This was not how he expected things to go.

When he'd formulated this plan, he'd allowed for several possibilities and had prepared the means for dealing with them. Everything that might go wrong, he thought he'd covered it.

After all, he knew full well what kind of world this was. Remnants at war, corrupt and selfish leaders trying to rule the shards of a kingdom with old laws that were no longer viable, a madman with far too much power at his hands, twisted and so intent on finishing the destruction of those that remained.

It was a given that his little brother would not come through unscathed. He'd accepted that. Allowed for it. Thought he was prepared for it.

He'd made a mistake. A miscalculation.

And now Jett was paying for it.

"Mr. Black?" A very small, very subdued voice spoke.

I should have warned him. No. I never should have left him. But that would have ruined his plans. He needed Jett to draw attention, to hold the focus so he could finish his preparations. And now that everything was ready, it wasn't. Because Jett was lost in his own nightmares, trapped there by the insanity Ra'Skevvor had subjected him to.

That bastard always knew where to hit so it hurt the most, Raven thought darkly. He resisted the urge to whirl and pound his fist right into the wall, if only because he wasn't alone and it wouldn't do for them to witness Mr. Black losing control.

How he hated this charade.

"Mr. Black?" Her voice came louder, more persistent, but still wavering with nervous fear.

Frustrated, he snapped his gaze to the young woman standing stiffly by door. Unlike most found in these tunnels, it was made of metal and fitted snuggly into the concrete wall. Right now, it was closed.

"What," he nearly hissed, only managing to temper his tone at the last second. Some of his ire must have seeped through however, for she jerked as if slapped and took a hasty, unconscious step back.

"Uh...I just wanted - I just wanted to know what you wanted us to do." Alainna's eyes darted at everything nearby except him.

Raven regarded her for a moment, a faint furrow between his brows. He noticed when she flinched, appearing like she wanted to move yet another step away. Her entire body stiffened and she clasped her hands in front of herself tight enough to whiten her skin.

Afraid, he thought. A small measure of satisfaction came at the sight, mixed with a weary resignation. She should be afraid. He'd left his little brother in her care, and she had failed. Part of him acknowledged that it wasn't her fault – she couldn't have known Jett would have been triggered like he had – but the fact remained that she had failed.

This world did not treat failures kindly.

Raven allowed his expression to ease, allowing a neutral mask to fall into place. He glanced towards the silent, bandaged man standing beside her for a moment, before returning his attention to her.

"You will go topside," he said coolly. "Take a scout team with you. It won't be long before visitors begin to arrive, and I want to know the second they appear."

She blinked, surprise clear on her face. Then she glanced at the closed door, hesitating. "But what about –"

"He is no longer your concern," Raven cut in. He watched as the surprise morphed into guilt, then into hurt. She was aware of her failure, then. Good. Another time, perhaps, he would have forgiven her and given her another chance. She seemed to get along well with his little brother, after all.

But this was now, with things already set in motion that could not be stopped, and Jett was far too important for second chances.

This was a world were failures meant death. Where mistakes meant death. This was a truth that Raven knew all too well.

"Go now," he commanded coldly. "Do not come back until you have something to report."

Her face paled, eyes widening, blinking, growing shiny with unshed tears. She was no fool. She understood that she was being relegated to a mere scout position, a far cry from being one of his most trusted aides. She failed, and this was her punishment.

Without another word, she whirled and fled, her rapid footsteps echoing down the tunnel long after she was out of sight.

Raven turned to the only other person remaining in the tunnel. "Seb," he said.

The bandaged man crossed a hand over his chest and bowed low, a wordless, elegant gesture. When he straightened, his brilliant green eyes found Raven's without hesitation, without fear. A dangerous look to carry in one's eye, Raven thought, and if it wasn't for the quiet respect hidden within those green depths, a hint of honest loyalty, Raven wouldn't have allowed such a dangerous man to remain in his City. He was certain Seb was aware of this.

"Do not let him out of that room under any circumstances. Look after him, and treat him as you would me. Understand?"

"Watch the little white crow," Seb murmured, "In his dusty dark cage. If he wishes to know, perhaps I ease his rage?"

