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This chapter is integral in developing certain themes for this story, so I'd say it's pretty important to follow even if there isn't a lot of action.

This chapter is written from Calvin's perspective.


Chapter 24: Masks

It was the most bitter winter Calvin had lived through.

Not a physical winter where the cold chilled his skin, but a figurative one where the cold chilled his heart. He was in the middle of a snowy desert, barren and desolate, with the sun slowly fading as the menacing darkness pulled it out of his sight.

How many lies had been whispered over the blackest night, when even the purest of angels hid and the greatest of men slept? The stars lied too- they pretended to be emblems of hope, when in fact they were long dead, ending up as nothing but a symbol of false dreams which belonged in memories of childhood. They had been burnt out and spent a long time ago, as had the truth. Now the truth was tired of lying and had come out to reveal itself in the most cruel manner possible.

Despair had finally slaughtered hope, in a brutal struggle which came to influence the moral dilemmas Calvin faced. Down in Calvin's heart, he felt a void- overwhelming, hungry darkness, spreading like a disease and ravaging the last glimpses of hope and honour Calvin still possessed. The world of light he was born into was now being consumed by monsters lurking in the shadows.

Calvin couldn't trust anyone, least of all himself. The one person he had loved all his life turned out to be yet another lie, and Calvin was sick of it. He was sick of having his soul ripped to pieces over the years. Every single time he tried to repair his life, another blow by fate would leave him sprawling and winded. He didn't want to get up anymore. It wasn't worth it.

Doing good only brought back more pain.

In the rare moments his frenzied mind decided to cool down and assume rationality, his heart was only ruthlessly shredded even more by a whole series of questions which challenged the purpose of his existence-

Was Snake really his father?

Who was Richard Oberton?

Who could he call "Dad"?

When the questions failed to evoke any kind of answer, his mind would slowly start to slide down the slope, falling towards the freezing waters where his fears floated about. He could barely remember what he was frightened of- occasionally he could see tufts of fur… eyes… maybe a wing… Were those teeth? What kind of teeth were those?

And in those moments, he would grip the chair tighter, horrified by the tiniest movements in the shadows or the faintest of noises that rolled up his neck, causing his hair to shoot up instantly, before finally crawling into his ear. He would fumble about, trying to grip on to something which could keep him fastened to this reality. His nails would dig into the fabric, or might crack if it was metal or wood, while his muscles would begin to cramp up from being too tense.

It didn't amount to anything in the end. He would pull himself out of the frigid stream and the fears would subside, but his tumble back into it was inevitable. So all he could do was breathe, and prepare for the day he was staring back at claws and beady eyes.

Calvin sometimes found the strength to swallow down the rising panic and to haul himself out of the figurative well he had been stuck in and to try and fixate his eyes on something to distract him from the raging hell in the midst of the unforgiving cold.

Snake, bless God, had left him alone for quite some time. He was fed occasionally, and was allowed a couple of limps to the toilet a day, but that was the extent to which he was allowed to move. Snake, ever the obsessive control freak, had kept Calvin neutralised and in his hands. Once Calvin was done enjoying these little luxuries, it was back to being tortured. Snake had started to become quite creative, but it was becoming evident that he was running out of ideas.

Calvin didn't want to know what would happen when the ideas finally dried up.

His eyes constantly chose to settle on what appeared to be organs, robbed from the corpses of people who once had life flowing through them. His insides squealed at the sight of some of the grotesque objects, but he refused to categorise them or use any kind of logic at all. IT would only be more punishing on the senses.

But today was different- today he wasn't the only breathing creature in the room. A curled up ball of grimy, blood-caked fur stirred in the background, shifting about incessantly despite how it was shackled down for good. Eventually, the slightly annoying clink of chains died down, and then came a voice which sounded as old as time itself.

"What are you here for?"

Calvin stared up at the ceiling where darkness lay. It smiled right back at him.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked.

"I didn't mean to come across as being intrusive," the voice replied politely, with a disappointed sigh punctuating his answer. "I just wanted to have the dignity of speaking to someone before my death."

