O N E

   THE SOUNDS OF HIS BLOOD drip-dropping from his body and to the ground flooded Sebastian with an odd semblance of peace. Save himself, the tray of bloodied and abused tools to his left, and the metal chair he was strapped to, the room was empty. His torturer, the dear friend he had become, was gone and had been gone for quite some time.

   Sebastian had been through worse, and would go through worse things still, but this time it was well worth it. This time he was waiting for someone special. He could escape, call for back up even; his dear friend still hadn’t found the earpiece tucked deep within the right side of his head. No. He was waiting.

   Let’s talk about Sebastian’s dear friend for a moment. Well, what’s the nicest way to put this? He was everything that Sebastian wasn’t. The man had a hairy gut that hung over the hem of his dirty pants and was shorter than most. He wore big boots to compensate for his height, and probably other things too, and kept touching, always touching, his greasy head of black hair that whipped and slicked with oil every time he turned his head.

   You know, torture wasn’t exactly Sebastian’s cup of tea, but it seemed a walk in the park compared to when one of those chunks slapped him in the face. But, there was nothing he could do about it. Not yet.

   You see, he’d been counting down the minutes. If his intel was right, and she usually was, Daniel Scott would’ve been captured on his suicide-run-of-a-mission six hours and thirty-seven minutes ago to be brought here.

   Sebastian had been welcomed into this room by his dear friend exactly six hours, thirty-one minutes, and twenty-two seconds ago. Make that twenty-three seconds. Why hadn’t he just waited until the last minute to get captured himself? Hey, don’t ask me. After all, I’m just the narrator, an no one ever asked the narrator for his opinion. If someone wants to take a dump without wiping, then who am I to say otherwise?

   Anyway, the room was one of the best torture rooms he’d seen in a long time. Maybe The First Sons were trying something new. The room was perfectly white with no windows and only one door. Where walls met ceiling, tucked away fluorescent lights lined the seams from corner to perfectly lit corner. The specks of his blood that had been flicked onto the walls broke up the white perfection.

   Now the door’s hinges cringed and the door itself started to swing open. It was Sebastian’s dear friend. I’ll have to tell you later about the pool of blood that rippled in the middle of the room with every repetitious drop that joined it.

   “Hola mi amigo!” Sebastian snorted. He didn’t speak Spanish, but it helped lighten the mood. After all, his dear friend would be dead in five minutes and thirty-six seconds. Make that thirty-five seconds.

   “Shut the fuck up! You don’t ever stop talking!” Sebastian’s dear friend, I guess we can all him Chuck for now, slammed the door behind him and hawked a loogie at the floor. Yeah, let’s just stick with Chuck. Chuck’s a good name.

   “But you keep coming back. Which, leads me to believe that you enjoy our time together. I also see that you still haven’t taken a shower. I’m sure they make candy flavored shampoo.” Sebastian tried to lean back in his seat, but the slashes across his back tore open where congealed blood met sore skin. Well, it wasn’t congealed anymore, and Sebastian ignored the unrhythmic dripping of his blood now.

   How much blood had he lost? It was hard to tell. It didn’t matter. This was just another part of the job description’s fine print. He’d been trained for it.

   “How about I cut out that tongue of yours?” Chuck, big boots and all, sauntered, or at least he tried to saunter, across the room, but he just jiggled with each step. It was hard to respect those big boots if what was in them jiggled every step.

   Right, we almost forgot about Sebastian’s pool of blood. We need to talk about that. Like a public bathroom, the four sides of this room ever-so-subtly tilted inward so all the blood, guts, shit, and piss could be whisked away via a drain directly beneath Sebastian, or whichever victim Chuck had found that day. Except, it would seem that Chuck had kept the drain plugged up. Maybe it was some psychological thing. Maybe, he wanted his guests, can we call them that, to feel, see, smell, and even hear what had once been in their bodies sloshing around their feet. Except, I wouldn’t give Chuck that much credit if I were you. My guess is that he was simply too lazy to clean his own damn drain.

   Anyway, there’s one more thing. For the most part, three walls in the white room were untouched, but the wall behind Sebastian was almost as bad as the floor beneath him. It had four straps for the wrists and ankles of Chuck’s guests to be restrained by. There, I called them guests. It’s where Sebastian had been whipped again and again. There, now you know the room.

   Where were we? Ah, that’s right. Chuck and his big boots were sauntering across the room in a jiggly fashion. He wasn’t actually going to cut Sebastian’s tongue out. Everyone who falls victim to the torturous devices of people like Chuck are then recruited into The First Sons, and they wouldn’t be of much use if they couldn’t communicate with the people who basically owned them after that. If they said no, then their torturers could cut their tongues out. But Sebastian hadn’t any plans for joining The First Sons. No, he was already a Rebel and he liked it.

  “Listen, we both know you’re not going to cut my tongue out.” Sebastian, hands and ankles still tied to his chair, nodded to a stainless scalpel on the tray next to him. “Use that scalpel for something more creative.” He taunted Chuck. “I mean who really needs nipples?”

   “You just don’t stop, do ya?” Chuck snatched the scalpel up and smacked a pair of bloodied pliers off the tray in the process

   “Not usually.” Sebastian smirked.

   “Fine. Nipples it is. I’m gonna like this.” Chuck took a step closer.

   “I’m sure you are, big boy.”

   “What was tha-”

   “Nothing. Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” Sebastian waved his hands in some half-hearted surrender. Only his fingers moved, because it would seem that maybe Chuck was actually good at something: tying knots.

   “Why I oughta...” Chuck reeled back and then lunged at Sebastian.

   Sebastian, however, didn’t hear what Chuck oughta. Nor did he feel him send his knuckles into his cheek, then his other cheek, then his chest and gut again and again. Instead, he only heard his intel talking to him through his hidden earpiece. He only felt her sweet, soft voice. Although, he did see that Chuck was still holding the scalpel, clenching it in his fist. Good. He’d need that here shortly.

   “Seb, they’ve just entered the building. Are you ready?” So sweet. So soft.

   “No, but I’m about to be.” Sebastian groaned beneath the full force of another gut punch given to him by his dear friend Chuck. Maybe Chuck was good at two things: tying knots and throwing punches. Still, I wouldn’t want to give him more credit than he deserved. Besides, the fatty hadn’t even realized that Sebastian had gotten his left foot free.

   I take it back. He’s not that good at tying knots.

   “What was that?” Chuck, clearly a little proud of himself, hobbled backwards to catch his breath. Man, he was fat. “Ya want more?”

   He was still clutching the scalpel. This was Sebastian’s chance, his only chance, to get it from him. Antagonize him some more. Now that’s a plan.

   “Not as much as you want that box of doughnuts in the break room.”

   “Why I oughta tear ya a new asshole!”

   Oh, that’s what Chuck oughta. Well, Sebastian oughta do whatever he could to make sure he lived the rest of his life with only one asshole. Yeah, one was enough. Anyway, Chuck, through the pool of blood and sweat, rampaged at Sebastian. His poor knees must’ve been screaming beneath the weight of all the other doughnuts that had come before. If they weren’t, if they had somehow adapted to a lifetime of sweets and treats, they would be in just one more step.

   It wasn’t a pretty kick, but it certainly got the job done, and then some. Chuck stepped with his left foot and started to lift his right one to, well, to cut Sebastian a new asshole at high speed. That’s when Sebastian brought the pruney and wrinkled pads of his freed foot into that screaming kneecap of Chuck’s. With a snap, crackle, and pop, Chuck’s left leg bent the wrong way and he hit the floor in front of the chair with, you guessed it, a rippling wave of not only blood, but jiggles. It all sent a satisfying tingle up Sebastian’s spine. Chuck didn’t scream though. Did he not know what had literally just happened? Was he unconscious?

   It didn’t matter. Sebastian saw what he wanted, what he needed, what Daniel needed him to want: the scalpel. It was almost buried in blood. There, next to Chuck who was still face down on the ground, it glinted and shown in the fluorescent lights.

   The skin of his wrists rubbed raw as Sebastian stretched his left leg, his free leg, out to slide the blade toward him. Just when he thought he was going to tweak a tendon, and in the midst of cursing himself for not taking those yoga classes, he felt the very tip of his big toe just barely touch the warm, stainless handle of the blade. With a fluid motion, he slid it toward him, flicked it up, and caught it in his right hand. Man, he had gotten good. Or maybe he had just done this too many times. Probably the latter.

   Leaving his dear friend Chuck behind, Sebastian walked through his own blood with more poise than a man should’ve been able to walk with after having lost said blood, and cracked his neck as he stood in front of the door. The hollow sounds of other Chucks torturing their victims for reasons he would never know lapped against the other side of the door like waves against a shore; he’d never be able to save them all. Like I said, he was here for one.

   “Now I’m ready. I have a...” He looked down at his scalpel. “...a really big knife.”

   “You have a scalpel again, don’t you?” She always saw right through him.

   “Yes. Yes, I have a scalpel again.”

   “Of course you do, Seb. Just hurry. They’re in the elevator.”

   “I’m on it.”

   He grabbed the door knob, and just as he started to twist it the sound of Chuck waking up stopped him. Chuck bubbled and snorted in the blood he had once drawn from Sebastian. Sebastian just stood there, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, amused at how long it was actually taking him to stand up. Ah yes, there’s the screaming.

