“Another Turning Point”

Chapter Three: Taking Direction

Wildwing fumed. He couldn’t allow his brother to be torn away from him. Nosedive would be devastated, and dear Stars, so would he. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t lose Nosedive again.

“However,” the general continued, his voice piercing Wildwing’s thoughts, “if you were to encourage your brother to enroll, there might be a chance Icebeak would reconsider his injunction.”

Wildwing stared dazedly his palms, open and vulnerable. Sharply, he shook his head. “No,” he refused flatly. His hand curled into tight fists. “Nosedive will not come back here. I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Wildwing,” the headmaster eased, taking a seat next to the distraught older brother.

An acute glower, intense with absolute determination, penetrated the headmaster’s firm composure. “I will make a choice.”

The headmaster nodded in agreement. “Good.”

*^*^*

Leaning against the doorframe, Wildwing watched his brother intently. Like a lost teenager, Nosedive sat on the ledge of his room’s balcony, his arms wrapped about his legs, knees pressed to his chest. He stared idly into the Stars, and according to Harper, Nosedive had done the exact same thing when he was in war. Wildwing redirected his gaze for a moment. This time, there was no one coming home. Harper was gone, and nothing Wildwing could do would bring him back. By the same token, there was nothing Wildwing could do to stop his brother’s pain or stop the maniac from threatening Nosedive’s life.

He continued to stand at the entrance of the room, attempting to give his brother some privacy. In the weeks since the arrival of the horrifying pictures, Nosedive had received precious little. To his chagrin, a person even accompanied the younger mallard into the bathroom, albeit standing with their back to Nosedive. It was embarrassing and at times, downright weird, but still, if that was what it took to keep Nosedive alive, then so bet it.

Scowling, the pictures still lingered in Wildwing’s mind like a bad memory. They stung him, and if they hurt him, they must still be prolonging agony for his little brother.

Finally, looking down at his watch, Wildwing realized it was almost time for bed. After all, they were bunking together, taking turns on the couch and in the chair in the living room. Yet, that wasn’t the reason Wildwing had switched shifts with Canard. He had to tell his brother about Icebeak. Dreading Nosedive’s reaction, Wildwing decided not to waste anymore time and stepped into the room.

Nosedive seemed to notice him instantly, smiling softly. “Hey, big bro.”

Wildwing returned the tentative smile. “Hey, Dive. What are you thinking about?”

A reminiscent, forlorn smile crossed Nosedive’s features, and a deep, abysmal darkness remained in his eyes. “I was just thinking about Dad, y’know?”

“Anything particular?” Wildwing prompted, taking a seat on the edge as well. He wasn’t at all comfortable, but he might as settle down. By the looks of it, he wasn’t getting to bed early tonight, but he already knew that.

Nosedive shrugged distractedly, clutching his legs a little tighter. “I was remembering the night he left again, y’know? He apologized to me for being away so often. He actually apologized.” He tipped his head forward, so as to hide his tears from his brother. “I told him I didn’t want to go. I asked him not to. I pleaded with him.” Twinkling streams coursed down his cheeks, causing his long bangs to stick to the sides of his redden face. “I said it didn’t matter what he was doing. I just wanted him to be here and not to go away again. He kept going away longer and longer, and he stopped coming to my games, and we never saw each other. I know it was selfish, but I wanted him home when I got there after school, or I wanted to meet him at his office. I wanted him to get on me for not doing my homework or leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor. I actually left them there the whole two weeks, so when he came home, he would yell at me. I wanted him to so…so I got to see him.”

“That’s not selfish,” Wildwing said kindly.

“But I forgot!” The teen blustered, clutching the lavaliere about his neck grasp. “I forgot! I was looking so forward to him being home again that I actually wanted to go to that stupid function he had to go to, and I forgot! If I wouldn’t have forgotten—”

Wildwing seized his crying brother in his arms. “No. It’s not your fault, Nosedive. Please don’t believe that.”

“But I wasn’t there!”

“You would have died then. The man would have killed you both.” Wildwing tightened his embrace, if just to draw his brother closer to him, to feel him against him. He closed his eyes in horrid knowledge of what might have occurred his brother had remembered, and there was no way he could suppress the shiver that wracked his body.

“Baby brother,” Wildwing started gently, nuzzling the top of Nosedive’s head, “things happen for a reason. We might never know what that reason is, but they happen because of some higher power.” He pulled away slightly, but still cradling Nosedive’s back. He stared deeply into his brother’s trembling eyes. “You have to believe that there was nothing you could have done. If you would have been home first, you could have been the one that was killed, not your father.”

