I think it's just going to be a thing that Interludes will be posted with another chapter. And on that note, the plan is for there to be about six more chapters (not counting interludes). So lot more answers in the chapters to come!

Warning: Tuck's kind of crazy and there's lots of violence.

You know, the very first time that Tuck hears of the name "Rex Salazar" is way back in kindergarten.

It's not quite like they had the same kindergarten class or anything. It's more that Tuck's always been an attentive child and he over hears the teachers talk about the "Salazar kid." And well, the documentary on ninjas and samurais that Tuck watched the night before said something about how all the great lords had regal names. And all Tuck recalls from back then is the thought "Salazar is a regal name."

It's not until third grade that Tuck finally gets to meet this "Salazar kid." He doesn't know that the kid he meets is Salazar until much later, though.

Tuck walks out of the nurse's office after he nicks his eyebrow (an idiot slammed into him with a scissor, much to his irritation - not at the kid, but at himself for not being more aware). There's a bandage over it, and he's grumbling about how everyone's making a big deal over nothing (really, he's seen worse injuries at karate practice).

There's a new kid sitting in the office (Their nurse's office is within the main one. Small school and all that). He's blonde and pouting and from the way he's slouching, Tuck knows that they'll probably never get along (He doesn't know it at the time, but that's Noah Nixon and he's quite right in that they'll never get along).

And that's when Rex Salazar walks in.

His left arm is in a bright pink cast, and Tuck thinks that it's the silliest thing a guy can have. But Rex wears it proudly and gives Tuck a look of challenge when Tuck stares for too long.

"What?" he demands. "Never seen a guy with broken arm before?"

"I've just never seen a guy with a pink cast before," Tuck corrects him politely, just as he was taught.

The kid sticks out his tongue. "Yeah, well it was the only color they had and Dr. Rhodes said that real men wear pink, so there."

"No they don't," the blonde kid says, speaking up for the first time. "Only real idiots wear pink."

"You take that back!"

"Make me!"

And Tuck quickly slips out quietly while the two fight. Thinking back on it, he's the one who helped the legendary duo become best of friends (He'll also be part of the reason why the two become rivals, but Tuck isn't too concerned about that).

Karate become less and less fun as Tuck grows older.

It has nothing to do with the people he meets or the things he learn. It's... the way that karate becomes more and more like a dance routine. Everything's already set up and planned. There's no more spontaneous spars anymore. No more fun, and no more thrill. Especially since the economy's bad or whatever, and the head instructor's taken more interest in publicity rather than actual teaching of the martial art.

And that's not why Tuck wanted to learn.

He wanted to learn about the great masters. He wanted to learn about discipline and control. He wanted to learn how to fight if ever came a day that he wouldn't be able to solve things peacefully. He wanted to be able to defend himself and those he loved if ever it came to that. And more than anything, he wanted the thrill that came with greeting the opponent on the mat for a spar.

To be told so suddenly that he cannot have that is like being told to breath under water. To be told that he must learn this dance routine for the sake of publicity is like repeatedly being kicked when he's fallen to the ground. But at least if he's physically being kicked, he knows how to defend himself and how to fight back (and at least he'd have fun doing it, too). But this isn't a physical attack. It's just a psychological one that's draining him and he just feels like he's drowning, and he just can't take it.

His grades start to slip and his behavior is off. He knows it, his family know it, and his teachers know it. They're all worried for him and he's starting to get sick and tired of seeing their concern. If they're that bothered by it, then they should just back off. Them closing in on him feels too much like being dragged down lower and lower. They should just let him fight to get to the surface so he can grab a lungful of air before being dragged under again.

One day, he snaps in the dojo in the worst way. The head instructor takes it a step too far and Tuck takes it even further. He punches the guy.