   “Ya bloody fucking idiot! Ahhhhh!” Chuck clambered to his feet and tried to stand, but his left knee only buckled again beneath the doughnuts. Not as satisfying this time. “I oughta kill ya! I will kill ya!”

   In the middle of trying to stand up again, because it really wasn’t getting through to Chuck that he couldn’t simply stand up any more, Sebastian let out a sigh. In an instant, he was upon him. With a quick step, Sebastian closed the gap between him and Chuck, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and slammed the fatty into the chair. Chuck tried to stand back up again, but Sebastian wouldn’t let him. He screamed and shouted and pushed himself from the chair he had tied so many people to, but was caught by the throat by a hand that was far stronger, so much more powerful, than it should’ve been, and got pushed back down. He knew not to try to get back up again. He shivered, shook, and jiggled in the seat he had sown.

   “Seb, move now!” His inner ear shouted.

   “Stop the elevator.” Sebastian was too focused to say anything else. He let his fingers run across the tools on the tray now next to Chuck, the instruments that had sung such high notes the past six hours and thirty-seven minutes. Then he stopped on a syringe filled with some vicious liquid that still had swirls of his own blood swimming through it.

   “I don’t know if I can do that.” His inner ear broke the silence again.

   “Then try. This won’t take long.” Sebastian picked that syringe up and turned back to Chuck.

   “Wh-what are ya gonna do with tha-”

   Sebastian would be damned if he let the fat man finish his sentence. No, he didn’t get that privilege anymore.

   “You injected me with this two hours and ten seconds into our time together. I’ve never felt a pain like it. Who else have you used this on? Women? Children? I wonder, what is the lethal dose? Surely, you know. Tell me...” Sebastian knelt in front of Chuck. More blood soaked into his jeans, his shirt was long gone. Heck, he couldn’t remember where it was or what it even looked like. “...do you know my name?” He grinned.

   “No, I-”

   “Of course you don’t. How could you. I haven’t introduced myself, yet. My name...” He flicked the needle’s tip. “...is Sebastian Samuel Smith, and you’re done disgusting me.”

   Chuck’s baby-blue eyes grew wide with more fear than the fat man knew they could hold. He was sitting before Sebastian Samuel Smith. Perhaps he shouldn’t have threatened to give the man, the legend, a second asshole, or even threatened his nipples at that. Oh, his nipples.

T W O

   SEBASTIAN SAMUEL SMITH quietly clicked the door shut behind him and left Chuck, oh the dear friend that he was, screaming, writhing, thrashing about behind it. It might’ve made for good entertainment to keep listening to the profanities that spewed from the man’s mouth, or even try putting together the fragmented sentences that seemed to be cut off by wailing and crying at the good parts at that. Alas, Sebastian had work to do; Daniel had just arrived at his floor.

   “Piece of shit elevator! Took us long enough to get up here.” One man scoffed at the other as the elevator’s doors dinged open.

   “You’re telling me. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on this boy for hours.” The other man scoffed back.

   Sebastian could hear the three of them coming closer and closer, he could almost feel their presence, but he couldn’t see them. The elevator was down the hallway to the right and he was still standing by his door breathing. Breathing. He had to breath, to do all he could to calm his senses. He would need whatever strength was left in him to take the two men out as cleanly as possible. He did let himself chuckle when he heard Chuck flop against the other side of the door one last time. Then silence. Then footsteps.

   Daniel, hunched over and afraid, fearful for his life and rightfully so, shivered between the two men. They were just as greasy and oil-laden as Chuck had been, but neither of them were nearly as jiggly. Daniel on the other hand was a fair looking boy, but only that: a boy. There was no way he was anywhere past thirteen. What an idiot. What a jackass. What a pompous prick. Sebastian already liked him. Odd, Daniel wasn’t begging for freedom yet. Oh yeah, he definitely liked him. Sebastian took another breath and pondered who else he’d have to kill to get out of there.

   “How many after this?” He whispered beneath his breath and loosened his grip on the scalpel.

   “Just these two and it’s a straight shot to the SUV they drove up here in.” Sweet. Soft.

   “Thank you.” Sebastian took one more breath and only one more. It was time. He was done counting.

   The two men with Daniel in tow turned the corner and Sebastian pushed himself up and started walking down the center of the hallway at them. They didn’t take note of him at first. I mean, why would they? The only way someone left their room without their designated Chuck was by the pits of their arms being dragged leaving two lines of crimson behind them. But Daniel noticed him, and Sebastian just winked at the boy.

   “Excuse me, do either of you know where the bathroom is?”

   Oh, they took notice of him now, but it was already too late. The man standing on Daniel’s left already had a slit in his neck the length of the hand he tried to cover it with. He gargled and coughed a cacophony of spurts in a single second and sent half his blood onto to the wall across the hallway. Who needed torture rooms anyway?

   The other man, the one standing on Daniel’s right, had enough time to lift his pistol, but not enough to do anything else. His left knee snapped inward toward his right knee and his head found Sebastian’s calloused hands. With an extra gargle from the first man and a crunch from this one, both men collapsed beneath the overbearing weight of their dead bodies. Sebastian took another breath. Daniel did nothing. I’m not even sure he knew what had just happened. Nope, he did, and he started to panic.

   “Wha-what the shit? Why did you do that! Why did you kill them?” Daniel staggered backward as he searched for some air, any air, to breathe.

   Sebastian was confused. Well, not entirely. Yeah, yeah, he did just kill two men right in front of the boy, but damn, Daniel should’ve expected something like this. I mean he was the one to attack a First Sons supply truck. That’s what his suicide-run-of-a-mission was by the way: attacking one of their supply trucks, successfully I might add.

   “You do know they were going to torture you, right?” Sebastian looked around the hallway as if he were missing something.

   “I know. I know. B-but you just-they’re dead!” Daniel kept looking for air.

   “Yeah well, that’s what happens when your jugular and carotid get cut in half, or your spinal cord tears. Are you sure you’re the right Daniel Scott?”

   That question seemed to catch Daniel off guard. He had apparently found the air he was looking for and used it to steady himself, and asked a genuine-but-still-stupid question.

   “Wait, how do you know my name?” His pubescent voice cracked.

   “Oh man I don’t have time for this shit.” Sebastian shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

   Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the stupidest of questions, but it was still kind of a stupid one. Sebastian really did not have time for that shit and had to get them out of there. He could answer questions later.

   “Get your shit moving, Seb. There’s chatter on their comms and they’re coming.”

   “I guess the sounds of death gargles are pretty obvious. Okay, we’re heading out.”

   “Good. Stay quiet and be safe. I’m cutting comms.”

   “See you soon.”

   “You too, Seb.”

   Sebastian dug his finger deep into the right side of his head and pulled out the small, skin-colored earpiece that had been burrowed in there for what seemed like an eternity. The damn thing itched like a bastard. He flicked it and his scalpel at the man whose neck he had broken, grabbed Daniel by the upper arm, and started walking them to the elevator that had dinged open just two lives ago.

   “You’re coming with me. I’ll tell you how I know your name later.” He jerked at the boy’s arm to make him move a little faster.

   Surprisingly, thankfully, Daniel didn’t fight back. In fact, Sebastian felt a little bad, but only a little, for jerking his arm like he had. No, the boy followed him into the elevator, out of the elevator, and through the front door each of them had come through during different parts of this timeline.

   The actual escape had always been this easy. Every single time, no one ever stopped Sebastian or the person he almost always took with him. No one ever expected their guests to simply walk out the front door. Idiots. And look, there it was. Right in front of the building was a brand-new SUV just waiting for them. It probably still had a spare key in one of the cup holders. Yup, it did...idiots.

   Two hours and eight minutes later, Sebastian slammed on the brakes and brought the SUV to a sudden stop at the base of an over-grown mountain. Say what you want about The First Sons, but they do have the best tech and equipment. In fact, most of the gear that The Rebellion had was stolen at some point in time from The First Sons. Don’t worry about them though, The First Sons had long taken over as the new reigning government, if you want to be so kind as to even call it a government, and had near-unlimited resources.

   “Come on kid. They’re going to want to process you before the sun goes down.” Sebastian slipped from the SUV and started toward a break in the trees with an actual saunter. A gentle brook babbled somewhere lost and hidden in the woods and it was almost dusk. He didn’t look back at Daniel but simply assumed he would follow; where else would he go?

   “Hey, I’m not a kid!” Daniel left his door open and did his best to catch up to Sebastian; like I said, where else was he going to go?

   Sebastian, still with that saunter, pushed through encroaching and groping bushes. He ignored the blabbering of the boy behind him. Though, it was comforting to know he was still following. Most people he brought back here argued and fought. Some just ran away. Whatever. Go get captured again. Sebastian wasn’t going to go back for them twice.

   Anyway, Sebastian eventually found what he was looking for: a gargantuan rock face whose flat wall towered stories above him. He was at the base of it and, from the sound of growing blabbering, Daniel would be at the base of it any second too. Sebastian cut him off when he finally broke through the last bush.

   “And who even are y-”

   “Do you know if they put anything in your butt?”

   “Wait, what?”

   “You’re butt, do you remember them putting anything in it when they captured you?”

   “No! Why would they put anything in my butt?”

   “So, you were awake the entire time?”

