Chapter 13.

"Tick Tick Tick. I've always hated your name," Magnus said. "My Mum – Lord Rest her sweet soul – always said that it's important to have a good name. A good omen. But every time I hear yours it's like the clock's ticking down for you. Tick Tick Tick."

We were walking down a corridor, a white tube that went on forever. White doors on either side of us, small glass panels in their center showed off men, women and children strapped to the floor. The Gatekeeper's jail cells, where they use white torture to break you. I was in here once, and I wish I could forget.

Doctors and Guards walked past us, giving Magnus a wide birth. I was screwed. I could feel it, you get a gut feeling for these things when you grow up around people who push drugs around the country. Every instinct I had screamed for me to escape. But I couldn't. By legs kept dragging me onwards, following the psychopath in a suit.

This was Dan's fault. If he had just not come to the Gray I wouldn't be stuck between Hera and Magnus. If he had just listened to me for once he wouldn't be a Rogue. And he was just living it up with Kira in her penthouse doing God knows what whilst I was here playing guess the omen with Magnus. But that was Dan's problem, he never listened to me. Always so stubborn and free spirited. I know he's just pretending to be happy right now so he could coax Kira into helping him find his mum.

So damn single minded. That's why I can't tell him anything. It was always him with an issue, always him complaining about this or planning to do that. It was never 'How can I help you out, Tick?' It was always me helping him. God, the lengths I've gone to with him because he heard a rumor about a black haired woman with blue eyes. And I've been there when he doesn't come any closer to finding her. But he wasn't there for me when… No. That wasn't his fault, wasn't a Dan fault.

It was a Tick problem.

"Why the long face?" Magnus said, slapping my back with a heavy hand. "You're normally happier and more energetic than this."

I shrugged and avoided his smile. No point acting anymore. Everything's hit the fan for me.

We had stopped in front of a door, the number 98 painted beneath the glass square.

"What … what are we doing here?" I muttered.

He chuckled and swiped a card in front of the door. It buzzed open and revealed a dentist like chair facing a window. The room beyond the window was bright and empty, the walls and floor padded.

"Go on, take a seat." He pushed me towards the leaned back chair.

I sat down and faced the glass. Lungs seizing up, foot tapping against its rest. I'm scared. Scared because I know what's coming. Scared because the last time I was here Ben was here too, and only one of us left that day.

The door buzzed shut again, Magnus stood in front of. He leaned against the glass and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. "How well did you do in history class, Tick?"

"I never went to school." I dug my nails into the leather, he had several pounds on me and the door was shut. I still had my knife. Just had to wait for him to turn around. But that's stupid, guards would be waiting for me as soon as I opened the door.

"Surprising, considering how well you do gathering information about the Rogues," he said. "Guessing all that work with the cartels helped you out more than you know."

Sure. Helped me out. That's the word I would use.

"But unlike you, I did go to school." He put a small gold coin into his palm, a bearded face looked up wards at the white ceiling. "And I was fascinated by history. Engulfed in it. Especially the world wars, the second one to be exact."

He flipped the coin, it landed heads up.

"And there was one man that intrigued me the most, can you guess who that man is?" Another flip, another heads.

"Hitler?"

He chuckled, sharp white teeth matching the room. "You would think so, but no."

He stared at me, one palm facing up, the other in his pocket. The room behind him was still empty, the cold making every breath hurt.

"He was a smart man. Came from poverty. A real hard worker, a product of a strong will," he continued. "And just like you he rose to the top. Any ideas yet?"

I shook my head. He nodded and flipped the coin: heads.

"A man that people could trust. He made many connections. A true man to his word and had his allegiance straight. That was until the war began brewing," he said, moving a step closer. "Is it tense, Tick? Between us and the Rogues? Is anything brewing?"

"Not anything I can tell," I whispered.

He leaned forward, his face centimeters from mine. "Alfred Redl. That was his name. A colonel in the Austrian army, and then when war broke out he broke the trust of his own country. Do you know what he did?"

I shook my head, blood rushed in my ears, his aftershave burning my sinuses. The knife was reachable, his throat was open, and his eyes were locked onto mine. This was a chance. But I couldn't take it. I just couldn't. Dan's face kept coming to me. If I cut Magnus' throat right now I'd never see him again. And I can't do that to him. I always helped him because he was important to me, he wasn't selfish. I was the selfish one, putting him before anything and everything.

"He began telling the Russians about the Austrian army's plans," he said, backing away from me. He stood behind the leather chair and put his hands on my shoulders. "Can you imagine that, Tick? Five hundred thousand soldiers died because of one man. That's a quarter of our own Gatekeeper population being killed by just one person. It would be crippling. Devastating."