“But—”

“No.” Wildwing clamped his hand over his brother’s beak. “Your father would have wanted it this way, not reversed.”

Nosedive reclaimed his beak with one jerk of his head. “But Wing…” He released the necklace, his hand falling to his brother’s shirt. “I miss him so much.”

“And you always will,” Wildwing resigned, “but he will be always here.” He pressed his hand against his brother’s chest. “Right here.”

Looking down at his chest, then at his brother, Nosedive spat, “Wing, that is lame.”

Wildwing tasseled his brother’s growing long hair. “Brat.” He moved to help his brother off the ledge when his eyes caught the glimmer of the lavaliere dangling about neck. “Hey, where did you that?”

Nosedive smiled albeit tearfully. “Dad gave it to me before he left the last time. He always made a point of saying how I wore necklaces every day.” He shrugged. “I guess I got accustomed to it wearing the H.O.C.-Key all the time. So, he said he’d wanted to get me something a little more expensive and worth more than the chokers I was wearing. I dunno why, but he was really apprehensive about me not telling anyone where I got it. I think that was just because he spent a lot of money on…it…” His words trailed to nothing at the his brother gaped fiercely at him. “What?”

“Don’t you get it?” Wildwing inquired.

“Uh, if I did, would I be asking?”

Wildwing rolled his eyes. “That’s it. The initiation. That’s what the killer’s been after.”

“But it’s just a necklace,” Nosedive dismissed.

“And so was the H.O.C.-Key,” Wildwing objected sardonically.

Nosedive glowered at him, then wiggled the necklace about his fingers. He frowned intensely. “Well, what do we do with it? My dad died for this. We can’t give it to the killer.” He firmed his resolve. “I’m not giving it to the killer.”

Wildwing helped Nosedive to his feet, then secured the teen next to him. “I have an idea.”

Looking up at him, Nosedive scoffed, “When don’t you?”

Wildwing tasseled the boy’s hair yet again, then nuzzled his cheek before leading him back into the house. A sinking feeling gripped him—he still hadn’t told Nosedive what he needed to.

Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah.

Maybe.

*^*^*

“Uh, is there anything normal on this menu?” Nosedive asked skeptically, his eyes darting back and forth on the page.

Shane smirked at him from across the table. “What’s not normal about snake?”

Nosedive chose to ignore the quip and instead, sent him daggers. It was more like an unspoken threat, but he spoke it anyway. “I know where you sleep.”

Canard nudged his brother in the side. “You might want to watch that. One time when I won over a thousand bucks from him, he put worms in my boots.”

“That’s only because you conferring with Phil!” Nosedive scowled. “And you still owe me three hundred credits.”

“Dollars,” Canard corrected.

“We’re not on Earth, so it’s credits.”

“Dollars.”

“Credits.”

“Doll—”

“Enough!” Wildwing exasperated, waving his hand over the middle of the table. “If we can come up with the exchange rate later, then we’ll settle this, okay?”

Nosedive glowered at Canard before gazing at his menu. “Credits.” “Dollars.”

Wildwing glared at Nosedive, which looked ridiculously close to his father’s, “Cut it out or else.” And, like with Harper, Nosedive was rendered quiet.

Silence befell upon the group as his roommates checked out the menu, and Nosedive perused the restaurant. It was definitely something else. For one accustomed to higher class society with tablecloths and napkins that had no business being on the table, but on the lap, the wooden table amidst blue-lighted eating area was slightly disconcerting. In the middle of the room, where they thankfully weren’t sitting, was the kitchen. Pieces of meat and dead animals, which Nosedive couldn’t defer, hung, ready to be cooked. The chefs worked diligently over a fire-churning pit around which they stewed, chopped, and whatever else they did to the animals to be eaten. Hanging from the ceiling was identical pots, burning to light up the sections that weren’t coated by the blue lights. Suddenly, his attention was stolen by the sight of a bug crawling across the table. He smashed it with his menu.

“Dinner anyone?” Wildwing joked.

Nosedive felt the bile rise in his throat.

“Kid, you okay?” Canard asked, laying a hand on Nosedive’s shoulder. “Exotic foods don’t agree with you?”

Nosedive couldn’t answer. He slapped his hand over his beak, his light lunch suddenly bubbling up his throat. He shot from the table as he abruptly was not okay and rushed toward the bathroom, wherever that was.

Watching the teen disappear, Shane leaned over the table. “Have you told him yet?”

Wildwing’s eyes didn’t rise from the menu. “Does it look like I told him?”

