Green Valor

Red goggles

The quiet, rural outskirts of Rainbow City, where two young boys, Jack and James Evergreen, had matching bright green eyes and pinecone coloured hair. They lived on a modest apple farm. Far removed from the political turbulence gripping the nation under the presidency of Avis Cordero, their lives seem simpler but are not without their own turmoil.
Cordero had been elected president after Yoshi, once a loyal ally, was imprisoned for the assassination of Cordero's political rival. Since then, the nation had been divided, but for Jack, the youngest of the Evergreen brothers, Cordero was more than just a politician.
He was a symbol of power, charisma, and success. Jack admired him, listening to his songs on repeat while practicing guitar, dreaming of fame and fortune in a world far beyond the apple orchards.
Jack had a memory, often playing in his mind like a recurring dream. He could still see his father, standing in the orchards at sunset, peeling apples with his special dagger.
The blade was smooth and sharp, moving effortlessly through the apple's skin in one long, elegant strip. Jack had idolized his father for his patience, his skill, and his ambition. His father had always talked about expanding the farm, turning their small orchard into something grander—something that could rival the larger farms closer to Rainbow City.
But one day, Jack's father disappeared.
It wasn't sudden, but it was unexplained. He had simply left the farm, and he never returned. At first, Jack waited for him to come back, thinking maybe his father had gone to make a big business deal or to scout new land.
But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and the realization hit hard. His father was gone.
Their mother never forgave him. She had her own story, one she repeated over and over like a bitter mantra: their father had abandoned them, running away from his responsibilities and the stress of the farm.
Jack had stopped asking questions after a while, but deep down, he never truly believed that story. His father wasn't the type to just leave. Something else had happened, and Jack was determined to find out what it was.
James, the eldest of the two, took the disappearance differently. He was practical and focused on keeping the farm running, but he harbored his own silent resentment.
He didn't listen to Cordero's music or daydream about fame. Instead, James worked day and night, trying to fill the void their father had left behind. He didn't have time for idols.
Jack, on the other hand, found solace in his guitar, strumming the chords of Cordero's songs in the quiet of the farmhouse.
He dreamed of a life beyond the farm, of becoming a musician like Cordero and escaping the confines of the apple orchard. He often sat on the porch, staring at the horizon, wondering if his father was out there somewhere, living the life he'd always wanted.
But as much as Jack admired Cordero, he also began to notice the cracks. Cordero's presidency was not without controversy, and even in the far outskirts of Rainbow City, whispers of corruption and tyranny reached the farm.
Jack's mother would often mutter darkly about the "men in power" and how they all turned out the same, but Jack didn't want to believe it about Cordero. He wanted to believe that Cordero was different, that he could rise above the corruption and stay true to his music and his ideals.
One evening, after a long day of work, Jack sat under the old apple tree, the one his father used to sit beneath, and played a soft tune on his guitar. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the orchard. The scent of apples filled the air, and for a moment, Jack felt like his father was still there, watching over him.
James appeared, wiping sweat from his brow, and sat beside him. He didn't say anything for a while, just listened to the melody.
"You still think about him?" James finally asked, his voice low and tired.
Jack stopped playing, looking up at his older brother. "Yeah. All the time."
James nodded, but his expression was hard. "Mom doesn't talk about him anymore."
"I know."
"You think he's coming back?"
Jack hesitated. "I don't know. Maybe he's not. But I don't think he just left us."
James sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "You always were the dreamer, Jack."
Jack didn't reply, and the silence between them grew heavy. In the distance, the radio hummed with one of Cordero's latest songs. Jack strummed a few more chords on his guitar, trying to lighten the mood, but James stood up, heading back toward the house.
"Don't get lost in that music, Jack," James warned as he walked away. "We've got a farm to run."
Jack watched him go, the weight of his brother's words pressing down on him. He knew James was right in some ways, but Jack couldn't help but feel there was more to life than just the farm. There had to be.
As the last light of the day faded, Jack's thoughts drifted back to his father, to the memory of that special dagger and the way he used to peel apples with such care. He would find out the truth one day. And maybe, just maybe, Cordero would help him escape this life—if only he could follow in his footsteps.
Jack Evergreen had always been the dreamer of the family, and his days reflected that. While his older brother James handled the harder tasks of the farm with a grim sense of duty, Jack found joy in the smaller, more whimsical aspects of their rural life.