My voice caught in my throat, he squeezed my shoulder. His rings bit into my skin. "And I asked my teacher, 'why would someone do something like that?' and she gave me a bullshit answer. So that night I tossed and turned and it came to me. Betrayal comes from love, Tick. It comes from love."

"Love?" I wheezed. His hands were getting closer to my neck, thick fingers digging into my shoulders.

"Yes. Love. You see, love brews hate, and hate brews love. That man loved his country so much that hate brewed for the Austrians. Lord knew he was actually a Russian spy."

His hands hovered around my neck. He flipped the coin near my ear, the snap of his nail and the metal coming together echoed through the room.

"Are you a Russian spy, Tick?"

The question smacked into my chest. He chuckled as he heard my breath catch.

He let go of my throat and stood next to the leather chair, he stared into the opposite room. A grim smile drawn on his lips. "It took me a day to put the pieces together. You told me two hundred Rogues would be there, lo and behold there were only a hundred. Only twenty of them actually died, the rest of them are in critical conditions. But they should live, considering the money that bitch Hera has."

He walked closer to the glass, his reflection glaring at me. "And I asked myself, why would Tick do this? After all, we were the ones who saved you from those cartels. We were the ones who gave you a home. Gave you food and warmth and friends. Then it clicked. Love. We brewed our own hate when that friend of yours was butchered in front of you because he tried to escape. What was his name again? Jerry? Ryan?"

"Ben," I spat. "His name was Ben."

"Ah yes, Ben. Now he was brilliant. Intelligent and witty, extremely street smart. And you loved him so much so that you turned to the Rogues after you killed him because your hate for us was so strong. That damn cycle: love and then hate and back to love."

I sat up in the chair and shouted, "I wasn't the one who killed him."

He waved a hand through the air. "And the most entertaining part is that you found a new Ben. That black haired boy. The boy with Bacchus' eyes. Eye I should say. He's a carbon copy of Ben, bar the skin color of course. But the street smarts and his wit are excellent. The Stray can't be a fool after all."

I lunged at him. He swatted me away, his backhand connecting with my jaw. I stumbled and fell against the padded wall, he sauntered towards me and pressed his heel into my hand. I roared and tried to tug it away, but he just dug it in more. A smile washed over his face, a proud smile,

"But I like you Alfred." He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. "So I'll give you two options. I need the unit, and our dear friend Stray can help us with that."

He pulled me to my feet and dragged me across the room. He pushed my face against the window, a boy sat in the middle of the room. He was skin and bones. His skin leathery and pale. A black bag covered his head, an armed woman stood in the corner of the room – a rifle trained on him.

"Option one: I put you in that room with that thing and you defend yourself until you're eventually ripped apart," he put his mouth closer to my ear, "or you can go and ask your friend Stray where the Unit is. If you bring it back to me, then this whole thing would be over and I'll forget about it. You can live with Stray once we take over the Gray. You and him and all your other little friends over here. Wouldn't that be great?"

"And if I don't?" I groaned, he pushed my head harder against the window.

"Imagine how Stray would look at you after he finds out his dear friend is on the side of people who sent out a drunk to massacre a thousand people. He'd never even look at you again. He'd hate you for orchestrating the massacre."

"I didn't orchestrate it!" I roared.

He slammed my head against the glass, blood exploded from my nose and the world shifted. The boy looked up from the other side, the black bag shifting.

"Considering you had a week's chance to tell everyone about that coming attack and didn't do anything about it washes you in the same red as all those bodies. You're a mass murderer Tick. I doubt Stray would take that lightly."

Tears mixed with blood and ran down the window. My head pounded, my breaths were fogging up the glass. Giving up the Unit – whatever it was - wasn't that good of a deal. The way Hera spoke about it made it seem like something earth shattering. These pricks can't win this war. For Ben they couldn't win this war. For Dan they couldn't win this war. I can handle myself against that thing in there. Fuck Magnus. Dan would forgive me, he'd understand. I just wish I had said something to him the last time I saw him. Even a simple smile. Like the good old days.

The thing in the other room tore the padding underneath it, gnarled nails digging through it like it didn't exist.

"Huh, so you're picking the fighting option?" he chuckled. "You're pretty easy to read when you're emotional."

He nodded towards the woman with the rifle. She crept towards the boy. She yanked off the black bag. It was Ben. No, not Ben. Something that looked like him. It was the same dark skin, the same nose stud, but there was something wrong with him. His eyes were dead and gray, his face looked stretched.

I squinted through the tears and blood. That face didn't belong on that body. It was sewn on just before the ears. It was grisly work, blood still oozed from the gnarled stitching. It was a face too small for that head, pulled and stretched until it fit.

My shoulders sagged. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the face had burnt its way into my memory. A person that didn't know me, a person that wore Ben's face. That's what this sick bastard wanted me to fight. He wanted me to fight a memory, and if I managed to kill it I'd be killing Ben's memory.