“Wildwing, you have to tell him!”

“I will…” Wildwing added softly, “…eventually.”

“I don’t know if you noticed this or not,” Canard interjected with reservation, “but Icebeak filed the injunction two days ago. The cops and child services could be at our door any day now, and then what will you do? Fight them off?”

“If I have to,” Wildwing said distractedly, still examining the menu.

Shane snatched the menu from his little brother’s hands and disregarded the sputtered protests. “Look. You have to tell him,” he instructed in a firm, fierce tone. He cut his brother off when Wildwing opened his beak, “You do, Wildwing.”

“Why? Just so he can be worried?”

“So he can be prepared rather than having this sprung on him out of nowhere,” Shane retorted. “If you don’t tell him, when authorities come to get him, he’ll cling to you and scream and cry, and so will you. Do you want it to be a dramatic, potentially scarring event?”

Wildwing remained silent until he conceded. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell him.”

“And it’s better if you don’t fight,” Canard established. “If you do, there’s a chance that they’ll see you as a threat to Nosedive. The best thing you can do is let them take Dive and then get him back.”

“Are you crazy!” Wildwing exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. “I’m just supposed to let them take my brother away without his consent?”

“Canard’s right,” Shane agreed dismally. “Harper left you custody. There is no doubt that once this hits the courts, you’ll get Dive back, but until then…” He paused, seeing the trepidation in his brother’s eyes “He’ll be okay there. He’ll see you everyday. You’ll probably even have him in class. I know it might not be the best, but it’s the only option we have.”

*^*^*

Leaning over the sink, Nosedive waited to wretch. Just the sights, the smells, the bugs…He shivered uncontrollably. He had to get out of here…or maybe just not go back out there. Oh, man, whatever happened to not seeing the food until it was done?

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the shadow crouching toward him.

Pushing back the hair from his head, he looked into the mirror. His eyes widened considerably at the sight of the glimmering knife in the reflection. Ducking as it was swiped overhead, he instinctively kicked outward, hitting the figure directly in the stomach. The shadow flung backwards and smacked into the wall, groaning lowly.

Nosedive brought his fists upward, standing in a defensive manner. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Covered from head to toe in black, the figure regained its footing and shifted into a fighting position as well. It seemed to slither from shadow to shadow, as Nosedive and the masked killer circled the bathroom, neither wanting to make the first move.

It was then, in the dim light, that Nosedive saw the outline of the killer. Certain parts of his anatomy were absent, while others were shockingly there. The killer wasn’t a he—He was a she.

“You know what I want,” she relayed, then jerked, lunging toward him.

Too fast, she slammed full-force into Nosedive before he could blink, and both collapsed to the floor. His head smacking against the floor, Nosedive grunted in pain, as the world seemed to spin off its axis. He writhed under her weight, her body straddled across his waist. Abruptly, two lithe hands ravaged his neck, probing, searching. He shivered, too many memories surging up into his conscious from his past, from the Saurians…He blinked, trying to get his bearing as she continued to touch him—under his shirt, by his chest, his jean pockets. As she patted down his waist, he regained his motors and thrust her off him with a fierce growl.

Righting himself, leaning heavily on door handle of the room, he spotted, despite his helter-skelter vision, the dangerous female not too far away.

“Where is it?” she demanded, leveling a launcher at his chest. In fact, the end of it touched his shirt.

“Kill me, and you’ll never get it,” he replied sharply, his center of gravity inexorably returning.

“I won’t have to.” She gripped the front of his shirt and slammed his back against the wall. Opening the door a fraction, she peered out. Even though he couldn’t see her face, obscured under a mask of black, he heard the amused malevolence in her voice. “You have a nice family out there, Flashblade. They have rallied around you in the absence of your father. It would a shame to lose one or perhaps them all?”

Growling, Nosedive smashed the door against her hand, causing her to drop the launcher. With a kick to the waist, he sent her tumbling a few feet away

She quickly recovered. “You will regret that. When I kill you, it will not be merciful.”

“Leave my family alone,” Nosedive warned. Every movement he made was rigid, guarded, as he diverted his vision for only a second to attain her fallen launcher. By the time he eyed her position again, she was gone.

He rose to his feet…and halted. Something was thrust against his back. Something pointy, something sharp. Her knife.

A whispered command blew air into his ear, unnerving him. “I will be back, Flashblade. If you want those you love to stay alive, give me what I want.”

The pain in his back disappeared, and when he whirled, he wasn’t surprised that she was gone.

