"Rrrrring!"

"Rrrrrrrrr-"

"Jefferson speaking."

"What the hell is going on out there?"

"General Greene, I can explain-"

"Yeah, you'd better Major! I'm getting phone calls up the whazoo talking about a refugee crisis brewing in one of your military posts! What happened?"

"We evacuated our stranded soldiers from Minerva. One of the squads being evacuated thought it'd be a great idea if they forced close to two hundred civilians and nearly a hundred Revolutionaries with 'em. They disobeyed my command."

"Then make them obey you! We're not running a damned charity out here, the President wants the war to be over, not prolonged!"

"Sir, I assure you that I'm working on it."

"You aren't working on it until you tell all of those civilians to go home! We're fighting a war, not feeding the homeless."

"Sir, we destroyed their homes."

"And that's our problem, why again? It's war, in war things get destroyed. Big deal."

"...I... I understand sir."

"You're lucky the President hasn't been alerted to this yet. So unless you have some other great idea, kick those damn refugees out! And do what you have to do to bring your soldiers back under control. This can never-ever!- happen again! Understood?"

"Aye-Aye, sir."

"Good. Debrief me in twenty-four. Don't screw this up."

"Click!"

----------------------------------------

----------------------------------------

For Hezekiah, everything had blended since Brian had gotten the entire Squad in hot water. No sooner had their Stallion landed, Hezekiah was bombarded on all sides by verbal reprimand, insults, and threats of disciplinary action from all of his commanding officers. He wanted to tell them that it was Brian's fault, but that was cowardly. His failure to enforce squad discipline got them into this mess, to begin with. And besides, Jefferson's boys had already taken Brian and slammed him into a makeshift jail. To quote Jefferson's own words, "It was for his good, knock some sense into him." They must've been torturing him. Hezekiah wondered if it was waterboarding or electric shock. Either way, Brian was getting a punishment all on his own. There was no need for Hezekiah to add on to it.

His anger had subsided. Not gone, but not boiling hot as it once was. A part of him agreed with Brian and told Hezekiah that not only had Brian done the morally right thing but that Hezekiah was being an asshole for helping Jefferson clamp down on him as hard as he did. Jefferson wanted to abandon over a hundred civilians to fend for themselves! Hezekiah should've been defending Brian from Jefferson! Hezekiah ignored those ideas, for an emotion more powerful than guilt-- fear-- had taken over. Fear of Jefferson.

The man was angry. Hezekiah had been taken into his command tent with Jefferson and a few other commanding officers, Captain Newman being one of them. Jefferson yelled at him for four hours straight, giving him the dressing-down of a lifetime. And yet, Hezekiah hadn't spoken a word. He hardly moved. He sat in a chair for four whole hours with a fog that carpeted his mind. Time seemed to go by all too fast. His eyes captured everything moving at quadruple the speed. The dawn faded into the early morning. And the previously purple and red skies had suddenly transformed to a light blue that seeped in through the windows. Sunlight landed on the side of his face, warming him. In that chair he sat there, doing nothing but thinking to himself while Jefferson unleashed his fury. Keywords penetrated the fog occasionally, keeping Hezekiah going along in the conversation. A few of the other officers spoke as well, adding more details on better ways to maintain discipline in his squad and how to control his soldiers. The tactics offered were heavy-handed, downright domineering. Hezekiah respected himself and his soldiers too much to even think about implementing those ideas. Though, he would need to do something about the situation. He had made an enemy that he seriously did not want to make. Jefferson reminded him that Mysterium was his oyster. Hezekiah-- and the rest of Unity-- were just there to carry out his demands. Jefferson could have them killed if he wanted, and nobody in Washington would bat an eye. Jefferson didn't outright say that-- of course-- but that was Hezekiah's understanding.

"Do what I say, or I'll have your sorry little ass erased!" Hezekiah interpreted his words.

"…We hardly have enough food to feed all of our soldiers, and now I have to find a way to distribute the scant supplies we have here with almost two hundred civilians! Hezekiah? Are you even listening?"

Hezekiah maintained his hazy gaze, a thousand-yard stare that bore a hole right at the wall behind Jefferson's head. Though his jaw moved for what must've been the first time in a while, "Yes sir," Hezekiah said with a voice akin to that of a toad's, "I allowed my soldier to make a major mistake… and now you're going to clamp down."

"Damn right, I will! This is your second failure, first the bridges, and now this! I mean, this isn't even a failure, this is a damn catastrophe!" Jefferson exclaimed, "I was told by my overseers that nobody goes home until the war ends. So I can't even send you back to Earth if I wanted to. Luckily, I don't. I'm not letting you get away that easy… you'll give me triple the work until I can send your sorry asses back to Florida! Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Now. Tell me who's responsibility all of this is…" Jefferson asked him with a narrowing stare.

Hezekiah felt the pressure grow on him to respond. Every bone in his body wanted to say that it was one-hundred percent Brian's fault. It felt like the right answer. He didn't want to say anything else that would make Jefferson look at Hezekiah himself as the criminal. But of course… he couldn't, "It's mine, sir. One hundred percent."

"So you are telling me that Private Brian Yale had nothing to do with this at all?"

"I take full responsibility for his mistakes, sir! He's not the one you want! I am! Sir…"

Jefferson stared right down at Hezekiah, seemingly dwarfing him. His whole figure compared to Hezekiah's reminded the soldier of David and Goliath. Though it'd be stupid to call Hezekiah the 'David' in this situation. As it stood right now, he was pathetic. He'd been humiliated in front of the Marine Corps because he couldn't control one of his soldiers, and now he didn't have the guts to defend something he probably agreed with. Hezekiah's fear kept him silent, and he focused on the reason why he was here to begin with. Brian. The anger came back, "Good," Jefferson said, falling back into his chair. He turned to Newman, "You've been quiet, got anything to say?"

Newman had been giving Hezekiah a silent stare for the entire duration of the conference. She- like Hezekiah- hadn't spoken a single word. He wondered if this was having some negative impact on Newman's credibility, his failures surely would've gotten her into trouble with Jefferson too if she wasn't careful. Though Newman still refused to speak, addressing Jefferson's question with a shake of the head. He sighed, "Brooks, get the fuck out of my face."