Calvin instantly felt bad for trying to shut him down, but given his experiences over the past few days, or maybe even weeks… Calvin didn't trust anyone, and to be fair he didn't trust himself either.

But having been alone for so long, a little company wouldn't hurt, even if it was with the vilest snake on earth.

"I guess we can talk," he said to the unnamed speaker, whose figure remained shrouded by shadows, with Calvin catching the occasional glimpse of brown fur in the flickering light. Not a human, for sure. Probably one of the animals Operation Claw had caught to carry out their atrocious experiments. "But would it benefit either of us?"

"Well," the figure said, "judging by the youth in your tone, I suppose this could be an opportunity to impart some knowledge. Might be a way of redemption before I enter the afterlife, if there is an afterlife."

An awkward silence ensued, before the figure added, "I'll introduce myself first, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"It won't," Calvin replied honestly. "But whatever, go ahead."

The figure cleared its throat and said, "I'm Fabius."

He then stretched his head out so that the light would fall on his face, and Calvin nearly jerked out of his seat in shock. He might very well have, if it wasn't for the straps holding him down.

Fabius was a fox.

Calvin took a couple of seconds to register that fact, before he slowly began to take in the minor details. The blood on his forehead. The missing teeth. An ear dangling precariously, threatening to drop off any second. Fur that was darkened by dirt. A prominent scar on the chin.

And piercing yellow eyes.

Yellow eyes similar to a fox which had once won his trust and then violated it, playing Calvin for a fool. A fox with yellow eyes that screamed of malice, cruelty and yes, madness too. But these yellow eyes were devoid of those traits. They were devoid of anything, for that matter. No happiness or despair or…

Hope.

"You're…" Calvin stammered, "You're… a schemer."

"Well done, detective," the fox replied sarcastically. "But not just any schemer- I am King Flavius' older cousin."

Someone related to Flavius would have been empowered by the power and status of the rager king, and yet here Fabius was- battered, bruised and in chains, waiting for death to claim him as his body rotted away.

Very peculiar.

"Why are you down here?" he asked Fabius.

"I ask myself the same question sometimes," Fabius chuckled bitterly. "Then the answer strikes me, which usually leads to a lot of cursing and regret. But over time, I've come to peace with the decision I made."

"Which is?"

Fabius' bitter expression morphed into a wry smile as he said, "I chose to oppose Flavius."

Why the hell would Fabius do that?

Given that he was in a position of privilege, where he generally had more autonomy than others and probably possessed more power than the ordinary schemer, why would he choose to throw it all away to fight his cousin, who was the despotic ruler?

As if on cue, Fabius continued, "I'm aware it sounds… counter-intuitive. But seeing what he had done, was doing and wanted to do, I knew he had to be stopped. Rulers with absolute power cannot be trusted. They may remain pure for a little while, but not forever. However good their intentions were, they often get corrupted by power and end up abusing it, at the expense of their own kind."

"I highly doubt that Flavius had good intentions," Calvin remarked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Fabius replied. "Flavius was once a noble soul who led the schemers out of misery. We were bright creatures, sure, but we didn't have the guts to act . Only he had the courage to venture out into the unknown."

"So what did he do?" Calvin asked, his curiosity piqued suddenly. Despite talking to Flavius often while he was pretending to be Murellus and fighting him on a couple of other occasions, Calvin didn't quite know his enemy well enough.

If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.

Lao Tzu. The Art of War.

A book Richard Oberton had instructed him to read once he was fifteen. Calvin still opened it from time to time to have a look through, but it was still far more complex and philosophical than most other books suited for a guy his age.

"Flavius found a small passageway leading back into our ancestor's former home. Realising that it meant we could finally leave the impoverished area we lived in and the wretched conditions we had been subject to for centuries, Flavius tried to convince the former king to leave," Fabius explained.

"But the former king rejected Flavius' idea. He was scared that Flavius was leading them into an environment which could lead to the extermination of the race. Afraid of losing his power and his life, the king refused to grant him permission to lead the schemers out of the hellhole we were in and declared that he was satisfied living in the Uncharted lands."

