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EVERYONE STAY CALM, STAY F**KING CALM!!1 fsioy chapter 20 is HERE.

hoooly shit. i finally finished it after. *checks watch* three months.. thank you guys so much for sticking with me bc . this one is the LONGEST chapter ive ever written. its a DOOZY. nothing i say can prepare you for it.. so i'll simply say what i have told my two closest friends (aka my little lab rats / snippet readers ) chapter 20 is going to make everything WORSE. this one is a bit confusing at parts, but whenever its surrounded by "..." its a flash forward to the 'current day' (aka ch 19). this covers things in chapters 11-15. get ready for plot twist galore. please don't throw rocks at my head. im sensitive.

warnings: i think it would be a better question to ask what ISNT a warning.. anyway, they include: death, mentions of previous death, black mail, manipulation, physical violence, the commander himself, swearing. umm i think that's all ? idk ill update this later if i find any more.

word count: 19,141

other chapters: chapter masterlist

ao3 link: here

Kent looked at Willy, a small guilty look crossing his features. His expression soured as the lies burned his throat. He desperately needed a distraction, so he thought back to their earlier conversation.

“You know,” He started, turning to face Willy as his line once again bobbed against the pristine water. Kent pursed his lips together and took a deep breath. He took a moment to gather his thoughts (all while trying to swallow his guilt) and then added, “You said you were going to explain what happened.”

“Ah,” Willy spoke, nodding his head solemnly. He looked at Kent, his expression unreadable. A small sigh slipped past his lips. Willy debated with himself: would Kent be able to handle the truth of Willy’s departure? The older man wasn’t quite sure. Though, a small voice in the back of his mind urged him to tell it. He spoke once more, almost reluctant, “Do ya really want to hear that story? I’m sure it’s not that excitin’.. I mean, it happened fifteen years ago, lad.”

“Willy, I have thought about that day more times than I care to admit,” Kent replied, giving a small nod to signal he did want to hear the story. He looked at the man, his expression forming into one of slight anger. Kent continued, “You practically disappeared off the face of the Earth. I was worried about you. I reached out so, so many times and.. Nothing. Not even a letter.”

“Eh?” Willy asked, confusion washing over his face. He added, “Ye sent me letters?”

Kent scoffed and crossed his arms, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration. He spoke once more, “You left when I needed you most, Willy.” Kent paused briefly, watching the older man as he gave an acknowledging nod. He continued, “I think I deserve to know why.”

“Well, I guess yer right about that..” Willy admitted, though he was still reeling with confusion. As far as he knew, no attempt had been made to contact him. He just assumed Kent was angry at him for leaving. But, hearing Kent mention it, and noting the frustration in his voice, it made Willy reconsider.

“Alright,” He started, nodding in Kent’s direction. He spoke once again, “Let me tell ya the story. It all began the day yer friend died.”

“My friend..?” Kent asked. His brows knit together as he tried to determine who Willy was talking about. His face contorted in concentration as he tried to remember - a name, a face, something, anything. However, in the crevices of his mind, all he found was a faint, blurry blob of memories that all seemed to mesh together.

“Aye, the first one.”

“Right..”

“..Daniel? Sawyer? Ring any bells to ye?”

“Um,” Kent started, though his face contorted once again. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Though, his mind remained foggy and indecipherable. That name was important to him - it had to be - but he couldn’t remember who he was or what he looked like. It caused a small, uncertain pang in Kent’s chest. Eventually, he replied “Sure.”

Willy looked at him, and raised a small eyebrow - worried that Kent seemed unsure of himself. He shook his head, momentarily brushing it off and continuing his story.

JULY 19XX | XX YEARS AGO | THE DAY OF DANNY’S DEATH

After Willy had comforted Kent, he was called into a nearby meeting room. Apparently, the commander had a special job for him. He entered the room tentatively and approached the desk.

Inside the room, he saw a sleek wooden desk - a deep, rich mahogany coloring. On it lay several papers - all scattered and disorganized from the early morning preparations. Willy had attended that meeting, too. There, he learned that the Gotoro soldiers seemed to be getting bolder - some even going far enough to take over a nearby town. Willy knew that, whatever this meeting held, it wouldn’t be good news.

He continued looking around the room - allowing himself a moment to gather his thoughts as he looked around the interior. It was quite nice and contrasted drastically to the rest of the camp. It made Willy wonder where the commander got the funds for his office and why the commander was so obsessed with making it look neat. Willy was sure that there wasn’t a single spec of dust that would dream of settling on anything in this pristine room. It made him feel uneasy.

He picked up one of the papers from the desk. His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he needed to understand why this room felt so.. Different. While Willy was inspecting the room, the sound of footsteps seemed to grow louder. Willy gulped, his posture instantly going rigid. His grip tightened on the paper and he slipped it behind his back. He looked up and gave an acknowledging nod to whoever entered.

Luckily, it wasn’t the commander himself - just an assistant who came to notify Willy that the commander would be with him in a moment, as he was currently in a meeting, which was taking place down the hall. A small sigh of relief slipped past Willy’s lips and he felt himself relax after the petite woman turned and exited the room.

He retrieved the paper from behind his back and brought it close to him. Willy’s eyes scanned the page and he felt his heart sink. His mouth laid agape as he realized what he was reading.

It was an early draft of a partially coded letter - written in the commander's neat scrawl. As Willy read the small excerpt, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It read “Early phases of Plan A are in motion. The three boys selected will prove useful, though it appears a small hiccup has interrupted our progress. Namely, one of the boys has been reported dead. Apparently, he startled one of our surveymen, who had gotten too close to the camp and alerted one of the other soldiers. Proceed to the next phase, though exercise caution-” The letter stops there. A horrified gasp left Willy’s lips and the paper slipped from his hands.

As this happened, a shadow approached before looming over him. It was followed by a snarky, monotone voice that sent a chill down Willy’s spine.

“Well, what do we have here?” The shadow spoke, disdain filling his voice. The commander approached Willy, his lips forming into a small, disapproving line. He stopped once he reached Willy’s right side and shook his head. The man - the commander, Willy knew who he was - spoke once more, “I expected better, William.”

“You know how I feel about snooping,” He purred, his voice gravelly and harsh. A faint snarl slipped past his lips. The commander looked Willy up at down, his eyes appearing bored - as if he expected this. Disappointment filled the man’s voice as he spoke once more. “Though, I suppose I should’ve expected this from your kind.”

“Eh?” Willy asked, taken aback by the commander’s comment. His eyebrows furrowed and he spoke once more, “What do ya mean by ‘yer kind’?”

“Oh, you know,” The commander began. He propped himself against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked down at Willy, his expression almost a perfect sneer. “A bumpkin from the valley who wants nothing more than to prove himself. I’ve seen it all before.”

“What are ye implyin’?” Willy protested, anger rising in his voice.

“Don’t you understand, Colonel?,” The commander spoke. He looked at Willy as if he were some insect - as if he couldn’t possibly fathom what he was trying to say. He slowed his speech as he continued, intending to insult Willy further, “Those who feel the need to prove themselves die the fastest.”

The commander watched as Willy’s jaw tightened. He saw the briefest flash of rage light up behind Willy’s eyes and continued, “Well, not the fastest, I suppose. That goes to the ones with the biggest hearts. The ones plagued by mercy and a need to save everyone.”

“Like that Neilson idiot. It sickened me how caring he was. He wanted to save everyone and got far too close to a certain… truth, let’s say.” The commander spoke, intently watching Willy’s reaction - as if the things he was saying were intended to push his buttons. To see how far he’d let himself be dragged before he retaliated.

“What..?” Willy spoke, clenching his jaw tighter.

“You know, William, about that friend you had? He was too stupid to realize what he was uncovering. He didn’t know the importance of what he had witnessed.” He paused briefly, turning to look at Willy as a small, wicked smirk formed on his lips. The commander continued, “Christopher Neilson had to be stopped - for the safety of everyone and everything I’ve worked for. I’m sure you understand.”

“What in the blue blazes are ye talkin’ about?” Willy asked, nearly erupting with anger. His fist clenched at his side and he felt his nails digging crescents into his palm.

Willy’s eyes narrowed as he listened to the commander’s words. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had Chris’ death - which had been ruled as an unfortunate accident - been less of an accident and more…premeditated? No.. the commander wouldn’t do somethin’ like that. Willy thought to himself. He looked up at the man beside him, suspicion washing over him at the man’s nonchalance. Would he?

Willy gulped and decided to press further, “What.. what did you mean ‘had to be stopped’?” He watched the commander intently, his stomach souring as the man simply replied with a small, almost giddy smirk. Seeing that expression, Willy felt something inside him stir: an emotion. One he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. Willy felt anger. He lunged forward, gripping the commander’s collar in his hands and lifting him off the ground. Willy gritted his teeth, a mixture of disbelief and fear coating his features. He spoke, “What did ye do? What the hell did ya do?!”

“Only what I had to, Colonel,” The commander replied, the same smirk still plastered across his face. He glanced down at Willy’s hands and scoffed. “Now, now, William. No need for violence. We can discuss this civilly, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, like how ya talked with Chris?” Willy responded, his grip tightening and his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. His upper lip contorted in a small snarl, his mustache following suit. He looked at the commander and shook his head before adding, “I don’t want yer brand of ‘civility’. ‘Cause - next thing I know - I’ll end up at the bottom of a lake.”

“Oh no,” The commander reassured. He looked at Willy, his face stoic and unreadable as ever, before speaking once more, “You’re far too valuable - at this point, anyway. I need you for this to work properly. I didn’t need him. Sergeant Neilson was expendable - replaceable, even. You are not. The boys.. They trust you.”

Willy spoke once more, his voice rising, “Leave Chrissy’s name out of yer damn mouth. Ye didn’t know a single thing about him.” His eyes shone and it was almost as if small fires had ignited behind his pupils. His face turned red-hot and Willy clenched his fists around the rough fabric of the commander’s collar. He wanted nothing more to let his anger take over him - to get some miserable form of justice, to repay the harm done to him, but Willy knew he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t that type of man, after all. Not to mention it wouldn’t “fix” anything - Chris would still be gone. Against his better judgment, Willy felt his grip loosen and he dropped the commander back onto his heels.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The commander chirped, reaching a hand up to smooth out his now crumbled uniform. He returned to his previous position - casually leaning himself against the edge of his desk. He clasped his hands over his lap and looked at Willy expectantly. He spoke once more, “I’m glad you’re starting to see this my way.”

“Ah..” Willy spoke, intending to protest. However, something the commander said had piqued his curiosity. The commander had mentioned “the boys” - while that was quite mysterious, Willy couldn’t shake a feeling about it’s importance. He could use this to pry for more information. Maybe he’d even get a deeper insight into the letter fragment he’d found earlier.

Willy pursed his lips together, swallowing his pride, and continued, “Right. Of course I see it your way, Commander. Say.. ye mentioned that ye ‘need me’ but never mentioned for what.. I want to help ya. Anything for the Commander, right?”

The lies and flattery felt vile on Willy’s lips, but he needed to do this. He needed to find out what was happening. The commander moved to respond - momentarily closing his eyes in thought. While he did this, Willy extended his hand and grabbed a small tape recorder that was placed precariously on the edge of the commander’s desk. He pressed the record button - letting out an expectant cough to cover the small “click”. Once it was clear it was recording, Willy placed the recorder behind his back.

“Right,” The commander replied with a small sigh. He opened his eyes and looked at Willy - though if he suspected something was amiss, the commander didn’t let on. He continued, “I suppose I should tell you. At least what your part will be, in any case..”

Willy remained silent, though he gave a confirmatory node towards the commander. He didn’t want his voice tainting the recording. It was risky enough as it was, but any mention of him or the sound of his voice would only incriminate himself.