   “Yes! But why would they even do tha-”

   “Good.” Sebastian smirked again, he always enjoyed being a dick and messing with people, and grabbed the branch that was closest to him and pulled it aside. He was proud of the look he saw on Daniel’s face. It was that of sheer awe and curiosity blended seamlessly together before the sight that was only a few feet in front of him: a perfectly square corridor cut into the rock face with clean lines and corners that ran farther than light reached.

   But Sebastian’s smirk went away when he realized the ground he’d been standing so proudly on was coming closer and closer. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. Daniel on the other hand could. When Sebastian smacked the ground, the full force of a limp body following through, every cut, every scratch, every piece of torn and tattered flesh on his young body ripped open again. There, on the forest floor, Sebastian seeped from his body what little blood he still had. Six hours and thirty-seven minutes hit him like a freight train. He couldn’t push back this time.

T H R E E

   BRIGHT, WHITE, FLUORESCENT LIGHT clawed its way into Sebastian’s eyes. When he finally gave in to its artificial embrace, he was equal parts shocked and surprised to see that he was in yet another white room. There were no windows and only one door. Fuck’s sake, did he really get captured again? I know this is his thing and all, but come on. Couldn’t he have at least taken a break before this one. Whatever, he had work to do. And why was he on his back? He waited for his intel’s voice.

   “Aren’t you tired, Smith.” Not a question and definitely not sweet, nor soft.

   “Uhhh,” Sebastian tried to rub the sleep from his eyes but found that he hadn’t the strength for such a small thing, “I’m gonna say no.”

   “You don’t stop joking, do you?”

   “Sometimes. When I’m sleeping.” Sebastian now recognized the disconnected voice he was talking to. Now, if he could just find the body he knew it was coming from. If he could just find the strength to move his head even a little.

   The disconnected voice wasn’t impressed. But still, he played along and scoffed a response.

   “Yeah, the most peaceful sixteen hours of my life.” It cracked its neck.

   “Sixteen hours?” That was a new record for Sebastian. The war had been putting some city miles on him. Last he checked, he was twenty-one, but right now he felt like he was going on eighty. “Am I in the infirmary?”

   “No, you’re in your private room like you demanded the last time.”

   “Good.” Sebastian stopped trying to move his head.

   Last time, just so you know that he isn’t a total jokester or jackass, Sebastian’s torn and tattered body was laid-up in the last open bed in the infirmary, and he regrets that day. The week following that fateful morning had been a hard one for The Rebellion. The First Sons had made a push into the mountains and a lot of lives were lost on both sides. One specific life, the life a teenage girl, was lost because he was in the bed she needed for just ten minutes too long. He woke up to the sight of her, beaten and bloodied, being carried into the infirmary. If he had just woken up ten minutes earlier, been ten minutes stronger, she would’ve made it. That evening he requested an empty room be retro-fitted with life support, so he wouldn’t take up any more beds. If he died in his private room, so be it. No one was allowed to help him before they help the others. The disconnected voice brought Sebastian back from the memory.

   “Did you by chance tell the boy we were going to search his anal cavity?” The voice stepped into Sebastian’s blurry view. It was Commander Johnson.

   “I might’ve.” Sebastian smirked and found enough strength to chuckle. “Why? What’d he do?”

   “We found him outside the east entrance cradling your body. You had just passed out.” Johnson stroked his mustache down. Damn those whiskers if they escaped the grip of his upper lip.

   “You didn’t answer my question.” Sebastian kept chuckling.

   Johnson didn’t say anything, but he looked like was hiding something. Oh, he was hiding something all right, and Sebastian knew it: a laugh. They both knew it.

   “Come on Johnson, what’d he do?”

   It took the old man a short second, but he caved. He caved with a grin growing behind that white caterpillar beneath his nose. It took everything he had to answer Sebastian’s question without breaking his stern character.

   “He put his hands in the air and shouted at us that nothing was up his butt.”

   That was it. That’s all it took; actually saying it out loud was enough. Sebastian and Johnson chortled back and forth at each other. The hardened war veteran turned into a school boy and he held his belly as he gasped for air. Sebastian would’ve been holding his belly too, though it wasn’t really a belly compared to Johnson’s, but he still hadn’t the strength to lift his head. It was good to see Johnson relax a little. The laughing lingered a little longer before it simmered out.

   “Is he okay though?” Sebastian took a deep breath.

   “Yeah. Daniel’s okay. But he’s having troubles fitting in.”

   “They always do.”

   “This one’s different, Smith.”

   That caught Sebastian’s attention. He’d rescued kids before and they were always the ones to adapt the fastest. Really, The Rebellion never forced anyone to stay. Once someone was processed, butthole untouched, they got to choose what they did next. Kids were supposed to be the easy ones.

   “How so?” Sebastian managed to roll his head over and get a better look at Johnson.

   Johnson hesitated.

   “He’s a lot like you.” He sighed a deep breath and crossed his arms.

   Now that really caught Sebastian’s attention.

   “Oof, can you handle two of me?”

   “Ha! My thoughts exactly.” Johnson stroked his mustache one more time and started to make his way out of the room. “Get some rest, Smith. One of our nurses already patched you up and that regenerative cream should’ve kicked in by now. You know the drill.”

   “Hey, Johnson.” Sebastian actually lifted his head this time.

   “Yes?”

   “Keep an eye on the kid?”

   “If he really is anything like you, I’ll keep two eyes on him. Lights on or off?”

   “Off.”

   And the lights were off.

   Sebastian didn’t know how long he’d slept for after Johnson left his room. All he knew was that he slept well. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time he’d slept better. It took him a long minute, but he eventually pulled all the cords, wires, and tubes from his body. It took some uncomfortable, and oddly enjoyably, finagling to get his catheter out, but he liked to think himself a patient man and eventually conquered that challenge too. Albeit, there was a girlish scream when it finally popped out. None the less, he was free and the next available nurse would come and clean everything. All he had to do now was make it back to his actual room and out of the sterile, glorified broom closet he was in now.

   Bare-assed but with a thin blanket draped over him cover his bits by, Sebastian half leaned on the wall next to him and half walked down the hallway in front of him. The people he passed paid him no second glance. For all they cared, they were just lucky he chose to bring the blanket with him this time. It was as plain a fact as any that this is who Sebastian was and they just knew him. Even more, they already knew what he had just done, and they knew they didn’t want to do it themselves. Some revered him a hero. Some pitied him a fool.

   He made it to his room, dropped his blanket, and stood in front of his shower. Amazing. Buried miles deep within the Rocky Mountains of Colorado with nuclear snow blanketing the plains and hot water was still available. Incredible. He had been tortured time and time again, seen and experienced it all, and this hot water was always the worst. It’s the little things really. He took in as much air as he could and let it out as slowly as he could while he turned the shower’s single knob and steam filled his senses. Fucking amazing.

   He didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He didn’t beg for it to stop. He just pounded his fists into the wall every time a surge of hot water worked and weaved its way through the mountains and washed over his wounds. The Rebellion’s nurses were good, but no one was good enough to stop this kind of pain. That hot shower made Sebastian shiver.

   When his body was as clean as it was going to get without him daring to venture and scrub it, he turned the shower’s single knob back to where it was before and took delicate steps out of the steam; instinct guiding him to his bed. He collapsed on his stomach instead of falling on his back, because Chuck seemed to have had some sort of obsession with his back and the shower reminded him of it.

   “Owwwwww.” Sebastian moaned into his pillow.

   His blankets were cool. They caressed his dripping skin like a morning breeze and sung him back to sleep.

F O U R

   SOMETHING SHOUTED BITTERLY at Sebastian to wake back up: his stomach growled and churned in protest to the last forty-eight hour’s lack of food, and rightfully so. Sebastian was dry, but his bedding was still damp. A short nap. He needed food. So, he hauled himself from his bed and only moaned a little this time. Maybe he wasn’t as old as he felt he was. Perhaps he was only in his sixties? Surely, he was at least in his sixties. I digress. He grabbed the closest pair of compression shorts he could find and threw a pair of sweat pants on over them with a hoodie to match. Ah yes, his Netflix outfit; plus the compression shorts of course. He had enough decency to not be naked or free-balling all the time. Yet again, instinct told him what he needed to do and took him to one of the four mess halls hidden within this sector. He didn’t care which. And still, people paid him no second glance. Good.

   He turned a corner, then another, and another. After two more corners and one more turn, the succulence of powdered eggs and percolated coffee welcomed Sebastian into its warm embrace, but that embrace was sadly, sorely, shortly lived.

   The hub-bub and shouting of men and women, adults and youth, clambering to see something in the middle of the mess hall dashed Sebastian’s hopes and dreams of food away. And yes, they really were hopes and dreams. Carefully, he shimmied through the outer wall of people. One of them smacked him on the back in a sort of testosterone induced drunkenness, but he knew not to think anything of it. There was a time though, when he was just a teenager in the thralls of puberty entranced in a similar state of drunkenness, usually induced by the desire to impress the closest set of boobs, that he would’ve turned around and decked the guy. But as we talked about before, he was basically an old man and knew better.

   Shimmying passed the most inner wall of people now, Sebastian pushed through to the center of the group. The eye of the hurricane. All around him people hollered and howled. Fists were thrown into the air and small bets were even placed. Was this really worth betting on? What was even happening? And there it was: the sight, the spectacle, the thing worth betting on.

   At one of the metal tables that had been long-bolted to the floor with the dozens of other tables like it, the limp bodies of two Rebels draped and dangled over it like laundry hung to dry. They were breathing though. Thank God they were breathing, because the person who had hung them out to dry was still doing laundry. That was a sheety metaphor wasn’t it?

