Honor

Big Ben struck loudly, signaling the late evening hour in London. Duke could not see the clock from his vantage point, but to be honest he had seen more than enough of it in his short time on Earth.

He adjusted his large coat as he waited on the icy steps of the nondescript building. Aside from a few curious glances, the combination of night and the culture's tendency to keep to their own business had managed to keep his alien celebrity magnetism down to a low hum.

In other words, he wasn't being gawked at.

The chilly wind was keeping quite a few travelers at home, as well, or making them shell out the money for fare instead. Nonetheless, Duke wasn't perturbed by the frigid temperatures; after all, he grew up in the belly of a major city that averaged -23 Celsius for a better part of Puckworld's orbit, or a year in Earth terms.

Tanya had mentioned their orbit back home was longer than on this world, which explained why humans with the same young age as the ducks were wholly more immature.

Nosedive was 17, and granted—he was pretty immature for his Puckworldian age—but Drake almighty, the sum of responsibility in Earth's teenagers equated to what a ten-year-old back on Puckworld would have.

The door next to him creaked open a few inches, an inviting ambient glow escaping from inside. Duke waited a few moments and, when nothing else happened, he casually and quickly opened the door the rest of the way to sneak in.

The warmth of a fire met his face as he entered and shut the door behind him. The entryway led immediately to an inviting living area, equipped with a large fireplace, two small chairs, and a nearby sofa. The entry way and its surrounding area was vacant, leaving Duke alone in the quaint room.

An empty coatrack stood next to the front door. Duke took the initiative and shrugged out of his coat, hanging it on the old wooden piece of furniture. He added his scarf around the hook and removed his gloves, shoving them into one of the pockets of his long jacket.

He took the opportunity to look around and warm up some, the instant change of temperature causing him to become inexplicably drowsy. It reminded of him of the Brotherhood: there was nothing more inviting than a long night of performing a heist in the middle of a blizzard, followed up by the warm breath of the hideout as he successfully made his way home with stolen goods in a sack on his back.

The nostalgia was strong and it made Duke miss his old home. Several levels underground and a separate labyrinth next to the old sewer systems, the Brotherhood was the result of many eras of hard work, leadership, comradery, and a hierarchical system that was respected and honored.

In a lot of ways it was not unlike the military, something that Mallory would probably scoff at. Duke knew that thievery was inherently an unethical trade, but it had been his livelihood. He made no attempts to believe that his brethren tried to steal from only those deserving of it, or that the eventual downfall of morality happened time and time again when certain members became too unwavering in their jobs or self-proclaimed duties.

It was a small gray area between right and wrong that Duke had constantly battled: when was it crossing the line?

His hand almost subconsciously went to his eye patch, answering his own unasked question.

There was a loud beep, startling the dark gray mallard. He outwardly appeared unfazed, though, as he turned to the source of the noise. Per his instructions, he was to wait here until it was clear where he was to proceed.

The beep had originated from a bookcase next to the fireplace. He watched as the entire case slid to the side, revealing a cool metal elevator that looked out of place in this cottage-style living room.

He promptly walked up to it and entered the large metal cabin, turning around once he was inside. The door to the elevator shut shortly after and he felt the shift in pressure as he began moving downwards. Despite the building appearing to be only two stories, it was quite clear that there was much more hidden beneath its charming architecture.

He waited about twenty seconds until he felt the elevator slow to a stop. It beeped again as the door slid open, and he was instantly greeted with two guns being pointed in his direction.

"At ease, gentleman," someone said behind the two guards. The men obeyed the command, holstering their respective weapons but keeping their eyes on Duke the entire time.

Unlike the guardsmen he had encountered at Big Ben, these officers were in nondescript uniforms. They were most likely a part of MI5, or whatever Britain's own secret service was called again. Earth was a much larger planet than Puckworld, and because of it every country seemed to have their own version of government and defense. He had been briefed before coming here, but after ten minutes of rather monotonous instruction he had begun tuning out the representative that had visited Anaheim.