It causes a huge uproar that gets his parents involved. And as much as it burns Tuck to see his parents bowing to the instructor, chanting apologizes in hopes that this doesn't become a lawsuit, he can't help but to finally understand what's been bothering him. He's been itching for freedom. All this pseudo-structure and so-called discipline is what's drowning him. What he wants is to get out of the water and fly. Let loose his punches when things go wrong. Feel the thrill that greeted him when his fist collided with the instructor's face.

He feels horrible about the whole thing, he really does. But the sudden realization that freedom is right there makes him so giddy that he can't stop grinning the entire car ride home.

"Mom, dad," he says after they finish yelling at him and punishing him the only way they know how. "I'm not going back there."

They agree readily and his dad even quietly whispers to him that he thought the instructor was an idiot who deserved the punch anyways. But what they don't know is that he doesn't mean the dojo. He doesn't mean karate.

He means that he doesn't want to drown again.

His new-found freedom takes him the bad part of town. Because there, at least he's allowed to challenge the bigger kids to a fight without ever being told no, that's not how things work in the dojo. So he clashes with the people there, throwing punches wildly and hitting the solid target. There's a strange kind of thrill every time he strikes, and he ends up falling in love with the sensation without realizing what love is.

Of course, he does this the best he can without trying to worry his family. He still goes to school and he still interacts with his family. But when the night falls, he's back on the street, fists ready and heart singing. He thinks that life is perfect. There's absolutely nothing that can happen to clip his wings. There's absolutely nothing that can drag him back down to the waters to drown.

And then Rex Salazar walks into his life.

By then, Tuck estimates that it's been about two years since his freedom. By then, the exhilaration of the high that came with being free has ebbed away. He's just hanging out here because it's fun and it gives him something to do, something to look forward to. But otherwise, he's really just going through the motions, feeling a little like he's sleepwalking when he's not fighting. Like he's just floating in air when he should be soaring. And Rex Salazar changes that. Or rather, Rex Salazar is the catalyst that wakes him from the dream.

Rex strides into the bad part of town as if he owns the place. It rubs everyone the wrong way, and Tuck's ready to help them beat up the damned kid when Rex holds up his hand and claim their attention.

"I'm looking for some bodies," he drawls with a cocky smirk, "who'll help me deliver boxes, no questions asked."

The answer to the request is met with snarls and threats, and Tuck hangs near the back with Kenwyn Jones, both of them laughing at the stupid kid who dared approach their territory. They watch as one of the bigger guys march up to Rex and growls. They watch as the big kid threatens to beat up Rex.

Then they stare in horror as Rex kicks the guy's nuts, and when the guy falls to the ground, kicks him in the face, once, nice and sharp. A loud crack echoes through the suddenly silent area and Rex addresses the rest of them with a light tone of voice.

"Anyone not going to the hospital interested in helping me?"

And Tuck awakens from the dream by the promise of danger. There's a grin on his face. He only knows that because Kenwyn mentions it later. But damn it, he's never felt this much alive since he first punched the karate instructor way back when. And Rex Salazar represents everything that Tuck thought freedom would give him. Rex Salazar becomes the wind that promises Tuck the world.

In the end, most of them fearfully end up helping Rex out, delivering the strangely heavy boxes without questions. And at the end of it all, Rex turns to them, tilts his head for a bit, and then reaches into his pocket. For the smallest of all seconds, Tuck fears that it'll be a gun and that they'll all be killed. But instead, Rex takes out two wads of $100 bills and tosses it at them.

"Share it, fight for it, do whatever you want. It's a thank-you for the help."

Then Rex is gone, and they're all baffled beyond words because why the hell did that kid have that much money? And better question, what the hell did they deliver?

Tuck doesn't bother fighting for the money or grabbing his share. He's never been in for the money to begin with. No, he's much more intrigued by the promise of danger Rex Salazar represents. The cracking sound of the kid's nose breaking echoes in Tuck's ears and he feels the faint wind at his back. He grins again.