“So, initially, a group of three boys were selected for.. Ah.. a larger project. I won’t say much about that right now, but you appear to be the closest person to these boys. I have been monitoring them and their progress for months now - ever since the third boy arrived, you see.”

“Initially, I had planned for all three of them to be moved to the next phase, but it seems I forgot to account for incompetence. Needless to say, one of them went and got himself killed mere hours ago. While it would’ve worked better with all three, I have decided to press on regardless. Your task, however, is to bring the remaining two to the next stage.” The commander explained, his voice sounding quite bored - as if he had discussed this many times over.

He spoke once more, “You will be responsible for the transportation of these two boys: Kent Neilson and Vincent Leegland. They’re in your unit, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble.” Willy’s eyes widened at the names, though he continued to remain silent. He raised an eyebrow. The commander responded with a small, dismissive wave and continued, “Don’t concern yourself with why. Your task is simply this: bring these two boys into active combat - tomorrow. I have… something quite special planned, I will admit.”

Willy gulped, a small wave of panic and disbelief crashing over him. He fought to keep himself composed - smoothing over his expression to prevent the commander from seeing his distrust. What on Yoba’s green Earth is he thinkin’? Willy wondered to himself. Those boys.. They aren’t ready for that - especially not after what happened today. He turned back towards the commander and gave an obedient nod.

“Oh, and before I forget,” The commander started once more, turning to Willy and his expression full of disgust - as if whatever he was about to say next caused him displeasure. He continued, “Make sure they stay separated. I can’t stand all this.. ‘comradery’. But, if they ask for a reason - you will tell them it’s because their emotions may cause them to be…unstable. Is that understood?”

Ye have got to be kiddin’ me, Willy thought to himself. Separate them? Oh Sweet Yoba, he’s askin’ fer trouble. Willy gritted his teeth - though his outward expression still remained relatively calm. Against his better judgment, he nodded once more.

The commander pushed himself into a standing position. He then approached the door and began exiting. However, he turned around midway and called out to Willy.

“One more thing,” He began. The commander pointed towards a map on the wall. He continued, “Take that with you when you leave. You’ll need it to get where you’re headed. That area.. It’s Gotoro central. Wouldn’t want anyone to get lost over there, hm? I know that… neither of those boys have the best sense of direction - especially not my son.”

Willy watched as the commander then turned and left his office. After ensuring he was actually gone, Willy carefully slipped the tape recorder from his back and hit the “stop” button. He then slipped it into his pocket. Just in time, too, as his emotions seemed to catch up with him. He felt faint. Willy propped himself against the desk and allowed his practiced poise to drop completely.

He didn’t know much about the commander - especially not his personal life - but learning that, apparently, he had a son was quite jarring. Willy didn’t even know the man’s full name (he had been told to refer to him as only “the commander”) but now he knew that the man had a son, whom he was willingly sending into an area infested with Gotoro soldiers? Willy couldn’t believe it. It was vile - cruel, even. Just who was this guy? And why was he so casual about all of this? Willy wasn’t sure. He was sure of one thing, however: he intended to find out.

Willy took a small breath - debating with himself. Was he really about to snoop through the commander's belongings again? Yes. Yes he was. He mumbled a small apology - mostly to ease his own conscience - and began rifling through the various papers (mostly letters and notes) sprawled out on the desk. Finding nothing of importance, he then began opening each drawer and carefully peering inside each one. Eventually, Willy stumbled upon a locked drawer. That struck him as particularly weird - as none of the other drawers had been locked (it didn’t even look like any attempt was made to do so, anyway). The locked drawer likely contained something crucial. Willy needed to find out. He looked around for some sort of key. There had to be one somewhere, right? Willy just needed to find it.

He scanned around the room, his eyes eventually landing on a giant oil painted portrait of the commander. He slowly approached it. As he got closer, Willy noticed that something about the painting seemed off. He couldn’t quite place what it was until he was a few inches away from the painting. It appeared as if the painting was placed onto hinges - likely to conceal a hidden compartment. It was also slightly ajar (as if whoever had closed it last did so very hastily and hadn’t ensured it was fully closed). Willy’s hand hovered over the corner of the painting. He slowly inched it closer - carefully touching it. It instantly swung open and revealed a small, hollowed cupboard. It was mostly barren - save for a few cobwebs - but Willy noticed a small object that had been hastily plopped on the front of the shelf. It was a key. Willy could guess what it went to, so he carefully scooped it into his palm.

Returning back to the locked drawer, key safely tucked in his hand, Willy was filled with a curious determination. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he’d find - or if it would even be useful - and he had likely just committed several crimes in search of this information. He simply hoped it would be worth it (and that he wouldn’t get caught). Willy composed himself and carefully inserted the key into the lock. He turned it towards the left - listening as the pins of the lock clicked into place before unlocking with a faint pop. Willy extended a shaky hand and slowly opened the drawer.

Inside it was a small, upside down name placard - along with a piece of paper with a photograph paperclipped to the front. Willy carefully picked up both items. He first inspected the piece of paper. It appeared to be the standard sign up form given to new recruits, however it was filled out in a large and blocky scrawl - as if the person writing it had been left handed. Not too unusual, Willy supposed. Plenty of the recruits were left handed. He took a closer look, examining the name and photograph attached.

Upon seeing who it was, Willy nearly jumped in surprise. It appeared the form belonged to none other than Lee. Willy was extremely confused. Why would the commander have this? Willy thought to himself, An’ why would he lock it away? What’s so important about that lad that he doesn’t want anyone else knowin’?

Willy pushed the thought to the side momentarily. He still had more to inspect. He carefully turned the nameplate in his hands and read its inscription. It belonged to the commander - that much was evident, given the large “Commander” written in bold, fierce letters. However, that wasn’t all that was written. Underneath it, in much smaller text, was a name.

Willy squinted, trying his best to decipher the cursive lettering. Eventually he was able to read the name. It read Vincent Leegland. Willy gasped, dropping the nameplate in surprise. It tumbled onto the floor with a loud clatter. He silently swore to himself - hoping no one was around to hear the clamor.

“Yer jokin’,” Willy mumbled to himself, disbelief and panic coating his words. He felt dizzy - the wave of information seemed to make his head spin. He looked back at the paper. Willy’s face drained of all color. How hadn’t he noticed the connection before? The boy looked quite similar to the commander - save for the gingerness of Lee’s hair and the faint vitiligo that littered his features - and even shared his name. Of course he would be the commander’s son. Willy felt like a fool, despite the fact that there was no way he could’ve known.

His mind finally began clicking the pieces together: the commander’s coldness, his apathy towards the loss of innocent lives, the disdain in his voice whenever the commander spoke of those who wanted to be “helpful”, the influx of Gotoro soldiers as of late, and the apparent Gotoro grunt who had “gotten too close” to the campsite. Willy couldn’t believe it: the commander was a double agent. And he was now after Kent and Lee. Willy couldn’t let anything happen to those boys - they had slowly become the closest thing he would consider to his own children.

“I have ta warn those lads,” Willy gasped, fear covering his face.He gripped his chest tightly, trying his best to calm his now rapid breathing. It would do him no good to panic and shut down, not when he had to protect Kent and Lee. He gulped and carefully placed the paper and name placard back into the drawer and locked it. He scurried around the room and attempted to set everything back to its original state - desperately trying to make it seem as if nothing had changed since the commander had left. Willy had debated taking some of the information he found, but decided against it. He didn’t want to risk taking anything (except for the tape recorder). It was better if the commander began to trust him, he decided. That way he could slowly squeeze more information out of him. It would all prove useful later - or at least he hoped it would.

Willy began exiting the room - stopping to grab the map as the commander had suggested - and headed off to find the boys. While he did find them, it was - unfortunately - at Danny’s funeral. Not an ideal place to warn someone. Willy grimaced and stuck to the side - watching the crowd and trying to find the right moment to intervene and pull Kent and Lee aside. Fortunately, it seemed Lee had decided on that moment for him. Willy watched as the boy approached the podium - yelling about how the announcer didn’t know Danny at all. Willy understood his sentiments, as the announcer was droning on and on about someone he didn’t recognize. He hadn’t even realized it was supposed to be about Danny - that’s how awful it was. Willy watched as the announcer began arguing with Lee - causing the boy to erupt in an outburst.

“My name is not Vincent,” Lee spoke, angry tears streaming down his face, “It’s Lee.”

Willy decided that this was probably a good time to step in. He approached the general and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. After a short exchange - and a few choice words - the general scampered away, looking like a dog with his tail between his legs.

He approached Kent and Lee, who were now surrounding the microphone - yelling any positive thing about Danny they could think of. It caused a small pang to appear in Willy’s chest. To think that, none of this would’ve happened if Willy had figured out the Commander’s plan earlier. To think that all three of the boys would be safe - that they’d be alright.

Willy wasn’t sure how to fix the damage that had already been done, but he was sure of this: Danny’s death would be the last. He couldn’t let either of the remaining boys get hurt. He couldn’t lose another cadet. No, he wouldn’t lose another cadet.

He placed a caring hand on each of their shoulders and gave a small, though mostly humorless chuckle, “Well, that was certainly a ceremony, eh, lads?”

…

“Anyway, ya know how the rest of that day went, so I’ll spare ya by not repeating it, eh?” Willy explained, turning to look at a clearly baffled Kent.

“What?” Kent started, his mouth agape. What he had just heard filled his mind with thoughts as he desperately tried to make connections. He looked at Willy, his eyes wide, and spoke once more, “What happened next?”

“I’m gettin’ to that part, son,” Willy replied, rolling his eyes. He pointed to a nearby bucket of bait, motioning for Kent to grab it. He added, “Hand me those worms, lad. Darn fishes took me last piece of bait like it was nothin’!”

“I have so many questions,” Kent spoke, though he handed the bucket of slimy, wriggling worms towards Willy. He watched as the older man went silent, intently baiting his hook.

“Yeah, yeah, I know ya do,” Willy replied with a small grumble. He pointed towards Kent’s own rod and narrowed his eyes before adding, “Ye can fish an’ talk at the same time, Kent.”

Kent’s brows furrowed together in frustration, though he grabbed his own rod and baited the hook. He decided he’d humor Willy - and, besides, Willy had said he would only tell Kent the story if he fished. A small sigh slipped past his lips, though he watched the bobbers of his and Willy’s rods once again land with a small splash.

“So, as I was sayin’, Vincent Sr.. He had this convoluted plan-” Willy began, eager to continue his story

“Wait, do you think he-” Kent interrupted

“Kent, I am gettin’ to that part, son,” Willy replied, shaking his head.

“Anyway, he has this plan-” Willy tried again.

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Kent interrupted once more. He turned to Willy, his face contorting in deep thought.

An exasperated sigh slipped past Willy’s lips. He reached a hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned back to Kent and asked, “Do ya want to hear the story or not?”

Kent nodded. He desperately needed to understand why Willy hadn’t reached out over the past fifteen or so years.

“Then quit interruptin’ me, lad!” Willy scolded, though there was no malice in his voice - just slight frustration. Kent pursed his lips together and nodded, mumbling out a small “sorry”.

Willy waved his hand dismissively and continued speaking, “Anyway, as I was tryin’ to say….”

…

After Willy delivered the unfortunate news that Kent and Lee would be moving to active combat, he then - with guidance and constant checking from the Commander - drove the boys towards the new location. A desolate, remote camp in the middle of nowhere.

Great, Willy grumbled to himself, This is just great. Take ‘em to a place where they won’t be missed if somethin’ happens to them.. It made him sick - the Commander’s plan, the fact he had to go along with it, the fact that he had to lie to both Kent and Lee in hopes it would keep them safe. All of it made him sick.

