Raven's Will

7. Hi, Gray

"What is that, then? What is so important that you would betray us? Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Jett flinched. But there was no way he was going to back down now. "I know exactly what I have done, Gray. I am doing what you can't. What Raven wanted to do, but couldn't. I am doing what all of Troit should do, but will not."

"Foolish boy," the Scout muttered. He started to move forward again, but Gray cut him off and snarled.

"Don't spout Raven as an excuse to your idiocy, boy! Don't you dare. I don't know what's gotten into your head, but just give it up and come back now. The Council will be lenient, but if you insist on continuing this - this stupidity, then ... I shall have to end you." To punctuate the point, the grey Talon drew out the hilt of his sword. He did not ignite it, but Jett got the picture.

Would Gray really go that far? 

The answer was yes. He could see it in the man's cold, anguished gaze. Despite everything, he was Troit' soldier. And what they commanded, he would do. It made Jett sad. And worried, because he did not want to fight Gray under any cost. He held no illusions - while he was quick on his feet, Gray was a veteran of war and a feared Talon.

Jett averted his eyes, unwilling to hold that gaze any longer. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it.

The other Talon was quiet for a long, long moment. Then so softly that it was barely audible, he said, "Me too."

That was when things went mad. Jett only caught a slight movement from the Scout before a small object flew at him. It instantly exploded into a dense white fog, burning his eyes and nose and choking his airway. Staggering backwards, Jett fumbled for the switch that would engage his helmet. He managed to hit it on the third try, and though the helmet enclosed his head and immediately began filtering the air, there was no time for relief.

Gray burst through the fog like a wraith, his visage masked by his own helmet. The fog writhed around his form like agonized ghosts of the fallen waiting to feast upon the next hapless soul. Terror stabbed through Jett's chest and he tried to move away, to get as far away as fast he could.

Gray's first punch missed. It cut through the air just centimeters past Jett's left shoulder with an audible whoosh. Jett backpedalled, trying to put some more distance between them in anticipation of the next punch. But it never came, for Gray spun into an unexpected high kick, the edge of his foot driving towards Jett's chest.

Jett leapt backwards. The action saved his life. Gray's foot glanced off his torso, right under his armpit. Something gave beneath that blow and Jett was rewarded with blinding pain. He stumbled, clutching the affected side, and sought out his opponent with watering eyes and gritted teeth. If that had hit him directly... it would have caved in his chest.

So Gray really is going in for the kill...

That thought scared him. And hurt, because despite their rocky relationship of lazy trainer and rebellious trainee, they'd grown comfortable with one another. Not quite friends - but comrades.
And to think that the first time he ever got to see Gray act serious was now. It made him feel rotten.

Gray began to circle around him now, moving with a feline stalk that raised every hair on the back of Jett's neck. He was wounded prey, and the only thing left was for the predator to take the final strike. Beyond the almost dissipated fog stood the Scout, who watched with a kind of detached interest.

Between the Scout and the Talon, Jett felt trapped and he tried to keep both of them in his field of vision. It proved to be an impossible task, even as he turned in place to keep Gray within his peripheral vision. He lost sight of the Scout.

Gray stopped moving, forcing Jett to leave his own back wide open to the Scout, or to turn away from the Talon so he could watch the Scout. It was a terrible situation, and Jett was having to fight down a rising panic.

Without the ability to move, he was so outclassed and he knew it. Every breath he drew sent searing agony through his side, and he had to wonder if one of his ribs were broken. Maybe it was more than one; maybe all of them sported matching little splintered breaks, and the only thing keeping them in place was the massive pools of blood that had to be collecting from all his ruptured organs.

Oh crap... how am I gonna get out of this one?

He was not expecting an answer to that question. But he got one. 

A hailstorm of small explosions abruptly blossomed around him,creating brilliant flashes of orange light and puffs of thick smoke. He jerked, eyes widening. Then he spun, searching for the source. Had the Scout done this? It couldn't have been Gray - the Talon hadn't even moved.

Someone started shouting. Sharp staccato gunfire sounded, and there were more shouts. Jett turned slowly in a circle, thoroughly confused. He pressed an arm tightly against his side, wincing with each movement. Maybe he should try and slip away....

That was when something grabbed him from behind and yanked him backwards. His vision darkened as he was pulled through the smoke. Hissing, he tried to pull away, but the person had an iron grip on his upper arm and was crazy strong. There was little choice but to stumble in the direction he was being pulled.

He came out of the smoke. His arm was released, and Jett wobbled a bit, trying to regain his bearings. Smoke was all over the place, and small explosions were just adding to the mess. Flashes of light sparked in the sky too, effectively cutting off the flyers' escape route.

As Jett stared incredulously, he caught dark shapes running through the smoke. Gray's voice roared in wordless anger, and someone screamed. Shivers ran through Jett's spine, and he gulped. Just what was happening?

"Go," a man's voice said from nearby. "Hurry."

Jett turned to see who had pulled him from certain death. And he froze, all the blood leaving his face. "Wh-what?"

"Go," the man repeated, urgency entering his tone. "We can hold them off, but not for long."

Jett couldn't have moved even if he wanted to. The man who had just saved his bacon wore a rather familiar uniform. He gaped, brain trying to process it, then managed to stammer, "You're a Kairg?"

The Kairg soldier wore a visored helmet that obscured the entire upper half of his face. As such, the sigh he emitted was rather clear. "Very good. Now unless you wish to die at the hands of an enraged Talon, I suggest you run. Now."

"But... why-?"

Gray's voice cut off Jett's words, his voice rising above all the chaotic noise. "Jett - this isn't over! I'm going to hunt you down, you hear me? You're going to answer for what you've done!"

"Oh crap," Jett gulped. Panic threatened to turn his legs to jelly, but he shoved it down. He had no idea what was going on, but there was really only one option left open for him. Well, two. One of them led to his death.

The other one wasn't much better. But he took it anyway.

He grit his teeth. And then he fled.