Sorry for the wait! My internet cut out on Monday before I could post this, and I only just now got everything ready to post it here. Wild stuff, but also not really. Anyway, here's the chapter you've been waiting for! Be prepared for angst; Rupert does not have a good time, as the title may suggest. See you at the bottom of the page!

Unfair (adjective): unreasonable, inconsiderate, and unkind; typically of a situation or circumstances

Rupert stormed through the halls, keeping his eyes locked firmly on the floor in front of him so no one would try to talk to him. He'd been talked at enough for one day. Galeforce meant well, of course he did, but the therapist he'd ended up recommending was the most infuriating person he'd ever met. Considering the number of people who'd infuriated him throughout his life, it was almost impressive.

His therapist was also well meaning- or at least he assumed so- but that appeared to only be skin deep. Every word that they spoke had been nothing but empty platitudes. "I'm sure he's smiling down at you from heaven" this, "he's in a better place now" that… and of course, their unbearable habit of writing down every damn thing he said. Even when he'd decided to shut up completely, they'd continued nodding and writing as if nothing had changed. Anything that he did say was met with judgmental stares, pitying headshakes, and even more empty platitudes. At one point, they'd asked if he'd ever considered taking a yoga class, to which he stood from the therapist couch and announced he was leaving. Even that didn't seem to throw them off, letting him go with a condescending "I feel like I'm coming to understand you already, Mr. Price." It certainly felt condescending, at least.

So now here Rupert was, marching back to his room despite the day hardly being half over, and imagining what his fellow soldiers thought of his absence. They were probably joking about it now with their friends, smacking their gobs with gossip and teasing and-

"Oh, hey, Rupert!"

Son of a gun.

Rupert slowed his pace and looked up. Charles Calvin matched his stride, smiling at him like they were friends instead of a superior and inferior. "Sir," Rupert said in acknowledgment, giving him a side salute in the hopes that he'd get the hint and leave him alone.

Charles did not get the hint. "How're you feeling, bud?"

Rupert bit back a retort. Charles meant well, no doubt about it. Everyone meant so damn well. "Fine."

"Good to hear," he replied, still continuing to keep pace with him. Rupert instinctively began to walk faster, but Charles was relentless. "Uh, hey, I was actually wondering something, if you're not super busy? I mean, I know you don't have any work since it's your day off and all, but uh-"

"What do you want? Sir," he added quickly. Despite being right next to each other, it felt like Charles was chasing him through the hallway. Where the bloody hell was his room?

"Oh, I just wanted to know if you'd like to take a ride with me?"

Rupert nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself quickly as he gave Charles a weird look. "'A ride?'"

"Yep!" Charles grinned. "I was planning to take my helicopter out for a ride, and I thought you might like to come. Whaddaya think?"

"You… take military property out for fun?"

Charles waved his hand around. "I do this a lot. The guys down at the hangar know me, so it's not a big production like for a mission or something. Soo…?" Charles leaned to the side with his hands behind his back. "What do you think? Great plan, right?"

Rupert opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wanted to say no; the therapy session had drained him of energy and patience and he wanted some time to himself, but the thought of sitting alone in his tiny dorm room suddenly felt unbearable. What would he even do once he got there? Lie in bed until dinner time? Stare at the wall? Even if he had a book, would he be able to concentrate on reading?

Therapy hadn't helped him "get over" Dave. How could he ever get over Dave? That implied giving up on him, and Rupert was not a bloody quitter. Especially not when it came to his best mate. They'd been through everything together: the police force, the scouts, even the bloody swim team! Dave couldn't be dead.

Rupert blinked out of his stupor. The two of them had stopped walking at this point, and Charles was looking at him expectantly. How long had he been waiting for Rupert to say something? The fact that he was still here and hadn't made an excuse to sod off was bizarre to him. He was being so patient with him… but why?

It was technically Charles' fault that Rupert had the day off, but given how cracked he'd been acting, it was probably for the best. Whether he intended it or not, it felt like Charles had been looking out for him, and that… was nice.

"Sure." He almost didn't hear himself say it, but he did it again. "Sure, if you're offering. Don't want to be a bother or nothing…"

Charles beamed at him. "I wouldn't have asked if you were, bud. Wanna head out right now?"

"You don't have work to do?"

"Nope! Since the Toppat Airship raid, I've mostly been doing paperwork. Since there are no missions to do, it's a perfect day for flying!"