It didn’t help that, in the back of the transportation vehicle, Kent and Lee were audibly distraught. Willy briefly glanced up at the rear-view mirror, pulled from his thoughts by a rather raucous racket from the boys. They appeared to be arguing. Willy understood - they had just lost a close friend (though Willy knew one boy thought of Danny as more than a “close friend”. He’d witnessed it too many times before to ignore Lee’s behavior. He also knew first hand the heartbreak that came with it - the heartbreak of losing someone who you could imagine a life with.) Unfortunately, knowing how he felt and being able to comfort him were two different things. Willy sighed and tore his eyes away from the mirror. He hated that the boys were arguing, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He knew that they’d resolve their little spat eventually - he just had to trust they would do the right thing. He just had to trust he was doing the right thing.

The weight on Willy’s chest seemed to grow as the vehicle approached the entrance to the new camp. It didn’t help that he knew what was coming next: he would be forced to separate the boys, all by the commander’s orders. He pursed his lips together and went to gather Kent and Lee - both of whom were now complaining about some sort of “head injury”.

Willy playfully rolled his eyes and spoke, “Ah, quit yer whinin’, lads.” He slowly approached the back of the vehicle before motioning for them to follow him. Willy added, “Looks like we’re here. Let’s go get ya settled in. Quickly.”

The three of them walked towards the nearby housing units as Willy checked his map, along with the notes he was given from the commander. These boys were to be separated - no exceptions. They would not be allowed to speak to each other, much less look. Willy hated that command so, so much. It made his stomach churn. His discontent only seemed to grow as they approached Lee’s dwelling. Willy glanced back at the boys - both looking quite solemn and hardly talking. He desperately missed the lively chatter that usually resounded from the walls of Cabin Five.

Willy hated seeing them like this. He hated how Kent and Lee seemed to have lost their usual boisterous energy. He had never seen Lee look so upset - hell, he hadn’t even seen the boy do anything but smile. But now? An uncomfortably neutral expression remained plastered across Lee’s features. Willy mentally tsked. It didn’t suit him. Unfortunately, Willy was about to make the situation worse.

They finally reached the building where Lee would be staying. Willy gulped, a wave of discomfort wrapping around him like a thick, uncomfortable blanket. He took a deep breath before motioning for Lee to enter the building. That was the easy part. The difficult part, however, remained. As if in tune with Willy’s thoughts, Kent attempted to follow Lee into the building.

Willy placed a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking his head before speaking, “Not you, lad.” A sigh slipped past his lips and a look of regret washed over his face as the next words left his lips, “Just Private Leegland.”

Kent looked at him, confused, and Willy felt his chest tighten once more. He hated that expression. He hated that he had to be the bearer of this news, too. He knew what was coming next, of course, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“What?” Kent asked, a mixture of confusion and disbelief crossing his features, “Why?”

Willy grimaced, an uncomfortable expression forming on his lips. He felt as if he had just swallowed a frog - his throat felt slick and slimy. It felt wrong. He hated to do this, but it was the commander’s orders, after all. He sucked air between his teeth before gritting them, debating how to best break the news.

Willy hesitated before speaking, “The.. er.. The Commander decided it would be best if you two were separated. At least for a while.”

“What?” Kent asked, his voice rising in disbelief. He protested, his brows furrowing together in discontent, “That’s not fair!”

Willy’s thoughts exactly. This was absolutely not fair and was most definitely not a good idea, but Willy found himself in a situation without much of a choice. He felt defeated - caught between his own morality and the need for information. Going along with the commander’s plan was probably the worst decision he had ever made, but Willy was in too deep to turn back now.

He sighed and pursed his lips, trying his best to hide his own discontent - the same discontent that lined his eyes and splattered across the wrinkles and scars. He had seen far too much in his thirty something years of life - it starts to wear down on you, eventually. Willy simply hoped he’d get out before it reached that point. He turned to Kent, his lips forming a straight line, and replied, “This is war, son. Nothing is fair.”

Willy then explained (or attempted to) explain how it wasn’t his decision and that it was nothing against them. He sincerely hoped the boys would understand and wouldn’t portray him as the bad guy.

Willy glanced between the two and frowned before letting out a defeated sigh. He tried to explain even further, “Look, lads, I'm not heartless. If I could do anythin’, I would, but it's out of me control.”

They looked at him with a hurt expression. Willy responded with a simple shake of his head, dismissing any protests they might have made. It truly broke his heart to do this, but he could only hope it was for the best. He had to hope that, going along with the commander’s plan, everything would turn out fine. He had to hope that they’d be alright. He had to hope. He had to. For their sake.

It made Willy angry just thinking about the cold, uncaring look on the commander's face as he issued the order. How could someone be so cruel? Those boys just lost someone close to them and this is what they get? Willy thought to himself. It didn't sit right with him. Not one single bit. If anything, he believed they should stick together - for emotional support. Regardless of what he thought, it wasn’t Willy’s decision to make. He had to go along with the commander’s plan or none of them stood a chance at making it out of there. He wanted to keep them safe. No, he needed to keep them safe.

He watched as Lee and Kent said their goodbyes and felt sadness on their behalf. Willy wished he could make them explain - he wished he could spill the commander’s plan and convince them both to run - but he couldn’t. He was just as much of a pawn as they were, only he didn’t realize it yet. He pushed his thoughts from his mind and guided Kent towards his own dwelling.

“Ah, this is yer place, Kent,” Willy explained, motioning towards the door. He watched as Kent scrutinized the building. As he was waiting on Kent to enter, his communication device that he had received from the Commander beeped and vibrated. Willy would have to meet up and discuss the journey over, he knew that, but it didn’t make him enjoy the idea any more. He sighed and pulled it out from his pocket - reading a small encrypted message. It was written in the standard code - just as a safety precaution - but Willy was able to easily decipher it.

He squinted at the small screen, and mentally translated the message. It read: “Leave the boy. Come to my tent. We will discuss further upon your arrival.” Willy sighed before pocketing the device once more. He turned to Kent, who was still debating entering his new dwelling.

“Well, lad,” Willy started, nodding in Kent’s direction. He looked around - trying to determine if anyone nearby was watching. He saw a faint shadow around the corner and pursed his lips. So the Commander had sent people to watch him. Willy suspected as much, but it was still jarring to receive confirmation. He placed a hand on Kent’s shoulder before speaking once more, “I have some.. Ah.. Errands, let’s say. I’ll see ya later. Try to get yerself settled in, eh?”

And with that, Willy left Kent’s side and headed in what he hoped was the right direction. The Commander had been especially vague regarding the location of his tent, which made things more difficult. It didn’t help that Willy had to force himself not to stare towards his left - he didn’t want the spy to figure out he was aware of their presence.

After a few moments of trudging through the woods, Willy came across a secluded tent - one that he assumed belonged to the Commander, with how secretive the man was Willy wouldn’t be surprised. He looked around, ensuring he hadn’t been followed (well, followed more than he was already) and pulled open the flap before quickly entering.

It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior, but once it did, he saw the man himself standing in the corner of the room. He was wearing a neatly pressed uniform, adorned with various sashes and medals, the sign of a commanding officer. The sign of power. It made Willy irrevocably angry. The Commander had his hands clasped behind his back and was facing away from Willy. Despite this, he was acutely aware of his arrival.

“Good,” He called over his shoulder, his voice seeming less than enthusiastic, as if it was permanently monotone. Willy wasn’t sure he had ever heard an emotion in the man’s voice - or that he had seen one other than boredom on his face, for that matter. The Commander spoke once again, “You’re finally here. It took you long enough.”

“Sorry ‘bout that-” Willy began, though he was quickly interrupted.

The Commander held up his hand, halting Willy’s speech. He spoke instead, “Cease your blabbering, William. I neither care nor have the time to hear it.”

Willy was taken aback, his mouth slightly agape at the sudden bored, almost passive-aggressive hostility in the Commander’s words. He moved to protest, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting the Commander further. He remained silent.

“Well?” The Commander urged, finally turning to face Willy. His expression looked bored as always - as if he had much better things to be doing than talking to Willy. The Commander spoke again, “Are you going to debrief me or not, Colonel? Unlike you, I have important things to do.” Ouch.

“Ah.. right,” Willy replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He cleared his throat before beginning his debrief, “Well, I did as ya said. I packed up the lads and brought them here. I showed Lee-”

“Who?” The commander interrupted, looking at Willy suspiciously. He hadn’t authorized anyone named “Lee” to handle any of this information.

“Um.. Private Vincent Leegland, sir,” Willy explained, his voice slightly quiet. Of course he wouldn’t know that nickname. As far as Willy was concerned, he didn’t know a single thing about Lee - despite the fact that the boy was his son. He continued, “It’s just.. Err.. a nickname, I suppose.” Though, as he mentioned Lee’s full name, he carefully watched the commander - searching his face for the smallest hint. It was brief, but Willy swore he was the Commander’s eye twitch.

“We don’t do nicknames here, Colonel,” The Commander scolded. His lip curled into a faint sneer and he added, “We do not even do names. Names make people weak. It humanizes them. From here on, you will refer to them as “A” and “B”, is that understood?”

“Ah. well, Commander..”

“Is that understood, Colonel?” He repeated, narrowing his eyes at Willy.

Willy gulped, though he nodded and spoke, “Understood, sir. No names.”

The Commander barely acknowledged Willy’s words. Instead, he motioned for him to continue his debrief.

“Well, as I was sayin’, I brought them here - like ya asked. I made sure they were separated, like ye asked.” Willy summarized, leaving out several parts. The Commander didn’t need to know everything, did he?

“Right,” The Commander replied with a small nod. Willy waited, raising a small eyebrow. The Commander looked at him, his bored expression returning. He spoke once more, “I suppose you’re expecting praise? Well, congratulations, you didn’t fail me. Yet.”

Willy’s eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Had the commander expected him to fail? Willy wasn’t sure what to think about that comment. Before he could think deeper about it, the Commander began speaking once again.

“In any case, now that you’re here, it’s time to complete the move to the next phase. Since you have proven yourself… adequate, I will explain in more detail.”

“My…ah, let’s say, my colleagues, are searching for something in particular. Well, someone, I should say. A woman. Her name is Misha Grieves,” The Commander began. He perched himself on the edge of his makeshift desk. He turned to Willy, checking to see if he was listening, before continuing, “There have been reports that she is staying in the remains of the nearby town. I don’t know all the specifics - not that I’d tell you if I did, anyway - but I know that she is important..”

“You, along with A and B and whatever other troops you need to use, will be tasked with searching for her. We must find her first. I have it on good authority that she has information.. Information that would give me a certain.. Leverage, let’s say.”

Willy raised an eyebrow skeptically. What information could the Commander possibly be after? And…why was he willing to use troops to get it? Whatever it was, Willy wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.. He gulped, though he remained silent. He anxiously waited for the Commander to continue.

“The information she has is not important to you, Colonel,” The Commander warned, his eyes darting towards Willy in a way that said “don’t even ask.” Willy nodded and felt himself shrink as the Commander’s eyes bore into him. Upon hearing that, Willy decided that it, in fact, was important to him. He just hoped he encountered this woman before either of the boys - Willy needed to talk to her, to discover what the Commander was hiding.

The Commander ignored Willy’s silence and continued explaining the next phase, “When - yes, when, there will be no ‘if’ - you find her, you will notify me immediately. Do not stop before you reach me - I will not accept any excuses. You will be when the clock hits twenty-two hundred hours, exactly.. Do not get distracted, Colonel.” He briefly paused, allowing Willy to nod once more, before continuing, “Tomorrow, take them into whatever remains of that dump and find her. You have approximately 36 hours. Do not fail me.”

