Jett woke in a panicked flurry of blankets and confusion. Cold damp air and a faint yellow glow greeted him. Nothing was familiar and for a second, he had no idea where he was or why he was here. He clutched the blanket – soft and warm – in tight fists, his breath unsteady as he stared into the shadowed room.

Instinctively, his eyes sought out the only source of light and settled on a flickering flame set inside a lantern. This lantern rested on a small table, giving off a warm golden light. He fixated on it like a lifeline, as if its presence could help ground him, help slow the rapid beating of his pulse.

"Oh," said a woman's voice. "You're finally awake."

She spoke flatly, like she was displeased, and Jett couldn't help but flinch. For a moment, he wondered if he was in a prison, because the atmosphere of this place was claustrophobic and unwelcoming.

He sought out the source of the voice and found it sitting in a chair next to the lantern. She was little more than a dark shape, the lantern unable to do more than illuminate the one side of her shoulder and face. There were more shadows than light, and as Jett stared at her, he started to remember why he was here.

It did very little to soothe his unease.

"Why are you here?" he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

She made a soft, frustrated sound. "Because you need watching, apparently."

Right. Jett rubbed at his eyes, recalling the events from the previous day. His dear brother had given him a reluctant babysitter named Alainna. He sighed. "I don't need watching. He's just being ..." He gestured, unable to find the right word.

She said nothing, yet he could feel her watching him. It made him incredibly uncomfortable. Had she watched him the whole time he was sleeping? How very creepy of her. It was a miracle he'd even managed to fall asleep in the first place.

With a scowl, he shoved the blankets aside. He was still in the clothes he'd been wearing before, and now they felt grimy. And the few bandages that still remained on his face were even worse. He hurriedly pulled those off and dropped them on the floor, not even sure why he still had them because at this point, the scratches were almost healed.

Jett made a face, wishing for his flyer suit. It was so much better than these stupid rags, since it never held onto dirt and sweat like these.

Still, that was the least of his worries right now. There was another matter that held increasing urgency.

"Is there... is there a place I can um, you know?" He waved his hand in a vague gesture.

She just looked at him. "What?"

"You know," he gritted his teeth. It was a good thing it was dark in here, as she couldn't see the embarrassed flush warming his face. "The bathroom. Is there one I can use?"

"Oh," she shifted her weight in the chair, sounding somewhat embarrassed herself. "Right. Sorry. This way." Without further ado, she grabbed the lantern off the table and pushed past the door, which happened to be a heavy curtain hanging over the hole in the rock wall.

Jett eyed it curiously before he followed his guide. As far as doors went, it kind of sucked. He thought about complaining to Raven, but immediately decided against the idea. Raven would probably take the curtain door away and replace it with a trio of salivating rabid dogs that would just sit in the doorway and pant through toothy grins.

Nope, Jett definitely was not going to complain.

They walked in silence until they reached one of the main tunnels. This one was lit with a string of lights along one side, and although it provided enough light to see by, he was grateful for the lantern. Something about the little flame flickering merrily in its glass case was comforting.

"How do you know where you're going?" He finally asked, unable to bear the silence.

Her face twitched in what could have been a smirk. Or a frown. It was hard to tell in this dim light. "I just do," she said.

That was not the answer he was hoping for. "There's gotta be a map of this place," he tried again. "How else do you not get lost?"

Alainna giggled, much to Jett's surprise. "A map? Oh no. There's no maps."

"Then how do you find your way around?"

His guide glanced over at him, her lips curved into a smile. "It's a secret."

Jett scowled. "You've been hanging around Raven too much."

Her smile widened for a moment, then she abruptly turned and entered a narrow tunnel to the left that Jett hadn't even noticed. This one had no lights and Jett had to keep close to share the lantern's light.

"You call him Raven," she said, stating a fact rather than asking.

Jett nodded, forgetting she wouldn't see it since he was walking behind her. "Yeah...? That's his name."

"Huh." She huffed out a breath. "Why wouldn't he tell us that? Why use 'Mr. Black?'"

She sounded annoyed, Jett realized. He bit back a smile. "Probably because 'Raven' is supposed to be dead."

"What?" She whirled around so suddenly, Jett nearly crashed into her. "What did you say?"

Jett stared at her with wide eyes, totally taken by surprise. "Um. He's supposed to be dead?"

She blinked, then frowned, then narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. The wide range of expressions crossing her face was somewhat fascinating, and Jett couldn't help but wonder what was going through her head. Abruptly, she turned and started walking again, though her pace was rushed.

"He tells us nothing," she muttered. "We don't know where he came from or why, only that he showed up when everything blew up and started picking up the pieces. He did something that no one else could, and no matter how much I ask, he never explains anything!"