Duke had only perked up again when being instructed on how to enter the hidden underground prison, seeing as though it was either that or get shot at.

That same representative was here now, as he was the speaker who had commanded the officers to lower their weapons. He stepped between the two burly men and held out his hand to Duke.

"Welcome to the Queen's Den," the representative—Agent Taylor, if Duke was remembering correctly—addressed.

Duke shook his hand and nodded. "Dis is quite the, ah, setup you got here," he offered, taking the opportunity to observe his surroundings.

The large hallway was made of an alloy that looked like the Pond. In fact, as he scrutinized it more he realized it was the exact same alloy as the Pond.

Most of the interior of the Pond was made of a compound that did not rust or mold. Tanya had worked with some engineers she had met at Lectric Land when they first arrived on Earth and had made a deal with them to provide the chemical structure in return for a large—very large—quantity of the stuff. The engineers could then take the recipe and claim credit for it.

It was a very basic alloy that had been used on Puckworld for as long as Duke could remember, so it wasn't really credit Tanya could take anyways. Nonetheless, the human engineers obliged and the majority of the Pond's lower floors were created out of the material to require as minimal maintenance as necessary.

It was likely that, in the past year that they had been on Earth, that alloy had become a staple commodity throughout most of the allied militaries of the world. That, or it had been commercialized in the United States and sold to whoever was willing to pay for it.

Either way, the hallway they were standing in seemed to stretch quite a distance, with multiple doors offering alternative routes throughout the large complex. A chunk of it was still under construction, supposedly, but one section Duke knew was completed:

The section that housed Falcone.

"Yes, indeed," Agent Taylor replied to Duke's comment. "Technology has come a long way in the past century and has cut down construction time to a fraction of what it used to be. Quite marvelous, really."

After their handshake Agent Taylor motioned Duke to follow him as he turned and began walking the other direction. The two guards remained stationed at the elevator's entrance as Duke obliged and began following the officer.

"Where's your teammate?" Agent Taylor asked as he slowed his stride down enough to walk alongside the gray mallard.

Duke had only traveled to Britain with Nosedive, and from Agent Taylor's singular use of the word 'teammate' it was obvious that his agency had been keeping tabs on that. The agent most likely already knew the answer to his own question, but Duke responded anyways: "He's watchin' the Aerowing."

It wasn't that they didn't trust Britain. After all, the country was housing a criminal Puckworldian in a prison that they essentially designed for the Raptrin. Both Tanya and Duke had helped the government secure Falcone, since he was a well-known escape artist. But the ducks didn't know this area like they did Anaheim, and while Britain's government may have been allies, it was likely that many other unknown foes were just waiting for the opportunity to prey on the ducks' technology.

Agent Taylor did not seem taken aback by Duke's comment, so the officer at least had enough sense to realize it wasn't a direct insult to anyone in particular.

They had been zigzagging through multiple hallways by now, and while Duke was very good at memorizing his path, he could tell that the base was purposely built like a maze as an additional protective measure against potential escapees.

Agent Taylor had also used his badge four separate times to open various doors throughout the facility, another defensive tactic to keep people—or in this case, a Raptrin—locked in.

After the fourth badge swipe and another few random hallway turns, Duke and Agent Taylor found themselves in front of a large door guarded by two more officers. Agent Taylor turned to Duke as they approached the large doorway.

"You will need to relinquish your sword and knives here. They will be returned to you upon your return."

"I was wonderin' when you were gonna ask me fer t'em," Duke answered as he pulled his saber off his shoulder holster and handed it to one of the officers. He had already been told beforehand that this was policy, but only his saber was visible to the naked eye. His other knives were tucked into his boots, which meant he had been scanned at one point during his trip down here.

He obediently removed the additional weapons and handed them over as well. Agent Taylor nodded to the guards afterwards, and in turn one of the officers typed in the necessary access code to open the large door he was securing.