The words were simple enough, but Seb's meaning was anything but. Raven frowned slightly, an old injury on his chest aching from the cold damp that was forever present in these tunnels. He lifted a hand and rubbed the area, fully aware of Seb's perceptive gaze.

"Do you think that is a good idea?" He finally asked.

Seb didn't blink.

"You are the raven," he said simply. "He is the crow."

Raven's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. So. Seb knew, then. How that man had uncovered something that Raven had taken great pains to hide, he didn't know. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Seb was frighteningly sharp. He could piece together a novel of information from a mere handful of scraps.

Why bring this up now? What was his point?

Now Seb was watching him again, waiting to see how he'd respond. How he'd take that little slip of information. I know who you are, traitor Talon of Troit. And I know who your brother is, also traitor Talon of Troit.

Well.

Raven lifted a single brow, a perfect arch of inquisitiveness. "You didn't answer my question."

I don't care, Seb.

Seb blinked. He actually blinked. Raven didn't think he'd ever seen the man blink like that before. Huh. Imagine that.

"Hm," the bandaged man brought a fist up to his mouth, politely covering it while he cleared his throat. Smooth recovery, Raven thought, lips twitching even as his violet eyes narrowed a fraction.

"This is Haven, a trap for the Foe," Seb said, as if it was an obvious thing everyone should know. Which, between the two of them (and only the two of them), it actually was. "Whole one must be, to wield the Key."

That was a good point. And also a part of the problem. Raven didn't have a clue as to how to even begin doing so. He needed Jett. As much as he hated that fact, as much as he didn't want to drag the kid further into this mess, he had no choice.

Ra'Skevvor, in his own twisted little way, cared for Jett. The moment they'd met on the wall, Raven had seen it. He'd recognized that maniacal little glimmer of realization in those cold, pitiless eyes and knew exactly what it meant.

He himself used to earn that sort of expression from Ra'Skevvor. It lasted for years, until he proved himself far too resistant for the Kairg Leader's liking. But in Jett's case, it was different. Worse.

While Raven had inherited just the genetics for the man's speed, Jett had received everything. The kid was literally a carbon copy of Ra'Skevvor, the only difference being his kindness, his compassion, his humanity.

It was as much a strength as it was a weakness. Raven knew that Ra'Skevvor would only view it as the latter, and the Kairg Leader would undoubtedly see it as a blemish to be stamped out, an obstacle to be removed before true power could be achieved.

Raven closed his eyes, exhaling softly. A cold tendril of unease and guilt coiled tightly within. No doubt that is what he tried to do with Jett.

Death would be too good for him.

"If you can help him," Raven opened his eyes and fixed Seb with a cool stare, "Then do so. I need him there when I finish this."

Seb bowed, green eyes bright. "As the raven does ask, I will peek 'neath the mask."

Something about those words was chilling, yet Raven took care not to show it. He merely gave a sharp nod. "Fine. I've got something to look after, so I'll be out for a while."

Seb merely inclined his head in response. Satisfied, Raven turned to go. Then he stopped, a thought striking him. He turned around.

"Hey, make sure he eats something. It's been a while, I think." Raven scowled inwardly. I think? I don't even remember when he last ate. He never said anything. Why wouldn't he say anything? He's already skin and bone.

Seb nodded once more.

Feeling somewhat annoyed, Raven's jaw clenched tight, and he quickly strode off into the tunnel. What kind of brother forgot to feed their sibling? A horrible one, he thought grimly. Just like how a horrible one abandons you to a monster.

He could only hope that Jett would forgive him.

Especially once all of this came to an end.

~*RW*~

Dusk turned the skies into darkened hues, a mere strip of yellow over the horizon the only remnant of the sun. The Troit military truck kicked up dust as it drove across the dry and sparsely grassed field.

He'd left the road several miles back, choosing to take the shortcut and less easily-tracked route to his destination. It wasn't a particularly smooth ride, and it seemed every couple of seconds the truck bounced over an uneven patch in the ground.

Not that Raven cared. A small furrow had settled into place between his dark brows. It'd been there for the entire drive.

He spotted his destination just ahead. Well, his first destination, anyway. A small building sat in a thicket of tall pine trees. Short and square, it was built out of cement blocks and painted a matte green that perfectly matched with the surrounding trees. Unless one was purposefully looking for it, the building would be hard to notice.

