your choice."

Then he was striding towards the Troit military truck, dragging Jett along with him. Still clinging to Raven's coat with one hand, Jett glanced back. Why does she get a choice, he thought bitterly.

The driver side door of the truck popped open. A River flyer stepped out, his pale blue boots lightly tapping the pavement. As he turned to face them, Jett balked, suddenly afraid. This was a Troit flyer. In a Troit truck.

What the heck was Raven thinking? Not only did Troit want to lop off Jett's head, they had no idea that Raven was even alive. This was insanity!

His meager resistance made no difference to Raven. He didn't even seem to notice as he practically dragged Jett off his feet and across the pavement. The River flyer grinned as they reached him.

"Finally made it, eh?"

He had a friendly, boyish face, with smiling green eyes and a smattering of freckles dusting his nose and cheeks. His dirty blonde hair - too long for Troit regulations – was done up in a messy man bun. How he managed to fit his helmet over that, Jett had no idea.

"Yeah," Raven said. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around Jett's arm. "Did Mouse make it?"

"He was called to Mianka," the River flyer answered. "It's just me, I'm afraid."

"I see."

Jett looked from one flyer to the other, nose wrinkling in confusion. There was something going on here, some conversation being held that he wasn't privy to. The River flyer looked over at Jett and a soft smile brightened his face.

"I'm glad you finally found each other," he said. Then he stepped forward and offered a hand. "I'm El."

"El?" Jett repeated the odd name. He eyed the flyer's outstretched hand warily. This guy seemed nice enough. At the very least, he didn't appear like he was going to whip out a gun or sword and arrest Jett on the spot. Hesitantly, he reached out and took the flyer's hand.

El squeezed his hand gently, giving it a firm shake before letting go. Then he tossed something at Raven, who snatched it out of the air without even a blink. "She's all yours."

Opening his hand, Raven revealed a set of keys. His lips quirked upwards. "Thanks, El."

"Anytime, Raven. Let us know if you need anything else, yeah?" El noticed Jett gaping at him, bewilderment all over his bandaged face. He winked. "Take care, kid."

Without any further words, El engaged his helmet. He strode into the middle of the road, not caring that there were two oncoming cars. A moment later, his boosters rocketed him into the sky. It swallowed him up into its pale gray-blue hue. Despite trying to track him, Jett lost sight of the River flyer within moments.

He shook his head, pushing down the sense of awe that rose within. Is that why their suits are blue? His face itched, and he absently reached up to scratch it. A hand caught his wrist, tugging his arm down.

"Don't," Raven said. He was looking at something past Jett's head. "Decided to join us then?"

"Hn." That was Moxie's voice, in something between a grunt and a growl. Jett turned and saw that she had her arms folded across her chest. She stared at the truck, looking as confused as Jett felt.

"How -?" Jett began.

"Friends in high places," Raven smirked. He gently pushed Jett towards the truck. "Troit is probably trying to track you, and they'll eventually find the car. That's why El brought us a new ride."

The flyer pulled open one of the back doors and gestured for Jett to climb in. Jett did so, but immediately frowned at the flyer. "But how -?"

"I told you," Raven pointed at the seatbelt. "I've got friends. Is that so strange?" Jett sighed and fastened it. None of Raven's answers were satisfactory. He wanted to demand proper answers, but a wave of exhaustion had him leaning back into the seat.

Moxie climbed into the back of the truck from the other side. Wordlessly, she took the seat next to Jett, giving Raven a hard look, as if daring him to say something.

He just lifted a brow and closed the truck door. A moment later had him settling into the driver's seat. The truck's engine burst into life, a steady, deep rumble that spoke of pure power. These things were practically tanks, Jett knew, and he felt a lot safer than he did in the car. Though part of that had to be the fact that Raven was driving instead of Moxie.

After they traveled down the road for a while, Moxie finally broke the silence. "Where are we going now?"

Raven didn't answer immediately. He glanced up at the rearview mirror, and his reflection peered down at Jett. Not once did he look over at Moxie, even though she had asked the question.

"Shann Tei," he said softly. "We're going to Shann Tei."

Where it all began. It was left unsaid, but hung in the air between them, heavy and stifling. Jett swallowed, feeling a wave of foreboding. He turned away silently, away from Raven's gaze, away from it all, and closed his eyes.

Beside him, Moxie started peppering Raven with questions, wanting to know why. Wasn't the place a wreck? Surely there was nothing there for them.

Jett tuned it all out. He sunk deep into the ocean of cold, and there, it was quiet. Calm. Sleep came for him there and he did not resist.