9. Bad art

The Jackal

Hunter opened the door, searched the room, the tiny and simplistic bathroom, underneath the thin black covers and every other corner of the small square. He left the room and shut the door. Two deep breaths and he gripped onto the door handle again.

The door swung open and it was just how he left it: everything neatly folded and packed away, bathroom spotless and empty, and his brother's mask and combat knives were missing.

Hunter dropped down onto the bed and gripped his thick locks. He didn't understand it, he'd seen Dan the entire day just like every other day. He'd sat with him in the lunch hall, he'd gone on a run with him, and he'd even helped him with gun practice. Although, neither of them were any good with guns. Fallows were better with their hands.

But now Hunter's hands shook and ran through his hair. He'd taken his eyes off of Dan for an hour and he'd disappeared. Was he still mad because of the whole training thing? Hunter thought. His heart beat thumped against his skull like a timer. It beat against his head because this was the second time he'd lost his brother, it made his head ache because the last time he'd lost his brother he'd left him alone with his father. When Dan still had that pure smile and those bright green eyes, and then he'd left, and he'd lost the glimmer in his eyes and the sparkle in his smile.

There was a knock on the door and Hunter sprung up and ran his forearm over his eyes. Tohka peaked through the small gap of the door and frowned, her eyes grazing over Hunter and his brother's room.

Tohka entered the room and shut the door behind her. "What's going on? I keep hearing someone coming in and out of here."

"I was just, you know, folding his stuff," Hunter tried. She cocked her head and he bit his lip. "Have you seen him?"

She shook her head. "Not since training this morning." She folded her arms. "Which, by the way, was a little more intense than usual."

Hunter didn't bother replying to her jab. She was going to be useful, when the day finally comes, she'd be an excellent shot. Far better than himself and Dan, not like that girl he'd seen in the forest with Dan two years ago, but close enough. He'd watched her from afar during his years of wandering around the country trying to look for his brother. No scope and a target tens of thousands of meters from her, and she'd blown apart three heads with two bullets. One of the bullets had ricocheted off of a car and split one of her targets head's. He'd wanted to ask her for help, but she was a bounty hunter, not a search dog.

But when he'd seen her in the forest with his brother, he'd been taken aback. He'd learnt how to keep a somewhat straight face ever since the war, but he'd been beyond happy. So having Tohka – someone who could crack off three shots and take three lives - would be useful when the time came, and Dan had hooked her in enough that she'd be willing to go to the line with him. But going over that line would be a test, a test he couldn't hand out just yet.

Tohka cleared her throat, snapping back his attention. "So maybe next time you could go a little easier?"

"Do you like my brother?" At least a part of the test could be done right now, he thought.

A red hue bloomed in her cheeks. "No!" She cleared her throat and tugged at her collar. "I mean, of course not. You'd probably not allow me and him…I'm not saying me and him would do anything any ways."

Trust a Fallow to do the job, Hunter thought. "And what if he, let's say, killed someone. What would you do?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, I guess it depends. If it was an accident then I'd help him hide the body, if it was on purpose then I guess I'd help take out anyone else."

Hunter folded his arms. She was passing with flying colors so far, but he'd seen people pass military drills and boot camps before with their chests pumped and chins out only to lose their shit as soon as they're staring down a gun barrel. He didn't want to kill her if she choked, but if push came to shove, he'd have to what's best for Dan and Hera.

He stepped towards her, a head taller and far broader. "Would you kill Casper if push comes to shove?"

She stepped back. "What are you-"

"Answer the question, Tohka."

She shook her head. "Never. I grew up with him, I can't just kill him."

"What if you're on opposite sides when the war with the Rogues starts? Would you spare him then?"

She scrunched up her eyebrows. "We'd be on the same side. The Rogues killed my dad." She tapped her chest pocket. "He always kept a picture of me right here. Joining them would be smearing his blood on my hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about you joining them? I could have been talking about Casper joining them." He leaned in. "Or he already might be."

She snapped, "Casper would never!"

"I've seen people more brainwashed than him get spun round before."

"What…what do you mean brainwashed?" she murmured. "What are you getting at?"

Hunter may not have been the greatest chess player in the world, but he knew how to leave a trail if he wanted to. He knew how to plant and grow ideas, but how the plant would turn out wasn't his concern. She could keep digging and find out the truth about the utopia of the Island she was raised on, around friends and family that loved her, around teachers that taught her that Hera was akin to the devil and how the Rogues were destroying the Gray. Destroying the very city their great leader's grandfather had created.

