"He introduced himself as DELIVERANCE. He understood our past and wanted to make a difference. And he convinced us to join a revolutionary party called the Bracks. The symbol represents the Freedom that Bracketers only dream of."

"His name was DELIVERANCE because he promised to Deliver the Brackets from Astellian control, I presume?" Decha narrowed his eyes, and Jamison nodded, confirming his suspicion. "Did the Bracks have anything to do with the bombs? How big is the organization?"

"I didn't. My job was only to spread the word and hand out fliers. They were seen as obstructions of peace by Generals, so I had to smuggle them around the city after work. After I did my job to distribute the message, I got paid." Jamison frowned, "When I learned about the bombs, a lot of us started to question Deliverance's sanity. But he promised that no one would be hurt. Our protest was peaceful."

"Wait, so the Bracks didn't want to bomb our shops and buildings?" Decha snapped.

"No. We wanted to petition against the Council originally. But plans changed, and most of us had to adapt to the tech produced to continue serving him."

"Tech? He provided you with Tech?"

"Under Kilos. I started getting suspicious, but Deliverance threatened me. And I looked up some information on the guy. My research led me to believe that this guy wasn't some caring man. He was greedy. He wanted to use the Bracks as a tool to accomplish his goals. He never cared about the Bracketers, and the Collapse of the border proved that."

"Where were you on the day of the Borders Collapse?"

"I had just crossed the border, going after Rory. One of my colleagues at the butchery told me he saw her crossing. I went after her, and by the time I crossed, the bomb went off. I barely escaped,"

"How did you survive? We looked at all the bodies, and no one saw you. There was no way you could've gotten past all that rubble without being spotted."

"Deliverance's team saved me."

"He was at the scene?"

"No," Jamison shook his head. "His team. No one has met Deliverance up close. But when I found out that the Walls collapse also killed Bracketers, I just felt like it was all wrong. Deliverance contacted us all by letter, telling us it was collateral damage, and that the Astellians were at fault for not prioritizing our safety as they did with their own. And the people who are part of the Bracks completely fell for that bullcrap."

Decha was stunned. But the details didn't explain how Jamison was able to go around undetected.

"I dropped out of the Bracks, but Deliverance threatened to hurt Rory. Somehow, he knew her. I don't know what connection they had or how they met, but he told me that he'd go after Rory if I betrayed the Bracks."

Decha thought for a moment. How would the culprit know Rory? There had to be a reason why POYO was taken. If Deliverance was connected with Kilos, then they had to be Astellian.

If the culprit was Astellian and very good at handling the tech, that also explained why Jamison could travel around Astell so easily.

But who could Deliverance be? He had to be someone superior. He must've had access to the Agency's software.

"My theory is that he's a General."

"Why do you say that?" Decha sneered. It figures that Jamison would try to blame Astell's officers.

"I just have this feeling..."

"There's just one suspicion I have about you that makes me not want to trust you."

"I don't understand... I gave you all of what I know."

"How do you know so much about Generals? Our combat system, our history, our rules, all of it. The Brackets don't teach our curriculum."

Jamison sighed. "I know this because my brother was one."

Decha's eyes widened. "You're a Hybrid?"

"No. My half-brother is... was." Jamison corrected himself with a displeased tone. "My father was with an Astellian woman before he had me. They had my brother, but his mother died when he was born. So my father remarried a Bracket woman 6 years later, and had me."

"... I'll be darned." Decha looked away, not knowing what to say.

"I grew up admiring my brother a lot. He was very determined and stubborn, very similar to Rory." Jamison chuckled at the memory. "He grew up and moved to Sector A, and he would send me letters all about his training. But... then... one day... the letters stopped coming." His eyes began to water. "I found out that he..."

Decha felt very awkward at the long pause. He was still very weary of Jamison. A single sob story won't get him to let his guard down.

"He came down with IDS." Jamison forced himself to finish. "But because he was half Bracketer, they sent him back to Sector B and our technology wasn't good enough to save him."