Agent Taylor made his way through the newly opened walkthrough, Duke following close behind. Along both sides of the hall were prison cells. As they walked past about three sets of them on either side, Duke noticed that they were all eerily empty and equipped with nothing more than the basic cot, toilet, and sink.

They stopped at the fourth set of cells and turned to the right to face one; it also appeared empty.

Agent Taylor took his badge and swiped it across the console next to the cell bars, causing the hologram to disappear and reveal the true interior of the cell.

Falcone, in basic prison garb, was standing and leaning against one of his cell walls, obviously expecting his visitors. While the hologram had depicted a very barren interior, the reality of his décor inside was slightly nicer: he had a small privacy wall for the toilet, a slightly thicker mattress for his cot, and even a small flat screen television mounted to the wall.

The hologram that had been hiding Falcone's room had also been a sound barrier, apparently, because the television was on and quietly talking as the evening news played on it.

"Doesn't it make it kinda hard to guard d'ese prisoners when you don't know if anyone's inside?" Duke asked, perplexed at both the purpose of and the technology being used in the weird, soundproof disguise.

"Those guarding the cells by video can see and hear clearly. The force fields being used here are to dissuade prisoners from conversing with one another. Some of the most brilliant minds are housed in the Queen's Den, and the less they can mingle together the better."

"Why thank you for such a lovely compliment, Henry," Falcone spoke up, facetiously placing his hand on his chest as if he'd been truly grateful for the unintended compliment.

The agent was smart enough to ignore the Raptrin. He turned back to Duke and simply said, "When you are ready to leave, Mr. L'Orange, please knock on the main door."

Duke nodded to Agent Taylor's instructions. The officer nodded back and quietly walked back down the hall, the large door shutting behind him. The two Puckworldians were left in relative silence after his retreat, and Duke had to wonder how many of the other cells were actually occupied as the agent had suggested.

"Ha! Mr. L'Orange. If he only knew the crimes you committed on Puckworld, I wonder if he'd still be so proper to you?" Falcone straightened up off the wall, advancing towards the bars of the cell.

Duke did not answer, only crossing his arms in response to Falcone's brash comment.

Falcone stopped short of touching the cell bars, which was wise considering they were electrified. The two Brotherhood members stood their ground, neither wavering from eye contact for some time.

Eventually, however, Falcone offered a dramatic sigh and turned back around in his cell. "Do you like my abode, Brother? It is rather charming; much better than that drab, dank basement I had been in before." The Raptrin had made a small circle in his cell, his arms wide to gesture at his surroundings as he spoke. He turned his snarky smile towards Duke and languidly walked back up to the bars. "It is rather flattering that this place was built on my behalf, I must admit."

The former thief did not reply to the Raptrin.

Falcone watched him again for a moment, his eyes calculating as ever. "I suppose you are wondering why I requested your presence."

Silence.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Falcone's face, but he covered it quickly. "Congratulations, by the way, on destroying the last Saurian Overlord. You'll be heroes back home."

"He isn't dead," Duke spoke for the first time, his voice even and neutral in tone.

Falcone, happy to get a response at all, raised his eyebrows at that remark. "Oh?" He pointed to his television. "I guess the media does exaggerate, then, because I'm pretty sure they showed a giant Raptor with flaming entrails plummet into the ocean."

"We destroyed his dimensional gateway generator, but his ship survived da crash."

"Been to the bottom of the ocean lately, hmm?"

Duke had no interest discussing with Falcone the ducks' plans to infiltrate the damaged ship next week. After the Raptor's crash into the ocean, they had negotiated the use of a U.S. Navy's submarine to check for any sign of life within the damaged vessel.

Unfortunately, they had found it.

After further negotiations, they were now preparing to board the ship and finish their mission once and for all.

The timing of Falcone's request to see the ducks had not gone unnoticed. The team knew he had access to current events and were cautiously curious to see what Falcone was wanting to address with them.

To show any semblance of hope to the master criminal, however, would doom them to his manipulation. That was also why Duke was alone on this trip: he knew Falcone better than anyone, and knew how to not get played by the con.