After the Commander finished his spiel, Willy left the tent - shaken and head bursting with more questions than answers. Could the Commander really expect him to do this? And, to make things worse, what would happen if Willy failed? He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. However, it would seem that the universe, with its sick and twisted sense of humor, didn’t care what Willy wanted. It didn’t care what anyone wanted, for that matter, or none of this would’ve happened, Willy decided. He decided something else, too. No matter what happened, he was going to teach the boys to protect themselves. Willy worried that, somehow, he wouldn’t be there to protect them.

…

The next day, Willy set off. His palms were coated in a thick, grimey sweat.He had spent the last night worrying intently about the request, the boys’ safety, and what would happen when he had to confront the Commander. He wasn’t sure if he had slept (or, if he did, the quality of it), but there was no time to worry about that. He had to prepare Kent and Lee. And he knew just the way.

Some time later, he managed to arrange a set of four or five targets near a small weapon shed (if you could call it a shed, that was. It was more of a…dilapidated wooden box, stocked haphazardly with training-grade weapons, which Willy found…concerning). He took a step back and surveyed his work, a hand resting on his chin in contemplation. The whole thing looked rather shoddy and hastily put together, but it would have to do. Willy had no other choice - a jarring, yet recurring concept that seemed to haunt everything he did these days. With the construction done, all he needed was Kent and Lee. He set off to find them, along with other troops to avoid suspicion.

“Eh.. this shouldn’t be t’ hard,” Willy mused to himself, pursing his lips together as he surveyed the grounds. The boys should be training right now, he reasoned. The first person he found was Lee, who appeared to be sitting silently by himself - a few feet away from where his fellow cadets were doing an obstacle course.

He carefully approached Lee before resting a caring hand on his shoulder. Lee looked up, surprised by the sudden touch, and immediately morphed his solemn expression into a grim, somewhat pained smile. Willy’s lips formed a thin line.

“Ya don’t have to pretend around me, lad,” Willy spoke, kneeling down so that he was eye level with Lee. He gave Lee a firm pat before speaking again, “I know how ya feel, son. Don’t tire yerself out tryin’ to put on a brave face for everyone. It’s not worth it.”

Lee opened his mouth to protest, but simply sighed instead. He didn’t have the energy to argue or to explain that he was fine. The last few days had been taking a toll on him. He looked at Willy and let his cheerful expression fall. Lee knit his brows together and asked, “How do you always do that?”

“Eh?” Willy asked, confused, “Do what, lad?”

“Know what I’m thinking,” Lee explained, his jaw tightening as a flash of frustration covered his features, “It.. it’s weird, man. I mean.. The only people who could do that so easily were my Oma and Dan-” Lee quickly cut himself off. Saying his name, thinking about him.. It all hurt too much to bear.

“Ah.. I see,” Willy nodded, his own sigh slipping past his lips. He looked at Lee, his expression concerned and understanding. He spoke once more, “Ya miss him, don’t you?”

Lee went silent. “Missing him” felt like such an understatement.

Lee felt as if, when Danny died, a large, gaping hole appeared in his chest. It ached with an intense yearning - one that could never be satisfied. Not anymore, anyway. He felt that Danny didn’t die alone that day. Lee felt like the loss of Danny had tore away at his soul - at his very core. In truth, he didn’t know who he was without Danny. After all, Danny had made Lee well…Lee. He felt completely and utterly lost, but he wouldn’t say this outloud. He didn’t know how Willy would respond.

Instead, Lee simply sighed and brought his knees to his chest. He replied, though his voice was barely a whisper, “Yeah. Yeah.. I do..”

“I know how that is, lad,” Willy replied, nodding once again. He looked off in the distance, surveying the horizon and catching the faintest glimpse of the city’s tallest building. Willy felt a familiar emotion bubble in his chest, one he thought was long buried. One he thought had died with Chris. One he had tried too hard to kill, to silence, to ignore. Looking at Lee, seeing him in this state, it reminded him of himself all those years ago. For once, Willy didn’t suppress the emotion. He let it bubble beneath the surface, slowly rising and threatening to overtake his lungs. He let himself think about events he had long tried to forget. He let himself think about Chris.

“I know yer probably wonderin’, ‘what is this man yappin’ about’, but just trust me, son,” Willy began, turning to look at Lee, his expression filling with the utmost empathy. He continued, “I have been in yer place before. I know what it’s like to lose someone who ya love.”

Lee closed his eyes. He listened intently to Willy’s words, letting them wash over him. Something about the tone he used made Lee believe that, if anyone would understand, it would be Willy.

He opened his eyes and gave a small nod. He paused for a moment before saying, “I just.. What I felt for Danny - what I still feel for him.. It isn't like anything I’ve ever experienced before, Willy.” Lee paused, trying his best to gather his thoughts. He glanced down at the necklace around his neck, the one containing Danny’s dog tag. Lee frowned and wrapped his hand around it. He let his thumb trail over the letters. He continued, “I don’t fully understand it, but I think I’m in love with him. I.. I just wish I could’ve told him to his face. Not.. you know… to his corpse.”

“Well, at least ya told ‘em, eh, lad?” Willy asked, trying to cheer him up. Seeing that it wasn’t working, Willy added, “The same can’t be said fer me, son. I didn’t tell.. Ehh.. this friend o’ mine how I felt, even after he died. I couldn’t bring meself to, I suppose. I regret that - every single day.”

“I guess,” Lee began. His expression dropped slightly and he gripped the tag tighter, feeling the cool metal press firmly against the grooves on his palm. He opened his mouth to speak once more and a small, barely contained sob bubbled in his throat. Lee pushed it back down and added, “I keep thinking about what Kent said to me - how.. How he told me it was my fault. In a way, I guess it was. Every night, I lay awake and I think to myself - would things be different if I hadn’t reacted that way? If I hadn’t run away like a coward? If I realized what I felt sooner? If he didn’t have to chase after me.. If he didn’t have to worry about me at all..”

“Lee..”

“No matter how I look at it, I can’t seem to figure out why he went after me that day,” Lee continued, his voice now brimming with emotion as he rambled. “I’m not something to chase after, Willy. I feel like, no matter what I do or wherever I go, a cloud of bad luck follows me and hurts the people I care about. I don’t want to hurt people..” His voice broke as he said this last line, a small tear welling up in the corner of his eye. Lee sniffled.

“Son, yer not gonna hurt people, ye hear me?” Willy reassured, giving Lee’s shoulder a gentle, yet firm (almost fatherly) squeeze. He looked at Lee, and thought about how the boy before him looked almost like a scared animal, huddling in on himself and shivering while trying to be brave. It was a much different visual from his father - a cold blooded, hungry wolf waiting to gobble up any prey that crosses his path. Willy couldn’t fathom how on earth they could ever be related - that was something that confused him to no end. He spoke once more, “Ye aren’t like that, I know it. You aren’t like him..” Willy’s voice trailed off as he said this last part, leaving the last word barely audible.

“Huh?” Lee asked, tilting his head in confusion, “Like who?”

“Ah,” Willy replied, pursing his lips into a thin line. Of course Lee would pick up on that. Willy mentally scolded himself. He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand and added, “No one. Don’t worry about it, lad.”

“Oh-kaay..” Lee responded, his voice laced with skepticism. However, it was clear he wouldn’t get any more information on the subject, so he dropped it.

“Anyway.. I.. ah..” Willy started, exhaling a rather large breath. He clasped his hands together - a look of reluctance crossing his features. He spoke again, “I hate to say this, son.. But I need you to do something difficult, okay?”

“What’s that..?”

“Self defense training,” He spoke, emotion void from his voice. He watched as Lee’s features paled and a look of worry crept over the boy’s features. Willy continued, “With a weapon.”

“Willy-” Lee began, his eyes wide with fear. He tried to protest.

“I know, son,” Willy replied with a small sigh, “I know.”

“Then why-”

“Because I have to. Because, if I don’t, something will happen - I have a strange feelin’. Because we all have to do difficult things, son. Because we have a mission later an’ I want ya to be prepared.. Because I care about ya. Lots of reasons, Lee.”

“An’ before ya waste yer breath protestin’, I think ye will thank me - in the long run,” Willy explained, watching Lee’s jaw clamp shut. Willy sighed once more before adding, “Besides, Kent is comin’, too, so.. Ya won’t be alone, alright?”

After speaking these words, Willy watched as Lee went silent in consideration.

“Just.. think about it, lad,” Willy spoke once more, pushing himself into a standing position. He took a deep breath and glanced back towards the makeshift arena. He spoke over his shoulder, yet he didn’t turn back in Lee’s direction, “I have t’ go find Kent. Head over there, would ya?”

Willy did not wait for Lee’s answer. He simply pointed towards the targets and walked away.

…

“Anyway, ya pretty much know what happens the rest of that day,” Willy explained, motioning to the still present - yet slightly faded - scars across Kent’s features.

It appeared that he had gotten more over the years - plus the addition of some hearing aids (likely to help his ears after repeated exposure to loud gunfire and explosives). Willy gave a wry chuckle, “Ye even still have the scars to prove it, lad.”

Kent gave Willy a look that read “very funny”, though he let the man continue.

“But what ya don’t know..” Willy started. He paused, a small sigh slipping past his lips, “Is what happened after Lee brought you to the infirmary tent..”

“Aye.. there were some pretty heavy repercussions on my end..”

…

After Kent was brought to the infirmary, Lee had gone to find Willy and inform him about what happened.

“Ye.. ye what?” Willy replied, his face draining of all color as Lee finished retelling the events. Willy’s expression dropped the moment he heard Lee mention “a woman”.

“I told you, Willy,” Lee groaned, clearly frustrated he had to tell this story for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. It didn’t help that Lee appeared more shaken every time he thought about it.

“Kent was attacked, I.. I didn’t.. I didn’t know what else to do,” Lee explained, seeming to shrink in on himself with every word. The events of the earlier afternoon - seeing Misha attack Kent, having to be the one who saved him.. It all weighed on Lee quite heavily.

Willy sighed. He had only himself to blame, he supposed. He had told Lee to use the weapon in self defense - but he never imagined they would actually need to. He hadn’t anticipated that they would actually find Misha, especially so soon after their search had started. Willy replayed the commander’s words in his mind and his stomach churned.

“Look, lad, this isn’t your fault-” Willy started, attempting to calm Lee down.

“No,” Lee interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. He spoke once more, in a matter-of-fact tone, “It’s your’s.”

“Now, hold on a second, son..”

“If you hadn’t made me grab this-” Lee motioned to the rifle still firmly placed in his shaking palms, emotion rising in his voice, “Maybe that poor woman would still be alive..”

Willy sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose to avoid letting his frustration get the better of him. He knew Lee was upset. Arguing with him would only do more harm than good. He wished he could explain everything - to tell Lee why they went out there, to tell Lee why he was here in the first place - but he couldn’t.

“I don’t - no, I won’t touch one of these things again. Never, “ Lee argued, motioning angrily with his free arm. His voice seemed very heated - quite unlike Lee’s usual demeanor, “I am not ever, and I mean ever, am I going to touch one of these things again.”

“Aw, come on, lad, it’s not that bad,” Willy pleaded. He was mostly trying to convince himself at this point. Willy knew the repercussion for his failure would be grave.. Hs just didn't know how grave. Yet.

“You weren't there. You don't know-” Lee spoke again, his face contorting in anger.

“I assure ya, I do.”

“No, you don't, Willy,” Lee replied, shaking his head in disbelief. He shoved the weapon in Willy’s direction before reaching for the small locket around his neck. He unclasped it - revealing a small picture. It appeared to be a much younger Lee, standing between two figures - both of whom had their faces ripped from the photo, one with their hand firmly gripping his shoulder. Almost militantly. Next to him was a third figure - a much older woman, with kindness shining in her eyes. Her face remained in tact. She was Lee’s Oma.