He finds Rex in school and out of it. Sometimes, he follows him around. Other times, he actually walks up to Rex and talks to him. He cajoles, he lies, and he even throws a few punches. He does odd end jobs for Rex, never asking any questions. Any whims that leaves Rex's mouth, Tuck strives to achieve. All of this, so that Tuck can feel the thrill again (Kenwyn gives him a disgusted look and tells him to never return to the streets. And that's all fine, too. Because Tuck's finally found what he's been searching for). All of this, so that Tuck can feel alive, feel the air beneath his wings as he soar through the skies.

He does this over and over again until one day, Rex looks up, grins, and says, "Hey Tuck, how's my right-hand man doing?"

He does this over and over again until he realizes one day that he doesn't actually remember how to function without Rex.

They meet Cricket at the tracks. Or rather, Rex is looking for someone who can run fast and he finds Cricket. And once he's located her, it's Tuck who sets up the trap. It's Tuck who lures Cricket in and watches as she outruns the police with surprising ease. From there, it's easy to reel her in. After all, she's just as much as an adrenaline junkie as he is.

Sqwydd is pretty easy to recruit, too. Once Rex figures out that the kid's a genius in making smoke bombs, he looks at Tuck with excited eyes and Tuck already knows what he'll be doing. And before he knows it, Sqwydd falls into Rex's hands, and Rex marvel at the easy way everyone falls into place.

Even Quarry falls into place, because that's just what happens when Rex Salazar desires it so. Providence falls into place, too. And Tuck's not too sure of that one, because that one's mostly Rex (but he did help here and there, so don't completely count him out). Rex just declares one day that they'll be borrowing the name Providence without explaining what Providence is (except for the mandatory "It doesn't exist").

And Tuck's been fine with all of that because he's had a hand in it somewhere, somehow, in making Rex happy. And when Rex is happy, the wind blows the fullest, and Tuck can fly anywhere he wants, as high as he wants, without anyone stopping him.

Circe is the exception.

Rex doesn't point her out to Tuck. She just appears at Rex's place one night, sitting at the far corner of the couch, hunched in and clutching herself. It pisses Tuck off, because do you know what he did to get his position? Do you know what he had to do, what he still has to do to keep Rex's attention on him (to keep the wind at his back)? And yet this girl comes out of nowhere and already she's Rex's favorite?

It's the reason why when they're on the mountain (after that night that Tuck never wants to remember or relive) and Circe stares as Rex takes the motorcycle and drives away without looking back and states (quite calmly), "Rex is faking it," Tuck almost loses it.

"Oh yes, because you know about him so well that you know when he doesn't have his memories or not," he snaps.

"The evidence has always been there," Circe says, crossing her arms. "You can't tell me that as his right hand, you never saw it?"

And yeah. Tuck's seen it. He's always suspected it. Because Rex might say that he has memory problems, but his actions always dictate otherwise. But Tuck is Tuck, and he's never brought it up. When Rex said it was a memory thing, he accepted it as that. Because what else is he going to do? He doesn't want to lose the thrill.

"What does it matter whether he's faking it or not?" Cricket asks. She's glancing from Tuck to Circe, as if fearing that someone's about to explode.

"It matters because he wants out," Tuck finds himself whispering.

And damn. He should've put this together. What kind of an idiot doesn't see this before now? Rex's behavior with his family, Rex's words last night, Rex's look of pure betrayal before the Rex Ride slipped and crashed (No, NO. Don't think about that night. Don't think about that night).

Rex is done. He wants out of this beautiful thrill-filled life. Out of the life that he's introduced them to (introduced and gotten them hooked on). The wind that's kept Tuck flying free doesn't want to blow anymore, and without it, he's going to fall into the ocean below. He's going to drown again.

And isn't it messed up that that's the thought that he can't stand? That if Rex keeps up this façade and really wants to stop everything, then Tuck cannot refuse him (How can he? He's never learned how to say no to Rex). But if he doesn't, he's going to drown (fall back down, lose everything). Damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. There's no way out for him.

Except one.