One of his favorite chores was tending to the goats. He liked their simplicity, their innocence, and how they never demanded too much from him. Sometimes, he'd sit with them for hours, leaning against the fence, lost in thought.
When he wasn't with the goats, Jack spent his free time indulging in comics—his escape from the mundanity of farm life. He loved stories about heroes fighting evil, saving the day, and standing up against impossible odds.
He'd sit under the big apple tree near the barn, a strip of moose jerky hanging from his mouth as he flipped through pages of colorful heroes battling nefarious villains. Jack always envisioned himself as one of them, soaring above the world like Avis Cordero, a hero not just in music but in the political arena as well.
"Cordero's a real-life hero, ya know," Jack would often say to James. "He's done so much for this country. He fought off enemies, brought stability, and even makes music that lifts people's spirits."
James, who had no patience for Jack's idol worship, would just grumble in response. He didn't care for Cordero's fame or politics. All James saw was a man who lived far above the struggles of people like them, disconnected from their hard reality.
One late afternoon, Jack was sitting by the barn with his goats, munching on moose jerky and engrossed in the latest comic issue, when James stormed over. His face was red with frustration.
"Jack! Did you forget something?" James barked, his voice cutting through the calm of the farm.
Jack blinked, looking up from his comic. "Uh... no?"
"The well, Jack! You were supposed to gather water hours ago. It's your job today, remember?"
Jack winced, realization hitting him. "Oh, right. Sorry, I got caught up."
James scowled, shaking his head. "Caught up in those stupid comics again? We can't afford to be lazy, Jack. Get your head out of the clouds and help out around here!"
"Ah said I'm sorry," Jack mumbled, stuffing his comic into his pocket as he stood. "I'll get the water now."
"Yeah, well, don't take too long. The well's not exactly close, and it's getting dark soon," James warned, though his voice had softened a bit.
Jack hurried off, slinging a pair of buckets over his shoulder as he made his way toward the well, which lay at the edge of their property, near the forest. It was a long walk, and Jack's mind wandered as he trudged down the path.
He thought about his father again—about how much he'd loved the farm before he disappeared. And then his thoughts shifted to Cordero, imagining what it must be like to have that kind of power and influence. If Cordero could run the country and still make time for music, why couldn't Jack balance farm work and his own dreams?
As Jack approached the well, he noticed the air felt heavier than usual, and there was an eerie stillness in the trees.
The distant sounds of nature seemed to fade, replaced by an unsettling silence. He shrugged it off, setting the buckets down and pulling up the rope to begin filling them with water.
Then, a sudden, thunderous explosion shattered the quiet.
Jack's heart leaped into his throat. He turned sharply in the direction of the noise and saw, far off in the distance, a cloud of smoke rising from the horizon.
His breath caught as the unmistakable sound of gunfire and explosions echoed through the air.
The sirens wailed of an oncoming invasion. His chest tightened in panic.
It was Archer's Fallere group—he had heard rumors of the terrorist faction growing bold, but never imagined they'd come so close to his home.
Gore and destruction followed as the missiles started to rain down, one by one, hitting random targets with explosive force.
Tanks rolled through the distant hills, their massive treads tearing into the earth as soldiers fired wildly in all directions. The once peaceful farm was being thrown into chaos.
Jack's hands trembled as he dropped the rope and grabbed the buckets. He needed to get back home—James was there, and so was his mother. They wouldn't survive if the fighting reached their farm.
His legs moved on instinct, and he sprinted through the fields, dodging debris and smoke. As he ran, more missiles screamed overhead, striking the land around him.
He could feel the heat from the explosions and hear the cries of people caught in the crossfire. The once-beautiful apple orchards were being blown apart, trees set ablaze, their fruit scattered like burning embers.
Terror gripped him, but Jack pushed through it. He had to reach his family.
He could see the farmhouse in the distance now, but it felt so far away, as if the land stretched endlessly between him and safety.
The sound of tanks grew louder, and he turned to see a massive war machine rumbling toward the edge of the forest, spewing smoke and gunfire. His heart raced, and his mind screamed for him to move faster.
In the chaos, Jack stumbled, crashing to the ground as another explosion ripped through the field beside him. Dirt and ash rained down, but he scrambled back to his feet, his thoughts only on James and his mother. He had to make it home before it was too late.