Raven drove right up and parked the truck before the trees. He got out, tossing the keys on the driver's seat. The truck would be of no use from this point on.

As he approached the camouflaged building, the door opened and a Scout flyer stepped through. Though he was lean in build, the flyer's face was built square and solid, with a heavy brow looming over brown eyes. His chestnut hair was damp with sweat, betraying the fact that he'd most likely just arrived here not long ago by flight. He wore the dusty colors of the Reconnaissance flyers and had a pair of firearms strapped to each leg. Raven thought he spotted some interesting – and illegal – attachments to them.

A smile quirked at his lips. "Still carrying those around, Scott?"

The Scout down at his weapons, then looked up with a bland expression. "Why not? There's nothing wrong with them."

"I didn't say there was."

"Then why do you keep checking them out every time we meet? You jealous?" Scott waggled his eyebrows in something that was borderline lecherous.

Raven rolled his eyes heavenward before drawling, "I don't need illicit items to get job done. I'm perfectly capable of finishing on my own."

"Oh, I'm sure you are," the Scout smirked.

Despite himself, Raven chuckled softly. He missed this. The easy banter, the comradery, just being around other flyers was like a salve to his being. These were people who understood, who'd lived a rough life, who'd shed blood and sweat and tears for a war that should never have been. Granted, that kind of life produced a few oddballs, like the one standing before him, but he wouldn't complain.

"Do you have it?" he asked, smiling faintly.

"Of course," Scott scoffed. "Do you think I'd come out here to meet the legendary Talon himself with empty hands? Come on." The Scout turned and went back into the building.

Raven followed. The lights were on, revealing a compact little room. Radio equipment filled the far wall, while supplies lined racks on another. There was even a refrigeration unit filled with food and medical supplies that needed the cool temperatures. Two cots were tucked into the corner with spare blankets folded on top. The third wall was a small hallway lined with lockers, and it led to a small bathroom with a shower.

This place was part of a network that had been abandoned long ago, and most of its sister buildings had been destroyed or left to ruin. This one, however, had been secretly maintained and stocked by a few people who quietly hoped for a better future.

After glancing around, Raven's attention returned to the Scout, who'd since found a heavy metal case. Scott held it by the handle in one hand, and offered it to Raven. "There you go. El sends it with much love. He even added in a spare battery pack. Charge should be enough to get you through the night."

Raven took the case, eyes narrowing. "It's not El's is it? His wouldn't even come close to fit-"

"It's not," Scott interrupted him with a guffaw. "Though I'd love to see you try and cram yourself into one that size. It'd be quite the show!"

I'm sure it would be, Raven thought darkly. Without responding, he walked over to one of the cots and set the case on top. He was relieved to see that the security hadn't been engaged on the case, so he was able to flip it open with no trouble.

Inside laid a blue flyer's suit, complete with all the dismantled armor and booster pieces.

Raven sighed. "This is going to be a first."

"What, putting on a flyer suit?" Scott quipped. The Scout came up beside Raven, glancing down at the suit with no small measure of curiosity.

"No." Raven shrugged off the long gray coat he'd worn for the longest time, and tossed it onto the bed beside the case. Beneath the coat, he'd been wearing his own black suit, though he'd removed all of the bulky armor pieces so it wouldn't be obvious beneath the coat. He looked down at his own suit, the one that had literally been his second skin for years.

"Ah," Scott said, understanding in his tone. He said nothing further, only watching silently as Raven began removing the black suit.

Several minutes later, Raven had traded black for blue, and looked very much like a different person.

"How's the fit," Scott asked, handing over a blue cuisse, an armored piece meant to protect the upper leg.

Raven took it, and fitted it over one thigh. "Strange," he said, grimacing. "But it'll do the job."

"El thought it might. The guy who it belongs to is your height and has a close enough build."

Raven pulled on the chest piece, tightening it with a small wince. It was a little too tight, only just bearable. "How'd you get him to give up his suit for a day?"

"Heh," Scott grinned, flashing his teeth. "Poor guy had an accident. Bad enough that the medics had to remove his suit to tend to his injuries."