Fabius took in a deep breath, evidently feeling a tad overwhelmed by the memories which assaulted his ravaged mind. "But Flavius wasn't going to sit by and watch the schemers suffer in the ruins we lived in. So he led a rebellion, aided by me and his best friend Brutus, to overthrow the old king."

"You?" Calvin asked incredulously.

"Yes," Fabius nodded. "Flavius was doing the right thing for our race. Was he arrogant and greedy? Perhaps. But he also possessed a great love for his fellow schemer, and that spurred him on to fight for our survival."

"We overthrew the old king without any major problems. Flavius, being the only rager, slaughtered the old king himself and announced himself as the new king of the schemers. The rest of the schemers began to see him as a Saviour, someone sent down by divine beings to lead us out of the darkness we were left to rot in and into the light."

"Did he still have noble intentions as king?" Calvin queried.

"Yes, yes he did," Fabius answered. "Not many people saw the good, but I did. I saw what he went through as a pup It was those experiences that molded his character and personality."

"What experiences?" Calvin pressed Fabius.

"His parents were killed when he was but a pup," Fabius replied, his voice sounding distant as he delved further into a long-forgotten past. "It was a time of civil turmoil, and the old king was trying to rally as many supporters as possible to his side. Flavius' parents were both ardent supporters of his regime, but did not actively participate in the fighting for fear of letting the fighting escalate to a level which would threaten the life of their only son."

"But alas, the war had reached intensity levels far beyond what was expected and the divide between the two factions was at an all-time high. Foxes who were major supporters of the old king were hunted down and killed."

Fabius sighed as he said, "Foxes like Flavius' parents."

In that moment, all hatred he possessed against Flavius subsided, and Calvin found a wave of pity swelling in his chest. They were so similar- they had both lost their parents at a young age and were left to fend for themselves in a merciless, brutal world. And yet despite the similarities at the start, their paths had diverged so starkly that the similarities were almost practically unrecognisable anymore.

Calvin, during his interactions with Flavius, had barely seen even a modicum of genuine emotion. The fox had either walled it all up or forgotten how to feel over the years. To be devoid of compassion and fear and pain… It took a real tragedy to destroy all those feelings in someone.

"Right after losing his parents, he discovered he was a rager," Fabius continued. "I was there every night, right next to him when he lamented how he discovered his abilities so late. He used to regret how he was unable to protect his parents, and he also used to curse the old king for allowing such a brutal conflict to tear our kingdom apart. Those nights would shape the type of king he would ultimately become."

"And what kind of king would that be?" Calvin asked.

Another sigh rose in the background, and in a voice that finally betrayed how broken Fabius was on the inside, he said, "The kind of king who lusts for power."

The light that fell on his face revealed the anguish that Fabius was going through, so the fox concealed it, shifting his head into the shadows and using the darkness as a mask. Calvin understood why- sometimes, pain was something intimate, something which was personal and not to be shared with others. Your own vulnerabilities were to be dealt with in your own darkness, not under the light of day for others to see.

"You see," Fabius went on, "Flavius believed that only a leader with ultimate power could truly protect his people. To be honest, he was and still is right. A benevolent dictator is ideal for any species because only he can truly maintain the safety of the people and protect them like sons and daughters."

"But?" Calvin anticipated the clause.

"But he forgot the oldest rule in the history of politics," Fabius replied. "And it is this- power corrupts even the best of us. Flavius didn't want to feel powerless anymore, because that was the primary feeling he experienced when he lost his parents. It was a lack of control from the old king that led to the civil war, and Flavius claimed that lack of control stemmed from a lack or misuse of power."

"So he claimed total power for himself," Calvin realised. "He took advantage of the people worshipping him for leading them out of that shithole and made them see him as the one true king."

"Spot on," Fabius said wistfully. "Those were the days when deep down in his soul, he was still good. The intention behind claiming absolute power was to establish control and to achieve complete peace."

"Flavius told me peace in the Underland was impossible," Calvin recalled, his eyebrows furrowing as his mind traced its way back to when he was still an amateur, in an unfamiliar place surrounded by strangers.