"Yes sir," Hezekiah felt disgusted by his act of sucking up to Jefferson. It was a survival tactic. He wanted Jefferson to be angry at Brian, not at him. But, Hezekiah also didn't want Jefferson to hurt Brian any more than he already had. The part of him that agreed with Brian wouldn't allow it, but it was overridden by the fear of Jefferson to keep Hezekiah from speaking up. In all honesty, Hezekiah should be angry at Jefferson. The cruel bastard would probably kill babies to gain a "tactical advantage". After the bridge explosions, and the way Jefferson seemed to not care about civilian deaths at all, Hezekiah's anger should be pointed at him. But of course, it wasn't. He didn't have the balls to be angry at Jefferson. He was pathetic, no matter how hard he tried to reason within his mind that it was just momentary. In Brian's time of need, Hezekiah hadn't been there for him.

There was another hidden emotion inside of Hezekiah as well. Not fear, self-pity, or anger. But jealousy. Brian had in a way showed Hezekiah up. And he hated him for that. While Hezekiah was acting like a pathetic suck-up to Jefferson, Brian had done what Hezekiah couldn't. Stand up and defy his illegal order…

He shakily stood up from his seat and was promptly escorted out by another Marine standing guard at the doors. He walked outside with the guard shutting the door behind him. It was cold no longer. The snow had stopped falling. A dry gust blew somewhat warm air against Hezekiah. He rolled up his sleeves. Spring.

A bird whistled somewhere in the distance. His eyes tracked it down to a blackbird perched above him that took off to fly somewhere else. His eyes followed it as it flew away. He wanted to be that bird. Able to fly far away. Fly home. Away from this mess. But, there was no running away from this one. Some snow lingered on the ground though it mostly melted away on the cobblestone pavement of the FOB that was 181. Marines were running all around him trying to deal with the refugees camped all around the base, accompanied by the sound of a crowd. A baby was crying somewhere in the midst of it all. He turned his radio on, unsure of what exactly to expect…

[Command] "…All medical staff please report to Sergeant Graves position at the---"

He switched it off. The only thing he was interested in now was tracking Brian down. He didn't know what he wanted to say. He just wanted to see him. He had no idea if he was going there to yell at him, or if he was going to cheer him up, or if he was going just to see if he was even still alive. Hezekiah just needed to see him.

As he walked towards what he figured was the jail, Marines stared at him briefly before peeling away. Sometimes turning to their comrades and whispering guilty sentences, "Hey! Why don't you put a goddamn muzzle on your private!" One Marine, about equal in rank, yelled at him, "We can't take all of these people in! They're the fucking enemy!"

Hezekiah wanted to tell him that they were just civilians. But again, Hezekiah feared what would happen if he did. He kept his head low, burrowing his chin right into his coat. Eyes on the ground. Some Marines offered words of encouragement. Not everybody thought that it was a mistake to bring the refugees on board. Hezekiah heard Marines whisper that Unity were heroes for what happened in the City Hall. It wasn't one or two soldiers either, but there were a lot. Too bad. Hezekiah certainly didn't feel like one.

He kept walking until he approached the jail, where POWs and disobedient Marines were kept. Two soldiers guarded the entrance, and they stopped him just before he could enter, "ID please," the lead MP asked.

Hezekiah reached into a pocket and showed him his card. The MP read it over, before looking him straight in the eyes, "You're Staff Sergeant Brooks? I bet you want to see Private Yale?"

Hezekiah nodded, "I do," he meekly said.

The MP chuffed, "Tell him that we aren't a refugee camp, we hardly have enough food to-"

"I know, I'm sorry about him," Hezekiah admitted, holding his hand out to request his card back. Refusing to make eye contact with the MPs. He had shriveled up, sunken into himself, a shell of a man named Hezekiah Brooks. This entire event had been nothing short of humiliating for him. A nightmare even.

"Orders from Jefferson are that you can take him if you want. Just call," Said the other MP as he received his Identification back into his hands. He was allowed indoors where a series of locked doors led into empty rooms with little more than a cot and a window inside. They pointed to the one where Brian was being kept, unlocking the door for him. There he saw Brian…

He was lying on his back on the cot. Staring up at the ceiling. All of his gear, his helmet, vest, pack, even his coat, and boots, were missing. Nowhere to be seen in the room. He was just lying there, taking in shaky breaths as he stared upwards. Ignoring the man who had just walked in, "He's scared," whispered an MP, "Serves the shithead right."

Hezekiah was still standing there when the door closed, leaving only the two squadmates inside. Neither of the two said anything. Hezekiah was busy trying to figure out what he was going to do now. He could only guess as to what was going on inside of Brian's mind.

The silence, however, was broken when Brian opened his mouth, "What do you want?" Brian said. His voice wavering just below an angry yell, but low enough to remain somewhat respectful. The voice sounded pained and hoarse. Though the squeaky youngness of the 19-year-old was still ever noticeable. Brian was still staring up at the wooden ceiling, refusing to meet Hezekiah's gaze, "Here to just… y'know… yell at me? Right? Tell me that I'm the bad guy for trying to do the right thing? Or whatever?"

"Brian…" Hezekiah mumbled his name. It caused Brian to divert his eyes from whatever was so interesting on the ceiling, and locked them right into Hezekiah's own, "This isn't about you doing the right or the wrong thing…"

Brian sighed and rolled over, exposing his back to Hezekiah, perhaps knowing that any attempt to have him understand his perspective was gone, "This is about you following orders, Brian," Hezekiah told him, "We had explicit instruction… leave the civilians behind. We'll try and help them another time, another way. Those were my orders to you. By you violating them and performing that stunt, you've disrespected me and my title!"

"What was I supposed to do? The right thing? Or fucking protocol?" Brian snapped at him.

"You do your damn job!" Hezekiah yelled at him, "You are a Marine! Marines follow orders, they don't just go off and do whatever they want! That is how Marines die!"

"Just tell me, when do I get kicked out?" Brian dismissed the argument.

"Nobody's going home," Hezekiah told him, "Not this time."

Brian looked at him again, "What?" Now Hezekiah had Brian's full attention. His eyes were wide as he looked at his Staff Sergeant, fear was a new emotion in them. And it finally clicked in Hezekiah's mind as to why exactly he had done this.

"Wait… wait… let me get this straight," Hezekiah raised his hands to the sides of his head, before lowering them and pointing two accusatory fingers at Brian, "This whole stunt was an attempt so that you could go home?"

"No! No! It wasn't! But I'll admit it's an attractive deal!" Brian argued, shaking his head profusely, "I didn't do this just to go home! I wanted to help the people, I-I couldn't betray my moral compass! Hasn't that been strained enough lately? Right, man?"