When it was clear that Duke would not be responding to Falcone's earlier question, the Raptrin continued, "Regardless, it was a brave thing to do, destroying your only way home."

"Yer point?"

"Imagine if," Falcone's hands popped open quietly like he was performing a magic trick, "you didn't."

"An' imagine if the War ne'er happened. Get to the point, Falcone."

Falcone's dramatization floundered at Duke's apathy and he sighed again. "You really don't let me have any fun." He pouted slightly, but quickly shook it off and smiled at Duke. "What if I told you that we do have a way home, after all?"

"We?" Duke asked incredulously.

"When Dragaunas brought me here, I was provided a teleporter with the coordinates back home."

It was something the ducks suspected, but hearing it from the source itself left Duke speechless. He covered his surprise with disbelief. "Even if d'at was true, we destroyed its power source. Teleporter don't work wi'hout power, Falcone."

"Oh, don't pretend that your resident techy can't recreate the necessary energy to create a wormhole.

"What about that little genius human, hmm? Wasn't he creating an artificial crystal equivalent to beryllium?"

Duke bristled at the mention of Buzz Blitsman. He shouldn't have been surprised that Falcone knew about the young genius' molecular formula, but it bothered him nonetheless. Buzz had since managed to stabilize the chemical structure, and it was in its final stages before production. Everything about it was being kept quiet, as the element was much more refined than the natural beryllium found on Earth.

Most of the beryllium on Earth was akin to what coal was before being heated and pressurized into diamond. The beryllium used by Dragaunas had gone through a natural process that gave it its well-known ethereal orange glow, and the process involved to replicate it was far beyond Earth's current technology.

So, by skipping the process itself and going straight to the recreation of beryllium's final stage, Buzz had successfully created a crystal that would revolutionize the power industry on Earth.

Once people understood what the beryllium could do, Dragaunas wouldn't be the only one wanting to get their hands on the chemical structure.

Presently, Duke remained quiet. Falcone was smart enough, however, to already know the answer to his own question.

"My request is minimal, you know. All I ask is that you take me with you."

"An' let you go when we get d'here."

Falcone smiled ruefully. "You can always try to catch me, of course."

"We already 'ave, if you 'aven't noticed the ten-by-ten square yer in."

The prisoner crossed his arms, his smile never wavering. "You do want to go home, don't you?"

Duke did not respond to the question right away, taking the time to calm his emotions and keep his tone neutral. A couple of calm, easy breaths later he replied, "Of course I do."

"Even with the Brotherhood ostracizing you? Your brother is in charge now, in case you haven't heard."

Duke shook his head, his own arms crossing over himself. "I'm not exactly privy to the going's on back home."

"No, perhaps not. But you mustn't be very thrilled knowing Colin is now in control."

"I'm not exactly surprised, e'ther."

"Truly, what will you do now? What's there to go back to?"

Duke glared at Falcone, his arms remaining lazily crossed even as his hands balled into tight fists from anger. "Yer right, what's d'ere to go back to? Guess d'at means I'll tell da ot'ers d'at yer lying."

The ex-thief turned around and began walking back to the door. From his peripheral vision he saw Faclone hurry up to the bars.

"You can fight your way back to the top, Duke! There are many that are still loyal to you."

Duke ignored him.

"Duke! This transporter can get us all home. Surely you wouldn't do this to the rest of your team. They have families back home! Lives!"

Reaching the door, Duke's arm went up to knock.

"You told me I always had an out!"

The gray mallard's arm floundered.

Falcone, realizing he had finally hit a nerve with Duke, calmed the desperation in his voice. "I want to use that out now."

Duke's teeth grinded against one another, his arm floundering some more before he fully relaxed it. He took a deep breath before turning around and walking back to the Raptrin.

Falcone watched him eagerly. "I was hoping to save on to it for a little longer, but it seems this may be the only means I have to negotiate with you."

"Don't push yer luck, Faclone."