   There, in the eye of the hurricane, Daniel Scott was going toe-to-toe with a security guard who had made the reluctant choice of intervening. Daniel had red lines running down his young face and a gaping cut above his left eye, but he hadn’t seemed to notice these things. Instead, he brought his fists back up for round two with the security guard.

   “Fucking kidding me? Johnson was right. This kid’s my spitting image.” Sebastian let his lips whisper what he was thinking, smirking when the guard landed a good blow on Daniel. He should do something about this shouldn’t he?

   Sebastian cracked his neck and sort of jogged into the eye of the storm. He wanted to get there and not waste any time doing so, but he also didn’t what to get pulled into the fist fight that Daniel was starting to lose. The kid could bare to take a few more blows.

   Passing the two incapacitated Rebels, Sebastian found a small opening it the scuffle, because that’s all it was now: a scuffle. He slid into that opening and heroically, more like idiotically, put himself between Daniel and the guard. Daniel immediately recognized who was breaking up his fight, his scuffle, and did nothing to retaliate for said interruption. The guard on the other hand, fueled by the embarrassment of having such an out-of-control kid in his mess hall, grabbed and struggled at Sebastian, which was all fine and dandy until he actually landed an incoherent blow on his back. That’s it. Sebastian had only played the part of peacekeeper for a handful of seconds, and he was already sick of it.

   “Fucking A, Gus!” Sebastian let go of Daniel and caught Gus’s following fist in a shoulder lock and pinned him to the closest table. Oh, it felt so good. The pleasure of further embarrassing Gus almost made up for the pain that was the meeting of healing capillaries and a gloved hand. He twisted Gus’s arm.

   “You’re way out of line, Gus. Go get a drink and cool off.” Sebastian spoke into his ear as to only let him hear his reprimanding, but Gus wasn’t having it. Or at least, Gus didn’t think he was having it.

   “Get the fook offa me, ya git!”

   “I am your commanding officer...” Sebastian spoke a little louder but still not loud enough for anyone else to hear. “...don’t make me tell you again.” He ratcheted Gus’s arm a little more and stopped when he heard the man’s shoulder actually starting to creak. He knew Gus had a big mouth and an even bigger temper, but he also knew that he would never show weakness or pain. It took Gus a moment.

   “Aye sir. Sorry sir.” Gus finally relaxed.

   Without an exchange of any other words nor actions, Sebastian and Gus simply parted ways. Just like that, it was over. Sebastian let go and Gus, picking up whatever pride he had left, walked out of the eye of the hurricane. I must point out, it wasn’t really a hurricane anymore.  Sebastian had made sure of that with the side-eyed glared he gave anyone who stayed standing and staring at him and Daniel. Where was Daniel by the way? He should probably find him before he kicks someone else’s ass. Oh, there he is.

   Sebastian turned around to find Daniel still standing where he had left him. His face had a few bruises on it and the blood that had been dripping from his forehead was starting to dry. He wouldn’t look Sebastian in the eye, which might’ve been a good thing for him. Sebastian was pissed. He grabbed the boy’s shoulders and started reprimanding him too, except a little louder than he did Gus. This was supposed to be a safe place, not another First Sons camp. Come on!

   “Who do you think you are, you little shit!”

   Daniel didn’t flinch or move or speak or do absolutely anything to show any sort of emotion. So, Sebastian spoke a little a softer, but still stern and strong.

   “First you don’t say a single word the entire drive, then you won’t stop shouting that there’s nothing up your butt, and now you’re acting out and starting fights. Answer me.”

   Daniel still didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t speak, but he did do something to show some sort of emotion. He started crying. The poor thing just couldn’t hold those tears back anymore. So, there in the firm grasp of Sebastian’s calloused hands, he cried and cried and cried some more. His tears washed away some on the blood and left little, pink dots on the floor. He snorted and sniffled, but he didn’t let out any noises other than those. He was just so scared and had been for such a long time. Damn, he really was a spitting image of Sebastian. Sebastian sighed.

   “Come here, kid.” He pulled Daniel into his chest and wrapped his arms around him in some awkward hug. Sebastian was used to choking someone out if he was wrapping his arms around them, which made this a challenge. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.” What was he getting himself into? “Just let it out, buddy.” He rubbed the boy’s back as it heaved up and down. Convulsed up and down might’ve been a better description.

   Slowly but surely, people returned to their seats and resumed their meals. The white noise clang and clatter of silverware against stoneware filled the air again. Sebastian pulled Daniel away from his chest as delicately as he could and led him back to his room. He had a pink blotch of blood smeared into his hoodie now. People knew not to pay them a second glance.

   Leading Daniel with the hand he had placed on the nape of his neck, Sebastian turned a corner, then another, and another. The succulence of powdered eggs and percolated coffee abandoned him. His bed was still damp, but just barely. He figured it would do. It would have to. Daniel was on the brink of collapse. It was only now Sebastian noticed the dark rings beneath the boy’s eyes. Had he stayed awake this entire time?

   Sebastian didn’t know what to do. He had never been a father and was only a big brother for a few short years before The Revolution. Did he just leave Daniel in the room and close the door? Surely a preteen could figure out where the bed was. Or, was that asking too much? Did he help the preteen take a shower? No. Hell no. The minutia of that plan was an inappropriate impossibility. Maybe somewhere in the middle of those two ideas? Yeah, that’d work.

   Almost carrying him now, Sebastian stumbled Daniel over to his bed and not-so-delicately flopped him into the same spot he had picked himself out of not twenty minutes ago. Daniel didn’t care though. In fact, I’m not even sure Daniel knew where he was. It almost seemed like he just relaxed and mentally turned off as soon as Sebastian’s hand had found the nape of his neck back in the hallway. The kid groaned and moaned as he started to instinctually wrap and roll himself into the almost-dry blankets. Before he lost Daniel the greedy grasps of sleep, Sebastian slipped the shirt he’d been wearing off him and used it to wipe away whatever wet blood he could still find on the boy’s face. That’s when he saw it. That’s when it shocked him. Sebastian Samuel Smith saw something on Daniel’s body that the shirt had been covering. No, hiding.

   A roadmap of scars stretched and streaked across Daniel’s skin. Sebastian couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out. His fingertips glode over each of the gray patches and followed all the hard lines. He could even tell which ones were what, how they’d been inflicted, and how old they were. He could tell which had been treated and which had been just left to treat themselves. Blades. Bats. Fire. Acids, and even some chemicals. Some went all the back to ten years ago and most had been left to treat themselves. But all of that was just the start of it.

   Lost in the lines of Daniel’s back, Sebastian’s fingertips caught the waistline of the boy’s pants. What the actual fuck was wrong with people? The lines, they didn’t just stop there at Daniel’s waistline. No, they went further. Sebastian picked his hand back up and didn’t look any more. The poor thing. Sebastian chose to do what he figured no one had ever done before for Daniel in a very long time, and that was to pull up every wadded blanket he could reach and tucked that kid in.

   Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours and right on the precipice of time where one hour was about to turn into two, three, four, and five, Sebastian found himself still staring at Daniel. He hadn’t moved but only breathed. Up and down. Up and down. Daniel breathed. I guess Sebastian had done a pretty fan-freaking-tasctic job of tucking him in.

   Sebastian on the other hand had moved, but only once and only to get himself a new hoodie and some much-deserved food and crap coffee. Oh, but the coffee was still so good. Other than that, he had sat in his room and watched Daniel sleep. He had questions for him. Most importantly, he wanted his face to be the first face Daniel saw when he woke up. How sweet.

   Daniel did eventually wake up, but only for a few minutes and only to take a piss. It was almost comical to watch him escape from the entrapment of blankets he found himself in before he shuffled to the bathroom. Sebastian, silently sipping the coffee from his mug and catching the occasional ground in his teeth, kept sitting just as silently in the shadows like he had been for the past uncounted hours. Yes, he had lost track of time. Remember, we talked earlier about how he liked to think himself a patient man. Anyway, with the flush of a toilet, Daniel came shuffling back into the room with his right hand lost somewhere down the front of his pants. He never noticed Sebastian.

   Eww! He didn’t wash his hands? And what was he doing with his hand down his pants? Of course he didn’t wash his hands. He only took a piss. Don’t act like you’ve never used the bathroom without washing your hands, you liar. And what do you think he was doing with his hand down his pants? He was scratching his crotch. Now, you’ve already lied about one thing, don’t lie about another.

   Up and down. Up and down. All over again, Daniel breathed, and Sebastian was lost in that sight. Hopefully not as long this time. It wasn’t going to be as long, but Sebastian would need some more coffee regardless. He stood up and slid his door open. Closing it behind him, he heard a voice he hadn’t expected to hear. He was happy to hear it all the same. It was sweet and it was soft and it was coming at him fast. From where? I don’t know. I think his right?

   “Seb! Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Aren’t you tired?”

   “Trish? Trish!” Sebastian looked left and right for the voice. Yep, it was coming from his right. Well, it had been coming from his right. Now, it was hanging around his neck.

   “I saw what happened in the mess hall and thought I should just leave you two alone.” Trish pulled away from Sebastian, grabbed one of his hands, and caressed her face with it. “I figured you had your hands full.”