True to Charles' word, getting in the helicopter and taking off had been a strikingly quick process. The longest part was when Rupert had to wait while an aviation engineer was going down a list of what not to do with a military grade helicopter. They'd spoken in a tone that suggested they'd had this discussion before, but Charles was a veteran pilot, for God's sake! He didn't really need to be reminded not to do a loop de loop in midair… right?

Soon afterwards, they were off, the military base growing smaller and smaller as they rose into the air, the roar of the engine and the scratchy murmur of radio talk filling the silence completely. Rupert had been in the helicopter Charles had been flying during the Toppat Airship raid, but he hadn't had a chance to watch him operate the thing. It was right impressive, the way Charles flicked this switch or pressed that button, hardly seeming to look at the control board as he flew them through the mostly clear sky. There was a gleam in his eyes as he stared out the front window; a mix of childlike wonder, thrill, and inner peace. It was no wonder he was a veteran, despite being so young.

They'd been flying in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a while when Rupert noticed that they seemed to be descending. Before he could ask if there was something wrong, there was a light bump as the engines died down. They'd touched down on a grass plain, and he could see a steep hill in the distance.

"Why'd we stop?" He asked as Charles unstrapped himself from the cockpit.

Charles grinned at him, unlocking the side hatch of the helicopter and dragging it open. "There's this awesome place I wanted to show you. It's just up ahead, you can't miss it. Come on!" Charles hopped out of the helicopter and began to walk towards the hill. Rupert jumped after him, taking a second to steady his legs before following.

The grass plain was just that: a plain of grass. Long, thin blades of green rustled in the breeze, filling the air with a constant shushing sound that was undercut by another sound, low and steady and rhythmic. Charles hiked up the hill easily, practically buzzing with excitement with every step. Rupert didn't get winded easily, but Charles hardly seemed troubled by the steep, slippery slope of grass at all. What was this bloke even made of?

By the time Rupert had caught up with Charles at the top of the hill, he was sweating something awful, but the pilot grabbed his hand and dragged him forward. "Oi!" He said, stumbling over his feet. "What is this about-?" Charles stopped, making Rupert smack into him. Rupert glared at him, but Charles continued to smile brightly as he pointed ahead of them. Rupert turned to look.

The top of the hill was a much gentler slope, almost flat, and the grass was shorter here, too. Reaching out across the horizon, as far as the eye could see, was the ocean, the source of the rhythmic sound from earlier. It was a deep, almost indigo color, especially in this late evening light that dyed the sky in rich reds, oranges, and golds. The sea breeze ruffled through Rupert's hair, almost like a gentle, friendly tousle, and the smell of grass and ocean was downright lovely.

Charles' grin was blinding. "I knew you'd like it. I found this place a while ago, and I like to stop by sometimes when I need a moment away from everything. And I thought…" he scuffed the toe of his boot against the grass, almost hesitantly. "I thought you could come hang out with me here. If you wanted, obviously, but-"

"You know," Rupert said quietly, gazing out into the view that filled his whole vision. "I never liked the beach. No good memories. The water's too cold, the sand is coarse and rough and gets everywhere…" He sighed slowly, feeling the sweet air slip in and out of his nose. "But up here, when I'm just looking at it instead of being down in it… I quite like it, I think."

Charles' smile softened. "I'm glad. And the offer's still there, if you want; I can take you here whenever. Uh, as long as we don't have any missions to do, but you probably already knew that."

Rupert finally turned away from the ocean and regarded Charles Calvin. There was a ruddy glow to his face, likely from the hike up the hill, but he also seemed to have a different kind of glow about him. Despite being Rupert's superior, Charles had taken time out of his own schedule to bring him here. He'd gone out of his way to check in on him at the gym and get him back to his dorm safely, even after he'd lashed out. He'd brought Rupert away from the base, away from the stress he'd been trying and failing to bulldoze through, to a place that was important to him. There'd been no pressure to talk about Dave, about needing to "move on" or any of that, but the opportunity was there. Rupert could talk to Charles about Dave, or about his personal failings, his irritation with his therapist, probably anything. He could talk, and be listened to.

…

Maybe another day. It would be poor taste to take advantage of Charles' generosity so soon, but knowing that the opportunity was there… well. It was quite lovely, indeed.

The moon was high in the sky by the time the two of them had gotten back to base. It was a thin, off white crescent tonight, surrounded by a clear and starry sky. Most everyone was either in bed or quietly working the night away, so after Charles bid him goodnight, Rupert didn't have to speak with anyone as he went back to his room.

Even though the two of them hadn't really done anything on that hill by the sea, Rupert found that there was less tension in his shoulders, an almost hazy feeling of coziness settling deep into his bones. As he unlocked his dorm room door, he was almost tempted to sleep in his clothes instead of changing. But no, he knew better. A proper night's sleep started with getting on the proper clothes, coziness or no.

