Laurens loved when it rained. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops sounded like music to his ears, and the feeling of the water on his skin calmed him down after day of stress. This stormy night had managed to arrive with perfect timing, too, because he had certainly had a stressful day. The rain was also helpful in the way that it made most people want to stay inside, allowing Laurens to run the track by himself, as much as he wanted to. Now, however, Laurens just sat on a crate, his mind blank. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, enjoying the crisp, cool air and pure darkness.
After about twenty minutes, he finally decided to go back inside and take a shower (he had been running in the rain, after all; he was bound to smell bad). Laurens preferred the rain falling onto him over the water from the shower. It felt different to him. He would rather feel and see and hear the outside world than have to stay put in this bunker anymore. He had spent his entire life here, so of course he was sick of it.
As he walked silently through the building, back to his room, Laurens listened tranquilly to the rain as it pelted the ceiling and walls. When he turned down another hallway, a different sound blended with the storm: crying.
Faint sobs could be heard from inside a room with an unpainted door. This was not unusual to hear, though, especially in a place like this. The Union was an underground army, fighting in a war of sorts. The people involved felt fear, grief, and stress just as much as any soldier would. Besides, this was the new kid's room. So, no, the crying wasn't what made Laurens stop in the middle of the hall, concerned.
The muffled scream did.
Laurens gently rapped on the door, the crying hiccuping when he did so.
"L-Leave me a-alone," the new boy stuttered through his sobs.
"I just want to make sure you're okay," Laurens said softly as to not wake anyone, yet still loud enough for the boy to hear.
"I'm f-fine."
"Are you sure?" There was a long silence after the question.
"...L-Laurens?"
"Yeah?" Silence again.
"...Th-The door's unlocked. You can c-come in." Laurens hesitated, not wanting to invade the boy's privacy. However, his impulse to help was stronger, so he pushed open the door, stepped inside, and closed it again behind him. Laurens instantly pitied the boy when he saw him.
The boy sat on his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his back against the wall. His eyes were red and his cheeks were stained with tears, more flowing down like miniature waterfalls. His head was resting on his arms, and when thunder roared, he covered his mouth with the inside of his elbow so the sound of his scream didn't get very far.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Laurens asked, lifting himself onto the other end of the bed.
"J-Just..." The boy sighed shakily. "Stress...memories...storms..."
"Well," John leaned back coolly, "stress and memories are just things you're going to have to deal with all your life. That's all I can really say about that, so what's with the storm thing?" The boy shrugged.
"I've always been a little afraid of them, I guess."
"Do you know why?" The boy answered almost immediately.
"The lightning and thunder are like gunshots." His eyes had gotten a bit wider; his breathing a bit heavier.
"I take it you don't like guns that much, then."
"I'm terrified of them. The only reason I could shoot one-or hold one, for that matter-is because I get angry when I'm scared. Or, I'm so petrified that I need help to calm down. Like, when you-like yesterday."
Laurens hadn't noticed the boy's quick correction of his words, instead focused on his own thoughts. He suddenly felt terrible for forcing this young, small, confused, scared kid into situations that he might be uncomfortable in. Sure, this whole place could be frightening, but they tried their best to keep everyone feeling protected. The only thing that seemed to make this boy feel safe, however, was shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. So, why wasn't he doing that now?
Laurens slowly crawled towards the boy, then sat next to him. He reached out to grab the boy's wrists, but they were harshly pulled away.
"Wh-What are you-"
"Shh...I'm just trying to help you calm down." The boy didn't move away when Laurens took hold of his arms again. He tentatively moved them down and slipped them into the boy's pocket. His rigid body relaxed, but he didn't seem to notice. He was staring straight at Laurens, confused.
"Why...?"
"You always stop freaking out when you do that. How come?" The boy shrugged again, looking as if he was fighting with himself on whether or not to explain.
Eventually, he quietly said, "I've had this sweatshirt for years; I didn't grow very much. My mom made a patch and sewed it into the pocket, mere days before I-before she...died. It's the only thing I have to remember her." Laurens nodded solemnly and politely.
