Rory took a deep breath, but her heart pounded when Decha came out soon after. "Thank you, again." Rory avoided his eyes. She wasn't sure what to say to him. She worried that he was angry that they had been caught at first, but his calm demeanor was intimidating her.
"When Jessica schedules the day for your kidney transplant, I'll let you know."
"It's okay, I can just ask her myself. You don't have to go through all that trouble—" Rory froze when Decha tilted her chin up to look at him with his finger. "Do you have to go back to work tomorrow?" Rory blurted out suddenly. She wished Decha knew just how flustered and discombobulated she was.
"Maybe, it depends..." Decha leaned closer to her and Rory pressed her hands against his shoulders. Whatever he was doing, she wanted him to stop. They were still in the hallway, and anyone could walk by and see them.
She had enough shame that she had to endure tonight. "If you go back to work, you should go rest!" Rory shrieked when Decha pulled her waist against him.
Decha moved in to kiss her, but Rory turned her head wondering who in the world this man was. Wasn't he the same man that hated affection? He was also the same man that said he couldn't express himself easily. So what the heck was he doing? Why did his attitude change?
"I want to start with a pure and wholesome relationship first!" Rory panicked and announced as loud as she could.
"What?" Decha paused and eyed her suspiciously.
"I... I don't know where our relationship stands! What is this? What are we doing?" Rory whined. "You tell me one thing, but then you completely act another way."
"Why are you worried about that?" Decha groaned. He thought he had already made it clear to her what they were the night before. He already explained that his protection would expand much farther than just because she has IDS.
"Because I don't think I'd enjoy it if you just abandon me for another woman whenever you feel like it. You already said you didn't care whether I was a Bracketer or an Astellian woman. And you've told me before you didn't want to get married. You also aren't... like this..."
Decha rolled his eyes.
"What am I to you, Decha?"
"You're a lot of things..."
"Can you be more specific?"
"I should ask you the same thing," Decha voiced lazily.
"I asked you first!" Rory argued. "I'm serious! I don't care how cool or good-looking you are, I still have standards—" Rory stopped mid-sentence with a yelp when Decha snatched her hand and pulled her closer.
Rory grunted when her weight was forced against his. "What are you—" Rory huffed. Decha pressed his fingers on his watch and it fell off his wrist.
Then he clipped the strap around Rory's wrist and tapped the button again. It clasped around tightly. When Rory felt the sharp accessory graze her skin, she whimpered. It was quite a painful tug.
"Decha!" Rory shouted. The pain simmered down after a second, and Decha pressed his thumb against the display. It scanned his fingerprint and a small round metal piece was extracted from the watch.
He smiled softly, satisfied by the watch locking in place. The metal piece was a disk containing all of his personal data that was on the watch.
"It's pinching me!" Rory complained.
"It's supposed to," Decha shrugged.
Rory clasped her arm in horror. "What the heck is wrong with you!?"
"Astellian tradition." Decha licked his bottom lip and observed as a dark round mark began to bruise her skin.
It wasn't only an Austellian tradition, but more of a Generals custom. During the Matchmaking program, The men who found a suitable partner were required to leave a mark on the wrist of a woman. The longer she wore the accessory the longer the mark would stay.
The mark was a representation of battle scars. Marriage, Engagement, and even regular dating was an extremely important process. There would be trials that were as painful as the mark, but endurance was required to get through them.
Although Decha wasn't interested in the thought of marriage now, that didn't mean it wouldn't change in the far future.
The watch was used for communication, but it was just a variety that was passed down in time. 500 years in the past, Ancient Astellians would use fire to burn a metal band that was to be given to a woman whom a man took interest in.
Back in those times, women had to endure more pain. The watch Astellians used was programmed not only for working and talking but could be used as bands to display the bond between two pairs.
Rory's skin was darker than a lot of women in Astell. So she'd have to wear it for a very long time for the mark to show. But this meant that Rory belonged to Decha. They belonged to each other.
Decha wasn't a romantic. But he was willing to go far enough to show her that he did consider her as much more than just a Bracket woman.
"I appreciate the gift, but please, get it off! It hurts!" Rory snapped at him.
"It's not just a gift," Decha sighed. "It's for you to stop bugging me,"
"Bugging you?" Rory scoffed. "Is asking what you feel bothersome for you?"
"I'm not good at... expressing things. You know me."
"No shite!" Rory groaned. "Why isn't it coming off?!" Rory tried to pry the straps off, but they only tightened.
Decha stared at her in silence. Instead of rebuking her for trying to discard the watch, he decided to leave it up to her to find out.
"What kind of weird tradition is this?" Rory growled.