"Peace in the Underland is impossible," Fabius agreed, "as long as various different species continue to co-exist. Flavius' war on Regalia is fueled, once again, by his need to ensure that he has absolute power. He's not very different from some Regalians, in a sense. He desires peace as well, except that he believes the only way to attain it is to destroy any obstacle against him so that dissent and opposition were minimal. When there is less dissent, there is less conflict. When there is less conflict, there is peace. It's a reasonable line of logic, I suppose. It makes sense."

"I didn't know that he was once like that," Calvin commented, his perception of the diabolical tyrant changing radically. "I always thought, you know, he was just pure evil and stuff. I didn't… I didn't actually know…"

"I don't truly believe anyone really is born evil," Fabius interjected smoothly. "Flavius was born just like you, and despite all the pain he went through, he still ascended to power with the purpose of saving his own kind. Not many would have been willing to make the sacrifices he made. Of course, the feeling of absolute power gnawed away at his soul until there's almost no good left in it, but… But I still believe he can redeem himself. I still hold out hope he can."

Hope.

Calvin scarcely believed in that ideal anymore. But seeing a fox on his deathbed, hated by his own cousin, tortured by humans and ignored by others, yet still holding out hope… It was inspiring. It was inspiring to see someone who had lost so much and gained so little still holding out with the belief of a better future.

"Flavius pretended to be my friend," Calvin told Fabius. "But he betrayed me right at the very end, and he made me mourn for him when I thought he died. So I don't think there's much good left in him anymore."

"There's good left in everyone," Fabius said stubbornly. "You think all foxes are evil? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but we aren't. Yes, perhaps some of us are consumed by the desire for power and glory and fame, or maybe some are like Flavius now and just want to destroy Regalia. But the rest of us? We're just like you all."

Those words struck a chord in Calvin's heart.

We're just like you all.

It was frightening- frightening to know that someone you just killed was someone just like you, but on the opposite side of the battlefield. Just the flipped side of the same coin. Just someone who was following orders or who didn't know a different way of life.

And that was the crux of Calvin's principle behind the refusal to kill- he had no right to decide who lived and who died. Maybe someone else could bear the burden, but Calvin had decided long ago that he wasn't willing to bear that burden. He may be a soldier, but he wasn't an executioner.

And what Fabius said had only reinforced that ideal.

"Fine," Calvin replied slowly, "maybe there is good left in everyone. But who can I trust now? Everybody I ever cared about seems to have betrayed me in one way or another, so how am I supposed to- "

"I know it's hard," Fabius interjected politely, his voice laced with sympathy, "when everyone around you seems to wear a mask. I know that feeling because I was surrounded by friends who all wore their facades religiously, while I remained true to myself and my feelings. A stupid move, I fear."

"Why?" Calvin asked him. "I mean, I understand that it's not smart to reveal your true self all the time, but what happened? What made you… you know… end up here?"

"My dear boy, I'm being punished for being the intrepid explorer who tested Flavius' boundaries," he chuckled bitterly. "I openly told Flavius that he had taken the wrong approach and that exterminating the other races wouldn't bring him peace."

"And he banished you because of that?"

"No," Fabius replied, shaking his head. "His response was to warn me to keep quiet. But I was naive, you see. I believed that we were better than that- better than resorting to killing others in order to make ourselves feel safer. So me being me, I went to gather some still sympathetic to my cause and we tried to stir up some shit."

Another trademark sigh from Fabius served as a filler for him to organise his thoughts as he went on, "It was me, Varius and Julius leading about a dozen other schemers in a conspiracy to dethrone Flavius. But one of Flavius' most loyal generals, Gaius, sniffed it out before we could even put our plan in place. He convinced one of our members, Severus, to betray us, and that was pretty much the end of what we tried to start."

"Did you lose all of them?" Calvin asked softly, afraid that even a few decibels more would shatter the fragile silence.

"Yes," Fabius said, his feeble voice wavering ever so slightly. "Flavius had all my friends hunted down and killed. But he saved a worse punishment for me- he sent me here to be tortured and experimented on for the sake of the Overlanders."

"I figured," Calvin replied, unable to keep a hint of sarcasm out of his intonation.