"What does it look like?"
"It's just a heart. Nothing special."
"You think it's special, though. That makes it special." The boy looked down, a tiny smile threatening to appear on his face.
"Y-Yeah...I guess so." His face fell when he asked, "Why are you acting like you care?" Laurens was taken aback.
"I do care," Laurens defended. "And you aren't the only teammate I've had to help calm down in the middle of the night." The boy's dark eyes widened, darting up to meet Laurens'.
"Teammate?"
"Well, yeah."
"I've been horrible and stubborn since you first brought me here. You don't even know my name. You can hardly call me your teammate."
"I keep saying it's fine, and it's fine. You've actually done much better than expected."
"Yeah, right," the boy scoffed. He flinched when Laurens lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm serious. You're pretty cool. Even if your name is Schoolboy." The boy's cheeks faintly flushed pink, and he shied away from Laurens' gaze.
"It's not, though," the boy mumbled.
"What is it, then?" Laurens knew the boy wouldn't tell him yet, which was okay. He wanted to get settled first. Still, there was no harm in ask-
"Hamilton." Laurens froze.
"Wh-What?"
"My last name is Hamilton."
"O-Oh...okay, then." Laurens wouldn't admit that he legitimately was not expecting this. "Can I tell the others?"
"You'll kinda have to, right?"
"Only if you let me."
"Sure. Go ahead."
"Alright." Laurens finally took his hand off of the boy's shoulder, reclining back against the wall. "Hamilton. I like it."
"Thanks." Hamilton let himself smile. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
Silence.
"Hey, the storm passed." Hamilton looked up at the ceiling, listening.
"So it did." Laurens stood up, heading to the door without saying a word, then turned back around when Hamilton called out, "Wait!"
"Yeah?"
"Can you..." Hamilton nervously chewed his lip, looking everywhere but at Laurens. "Can you stay for a while?" Laurens' face softened into a grin.
"Sure." Laurens went back to where he was, sitting inches away from his new teammate this time. Hamilton stiffened when Laurens' arm wrapped around him. "Relax, kid," Laurens chuckled.
"I'm not a kid," Hamilton grumbled. Still, he leaned into the hug, resting his head on Laurens' chest.
Not too long after, Hamilton had fallen asleep. Laurens delicately laid him down, pulling the blanket over him. As he stood next to the bed, brushing a lock of hair out of Hamilton's closed eyes, a sudden urge to take care of the smaller boy washed over him. He wasn't sure why, but he decided that from then on, that would be exactly what he did.
Alexander woke up sore from his training the day before. He could barely stand because of the amount of running he had been forced to do, but, somehow, he didn't care all that much anymore. He stretched and yawned, pulling his tangled hair into a loose ponytail. He got changed, wondering when Laurens would come by to start his training.
As if on cue, a quiet knock sounded at the door. When he opened it, though, he was surprised to see E standing there, holding a box of paints and brusthes.
"Oh, uh, hey," Alexander greeted eloquently.
"Good morning!" E smiled sweetly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Um..." Alex thought back to the night before. "Yes."
"That's good. Laurens wants to meet you in the mess hall. You remember where it is, right?"
"Yeah. What's with the paint?" E's eyes lit up as a slight blush creeped onto her face.
"Oh, I was going to paint your door today, if you don't mind." Alexander blinked in surprise. He had noticed that most of the doors were covered in colorful designs, while his was plain silver. He supposed he wouldn't mind a bit of personalization.
"Okay."
"Awesome! What's your favorite color?"
"Green." E closed her eyes in thought for a moment. Alexander took his chance to step out of his room and to the side without seeming impolite. E abruptly snapped her fingers, making him jump.
"I know what I'm doing. You can go now." E set down the box, already taking out the paints she wanted. Alexander turned to leave. "Actually, wait."
"Yeah?"
"It's Hamilton, right?"
"...Yeah."