   Trish’s voice was like honey to Sebastian. He knew never to interrupt her. If ever he had something to say, he knew it could wait. Trish had been his operator for the past four months and she’d been the only operator to put up with his bullshit for so long. He valued her. He needed her. He knew that he could never have her, though. There was always work to do, and she knew it too.

   “Yeah...” Sebastian lifted his free hand, the one still holding that mug with some sludge sliding around at the bottom of it, and looked into the bloodshot eyes before him. “...Yeah, I was getting some more coffee. Did you just get off a shift?”

   “Ugh, don’t talk to me about my last shift.” She pulled herself away again, all the way this time, and started walking down the hallway. In doing so, she answered the question Sebastian was going to ask next. Yes, she wanted to get some coffee with him. “They’re running recon on the western slopes and they put Private Dingleberry in charge. I swear, that kid will be the death of me.”

   “Yeah, tell me about it.” Sebastian fell in step with her.

   You know, I’d really like to explore and expand on this possible love interest between Sebastian and Trish, because let’s face it, there’s a lot of potential here. A hardened fighter, kind of, with self-destructive tendencies and a sweet intel operator with the voice of an angel? Total heartthrob. Alas, I’m only the narrator and I don’t think that this is that kind of story. After all, they were key members in The Rebellion and there was still work to. Damnit, I hope something happens between them.

F I V E

   A YEAR HAD PASSED since Daniel’s fight in the mess hall. Sebastian and Trish had enjoyed that cup of coffee, and he walked her back to her room. It was the best date they’d ever had. Even more, it was the only date they’d ever had. It was also the only date they were ever going to have. At her door, he had caressed her narrow chin with one of his calloused knuckles and kissed her on the forehead. Say what you want about Sebastian, he was still a gentleman when it came down to it. But like I said, that was a year ago and both of them still had work to do. Sebastian had gone on four more missions and brought back four more people. Trish had been promoted twice and she now operated with a team below her. Daniel was still trying to find his place, but no one bothered or tried rushing the process. They all knew how important he was to Sebastian.

   The Rebellion had grown but so had the new world order that was The First Sons. Their private sector regime was spreading like wild fire and they had found one of The Rebellion’s operating bases. Weeks ago, Commander Johnson had personally seen to leading the defense. However, word had just gotten in that the base had been lost and so had Johnson. Sebastian was in Trish’s office processing what he’d just heard.

   “I have to go after him.” He paced back and forth with his arms crossed and head tilted low.

   “Seb, you know that’s not possible. The Board would never approve a mission like that.” Trish spun around in her chair and took her headset off, letting it rest around her neck.

   “I don’t need their permission.” Sebastian paced a little faster. I can already tell that he’s gonna blow here soon.

   Just as much as Trish fancied Seb something special, something worth slipping between the sheets with and helping remove those pesky catheters, she was also loyal to The Rebellion and loyal to The Board. She kept trying to deter him, but she also knew how persistent he was, how he wouldn’t quit. She knew how he most certainly had the resources to do whatever he wanted.

   “Seb, we both know he’s probably dead already.”

   “No! No, we both know that they’re going to torture him, try to turn him. He’ll never turn, though. He’ll fight for as long as his old ass can hold out!”

   “And you’ll be dead, too.”

   “No, I won’t. I’m strong.”

   “You were strong.”

   “Trish! I can’t just leave him to die!”

   “Why not? He knew what he signed up for when he enlisted.” Her voice started to sound less and less sweet, less and less soft. Still, Sebastian needed it. Still, he savored it. Wait, is this going to be one of those things where she’s actually encouraging him by discouraging him? Let’s find out.

   “Because...” Sebastian knew he was breaking and he knew Trish was the one breaking him. Damnit! How was she doing that? Sebastian threw his hands in the air and shouted. No amount of torture had ever made him shout like this. “...Because he would do the same for me! Because he already has done the same for me. H-how do you think I got here, Trish? That man waltzed right into the room they had me in a cut me free...He-he’s the closest thing I have to a da-” Sebastian was even starting to cry, but Trish wasn’t going to let him. In fact, she’d already flung herself from her chair and was standing face to face with him. Ha, she’s faster than I thought.

   “Then go get him.” Sweet again. Soft again. She had an earpiece in her hand.

   Wiping the tears from the pits of his eyes, Sebastian worked his way through the chaos that was the underground base. Hallway after hallway after hallway again, he pushed himself past the onslaught of people, Rebels going to and coming from where they needed to be. After all, they had just lost a base and one of their most decorated commanders.

   Finally, he found his room in the chaos and slipped in before anyone could stop him. He took a deep breath, tucked the earpiece into his right ear, and let that deep breath out. He needed to grab some gear for this mission. Quickly, he shuffled about in his little room and found what he wanted. Now, he just needed some new clothes to at least keep him somewhat warm on this crisp December day. So, some new clothes he found. It was when he was pulling up a pair of compression pants the length of his legs he realized he wasn’t alone. With his right hand lost somewhere down the front of his tight leggings, he froze and looked up. He never noticed Daniel sitting right there. The boy had been waiting for him. The boy had some questions for him. How sweet?

   “Danny.” Sebastian finished adjusting himself. He spoke as if Daniel didn’t know what was going on, what he was about to go do, but he knew the boy was smarter than that.

   “Where are you going, Ian?”

   Sebastian sighed. He knew he couldn’t win this one. He knew how persistent Daniel was and how he wouldn’t quit; the little shit was more like him than he would’ve like. If Sebastian was able to eventually get what he wanted from Trish, then Daniel was able eventually to get what he wanted from Sebastian, and Sebastian hated this. How could a brat like that come into his life and not answer to him?

   Remember that roadmap of scars? Sebastian remembered it. Shit, he could still feel his fingertips running across those hard lines.

   That night, or was it the morning? Maybe it was the afternoon. Yeah, it was the afternoon, but they were underground. So, who cares? That afternoon, Sebastian had come back from his impromptu date with Trish and stepped into his room. Filled with fancy for the woman we once called ‘intel,’ he had forgotten about the boy sleeping in his bed and stripped down to his skin. Slipping into the blankets, he had only remembered that Daniel was there when the tired boy had rolled over so that they were face to face. Fucking awkward and inappropriate is what that was, and Sebastian knew it.

   He had clambered and climbed to get out as fast as he could. To hell with letting Daniel rest! But Sebastian stopped when Daniel said something. He said something so mottled and mumbled that he almost didn’t catch it, but thankfully he did catch it. He hated that he caught it. In his sleep, Daniel had started to cry.

   “Please, don’t leave me.” He had sniffed and winced.

   It had broken Sebastian’s heart.

   To hell with what was and wasn’t fucking awkward and inappropriate. Sebastian was going to let Daniel rest and perhaps let him do something else that he hadn’t been allowed to do in a very long time, perhaps ever: be held, feel safe. So, that afternoon, Sebastian had slipped one of his sheets between him and Daniel, to put some sort of barrier between them, and pulled the kid in close. Daniel just curled in nice and tight and slept for another eight hours.

   Since then, the two were almost inseparable. As time progressed, people had learned not to pay the kid a second glance. He was with Sebastian after all. He didn’t need to be bothered nor told what to do. Sebastian had never poked nor prodded at Daniel to tell him how he had gotten all those scars. Metaphorical age of somewhere-in-the-sixties aside, he could remember being a kid. He knew Daniel would eventually open up to him when he wanted to, and eventually open up Daniel did.

   Sebastian had just gotten back from his second mission that year and found himself waking on the operating table of his private room, again. Sitting next to him this time had not been Commander Johnson, but Daniel. He had grown up so much in just six months. I guess puberty does that to a person. Anyway, without waiting for Sebastian to completely come to his senses and put back together the pieces of time his brain had lost, Daniel had pointed to, almost touched, an open length of skin about an inch wide that ran from Sebastian’s hip, under the cloth just barely covering his junk, and down his leg.

   “How’d you get that one, Ian?” Daniel put his hand back in his lap. That had also been the first time he called Sebastian ‘Ian.’

   “Oh uhhh...” Sebastian had tried to look at the wound, but figured he knew just which one Daniel was looking at “...which one is that? Yeah, that’s just from a razor. The guy said he was going to skin me alive.” Sebastian had plopped his head back down exhausted from trying to lift it. At least he could lift it this time.

   Sebastian had never known what it was, but something had clicked with Daniel then and there. Then and there, Daniel had told him in gruesome detail how he had gotten each and every one of his scars and who had inflicted them. It had seemed like the poor thing had never caught a break growing up. First his own father, then his brothers, then all the people he had once loved, each and every single person he thought he could trust had eventually turned on him. Daniel had explained that they had all used the same excuse: you need to be stronger, what if they capture you? Bullshit. Had no one ever thought to just protect the boy? He was just a boy! A kid! Fucking Bullshit!

   Daniel had always been okay with the missions that Sebastian had gone on to rescue new people, because he had known that he would always come back. However, here and now in their room with one of The Rebellion’s most decorated commanders captured by The First Sons and Sebastian adjusting himself into a pair of compression pants, Daniel was not okay with it.

S I X

   “YOU KNOW WHERE I’M GOING, DANNY” Just as much as he knew Daniel was persistent, Sebastian knew he himself was just as persistent. It’s almost like that enigma of what happens when an unstoppable force meets and unmovable object. So, he kept getting ready, just kept pulling on warm clothes like had been before.