It was a comfortable lull of nothing as he slipped into his night clothes. So comfortable, in fact, that he almost didn't see it.

Rupert blinked and looked back to his desk. There was a small piece of cardstock lying on it, the size of a business card, which was right strange. Rupert didn't make a habit of collecting business cards, so where on Earth did it come from? There hadn't been one for him to take from the therapist (not that he would have, even if there were), and the card couldn't have just appeared there randomly. This left only one answer: someone else had put it there. Someone who was not him.

Someone had been in his room.

Rupert snatched the card off the desk and scanned it quickly. It was uneven, the simple black text at an angle that didn't line up with the shape, almost like it had been handmade. There were two lines of text: a phone number he didn't recognize, and a name: Gadget Gabe.

He furrowed his brow. He had no idea who "Gadget Gabe" was; he didn't even know a Gabe, as far as he could remember. Whose business card was this? Thinking there might be more information on the back, Rupert flipped it over. There, written in tiny, uneven letters with a clearly dying pen, was a single sentence:

GADGET GABE CAN FIND YOUR FRIEND.

What little remained of the cozy, sleepy feeling in his bones turned cold, then hot. Boiling hot. Rupert slammed his fist on the desk, the card pinched tightly between his fingers. He was trembling with anger, his very vision seeming to shake as he stared at the card.

Who the hell would do something like this? What bloody wanker would break into his room and leave this here, just to mock him and his pain? Who knew that he'd lost Dave and would be cruel enough to hit him right when he was starting to get back on his feet?

He scrambled through the options. The Bukowski Twins seemed the most obvious choice; they'd sent him on that bloody "Backrooms" goose chase the other night, after all. But even though they had good prowess as soldiers, breaking and entering wasn't their strong suit; not without breaking the lock, anyway, and the lock to Rupert's room was perfectly intact.

The janitor had a master key for when recruits locked themselves out of their dorms, but the two of them were on good terms. Rupert always kept his room in near perfect shape, and the janitor wouldn't give their key to just anyone.

Had his therapist stolen the key? They'd only just met that morning, though! Besides, the therapist was supposed to be helping him move on, not keep his hopes up.

Galeforce had the authority to demand the key from the janitor, certainly, but again: he was trying to get Rupert to move on. Even if he'd been upset with Rupert for calling him stupid that morning, the general had thicker skin than that. There was no way he'd stoop to these lows out of petty vengeance.

No, whoever did this had to be someone who knew that he'd lost Dave, who either had the authority or the charisma to pull this off, and who knew he wouldn't be in his room today…

…Like Charles Calvin.

Charles Calvin had been there when he was drunk, going on and on about his missing best friend. Charles Calvin was not only an authority figure, but charming with an easy smile and a carefree attitude that could theoretically get him anything he asked for. And Charles Calvin had taken him off base for the entire day, keeping him far away from his room until nightfall. It was almost too straightforward: Charles could have asked the janitor to borrow the key, put the card on his desk and locked up just as quickly, before returning the key and walking down the hall until he bumped into Rupert and invited him to go off base.

Rupert felt sick. Merely an hour ago, he thought that Charles might be the one person in the entire military base who would listen to him, the one person he could talk to without fear of judgment or dismissal. Had it all been an act? Was Charles' entire personality a facade for something cruel and monstrous, like a wolf in sheep's clothing? Was everything he thought he knew about the veteran pilot all an elaborate ploy to bring him to his lowest point, simply for the pleasure of it?

He didn't want to believe it. Charles seemed so kind, so innocent, so perfect…

Too perfect.

So perfect, in fact, that no one would believe him if he tried to tell anyone.

He'd been completely, bloody duped.

Rupert opened his mouth- to scream, to cry, to swear, he didn't know- only to be interrupted by his phone ringing loudly. Startled, he pulled it out of his pants pocket. An unknown number was written across the screen, the option to decline or answer offered underneath in bright red and green.

This was strange for two reasons. One: Rupert always kept his phone on silent, only letting it vibrate when he wasn't actively on duty. Two: Rupert's phone had a pretty good track record of blocking unknown numbers automatically. It was standard issue for military phones, to avoid spam calls as much as possible. Yet for some reason, this number was coming through.

A thought occurred to him, and he lifted the card to his eyes. The number on the card matched the one on his phone perfectly. Whoever had left the card here was calling him, no doubt to mock him, to laugh at him.