"Shite." Decha spat.

"Shite is too mild," Jamison chortled sarcastically. "Imagine how I felt when I found out my daughter was born with the same disease. It's genetic. Passed down from my father's side. I felt like it was ironic."

And Rory was still stubborn and determined. Her persistence was a trait that Decha despised but was amused by. It also explained why she had so much respect for Generals. No doubt her father told her these stories based on what he heard from his brother.

"I don't want Rory involved in any of this. I turned myself in to protect her. Deliverance tricked me. I originally came to the Agency because I thought he took Rory. I thought he was the Director. So I infiltrated and bugged all your systems. But then I found her file."

Jamison glanced at Decha. "I saw that you were caring for her. So I reasoned that Deliverance must be someone else. I was after him, but he sent me a letter telling me that Rory would die if I continued to try and expose him."

"Do you still have a copy of his message?"

"It's in my bag."

"Your belongings have been confiscated and sent to the Council for closer inspection," Decha grumbled. "It'll take me a few days to get a peek."

Decha knew what he had to do.

"If you can, please give Rory her medication."

"I still don't trust you, by the way." Decha grimaced. "I'm trusting Rory. But if you're lying to me about everything—"

"You'll never let me see my daughter again." Jamison grinned softly. "I know."

Decha walked to the door but paused to say one more thing. "And..." Decha turned his head slightly. "Rory is... her body is rejecting the medication."

Jamison's face fell.

"I'm telling you because she's probably been hiding it this whole time from you. But I won't let her fall victim to her condition like your brother." Decha placed a hand on his waist. "She's got potential. Her engineering skills are impeccable."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm going to protect her, even if it means keeping her away from you." Decha spat. "I don't like liars. I don't tolerate them."

And with that, Decha opened the doors and exited the cell. Theodore ran up to him the moment the doors shifted back in place. "What happened? Why did you shoot the camera? We lost the footage, and we can't use it—"

"It's better that way." Decha cut him off. Then he looked at the other cameras in the hall. For sure, someone had to have access to the Agency's systems for Jamison to be paranoid like that. "Do you have any reports of the last maintenance? For the computers and such?"

"I'll have to ask the main floor to pull them up."

"Who provides us with our equipment?"

"I'll have that information presented as well." Theodore sighed. "You sure you know what you're doing, N96?"