"Cool." Alex took that as a sign that he could go, so he headed to the mess hall. The room was relatively empty. Laurens had told him that most people woke up around 8 in the morning, while he and a few others got up at six. Speaking of, Alexander spotted Laurens waving him over from a table in the far corner. Alexander hurried over, sitting across from the older boy.
"I see E talked to you," Laurens observed. Alexander nodded.
"How is she so lively this early in the morning?" Alex asked.
"Early?" Laurens smirked. "It's 10:30."
"What?"
"What? Are you surprised by the concept of sleeping in?"
"No...I just...don't do that often."
"Neither do I, but I still slept in a whole half hour this morning." Alexander rolled his eyes and changed the subject.
"You already told her my name, I noticed."
"Yup. I called a meeting and everything."
"You can do that?"
"Of course he can. That's why we're here." Alexander spun around at the sound of a woman's voice. Standing behind him were three people. The first was a young man with black hair that fell onto one side of his head, the other side being shaved. The second was a dark-skinned man with a shaved head and confident stance. The third was the woman who had spoken. She was older than the others, with dark skin and brown, flowing hair.
"Ah, right on time." Laurens stood, and Alexander felt inclined to, as well. "Hamilton, you are currently standing in the presence of all four captains in the New York unit of the Union." Alex subconsciously straightened up, then cowered back when the man with black hair began laughing.
"This is the kid you've been talking about?" The man snickered. "He's so small!" Alexander glared at him and blushed.
"He's just as good as you are, Lee," Laurens stated, shutting the man up. "And we all know that small can be useful during certain missions." He winked at Alexander, making his face redden even more. "Fellow Captains, this is Hamilton. I'll tell you more about him later. First, introductions." Alex was astonished by how professional Laurens could sound sometimes. "In order of ranking after me: Lee, the leader of Squadron Red." He nodded at the man who had made fun of Alexander before. "He's kind of a jerk, as you can see." Lee scowled as Laurens moved on to the second man. "This is Burr, leader of Squadron Blue." Burr gave a quick nod, a kind smile on his face. "He doesn't talk much. Finally, Sampson," Laurens gestured to the woman. "Captain of Squadron White. She's pretty cool." Sampson gave a small bow.
"Um, hello." Alexander waved awkwardly.
"I figured I might as well let you meet them in case you end up getting transferred to a different squad," Laurens shrugged.
"If he really does as well as you keep saying," Sampson said, "then I doubt he will be."
"I hope he does," Lee mumbled.
"How much have you been told about me?" Alex asked.
"Just that you're good," Sampson answered.
"Supposedly." Sampson reached across Burr to slap Lee on the arm. Burr stepped forward to keep them separated.
"Hamilton, tell us about yourself," Burr suggested.
"Uh...I'm 19, have no family, and used to go to college. That's about it." Burr quirked an eyebrow.
"King's college?"
"Yeah."
"Me, too."
"Cool." Lee suddenly yawned, sounding purposely overexaggerated.
"Is there something you wanted to say, Lee?" Laurens asked, exasperated.
"This kid is lame." Alexander gasped at his bluntness.
"Hey! I-"
"Hamilton." Alexander clamped his mouth shut when Laurens lifted his hand. "You can go. I won't train you today."
"But-"
"Go." Laurens didn't sound angry, but Alexander decided not to test him and leave the captains in the room.
Then, he hid behind a wall to listen in to their conversation.
"He's a feisty one, isn't he?" Sampson laughed.
"When provoked," Laurens responded.
"It's not my fault he doesn't sound that great," Lee argued. "And you never said why he's 'good', just that he is."
"Lee isn't entirely wrong, Laurens," Burr said. "Your description of him was vague."
"Alright, alright," Laurens sighed. "Here's what you need to know: His IQ is one point below mine, he can think on his feet and react impeccably to obstacles, and he can plan accordingly for certain situations."
"Hamilton is smart, so what?" Lee grumbled. Alexander could barely keep from running back in there to fight him.