   “Like hell I know. And you know you can’t go!” Daniel stepped out of the shadows and started to get in Sebastian’s face. Like, he was really getting in his face.

   “Yet, I’m still going.”

   “No, you’re not.”

   “Yes, I am.”

   “No, you’re not!”

   “Yes I am Danny! And there’s not a single fucking thing in heaven or hell you can do to stop me! Now get out of my wa-”

   Daniel threw himself into Sebastian and wrapped his scarred arms around the man’s equally-scarred body. Sebastian had just pulled a jacket on and was about to zip it up when he had to let go and wrap his arms back around Daniel. Together, they stumbled and fell against the wall.

   “Please don’t leave me.” Daniel was trembling with his face buried in Sebastian’s chest.

   “Dan-”

   “Please. This is different. You might not come back this time.” Daniel squeezed Sebastian a little harder.

   “Danny. Danny, I’m always gonna come back.”

   Sebastian knew he was about to break again, but not pop like he had back in Trish’s office. Something different. It was going to happen though. He just didn’t know when. Still holding Daniel in his arms, he slid down the wall and to the floor. He never let go. For precious minutes that Johnson couldn’t afford to lose, the room was filled with Daniel’s sobbing. Whatever Sebastian does next, he just can’t tell Daniel that he can come along.

   “Ian, you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real big broth-”

   Fuck it. That’s it. If Sebastian could’ve thrown his arms in the air he would’ve. He knew exactly what Daniel was about to say and what he knew he was about to say was the straw that broke his back, that broke him again. He pulled Daniel away from him and held his face in his hands.

   “Then come with me.” He wiped the tears from the boy’s face with his thumbs.

   There, in Daniel’s eyes, joy exploded. Before he could even speak, Sebastian spoke again as they stood back up.

   “Go get an earpiece from Trish and meet me outside the east entrance.”

   Daniel dashed out of the room, but Sebastian caught him with one more thing.

   “And Danny! I have one condition: you do what I say, when I say, exactly how I say it. Do you understand me?”

   “I do!” Daniel was so excited.

   “Do you?” Sebastian wanted him to slow down. Needed him to slow down, if he was going to keep him safe.

   “I do, Ian.”

   “Okay. Now go.”

   Sebastian slumped back against the wall and slid down it one more time. Now, he was holding his own face. What had he just done? He could keep the kid safe. He knew he could. But it would be by far the hardest thing he’s ever done. Could he keep Daniel safe? Yes. Maybe? Yes, he could. What did Sebastian just do? Maybe, just maybe if the odds were in his favor and fate threw him a little extra rope this time, he and Daniel could make a good team. I really hope nothing happens to Daniel. After all, he was the closest thing to little brother that Sebastian had ever had.

   Sebastian found Daniel waiting for him exactly where he told him to wait. Wow, he’d grown up so much since times of shouting that there was nothing in his butt. They had both grown up, but the thought of that joke still brought a smirk to Sebastian’s face. Grey snow was falling, and the midday sun was blocked by the endless expanse of caustic clouds that glowed orange. First Sons recon squads would be crawling all over the mountains and hills. He and Daniel would have to be careful, stay undetected until the absolute right moment.

   “Testing. Testing. One, two, three.” Sebastian looked off into the woods and let his eyes and ears, even his nose, scan the immediate area.

   “I hear you loud and clear.” The voice Sebastian expected to hear spoke louder and clearer in his inner ear. It was so sweet and soft. It was so Trish.

   “Do we know where he’s being held?” Sebastian kept scanning.

   Daniel was surprised by the voices in his head and flinched every time one of them spoke. Looks like he swiped a jacket after getting that earpiece from Trish. Sebastian had also grabbed a few last things, things he would never bring with him on a normal mission. Then again, this wasn’t a normal mission, and the nooks and crannies of his body were riddled with little secrets.

   “You’re gonna like this one, Seb.” Trish clicked and clicked on her keyboard.

   “Am I?”

   “What?” Daniel was jamming his finger into the right side of his head.

   Trish kept typing.

   “He’s being held in the same facility you pulled Daniel out of a year ago.”

   “What happened a year ago?” Daniel’s finger was even deeper in his ear. I have faith that he’ll figure this whole comms thing out.

   “Ha, you’re right. I do like that. How long have they had him there?”

   “One hour, forty-three minutes, and fifty-seven seconds.”

   “Thank you. Keep comms quiet until I make contact.”

   “Copy.”

   He looked at Daniel. Damnit, he would have to be careful.

   “They’ve been torturing him for two hours?” Daniel looked back at Sebastian. Snow kept falling between them like nothing was ever wrong with the world.

   “That’s nothing for Johnson. Still, I don’t want to keep him waiting. It’s a long drive.”

   “We’re driving?”

   Fucking shit, Sebastian would have to be careful.

   “We will be.” Sebastian cracked his neck.

   Daniel just kept staring at him with that blank expression you give people when you know you’re not listening to them. Or at least that look you don’t know you’re giving someone when they’re saying something, but that something is not the something you necessarily wanted to hear so you’re unconsciously ignoring them. Take your pick. Sebastian looked up the rock face and said something else to get Daniel’s attention and hopefully hold it.

   “What was my one condition?”

   “What you say, when you say, and how you say it.” Good. He remembered.

   “Just focus on that, and I promise we’ll be back by midnight.”

   Sebastian looked back at Daniel one more time.

   Be careful.

     Sebastian and Daniel needed to find means of transportation and fast. So, they hijacked a First Sons recon squad; just a small group of men with one of those nice SUVs. Now, by hijacked I actually mean that they let themselves get captured. The facility that Johnson was at, the one that they’d escaped from a year ago and were now going back too, was the closest one in the region and would’ve been the obvious choice to take any hostage back to. Heck, it might’ve been the only one. The last thing Sebastian saw before they slipped black bags over his and Daniel’s heads was the tip of a spare key sticking out of one of the cup holders. He couldn’t help but laugh a little. Idiots.

   Fast-forward some more and Sebastian and Daniel escorted through the front door. Yep, it was the same building. Unfortunately, after riding the elevator to the fourth floor, they were separated. Sebastian wanted to fight that fact, but knew he couldn’t. Well, he knew he could, he just knew he shouldn’t. He had absolutely no plan except to do the one thing he knew he was best at: escape, kick some ass, and take zero names whilst doing it. He promised Daniel they’d make it back by midnight. So, he was going to make sure he kept his word.

   “Danny.” Sebastian whispered beneath his breath and hood as he was shoved into the room he could only assume was perfectly white with no windows and only one door. It was. “Danny, don’t antagonize them. That’s my job. I’ll come for you. Then we’ll find Johnson, together.” He was sure to speak when and only when his designated torturer, welcome party if you want to call him that, tied him to the chair he was so used to sitting in. Come to think of it, this welcome party was incredibly good at tying knots. Oh no-

   “I can do that. I trust you, Ian. I’ll keep comms quiet.” See, told you. Daniel picked that comms thing up pretty quick. However, he wouldn’t really be keeping comms quiet for very long. He’d break the silence, but not because he’d choose to. Both of their doors slammed shut effectively isolating each of them.

   Sebastian’s black hood was torn from his head before it had been loosened. Pieces of black fabric latched onto his eyelashes and other pieces fell around him like the snow that had been falling outside. Standing before him with a yellow smile that was equal parts shock and joy and a chubby gut that jiggled over his waistline was a fat man with big boots and a brace on his left knee. Fucking Chuck.

   Sebastian rolled his eyes. Honestly, how could this situation get any worse? At least Chuck had actually cleaned his room this time. That was a bonus, I guess. Well, let’s see what happens?

   “How you doing big boy? I see the company still offers doughnut days. You know, you don’t have to go to all of th-”

   Sebastian found a set of knuckles flying into his cheek, then his other cheek, then his chest and gut again and again, but he felt none of it. Shit, Chuck had even gotten better at throwing punches, but something was already hitting him harder. Daniel, his Danny, was screaming in terror and pain, and the sound of a whip whistling and snapping over and over again made him go numb. Everything that spilt out of his earpiece conglomerated into a cacophony of sounds that was so much more worse than any other torture he had ever endured, even the shower. Sebastian cracked his neck again and simply stared at his lap.

   Wiping the grease from his forehead, Chuck stumbled back and grabbed the closest item on the metal tray with a fist that sent every other item to the clean floor including another whip. Good. Sebastian would need that here shortly. Daniel kept crying.

   “You cunt!” Chuck tossed the butcher knife he had picked up from hand to hand. “Aren’t ya fucking tired! I’ll make ya pay for what you did to me!” He lunged at Sebastian with outrageous ferocity. This was going to be almost too easy.

   Sebastian didn’t even acknowledge the fat man’s little rant, nor did he even look up when he lunged at him. No, he didn’t need to. Time slowed down as everything Sebastian had ever done flashed faster before his eyes than Chuck could ever hope to move. Each and every one of those things had trained him for this precious moment in time.

   Chuck put all his weight, which as we’ve already seen was a lot, behind the knife with a right arm that was locked at the elbow. The happy look on his face was almost sickening, but not as sickening as what was about to happen to him, again. Effortlessly, Sebastian shifted his body just out of the knife’s path and a shrill scratch ripped through the air as the knife sunk into the metal chair. Chuck glanced over at Sebastian, but Sebastian still didn’t look at him. Instead, he only slid his body back over as effortlessly as before and bent that locked elbow the opposite way it was supposed to bend. The sound of that joint breaking brought Sebastian some joy.