"You'll get used to it," Decha mumbled and poked her head playfully. "I'll talk to you later, Rory. Get some rest." Decha stepped away and sauntered in the direction of his bedroom.
Rory rushed back inside her bedroom and observed her hand closely. She didn't know what to say after seeing a darn ring form on her skin. Seriously, what kind of tradition was it?
~~~
When Decha arrived at the Agency there was a large crowd protesting in front of the building. He knew why everyone was causing a ruckus. They most likely heard from a News report that the Director signed off on releasing Jamison.
The primary suspect everyone had their eyes on was now somewhat of an ally for catching the real culprit. But the people wouldn't believe it that easily. The people of Astell were very hard to convince.
The moment Decha stepped up to the entrance, a wave of reporters and cameramen approached him.
"You're an Agent! Can you tell us more about the bombing case of Astell?"
"Agent! Over here! Can you explain why the Director of the Agency decided to release the criminal? What are his thoughts on the execution? Will he follow orders if received by the Council?"
"Has the Director of the Agency really lost his mind? There have been rumors about his mental state declining!"
A camera flash went off causing Decha's eyes to dilate. His patience was being severely tested. Decha rubbed his eyes as more camera flashes flickered in his face. He shoved a few of the reporters back while trying to force his way inside.
"Agent! Is it true that this case could run on for years? What about the rebuilding of the Border? What will be the Director's comments on this?"
"Move." Decha squinted as another light blinded him. The crowd pushed against him, and he could feel his wound aching.
"Everybody, back up!" Amir shoved the group back. His tone was loud and bitter. "Are you all crazy? Do you know who this is? He's not an Agent!"
When the crowd went silent, they observed Decha cautiously. Amir pointed at Decha. "This is N96!"
"N96?" The crowd began to murmur.
"The name is familiar..."
"Do you see the 15 pins on his cap? He's a high-rank General! The dark-eyed warrior!" Amir sneered. "If you continue acting like this, you'll be liable to court!"
The crowd and reporters immediately stepped back. Not only because of Amir's words. They feared the stories of the Dark-eyed warrior. He was one of Astell's greatest heroes and was known for being a killing machine.
To see him in person was a shocker to everyone.
"That's the man who adopted the Bracket boy." One reporter whispered.
"Didn't he also register one of the Bracket Refugees under his care?" Another voiced softly.
"Shhh! He won't hesitate to kill you if you look at him the wrong way!"
"Let's go, N96." Amir grabbed Decha's arm and dragged him inside the building. When the door was shut and locked, Amir sighed. "It's been like this all day. I've never seen so much chaos."
Chaos was an understatement. The lobby was full of Agents running around or stuck to their desks answering calls from journalists all over Astell.
Decha knew that proving Jamison's innocence was going to cause an uproar. But he didn't expect it to be this bad. Amir motioned to the left, signaling that they were headed to a highly restricted area that only authorized personnel could enter.
There was an optical scanning device on the door. It traced both of their bodies before they went inside.
"Has the Director placed Jamison in anyone's care yet?"
"No one wants him. All the Agents are suspicious of the guy and I don't blame them. Even if he's not the culprit, he's still a Bracketer."
Amir paused and glanced at Decha. He realized that what he said was a bit much. "It's not to say all of them are bad, but we don't know what he's capable of."
"One thing we do know is that he's great at hacking."
"Is he?" Amir raised his eyebrows. He didn't know about that. "So the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. They're both into our technology."
"Jamison hacked into the Agency's system to find Rory's file. He was probably able to do this through Kilos. If Kilos makes the chips that all generals wear, then that could mean they're responsible for supplying our weapons, our tools, and monitoring the Agency's data."
With their current knowledge of Kilos and Deliverance, Decha knew he had to keep a tight watch on Rory, as well as her father. There was no doubt that Deliverance knew they were looking for him.
"I'm not sure how good he is, but he knows more than the basics. Oh. And I meant to ask you,"
Amir tilted his head and waited for Decha's question.
"What exactly did you find when you found the garage? POYOs tracker led you there, so I assume you all got a hold of it?"
"The Tracker was there, but the droid wasn't. There were a few Engineers there, we arrested them. But all of them say they don't know who Deliverance is. But there were tons of documents full of transactions. Deliverance paid them to build. They claim to not remember any of it though."
"What the heck?"
"It sounds strange. But when we made them take a polygraph test, all their results came out to be true."
"Either they're skilled liars, or our polygraphs were hacked. Did you check to see if there were any bugs with the Agency's overall computers?"
"We picked up this polygraph from an antique shop in Midtown. We decided to do things the old-fashioned way, to prevent further issues with the case."
