As it turned out, Raven's underground city even had a kitchen. Jett had been quite impressed, despite the fact that it was extremely lacking compared to Troit's cafeterias. Not that he was in any position to complain - when one had an empty belly, food was food no matter what facility it was prepared in.

He currently had a tin mug filled with hot broth in one hand, and a brick, er, some kind of bread in the other. The bread was very dense and rather flavorless, but when soaked in the broth, it became a lot more palatable.

"How is it?" A young woman came to his table, uncertainty all over her face. She wrung her hands together, then seemed to realize what she was doing because she stopped the nervous motion, instead awkwardly wiping her hands on her filthy apron.

"S'good," Jett told her around a mouthful of bread. He chewed and chewed and chewed some more. His jaw ached from the effort, so he paused to take a sip of hot broth.

Her face fell. "It's awful, isn't it?"

He shook his head and swallowed, though it took some effort because it wasn't quite chewed all the way through. His jaw needed the break. "It's not bad," he said. "It's much better than mush."

"Mush?" She looked appalled.

"Toe jam mush," Jett nodded, then shuddered at the memory of it. Yeah, Troit might have had nicer cafeterias but their food was horrendous. "I'd rather eat this any day of the week. Thanks, Ava."

She stared at him. Then she lifted a hand to her mouth and giggled softly. He smiled at her, glad to have made her laugh. He'd met her a few days ago when Raven introduced them. As the granddaughter of one of the Troit Elders, she was essentially Raven's hostage.

But she didn't act like it, and Raven didn't really treat her like one either. In fact, Ava worked hard, lending a hand wherever she could, though her latest stint had her helping in the kitchen. She wasn't the greatest of cooks, but she wasn't the worst either.

"You're so different," she murmured. Her eyes followed his movements as he sipped the broth then dunked the bread into it again.

He gnawed off another piece, and with a mouthful of bread, asked, "Differen'? Wha' ya mee?"

Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she managed to hold back a laugh. "From Mr. Black, I mean. He said you were his little brother, but it's hard to see the resemblance."

Jett paused mid-bite, a scowl darkening his face. "Of coursh we're the 'ame. We're 'oth f'yersh!"

Somehow Ava understand the garbled words that came out of his mouth. She smiled, shaking her head. "Yes, you're both flyers. But you... you're so bright and kind, while Mr. Black feels... sad at times. It's like he has this dark goal he's marching towards, and it's the only thing keeping him going at times."

His first instinct was to dispute this, because Raven was his big brother and everything about him was awesome and could she even think something so depressing about him? He hurriedly swallowed his half-chewed food so he could answer her properly, but before he could even open his mouth, she went on.

"But he's changed, you know. Ever since he brought you back here, he's been a little less gloomy." She giggled, and reached out to poke him in the forehead. "Don't make that face, or you'll start looking like him!"

Jett swatted her hand away, though he couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, I don't think so. Who wants to wear a black eye? I'm too smart to get into fights with bricks."

A shadow fell over him right at that moment. Somehow Jett knew who it was without even looking up. This guy had the best – or worst – kind of timing.

With a little laugh, Ava turned and went back to her work.

"You say that," said a very familiar voice from above him, "but you don't know this brick. It's a real mean one."

"Uh huh." Jett shoved the rest of the bread in his mouth, grimacing. His jaw ached from the effort of trying to chew. He finally looked up into the hooded face of his brother. There was a good reason Raven wore the hood, but Jett was starting to hate the thing.

"Wha' yoo 'ere fer?"

Lightening fast, Raven smacked the back of Jett's head. "Don't talk with your mouth full. That's disgusting."

Jett grimaced and rubbed the smarting area. Then he scowled. "Tha' wash unneshisharee."

"I can't understand what you're saying," Raven said calmly. "It sounds like nonsense, which is rather worrying since I can only assume your brain has been scrambled. The best treatment for that sort of thing is-" he abruptly lunged, but Jett was ready for it. 

Jett dove off the seat, rolling into a neat somersault that ended with him in a crouch. With monumental effort, he swallowed the bread, grimacing as it dragged against his throat all the way down.

Then he sprang to his feet, leaping back to avoid Raven's sudden grab for him. The older flyer blurred as he darted closer. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth as Jett dove under Raven's outstretched arm. It was a risky maneuver, but he didn't dare get trapped in a corner.

