Jaxton held a capsule of Gem Candy in his hand. They smuggled the guards, Hendricks and his girlfriend, Dara, to a secure facility outside the park. Nobody—at least nobody they could tell—spotted them entering inside. It was impossible to know, however.

Jaxton eyed the colors, primarily Gordon, who wore a near full-metal shell over his entire torso and portions of his legs. The orange tint reminded Jaxton of the vests construction workers wore when they operated on the streets. They were distinctive, vibrant during the day, and light-catching throughout the darkness of night.

But that possibility didn’t seem to bother either the Colors or agent-general Carter. Jaxton found it a nuisance, but so far, nothing had come awry because of it. Still, he worried. He did a lot of that. They sure know how to stand out for a mission so reliant on discretion.

The building they were in was a dentistry under construction, so the building had a lot of empty space inside. The walls and floors were solid concrete, naked without paint. But at least they had the lights installed, hanging from above.

Jaxton whipped a cigarette out of his pocket, and as he breathed it in, settling down. Dara and Hendricks were tied to chairs. Hendricks glared at Jaxton, the look of a victim of betrayal. Jaxton didn’t know what to say or how he could remedy what he’d done to him. So, he did what he usually did.

Nothing but blow smoke.

The guards were tied a little more heavily, depriving them of any comfort whatsoever. Their mouths gagged, arms tied behind their backs to their ankles bending backward. The Colors went far.

Carter discussed with Gordon on how to proceed, but they were far off in a corner, too far away for him or the other colors to listen into.

Aeryn Spring approached Jaxton, standing by his side, leather armor around his waist, and a heavy plate covered his upper chest through to his biceps. He had a more mixed approach to armor than the other Colors, not going too heavy like his uncle or light like his father. He smiled. “How do you feel? We’ve succeeded thanks to you. You’re the sledgehammer that broke down the door to getting Corolla. Must be pretty great, huh?”

“I’m unsure,” Jaxton replied. He felt cold, colder in this room than outside. “Is it wrong to feel… bad for what I’ve done?”

Aeryn lowered a questioning brow. But as he looked to the couple tied to the chairs, he appeared to understand. “I know that face. I’m not as good as my father at reading them, but I believe I know this one. Hendricks liked you. He trusted you. Yet you betrayed him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jaxton said. No need to point out the obvious.

“No, I didn’t mean like that,” Aeryn said. “It hurts you because you hurt him. You feel guilty because it feels like you lied to them. No shame in feeling bad for that.”

“I hate it,” Jaxton said. Aeryn turned to him, tilting his head. “I hate feeling guilty. Being guilty feels like even more betrayal but to you and Gordon. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“That’s normal,” Aeryn said. “Yes, very normal, actually. Every warrior goes through it at least once. Anyone who is ever great is defined most by how they acted under immense stress. When their lives, family, and everything they cherished are on the line, the best warriors hold their heads high, knowing that they can’t lose what is most precious to them. They do everything in their power to protect their values.”

“And who taught you that lesson, your uncle or your father?”

Aeryn grinned. “Neither, that one came from my mother.”

Of course it did. Aeryn was blessed with family, an uncle known as the greatest Color in Soucrest. His father, the Great King, and his mother, a paragon of grace and generosity among the people. Jaxton ultimately had nobody he could call a real family. He never remembered so much as a brother, let alone a father or mother. Gordon came along, and Jaxton clung to him.

When Jaxton had nothing, Gordon gave him everything. A full belly, a bed, and a roof to sleep under, and some sort of meaning behind it all. Gordon helped Jaxton like family. He was the closest thing he had to call his own.

“If you had to choose,” Jaxton said. “Between killing an innocent and disobeying the Colors, which would you pick?”

“I can’t answer a paradox. The Colors are not people, but people that are extensions of our core beliefs. We don’t kill innocents, Jaxton; we serve them. To kill an innocent would be to betray the Colors. The contract I signed wasn’t on paper but my very soul instead. My morals. My Colors.”

They seem oddly religious, Jaxton thought. Here he assumed the colors were simply the best of the best warriors. Perhaps they were something above even that. They were a wing of the government Ranun had set up. Colors were supposed to be on the same side of the moral compass as Ranun; that was how they were founded in the revolution.

Then it clicked.

“If Ranun was to pass away, hypothetically, and a tyrant were to take the crown, what would the Colors do?”

Aeryn smiled while he lowered a brow, surprised by his question. “The Colors will never let our land turn to ruin. We honor preservation and growth from the bottom line up. If a new king brings destruction, they will be the Dull that the Colors seek to fade out ultimately. We protect what makes this country great, what keeps us prospering.

“For the Colors we hail,” Aeryn finished, straightening up, speaking with such pride and diligence, Jaxton found himself admiring the man. He would turn out to be an excellent warrior, much like his father, if not even better. The future looked bright for the Springs.