   With an arm that flopped back and forth like a chicken’s head that had almost been cut off, Chuck rolled on the floor spewing even more profanities into the air. Sebastian heard nothing though, save the sounds of Daniel. With a deep breath, he jerked his left hand free from its knot. Sure, he dislocated a thumb and lost a length of skin against the burlap rope, but he had the knife now. Now, he could get back to work.

   Snapping his thumb back into place and ignoring the blood that pulsed from his bare wrist with every beat of his raging heart, Sebastian made little work of the rest of his restrains. The sound of the whip whistling and snapping had stopped, but the sound of Daniel whimpering stayed the same. Chuck stood up as fast as his little legs would let him. His effort was only rewarded by coming face to face with the man he was about to let escape for the second time. Unfortunately for him, but not really unfortunately because I’ve come to really dislike Chuck, this was the last time he’d let anyone escape.

   Sebastian wasn’t playing games. He hadn’t the time to jerk around. Looking the man right in his fat-hooded eyes, he slid the blade that had been used to torture and break countless people before this singular moment in time up the bottom of his jaw, through his mouth, and into his sinuses. Chuck choked and gargled and started to fall, but Sebastian wouldn’t let him. He held the man up by the handle of the blade, its perfect edge glinting behind Chuck’s quivering lips, and asked him just one question; the last question he would ever be asked.

   “What’s my name?” Sebastian cracked his neck again.

   He slipped the blade from out of Chuck’s chin and savored every fiber of skin it grabbed along the way. With a cough, Chuck simply collapsed and Sebastian stayed standing there. Closing his eyes, he made first contact with Trish.

   “Trish, scan the waves and find Johnson.”

   “Already on it. And Sebastian?”

   “What?”

   “Dan-”

   “I know.” He picked up the whip.

   If his memory served him correctly, and it usually did, then Sebastian knew that Daniel was in the room to the right of his own and at the very end of the hallway. However, in that hallway stood three guards with their backs to Sebastian. But just beyond them, was Daniel’s room. He quietly clicked the door closed behind him and left behind the sound of Chuck draining away onto his own floor. He made sure the whip was still tied to his hip.

   Sebastian slipped his shoes off, reached into each, and from each pulled out brass knuckles he’d been looking for an excuse to use for a long time. Rolling his shoulders out, he pushed his shoes to the side with a bare foot and started jogging at the first guard with footsteps that nay made a single sound. Actually, the only sound he made in that fast-shortening hallway was the sound of him exhaling with a sharp puff of air as he drove his momentum through his left fist and into the guard’s back.

   The muted sound of four ribs shattering got the other two guards’s attentions, but not before guard number one’s spine snapped and organs rupture from the fury of blows Sebastian threw over and over again into the same spot as before, but with his right fist this time. He had the guard’s arm locked up in one of his own and had no intention of letting him go.

   Guard number two raised his pistol to shoot, but how can you expect an idiot who can’t keep track of spare keys to actually hit his target the first time. Round after round zipped into guard number one’s body, which Sebastian was using as a limp shield right now. Sebastian wasn’t sure who was shooting more: guard number two or guard number three, the one standing in front of Daniel’s door; he was the one that mattered the most, the one that Sebastian couldn’t wait to get his metallic hands on. But first, guard number two.

   Seconds felt like forever, but Sebastian found a lull in the firing and was going to exploit it with everything he could muster. So, with every ounce of strength he could find, he kicked off the wall and threw guard number one’s most-likely-dead-by-now body at guard number two. Everything that was guard number one slammed into him, everything that is expect for his pistol which Sebastian already had pointed at him. Without blinking, without flinching, without missing a beat, he unloaded that pistol save one round into guard number two as the man tried to stand back up. The last round Sebastian saved for guard number three, who had just finished reloading his own pistol.

   Sebastian didn’t care about the blood trickling down to his bare feet. Sure, he’d been shot, but he could worry about that later.

   He adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger one last time. The slide locked back with a quiet plume of smoke rising from the barrel. There, guard number three stood with a shattered pistol in his hands, and Sebastian fell upon him with his knuckles of brass and pinned him to the door, Daniel’s door.

   Daniel.

S E V E N

   THE OLD MAN that Daniel’s torturer was, his welcome party, went straight to securing him to the back wall by his ankles and wrists. Daniel wanted to fight, to push back and retaliate, but Sebastian had told him not too. He agreed with him. He trusted his Ian.

   With a swift yank, the old man, obviously stronger than he looked, tore Daniel’s shirt off. Daniel felt him run his dry, wrinkled fingers across his back. In an almost admiring way, the old man moaned.

   “Looks like you’re used to this kind of thing, little one.” The old man walked to the metal tray that every room had and slipped from it the whip that most welcome parties saved for when they’d run out of ideas. He let out another one of those sickening moans. “Looks like I’m just going to have to work a little harder to make you scream.”

   The old man really was stronger than he looked. With a blank face, a face that said he had done this too many times before, he whistled and snapped the whip through the air a few times. Daniel flinched each of those times because every time was a gamble as to whether or not his skin and the whip would meet. They would eventually meet, however. It’s just that the old man only wanted to start with just the tip slicing into Daniel’s back. So, every time the whip missed, he simply took a half-step closer until he saw the thinnest of red lines run from one armpit to the opposite hip.

   Methodically, the whip orbited the old man and returned to Daniel’s back. With precision that had long secured him his position here at this facility, the old man just barely adjusted the angle of the whip to slash a line on Daniel’s back that was almost parallel to the one before it but still crossed in the middle of his back. Then, well then old man took a full step closer.

   Daniel remembered telling Sebastian he’d keep comms quiet, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling such a consistently climbing pain like this before. At first, he only grunted. Maybe, Sebastian wouldn’t hear the grunts. But then, he started screaming and shouting and crying even, and once he started he couldn’t stop. The next thing he knew, the old man was dragging him from the wall and tying him to the metal chair in the middle of their room.

   The old man neatly coiled the dripping rope back up and ignored the bits of flesh and drops of blood that ran from it onto his hands. Hooking it back onto the tray, he gracefully picked up a pair of pliers that were polished to a pristine shine. He slipped those pliers between the nail of Daniel’s left thumb and that nail’s bed. Then, he started to pull. He didn’t pull hard enough to bring the nail with him, but he certainly pulled hard enough to lull Daniel out of the pain induced stupor he was in.

   “Ah yes, there he is.” The old man pulled a little harder and kept that pressure constant. “My associates and I would like to know why you were in the woods with that friend of yours.” He pulled a little harder. “Yes, we have your friend and he’s most likely dead by now.” He pulled a little harder. “Was he your father?” A little harder. “Your brother?” A little harder. “Oh, he was. wasn’t he?” Harder.

   At this point the fibers that held together the nail of Daniel’s left thumb and that nail’s bed started to tear and pop. Any second now, it would just come off and then the old man would move to the next nail and the next and the next. Then what? Come on Sebastian. Kill those damn guards already!

   Gunshots rang from just outside the door and the old man let go of Daniel’s nail. You could tell it was looser than the others now. Then, for the slightest of seconds, the hallway was silent. That silence was broken by one last gunshot. Then there came a knocking at the door, but it wasn’t the usual knocking of someone wrapping their knuckles against it. No, it sounded soft and muffled with the occasional metal twang tossed in. It stopped.

   Confused, the old man went to the door and opened it as if nothing was wrong, as if the gunshots were some mistake. After all, people weren’t supposed to escape. The room was dead quiet, but the sound of that muffled knocking still echoed in Daniel’s mind as he watched the old man open the door. There, on the other side stood a guard. Damnit, had Daniel gotten his hopes up for a Nothing?

   “What do you want?” The old man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping his hands.

   “Your life.” The guard fell over and the man standing behind him already had a pistol pointing at the old man’s knees with a brass-knuckled fist holding another whip, a clean one, by his side. He’d been shot in the side, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care.

   Daniel sighed a breath of relief and watched with a grin growing on his face as Sebastian made quick work of the old man’s legs.  Sebastian towered over the pathetic piece of shit that had been torturing his Danny and did to him what he had done to Daniel just minutes ago. Sebastian tore into the old man’s body with the whip and only stopped when the old man had ceased to move. He had tried to fight back, but to no avail, because nothing he could ever do or say could justify what he had done to Daniel and protect him from Sebastian’s wrath.

   Sebastian’s wrath, it all went away when he looked down at Daniel. Daniel watched him with hope in his eyes again as he dropped the frayed and bloodied whip onto the old man’s definitely-dead-by-now body, slipped his brass knuckles into one of his pockets, tucked the pistol into the waistline of his lower back, and knelt in front of him. He’d never seen something, someone, move so seamlessly from one opposite to the other. He not only heard Sebastian talking right in front of him, but he heard him in his inner ear as well.

   “I’ve got Danny.” Sebastian freed Daniel’s wrists and ankles from the metal chair. “Where’s Johnson, Trish?”

   “You’re gonna like this too, Seb. He just escaped and his heading to the front door.”

   Daniel lurched out of the chair before Sebastian had the chance to help him up. He was trying to hide the pain from his Ian.

   “Come on. He needs our help, Ian.” He wasn’t going to be able to hide it for long.