On the other side of the locket lay the part thaf had been ripped from the other side - as if whoever had given it to Lee originally did not want them in the picture. The face of one of the figures was jarringly familiar to Willy. Although he looked much younger, Willy could tell it was the commander. Not surprising, Willy thought to himself, he knew the commander was Lee’s father, after all. The other figure he did not know - a woman, with long, sleek black hair and brown eyes similar to Lee’s own. His mother, Willy reasoned.

“Why are ya showing me this, lad?” Willy asked, confused.

“Ever since that moment, I haven't been able to stop thinking about that woman.. There was something about her I couldn't quite place.. Something familiar,” Lee explained. He looked at the locket and a small sigh slipped past his lips, “Then, I remembered something..”

“I found this photo after Oma died - the ripped half, that is..” Lee started, gulping slightly, “I didn't really know the people in it so I didn't think much about it at the time.. But.. seeing that woman's face.. feeling how familiar it was..”

“I opened the locket again.. And I compared what I saw with the woman I.. I.. um.. you know..”

“Anyway.. the years didn't change her that much, I suppose..”

“What are you gettin' at, lad?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn't known what Misha looked like - the Commander hadn't provided a description.

“That woman..” Lee started, taking a deep breath as a small sob built up in his chest, “was my mother.”.

“And.. and I had to..” Lee tried to explain further, closing his eyes tightly to avoid crying.

Willy’s eyes widened, and he reached a hand out to carefully touch Lee’s shoulder. He spoke gently, “I'm sorry, lad..”

Lee shook his head, brushing the contact away. His anger returned.

Lee clenched his fist at his side, his jaw tightening. He spoke once more, an angry determination filling his voice, “I'm not ever going to touch one of these stupid things again. I don't want to hurt people, self defense or not.”

And with that, Lee stormed off. Leaving Willy alone to process what he had just learned.

All the information swirled around his mind - crowding it and causing a large wave of guilt to crash down on him.

He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He couldn’t believe what Lee had done, either. And he definitely couldn’t believe - or even fathom - the kind of things Lee was feeling at that moment. Willy felt awful, his stomach lurched. This was yet another reason why the Commander had to be stopped. However, Willy couldn’t help thinking about what would happen if Lee ended up in another situation like this. He was worried that Lee might endanger not only himself, but everyone else, too. So, he crept into the medical tent and decided to talk to Kent about it.

After chatting with Kent, and assuring him he should rest, Willy took a deep breath. He then checked his watch. Nearly 22:00 - the time the Commander had expected him back. He pursed his lips together with a faint smack, taking a moment to hope the commander wouldn’t be too upset about this. But that’s all he could do: hope. Realistically, he knew this wouldn’t end well.

Willy reluctantly headed towards the Commander’s tent. The man himself was already inside, his hands crossed over his chest. The Commander looked at Willy expectantly.

“Well, where is she?” The man spoke, raising an eyebrow as he gazed lazily in Willy’s direction.

“Ah..” Willy started, pursing his lips into a thin line, “About that..”

The commander looked at him, his eyes shooting a warning glance. He spoke again, “Where is she, Colonel?”

“She ain’t here, Commander,” Willy admitted. He glanced down at the floor, a sense of foreboding washing over him. He continued, “Not anymore, anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” The Commander asked, leaning closer to Willy. His voice remained even, though Willy could hear the small undertones of anger. He spoke again, “Where. Is. She?”

Willy went silent for a moment, unsure of how much of the events he should reveal. He didn’t want to endanger the boys, but he knew he couldn’t keep this a secret. Eventually, he cleared his throat and mumbled out a faint, “She’s dead.”

The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, his face contorting in a barely contained anger. The corners of his mouth morphed into a sort of smile and he released a sound similar to a dry, humorless chuckle.

“Hilarious, Colonel. If you ever get tired of this gig, you should become a comedian,” The Commander spoke, obviously deluding himself into believing Willy was merely joking. His expression soon returned to its serious state and he looked Willy dead in the eyes. The Commander spoke once more, “Now, tell me where she is.”

“I have been tryin’ to tell ya,” Willy replied, exasperation filling his voice. “She’s dead, Commander. Happened on the scout mission.. One of the boys.. Ah.. he was attacked, another acted in self defense.”

The Commander closed his eyes, listening intently to the words Willy was speaking. When he opened his eyes, an all too familiar rage filled them.

“Tell me their names and badge numbers,” The Commander instructed, slamming his tight fist against the desk and causing the documents to jostle.

“I.. Er..Ya don’t really need those, right? I.. I mean, it was just an accident-” Willy pleaded, his face paling.

“Their names and badge numbers,” The Commander repeated firmly, “Right now.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, Colonel,” He stated matter-of-factly, his face contorting into an expression of cool, calculated anger.

“Besides, you owe me,” The Commander reminded, “You failed me, now you will pay the price for your failures.”

“Commander..” Willy started, a wave of worry forming across his face. His brows knit together.

“You seem to be rather fond of them, Colonel,” He spoke, the emotion now completely void from his words. He added, “It would be quite a shame for them to pay for your failures, wouldn’t it?”

“Ye wouldn’t..” Willy replied, his jaw clenching.

“Oh. no, I wouldn’t…” The Commander replied. Willy mentally wiped some sweat from his brow, relieved. “But as for my colleagues..? Hm.. They will be quite disappointed upon learning they will never receive the information they seek.”

The Commander turned and sat down at his desk, leaning over it and propping up on his elbows. He clasped his hands together, a wry smile forming across his lips, “Tell me their names and badge numbers, and I’ll ensure their safety.”

Willy sighed. He couldn’t possibly trust the Commander - not after everything he learned - but it seemed that, once again, he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to endanger Kent or Lee any more than he already had. He thought to himself, deeply considering the Commander’s offer. He felt utterly helpless.

Willy looked at the Commander once more, then to a small photo he kept in his breast pocket - a photo of Chris and an infant Kent visiting Willy on his boat. I hope this is the right thing to do, Chrissy.. Willy pleaded silently to himself.

He told the Commander their names.

The Commander smiled in Willy’s direction. A sick, sadistic smile. He stared at Willy as he reached for a nearby walkie-talkie. He brought it towards his lips, never breaking eye contact with Willy as he did this.

He pressed the push-to-talk button and repeated the information he was given. However, at the end of it, he said something quite unexpected.”I have a special request for these two soldiers.” The Commander spoke, though he intently watched Willy’s expression as the next words left his lips.

“Kill them.”

Willy had never regretted a decision faster. His face drained of all color and his mouth remained agape.

Before he realized it, Willy launched himself forward. He reached over the desk and gripped the Commander by the collar of his uniform.

“How could ya?” He spat, anger filling his voice as his grip tightened around the fabric, “Ye said they’d be safe. Ye said ya would ‘ensure their safety’.”

“Hm..” The Commander started, “I don’t recall that.”

Willy felt his teeth clench, his fist gripping the fabric of the Commander’s outfit tight enough to make his knuckles appear white.

“Ye are one sick, twisted ba-.” Willy spoke, though he was quickly cut off.

The Commander raised a hand, cutting off any further words from Willy’s mouth. He spoke, his voice coated in a calm, almost playful tone, “Colonel, I would watch your tone. Be thankful I have warned you of what is to come.”

The Commander went silent for a moment, thinking. Eventually, his lips morphed into a twisted smile, “Besides, you know them better than anyone. You may be able to save them.”

“If you hurry.”

And with that, Willy instantly dropped the Commander’s collar and turned a prompt 180 degrees. He rushed out of the tent. Scrambling to think about what the boys would do, panic slowly washed over Willy’s usual calm, collected disposition.

He couldn’t believe he had been so foolish. He had been trying so hard to protect them that he endangered them in the process. Willy shoved the rushing thoughts down, harshly swallowing as he tried to compose himself. He could fix this. He could still save them. He had to. They were his responsibility now.

Willy practically sprinted to the medical tent. However, he was taken aback at what he found - or rather, the lack of what he was looking for. It appeared that, while the nurses weren’t looking, Kent had managed to slip out unnoticed. Willy gulped harshly. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose - trying to stifle the mixture of panic and frustration rising in him.

Of course Kent had gone against his advice. Willy exhaled an exasperated sigh. Why had he thought any different? This was Chris Neilson’s boy - of course he would search for his friend while injured. Luckily, this meant Willy knew exactly where to look. He silently crept towards the dwellings - making sure to stick to the shadows in case anyone was watching.

As he approached, he managed to catch the middle of a muffled conversation. He overheard Lee lamenting, remorse layered heavily in his voice as he talked to who Willy assumed could only be Kent. The man silently peered around the corner, watching intently as Kent and Lee huddled together - clearly distressed after the day’s events. Willy strained his ears, trying to determine what they were planning. He knew that they tended to act irrationally when emotions ran high, so he was rightfully concerned. Willy heard another snippet of their conversation:

“Kent, I can't stop thinking about her. I feel awful thinking about how we just.. left her there, you know?”.

“It doesn't sit right with me. I.. I think we need to go back. Just to give her a proper burial.”

“Would that help ease your mind?”

“I think so.”

Willy raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by their decision. However, the most surprising part came next:

“I know.. you don't really like them or like using them, but it would make me feel safer. And.. since I can't exactly use my arms right now - especially with something like that, you.. might have to be the one to carry it.”

“Kent, I.. I can't.”

“Okay. If it makes you feel better, we won't bring one.”

The older man mentally face palmed, a wave of distraught disbelief coating his features. He absolutely couldn’t believe what he just heard. Didn’t they know how dangerous it could be at night? Especially since it appeared they intended to go back to a place where Kent was injured merely hours ago. Willy felt like it was all a twisted joke - one with him as the punchline. He knew that, with the Commander’s conspiracy with the Gotoran soldiers, going back into the town was the last thing any of them should do. Yet, he watched as Kent and Lee slowly trekked down the path - carrying only a dimly lit lantern and their foolish emotions: bravery, determination, and Lee’s guilt.

Willy shook his head, another sigh slipping past his lips. He gripped the cool metal of the weapon - something he had picked up on his way over, expecting the worst, as always.

“Those boys,” Willy muttered to himself. He pinched the bridge of his nose before squinting out and seeing how far they had traveled.. “I guess I better follow ‘em, just to make sure that nothin’ bad happens..” He added with a small grumble.

Willy silently followed them, glancing around to ensure there wasn’t any foreseeable danger. He watched as the boys came to a halt and quickly ducked behind a nearby street pole. It wasn’t much cover, but it would have to do. It looked like Kent and Lee were confused, but Willy wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying. He took a deep breath and decided he would risk it. He moved from behind the pole and slowly inched towards the boys. However, just as he was about to reach them, they moved once more - approaching a nearby building and peering inside.

Good, Willy thought to himself, at least they’re bein’ careful. However, Willy’s thoughts were soon interrupted as the boys returned from the doorway - shaking their heads. He watched, confused, as they continued to inspect a row of buildings. He followed behind them, keeping a safe distance to avoid being spotted. Eventually, the boys seemed to find the “correct building” - as evident by their reactions (which Willy saw were ones of intense gagging, as if they stumbled upon something dead).

He grimaced and moved even closer. From the open doorway, the stench wafted in Willy’s direction - potent enough to make any normal person’s eyes water. However, Willy had experienced enough gruesome scenes in his lifetime to remain mostly unphased. He shook his head and brought the edge of his uniform up to cover his nose. Willy peered through a nearby window, squinting because of the low light, and tried to determine what the boys were doing.

What in the world are those boys up to? Willy thought to himself. He watched as Kent and Lee attempted to move the woman. Willy sighed.