Jaxton took a moment to consider what was happening around him and why he felt so awful for his contribution. He should have been proud, the same feeling he had when he first went undercover speaking with Hendricks. It wasn’t the moment that frightened him, but the future. The future of Hendricks and Dara.

What bothered Jaxton was that they weren’t evil but caught up in Corolla’s plans. While he knew little about Dara, he knew Hendricks’ backstory, and it was eerily similar to his own. They both accepted the first hand that came to them, giving them direction. Gordon set Jaxton on the right path, but whoever brought Hendricks into the drug market set him on the wrong one.

Did he deserve punishment? Logically, yes, he did. But was it right? Not necessarily. He didn’t deserve what was coming to him. The freedom Hendricks had in his life was rough, yet now he would be confined in a cell, stripped of any freedom at all? No, that shouldn’t be right. That couldn’t be justice. Where was the line between not deserving the circumstances and deserving the punishment?

Aeryn patted Jaxton on the shoulders, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes adjusted, and he saw Gordon step up and behind the chairs, looking intimidating behind their shoulders.

“Now,” Gordon said. “You tell us everything you know.”

Hendricks said nothing.

Dara struggled, but she also kept her mouth shut.

“We don’t have much time,” Gordon said. “Speak, or you will bear the punishment of a hundred thugs.”

Hendricks grimaced, but the only sound that came out of him was a sniff.

Gordon hated being ignored, especially by those he didn’t like. He didn’t see Hendricks like how Jaxton did. In his eyes, he saw a criminal and somebody who needed to feel the full strength of the law.

Hendricks grunted, feeling Gordon’s large hands grip the back of his head hard as he squeezed discomfort out of him. But Hendricks held firm.

Carter observed with a frown, but he didn’t step in. Nobody knew quite what Gordon was doing, even Jaxton.

“Do your ears fail you?” Gordon snapped, tipping the chair backward, holding him off balance, looking straight down with daggers for eyes, the face of a grizzly bear hovering over a washed-up fish. Gordon let go of the chair when Hendricks reinforced his silence, and Hendricks tumbled down. His head hit the hard floor below, but Dara faltered more than he did.

Gordon lifted his boot, pressing it against Hendricks’ upper chest. He threatened to push down, crushing his ribcage. “I’m not playing around here, boy!” His face heated red, and he huffed.

“No, please!” Dara cried.

Gordon lifted his head to her. He almost spoke, but he found a better way of getting Hendricks to talk. He grabbed the hilt of his sword, pulling it out slowly. The metal of his Soulsmithed sword hissed out of its sheath. The blade colored a dark purple with a streak of silver lining along the dulled edge. Gordon extended the sword to Dara’s throat on the chair.

As Hendricks tried to look away, Gordon fixed Hendricks’ head with his boot, facing him up to his girlfriend.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

This was sickening to see. Jaxton had never seen Gordon act this way, but this was him. Where were his Colors?

“No,” Hendricks whispered. “Don’t!” He shouted.

Dara’s eyes were closed as her face scrunched up with terror. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and looked directly to Jaxton, her face pleading.

“Give me the answers I need,” Gordon said. “Or else!”

“No!” Hendricks snapped, wriggling, clawing his way in a feeble attempt to break his bondage.

“Have it your way,” Gordon said. He rewound his sword, preparing to swing, readying to behead the girl right in front of Hendricks.

“STOP THIS!” Jaxton shouted, his voice demanding.

Gordon froze, looking over at Jaxton. Jaxton’s back lined straight and never had he felt so bold, yet so terrified at the same time. Something was wrong with Gordon. This wasn’t the man Jaxton knew him to be.

“This is going too far!” Jaxton said.

Gordon, fuming, looked to his left. Carter stood, and he sighed. “I agree with the boy; this is too far, too soon. You’re acting so rash even though we haven’t even tried any basic interrogation strategies.”

“We need answers now!” Gordon said, pleading with the two of them. “Corolla needs to be found, and now!”

Aeryn looked uncomfortable, as did the other Colors around. They were too new to comprehend Gordon’s actions. They hardly knew if this was against their code or for it. Again with the moral questions of what was right and wrong.

Jaxton walked up. He pulled Hendricks back to a seated position using the chair's seat sticking up. Hendricks looked at him, this time without glare but an expression of gratitude. He might have saved him a horrible, awful sight.

“Were you going to go that far, Gordon?” Jaxton asked, his eyes looking down. He felt a shame asking that, questioning him of all people.

“I… don’t believe I was,” Gordon finally said. From a bear to a cornered cat, Gordon was the one now under the heat of interrogation.

He doesn’t believe he was? Jaxton thought. In his fury of passion, he could have done anything. He could have taken Dara’s life. For what? For romancing a drug dealer?