They didn't teach her about the real world. They hadn't taught her about the East Coast or the beaches in the south, or the mountains and Berserkers in the north. She'd never experienced food with actual taste, she'd never felt what it was like finding a family that wasn't blood, and she'd never been taught what the oh-so-great Founder had put children through to get that damn Unit.

She could dig and find the truth. She could get angry at Hunter and call him a liar and a traitor. A beast and a twisted man, and she'd try and kill him. Or she could search for more and find the other side of the truth, and she would follow Dan past the line.

But if she paused, even for a fraction of a second, before her foot crosses that line, then the Jackal would have to do what he did best with his hands.

He chuckled and brushed back his hair. "Guess I gotta go. Goodnight, Tohka." He slid past her and out of the room, she still stood with her arms by her sides and staring at the white walls.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started down the hallway. He didn't know what to do, he could look for Dan and scour the Island, he could ask these poor brainwashed people where he was, or he could go to his least favorite artist.

He broke out of the housing unit and saw Casper sprinting towards him from a small garden. Option three would have to do, because dealing with nearly two million Casper's was going to drive him over the edge. Well, over the edge's edge. He'd jumped off of the first edge years ago.

With a sigh he started down the stairs, Casper's boots smacked against the concrete as he got closer. He was shouting something, but he'd learnt how to tune out things he didn't want to hear a long time ago. The choking darkness of the sky above him let his mind wonder as he side stepped Casper and continued towards Grace's rainbow of a glass building.

She'd replaced all the blue tinted windows with multi-colored panes, creating a glow that covered the surrounding sky scrapers and streets. She wanted to be the glow of the city, the eye catching leader that people could gaze at. She had called him on more than one occasion to watch how the people stopped and stared at the building, he'd gagged when she'd began going on a triumphant tirade on how fabulous her family was.

Even he could admit that Hera's ego had ballooned ever since Operation Black Screen during the war, but it didn't come close to how pompous Grace was. Their families had been at each other's throat for generations now, they'd once been blood, but that was hundreds of years ago before man conquered the planets around them and fed into their own chaos – burning out the earth and spreading onto other planets. And now the only thing the earth received from the stars was alcohol, gunpowder and overly inflated egos from empathy lacking artists.

He ducked underneath Casper's high kick and crossed a bust street. He was already fighting down the gag reflex, or habit, that he'd acquired after being around Grace so much. He blocked a punch and rolled with Casper's next one, letting him stumble onto the street and bringing traffic to a screeching halt. People swore at Casper as Hunter continued across to the other side.

The bubbling acid of anxiety was brewing in his stomach. Dan not being on the Island was a possibility, but that would be a tragedy. Not quite check mate, but a good step closer towards Grace's white pieces winning. And Grace had come down on him the last time he'd come back without Hera. Officially the first time he'd failed at a mission, he hated failure, but he could deal with it if it meant that Hera was still alive. Not like he'd be able to kill her easily, she was the reason his right cheek had three 'whiskers' and felt numb.

He reached towards the glass revolving door to Grace's pillar of excellence – her name for it – but Casper lunged and grabbed his forearm. Casper got his leg out in front of Hunter's, thrust the side of his hip into Hunter, and twisted. A flip. The fifth one this week. Hunter pulled his arm from Casper's grip and clamped down onto his wrists. He tripped Casper and forced him to the pavement, people gasped and muttered as they walked past the swearing Casper and bored looking Hunter.

"Ah shit!" Casper shouted.

Hunter forced his arms higher up his back. "I'm a little preoccupied right now, Casper. So maybe cut the bs tonight?"

Casper flexed his jaw. "I'm…not backing down…to you!"

Hunter sighed. "Guess I'll dislocate both of them this time." He paused and waited for Casper's submission – but nothing came apart from determination from his eyes. He knew Casper saw him as his rival, a target and a measurement. He hated failure as well, and considering it was a constant for him, Hunter liked his grit. He let go of his arms and brushed off his pants. "Another time, Casper."

Casper got onto shaky feet. "No. Right now."

"I need to go." Frustration peppering his voice.

"I said right now."

"And I said later." He didn't have his axes, but he wouldn't need them against Casper. But he didn't have his mask, either. And killing him in front of the loose crowd forming around him would complicate things.