"I am not your 'man', or your 'dude', or your 'bro'," Hezekiah angrily laid into him, "I am your goddamn Staff Sergeant! I don’t even care what your reasoning is right now! You clearly don't understand the gravity of the situation, so let me clue you in!" Hezekiah took a heavy step forward which caused Brian to retreat against the wall in fear, "We are stuck on another planet-- another dimension-- isolated from Human society with no possible way to get back home of our own volition! The only person who decides that is Jefferson and the men in DC! Jefferson holds all of the power here in this world! If we disobey him, he can have us all FUCKING ERASED! AND NOBODY WOULD GIVE A SHIT! Nobody outside of the military even knows that we are here!"

Brian silently stared at Hezekiah, eyes full of fear, mouth slightly agape. Hezekiah thought that he might've been going a bit too hard on him, though his mind was caught up in the moment, "My advice to you?" Hezekiah told him, "Shut up, and do as you are instructed! That is the only way that ANY OF US, are going home in one living piece! You do what I say, not what your 'compass' tells you. If my order was to leave them behind, you leave them behind. If the order was to take the refugees with us, we take them with us. You follow my orders like it's the goddamn ten commandments! Do you understand?"

"I cant! I can't!" Brian yelled back. Hezekiah squinted at the Private, his face growing hot with anger.

"After… all of this, you have the nerve… the absolute nerve to yell at me? Your goddamn Staff Sergeant?" Hezekiah was letting his own emotions control his speech. Every part of his body wanted to remind Brian of who he was. A Private. Nothing more nothing less, "Jefferson holds me in his room for damn near five fucking hours as my punishment for the mistake that you made, and you have the goddamn nerve to yell at me? After what I've done?!" Hezekiah took another angry step backward causing the kid to recoil in fear.

"I couldn't let those people die! Hezekiah… it was an illegal order-"

"No! You're just a damn idiot! Worthless, you never think! All you do is whine, and complain! I sit there and get berated for your mistakes, and you still can't shut up and take the advice of someone trying to help you for your own good! A damn embarrassment, and a shame to my squad!" Hezekiah didn't limit his voice. The anger had already taken over. A pure rage was embedded in his voice that Hezekiah had no intention of unleashing, especially not on Brian. "I was the one who mustered this squad together when we were lost in the River Valley! I was the one who rallied us together to go and alleviate Ithaca! I was the one who led this squad through thick and thin, through wet and dry, through heaven and hell, and this is how you repay me? By violating my direct orders, yelling at me- your sergeant- when I take the blame that should've been directed at YOU!"

Brian was speechless. He was curled into a ball against the wall, trying his hardest to make himself look small. He only looked up at Hezekiah with sad eyes reminiscent that Hezekiah linked back to those ads they ran of abused puppies locked in cages. His anger was subsiding, making way for perhaps the worst of all emotions he had felt so far.

Guilt.

When Brian did speak, it was shaky and he fumbled over his words. His voice was tiny, like the squeak of a mouse almost, a ghastly whisper, "Y-you told us…. You said we would be heroes…"

Hezekiah raised an eyebrow as he looked down at Brian. Confused as to what he was talking about, "Back when we were stranded in the forest… our whole squad… you gave this entire speech about how we would go and fight to the last man to try and rescue the people in Ithaca! You told me that we would be heroes! You lied!"

It dawned on Hezekiah that Brian had been acting off of what Hezekiah had told him this whole time, "All this time, I've spent trying to do my fucking best to be a hero like you! Because you motivated us! You told us that we could do good! And when I finally do, EVERYBODY HATES ME FOR IT! You lied to me, man!"

"Brian-"

"No! No! You lied! You lied! Asshole! You lied! You said that if we got back home, it'd be…" Brian fought through sniffling and a hoarse voice as he tried to keep up his yell, "It'd be on the condition that we did a good job out here! You told us that, just so we could get up, and do what you wanted… You don't even believe in that anymore, it was nothing but another lie! And you can't even stand up to Jefferson for me! Not for the people! Not for anyone! As long as you get what you want! You don't care!"

"Brian please-"

"It was nothing but another lie! You self-absorbed, manipulating, lying, piece of shit! I thought we were here to do good! You only told us that to get us to do what you want… Fuck you, man… fuck you-"

"BRIAN!"

"…"

"That's enough," Hezekiah sighed. He realized what his anger made him do. He was becoming the villain in his squad. He didn't mean to scare Brian. He didn't want Brian to be terrified of him like Hezekiah was of Jefferson. He reasoned that this was his way of trying to help Brian. Brian needed to fear what would happen if he disobeyed commands from higher up since they were isolated from anyone who cared enough to punish Jefferson for his actions. But even then, he couldn't help but feel like a complete asshole. And though Brian's accusations were wildly dramatic, they were understandable from his perspective. He held out a hand to Brian, saying nothing. The kid hesitated at first, but soon he relinquished his hand. Putting it into his, "C'mon. Let's get you out of here," Hezekiah whispered to him.

They faced more abuse outside in the form of snarky comments and guilty stares. Most of them were directed at Brian, though Hezekiah got his fair share too. Hezekiah wrapped an arm around Brian, holding him close, "Ignore them, they don't know what happened…" Hezekiah said to him. Maybe trying to make Brian less fearful of him? Maybe trying to genuinely comfort him? Maybe because he felt sorry for the kid? Perhaps all three.

Hezekiah returned to the makeshift barracks and found the one Unity had been assigned. Built in an inflatable tent outside of the ex-Iscariot Garrison, the Buffalo JLTV was parked right in front of the tent. Two unfamiliar soldiers guarded the tent, "Are you Staff Sergeant Brooks?" Hezekiah nodded, "Orders from command, we had to hold your squad in custody until you came to relieve them…"

That came as a surprise to Hezekiah. Why had Unity been targeted as a whole for the mistakes of Hezekiah and Brian? And why was Jefferson being so draconian about this? It was bad enough that Brian had been locked in jail for what admittedly was a stupid move, even if motivated by a good moral compass. But Unity locked down as a whole? Hezekiah was allowed inside of the tent by the guards to which he saw Unity, Flint, Lafayette, and Quinn inside. Handcuffed. The tent was a mess of cots on the ground and a lamp that had been switched off. Seems that Unity hadn't been here for longer than a few moments when Jefferson's men shackled them.