“Carter,” Jaxton said. The agent general walked up to him, kneeling to look Jaxton in the eyes as he leaned his body slightly forward. “What punishment does the law call for dealers?”

Carter raised a brow. “Gem Candy? It’s one of the more dangerous, unpredictable drugs out there. Most career drug dealers find a year in prison at the least, but most judges would order a maximum of five for distributors of Gem Candy, especially those with ties to a syndicate such as the Green Chefs.”

Hendricks frowned, but not out of shock at the time in prison, but the name Carter said at the end.

“Do you know about the Green Chefs?” Jaxton asked Hendricks.

“Never heard of them,” Hendricks admitted.

Jaxton turned to Carter, who nodded. Mist leaked out of his glasses since they entered the room. “Do you know the name Corolla?”

“Yes, he’s the man in the orange suit and mask, right?” Hendricks seemed to be quite talkative now. Gordon still fumed behind him, but his hand was pressed against his cheek as if he was contemplating what he had done. Hendricks looked to Dara, who nodded. “We met him for the first time a few weeks back. I knew he was important, but I’ve always had agents of his speak to me on his behalf. But since he’s in the city, he’s been conducting the meetings personally.”

He’s still in the city? Fantastic!

“Do you like your job?” Jaxton asked. It was sudden, but he had to reinforce what he believed. Under better circumstances, Hendricks wouldn’t have ever been a drug dealer.

“No,” Hendricks said. “I just like the company that comes with it. It’s how I met Dara, and it’s how I met many of my friends. But the job itself has already killed three of those I was close with. So no, I don’t like what I’m forced to sell.”

“Forced? What happens if you drop out,” Jaxton asked. “If you want to stop selling?”

“I’d have to hide. They’d search for me, I’m sure of it. They already threaten me with physical consequences if I don’t sell enough. I can’t imagine they’d want me living for any other purpose.”

“And do you want out?” Carter asked. He spoke softly. Much like Jaxton, he wanted to appear comforting. Despite how wrathful Gordon previously was, the contrast from that to the soothing nature of Jaxton and Carter likely encouraged Hendricks to cooperate. “If we offered you a way out, would you take it?”

“Prison? I’m sorry, but going there would be the same as dying to me.”

“What if we let you off,” Carter said. “We pardon your every crime if you help us catch Corolla.”

Hendricks perked up, then turned his head to Carter. “Can that be? The both of us?”

Carter looked up to Gordon, maybe seeking permission? But ultimately, he had as much power as he had. Carter smiled. “It’s a deal. A full pardon, but you have to join our team. Work with us. The same goes for your friends. Can you vouch for the guards? They weren’t in the bar where you find your customers.”

“They’re enlisted to protect me on Corolla’s orders, but they should be fine. If they agree to it, I have no reason not to trust them. They seem like fine people themselves.”

Carter nodded. He stood up, walking over to the guards, loosening the ropes around their heads gagging them. They didn’t scream when freed, but they complained about how strict their bondages were.

The guards agreed to cooperate and were also pardoned. They were let off of much heavier sentences, raising weapons to Colors. But that was beside the point. Jaxton and Carter had convinced them to cooperate with them. That was incredible in its own right.

Gordon looked sick, on the verge of vomiting. His hands dug into his hands, almost in a whimper. His face glided up, and he looked onward, past Jaxton. He started walking to the door.

“Hey,” Jaxton said.

Gordon paused, sighing. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going back to my room. Good job tonight, Jaxton. You did well. You did better than I ever could.”

He hurried to the front door, opening and shutting it behind himself as he left the building.

Jaxton worried about Gordon’s state right then. He looked exposed by Jaxton of all people.

Aeryn walked back up to Jaxton. “You’ve done well,” he said, putting a warm hand on Jaxton’s shoulder, “very well.”

“I feel like the scale tipped the other direction, but now I’ve upset Gordon,” Jaxton admitted. But he couldn’t help but wonder if Gordon would have followed through with the blow. Perhaps he could ask Carter, who had access to his heartbeat.

“Gordon is quite passionate,” Aeryn said of his uncle. He smiled. “And you’ve humbled him. You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry. He knows that he was in the wrong. His Colors weren’t the most vibrant today. Forgiving Gordon is the first step in helping him forgive himself for what happened.”

“I should go talk to him,” Jaxton said.

“Soon,” Aeryn said. “You didn’t just break down the door, my friend. You are now the first person to step inside. We would like to hear your opinions on how to proceed with the mission.”

Jaxton nodded. What was this? Respect?

With Dara and Hendricks freed from their bondage, they sat on the chair now with comfort, and their freedom returned. They discussed, along with the guards, how they could get in physical contact with Corolla. They all agreed on one time.

Two nights from now, Hendricks and the guards were supposed to hand over the gold they collected from their transactions, and Corolla would sort out their wages. With proper preparations, Corolla would come to them.