"How devious," Raven muttered, though he didn't bother hiding his amusement. Whatever "accident" the flyer had suffered, it at least didn't leave blood all over the suit. "One of the Troit boys, then?"

The Scout raised his hands, palms up, and shrugged. "Who else?"

Now that everything was put together, Raven gave his borrowed a suit a thorough check. Everything was fastened in place. The boosters were where they should be, firmly attached to his suit. Even the wing spikes themselves, jutting out from the sides of the forearms in short, evenly spaced intervals, looked functional.

"After all this," Raven said, "I hope you have my friend's coordinates with you."

"Yep." Scott dug out a piece of crumbled paper, upon which a set of long numbers was scrawled. He held it out between his first two fingers.

Raven snatched it. Looking at it, his violet eyes narrowed. "Is that a four or a nine?"

"Can't you read? It's a four," Scott crossed his arms across his chest.

"And this – is that supposed to be an eight?"

"What?" Scott went to Raven's side, peering at a paper. Raven tapped at it. Scott scowled. "That's not an eight. That's a three! How can you not see that?"

"Your writing is worse than a blind, illiterate guy with no fingers," Raven said flatly.

Scott made to snatch the paper. "Like yours is any better!"

"I at least know the difference between a three and an eight," Raven pulled it out of reach. Before Scott could try and get it again, Raven crumpled it up and tossed it into the air. Before it even began to fall, he'd pulled out a blade and ignited the energy field surrounding it.

Light rapidly flashed in a dozen of pale blue cuts. He had the blade sheathed and secured at his waist before the ball split apart into hundreds of tiny white specs. They floated down like snow.

"Show off," Scott muttered under his breath.

With a smirk, Raven just turned and walked to the door. "I'll be back later."

"Don't take too long. Or I might find a can of blue paint somewhere and turn you permanently into a River flyer."

Raven didn't respond, but his fingers twitched. The Scout wouldn't dare. Messing with another flyer's suit was asking to be brutally murdered. He hoped Scott knew that. He better know it.

He tapped at his throat, waiting for the helmet to slide up and enclose his head. It felt restrictive, almost claustrophobic even though it wasn't any less close fitting usual. It just wasn't his own, and that made all the difference in the world.

At least it functioned like any other flyer suit. Moments later he rocketed up into the sky, climbing over a hundred feet before he let the wings flare out. As he evened out in flight, he forced the boosters to burn at full power, and they whined in high pitched complaint.

Time was of an essence. He wasn't sure how long these coordinates would be good, and they were quite a distance away. So he pushed this suit to the limit, flying as hard as it could handle.

Minutes passed into hours, and the sky became speckled with stars. Shrouded by night, Raven's form passed unnoticed, save for the distant whine of his boosters.

He flew most of the night.

When his helmet's display notified him he was nearing his destination, Raven cut his main boosters and coasted in like a silent ghost. In night vision, he was able to make out the shape of a canvas tent. Several yards away, a pale shape paced back and forth aimlessly. A guard?

Or maybe just someone trying to walk away some of their stress.

Raven switched to thermal view. Flyers' suits shielded their wearers from thermal view, but what flyer wore their helmet all the time? Absolutely none. He saw two orange blobs pop out against a background of cool blues and purples. One remained completely motionless inside the tent. The other belonged to the person pacing outside. The fact that only his head showed up as giving off heat betrayed him as a flyer.

Switching back to night vision, Raven swooped low, wings flaring soundlessly before he landed softly behind the pacing flyer. As quiet as he was, he couldn't avoid the few light steps he had to take to stabilize himself.

The other flyer spun around with a speed that he normally didn't show. Starlight glinted gray off his armored flyer suit. He lifted his hands, as if not sure whether he needed to fight. "Who're you?" he hissed, tone low, wary.

With a wry smile, Raven disengaged his helmet. It slid away, allowing cool night air to blow refreshingly upon his sweaty face.

"Hi Gray," he said softly.

It was hard to tell with the poor lighting, but he thought Gray looked shocked. Which was to be expected, he supposed, since he was supposed to be dead, but –

Oh.

He saw the punch coming a mile away, but he held still and let it land. Pain and stars exploded in his vision. He stumbled back, one hand cradling his face.

I guess I deserved that.