"Hamilton isn't just smart. He's skilled. He lasted a whole lot longer than you first could in a spar against me. Hell, he fought a Third and made it out with hardly a scratch. He can shoot with near perfect aim, dodge a blow almost every time, his punch is incredibly strong-not including his prosthetic-and his speed is steadily getting better. Not only that, but he knows when and how to speak up and/or fight and when to keep quiet and/or hide. Hamilton is good. Really good." Sampson whistled while Lee scoffed.
"Yeah, right. No way a new kid can control himself that much."
"You want to bet on that?"
"Sure."
"You sound confident."
"I am."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to guess that your pride is clouding your senses right now."
"Why's that?"
"...You do know that Hamilton has been eavesdropping behind that wall the whole time, right?" Alexander (and he thought he heard Lee, as well) sucked in a breath of shock. Once again, Laurens proved to be better than he thought. "Hamilton. Show yourself." Alexander shyly stepped into view, catching a second-long look of disbelief on Lee's face, though it quickly shifted into frustration. "I had dismissed you, correct?" Alex nodded. "Did you stay to prove yourself or to hear your ego get stroked?"
"N-Neither. I just wanted to-" Laurens cut him off.
"It's fine. Go on, explore. Talk to people. But don't try to escape this time; we do have guards."
"Right. Okay. Sorry, Sir." Alexander would have left then, if it weren't for Laurens' glare pinning him down.
"Don't call me that."
"But, you-"
"No. Don't. Just go." Alexander hurried down the hall, stopping only a few feet away from where he had been before when Lee spoke again.
"Have you noticed how much he looks at you and blushes when you talk? Haven't you told him the 'rule' yet?"
The "rule"?
Laurens didn't respond for a long time, the air filling with an oddly tense silence that Alexander did not quite understand.
"Hamilton. Leave."
Alexander left, taking that as a warning more than a command.
Alexander had been wandering around for about five minutes when a loud bang erupted from behind the door across the hall. The door was covered in stars; most were yellow, but some were striped like the French flag.
After the aforementioned small explosion, a girl's voice shouted, "Shit!" This was followed by a long bout of grumbles, hurried footsteps, and clangs of metal, then the door burst open and P's head popped out. She wore weighty goggles and an apron that was covered with just as much ash and grease as her body was. As soon as she laid eyes on the surprised and slightly frightened Alexander, she muttered, "You'll do," then grabbed his arm and yanked him into the room, the door slamming behind them.
"Uhm...hey, P," Alexander said, looking around. The room was one of the largest he had been in, and appeared to be a workshop of sorts. A desk was against one wall, covered in books, pencils, scraps of metal, screwdrivers, handsaws, welding tools, and various other tools. On the other side of the room was a curtain-covered doorway, to what Alexander assumed was P's room. Against the far wall was a metal table, on which was..."Lafayette?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're confused," P noticed, not sounding like she cared. "That's great. Now help me." P shoved a pile of tools into Alex's hands. "Oh, and watch your step."
"Why do-ah!" Alexander leapt backwards as two silver spiders, about the size of his palm, scuttled past on the ground in front of him. "What the hell?" He cried as P burst into a fit of giggles.
"Those are what I call S.S.P.P.I.I.S."
"Spies?"
"Semi-Sentient, Pre-Programmed, Intelligent Inscect Servants. They can do basically any small task I want them to do. I tried to make the acronym S.P.I.D.E.R.s, but-" Another explosion sounded, but this time Alex could see that it had come from Lafayette. Their body jolted as sparks flew from inside an open panel in the side their neck. A flame had lit within the tangle of wires. "Dammit!" P slurred together a colorful string of swears as she ran to the table to try to keep anything worse from happening. Alexander peered over her shoulder as she looked into the problematic area. She had managed to put out the fire, but was now mumbling something about "new wires" and "why were they in the rain" and "Hansel? Hamlet? Hamil-Hamilton!"
"Yes?"
"Screwdriver." Alexander glanced down at the tools he was holding.
"What kind?"
"Flathead."