"He's finally here," Quinn stated upon seeing Hezekiah walk in. Saying that the overall mood inside of the tent was bad would be like saying the sun was hot. The tension was palpable inside.

"Hezekiah's here now! So make with the handcuffs, bitch!" Flint told the two Marines who hesitantly walked up and began the process of unlocking their hands. The two marines freed the three soldiers and promptly left leaving Unity alone. Hezekiah had so many questions that it took him a while to even begin his first. Brian took a seat on his cot, leaving Hezekiah standing there.

After Brian took a seat, the squad was eerily quiet. Odd for Unity. Grim expressions hung on the faces of all the men, "Everybody alright?" Hezekiah asked them all. He heard Flint mumble something indiscernible under his breath. Everybody else remained silent, "Great…", Hezekiah sighed to himself as he took a seat on his cot. Now his entire squad hated him.

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Hezekiah pondered the situation more later that day. It was him along with the rest of Unity with Brian missing, apparently being sent someplace as a punishment for insubordination, though Hezekiah was neither made aware of what the punishment was or where it would take place.

They were with the rest of the Marine Corps outside of the stone walls of 181. Large tents had been deployed all inside of the forest along the southern-facing slopes of the hill. Inside were hundreds of Iscariots. Some Human, Some Demi-Human, some Elf, some Reptillians. By far the most bizarre of the sentient creatures there were the insects as they came in all shapes in sizes. Not always bipedal like all the rest of the sentient beings around them. And they crept the rest of the Marine Corps out just as normal insects did. Though, they were few in number.

Unity worked hard delivering food, water, and medicinal supplies to where they needed to be. Sometimes they escorted children with missing parents around the camp or reunited them with grateful parents. Sometimes, they were in charge of providing basic first aid to those with large open wounds that bled and reeked of the smell of pus and diseased flesh. Hezekiah had been tasked with such assistance to survivors of the explosions, their wounds had become infected. He could see green and yellow flesh on human skin that blistered and oozed putrid fluid. Hezekiah reached deep inside of himself to muster all the strength he could to not vomit on sight. The Demi-Humans were by far the worst, as the blood and pus would often mix with their fur and create a matted mess that reeked and was near impossible to clean without having to cut off large patches of fur. He wondered how the medics did this regularly, hell, he wondered how the Revolutionaries did it.

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Though the smiles he got, the "Thank you's" and the hugs he had received mostly from the elderly, almost made it all worth it. These people, though they were unwanted by Ithacan Leadership, were alive because of the actions of Brian and by extension, his squad. Brian did this. Brian saved them all. Hezekiah wasn't going to take credit for that. Brian could take the punishment, he should also take the reward and satisfaction that came from being with these people who were nothing but grateful. Too bad he wasn't here, he probably would've loved doing this. Perhaps not the whole medical work that needed to be done, but Brian would've loved to be here with the people. Hezekiah sighed again as his thoughts returned to his Private. He made up his mind. Brian was in the right. Hezekiah was in the wrong. He rightfully disobeyed an illegal order, and in the process, saving hundreds. Hezekiah had to tell him that.

So why did Hezekiah's ego make it so difficult? He should've concluded a long time ago. He should've been right there with Brian. But his ego, the very thought that his subordinates would just violate his order, prevented Hezekiah from doing the right thing. When he got a moment alone to breathe, shooting out a wad of spit from his mouth to stave off an instinctual urge to throw up bile, he gritted his teeth. He would now allow himself to repeat his mistake. Not this time…

Unity had taken over the operation of applying first aid to anyone who needed it. Plenty of wounds were visible and there just weren't enough hands to go around. Hezekiah had taken to apply alcohol to the wound, wiping the dirt and blood away with a new cloth, and taping a bandage right over the now at least decently tended wound. There were so many wounds that Hezekiah had fallen into a robot-like system in which he did nothing but apply alcohol, wipe the dirt, and tape bandages. Apply, wipe, tape. Apply, wipe, tape. Over and over and over again until the emotion had been sucked out of the work and the only thing that remained was cleaning as much as possible. He hadn't counted but got through at least forty people in that manner before he stopped. He and Unity came together now to begin moving the ones who couldn't move. Mostly those with broken or fractured bones who desperately needed a cast or medical attention to walking again.

Their most daunting challenge was a large grizzly bear demi-human. Though normal for a demi-human of its species, to the much weaker and smaller humans, they might as well have been pushing Sisyphus' boulder. The four men each took a point, with Quinn and Lafayette grabbing the arms under the shoulders, while Hezekiah and Flint took the waist, "Alright, guys… we can do this! One…!" Hezekiah prepared the squad to lift as they struggled to keep the bear in their grasp. He weighed at least six hundred pounds and stood over eight feet in height, "Two…!"

"C'mon!" Flint grunted as he tried his best to help lift next to Hezekiah.

"Three!"

The four men stood up fully, carrying the bear up and over the shoulders. They struggled, and they all produced a near-herculean effort in trying to lift the bear, but they succeeded. Able to place the bear down onto a wheeled stretcher that could support its weight nearby. When the bear was happy in the bed, the squad let out a victory cheer. Patting themselves on the back and clapping their hands. Though the celebration was short-lived.

"Staff Sergeant sir? I'd like to speak to you," Said Lafayette unexpectedly after the cheer wore off. He took a double-take around to ensure that nobody in Unity was listening, "Alone, please?"

Hezekiah saw that Lafayette's face was rather serious. Even grim. It must've been important, "Sure," Hezekiah said.

It was that which led them outside the tent a few yards away in the deeper reaches of the forest. Every so often a helicopter would circle overhead with the scant resources that Ithaca could muster over to 181. Everywhere Hezekiah went, the consequences of Unity's actions surrounded him. Hezekiah followed Lafayette deeper into the forest, their boots crunching on the cold hard ground. The trees around them stood tall and proud, bare of any leaves or greenery save for the mosses, mushrooms, and hardy ferns that managed to tough it out in the brutal winter cold. Lafayette leaned up against a large Oak seemingly satisfied with the distance between them and the rest of Unity.

"Something wrong, Dupont?" Hezekiah asked the Corporal.

Lafayette leaned back, letting his helmet-covered head fall back against the bark of the tree, "It's Brian-"

"Before you start, I'm working on getting him back under control," Hezekiah interrupted, but he soon raised an eyebrow when Lafayette dismissively shook his head.