"We'll both have to see." Decha shrugged. "I need to schedule a meeting with the Council."

~~~

Rory was in a deep sleep. It was the first time she had a good rest in a while. And as of now, she was having a pretty darn great dream.

Who else would it be about other than Decha?

Unfortunately, it was unrealistic. The dream Decha that she was thinking of was more romantic and more affectionate. They had just gone on a picnic and were dancing under the stars. For the first time ever, she felt so carefree.

Her condition didn't exist. She could actually run around and dance without worrying about her body reacting negatively to all the movement. And Decha was a pretty darn good dancer.

He was strong and able to carry her easily. He spun her around before tossing her in the air and catching her flawlessly. Then he tugged her close. Right before they kissed, Rory heard someone calling her name.

Her eyes refused to open and she lifted her hand to stop the disturbing voice. But when her hand came into contact with something hard, she came out of her sleep. "Eh?" She moaned and flipped onto her back.

Decha was hovering over her, but her hand was pressed against his abdomen. She shrieked, and snatched her arm back, ramming her elbow into the hard arm of the couch. She whined when pain shot up her bicep. "Shite!" She snarled.

"I told you to wait for me to get back." Decha chortled, amused by her panic.

"What are you doing in my room?" Rory grumbled.

"This isn't your room." Decha's eyes roamed the living room lazily, before glossing over the couch she was laying across.

Rory pushed herself up and squinted her eyes at the digital clock on the holographic television screen. It was almost midnight.

"We need to talk."

"Right now?" Rory whined, very upset that he disturbed her great dream.

"Don't you want to hear about your father?"

Rory's ears perked up, and she was now suddenly wide awake. Her wide eyes were what Decha took as an answer. He nodded his head at the front door, silently telling her to follow him outside.

Rory quickly grabbed a coat, a hat, a scarf, and some boots that Jessica loaned her. Normally, she wouldn't want to go out in the cold. She was starting to miss the heat because there was so much snow all the time.

But she hadn't heard from her father in a long time. She had so much to ask.

"Is he okay? Did he say anything about the bombs? How does he look? Does he know about me—"

"Rory, take your time." Decha locked the front door behind her. "Don't waste your breath on so many questions."

"You know how much I talk!"

"You're skittish."

"I'm fine!"

"Your father is fine, take a breath." Decha stepped off the porch and onto the path that lead to a massive garden on the side of the house.

"Can you tell me what he said?"

"You know I can't." Decha shook his head.

"Does he know I'm here?"

"He does."

"You told him I was okay, right? I hope you told him I'm taking all my medications and that he doesn't need to worry. You did say that, right?" Rory pulled Decha's arm, forcing him to stop walking ahead of her. "Right?"

"I told him that you were safe." Decha pulled his arm out of her grasp and looked at the sky. "That's all he needs to know."

"Good." Rory hummed, relieved. She worried so much for nothing. She should've trusted that Decha had everything under control.

"Rory, I wanna let you know something about the surgery you're supposed to have."

"Mrs. Chen already told me." Rory smiled at him. "I already know I need a donor. But I'm not worried about it. I've decided to put more faith in you. It'll be fine."

"Wait..." Decha's face started heating up after hearing her heartwarming words. "It's not that easy." Decha wanted to explain that he wanted to get tested to see if he was a compatible match to donate, but he was struggling to find the right words.

Rory's attention was elsewhere the moment she saw small white flurries floating around her. It was snowing again. With the full moon shining through the clouds, it looked beautiful.

"I've never been on this side of the house before." Rory took in her surroundings. The garden was full of dormant trees and bushes, but they had icicles forming on them.

She thought they looked pretty, and could only imagine how they would look in the spring when everything started to bloom again.

Rory walked over to one of the pieces of shrubbery and reached to touch the ice. Her finger glazed across it and she flinched. It was very cold, a feeling she had to get used to.

Rory looked at her freezing hand mischievously, before eyeing Decha, who was standing behind her, distracted by the weather. Rory snuck over to him, having a silly thought. It was something she always wanted to try.

When she was younger, she used to watch the other kids do it to each other. Rory reached up and pressed her cold hand against Decha's warm cheek. He reacted by jolting away from it.

"What the heck?" He spat and turned to glare at her. Rory laughed, completely surprised by his reaction to it.

"I thought you said you don't get cold," Rory giggled uncontrollably. Her laughing overtook her. "I've never seen you jump like that."

"You caught me off, guard." Decha rolled his eyes. "It won't happen again."

"Aw come on, why are you pouting?"

"Because it's not funny."

"Of course it was! You've never done that to someone before?"

"Why would I?"

"I wish you'd lighten up a bit more." Rory's chuckles came to a slow stop and she finally let herself catch a breath. "Then maybe I'd get to know more about you."