"I don't hate Flavius," Fabius said, sounding broken beyond repair. "I pity him, and I still love him as a cousin. I just wished he pursued a brighter future for the Underland. But I do hate Gaius, because he undermined everything I had come to believe in. Trust, honour… his actions taught me that I couldn't trust anyone. He taught me that even when surrounded by friends, you could be all alone."

"So that's it, huh," Calvin said bleakly. "That's what this world is like. Nobody trusts anyone and we're all just truly alone."

"I suppose so," Fabius replied. "I do suppose so."

"Then what's the point of doing good anymore?" Calvin lamented. "If we can't even trust each other, if we're living in constant fear, if… if we can't even believe in an ideal, then what point is there to fighting for justice?"

"I ask myself the same question," Fabius said, his voice almost lowering to a harsh whisper. "But I can never find one good answer. There's just so much evil in the world that… that… no matter how many good people there are, their work is never enough. Everybody's just far too selfish for good people to expect any kind of success. It's basically futile."

He was shell-shocked by Fabius' words. Given how much hope he had tried to preserve over the last half a decade or so, Calvin thought that he would find the answer to the purpose of his life, or at least someone would supply that answer to him. Guess it was all just an illusion, after all.

"Then I've been living a lie," Calvin said miserably. "I've placed justice at the centre of my life but… if it's all worthless, then there's no purpose in what I do. Then there's no value gained in fighting the darkness."

That realisation felt like thunder, echoing on after roaring above the world. Calvin's heart now froze over, finally succumbing to the icy winter his soul had fought to survive in. Years of hard work, pain, sweat, blood, tears… Just to arrive at this moment, and find out that it had been wasted, all down the garbage chute once he comprehended how the purpose of his life was shaped by an imaginary order, which told him what the desires of a good life were.

Calvin cried, but these weren't tears of pain or sorrow.

They were tears of frustration.

Frustration that he had sacrificed so much to reach a premature finishing line. He had known this answer all along, but had refused to admit it out of some childish dream of making the world a better place. The truth was that even if he did, it would be for nothing. The world would end up falling backwards, tearing itself apart out of some absurd masochistic nature ingrained in its system.

And just when Calvin thought he had seen the last glimpse of fading stars, Fabius changed his world again, saying,

"But that doesn't mean you stop fighting."

Calvin turned to face the fox, who now stared right into his eyes. The yellow was neutral, merely sending him memories of another fox who possessed such a colour, but beyond the golden light that shone forward was a clear message- a message of hope.

Hope that was absent when he first stared into Fabius' eyes.

"The world needs more people like you," Fabius told him. "If we choose to give up and lose hope, if good men like you choose to leave this world to rot… Then it will for sure. Perhaps it will die anyway, even if you sacrifice everything for it. But out there, a little kid is watching his world crumble apart. When he sees a hero or a symbol of hope standing up against the masses of evil that gather at his doorstep… That boy will feel inspired to do the same."

"So…" Calvin said, feeling a little strength surging through his blood suddenly.

"Be that symbol of hope," Fabius said. "Keep fighting against the darkness at all costs. Because there is still good left in this world. And even if it's a fraction of what it should be, it's still worth fighting for."

It's still worth fighting for.

Short and yet profound.

And words which would change Calvin forever.

"Even when you find yourself staring at the abyss," Fabius went on, "Remember one thing- don't blink."

Calvin stared at the light above him. He could cling onto it for a while, even when he was trapped down here, surrounded by darkness. He would cling onto that last string of hope until he was out, and once he was out… He knew what he was going to do.

He was going to fight for justice, no matter the cost.

Because at the end of the day, that's what mattered.

Because at the end of the day, that's what defined his purpose in life. Even if there was only one little boy out there who still believed in good, he had to be protected. Even if the whole world for a young ten year old fell apart when his dad died, he still needed to believe that somewhere out there, he was still being protected.

Somewhere out there, someone was still fighting for all he believed in.

"I never told you my name," Calvin told Fabius abruptly, realising that he still hadn't introduced himself to the fox whose words had begun to take effect.

"I don't need to know," Fabius replied calmly. "It's never been important to me. But I thought it was pretty obvious, Calvin."