"No. You misunderstand. He isn't the problem here," Lafayette told him, mustering himself up to look Hezekiah right in the eye. He sighed, "You've gotta go easier on Brian."

"What?" Hezekiah asked, "Why? Brian broke the rules, he got punished. Rightfully so!"

"Brian is being punished for saving people, Sergeant," Lafayette said to him, "Listen, you can be mad all you want about Brian disobeying the chain of command. But everybody who was there knows that what Brian did was the right thing to do!"

Hezekiah threw his hands up in the air, exhausted of the discussion already, "You know what? Fine! The kid's a goddamn hero! Alright? You want me to hand him a cape and give him a 2-hour documentary on how he's such a good guy? Huh?" Hezekiah snapped at Lafayette. There was something hidden inside of Hezekiah that knew that he was no longer angry at Brian… but he was angry at something inside himself. Something that the man just couldn't put a finger on, "He disrespected my rule! I'm supposed to just roll over and let him wipe his boots on my uniform because of that? He committed a major overstep in responsibility!"

"I'm angry that you are being complacent in it!"

Hezekiah gave Lafayette a look of total bewilderment, one eyebrow raised and the same eye half-lidded in an absolutely stunned expression, "Repeat your-fucking-self Corporal Dupont."

Lafayette stiffened up but maintained direct eye contact. He gulped before opening his mouth with a defiant-yet knowingly respectful stare that burned itself into Hezekiah's mind. This was something that Lafayette would not take back under any circumstances. He had meant what he said, "I said, you are being complacent in it! When Jefferson gave the order to abandon hundreds of people inside of the City Hall, you did nothing to protest that!"

"Neither did you, Lafayette."

"I'm not the Staff Sergeant! And besides, I was wrong then too," Lafayette argued, "You're right. I should've said something then! We all should've! Brian had the fucking balls to not just say something, but do something about it! The right thing!"

"Jefferson gave us a direct order, that is FINAL, Lafayette!" Hezekiah was on the border of screaming at Lafayette, but the Corporal stood his ground.

"If Jefferson gave you a gun and told you to kill fifteen innocent civilians, would you do it?"

Hezekiah looked as if he was about to respond, but nothing was said. Nothing could be said. Going off of basic ethics and the premise of the question, he'd say of course not. Going off of what his track record said about him, however, Hezekiah would have to say yes. Saying no would make him just as bad as Jefferson was. Saying yes would make him a liar. The bridges came back to Hezekiah. Knowing that it was his fault now for not only giving the order to make the detonation occur but also for almost allowing himself to repeat the situation. Jefferson could fool him once by denying Unity any information on the civilians inside of Minerva at the time the bridges were set to blow. But Hezekiah was the one who made the conscious decision that Jefferson was right in abandoning civilians to a possible brutal death at the hands of the Imperial Army, knowing full-well the ramifications of what was going to happen.

Hezekiah's heart shattered when he realized what everyone in Unity save for himself had. Hezekiah had a trail of blood following him. Following Orders wasn't going to let him off the hook. It couldn't. Hezekiah looked down at the floor, and he saw red footprints in the leftovers of the snow that snaked right up to his own feet. Lafayette was right. Brian was right. Hezekiah was wrong. It was simple as that.

"We swore an oath to defend the good folks back home. The American family living peaceful and content lives because of our sacrifices. That might've been true for a while back on Earth, but I want to ask you a question…" Lafayette began when Hezekiah hadn't responded for a while. Hezekiah looked back up to him, and on Lafayette's face was not a look of superiority haven won in an argument against a superior, as Hezekiah would expect given the situation, but a look of massive sympathy, "Who are we defending out here?"

Nothing from Hezekiah, it cued Lafayette to speak his mind. Freely, knowing that Hezekiah would listen, "I want you to think about this, and I mean, seriously consider what I'm saying out here! If the Marine Corps intended to do good out here, then why the hell are we being punished for saving people? It's because they can't ship as much food out to Ithaca as they could before. The reason being, this entire operation is a secret. More or less, a lie."

Lafayette took a deep breath in before getting to the point, "A lie created so that the suits up in Congress and the Oval Office can play god out here in Mysterium with no consequence! So long as we, their soldiers, are complacent! If we were doing good out here, we would've never made this a secret. I mean this is a whole new world! Animal-human hybrids, Elves, magic, do you know how much research we could get from this place? The benefits to humanity back on Earth? We could solve the energy crisis on Earth, we could find the cure for the world's deadliest diseases! But instead, we are here doing the same thing we did in Afghanistan and Iraq. Screwing things up…We aren't defending anyone out here, we were the ones who came through the portal first!"

Hezekiah looked down at the floor briefly when Lafayette took a moment to breathe. Iraq was where his father died. Stuck in the battleground of Fallujah. He died fighting for a cause that was forged in a twisted tale of lies and half-truths. It scared Hezekiah to think for a moment that he very well could end up with the same fate as his father before him. Fighting for a cause he didn't believe in, against people who did nothing. Growing up, the Iraq war had been one of the topics that Hezekiah's family never talked about. It was despicable. It was something everyone had tried to forget happened. Hardly anyone knew the reasons as to why the war started, even fewer wished to talk about it long enough to find the truth.

"Now the Imperials are bad too, fuck the Iscariots. And I mean that! They have slaves, I heard they are currently genociding people- I mean, they are bad!" Lafayette continued with his point, "But we aren't all that great either. I mean, we didn't even give half the population the right to vote until one hundred years ago. And fifty years before that, we had slaves too."

Hezekiah nodded his head, silently agreeing with Lafayette, "Hez. You're a good dude. But trust me when I say that Jefferson can go burn in hell. Fuck what Jefferson says. He needs us! They all do. So if they tell us to do something that we just cannot ever… we tell them that we have a duty to disobey any illegal orders! Because they are our biggest enemy. Not the Imperials. Try as they might, the Imperials can't lift a finger to our military might. Have you seen the casualty counts in Minerva, ten thousand of their men dead compared to what? Less than a hundred and fifty of our own? The only reason that their Empire hasn't been destroyed is that America hasn't declared war yet. And we're only two battles in," Lafayette said with confidence.

"Yeah, that's true." Hezekiah finally said.

"It's like rooting for an arctic fisherman that's clubbing a baby seal to death. Or even worse," Hezekiah raised an eyebrow as to what Lafayette thought could've been worse than that, "Being a Yankees Fan," he said with a joke to lighten the mood a little bit.

Hezekiah frowned, "I'm a Yankees fan."