He barely had time to react before Kent and Lee emerged from the building once more. This time, dragging a piece of holey fabric behind them. Willy simply shook his head. He couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, but that didn’t mean he thought this was a good idea. Willy only hoped that Lee’s selfless deed didn’t end badly.

There was that word again: hope. The more Willy needed it, the more he used it, the less it seemed to mean. He hoped he could save them, he hoped nothing bad would happen, he hoped this was all a sick, twisted joke.. Yet, it seemed that even the word itself was turning on him.

Willy cautiously followed them, sticking to the edge of the path and keeping a respectable distance. He watched intently as the boys - well, mainly Lee - began digging a deep hole. Willy didn’t see this as too unusual and glanced away - only for a moment. However, that moment almost cost him everything. When he looked up, he noticed the silhouettes of some figures - about twenty or so. His eyes went wide, fear coursing through him.

However, it looked like Kent and Lee were still oblivious. Willy looked around - trying to find something he could use to warn them. He found a small pebble and gripped it tensely in his palm. I hope this works. He thought to himself. Willy took a deep breath and threw the rock as far as he could - watching as it landed on a pile of dirt near Kent’s feet. Luckily, Kent looked up, confused. Willy watched as Kent seemed to notice the figures.

Please, boys, Willy silently mumbled to himself, gritting his teeth in anticipation, Ye have to run. He waited, watching with each agonizingly slow second as Kent and Lee remained motionless. Willy held his breath, hoping that they would hear his silent pleas. A few seconds later, as if by some miracle, Kent begins to run, hastily dragging Lee out of the hole and frantically pointing in the direction they came from. Willy wiped the beading sweat from his brow, however it seemed the worry wasn’t quite over yet. The large mass of figures had begun following the two boys. Willy watched, his beating heart loudly resounding in his ears. He trailed behind the mass, desperately trying to keep the boys in his line of sight.

Willy carefully trekked behind them, making sure to stay near the shadows to avoid getting spotted by either the group of enemies or Kent and Lee. Everything was going perfectly - the boys were running away, they were even nearing a building that could be used for shelter. Everything was going perfect.

Willy watched, his expression contorting in horror as Lee stumbled over a jagged rock. The limp in Lee’s walk that followed a second after didn’t leave much to Willy’s imagination. He knew what had just happened. He also knew that the crowd was only getting closer. He had to do something - anything. Willy took a deep breath and veered in the direction of the crowd, and, without a second thought, he stood in the middle of the path, the firearm clutched tightly in his steady hands.

“I can’t let ya get any closer,” Willy called out, his voice filled with a calmness that felt almost alien. He had yet to raise the firearm - hoping it would only be a last resort.

“We don’t answer to you, old man,” One figure responded, stepping forward. Willy quickly assessed the boldness - this one must be the “leader”, he reasoned.

“No?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow. He swallowed - barely noticeable. Let’s hope this works, Willy thought to himself. “Ya answer to my boss though, eh? Would be quite a shame - if he knew yer were tryin’ to disobey his new orders.”

The man went silent for a moment, thinking. Willy could almost see the gears turning. Eventually, he looked Willy up and down - noting the high rank and the Ferngill Republic uniform. His jaw clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth, “New orders?”

“Aye, straight from the man himself,” Willy started.He thought a silent prayer - hoping his luck hadn’t quite run out. He needed them to believe he wasn’t lying or making this up on the spot.

“Enlighten me, then,” The man replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He wants ye to abandon this effort. It was all one big misunderstandin’, you see,” Willy continued. He smoothed any worry from his expression - attempting to make everything he said completely believable.

“What if we don’t believe you, eh?”

“Ah.. I’d rather it not have to come t’ that, lad,” Willy answered, truthfully this time. He did not want this situation to escalate, but it appeared the universe did not care what he wanted. He watched as the opposing leader weighed the options - follow the original orders and risk missing new ones, or follow the new orders and get chastised if they proved to be false.

“I’m sure ya can be reasonable, an’ even make the correct decision,” Willy tried again - attempting to keep the man on his side.

It wasn’t working.

“Nah,” The man responded, shaking his head, “I don’t think so, Gramps.”

The man turned to several colleagues and motioned towards Kent and Lee before adding, “Go after them. We have a job to do and I don’t have time to listen to this man’s blabbering.”

Willy sighed. It seems his luck was running thin. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and muttering a barely audible apology.

Willy spoke once more, his voice once again steady and even, “Then ya leave me no choice.” He then opened his eyes and raised the firearm.

The next few moments were nothing more than an adrenaline infused blur - the sounds of gunshots cut through the silence and whizzed around. Willy hoped he managed to buy the boys enough time to flee. He hoped they would manage to find safety. To find something, anything. Somewhere they could hide until he could find them again.

But, that wasn’t the case. As Willy dodged, he heard a loud, resounding snap. He frantically scanned around the area - his eyes searching for the source of the noise. Much to his dismay, his eyes landed on two figures: one sprawled out on the ground, his arm at an awkward angle, and the other crouching over him warily. As he got closer, he soon realized he was looking at Kent and Lee.

That ain’t good, he thought to himself, sweat beading on his forehead. It seems he hadn’t given them quite enough time - nor did he account that they, too, would have to dodge the incoming gunfire. He watched as Kent managed to drag Lee inside - and not a second too soon, either. As soon as the door closed, a large circle of soldiers swarmed around the building. Not long after, he heard a voice calling out - something about getting revenge for Misha, followed by the sound of rapid gunfire. Willy’s face paled as he watched bullets ricochet off the side of the building that the boys had just entered.

As the gunfire died down, Willy silently crept closer - carefully peering around the edge of the tree. He scanned the area - looking for any remaining soldiers. It appeared they had all dispersed. All except for one.

He watched intently, though his expression soon fell as he noticed Lee hobbling into the open. Willy kept his eyes trained forward - darting between Lee’s location and the distant soldier. The soldier made a motion - reading his weapon - and Willy acted without thinking. He rushed towards Lee. And then it happened.

It was as if time stopped - his movement became suddenly sluggish, his limbs felt like lead as he attempted to lift them. Willy heard the sound a second later: a sharp, resounding bang followed by the distant whizzing as the bullet traveled through the air. He watched in horror, desperately willing his legs to move. He even tried to call out a cry of warning, but any words that formed found themselves caught in his throat. It was too late.

The bullet collided with Lee’s side in one swift motion, lodging itself in between flesh and the slick crimson ooze beneath. Willy could do nothing but watch - his limbs still refusing to cooperate. He felt his chest tighten as Lee slumped over, crashing to the ground in a pained heap.

Still immobilized by shock, Willy watched as a horrified Kent approached the door and struggled, attempting to pull Lee back inside - before firmly closing the door behind him. The sound of distant rustling caused him to shake out of his stupor. His shock was replaced with anger and he marched in the direction of the distant soldier.

When he reached them, Willy immediately kicked the weapon from the man’s hand. Afterwards, he gripped the man’s collar, roughly dragging them upwards.

“Ye are twisted,” Willy spat, the anger clearly vivid in his voice. His grip tightened on the man’s shirt, his knuckles turning white as a result. Willy continued, “That boy had a life ahead of him - a future.”

The man scoffed, baring his teeth as he looked up at Willy. He spoke, “So did my Misha. I guess he should’ve thought about that before he took her from me.”

“Again with this ‘Misha’ lass,” Willy grumbled, his brows furrowing together. He continued, “What’s so damn special about her, anyway? Whatever information she had couldn’t be worth that lad’s life.”

“And here I thought you knew everything,” The soldier replied, his expression forming one of pity.

“Eh?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow. “Lad, if ye know somethin’, you need to tell me - right now.”

“And why should I do that?” The soldier replied, his expression darkening. “There isn’t anything left for me here, Gramps. My beloved Misha is gone - my future with her. No reward or punishment will be worth this damned existence.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, son,” Willy tried to explain, his voice firm. “You can still change your future. You don’t have to listen to the corrupt, two-faced leaders.”

The soldier smiled - one of defeat, one of pity. He let out a small, wry chuckle and shook his head in disbelief. He spoke once more, “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Willy looked a bit confused, not understanding what the soldier was hinting at.

“We aren’t in control here, Gramps,” the soldier explained, his expression turning solemn, “Never were. Never will be.”

“What are ya blabberin’ about, lad?”

“He’s using you,” The man answered. “He’s using all of us. Pawns in the world’s worst game of fuckin’ chess, that’s all we are - just a meaningless sacrifice, expected to die silently, leavin’ all the damn glory to the kings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You aren’t clever, Gramps,” the soldier spoke once more - pity layered in his words. “He’s using your own game against you and you can’t even see it.”

Wily raised an eyebrow. Was his plan that obvious? Had he not been as careful as he thought? He wasn’t sure.

“You only got this close because he let you,” The man added, looking lazily in Willy’s direction. He continued, “but, you’re simply another piece on the board. He knows that a pawn will never challenge his own king - he has rigged the game called it fairness. Called it a kindness. Called it mercy.”

“He never wanted information,” the soldier explained, “He wanted elimination. Wanted all his little… ‘problems’ to disappear. And you delivered on a silver fuckin’ platter.”

“What-?” Willy asked, his eyes widened in surprise. He dropped the man’s collar. If what the man was saying had an ounce of truth to it, Willy wasn’t sure he could believe it.

While Willy was thinking, the man scrambled and grabbed his previously discarded weapon.

“But it doesn’t matter,” The man spoke, raising the weapon. “I still have a part to play. I have to finish this.. For Misha.”

“Ah.. I can’t let ya do that,” Willy replied, his face paling as he thought about the meaning of the man’s words. Lee was already injured, he knew that meant Kent must be next. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t lose another son.

The man ignored Willy’s words. He bolted, a fierce determination in his eyes. Willy sighed and raised his own weapon.

“I’m sorry,” Willy called out, peering through the small scope attached to the rifle. He spoke once more, “But you left me no choice.”

And with that, a final, sharp bang resounded through the quiet of the night. Willy did not look at the man - he did not need to. His aim was always true - a curse of this lifestyle, one he picked up as a means of survival. He listened as the figure thudded against the packed Earth beneath his feet, but only for a moment.

With the new information in mind, he approached the building where Kent and Lee had hidden themselves. He knocked on the door - a frantic, almost terrified knock. He hoped he wasn’t too late. He hoped he could still save Lee. He hoped and hoped and hoped.

But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“Open the door,” Willy called out, pounding on the outside of the door once again before attempting to jostle the handle and speaking again, “It’s me, lads. I’m here to help ye.”

“Willy?” Kent called out, skeptically.

“Yes, lad!” Willy spoke, his frustration growing the longer the door remained closed. “Let me in an’ I’ll explain everythin’.”

…

“Ya don’t need me to retell what happened next, do ya?” Willy asked, turning to Kent - who had faint, shimmery streaks running down his cheeks, as if he had been crying.

It appears Willy’s story was uncovering some long-forgotten memories; memories Kent hadn’t wanted to forget but lost anyway. Memories of his friends, of their time together, of the reason he was still alive today, of the namesake of his youngest son.

“Ah..” Kent spoke, reaching a hand up to brush away the faint tear streaks, “No. I remember - bits and pieces, but I think it’s better that way.”

Willy gave a firm nod and glanced into the water - his own mood had soured as he retold the events of years ago. He hadn’t forgotten them - he wouldn’t let himself forget them. Every night, Willy thought about what happened. He still held himself accountable, despite knowing he was part of a larger scheme.

“Just.. tell me what happened next,” Kent responded, a small sigh slipping past his lips, “Tell me why you helped me escape. Tell me what happened to you afterwards.”

“Ah.. I was ‘fraid ye would ask about that part.”

“I deserve to know.”