"What do you want to know about me?" Decha raised a brow, not understanding her clearly.

"I dunno." Rory shrugged. "What's your favorite color?"

"Black." Decha scoffed.

"Because of your eyes?"

"No. I just like the way it looks on paintings."

"You like... art?" Rory gasped. She would've never known if she hadn't asked.

"I do."

"You don't seem like the type of guy who likes art."

Decha shoved his hands into his pockets before leaning dangerously close to Rory. "Then... what type of guy do I seem like?"

Rory shut her mouth and raised the scarf to her lips. Then she thought about it for a moment. At first glance, she would've assumed he was a loner or a boring General who only stayed in the gym working out.

But really, she didn't see any of the Generals having regular interests. Astellians weren't known for their happy attitudes, they were always known for putting the improvement of Sector A first. Most Astellians seemed serious, and the Generals seemed uptight.

"I can't say. Often, you surprise me. When I met you, I thought you were high-handed or domineering. I had already thought that most Generals liked training all day."

"As much as I work, I don't consider it my hobby." Decha leaned away from her. "I take it seriously because lives are at stake. I don't know what they taught you in the Brackets, but Generals typically have their own interests outside of serving the Sectors."

"Can you paint?"

"I can."

"Are you serious?" Rory gasped at him.

"When aren't I?" Decha tilted his head. Was she doubting him?

"I wanna see!" Rory grabbed onto his arm and shook it violently. "I wanna see your paintings!"

"They're stored away in the attic somewhere. It's too late to go up there and pull them out of the boxes."

Rory whined but didn't bug him about it any further. It was pretty late. Had he come back earlier, she could've probably asked to see them. "Whenever you have more free time, you have to show me."

"It won't be likely anytime soon. I may not be able to show you until after your surgery."

"You'll be that busy?" Rory wanted to know if she'd ever see him as often. He always worked. He only got home after dark. Maybe it was selfish, but she wanted more time with him.

"You already know that your father's arrest caused a massive uproar. Dealing with it is part of my job, unfortunately." Decha turned around and began walking back toward the house. Rory followed him, and she stared at his hands.

She wanted to hold them. But her mind was fighting against it. She repeated it so many times in her head that he wouldn't be comfortable with it. But no matter how many times her head said no, her body continued to reach for his arm as if swayed forward and back.

Her fingers barely grazed the tip of his hand before her foot collided with a hard stone. She fell face forward into the snow and shrieked on the way down.

Instant cold brushed against her skin. Before she could stand on her own, she felt herself lifted off the ground and placed back onto her feet. There were still soft flakes on her face, so her eyes remained closed as she tried to wipe them away.

Rory felt herself being pressed against someone and warm hands removing the flakes off of her eyelids. "You're clumsy," Decha growled at her. When Rory opened her eyes, Decha tightened the towel around her face, covering her ears and nose.

Then he took off his scarf and wrapped it around her for extra warmth. His dark eyes were narrowed and focused on what he was doing. Rory blushed while watching him.

"You can't afford to catch another cold."

"Decha, I'm still freezing." Rory lied, wanting to find a way to get closer to him.

"I just gave you my scarf," Decha frowned. "The house is not that far away. Just watch your step."

"The door is all the way on the other end—" Rory started to complain, but she shut up the moment Decha wrapped an arm over her shoulder and yanked her close. The last thing he wanted to hear was her whining while they walked back home.

Rory's face was pressed against his chest once again, and she almost melted from how warm her face was getting. She remained tucked under his arm the entire path back.

Decha felt his phone buzzing the moment he stepped onto the Patio. He released Rory and took his phone out of his pocket. It was Theodore calling him.

"Go on inside." Decha gestured to Rory and nudged her toward the door.

"Aren't you going to—"

"I have to take this call." Decha kept his eyes on his phone screen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest."

Rory unlocked the door with her own security code and walked through, but she realized she still had on Decha's scarf. She worried about him staying out in the cold. Even though he was used to the weather, she knew that he wasn't completely immune.

Rory rushed back outside and wrapped the scarf around his neck, catching him completely unaware. Then she smiled at him lovingly, before leaving him there, Decha's eyes were still wide as he tried to process her actions.

He was suddenly bombarded with the memory of what the Jeweler told him. But he brushed it off quickly before finally answering his phone. "Chen?"

"Meet me at the Agency. N95 is awake."

Decha felt the blood in his body grow cold, and it wasn't because of the snow. His best friend, Amir had finally woken up. He wasn't sure how to react, but deep down he was ecstatic.

"I'll be there in 45 minutes." Decha ended the call and sprinted off the porch and toward the large gate of his house.

~