"I knew you were a reasonable man, Tick," he whispered. He let go of me and I fell to my knees. My head pressed against the padded wall, the cushion bleaching red. He forced my hand open and placed something cold in it. "Flip it, Tick. It could bring you good fortune."

I looked down at the gold coin. I wanted to throw it away. I wanted to tell him to stuff it up his. But I was too tired. Too beaten. My time had ticked down. I flipped the coin: tails.

I heard Magnus snap his fingers. The bark of the rifle shook both rooms, Ben's high pitched wail cut off abruptly.

**

I was on top of one of the housing units. A gray block that couldn't be any more different from the hundreds of other buildings next to it. They were a wall, blocking the view into Gatekeeper territory. A wall telling Hera that she couldn't attack them without killing innocent people. I doubted Hera cared about killing innocent people. She was a war dog. Only wanted power and control, and if the cost was a few hundred bodies, she'd just chalk it up to God's work. Another psychopath.

I was sitting close to the edge of the building, my feel dangling off of it. You could see the Gray from here, its skyscrapers and monorails running around the city. The three bridges connecting the Gatekeepers Island to the Gray were fingers stretching into the distance. The murky water below them sloshed into the horizon.

I hate everything.

Screw the Gatekeepers. Screw the Rogues. Screw mum for selling me into the cartels. Screw everything. Most of all, screw the Unit. Whatever that damn thing was anyways.

"Woah, I've never seen you brood before," a voice called. Footsteps came closer to where I was sitting, stopping just a few meters shy from the edge.

"Hey Tohka," I muttered. I gripped onto the cylinder in my fists, letting its butt burn the tip of my pinky.

"Those aren't allowed here, Tick," she giggled. She sat down next to me, crossing her legs. She was in standard Gatekeeper fashion: white slim trousers, white boots, white t-shirt. Like one of Hera's damn chess pieces.

I shrugged.

She gasped and edged closer. She was pretty. Japanese. Her parents were directly underneath that prick in a suit. I'd known her longer than I'd known Dan, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking the same way I could Dan. God what I'd do to just have a sit down with him around a campfire when he was just the Stray and nothing else.

She brought out a white cloth and dabbed it on my nose. The blood had crusted over, I didn't really care about appearances anymore.

"Did those things in the Gray do this to you?" she muttered, flipping over the cloth. "I swear those Rogues aren't good for anything in this world."

I chuckled and sucked on the cylinder. It was kiwi flavored, the nitric smoke like sandpaper down my throat. Only two people in Gatekeeper territory had ever been in the Gray. Magnus and myself. Everyone else here was just fed propaganda about the city: the Gray was a beautiful haven for technology and piece that the Rogues had ruined. To them they were savages, closer to the Berserkers than normal people.

And I couldn't tell her anything different.

She stuffed the cloth into one of her pockets and pouted. "Aren't you angry at them?"

More than you know.

"It is what it is, I guess," I muttered.

She sat back on her hands, her eyes locked onto the city in the distance. "I joined the Guard unit, by the way."

"What?!" I stuttered.

She grinned. "Yeah! Casper and I did it at the same time. You know how he gets, always so protective."

I rubbed my temples. I had been getting more frequent headaches lately. Lack of sleep. Too much on my plate. If she joined the Guard unit she'd eventually be sent into the Gray once things went over the cliff. She'd just get butchered by Hera's soldiers.

"I…thought you'd be happy," she muttered, her mouth tugging down on its edge.

"No, no. That's … fantastic, Tohka." I finished the cylinder and switched it off.

"Here's where you guys are!" I heard boots knocking against the concrete. I didn't have to turn around to tell it was Casper. His brown curls bounced to a stop next to us. "Woah. What happened to you?"

"Those damn Rogues. Can you imagine what Tick must have been through with them?" Tohka said, rubbing my back.

Casper was short but blocky. Loud and proud, as bold as they came. A complete contrast to Dan.

He sat down, calloused hands patting my back too. "Don't worry, man. We'll get them back for you."

Fighting. Always with the fighting. Just once, could someone not want that? Dan never wanted to fight. He just wanted to do his own thing. He wasn't as carefree as people thought, but he was free spirited. But now he was with the rest of us.

He had once told me something his mum always used to tell him. What was it? An apple tree. That's what he was, an apple tree amongst weeds. And I was the weed that had pretended to be a friend, but I'd been suffocating him from the start.

Screw Tick. I hate Tick.

It isn't even my real name.

"Is everything okay, man?" Casper asked, a grin on his face.

"Yet you sound just like him," I whispered.

"What?"

"Never mind," I grunted. I stood up and stretched. May as well have fun while it lasts. "You guys wanna go out tonight? My treat."