"You're a bitch, Hunter." Casper spat at his feet.

A flicker of disgust crossed Hunter's green eyes. But he rolled off the urge. When the time came, he'd fight Casper. But it wasn't the time, he needed answers on where his brother was, and Casper certainly didn't have any.

Hunter twisted on his boot heels and left Casper hissing swear words to his back. He passed the young man at the desk who called his name, past the cleaning bots, and up the stairs. Fifty floors to climb, but he didn't trust Grace, and dying in an elevator wasn't on his bucket list. He passed by floor to ceiling paintings, each of them becoming more vibrant the higher he climbed. They began as modern pieces with barely and color to them. They eventually ended with full scale portrait pieces of Grace that she did herself – her blue eyes popping and black hair deeper than the black carpet underneath his boots, her red dress flowing like a river down her body. The final painting outside of her shut office doors was of a man hanging from a bridge, it was so well done it looked like a picture.

A picture of a man with gray hair and a shark like grin.

He didn't bother knocking. He pushed the thick slabs of black wood open and sauntered into the office. The woman with a thousand self-portraits sat with her fingers laced and in a deep conversation with a bulbous looking man. His jaw slack and a thick layer of rubbery fat lining his neck. A boy with a red metal arm leaned against the far window and feigned his interest in the conversation being had.

She looked at Hunter, a split second of revulsion spasmed across her sculpted face only to be replaced with a thin smile. "What do you want, Hunter?"

"Where's-"

She stood up and placed a hand on her chest. "Please, Mr. Kinston, excuse my manners. This is Hunter Fallow, the most degenerate piece of work that the world has ever seen."

The boy with the red arm straightened. "Did you just say Hunter Fallow?"

"Why I just did, Jin." Her smile dissipated. "So what do you want, as you can see, I have important things to do."

The boy with the red arm stared down Hunter. From his back's reflection Hunter could see the hidden pistol jammed into the back of his slim black trousers. A fresh scar was at the back of his neck, his long black hair parting at the back because of it.

"You've changed quite a bit since the last time I saw you," the boy said.

Hunter ignored him. "Dan. Where is he?"

Grace shrugged. "Don't know. Hopefully he jumped off the br-"

Hunter slammed his fist onto her desk, making the liquor glasses between her and Mr. Kingston jump. "Where the hell is my brother, we had a deal, remember?"

She tapped her chin theatrically. "Yes, I vaguely remember that deal. Helping each other bring back the Gray to our respective branches of the family." She sipped the liquor, her eyes falling on painting behind Hunter. "But, you see, I don't think you're standing up to that deal anymore, Huntsy."

He bit his tongue and let out a frustrated sigh. "Grace. Please, where's Dan?"

She chuckled. "Have you seen my new painting? The one outside?" She was talking to Mr. Kingston now, he'd been glaring at Hunter as well, but gutting him wouldn't be a plus or a negative in Hunter's eyes. "It took me nearly two months to complete it. The fool couldn't stop gasping and clawing at the rope around his throat." She sighed. "Wily old fox that Magnus."

The boy with a red arm gripped Hunter's wrist. He'd began tensing up, ready to flick the pens on her desk into her thin neck. But the boy's grip was familiar, he'd felt it today. It was like Dan's grip, sure and firm, like he knew exactly what angle and what pressure to squeeze at.

Hunter pulled his hand away and massaged his bruised wrist. "Dan."

"Alright, alright, Jesus Christ," she muttered. "I sent him into the Gray."

He felt like he'd been smacked right in between the eyes. The headache of a heart beat knocking against his skull amplified and made his stomach flip. Into the Gray, he thought. It was too early for that, Grace was ready for war, but he didn't know Hera was. And if Dan encountered someone he knows, then…this would be bigger than the problem of a war.

His brother wouldn't trust him anymore.

She cocked her head and faked a smile. "Is everything okay, Huntsy? Do you miss your little brother?"

"Maybe he's going to drown in the river and do us all a favour," the red armed boy smirked.

Hunter clenched his jaw. He knew when someone was dangerous, and this boy oozed it. Axes and mask were going to be needed for him. "I'm going to go train."

Grace snapped her fingers and the office doors slammed shut. "I don't think you will." She stood up and strode towards the large windows, the Gray a canvas in their perfect glass. "Watch the show, Hunter. Your brother is about to do something spectacular."