“That you do, Kent,” Willy replied reluctantly, nodding once again. He repeated the phrase, “That you do.”

Willy pursed his lips together, debating how to best approach it. Eventually, he resumed his story.

…

After dropping Lee off at the medical tent, and explaining to the nurses what happened, Willy angrilly marched towards the commander’s tent. He needed to confront him. He wasn’t going to be a pawn to his game any longer, no matter what the commander thought.

“You’re still standing, I see,” The Commander spoke, barely even glancing up as Willy entered the area. He pursed his lips together, noting the hostility in Willy’s eyes. He spoke again, “I suppose that means you have some grievances.”

“Grievances? Grievances?” Willy spoke, anger rising in his voice. “I have more than grievances, Commander. A boy is dead - because of your order. One of your own soldiers, nonetheless.”

The Commander merely shrugged, looking unamused. He spoke, his tone bored, “People die everyday, Colonel.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Willy repeated, leaning across the desk and inching closer to the commander, “A boy is dead because of your orders. He shouldn’t be.”

“A pity, truly,” The Commander replied with a small hum. He glanced up at Willy, his lips forming a thin line. He spoke once more, “However, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Colonel. I haven’t given any orders.”

“Ye lyin’, connivin’-”

“Ah-ah,” the Commander interrupted, “I would watch your tone.” He pulled out a small document - one with a signature beneath it. It appeared to be an order, one showing that Lee and Kent would have to go on a solo mission in the dangerous part of the town, at night. One with Willy’s signature. One he did not write.

“It would be quite a shame if someone found your orders, wouldn’t it?” He spoke, a sly, twisted grin forming on his lips. He continued, “The ones responsible for this poor boy’s death, hm?”

“Eh? I didn’t-” Willy protested, his eyes widening as he glanced at the letter. It looked official - and they even have the messy pen strokes from his heavy hand. It was incredibly convincing, but Willy knew he would never sign something like that.

“Listen, Colonel,” The Commander spoke, using a pen to push Willy further from his face. He clasped his hands on top of each other and spoke calmly, “I control the narrative. What you ‘did’ or ‘did not’ do is merely whatever I say. No hard feelings, of course. I simply do not need you any more. I have everything I wanted - all thanks to you.”

Willy’s mind was racing - he couldn’t believe he was going to be framed for the commander’s crimes. He had to do something.

As he was thinking up a plan, the commander spoke once more, something barely audible, yet Willy assumed it was another twisted scheme.

“Pardon?”

“Oh, I suppose there isn’t a reason to hide it anymore, hm?” The Commander asked, his voice playful, teasing even, as if this was simply a game. He added, “Your next orders will be carried out soon enough.”

“What are ya talkin’ about?” Willy asked, both confused and wary. He eyed the Commander suspiciously.

“Kent Neilson is scheduled to be tried for treason. Both as your accomplice and as the murderer of his fellow brother in arms.”

Willy’s eyes widened, Treason? Kent was only eighteen - hardly capable of treason. He gulped harshly, desperately trying to remain calm. He needed more information. Panicking would ruin his chances at receiving that.

“When?” He asked, harshly gripping the edge of the Commander’s desk.

“Tomorrow afternoon,” The Commander replied, his tone once again returning bored. He continued, “Such a shame, too.. I was really looking forward to his potential.”

With that, Willy had made up his mind: he had to get Kent out before tomorrow afternoon. And he knew just how to do it.

The following morning, Willy rushed towards Kent’s sleeping quarters - however, he was met with a large wave of confusion. Kent was nowhere to be seen. He asked several of the cabinmates and no one knew anything - no one except Ray, that is.

After receiving a tip from Ray, Willy nodded and left the room. He went to the garage and entered the nearest vehicle. Judging by what Ray had told him, Kent had left about an hour ago - which meant he hadn’t gotten too far, much to Willy’s luck.

Sure enough, he found Kent attempting to leave - on foot, nonetheless. Willy had to stifle a laugh as he noticed Kent was walking in the wrong direction.

“Kent!” Willy called out as he trailed behind Kent, having to barely press the gas on the vehicle to keep pace with him. “What are you doin’, lad?”

“Leaving!” Kent called back. He tried to walk slightly faster, but his legs were close to giving up. Willy watched Kent - noting the boy appeared tired. His legs must be exhausted, Willy mused to himself, He’s been walkin’ for hours - it seems.

“And where do ya think you’re goin’?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. Of course, he knew exactly where Kent was going. He even intended to take him there.

“Home,” Kent answered simply. He looked ahead, determined, before adding, “I’m going home.”

“Not that way, ya aren’t,” Willy spoke, a hearty chuckle bellowing in his chest. He reached a hand out the window and pointed in a different direction than Kent was walking before adding, “City is that way, son.”

…

“But ya know that part, right?” Willy spoke, cutting off his story once again. He turned to Kent, who was nodding silently. Willy continued, a chuckle slipping past his lips, “Aye.. we were trapped in that storm. A real rager, it was. Then yer Mammy came an’ took ya home, didn’t she?”

Kent nodded once more. The details were fuzzy, but he remembered it clearly: praying to Yoba, using Willy’s lucky coin on the off chance the payphone worked, being surprised when it actually did, his mother taking him home, and getting to see Jodi after so long. He remembers the way his heart swelled when he saw her, drenched in the rain and wearing only her nightgown. Kent had never been more in love with her than that moment. Though, the love he felt then still rings true today.

“So, tell me,” Kent began, smacking his lips together as he decided if he really wanted to know what happened next. After deciding he did, he continued, “What happened afterwards? How did you get back?”

“Well, I drove back, son,” Willy answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Wait,” Kent tilted his head in confusion. That doesn’t make sense. He thought the vehicle had gotten stuck - which would leave Willy trapped for hours (or until someone noticed). He continued, “I thought the car was stuck..?”

“Eh, it was,” Willy gave a small chuckle. He reached over and gave Kent and firm smack on his back. He sent a wry smile in his direction, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. “For about five seconds.”

“What?”

“All terrain vehicle, lad,” Willy explained, giving a small nod, “Made to withstand even the deepest mud.”

“But you-?” Kent asked, utterly confused.

Willy waved a hand dismissively. He spoke once more, “I just wanted to make sure ya got home safely. There were people breathin’ down my neck, watchin’ my every move.. I couldn’t go into the city if I wanted to.”

Willy pursed his lips together, shaking his head. He continued, “Nah, I didn’t want to risk yer safety any more than I already had. Better you be safe an’ sound in yer Mammy’s car.”

“Anyway, that part isn’t important,” Willy dismissed. He made a small “hrm” noise as his line came up empty yet again. He reached for another piece of bait, applying it to the hook as he spoke once more, “What is important, though, is what happened when I got back.”

…

As soon as Willy arrived back at camp, he knew this would take a turn for the worst. He took a moment to mentally prepare himself, taking a long, deep breath, and then opened the driver’s door. He stepped out. The second his boots touched the earth beneath him, his arms were quickly seized - two sets of hands roughly dragged him towards the commander’s quarters.

“Imagine my surprise when, upon going to fetch a certain cadet for his trial, I am informed that he is no longer there,” The Commander spoke, a barely contained anger lining his features. An exasperated sigh slipped past his lips, “Care to explain, Colonel?”

“I don’t have to explain anythin’ to ya,” Willy replied.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Colonel,” The Commander started, narrowing his eyes. He leaned over, his face inches away from Willy’s own. He repeated, “Care to explain? Where is Kent Neilson?”

“Gone,” Willy answered. He glared at the Commander and added, “Long gone. Ye ain’t gonna find him even if ya tried.”

“Wrong answer,” The Commander replied, his anger no longer hidden. He motioned to someone standing nearby. Ray’s face was illuminated as he stepped closer to the Commander.

“Private Raegan Schmidt has kindly filled in the details,” The Commander explained, resting a hand almost proudly on Ray’s shoulder. He continued, “I know exactly where Kent Neilson is, Colonel. I also know that this makes him a deserter and you, an accomplice - a crime punishable by death.”

“Now, I’ll give you another chance,” He said. “I’m feeling quite.. Merciful.”

“I don’t want yer brand o’ mercy,” Willy replied. The Commander responded with a small “hmph”, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Colonel, someone needs to teach you to watch your tone,” He stated. The Commander then nodded towards the back wall and another figure approached. Willy felt the pain before he even noticed the movement: a sharp, abrupt pain spread throughout his face. A harsh object - similar to a human fist - collided with his nose. He grimaced, though he only glared in the commander’s direction.

“I am truly sorry it has to be this way, William,” The Commander spoke, watching as another punch collided with Willy’s nose - causing a small stream of blood to trickle out his left nostril. He continued, “You would’ve made such a great ally. We could’ve even been… acquaintances.”

Willy scoffed, shaking his head. He looked at the Commander - his eyes filling with hate. Another punch, more blood, yet Willy no longer cried out in pain. He was done bowing down to this man. He had to confront him, and he had to do it now. He spoke, “Yeah, an’ I would’ve ended up like all yer ‘acquaintances’ - dyin’ because I was in yer way. Just another thing for ya to get rid of.”

“Whatever do you mean-?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Willy replied, narrowing his eyes, “Don’t you, Vincent?”

“How did you-?” The Commander - Vincent - replied, his face paling as the name slipped past Willy’s lips.

“I have my ways,” Willy responded, his determination creeping back in. It was clear that he hadn’t expected Willy to know his name. “Ya didn’t want anyone findin’ out, did you? Didn’t want anyone makin’ connections. Didn’t want anyone threatenin’ yer power.”

“So.. ya got rid of them. Both of ‘em. Didn’t you, Vincent?” Willy stated, shaking his head in anger. “Had yer own son killed - just to save yer damn reputation. You make me sick.”

“Stop with these.. Wild accusations,” Vincent replied, defensive. However, it was clear Willy had gotten under his skin. He smoothed his expression and added, “Besides, even if these were true, you have no proof.”

“Eh?” Willy asked, raising an eyebrow. His lip quirked up in the corner, forming a small smirk. He spoke again, “Don’t I, though?”

Vincent eyed Willy warily. Willy swore he saw the smallest bead of sweat form on the Commander’s brow.

Willy chuckled, fighting against the arms that restrained him. He shook his head, looking at Vincent before speaking once more, “What’s wrong, Commander? Ye ain’t… afraid, are ya? After all, if what I’m sayin’ is…’wild accusations,’ ya have nothing to be worried about, eh?”

“I am not afraid,” Vincent replied, clenching his jaw. A vein protruded in his forehead. He spoke again, through gritted teeth, “You have nothing. You are nothing. No one will believe a word you say.”

“Oh, but it ain’t just words, Commander,” Willy replied.He managed to free one of his arms and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out the tape recorder - one that held every order and conversation he had with the commander for the last two weeks. He also had the small nameplate - something he made a copy of before locking the safe all those days ago.

“This nifty device contains all the ‘proof’ they’ll need,” He spoke with a nod. Several murmurs filled the room and everyone glanced around warily. Willy added, “And, the cherry on top? It’s all in yer own words.”

“You-.. you’re lying,” Vincent replied, though the calm demeanor was slowly melting. HIs face paled - stricken with panic.

“I don’t make a habit o’ lyin’, Commander,” Willy retorted, his face contorting once again, “though, I’m sure ye wouldn’t know anythin’ about that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel,” Vincent replied, clenching his fist.

“Don’t I?” As the words left Willy’s mouth, the commander seemed to snap. He lunged forward, gripping Willy by the collar and hoisting him off the ground.

“No,” Vincent answered, “You don’t.”

“Then ya don’t mind me telling them about yer son, do ya?”

Vincent glared, though he attempted to remain calm. He spoke once more, trying to convince them, “I don’t even have a son.”