"…"

"…"

"What's wrong with you?"

"I deserve that."

----------------------------------------

"You like yours on the rocks, right?" Quinn asked Hezekiah a few short hours later. They were outside. The weather was still pleasant. A bit on the cold and dry side, but the sun had warmed everything enough to even it out. They were sitting under a tent propped up over a lunch table in the middle of 181. The Buffalo was parked right next to it, though Unity as a squad was missing, off doing some other task. For now, it was just Quinn and Hezekiah.

"Yes, I'd like that," Hezekiah told him, rubbing his eyes clear of the looming tiredness that caused them to glide shut each time. It had been too long of a day. He hadn't slept since he was in Minerva, and the day's events were still haunting him. Quinn winked at him and emptied Hezekiah's flask of water. He scooped up some ice from a box and poured in brown liquid. Whiskey. The two clanged their flasks against the other's and raised them to their lips. It felt warm to Hezekiah, and when he had taken his share he sat it back down and hunched over with a grizzled sigh, "Where'd you get the whiskey from?"

"I know you won't snitch but I still can't say. All I know is that some guy managed to smuggle it in from Miami."

"Goddamn hero, he is."

"Long day?" Quinn asked him, with a mischievous grin.

Hezekiah shrugged away the playful comment, "Just another day in the office."

"One hell of an office!"

The two sat together. Even though Jefferson had wanted Unity to give him more work than ever before, they still had at least today to unwind. Hezekiah took in the forest scent that indicated the coming of spring, his nose loving the smell of the pinecones and scented grass that surrounded the garrison, "What year is it? Back on Earth anyway?" Hezekiah asked Quinn, his eyes still closed.

"Still 2020," Quinn checked his phone, "December."

"Nearly Christmas?"

"Less than a week."

"Uh-huh," Hezekiah hummed, "You spoke to your family?"

Quinn nodded, "I write letters. I don't have the guts to call them. Still trying to work out how I'm going to handle it if Vic asks where I am."

"Just say you're in Afghanistan," Hezekiah told him. Feeling that it wasn't that big of a deal to keep the lie going, at least for now. But all he got was a disappointing shake of the head from Quinn.

"I can't. It ain't right," Quinn muttered, "Victoria's pregnant. I can't lie to her."

"Ever find out what gender the baby is?" Hezekiah asked him, not wishing to dwell on a heavy topic as of now.

Quinn unleashed a wide smile, though his eyes still looked distant, "Yeah… I'm gonna have a baby boy!"

"That's great! Did you come up with a name yet?"

"Yeah, Vic wanted to name him Christian. But she took my suggestion on naming him, Vittorio."

"Vittorio? Sounds like his mother's name," Hezekiah noted. Briefly imagining himself as a father coming up with names for his own kids at some point in the very distant future.

"That's the point. But more importantly, it's Italian," Quinn took another swipe at the canteen, "We are Sicilian, after all. Your family from anyplace exotic?"

Hezekiah shook his head as he leaned forward crossing his arms over the table, "Nope. Philadelphia is about as exotic as it gets."

"Oh, Go Eagles!"

"Heh, better than rooting for the Giants, I guess. But I'm not really a football guy."

"Mhm," Quinn murmured. He took a look up at the sky. The weather was still pleasant. Cold. But pleasant, "After this… I'm gonna retire. Definitely," He said, "I like the thrill and the adventure. But I'm gonna settle down with Vic. Maybe I'll get back home before Vittorio is born?"

"Sounds like a plan," Hezekiah told him. He nudged his elbow playfully, "Hey, I'll call the rest of Unity and we'll throw you guys a party somewhere, eh?"

Quinn smiled, "I will definitely take you up on that offer. We deserve it. All of us… What about you? You got any plans for when this shit all blows over?"

Hezekiah's jovial smile slowly shifted into one of neutrality. He hadn't given it much thought. He knew he made a mistake joining the Marines, but flat-out retiring at the rank he was seemed silly when there wasn't much waiting for him back home. He'd leave to go back home, visit his Mom, maybe go to the homes of a few friends he left behind, before going back out on deployment. Perhaps again to Mysterium? Now that Hezekiah was allowed this moment of introspection, he found Mysterium oddly charming. When they weren't fighting for their lives against all odds, or trying to survive under what was essentially a dictatorship run by Jefferson and his boys, or doing acts unspeakable against their will, Hezekiah found an odd pleasure in his experience. It was something primal. A deep-rooted desire to break all chains, and to explore, to see what there was to see. To discover. Mysterium fulfilled that on a glove.

And if Hezekiah was being truly honest with himself, even the rough times were enjoyable. The struggle, the triumph, the feeling of comradery. It made everything so worthwhile. Hezekiah, as much as he hated how every day seemed to become yet another struggle for survival until the next, it made every day so much sweeter. Every minute that passed in which he was still alive and fighting with Unity, was a minute worth celebrating, "Hezekiah?" Quinn asked, seeing Hezekiah linger on the subject for just a bit too long without an answer.

Hezekiah looked up at him, and shook his head free of his imaginative fog, "Oh, yeah. You know… if given the chance… I think I might come back."

Quinn raised an eyebrow, surprised. Hezekiah took that as a cue to explain further, "It's something about… being in a new world and all. It's like a… charm? Yeah, a charm."

Quinn shrugged, "I could see the appeal. It's like… being in a movie. Or one of those TV show adventures. The good ones, I mean. Every episode is another exciting adventure, and sometimes I can't help but wish I was the guy on the screen. Even if their life is miserable, y'know?"

Hezekiah looked at Quinn with an almost confused look. Though it was less confused and more impressed. Quinn managed to sum up exactly how Hezekiah felt, "Yeah… that's right! That's-- that's exactly how I feel about all of this!" Hezekiah told him, "There's something about it that's… fun?"

"Don't be afraid to say it. I can see where you're coming from. But, it ain't for me," Quinn sighed, "Yep. After this, I'm going home. For good."

"I respect that," Hezekiah told him. His mind still lingered on the thought. Quinn poured the duo another drink of whiskey before Hezekiah called it off, "I'm done. Can't be caught drunk… they'd kill me," said the man as he finished off what was in his canteen.

"Right," Quinn said, pouring himself another glass. His third. It caught Hezekiah's eye. Quinn wasn't a small guy, he could probably handle three. But it was still odd that he'd be drinking so much, they could be issued orders at a moment's notice. Especially with the refugee crisis brewing just outside of the walls of the Garrison. Though, Hezekiah didn't say anything. He only gave Sergeant Vulcano a cautionary look with a raised eyebrow, but Quinn didn't seem to care.