She stopped, spinning around once more. Her hands darted out, grabbing onto Jett's shoulders with a painful grip. Alainna leaned forward, her face mere inches from his. She took a deep breath, then blew it all out into a flurry of words.

"Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he gathering so many weird things in one place? Why does he care so much about Troit and what they're doing? Why is he so secretive? We're his people, shouldn't we know what his plan is? Is he like this on purpose? And is that his real eye color? I've never seen eyes that color. I don't think I was supposed to see, but I -"

She cut herself off, biting her lip. Jett's eyes had glazed over from the onslaught of questions, and he could only stand helplessly like a mouse caught in an owl's talons. They stared at each other, until Jett gave his head a little shake.

"Uh... can I go pee now?"

"Ugh." She released him with a shove. "So frustrating!" With a little huff, she stalked down the tunnel. Jett followed, hoping that bathroom was not far off because he really had to go.

The bathroom, if it could even be called that was literally a cave cut into the wall with a hole in the ground. It stunk horrifically, and he turned to regard Alainna with watering eyes while he held a hand over his nose.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "This is what we've got. Be grateful there's paper to wipe with and water to wash up." She pointed at the stack of old magazines, some of which had several pages ripped out.

Jett eyed them dubiously, then at the bucket of foul gray water sitting in the corner. Yeah, he wasn't sticking his hands in that. He wouldn't even touch it with a stick.

"Hurry up," she ordered, shutting the door on him. Or to be more accurate, she let the curtain door fall back into place. Because of course the bathroom had a flimsy curtain door, through which she could hear everything he was doing.

Jett cringed. Raven was definitely going to hear about this. Some Underground City this was. It was primitive and gross and everyone was going to die of the sewer plague. If the smell didn't get to them first.

Breathing through clenched teeth, he quickly finished his business and wiped his hands on a sheet of glossy magazine paper. It didn't help much. For a moment, he considered the bucket of water. In the pathetic light provided by the single lightbulb overhead, it looked murky.

He leaned closer. Is that a grease bubble? It looked like something was floating within, a dark shape just below the surface. He recoiled, feeling ill. No thanks.

Shoving the curtain door aside, he left the 'bathroom'. The stench seemed to follow him, and he grimaced. All these tunnels, and he couldn't build a proper bathroom?

Alainna was waiting for him with a determined expression on her face. "All right," she said. "We're going to take a walk. And while we're doing that, you're going to answer some questions. Since you're so close to Mr. Black, you can tell me everything he's not telling me!"

That sounded ominous to Jett's ears. He frowned, thinking it over. It wasn't like he knew what that guy was up to. It was impossible to tell what Raven was thinking even on the best of days. If she wanted answers, she was going to be quickly disappointed, because all he had were a few stories.

Wait. Jett blinked. He had quite a few stories, actually. What would Alainna think if she learned about Raven's bizarre training methods? That'd probably knock him down from the pedestal she'd clearly set him on.

Jett almost giggled at the thought. He smiled, feeling immeasurably more chipper than he had moments ago. "Okay."

If Raven hadn't wanted her to learn all his dirty secrets, then he shouldn't have assigned her to unnecessary babysitting duty. Oh yes, there were many things Jett could tell her.

~*RW*~

"You're kidding."

"Nope," Jett shook his head. He was grinning so wide his face hurt. "It's all true!"

They'd given up on touring the tunnels a while ago, and had settled for sitting on the cold ground, backs against the wall. The lantern rested between them, casting shadows that stretched out into the tunnel on either side of them. Aside from the occasional passerby, they were left undisturbed.

"I don't believe it," she declared. "Where would he even find a giant cat? How would he even sneak it into such a guarded place?"

Jett shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that I woke up one morning and it was right there, breathing in my face. Its paws were as big as my head!"

"That's crazy!" Alainna slowly shook her head in disbelief.

"I know! And even worse, he had it chase me all over the place! I'm not even sure why – what kind of guy does that to his own brother?"

That earned him a giggle, and she covered her mouth as if to muffle the sound. "It's weird, but I'm not that surprised. I can totally see Mr. Black doing something like that."

Smiling softly, Jett leaned his head back against the rock. Even though she knew the man's real name, she still referred to him as Mr. Black. Despite her great amusement at his stories, it was clear she still held a great amount of respect for Raven.

It seemed he still had quite a bit of work ahead of him. Perhaps he should tell the 'Raven snores' story next. He chuckled softly, just as quiet footsteps approached the left tunnel.

"You," said a ghostlike voice, barely louder than a whisper.

Both Alainna and Jett looked up towards the sound. Someone stood a few feet away, their body turned away from the lights so their face remained in the shadows.