Three seconds later, they were in a full-out spar in the kitchen. Jett darted under makeshift tables while Raven vaulted over them. Both of them weaved around Ava and the other people working in the small space, using them as obstacles to try and slow the other down.

To their credit, Ava and the others barely even flinched. This was not the first time Jett and Raven had decided to have an impromptu spar here. It was becoming something of a common occurrence, really.

The smart ones flattened themselves against the walls, where they could safely watch without being treated as a human pylon. Ava, however, ignored the two combatants. She knew they wouldn't bump into her, so she determined to keep at her work – food didn't make itself and there were many mouths to feed in this Underground City.

And then Seb appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Black," he softly said. "Little White. Your attention, if I might?"

Instantly, Raven pulled back, going from trying to kick Jett's feet out from under him to standing motionless in the kitchen so fast, that Jett lost his momentum and sprawled ungracefully on the dirt floor.

Perfectly composed and not even breathing hard, Raven brushed the dust off his coat. "What is it, Seb?"

"Jerk," Jett muttered. He glared up at his brother from the floor, before getting to his feet. Somehow his clothes were covered in dirt from rolling around on the ground, and his hair was a spiky disaster.

Ava's quiet giggle drifted from across the room, but it was drowned out in Seb's next statement.

"An intruder has been found," murmured the bandaged man. "I have him bound, but I think you should see. Would you come with me?"

"Oh?" Raven sounded intrigued. "An intruder? Come on, Jett. Let's go see who this brave fellow is!"

With an odd gaiety that Jett didn't share, the older flyer gestured for Seb to lead the way. Seb nodded, lifting a lantern that he'd prepared beforehand, and headed back into the main tunnel.

The three of them traveled down a series of passageways, some of which Jett didn't think he'd been through before. Several of the sections had been heavily timbered with thick tree trunks, with the wood lining both walls and ceiling. It made for a stifling, uncomfortable walk, as it seemed like the trees were the only thing that kept the tunnels from collapsing inward.

A fine layer of dust covered the ground, muffling their steps. It made Jett feel like the walls were closing in, suffocating him. Even though he'd become more or less used to the dank tunnels, these particular ones were ten times worse and he hated them.

Eventually the walls morphed into smooth concrete and the overhead ceiling became rounded. Sound became less muffled.

Seb found a metal door in the wall, which he promptly yanked open. It squealed like a dying pig, echoing grotesquely down the tunnel. Without so much as a blink, the masked man stepped through. The light went with him, beaming out from the open doorway like a beacon.

"Ladies first." Raven waited for Jett to go next.

Rolling his eyes, Jett went, but not without accidentally on purpose elbowing the flyer on the way. It wasn't his fault that Raven stood so close. Swinging elbows were a real hazard in crowded situations. His brother grunted softly, but otherwise didn't react. 

Jett felt slightly disappointed, but forgot about it as he took in the short, concrete hallway before them. The air felt damp and cool, and held a stale scent. Unlike the main tunnels, there wasn't much ventilation here. It also felt darker, quieter, and Jett found himself inching closer to Seb, who held the only source of light.

Two more metal doors, one on either side, waited for them at the end of the hallway. Seb went to the left one. He shifted the lantern to his left hand, while he fiddled with a ring of keys in his right.

"Where'd he get the keys?" Jett whispered to Raven, who'd come to stand beside him.

"The key store," Raven promptly answered.

Jett glared at him, though it went entirely unseen in the darkness. Realizing this, he settled for another elbow jab, but oddly enough, he met nothing but air. Jerk. "Whatever."

By now, Seb had found the right key and unlocked the door. When he pulled it open, a blast of even staler air came rushing out. Jett was close enough to get a face full of it, and he grimaced.

The three of them entered this new room. It must have been storage for something at one point, since it was square, small, and possessed rusted metal shelving along the back wall and large holes in the floor where something had once been fastened down. A discolored patch remained on the concrete between these holes, a remnant of what had once been there.

Jett took note of these small details before his attention went to the room's feature presentation: the prisoner. The man lay on his side, arms tied behind his back, with his ankles pulled up behind him and fastened to his wrists. A dirty canvas bag had been pulled over his head. From the state of his clothes, it looked like he'd been crawling through the tunnels on his belly.

At their entry, the prisoner twitched, but otherwise did not move. He made no sound, either.