"Something on your mind, Sergeant?" Hezekiah asked the man.

Quinn shrugged with a sigh as he knocked back the third drink, "Nothing in particular. We're just bonding, right? Friend-to-friend, eh?"

"Sure."

"Hey, you ever tell me the story of how you got into all of this mess, to begin with?" Quinn asked him once he set his canteen back down.

"What do you mean, Q?" Hezekiah asked him.

"I mean… what's the story of your life? Y'know?"

Hezekiah leaned forward whilst giving a slight shrug of one shoulder, "Nothing crazy. I was born in Philadelphia and hated it. My dad was a Marine. He died in Fallujah when I was 9, but that clearly didn't stop me."

"Hmpf," Quinn chortled to himself.

"My mom moved us to Albany afterward, I still have no clue why. When I graduated High School, I needed a way to pay for college and the Marines were right there. Been here since I was… nineteen, I believe? What about you?"

"Yeah I joined a little later in my life," Quinn motioned as if he was going to pour yet another drink, but a swift motion from Hezekiah stopped his hand from reaching any further.

"Woah, Q. Slow down, big guy! I know I keep things relaxed in Unity, but I can't have you out here being drunk-"

"Oh please, I don't get drunk!" Quinn argued, brushing off his comments like they were an annoying fly. But Hezekiah insisted.

"I'm serious, Q. This is your last one! Alright? If one of Jefferson's boys catch you acting tipsy, it's gonna be my ass! Again! Alright?"

"Jefferson," Quinn mumbled the name while drinking his final whiskey. He planted it down, and Hezekiah took the canteen from him. Hezekiah studied Quinn's face carefully. The sergeant had grown a look of spite, even anger. Something had been on his mind after all, "Let me tell you a story, about why I don't give a fuck what Jefferson and his… cronies, say. Hm?" Quinn started with a finger pointed to the sky.

Hezekiah leaned forward, figuring that Quinn was going to tell him that Jefferson had done something personally to Quinn. Fury burned in Hezekiah… if that monster laid a finger on any of his soldiers… but it died down when Quinn told him, "I used to be a Cop back in Brooklyn."

Hezekiah raised an eyebrow, he had never known, "Joined the NYPD when I was 18. Fresh outta high school. I wanted to do a duty to defend and serve and- yadda yadda yadda, for the good folks of my community. Bushwick. So I joined the NYPD, passed the academy, did alla that. I met Vic at a concert somewhere in Flushing a year later, and she's been the love of my life ever since. I was 19 when I went on my first on-duty patrol," Quinn's scowl grew deeper, "I had a girlfriend who thought I was a hero. My family thought I was god's gift to humanity because I'm out there sacrificing my life to protect and serve. You know what happened on that first patrol?"

Quinn looked directly at Hezekiah. He had captured Hezekiah's full attention, the Staff Sergeant needed to hear this, "They assigned me my Partner, and his name… well let's just call him Cole. So Cole and I are cruising around East New York, it's run down, it's got crime, some local gang-bangers, all of that. What do we do? We stop people walking up and down the street with their hoods up and headphones in their ears. A man got shot in the very same neighborhood, a crime we could've prevented. But instead, we were in our fucking patrol cars stopping people and asking for fucking IDs. Once we stopped a woman in her 40s who had grocery bags in her hands, and I swear that Cole said 'she was looking suspicious'. So I ask Cole later that day, what the hell was going through his mind. And he told me… I'll never forget this…" Quinn leaned forward across the table. Staring deep into Hezekiah's eyes. The man had clearly passed the line of drunkenness two drinks ago. But Hezekiah knew that everything he was saying was authentic.

"He told me… 'Vulcano. Doesn't matter if they're suspect or not, we stop 'em, we search 'em. We write it up in the report later on in the day and get a big fat, wet paycheck for doing our good duty!' That hurt, but I'm a dumb kid. I didn't see the red flags," Quinn sighed, "I saw it when we were chasing some guy who had no working brake lights. He looked a lot like you. And that's important."

Hezekiah tilted his head, "Looked like me? As in… my face?"

"As in your skin color," Quinn spilled the beans, "Cole was a racist sack-a-shit. He was from somewhere in Suffolk County, Long Island. Didn't even live in the City. Anyways…" Quinn continued with the story, "We follow a Chevy Impala with no brake lights. Normal stuff. This was an actual misdemeanor. I figure we just pull him over, give him a ticket, or at worse, issue a citation. Nothing huge, two-hundred bucks at the most. The man driving it rolled down his driver's window. I talk to him, tell him about the brake light. He tells me he knows, his mechanic was just down the block… I swear to god the guy was innocent," Quinn's eyes sparkled with tears forming. He licked his lips as his breathing became erratic. His chest heaved.

"It's okay Quinn, you don't have to tell me what happened-"

"No, no, no. I gotta. Only Unity would understand," His voice cracked, "Cole tells me to search his car. I ask him, 'why? We don't have nothing on him'. And we didn't. The guy was as clean as Mister Rogers. But Cole, he tells me that he smells weed…heh… you believe that?"

"Of course not."

"Yeah, that's always the excuse. They smell weed, they don't. They just use that to get in the car and poke flashlights around. He says that to the guy, and of course he's confused. I see his hands on the steering wheel, and whenever he moved his palms he left behind a sweat stain so big you could see the shine on it. His hands were sweaty, his eyes were big, he was nervous… I volunteer to search. I pop open the dashboard compartments, glove box, look under the seat, by the pedals, back seat, in the chairs, everywhere. I tell the guy that it must've been a mistake, and I'm about to piss off to go about my day. But Cole says, 'you missed something'."

Quinn gritted his teeth and his chest rose with one big heave, "He opens the glove box… I swear to God! I looked in there three Goddamn times! Not a damn thing! Motherfucker lied! For a paycheck, he lied! A cop! Badge-wearing cop lied, ruined a man's life, just to get a big fat fucking paycheck!" Quinn's words came out like bullets. His jaw had clenched up and he was practically spitting his words through his lips, "Man was in handcuffs, crying his goddamn eyes out. He had never seen it in his life. Guy probably never even touched a cigarette. Felony possession of Marijuana, resisting police arrest, obstruction of an investigation, Cole was writing up everything he could think of on the guy. Piece of shit."

