A Reason for Treason (Kent One-Shot)

    Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t like him when he was a kidnapper, and I still wanted to get away from him even when he wasn’t trying to hurt me. After he caught me as I fell from a ladder, I still wanted to get away. Could I understand that he had a reason for prying the information from me? Of course. Did I realize it could have been a lot worse? Without a doubt. Did I sympathize with or want to stay with him? Not a bit.

    I wasn’t exactly pleased to see him three years later, either. Of course I tried to run! The man nearly killed me. But, when I realized Ace was actually trying to help me this time around, and make up for what he did, I agreed to work with him, at least until the Wolgolveri were disposed of. Damn, was he a completely different person. Incredibly guilty and regretful of what he had done. He really just wanted to make up for it.

    He apologized for what he’d done. He said I could leave at any time. He never yelled at me or forced me to do something while I was with him. He honestly went from cruel captor to kind man. I learned what happened. Butch messed with him. Tampered with his head and trained him to be a monster. I know a thing or two about the influence of training.

    Speaking of the British army, McCain was crueler than Ace had ever been. At least Ace had a reason. McCain just seemed to hate us foot soldiers. He kept discipline, the other officers above him said. Bullshit, he kept us in line with fear tactics. He was practically Ace, but without reason or restraint. This tiny scar on my face isn’t even close to the lashes on my back. While I didn’t wish to be back with Ace and Renegade, as the blows rained down on my back I did wish it was Ace I had pissed off instead of McCain. Ace—who never would have gone after innocents--would have maybe done one lash and called it quits. McCain continued even after my back was a mess of bloody flesh.

    Pretty bad when your own commander, whom you’re supposed to trust with your life, makes you wish for captivity. Although, come to think about it, the ultimate reason I chose to stay with Ace had nothing to do with Ace himself. Don’t get me wrong, get to know the guy he’s pretty hilarious and friendly. Did you know he can sing? For all that growl and rasp in his tone, his singing voice is astonishing. You should hear him sing Africa or The Lion Sleeps Tonight. But anyways, I enjoy his company now, he’s easily my closest friend. But ultimately the reason I left the British army was the army itself.

    Yeah, life was shit there. Poor food, horrid living conditions—we often had nothing more than a thin blanket and a sparse straw mattress to sleep on in the winter—and severe punishment for even the smallest insurrection. I’d mention the pay, but not much to mention. A significant chunk was eaten up by our uniform and weapon. We had to pay for our equipment ourselves. No, we weren’t reimbursed. So that’s why you read accounts of soldiers taking work from the Bostonian locals. We barely had enough to get by. Some men were starving.

    What did we gain from all this? Only more abuse. The only people who liked us were the Tories, but even then we regular soldiers were hardly regarded as humans. Our commanders didn’t treat us well, seeing us more as work animals, and the colonists, who already didn’t like us for simply trying to stay fed and have a warm bed at night, followed their example. Throw rocks, snowballs, ice, and anything else they could at us. What? Yes, I was stationed in a fort in the woods when Ace first caught me, but after the incident and McCain’s lashing I was transferred to Captain Taylor’s—yes the same one who is now in charge of Scarlett’s Redbacks—and to Boston where he was stationed. I have to thank Scarlett for the transfer.

    My point is I spent around two years in Boston. I endured the insults, projectiles, and seething hatred from the colonists that never ceased. I never knew people could be so hateful. They acted like I wanted to be there. I didn’t! I don’t think any foot soldier did really. We had families back in England. I doubt the colonists even thought about that. They saw our scarlet uniforms, polished guns, glimmering bayonets, and nothing else. We were faceless obstacles to their freedom.

    Freedom does have a certain equity. A certain call. Be your own boss, do as you please, live how you want, no officers to punish you if you messed up. Who wouldn’t want freedom? I may not have fought in the American Revolution, but I can assure you some soldiers wanted freedom as bad as the Americans they were fighting. Just look at the amount of deserters who started life over in the colonies. Hell, some of ‘em ended up with Ace as I did. Freedom was one of the reasons I deserted, although there were many more.

    Although yes, I had punishment waiting on me if I returned to the army—I killed a captain after all—I discovered that wasn’t the main reason I stayed. In the early years, loyalty to Ace and his family wasn’t what kept me there either. Granted, it didn’t take long for that to happen. They sorta… absorb you. You know how they say don’t ever mess with something a Rageryan considers theirs? Extremely relevant, especially when it’s a Rageryans family. If I thought Ace was vicious before, it was nothing compared to the rage and brutality he displayed when he caught the people who kidnapped his daughter once. That pile of parts didn’t remotely resemble anything living, let alone a human.

    No, in the beginning, I stayed because the quality of life improved far beyond what I even thought possible. I suddenly had my own two story room. Never before had I thought it possible I’d have my own room, let alone a two story one. One of the perks of living in a massive alien castle, along with the indoor plumbing. My clothes no longer itched and pulled, but breathed and allowed for free range movement. The food greatly improved in both quality and quantity. Ace actually got upset if he didn’t think I had enough to eat. I no longer had to stay within the camp boundaries or risk punishment. I could say I was going for a walk and Ace would just tell me to be careful and be back by sun down. That never would have happened in the army. My opinion also mattered. If something didn’t sit right with me, I could go to Ace and he’d address it or tell me why it was like that. It was never “Because I said so”. There was always a concrete reason.

    And while the training was intense—you should have seen my first time in the anti-gravity chamber—I had more time to relax. I could just lay outside in the grass, dozing in the sun, and not get yelled at. I was pretty startled when Ace almost flopped on top of me, but turned out Rageryans bond by taking naps in a massive pile. When I first saw Ace, his siblings, his mom, his kids, and Renegade sleeping in a massive cat-pile, I understood why Ace was so hands on and didn’t get the concept of personal space. To Rageryans, the concept doesn’t exist.

    As far as punishment went, I usually just had to clean the stables or run laps. Occasionally I’d get a swat on the side of the head, but never was I beaten or lashed. I’ll tell you what, when you go from harsh British army discipline to milder yet just as effective Ace punishments, your desire to stay will astonish you. In a strange way, milder punishments will make you more honest. You’re not as scared to tell the truth even when it’s something you weren’t supposed to do.

    So, there you have it, kid. Why I stayed with Ace. My reason for treason, if you will.