The Raptrin shook his head. "No, of course not. I'm just thankful that you are keeping your word."

"A deal is a deal, e'en if da deal is wit' someone who doesn't keep d'eir word."

Falcone dramatically grimaced. "Ouch. I suppose I deserve that." He motioned with his arm to his eye: the same eye of Duke's that had the bionic installment. "How is the, uh, replacement doing, anyways?"

Duke rolled his one good eye. "It works."

"And the uh, infrared scanner?"

"Yes, Falcone, da scanner still gives me heat signatures."

"Good, good. I'm glad that doctor was legit in at least that." Falcone's hands went to his hips as he studied Duke. "At least you got Colin's arm for it."

"I didn't take Colin's arm, Ernie. Last I saw it was still attached."

"Ugh, please do not call me that. But you know what I mean: his arm's never been the same, since."

An image of the event flashed through Duke's mind and he almost flinched from the memory. His older brother, Colin, had always been more about strength than agility, and that pivotal moment in their fight still felt like it happened in slow motion. Duke had brought his saber up in a defensive maneuver just as Colin had brought his own saber down in a stabbing motion.

He had been aiming for Duke's heart, but Duke's crouch and defensive position had left the tip of the sword slashing his eye instead.

It would've gone further, if Duke hadn't held out his arms and saber as far as they could stretch. Colin's own appendage holding the sword had been forcefully sliced open at the forearm, by Duke's defensive stance with his blade.

Both brothers had separated at that point, one holding their eye and the other their arm. The fight was considered over at that point, as per Brotherhood rules: disabling an opponent without outright killing them meant that the challenger had failed.

Duke maintained his leadership status, and Colin was forced to bow out of the fight.

Unfortunately, being a well-known Brotherhood member that the government was constantly trying to take down meant that Duke could not go to the hospital to get treatment.

Falcone was as slimy then as he was now, but he never failed in knowing the right duck at the right time. In this instance, he happened to have an old partner that performed quite a few black-market operations involving bionic replacements.

Duke had just wanted treatment for the eye, but it became quickly apparent that one could not swordfight without depth perception, at least not without re-training yourself from square one.

With Colin still alive and probably as angry as ever, Duke needed to wield his saber again as quickly as possible. And inspection of the damage from the shady doctor had told him that he would never be able to see through that eye again.

Not naturally, anyways.

The bionic fitting wasn't cheap, in more ways than one. In addition to a hefty sum of goods to the doctor, Duke had given Falcone a promise, one he had never made to anyone: an out.

Falcone had a penchant for getting himself in trouble, and when the time came where the Raptrin was figuratively or literally backed into a corner, one call to Duke would require the Brotherhood leader to lend him whatever was needed to set his smarmy friend free.

It was the largest price Duke had ever paid.

"It's a shame, about the rules. Without Colin's fighting arm you could've easily finished the job once and for all."

A low growl escaped Duke's beak before he could stop it. "I'm not a murderer, Falcone. Rules are d'here fer a reason."

"Yes, yes, we can rob 'em blind but no unnecessary bloodshed and all that head-held-high rubbish. Honestly Duke, are you that surprised Colin challenged you? We had to give up dozens of jobs because of your rules."

"My rules? You mean da rules of the Brot'erhood for six generations that I refused to change?"

Falcone waved him off. "Oh, whichever. Times change, ol' lad, and sometimes a little fighting was the only way we were going to survive."

Duke sighed and absentmindedly rubbed the top of his beak tiredly. "Where's the transporter, Falcone?" he asked, changing the subject.

Falcone was quiet at that, and Duke had to look up to see that the Raptrin was staring at him fiercely.

In a language that only Duke and Falcone would know on this planet—the Brotherhood language meant to be said only within the confines of their establishment—Falcone asked the simple question, "Does my Brother honor me?"

The Raptrin's simple words seem to cause time to stop as thoughts raced through Duke's mind. Everything was being recorded, and the ducks would no doubt watch everything unfold. At this point in time, they would assume that Falcone might've told Duke the whereabouts of the transporter in a foreign language.