“Ah..” Willy piped up, a short chuckle slipping past his lips, “Then I suppose tellin’ yer full name won’t matter, huh?”

“You-”

“Admit it,” Willy urged, “Admit ya have a son. Admit ya killed him.”

“I did no such thing. I have no son.” Vincent spoke, his voice full of hot anger. He glanced around, noting the crowd’s response to his behavior. He set Willy down and cleared his throat before speaking again, more calm this time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Colonel.”

Willy sighed, shaking his head. “Ya always choose the hard way, don’t ye?”

Willy fished around in his pocket, taking out a small crumpled piece of paper - a copy of Lee’s enlistment form.

“In my hands, I have the enlistment form of former Private Vincent Leegland - whom you all know was reported dead just yesterday,” Willy started, holding up the form and earning a chorus of “oohs” and “huhs”from the crowd. He brought out the nameplate and continued, “and in my other hand, I hold the nameplate of yer esteemed Commander.”

Willy took a deep breath, letting a wave of courage overtake him once more. He carefully turned over the nameplate and held it towards the crowd. He read it off, “It reads ‘Commander Vincent Leegland.’ What I didn’t mention was that, on Private Leegland’s form, his name is listed as ‘Vincent Leegland Jr.’.”

A chorus of gasps filled the room and Vincent visibly tensed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Vincent spoke, trying to veer the situation back under his control. He pointed an accusatory finger in Willy’s direction and spoke, “What matters is he is an accomplice to a desertion. He helped a soldier escape his trial.”

“I only helped him escape,” Willy started, grimacing as he just admitted to aiding a desertion. He kept speaking nonetheless, “Because ye were going to convict him of a crime - a crime he didn’t commit. A crime you committed.”

The crowd stirred once again, clearly getting antsy from the tension in the room. Vincent was losing. He knew it, too. He couldn’t stand it.

“I should bring you to trial,” Vincent spat, his calm persona vanishing once again, “I should tell the others of your deeds.”

“An’ I should tell ‘em of your treason,” Willy retorted, shaking his head.

As the words left Willy’s mouth, anger bubbled in Vincent’s chest one more. He reached over, lunging for Willy’s shirt once more. He gripped it tightly, pulling the man close to his face.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, Colonel,” Vincent growled, his voice barely audibly - yet seething with raw hatred.

Murmurs filled the crowd. Treason? What treason? The Commander committed treason? But he is so great - practically a saint!

Vincent glanced around, noted the nervous energy of everyone in the room. He was supposed to be their calm, composed Commander - the one who had control, the one who had power, the one who was admired, the one who was feared. Yet, upon watching Willy speak to the commander this way, the onlookers seemed uncertain. This was their commander, yet he appeared weak, cowardly. Vincent was losing them. He couldn’t let that happen. He sighed, reigning in his emotions and a wave of false composure washed over him once more.

“Look, Colonel,” Vincent started, his voice layered with flattery. “We can work this out civilly. I can be merciful, I can be kind, you’ll see.”

Willy scoffed. He pursed his lips and spat - a wad of slick, sticky crimson mixed with a tooth launched from his mouth and onto the commander’s face. He spoke calmly, “I said I don’t want yer mercy - or yer kindness.”

Vincent grimaced, gritting his teeth harshly enough Willy could almost hear them grinding in restraint. He let one hand go, briefly loosening his grip on Willy’s shirt, and wiping the gunk off his face. In this moment, Willy reared his head back before bringing it up harshly - abruptly headbutting Vincent in the nose. He stumbled back - gripping his nose with a groan, causing Willy’s shirt to drop from his hands entirely. As the commander was distracted, Willy once again reached into his back pocket and pulled out the recorder.

“Ye want to see how great yer commander is?” Willy asked, though he didn’t expect an answer. He stood on a nearby crate and raised the recorder of his head, “I’ll show ya just how great he is.”

He paused, waiting for someone to try and stop him. No attempt was made. Willy pressed the small play button and the commander’s own words began playing - revealing his plan, his treachery, and even how he ordered the death of his own son and how he tried to frame Willy and Kent for it, all to save his reputation.

After he recovered from his daze, Vincent was furious. He approached Willy, anger swirling around him. However, he was stopped by two sets of hands - the same hands that restrained Willy earlier.

“What are you doing?” Vincent growled, his voice almost condescending. “Move.”

“We don’t listen to traitors,” one figure explained, crossing their arms firmly over their muscly chest.

“Or murderers,” the other piped up, disgust clear across their face, “Especially not those who turn on their own flesh and blood.”

“Men.. There is no need to be hasty,” The commander attempted to reason, his calm, commanding persona trying to creep back in.

“I just want to talk to Colonel Dodgens. I’m sure we can reach a..” He grimaced, gritting his teeth, “Civil conclusion.”

“You hearin’ this, Willy?” One of the figures called over their shoulder. “What do you think?”

Willy thought for a moment. He had the power in this situation: he could absolutely ruin the commander, he could send this recorder to the hirer ups, he could even become the commander. But, looking at the commander, seeing how the power corrupted him - made him a cowering, weak man who would hurt anyone to keep a sliver of control. Willy hated that sight. He didn’t want to become like Vincent. No, he had a better idea.

“I’ll hear ‘em out, lads,” Willy said, motioning for them to part and let Vincent through, “But I’ll be makin’ the demands.”

“Fine,” Vincent replied, a sigh slipping past his lips. He approached Willy, though he was stopped before he could get too close. “Name your price. Anything you want - it’s yours.”

Willy thought for a moment, pursing his lips together. Eventually, he spoke, “I want ya to forget about Private Neilson’s desertion. Expunge it from his records - burn ‘em if you have to, but no one will find out Kent Neilson deserted.”

“Done.” Vincent replied reluctantly, crossing his arms.

“One more thing,” Willy started.

“Which is..?” The commander replied, bored.

“Give me an honorable discharge. Let me go home an’ put this nonsense behind me. I promise that I’ll be outta yer hair. I won’t even think about comin’ back. Sailor’s honor.”

Vincent thought for a moment, his lips forming a thin line as he debated the options before him: attempt to have Kent and Willy jailed, only to have his own crimes brought forward, or let them go - forget the entire thing ever happened. It wouldn’t fix the damage, but it would prevent any more. Vincent looked at Willy, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “If I grant these requests.. You’ll give me any proof you have?”

“If it guarantees Kent’s safety.” Willy responded, nodding. “That lad.. He ain’t a criminal. He ain’t a monster. He’s got a good heart. He’s got a future. I won’t let ya take away the future of another boy - not after Danny, not after Lee.”

“Consider it done,” Vincent replied finally, giving a curt nod. “Pack your bags, William Dodgens, you’re going home.”

Willy stepped off the crate and approached the commander. He stuck his hand out, sealing the deal with a firm handshake.

“Now.. the recorder?” The commander demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.

“Heh,” Willy chuckled, shaking his head, “I ain’t that gullible, Vincent.”

“Urg-”

“Don’t worry, ye will get yer little recorder,” Willy reassured, waving his hand dismissively, “After you hold up yer end of the bargain. I’m not lettin’ ya weasel your way out of this - not again.”

…

“All that really happened, Willy?” Kent asked, his face contorting in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“Aye, ye better believe it, lad,” Willy confirmed. He chuckled and pointed to his nose, which was now crooked, “Even have one hell of a scar to prove it. Me poor sniffer hasn’t been straight in..oh… fifteen or so years.”

“Anyway, after makin’ sure Vincent held up his end of the bargain, I gave him the recorder,” Willy explained, turning his attention back to Kent.

“Why?” Kent asked, shaking his head, “Weren’t you worried he’d destroy it?”

“Ah.. I knew he’d destroy it - even watched ‘im chuck the damn thing into the flames, along with yer desertion records.. But I did it to make sure ya would be safe, Kent. Haven’t you ever wondered why no one ever came after ya, despite you committing a serious crime?”

“Hmm,” Kent mused, pursing his lips together in thought, “Now that you mention it..”

“Ah, it doesn’t matter,” Willy replied, once again dismissing the train of thought. “After I watched the papers turn to ash, I packed my bags.”

“That’s where I found that picture of ye and yer friends, you know. Must’ve taken that thing the day you arrived, kept it on me bedside for the longest time. Realized it was only right for ya to have it, I did. So, I sent it to ya.”

“I remember that!” Kent replied, nodding enthusiastically, “I still have it. I hope it didn’t get damaged in the move..”

“Hey, Willy?” Kent asked, thinking deeply about the photo. He remembered receiving it, but no other communication from Willy. “Why didn’t you respond to my letters?”

“Eh?” Willy asked, raising a brow, “I didn’t receive any letters, lad.”

“What?”

“Ah.. ye probably sent ‘em to the camp, didn’t ya?” Willy asked, nodding solemnly. “Aye, I was already long gone. Moved back to the comfort of this town. Though… knowin’ Vincent, he probably used anythin’ with my name on it as kindlin’ fer his fireplace. Sorry, lad.”

“Ah, I see,” Kent replied, giving a glum nod in Willy’s direction. He went silent for a moment. He glanced down at the water, watching the colors swirl and shift into familiar yet distant faces. He muttered softly, “Would you have replied..? If you received them, I mean..”

“To every single one.”

The two stood in silence for a moment - sharing an understanding look. Eventually, Willy glanced towards the town - he looked at the blue house in the distance, watching the hustle and bustle of movers as the small family tried to get settled. He watched as a lanky teen - one who resembled a much younger Kent - placed an anchor over the door.

“Say, Kenty boy,” Willy asked, turning his attention back to the man across from him. He continued, “Who replaced me, anyway?”

Kent raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“As the leader of the naval forces,” Willy clarified.

Kent went silent for a moment. Eventually, he turned and revealed the small nameplate and badge on his uniform jacket, “That would be me.”

“So.. what do they call ya.?”

“Colonel Kent Neilson - commander of the naval forces.”

“Atta boy,” Willy replied, reaching over and placing a firm hand on Kent’s shoulder. “I always knew ya could do it.”

“So.. what about you, Willy?” Kent asked, glancing around at the small shop behind him, “How is life treating you?”

“Eh, I can’t complain,” Willy replied, giving a curt nod. He motioned towards the shop, “I’m runnin’ me Pappy’s old shop. I think the life of a fisherman is much more my style.”

Kent nodded. He could infer that much. He was about to switch the topic when Willy piped up once again, “That’s not all, though.”

“Oh?” He asked, looking at Willy with intrigue.

Willy chuckled, a small smile forming across his lips, “Even got meself a nice lad. Name’s Marlon - he’s a real fighter. Probably seen as much combat as I have. He reminds me of an old friend.” Willy nodded to himself, pursing his lips together, “Got the same fightin’ spirit as yer Pappy, he does. Same heart, too.”

“Well,” Kent replied, sharing Willy’s smile, “I’m happy for you, Willy. I’m glad you found someone.”

“Ye as well, Kent,” Willy replied. He nodded towards the small family a few feet away. “Ya got yerself a real nice family, son. I’m proud of ya - yer Pappy would be, too.”

“Yeah,” Kent said, a small smile forming on his lips. He looked towards his family - his gaze full of love and adoration, “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“Heh,” Willy chuckled, shaking his head, “Luck ain’t got nothing to do with it, lad.”

“Huh?”

“Yer blessed, Kent.”

Kent went silent, thinking. He thought about his family - about how much they meant to him. He thought about Jodi - about how he thought he was the luckiest man in the world, about how happy he was to call himself her husband. He would give Jodi the entire world - all she had to do was ask for it. He would do anything for each and every one of them. He will do anything for each and every one of them. Because that is what you do for the people you love.

“Yes,” Kent nodded, turning back to Willy with a wide grin, “Yes I am.”

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