Amir pointed at his wrist. "And you know what was weird? All of the Engineers aren't registered Generals, but they have the same chip we have installed."
"They do?"
"Yeah. Do you think their memory loss has anything to do with the chips? It happened to you before."
"Possibly." Could it be that those Engineers were brainwashed to do Deliverance's bidding? And it was eerie for the tracker to be left somewhere full of evidence. But POYO was gone. Deliverance usually hid himself extremely well. But not this time.
It was almost as if he was leaving evidence behind for Decha to chase after him. "We need to transfer Jamison to a safer place. The Agency is guarded but I don't want to risk there being an attack here."
"Why don't you let him stay at your house?" Amir suggested.
"With Rory? No. To Deliverance, that would be like killing two birds with one stone." Decha shook his head.
"I have a place in mind." Jax's voice chimed in from behind the two. He smiled and sauntered toward them. Amir rolled his eyes as Jax approached.
"Your idea has already been dismissed several times, N9899."
"And that's why I'm presenting it directly to N96," Jax retorted. Although the two were working on this case with Decha, they didn't get along. Jax was always distracted. Amir was impatient. They weren't a good combination of teammates.
"My father left me with his penthouse when he died."
"You want a Bracketer with a target on his back to reside in a home that belonged to a Council member? That's absurd. And we will never hear the end of it. Didn't you see the crowd outside? Do you want more of that?"
"The problem isn't that a Bracketer will be living there. All estates, apartments, or houses owned by the members of the Council are guarded by Generals. We just have to make sure they won't blabber about the case." Decha explained.
It was risky. Jamison being relocated to a penthouse would probably make it easier for Deliverance to launch an attack. Decha wanted to find a place that was safe and excluded.
Although it seemed like Deliverance was mocking them, it wouldn't hurt to be extra careful.
"Just Listen you two," Jax shook his head. "Under the penthouse is a secret living quarters. It's a luxury bunker of some sort. My father had it constructed the moment he was given a high position."
"How do you know this?"
"I've lived there long enough to know. Hear me out," Jax insisted, "No one but us knows about it. I'm the first person to tell you. If anything happens at the Penthouse, no one but us will know where Clarke is, because he'll be hidden well."
"Are you sure that the bunker is safe?"
"I'm the only one who has access. I'll give it to you too, N96. But we shouldn't tell the Director about it. It needs to be kept between us three."
"We can't hide something that important from the Director!" Amir snapped. "Can you believe this kid?" He looked to Decha in disbelief.
"Sure we can, all we do is tell him he'll be staying at the Penthouse. He doesn't need to know exactly where." Jax stuck his tongue out.
Decha thought about it briefly. It wasn't a bad idea. That was just what he wanted anyway. Keeping Jamison in an area that no one else knew about.
He knew Rory would eventually ask about her father once she saw the news, but he had to keep it from her. Hiding it from Theodore was also beneficial. If the Director of the Agency didn't know, then no one else, including the council members would not either.
"You're not actually considering it, Decha. Are you?" Amir groaned.
"I have to. This is the only idea so far that can work."
"So, you're okay with hiding it from Director Chen?"
"I'm not one of his Agents. I'm not obligated to give him full details like you, Amir. And besides, it wouldn't be the first time." Decha shrugged.
"N9899, you should tell the Director about relocating Jamison to the penthouse. Amir and I will transport him there. We can't leave the Agency from the front because of the crowd."
"Gotcha." Jax nodded and scowled at Amir. He marched by him excitedly.
"Gosh, I can't stand that kid," Amir grumbled.
"He's doing his best," Decha defended him. "He has a lot on his plate because of his test. In the future, he'll have plenty of responsibility to bear."
The three separated. Decha walked into one of the interrogation rooms, where he knew Jamison was staying. He wasn't surprised to see Jamison in the state he was in.
His lips were bruised, and his eyes were baggy. More than likely, Clark never got any good sleep. He was slouching over the table as if he were miserable.
Decha picked up a plastic cup and walked over to a water cooler that was stationed in the corner of the room. He turned one of the dials and water steadily rushed into the cup.
"Did you eat?" Decha looked over his shoulder at Jamison. "You look starved."
"I'm not hungry," Jamison mumbled lazily.
"Rory won't be happy when I tell her that you're sitting here starving yourself." Decha placed the cup in front of him. "At least drink something. If you're gonna starve yourself, don't do it while you're under the care of someone else. I don't wanna be blamed for your death."
"Is she... okay?" Jamison finally raised his head to look at Decha. "How is her condition?"
"Drink up, Clarke."