The plan seemed fine as it was. The Colors would watch over them until the operation concluded. Then, they would be free after. Jaxton could part ways from Hendricks on good, friendly terms.

The Colors and Carter decided to stay behind, secure the building for the night. Jaxton, however, walked outside. He took a cigarette out and opted to find Gordon.

Gordon was sitting on a thin armchair in the lamplight in his room, his armor removed, his under armor exposed. Gordon was drenched in sweat as Jaxton entered.

Gordon drank alone in his own world, hardly noticing Jaxton as he stepped up. Sipping small shot-glasses, swallowing scotch, ale, and whatever else was on the desk to his right.

As Jaxton approached, he pulled out the stiff, wooden chair from the desk and sat down a couple of feet away from the Colorsword general.

Gordon glanced at Jaxton, saying nothing. Instead, he picked up another glass, sliding it toward Jaxton, filling him up a glass of scotch. He remembered when Jaxton said he enjoyed the drink when he went undercover.

Jaxton accepted it. Slowly but surely, he drank it all.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Gordon asked. He spoke bitterly like he was in pain.

“Looks so,” Jaxton said. He filled himself some more scotch. Perhaps by drinking with Gordon, it would make him feel less alone. “How long have you been drinking for?”

“Since I returned,” Gordon said. His head bent back, and he nuzzled his neck against the top of his chair. “But, I do this often, so don’t worry about me.”

“You do this often?”

Gordon nodded, but the action made him look sick afterward, bobbing his head up and down.

“I’ve never seen you drink this much.”

“You’re not invited when I do,” Gordon said. He grimaced, but as he took in a breath, his mean face shifted into something more indifferent. “Normally, I just lock the door and drink to all of my feelings. It’s how I keep them contained.”

“The door wasn’t locked tonight,” Jaxton said.

“Well, I gambled. Now I’m talking with you. Tetreo’s Fists! I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps a little bit,” Jaxton smiled. Thankfully, Gordon beamed one back. “But aren’t we all, in many ways?”

Gordon shook his head. “Nobody is more pathetic than me. You know how many medals I have for my ‘bravery?’ And do you know how much of a coward I am? I vent, but only to anything that can take the edge off. I know this, so that’s why I drink alone.”

And now you’re speaking with me?

“I’ll listen. You can tell me anything, right?”

Gordon nodded. “I find myself trapped between who I was and who I want to be. I’ve made many steps, big steps into being as good of a man as my brother, but every time I look up, I see almost no progress at all. I’m still a monster after all these years. Tonight showed it, in front of my very own nephew of all people.”

“Personally, I think you’re overreacting. You say you’re a monster? Yet you made a mistake. I can’t think of anything more human than that.”

Gordon grinned. “Since when did you get wise, boy? You’re growing bold. You grew up right before my eyes.”

Jaxton took a sip of his drink. “I think it’s the scotch, sir.”

Gordon chuckled before taking a final sip of his drink, gently bringing it down to the table, shoving the glass back along with the bottles of liquor, signaling the end of his drinking.

“Any regrets?” Jaxton asked. Perhaps by talking about them, Jaxton could help Gordon get over them.

“I have many. Tonight was a regret; what I threatened to do to find information. But my biggest regret, what eats at me almost every time I hold a sword, has to be when I denied an enemy warrior his final request.

“I was fighting in Gleon, a Dullsword at the time working under Nolan’s regime. He lay bleeding, dying on the battlefield after we’d crushed enemy lines. I stood over him, knowing what I had to do. He knew the same, the bitter reality of war. I lifted my sword above him and aimed for his heart. But he spoke to me. He said he wished to have one final cigarette before he passed. He held his hands together, the Prayer of Hannan, pleading for me to grant him his One. Final. Wish.

“I remember having one in my mouth at the time. I remember having more tucked away in my belt. But I denied him his wish. Instead, I stabbed through his hands and struck him through the heart. I hate myself for that, the refusal of such simple mercy. I felt like a devil that day forward.

“I dream that when I die, I’ll be the kind of man who would share a cigarette with an enemy. Right now, I don’t know if I am.”

He searched for his humanity, torn between who he was in Gleon and the man he became in Soucrest. Gordon was hardly even an adult when he was a Dullsword. He’d killed many, many men in his youth. Despite Jaxton’s upbringing, something was more clear to him now than it had ever been before. For as rough as it was, his childhood didn’t even compare to what Gordon went through growing up.

They sat in silence for a moment. The tension palpable and draining, creating a void of sadness and melancholy. So, Jaxton pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He brought two out, crossing them in his fingers. “You couldn’t share a cigarette with an enemy? I can’t help you with that, I’m afraid. But, how does having a cigarette with a good friend sound?”

Gordon grinned past his sadness, and he looked a little more colorful as he perked up. “Wonderful,” he said.