His thoughts ricocheted to his older brothers, and he stuffed the launcher into the back of his jeans. He looked in the mirror. His eyes ascertained the line of blood trickling from his forehead, then whirled to make sure the launcher was not noticeable under his jacket. That was all he needed—Wildwing to freak out at the sight the launcher. Of course, the blood probably would be a catalyst, too.

Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, he left the bathroom and quickly crossed the crowded restaurant.

“Hey, kiddo, we ordered you—” Wildwing started, but was cut off at the sight of Nosedive’s raucous expression. “What is it? What happened?”

“We need to go,” Nosedive said curtly, leaning over the table. He couldn’t explain there. They were out in the open, vulnerable targets. The many mob movies from Earth did not save Nosedive well. He could just imagine the wayward shot hitting one of his brothers in the back of head.

Wildwing examined Nosedive’s stern face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” He turned to his brothers. “Let’s go, guys.”

“Care to say what this is about, kid?” Canard asked as he stood at the street corner, waiting for the cars pass by to cross to the parking lot.

Nosedive, on end, peered about for a different reason. His eyes scanned every female, but there was no way to tell which one was the killer. He only the basic information: height, weight, body type. “Hold it for just a—”

As the light signaled for them to cross—screeching tires, racing engine—Nosedive swung toward noise, seeing a zooming black car heading straight toward them. Before he could even breath, he was caught off-guard by Wildwing’s force slamming into him and the hand that encircled his waist as they tumbled safely out of the way of the oncoming car.

Laying on the side of the road, Nosedive watched as the car zipped past, narrowly missing Canard and Shane as they dove out of the way.

Wildwing shifted above him, grunting in pain. “How about now?” He wiggled again, this time to get off Nosedive. He stiffened, as his stomach brushed across Nosedive’s back. “Care to tell me where you got the launcher?”

*^*^*

“So, let me get this straight,” Shane advised as he steered about the bend and stepped on the gas. “The killer’s a duck, not a drake, and she’s after us, not you?”

Nosedive crossed his arms and repositioned himself in the backseat. “Yeah, pretty much. And she knew the necklace was the initiation. She went after it.”

Next to him, Canard heaved a giant sigh. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t have it.”

“Especially since she made it pretty clear that once she has it, she’s going to kill me.”

“No,” Wildwing objected in the front seat, “she’s not.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Where are we going?” Shane asked, turning again. “I’m just trying in circles. You want to go home? The only reason she attacked was because we left the kid alone. If we watch him like a hawk, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“She’s following us, though,” Wildwing informed.

Canard and Nosedive both swiveled, while Shane looked in his rearview mirror.

Nosedive’s head jumbled up and down. “Where? I don’t see her.”

“Not directly behind us,” his older brother reproved, “but now that she knows Nosedive isn’t wearing the necklace, she’ll think we’ll go for it. She’ll be around.” He repeated, his point eerily clear, “She’s around.”

“So where should we—” Nosedive was cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He quickly freed it from his pocket and peered at the number—or lack of it. Smooth feathers formed deep ridges of concentrations on his forehead.

“Who is it?” Canard inquired, to which he received a finger to indicate one minute.

Nosedive flicked open his phone and put it to his ear. “Hello?” he asked tentatively, the car completely silent. Fear gripped the passengers.

“Kid?”

Nosedive sighed in relief. “Stars, Uncle Duke. What the hell?”

A communal release of tension sounded in a collective exhale.

“Geez, kid, what’s your problem?” Duke’s slightly perturbed voice relayed.

“Sorry, but we’ve just had a close call. What’s up?” Nosedive questioned, sitting back in his seat.

There was obvious hesitation in his voice, and Nosedive found that to be a pattern of late with the people around him. “Where are you guys?”

“Uh, in the middle of the Metro.” With the killer possibly listening, it was better not to give a direct pin-point of where to find him.

“Don’t come home. You can’t.”

“Why?”

“There are cops all over your house. I think it has to do with the injunction Icebeak filed. They’re coming to take you back to the academy.”

“STOP THE CAR!” Nosedive shouted madly, and Shane hastily stepped on the break, careening the car to a screeching halt by the side of the road. Leaning forward because of the momentum, the teen was suddenly thrust back in his seat the stop.

“What? What is it!” Shane mumbled, startled.

“Is there something someone wants to tell me?” Nosedive scowled, glaring unkindly at his brother.

Shane and Wildwing looked at each other, while Canard just shook his head.

“Cops at the house?” Wildwing guessed.

“Uncle Duke just said that Icebeak filed an injunction,” Nosedive explained tersely. “Would you care to elaborate?”