"That's when you quit?" Hezekiah asked.

Quinn shrugged, "That's when I should've quit. Instead, my dumb, 19-year-old ass decided to transfer to another squad. I should've left, right then. But I didn't have any sense. Luckily, I got a good dude as my lead. They called him February. I don't why, but it was what it was. He had a loving wife, three kids who got top grades in school. Their oldest was about to start in college, their youngest in pre-school. They weren't rich, they lived paycheck to paycheck, but it didn't matter. They were such good people..." Quinn again trailed off as he remembered the family. Hezekiah continued to listen to the Sergeant as he told his story about the past. Both because it was an interesting tale, and also because it seemed as if it was something that had been bothering Quinn for a very long time. Something he hadn't been able to get off of his chest. And who could blame him?

"So anyway, me and February spend the better part of two years working together. We busted actual criminals, we handled disputes perfectly, we kept the streets clean! The NYPD even sent us out on those community relations meetings and we'd talk to the school kids over at Bed-Stuy about the work that we did. We were good cops! One day, we get a call. A huge emergency, some guy got stabbed at a local deli! Our squad cars pull up, and we see that none other than Cole was already there. He had the suspect in 'cuffs. Paramedics were called on the scene, and there wasn't a damn thing they could do for the poor guy who'd been stabbed. The killer had about fifty thousand in his bag. Some wannabe gang-banger, or whatever. That's not important," Quinn wiped his forehead clean with a flick of the wrist before continuing, "When Cole, and his new slimeball partner Shawn, brought the money into evidence, it was only counted at 2 and a half grand. February was the first to pick up, and he was gonna report it. Tampering with evidence… Cops don't fear much. But one thing they are scared shitless of, is prison. Because when they're in there, it's only them, and their mistakes."

Hezekiah motioned for Quinn to keep going, "He gets a call while I'm off-duty. It was a suspicious man over in some warehouse, East New York again. He goes off to respond to the call, and when he gets there, he radio's back that there are four armed men inside of that warehouse, waiting for him. And they were going to kill him. He's crying over the radio, asking for backup. Telling them that he can't take 'em all alone. But it never came," The tears came down Quinn's cheek. He was shaking, he had a hard time getting through his words, on the brink of full-on bawling. Hezekiah felt bad for him, unsure of what to do to possibly comfort him, "Cole and Shawn set him up. And nobody said anything… not even me. I swear to-"

"Quinn!" Hezekiah yells out as Quinn leans to the side about to collapse onto the ground. He manages to rush out of his seat and he grabs Quinn before he falls, holding the man in a tight embrace as he completely loses his mind. The dams in his eyes broke, with tears flowing out onto Hezekiah's uniform. Hezekiah just stands there, embracing him. Telling him that it was 'alright', 'it wasn't your fault', 'there was nothing you could do'.

"I COULD HEZEKIAH! I DIDN'T SAY A GODDAMN THING!" Quinn screamed, pushing himself off of Hezekiah, "I didn't say anything! I never told anyone! You're the first! I-I didn't know what to do. So I quit the next week. And I told Vic that we had to move to New Jersey…" Quinn took a shaky breath in, trying to regain control of himself. He closed his eyes, and let it out, continuing with the story, "We did. Moved to Hoboken. One night, I was looking out of our Condo. And I saw a police car cruising up and down the street in front of our home. It'd go to the end of the street, do a u-turn, and then come back around. I look closer and I see blue markings. NYPD. NYPD in Jersey? I ask myself, 'what the hell are they looking for'? "

"They were looking for you… they wanted to scare you."

Quinn nodded his head profusely as he looked up at Hezekiah, "Damn right… I should've stopped playing 'hero' then. There are no heroes. The good ones die young. The corrupt ones live long enough to get a trust fund for their kids… hell, they'll run for politics. But the good always die young," Quinn sighed, "I joined the Marines because I needed a new job and I still wanted to play the hero. So I signed up for Fireman, Paramedic training, and had my eyes on the military. Applied for the army, navy, marines, national guard, airforce, everything I could think of. Fire Department never got back to me, it takes years since there are so many people trying to join. Paramedics called me back, said they wanted me on the job for training. But for some reason, I decided to join the Marine Corps… I should've just been a paramedic. Basically… the reason I'm telling you this…"

Quinn wiped off some sweat from his forehead, brushing away any tears that stained his cheeks. He sharply inhaled, "I see every bit of Cole inside of Major Jefferson. Nothing but evil. I'm done working with crooks."

"Quinn, I get that. I really do." Hezekiah told him, "But the point still stands that we gotta job to do out here. You can't just violate what he says."

"Unfortunately, so."

"Look, Q. You're a good guy, you have a wife and soon-to-be a child. I'm gonna get you back home. You can put all of this bullshit behind you. But… I still need you as a soldier. Let me handle the Jefferson stuff, but for now... business as usual..."

Silence.

A few moments passed by of nothing by the sound of vehicles driving in the distance. Hezekiah's radio was blowing up about the refugee situation, but nobody ever called for Unity. A few birds sang in the trees, a tune Hezekiah was unfamiliar with but enjoyed nonetheless. With the bright sun shining down and the warm air, it felt peaceful. The two sat there, saying nothing until Quinn decided to break the silence, "Brian though… he woulda done it to 'em."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the kid's got balls. He woulda spoke up. He woulda done what I couldn't. The kid isn't scared of nothin'. He'd rather die than let himself be the villain."

Again, the topic shifted back to Brian. Hezekiah had grown tired of talking about him, though, the circumstances had deemed it necessary. Corporal Brian Yale was at the center of everyone's attention because of what he did. It was hard to ignore him, especially when his consequences were sitting just outside the walls of 181, "I already told Lafayette that I'd apologize to him, y'know."

"You were just looking out for your own ass, I can't blame you," Quinn told him, "I would've done the same thing. But you know that the kid looks up to you right?"

Hezekiah raised an eyebrow when he said that, unsure if it was just drunk Quinn speaking or if it was a genuine truth, "What?"

"Brian. He looks up to you like a hero of sorts. Like a role model. If I were you, I'd go over to him. Smooth things out. Let him know that he has you fighting in his corner," Quinn's words seemed genuine enough, which was almost heartbreaking for Hezekiah. He had no idea that Brian looked up to him. Before, it used to be the other way around. Hezekiah had admired Brian for his courage and bravery in the face of danger, and even now...

He had to find him.