So Fabius had known all along. Calvin wasn't too surprised, but he did respect the fox for withholding from conversing about Calvin's particular identity and history.

"Look, there's one last thing," Calvin said uncomfortably. "Snake said that… said that… said that he was my… um… my…"

"Your father," Fabius snorted nonchalantly. "I just saved you the struggle."

"Yea," Calvin said awkwardly, trying to diffuse the nervousness of the talk away by fiddling with his straps. "I… I don't know what to do, I mean… I've always thought Richard was my father, and I've always used Richard as an example for me. But-"

"But what? You think it's wrong because he isn't your father?" Fabius scoffed. "Calvin, can you even hear what you're saying? You're putting Richard down and spitting on his legacy because he isn't your father!"

"I know," Calvin said, shifting about uneasily. "But Snake-"

"Does it matter?" Fabius interrupted him, this time in a less polite manner. "Your true father is the one who cared for you when you were a kid and gave you everything you ever wanted for and more. It doesn't matter who your biological father is. It really doesn't. All that matters is that Richard sacrificed everything to turn you into the man you are today, so as far as I see it, he is your father."

And everything clicked into place. Every doubt, every stab of pain suddenly vanished as everything fell into place. Richard Oberton was his father, not Snake.

Because Richard was the one who really loved him.

Maybe Richard was his biological father, maybe he wasn't. Who cared anyway? Richard Oberton had been there at his lowest point and had lifted him through the toughest obstacles, even when he was long gone.

Richard had given him hope, while Snake had taken it away.

No, Snake had tried to take it away.

After all was said and done, Calvin still believed that Richard was his father, and Fabius was right- nothing else mattered.

"And pardon yet another one of my two cents' worth again," Fabius added, "but Snake doesn't deserve to be a father to anyone if he tries to tear down his own son's life and then go on to torture him. Only a sick bastard would do that, least of all a father."

Yet another fair point by Fabius. Calvin had initially started off by being suspicious of his motives, but gradually had come to respect him and…

Trust. Him.

Calvin would never have imagined in a million years that he would end up trusting a fox, but here he was, speaking to a cerebral being with the intellect and power to use Calvin's disclosed knowledge against him, but…

But he didn't.

Fabius was probably the first fox Calvin had ever fully trusted. And that moment of anagnorisis in the story of his life revealed itself to him- every being still had hope. He couldn't just choose to kill, because deep down there was an innate goodness left in everyone, which meant that if he killed anyone, that goodness died along with them.

He had to hope that they could one day tap into that goodness.

As much as he hated Snake, he had to be the better person. He couldn't and wouldn't pull the trigger on him, or any fox he faced in battle, because that still made him a murderer, no matter how justified he was.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the opening of a door. Snake emerged from the darkness, striding towards Fabius. "Did you two have a good chat?" he asked casually, pulling out a pistol.

Out of the corner of his eye, Calvin spotted Fabius lifting his head slightly, as if he was being elevated spiritually in his last few moments in this world. "The boy understands now," Fabius snarled. "He understands that you were never, and never will be, his father."

"That's not what I put you in here for," Snake said coldly, reloading the pistol slowly as the tension in the room went up a notch. "The deal was to convince him otherwise, and I'd let you go."

"Deal's off, I guess," Fabius replied cheerfully.

"Indeed," Snake said, training the pistol on Fabius.

"Remember what I told you, Calvin," Fabius said, his voice not shaking or trembling as he stared death straight in the face. "Keep believing in-"

Snake fired three times.

"NO!" Calvin screamed at the top of his lungs.

But when the echoes of his scream faded into the background, only silence replied.


I know this chapter wasn't necessarily action-packed, but there are a lot of thematic ideas and messages for you to unpack here. This chapter is pivotal in Calvin's development as our secondary protagonist, and while the conversation helped to change him, I also hope it changes your perspective on the world. Or maybe not change your perspective…. But I hope it's thought-provoking at the very least.

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Question: Do you think there is good in this world fighting for? Or do you think a more nihilistic stance should be adopted? Please share your thoughts in the reviews section?