Rupert hit the green "answer" button and spat into the speaker, "Calvin, you'd bloody better come out and face me before I hunt you down myself!"

There was silence on the other end. It didn't even sound like anyone was breathing. Rupert opened his mouth to shout at them again-

"Gadget Gabe really can help find your friend, you know."

Rupert blinked. That… was not Charles Calvin. Or anyone he knew, for that matter. Unless they were doing a voice? "Who the hell're you?"

"This… is Gadget Gabe." The voice was nasally and scratchy, like someone who was both thirsty and needed to clear their throat, but wouldn't. "Gadget Gabe will help you, if you do as Gadget Gabe requires."

Rupert felt a vein throb in his neck. Who the hell spoke in the third person? "As soon as I figure out who you are, 'Gadget Gabe'," he growled, "you're dead. You hear that? Bloody dead!"

"There is a place," the voice continued, as if they hadn't heard him. "It is called 'Shady Sea Town'. There is a light house there, where you must go. Gadget Gabe will meet you there, to help you find your precious friend. Gadget Gabe knows things that even your government doesn't know. Gadget Gabe will show you something incredible." There was a sudden click, and Rupert pulled the phone away from his ear. They'd hung up on him.

He nearly dropped the phone as he scrambled to redial the number, his hands shaking horribly with anger. He finally managed to hit the call button, only for a prompt to pop up. His number had been blocked.

Rupert shouted and hurled his phone onto the bed, falling to his knees hard enough to bruise as he buried his head in his arms. No matter how hard he tried to stay silent, barely suppressed sobs wracked his whole body. No matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, tears still seeped through to leave a hot and moist stain on the blanket beneath him.

None of this was fair.

None of this was bloody fair.

He'd worked hard to get into the military. He'd trained relentlessly just to make it to boot camp. He'd spilled literal blood and sweat, fighting tooth and nail for his rank, trying so damn hard to prove that he was worthy, that he was capable, that he was perfect. And he had.

But now Dave was gone, like Johnny Panzer when he died earlier that year. The one person he had left was dead, and now everything was falling apart. He was losing his standing, his mind, his friends- had he even had friends besides Dave and Johnny to begin with? No, of course he didn't. None of these people were his friends. They were coworkers at best, rivals at worst; willing to do any number of cruel deeds to stab him in the back and leave him in the dust. Just to watch him suffer. Just for their amusement.

It wasn't bloody fair.

... I love putting my favorite guys in situations. *Sets Rupert on fire to keep myself warm at night*

Let's see, where to start, where to start? A lot happened in this chapter, so I guess we'll start at the beginning with Rupert's therapist! I don't really have a name or face for them; they're just supposed to be the epitome of "well meaning but useless". Luckily, I've never had a therapist like this (though then again, I've never needed a therapist for losing a loved one, so maybe I'm gonna be on the chopping block one day), but I've heard horror stories here and there from friends. Also, therapy tends to only really be effective if the one who needs it wants it, which Rupert does not.

Valiant Hero ending reference spotted! I'm very much on the bandwagon of "the place Charles gets buried in the VH ending is special to him in some way". Luckily, since Henry Stickmin doesn't exist, it's pretty unlikely that Charles will meet a fate like that in this universe. Probably. But speaking of Charles Calvin...

Obviously, Charles had nothing to do with the business card, but as we all know, Rupert is very much on a "jump to the worst possible conclusion " mindset right now. So that's exactly what he does: he assumes the one person he might have been able to trust has turned on him, and now he is in misery; there ain't nobody who can comfort him (I'm sure some you remember that song from that one meme). Poor Charles has no idea that he's been falsely accused of emotional manipulation and destruction... And he won't, for a while.

Anyway, enough about that guy; we've got our first taste of Gadget Gabe! ...Tastes like head colds and expired takeout. Ick. If you came here to read about Gadget Gabe being cool and awesome, you're gonna be sorely disappointed. Seeing as we haven't actually met him yet, though, I'm going to save some info about him for a later chapter. Stay tuned for that!

The reference was so small that you might not have noticed it, but yes: Johnny Panzer is dead in this fic. There was an unfortunate car accident while he was on duty with Rupert, which, completely by coincidence, was on the same night that Dave disappeared. So yeah, that's two friends gone with one stone; literally, in Johnny's case.
*Everyone boos me and throws rocks*

Anyway, that's it for this week! I hope you had fun! *Looks over at Rupert, who is still on fire* Yep, I did good. Next week, we're jumping back over to Dave's POV! It'll be quite the SPLASH if you catch my DRIFT! *Even more booing*

I'll see you next week; until then!