   “Wow. Wait! Danny, you can’t. Your back.” Sebastian grabbed Daniel by the arm and stopped him from leaving the room.

   “He needs both of your help, Seb. Every guard in the facility is on him.”

   Sebastian didn’t move. He just held Daniel’s arm. The smell of blood filled the air. Daniel just looked back at him with that face you give someone when you know you’re right, but respect the other person enough to let them figure it out on their own accord. Except, this wasn’t either of their own accords. This was Johnson’s accord and Daniel knew it. He pulled his arm free.

   “Patch me up in the elevator. Johnson needs us.”

   “Seb, move now!” Daniel heard his inner ear shout at Sebastian again.

   Sebastian finally said something.

   “Call us the elevator.”

   “I can do that.” Trish started typing again.

   Daniel might’ve only been thirteen going on fourteen, but he could tell why Sebastian liked Trish so much. Her voice was sweet and soft. Like honey, it poured out of his earpiece and into his head. He led the way to the elevator with a hop and a skip. Maybe he wouldn’t have done so had he known what was waiting for him at the end of that ride. His back was already slowing him down.

E I G H T

   DANCING OVER THE DEAD BODIES that Sebastian had left in the hallway, Daniel’s hop and a skip turned into a stagger and a trip by the time he made it to the elevator that dinged open for him before he could even press the button. That’s right, Trish had called it for them. She really was one of the best operators The Rebellion ever had. Before he knew it, the elevator floor started coming closer and closer, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. Sebastian on the other hand could. Inches from the floor, Daniel stopped falling. Sebastian had caught him and was now cradling him as the elevator dinged closed and started its slow descent.

   The sounds of gunshots, and perhaps even some bones breaking, faded into his senses as Sebastian rolled him over and said something low and subtle; it was something he could tell the man didn’t want to say.

   “This is going to hurt, Danny.” Sebastian tore something plastic open, something that Daniel couldn’t see. “Whatever you do, don’t make a noise.”

   “What’s going to hur-”

   Daniel didn’t make a noise, but he wanted to. Whatever Sebastian poured onto his back sizzled and seared with harsh vapors that saturated the elevator air. It felt like he was being whipped all over again. Like I said, he didn’t make a noise. This time, he had Sebastian holding him. Sebastian dropped the plastic thing. It was a packet of some grey powder. Then, he stood and pulled Daniel up to his feet and slipped out a thin syringe from under his shirt. It was warm and a little wet. Oh, that’s because it had been in his armpit the entire time.

   Starting to relax, Daniel let Sebastian grab his arm and smack the crook of his elbow. Without asking what was even coursing through that needle, he let Sebastian slip it’s shining tip past his skin. Its plunger pressed down with a plastic click. A euphoric rush came over him; he felt it slither up his arm and explode into his chest. Any second, those elevator doors would ding back open and they’d join the small war they had descended into. Gunshots. Explosions. Shouting. Screaming...Death.

   “When this kicks in, join us!” Sebastian tossed the syringe to the ground and pulled his pistol back out.

   “I-I think it has.” Daniel struggled to find his footing. He held his hands out to catch whatever wall found him first.

   “Oh...” The doors dinged open behind Sebastian and let in the torrent of sounds that was the facility’s lobby. Smoke spilt into the elevator and guards could be heard running back and forth in some disorganized frenzy to find the Commander. Somewhere in the haze, Johnson could be heard laughing. “...it hasn’t kicked in, yet.” He slipped his last brass knuckle back on and bolted into the smoke without saying another word.

   “Ian!” Daniel reached for Sebastian but fell to all fours instead.

   In front of him, the small war waged on and on and Daniel hadn’t the slightest clue what was happening, nor what Sebastian had even given him. Rounds kept zipping by and a grenade went off to the right of the elevator. How was he supposed to join them? What was he thinking four floors ago? Then, he wasn’t thinking.

   Another grenade went off and with it time slowed as rumble rained down. All at once, Daniel could see, hear, and smell absolutely everything and everyone. He never thought he’d recognize the scent of someone’s blood, but he did: Sebastian was straight out of the elevator and to the left, by the front door. He wasn’t moving, but he was fighting. Which told Daniel all he needed to know. It told him he had Johnson and that Johnson might be hurt. So, Daniel joined them, because he had work to do.

   He dug his fingertips hard enough into the floor to send seven of his fingernails, not his left thumb’s surprisingly, flicking away. He pressed one of his heels against the back of the elevator hard enough that a dent rippled into it as he sent himself soaring into the smoke.

   Another grenade whose pin had been pulled floated into Daniel’s view. Man, enough adrenaline and almost anything is possible. Keeping his momentum, he grabbed it from the air, stepped once more, spun, and flung it back to whence it came. Back in front of him, he found a guard near-frozen with his pistol pointed in the direction of the front door. With the concussive force of a that grenade igniting behind him and giving him more confidence than he already had, Daniel ducked beneath the guard’s outstretched arms and slipped the pistol from his gloved hand with enough time to turn it around and send a single slug singing into his blank face. Time was starting to speed back up. Smoke was starting to fade. Daniel took note of where he heard the remaining guards as he kept moving.

   Dropping to his knees and sliding to where he knew Sebastian and Johnson were, Daniel let off another round, then another, and another behind him and all around him. Each one quipped to where he knew the other guards to be. All was silent as the smoke seethed into the air vents. Daniel trembled.

   He shook when he looked down to see Johnson draped over in Sebastian’s lap like laundry hung to dry. Sheet. Sebastian rocked the man who once had a perfect, white mustache. Now, that white caterpillar was burnt and ruffled with red splattered from one side to the other. Sebastian kept rocking him.

   Though they were right next to him, Daniel couldn’t hear a single word Johnson coughed to Sebastian. All he saw was one of The Rebellion’s most decorated commander caressing Sebastian’s face with a hand that hadn’t two of its fingers, but bony nubs in their stead. He left a swatch of crimson on Sebastian’s left cheek. Then, Daniel did finally hear something; whatever was in that syringe, the adrenaline, had run its course and finally petered out.

   “Yes sir...I understand sir.” Sebastian squeezed Johnson’s hand one last time.

   Johnson closed his eyes. Daniel watched Sebastian for something, anything.

   Sebastian looked at him. He hadn’t tears nor fears nor worries in his eyes. He had only determination. Daniel recognized that look from the very first time they ever met in the hallway of the very same building they were in right now. Holy shit, what was about to happen? Were they going to fight through the next wave of guards? Were they going to run? What? Daniel’s knees started to buckle.

   “Ian? Ian, I’m-I’m sorry.” He started to collapse. “What are we going to do?”

   “Seb! Daniel! Get out of there! Reinforcements are on their way. Seb...I’m sorry. I know what he meant to you, but we both know you need to move.” Trish joined the silence.

   Sebastian ignored her.

   “Stand up, Daniel. We’re leaving.”

   Daniel? Why’d he call him Daniel? He doesn’t call him Daniel. Not anymore.

   “Okay, what are we doing?” Daniel hopped to his feet and cracked his neck like he had seen Sebastian, his Ian, do so many times before.

   “We,” Sebastian gently got out from underneath Johnson’s body, “aren’t doing anything.” He placed his hand on the nape of Daniel’s neck and led him to the front door. “You are.”

   “Wait. What? No! What are you doing, Ian?” Daniel actually started to fight against Sebastian but dared not break that gentle grip on his neck. “Ian! Please!”

   “What are you doing, Seb!” Trish.

   “What I have to.” Sebastian opened the massive, metal door and pushed Daniel into the twilight snow.

   “Ian! Ple-”

   “They won’t stop! They’ll never stop, Daniel! I am not losing you too!” Sebastian flicked something small and shiny at Daniel, which he instinctively caught. He didn’t look at it though.

   “But Ian! Ian, aren’t you tired!” He clenched the thing in his fist.

   “Tired? Of this?” Sebastian glanced up at the building that he was still standing in. “No. Not too tired for you. Never too tired for you, kiddo.” Sebastian dug his finger into the right side of his head, pulled his earpiece out, and dropped it in the snow.

   Fueled by Trish’s shared cries of pain and heartbreak, Daniel kept fighting and shouting at Sebastian to come with him. He even tried dragging him out of that building, but the man didn’t move. All Daniel saw next was the swarm of guards clad in armor storming the lobby behind Sebastian from every possible hallway and door. All he heard next was the sound of that massive, metal door slamming shut, the sound of gunshots hitting the other side of it.

   Sebastian Samuel Smith was gone.

   “Noooooooo! Ian! Ian! Please don’t leave me!” Daniel pounded and punched at the door and only stopped when the guards stopped shooting. Another grenade. Crying. Whimpering. Sniffling. Daniel slid down to the snow and something started to bleed. It was his hand. He opened it.

   The spare key.

   “Get the fuck out of there, Danny!” Never sweet again. Never to be soft.

N I N E

   THE SOUNDS OF HIS BLOOD drip-dropping from his body and to the ground flooded Daniel with an odd semblance of peace. Save himself, the tray of bloodied and abused tools to his left, and the metal chair he was strapped to, the room was empty. His torturer, the dear friend he had become, was gone and had been gone for quite some time.

   Daniel had been through worse, and would go through worse things still, but this time it was well worth it. This time he was waiting for someone special. He could escape, call for back up even; his dear friend still hadn’t found the earpiece tucked deep within the right side of his head. No...He was waiting.