Tanya would be suspicious, and would interrogate Duke on the language. Given time, she could probably translate it. It was not a hard language, but was never meant to be—it was something that was used within the Brotherhood as a means of recognizing one another. It was not meant to talk to each other without being understood on the surface. Allowing the misuse of the language there would allow for others to hear it, learn it, and mimic it, which would endanger the lives of those underground should an outsider find their way into their home.

The rules explicitly stated that the language was to be kept off the surface of Puckworld and only between those that were suspected to be Brotherhood members. By technicality, Falcone had not broken either rule, though he had to know this meeting was being watched intensively by others.

Falcone wanted the Brotherhood promise to his freedom, and Duke knew what that meant. Duke could pretend that he and his team would take Falcone back to Puckworld, to be tried for his crimes of treason. But his underlying promise to the Raptrin—by Brotherhood blood and honor—would mean he would have to let Falcone free once back home.

And he would have to accomplish it without arising suspicion of his teammates.

It was his promise to the Raptrin many years ago, and Falcone had decided to use it where it would hurt Duke the most.

In what had only been a couple seconds in passing, Duke responded to the Raptrin without using the secret language: "I promised you an out, Falcone. You're gettin' that out from Earth, so long as you tell me where that transporter is hidden."

Falcone's eyes squinted slightly, and he watched a subtle finger movement on Duke's right hand, just beneath the crook of his elbow where his arms were crossed. By way of the video cameras on either corner of the walls, the movement would not be picked up.

"That's all yer getting' from me," Duke continued. "When we get back to Puckworld, we'll see how well you deal wit' da Puckworld Forces Penitentiary."

Falcone's eyes widened at the mention of one of Puckworld's most notorious detention centers, but Duke knew it was a ruse. Falcone had recognized and understood the gray mallard's unspoken communication.

Despite his facetious act of surprise, Falcone quickly replaced the expression with a careful smirk. "You can do your best, ol' chap." He paused and made eye contact with one of the cameras.

"Tell your dashing captain of the group that, once the generator is created, I will show you the location of the transporter." His calculating eyes levelled back to Duke's and he added, "Meanwhile, I'll enjoy the amenities of this fine establishment. Might as well enjoy the freedom I have now, until you solidify the good guy routine by dropping me in handcuffs at the Council's door, hmm?"

Duke did not respond. Falcone would have to be released to retrieve the transporter, and he knew the Raptrin would keep his word because—traitor or not—Falcone wanted to go home as badly as the rest of them.

He took a step back, watching as Falcone smiled ruefully at him. The Raptrin gave a cute little finger gesture of goodbye, barely moving his hand and only wiggling his fingers, before turning his attention back to the television still playing in quiet monotones.

A heavy weight rested on Duke's shoulders as he slowly turned around and headed to the door. He was the ex-leader of the Brotherhood of the Blade, and a pardoned thief for his assistance during the Saurian War.

He was a Strike Force member now, and hopefully with that title came the accomplishment of defeating Dragaunas once and for all.

But his heritage was a tentacle that had pulled him back for one last task. One last promise that was made what felt like an eternity ago.

"Keep in touch, Duke!"

Duke couldn't control his teeth from grinding together in irritation. He ignored the prisoner's call and knocked on the door as he'd been instructed, impatiently waiting as one of the guard members opened it so he could leave.

As he was handed his weapons, the heavy door to the set of cells closed with reverberation throughout the long hallway, and Duke felt the echo weigh him down even further.

He could lie, and tell his team what Falcone expected of him. They would ensure that Falcone's escape attempt would be in vain, even without Duke's help. They would help him if he just told them.

A saying passed through his head as he met up with Agent Taylor and was guided back towards the entrance to the facility:

Honor isn't about making the right choices. It's about dealing with the consequences.

Ex-thief or ex-leader, Duke was and would always be a Brother.

And he had a heavy promise to keep.

fin