Jack stumbled toward the farmhouse, heart pounding in his chest, every breath ragged from the panic coursing through him. The missiles and gunfire behind him were relentless, but now all that mattered was his family. As he approached the door, he noticed it was ajar, swinging slightly in the breeze.
Something was wrong.
His stomach twisted as he pushed open the door. The living room was in shambles, furniture overturned, blood smeared on the floor. A metallic smell hit him, thick in the air. His mind raced, and before he could think, he sprinted into the house, calling for his brother.
"James! Mom! Where are you?"
No answer.
He moved deeper into the house, his eyes scanning for any sign of them. When he reached the kitchen, his blood froze. James was on the floor, lying in a pool of his own blood, eyes wide and unseeing. A knife was still buried in his chest. Jack's breath caught in his throat, and the world around him spun.
"No... no, no, no," Jack muttered, dropping to his knees beside his brother. His hands shook as he reached out to touch him, but James was cold—too cold.
Then, from the next room, he heard a muffled scream. His mother.
Jack shot up and ran toward the sound, heart pounding in his ears. He burst into his parents' bedroom and froze in horror. There, standing over his mother, was a masked man—Wolf, the leader of the Fallere. His face was scarred, his eyes dark and soulless. He had his mother pinned down, his knife raised high in the air.
"Get away from her!" Jack screamed, charging at the man with all the fury and fear he had in him.
He collided with Wolf, tackling him away from his mother, both of them crashing into the dresser. Jack's hands went for the knife, but Wolf was stronger, his grip unrelenting. Jack punched him, clawed at him, but it was like fighting a mountain. Wolf grabbed Jack by the throat and slammed him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him.
"You think you can stop me, boy?" Wolf growled, his breath hot and foul.
Jack gasped for air, struggling against Wolf's grip. He could see his mother trying to crawl away, but she was too slow, too weak. In a swift motion, Wolf kicked Jack to the ground and stalked toward his mother, his knife glinting in the dim light.
"No! Stop!" Jack shouted, crawling after him, but it was too late.
Wolf plunged the knife into his mother's chest, her scream cutting through the room before fading into a gurgling silence. Jack's world shattered as he watched the life drain from her eyes. He reached out to her, but she was gone—just like James.
"No... no... please..." Jack cried, collapsing beside her, his whole body trembling in grief.
Wolf looked down at him, his face void of emotion. "Weak," he muttered, wiping the blood from his blade. "Just like the rest of them."
But before Wolf could strike again, the door burst open, and gunfire filled the room. Cordero's super soldiers had arrived. They stormed the farmhouse, weapons blazing, engaging Wolf in a firefight. The Fallere leader cursed under his breath, knowing he was outnumbered. In the chaos, Wolf managed to flee, disappearing into the night, leaving Jack behind, crumpled on the floor beside his mother's body.
The gunfire outside continued as Cordero's forces battled the remnants of the Fallere. The super soldiers moved with cold precision, wiping out the terrorists one by one. But to Jack, the world had gone quiet. He couldn't hear the fighting—he couldn't hear anything but his own sobs as he held his mother's hand, feeling the warmth slip away from her.
One of the Cordero super soldiers, a towering figure clad in iconic dark blue uniform, approached Jack. The soldier's red goggles glowed faintly, giving him an almost otherworldly presence. He looked down at the boy, assessing the situation before kneeling beside him.
"You're safe now," the soldier said, his voice cold but steady. "He's gone."
Jack looked up, his face streaked with tears. He saw the blood, the destruction, and then his eyes fell on something else—the knife Wolf had dropped. It lay on the ground, still wet with his mother's blood.
Something inside Jack snapped. Without thinking, he reached for the knife, gripping the handle tightly. He didn't care that his hands were shaking, or that his whole body was numb with grief. All he knew was that this knife—the knife that had killed his family—was now his.
The super soldier watched in silence, his helmet hiding any expression he might've had. "You need to leave this place," he finally said, standing up. "The fighting's not over. Get out of here before more come."
But Jack didn't move. He just sat there, staring at the knife in his hand, feeling a strange sense of resolve wash over him.
The soldier stepped back, his attention returning to the battle outside. As he marched out of the house, Jack stood slowly, the knife clutched in his hand. He walked toward the door, glancing back at his broken home one last time.
He was no longer the boy who read comics under the apple tree. That boy was gone. Now, all that remained was someone who had lost everything—and he wasn't going to forget it.