"TELL ME!" Jamison slammed his fists on the table. It started Decha so much that he drew his pistol and aimed it at the bridge of Jamison's nose.
"Let's get one thing straight, Clarke," Decha spat. "I finally managed to convince the Director to release you. But you're under the terms that you would help us find Deliverance. We're not pals. I'm still a General. You're going to show me the respect and manners you would for any other Official."
Decha was on edge. Jamison's sleep deprivation meant he could be capable of anything. Just because Rory was mild, didn't mean her father was as sweet.
"I just need to know..."
"Drink First, and I'll tell you." Decha's eyes flickered to the water on the table. "I'll keep my word."
Jamison eyed the water apprehensively, but he snatched it up and practically inhaled the fresh liquid. When he finished gulping, he smacked the small plastic cup onto the table and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"Rory is fine," Decha tucked the pistol back into his belt.
"How is she able to function without her medicine? Her body is rejecting it. Is there a way I can get into contact with her physician from Sector B?"
"We have capable Doctors here in Sector A, Clarke."
"Her Physician knows about the history of her condition!"
"We do too." Decha retorted. "Did you forget? She's a temporary resident under my care. We have access to all her medical records. Don't worry about it."
"Don't tell me not to worry about my daughter! You don't have kids! You don't understand!"
"You don't know shite about me." Decha rolled his eyes.
Although Avon wasn't his real son, he was the one to adopt him into his family. Decha knew very well what it was like to care for someone who was disabled or sick.
But Decha remembered that Jamison wasn't aware of that fact. He massaged his nose and sighed. "A Bracket herbalist has been providing us with a natural remedy that helps her get around."
"Will I be able to see her?"
"No."
"What? Why not? I'm willing to help you track the dastard who is behind all of this mess!"
"For starters, you're still facing charges for conspiring with Deliverance. You were the one who spread the news for people to join his organization." Decha shrugged. "You'll still have to go to court, but now the punishment won't be so harsh."
"Will I ever be able to see her again?"
"Eventually. But now isn't recommended. You're a hot topic right now. If all of Astell finds out that Rory is your daughter, they might form a mob and try to hurt her. And that'll only piss me off."
"Heavens... what have I done?" Jamison hunched over and placed his hands over his face. "I screwed up...I failed my little girl."
"You'll be relocated soon." Decha relaxed his shoulders. The mood in the room was awkward. Jamison was drowning himself in his sorrows, and Decha wasn't sure what to do.
"There's eyes on us in the Agency. So we can't say much here. Details about the case are only going to be touched with the basics from now on until you're safely secured in a new residence."
"I've been meaning to ask you..."
Decha's ears perked.
"Why did you decide to take Rory in?"
"No reason," Decha huffed, dismissing the question immediately.
"I've read your file before. That day when I tapped into the Agency's computers. N96, you're a killing machine. I've seen the number of people who've died by your hand. I've seen your stats. You're one of Astell's golden boys." Jamison swallowed the lump in his throat. "So why? Why would you take Rory in? You're heartless! Bracketers don't even speak your name because they fear you!"
"I'm not heartless," Decha let out a chortle. It seemed that a lot of people thought he was just a soldier without any sense of emotion. Rory did too at one point.
Rory was even surprised that he could smile and he explained to her that Generals were normal people who did this job to make a living and to protect their families.
"I take my job very seriously."
Just because Decha found it difficult to express his emotions, didn't mean he was void of them. The things he'd seen on the Outside were terrifying. There was so much gore he had witnessed while in different countries. And he hated that he couldn't forget any of those experiences.
Decha had to force himself to keep calm. The Outside gave him more reasons to have a sense of strong duty to protect both Sectors.
Maybe he took Rory in because he pitied her. Or maybe it was because of something deeper.
When the Borders collapsed, Rory's panic made him anxious. Of course, he had seen much worse, but he realized that regular citizens of Sectors A and B hadn't. To see someone else so frightened, and not being able to do anything about it was not a pleasant feeling.
Rory almost died in his arms that day. It was the first time in a long time that he felt so feeble, so powerless, so... incapable. He wasn't going to admit it. But Decha felt fear. The entire experience terrified him.
"Rory... she wouldn't have survived if I sent her to be with the other Bracketers."
"You wanted her to survive?"
"Survivors after devastation are very important. It doesn't matter whether they are Bracketers or Astellian." Decha gripped his knees and closed his legs.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah, that's all there is to it." Decha lied.
"Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Might as well. I'll be waiting here until the Director approves your relocation."
"Why are you wearing Rory's signature on your hands?" Jamison pointed to Decha's gloves.