Alainna just frowned, not really upset or surprised at the intrusion. Several people had already passed by since they'd been sitting here, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Jett however, felt a thrum of unease. Without realizing it, he got to his feet, his attention fixated on the shadowy figure. Something about it was wrong.

"Who-?" Jett tried to ask, but the words caught in his throat and clumped together in a jumbled mass. He swallowed. Tried again. Mouth opened, but no sound came out and he was trembling, because this shadow shouldn't be here. It was wrong.

The shadow stepped forward, each movement jerky like a puppet on strings. Its face caught the light, revealing a twisted, horrified expression that made Jett's head snap back like he'd been physically punched.

"Why," the shadow stared with empty, accusing eyes that burned like fire, "Why are you here!?" The shadow was not a shadow but a face, a horror, a splash of acid that burned and it was all wrong and there was a name.

That name waded through the cold terrible dark and into the open, and Jett remembered it. He stuttered, consonants catching and tripping before they managed to break free.

"T-T- Tarrod?"

"Huh? You guys know each other?" Alainna was talking, but Jett didn't hear her. Couldn't hear her. There was too much noise in his head, sharp cracks in ice splintering across his mind, screeching and groaning as the world 'round him began to strain and wobble beneath the mounting pressure.

"They all died," said the Tarrod-shadow. It sounded broken, like it wanted to sob. "They all died because of you."

Choose, came a whisper. Soft. Compelling. Choose.

"No," Jett shook his head, his hands following the motion because somehow they'd moved to clutch at his scalp, fingers tangling with thick hair. "... no, no, no."

"Jett?" Alainna's voice came from far away, sounding concerned. Frightened. So faint, so distant, just a whisper of sound easily drowned out by everything else.

"Jett," Tarrod-shadow's voice was so close, as if right next to his ear. So clear, so sharp, an ice-pick piercing through every shield with terrifying ease. "You shouldn't have come here. What if he follows you? He's going to kill everyone here too!"

Choose, came a rumble. Louder. Closer. Choose!

Jett squeezed his eyes shut, tears prickling and burning. "No," he choked. "I can't!"

CHOOSE!

Black eyes stared him in the face, framed by a flash of silver. They watched. They waited. And people wailed, filling his head with screaming, pleading, because he had to choose three and there were too many to choose from.

A weight settled on his feet, and when he looked down, he saw empty brown eyes in a too-white face dotted with freckles. Dead lips curved, smiling sadly. She always had a smile for him. Even now.

Jett spun on his heel and ran.

~*RW*~

"I'm sorry," he said, arms folding against his chest tight as if to push back the rising panic. "I didn't mean to ..." He couldn't finish the sentence. How could he finish it when he didn't even know himself? Mean to ... what?

It didn't matter anyway. Nothing but empty air surrounded him, with no one around to hear his feeble apology. Tarrod released a shaky breath.

Alainna had ran off after Jett, shouting something, whether it was after Jett or at Tarrod himself – he didn't know. He only remembered the way Jett had crumpled, the broken look that was exactly like – like –

Then.

He wobbled, the strength leaving his legs, and he fell to his knees. Hard rock impacted his flesh, though it went unnoticed. Tarrod stared blankly at the opposite wall without really seeing it.

Things flitted through his mind, images and sounds, mere pieces that were scattered to distant corners. If he tried, he'd be able to pull them all back together and see the whole picture, relive it in all of its terrible glory. But he didn't dare.

His vision blurred with hot tears, yet not a single one fell before he swiped angrily at his eyes.

Why?

Why did he feel so ... so guilty?

When he saw Jett, smiling and laughing with a pretty girl like nothing was wrong, he'd gotten so angry. How could he? How could he be laughing when he'd been the cause of so much death? Like it didn't even matter that everything died around him wherever he went? That all their lives meant nothing, and he didn't care at all.

Flyers were the worst. And the white one, the one that lied and broke his promises of helping, of protecting, was the worst one of all. This is what Tarrod thought, yet instead of feeling angry, there was only nauseating guilt churning in his gut.

He curled in on himself, closing his eyes tight and wishing to forget.

A sound echoed down the tunnel, a low, keening wail that raised goosebumps on his flesh. No sooner had it ended than it began again, rising and falling in a chilling wave. Somewhere further down the tunnel, people shouted, but their faint voices were drowned out in the eerie wails.

Flinching, Tarrod pressed his hands against his ears. Stop it, he thought. Stop it stop it stop it!

Running footsteps pattered against the ground like falling rain, and a tall figure dashed past at inhuman speeds. Tarrod didn't see it. But he felt the rush of cool air brushing against his skin, and when he looked up, he was alone in his section of the tunnel with only the eerie cries reverberating around him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.