Raven approached the prisoner, his boots coming to a halt right beside the unknown man's head. His hood tilted downward, observing the prisoner with a mild curiosity. "So this is our guy, huh?" 

A visible shiver ran through the prisoner's frame. He tensed, aware that he was under scrutiny. Jett caught it, and felt slightly sorry for the guy. He knew what it was like to have Raven's undivided attention.

"Where'd you find him?" Raven stepped around the prisoner, his boots coming down within centimetres of the man's covered head. He continued his slow, too-close circle around the prisoner, who flinched with every step.

"Edge of the city," Seb answered. "Quite the pity. I would have liked to see, if our defenses he could flee."

Raven paused. He now stood by the prisoner's torso, his toes an inch from the man's belly. "Our outer patrol caught him?"

"That is correct. Caught in the trap, without a map." There was a note of satisfaction in Seb's voice. "Easy to detect."

"I see." Abruptly, Raven knelt and tugged the bag off of the prisoner's head.

The revealed prisoner's face was pale and sweaty, his brown hair plastered to his head. Gray stubble dusted his jawline, which was set in a very determined line. His brown eyes glared up at Raven defiantly. The prisoner wasn't a handsome man, by any means, and he'd clearly lived a hard life, for it showed in the deep weathered lines upon his face. If Jett had to guess the man's age, he would have placed it to be somewhere in the forties, if not fifties.

"Hello there," Raven said pleasantly. He smiled at the prisoner. The light from Seb's lantern splashed across his chin, allowing everyone in the room to get a clear look at his smile. It was perfectly pleasant, yet the prisoner couldn't suppress a shudder.

Jett grimaced, very glad that he wasn't in the prisoner's position. His brother was very good at intimidating people, even when he was being perfectly nice.

The prisoner spat. He missed, the glob of spit hitting the ground a few inches away from Raven's right boot.

Raven tilted his head. He was still smiling. "I wonder how many more of you there are? Venturing into these tunnels, wandering about in the dark, looking for clues..." He trailed off, watching the prisoner's face. Other than a muscle twitching in the man's jaw, there was no other response.

"Oh!" Raven made a soft exclamation, like a thought just occurred to him. "Maybe you were looking for someone." And with that, he shuffled aside, gesturing to Jett who stood several paces behind him.

On cue, Seb turned the light so that Jett was illuminated. Startled, Jett froze in place. He watched as the prisoner's gaze shifted towards him, unable to stop himself from looking where Raven indicated.

The prisoner looked. His eyes widened just for a fraction of a second, before his expression smoothed out into its defiant mask. It was too late, however. He'd already given himself away.

Raven chuckled softly. He rose and turned away from the prisoner. "It seems you've been found out, Jett. Troit knows where you're hiding."

The man on the floor twitched.

So did Jett. It was like someone trickled ice water down the back of his neck, and he shivered, an anxious flutter in his belly. His gaze went from the prisoner to Raven. "How-?"

"He recognized you," Raven said calmly. "And he's not one of my people. Who, other than Troit, would bravely venture into my underground city?"

"He could be Kairg," Jett suggested.

"He could be," Raven agreed, "but if they suspected you were here, Ra'Skevvor wouldn't send a mere lackey to investigate. No, he'd come himself."

The trickle of ice water turned into a waterfall. It crashed over him in a torrent of dread and horror, and he swayed, eyes wide and throat closing up. He felt sick, dizzy. Somewhere along the line, his heart began pounding, so hard that he could feel it beat in his chest.

"No," Seb's voice snapped through the darkness like a whip, sharp and sudden. It sounded like a warning, or a rebuke. "Woe, for the crow."

Jett heard it and flinched. He'd wrapped his arms around himself, fingers digging into his arms. The pain helped chase away the dizziness some, but it couldn't stop the overwhelming flow of fear. The words spilled out of him in a whisper. "He can't come."

A low curse came from Raven. "Seb, deal with this guy." In two big strides, he was at Jett's side, curling an arm around Jett's shoulders. He led the way out of the room, remembering to shove the door shut with a foot. It closed with a groan, but no one paid attention to it.

Outside in the tunnel, Raven turned to face Jett, resting both hands on his shoulders. He squeezed gently, and Jett looked up at him with dark, frightened eyes. A large part of him wanted to scream, to flee, to shove it all away beneath layers and layers of ice where it could hide in the dark, but hiding wasn't much of an option anymore. Not when he'd started to unlock the doors in the sessions with Seb.