"Got it." Alex handed her the correct one, then watched as she set to work. He gave P whatever she needed when she asked for it, and in a matter of minutes Lafayette seemed just about fixed.
"Buddy!" P called out. Instantaneously, one of the spiders came running, climbing up the leg of the table and stopping next to P's outstretched hand. "In the center-back region of Lafayette's neck, the right-most screw needs replacing. Can you handle it?" The bug flashed yellow, taking the screw from her. It pushed itself into Lafayette's neck, disappearing in the wires.
"This is crazy..." Alexander whispered.
"People do call me a mad scientist."
"How long did it take you to figure out all this?"
"Up to the point I'm at now?" P shrugged. "About a decade."
"How old are you?"
"17."
"17?" Alex gaped. "Wha-but-how?"
"I don't know. I'm just smart, I guess."
"How long did-" A beep cut the boy off. A second later, the spider-"Buddy", as it had been called-crawled back out of Lafayette.
"Thank you, Buddy," P said, patting the bug gently. "You can go, now." The spider scurried away while P closed the neck panel and clicked a button on the back of Lafayette's head. A faint buzz emitted from the android as P stopped back, her work done. She turned to Alexander with an expectant look on his face. "You can go, too, you know."
"Oh, yeah, okay." Alex headed to the door.
"Thanks for the help, by the way."
"Of course." The door opened, he walked out, then it closed again behind him.
Alexander meandered around the facility for a while, nothing interesting catching his eye. He saw a large clock on a wall that read 1 o'clock, and it was then he realized that he hadn't yet eaten. He decided to head back down to the mess hall to check if Laurens and the other captains were still there. He stopped, though, when he saw E still painting his door.
At least, he assumed it was his. Instead of the plain, dull silver from before, the entire door had been painted over with a crisp, pine green. Golden swirls and curves flowed elegantly over it all, each seeming to have a mind of its own. At the bottom, connected to the last curl, E was painting a realistic, shimmering, gold quill.
"Woah..." Alexander gasped. E turned to him with a small smile.
"Do you like it?" E wondered.
"It's amazing." After a few more strokes, E stood, blowing her hair out of her face.
"I think it's done." E reached down to the brush in her hand and-Alexander went doe-eyed and slack-jawed when E pulled a paintbrush out of the plug where her index finger had once been. She dropped the brush into the box at her feet, took her detached finger out of her pocket, then pushed it back into her hand. It clicked into place and bent at each joint once, as if recalibrating. "It's rude to stare," E smirked, snapping Alex out of his daze.
"Sorry, I just-" E laughed airily.
"It's alright. I'm sure, if you want, P would do this for you."
"No, I-I think I'll be fine." E laughed again as she gathered her things and stood close to him. Her face relaxed into a gentle smile, her chocolate brown eyes searching his own.
"How are you, Hamilton?"
"I'm fine."
"Be honest with me."
"I am." E raised an eyebrow, making Alexander reword his answer. "I'm better than when I was first brought here."
"Hm...okay. But if you need to talk, come find me or Laurens."
"Okay." E patted his back as she left, then Alexander headed in the opposite direction. On his way back to the mess hall, he thought about how E unintentionally knew more about him than anyone else. After all, she had taken away his... Alexander shook the thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time.
A good amount of people were in the mess hall this time, none of which were the newly met captains. Laurens was still there, however, sitting in the same table he had been at earlier in the day. Only, this time, he didn't look nearly as well. His face was flushed, his eyes tightly shut. His hands were folded underneath his chin, and his legs bounced rapidly under the table. Alex couldn't tell if he was mad, scared, worried, or some combination of the three.
Alexander quietly went up to the older boy, saying, "Laurens?" As soon as he spoke, Laurens' eyes shot open and his face somehow went even paler than it already was at the sight of Alexander. "Are you-"
"Not right now, Hamilton," Laurens muttered, his voice at a dangerously low octave.
"I just-"
"Not now, Hamilton." Alexander gulped and stayed put while Laurens stormed away without so much as a glance at him.