"He can't come," Jett whispered. "He can't, he can't!"

"Shhh." Raven pulled Jett in for a hug. "It's all right. I'm here."

Jett nodded, focusing on breathing deeply like Seb had taught him. He also focused on Raven's arms around him. They felt strong, sturdy, and safe. It reminded him that he wasn't alone anymore, that even if his nightmares came roaring back, he didn't have to face them on his own.

He relaxed a little, exhaling a shaky breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to... to lose it in there."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Raven drew back, and fished in his coat pockets for a glowstick. He snapped it, and it began to emit a soft yellow glow. "I should have been more careful. Now, let's talk it through. What were you feeling?"

Despite the shakiness and lingering terror, Jett managed a weak scowl. "You're trying to Seb-talk me," he accused.

"I am," Raven said cheerfully. "Now answer my question."

Jett rolled his eyes, unable to help himself. As far as therapists went, Raven was a terrible one. But that didn't stop him from trying, especially with Seb advising them both that talking things out was very important. It wasn't the first time that Raven had done the Seb-talk thing, and Jett knew it wouldn't be the last.

He shrugged, eyes flicking to the side. Heat rushed to his face as he mumbled, "I was scared."

"What were you scared of?"

"Y'know." Jett folded his arms. The far tunnel wall seemed rather interesting at this moment, all with its dull grayness that he could barely see in the darkness. The glowstick's light didn't reach very far, sadly.

"Do I?"

Jett huffed. The jerk always did this. The small bit of irritation helped him push the words out. "I'm scared that he's going to come back."

"Who's he?" Raven's voice was surprisingly gentle.

Jett's jaw clenched. He stayed silent.

"Come on, Jett. You need to say it."

I hate Seb-talks, Jett thought. He swallowed thickly, eyes prickling as emotions warred through his heart. It was always hard to say these things aloud, to hear his own voice bring his thoughts to life. It made them real. Terrifyingly real, because once it was out there, it became really hard to deny it.

"We've gone through this before," Raven reminded him. "You can do it."

Yeah, that particular session was one that Jett wouldn't ever forget. Both Seb and Raven had been in on that one. It'd been ugly and horrifying and awful, but that was the first time he talked about what had happened to the rebels at the farmyard.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself. Fear raised its head, as did the usual guilt and shame that accompanied it, and he closed his eyes. It took everything he had to whisper the name. "R-Ra'Skevvor."

"Yes," Raven softly said. He dropped a hand onto Jett's head, heavy and comforting. "That piece of crap pig-bastard jerkface."

Hearing such a colorful set of names assigned to the person of his nightmares, Jett's eyes widened. He stared at his brother.

"He thinks he's so tough with his tin-can war machines," Raven went on, a dark note entering his voice, "but he's just a crazy old fartface. He looks scary, might even talk scary, but you know what?"

He paused, smirking a little at the stupefied expression on Jett's face. "We outnumber him, two-to-one. And we're younger, smarter, and a whole lot more handsome than he is. Old Fartface doesn't stand a chance."

"F-fartface?" Jett tried to attach that name to that silver-masked, black-eyed visage. He failed miserably. He choked on his own spit and started coughing.

Raven's smirk grew. "Right. Just call him Fartface from now on. And anytime you start thinking he's scary, just remember that."

It was ridiculous. And stupid. But by the time Jett managed to regain his breath and stop coughing, most of his fears had faded. Fartface, he thought, and a bizarre, twisted amusement almost made him smile.

"Now," Raven grew serious. He looked down at Jett, lips drawn into a pensive line.

"What?" Jett asked.

"It's too soon," Raven sighed. "But there's not much choice to it now, since Troit's already here. Jett. There's something I must ask of you. It's not going to be easy, but we don't have any more time."

That made him feel a little worried. But also curious. All kinds of curious. Jett asked hesitantly, "What is it?"

In the dark tunnel with only the light of the glowstick to see by, Raven told him.

Jett swallowed nervously. His hands curled into tight fists, tension making his shoulders stiff and his back rigid. Yet he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of excitement. Something sang in his heart, a weak, tremulous little note of glee that rose above the ocean of fears that lapped at his feet. Finally!

He lifted his chin. He looked deep into the shadows of Raven's hood. And he nodded. "I'll do it."