Wildwing closed his eyes and collected his thoughts. “I don’t have custody, yet,” he said wistfully. “Until I get custody, the Legion still has it, and in association, Icebeak is still your guardian. He wants you to remain in the academy.”

Nosedive sat back in his seat, hitting off his cell phone and not bothering to say good-bye to Duke. He flipped it onto the floor and just sat in reserved silence.

“Dive?” Wildwing said tentatively.

Nosedive just shook his head, then abruptly slammed his fist against the window—no—through the window. A shattering clamor sounded, and pieces of glass clattered as he pulled his fist from the wreckage. Thankfully, there was no blood. No pain…nothing.

“I will not go back,” Nosedive told his brother firmly. “I won’t.”

“You really don’t have much a choice, kid,” Canard declared.

“I don’t care. I’ll run away first, or…or…I’ll do something, but I won’t go back,” he rambled in disorientation and leaded his golden locks back on the headrest.

Wildwing nodded sternly. “Okay, then. Maybe Icebeak can be talked to. Maybe we can get him to rescind his injunction.”

“I talked to him, little bro,” Shane felt inclined to point out. He shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“We have to try.” Wildwing glanced back at his little brother, who flexed his hand. A small, hopeful smile grew on his beak at his older brother’s resolve. “Right now, though, we need to leave Nosedive somewhere. I don’t think taking him with us is a good idea.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Canard offered.

“But where?”

Nosedive averted his eyes and looked at the shards of broken class glistening with fresh rain. “I know a place.”

*^*^*

Nosedive stood rigidly at the entranceway to the kitchen. It was there six months ago he came home. It was there six months ago he found his father. It was there six months ago his father died, and his world was turned upside-down.

He stared at the sight where his father had lay, the blood now gone on the floor, yet just as fresh in his mind. The sickening smell still infiltrated his nostrils, as the memories came crashing down again.

His father’s voice pleading with him, the shots ringing out, his tears blurring his vision as he was pulled away from his father’s body.

Since then, things hadn’t been right, and except by the grace of his brothers, they wouldn’t ever be again.

A comforting hand fell upon his shoulder, offering support. He looked up, seeing the tan mallard who had been there for him on Earth and now on Puckworld. He quickly looked back on the floor where his father was and wanted nothing more to flee. It was ironic, the contradiction of emotions. Part of him felt at home in the house; it had been his place for almost a decade. At the same time, the knowledge of what occurred weighed down upon him, and the person that made the house a home was gone. All that was left was cold tiles, moldy rooms, and buried emotions.

“It will be okay, kiddo,” Canard said. “Wildwing and Shane will fix it.”

“Or crash and burn, and in that case, it’s been good to see you, Canard.”

Canard suppressed a snort and grabbed Nosedive’s arm, tugging him gently. “Come on. Why don’t we go watch the E.W.R?”

“It’s been disconnected,” the boy discouraged, his eyes linked to the tiles.

The blood… it was still there. Stars, but he couldn’t see the clean floor.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and a shot cut through his mind.

Something wet splashed onto Nosedive’s jacket.

The hand on his arm slackened.

A strangled grunt sounded.

And Nosedive realized the shot wasn’t in his head.

*^*^*

“We’re here,” Shane proclaimed dismally, slowing the car as it approached the security booth at the academy. Wildwing quickly flashed his credentials, and they were allowed passage onto the grounds.

The towering points of the buildings seemed more intimating to Wildwing, more so than when he first came to an academy as a freshman. As a professor, it had been comforting, a helping component in the swift transformation of his life from Puckworld to Earth and back. Now, it seemed cold and distant, much like a bleak memory he just wanted to forget. While he had embraced the place, his brother had not and was being coerced to return. That simple fact made his blood run cold.

He wandered about the hallways, letting his mind guide him. He knew approximately where Icebeak’s quarters would be, as per Nosedive’s directions. He hoped the man was home. Unlike many of the professors of the institution, Icebeak was a psychiatrist for the cadets; therefore, he was required to be on campus. Luckily, as

Wildwing and Shane surveyed the names on the doors, he struck gold, finding the drake’s name and the sound of a E.W.R inside.

“Are you sure about this?” Shane asked pointedly. “If he calls the cops—”

“Icebeak’s threatened my brother, Shane. He should be the one unsure,” Wildwing confirmed and knocked.

They hadn’t long to wait. The door opened momentarily, and a man dressed in a flannel robe, fiddling with his glasses, answered their knock. He cast a confused glance toward Wildwing until his eyes narrowed toward Shane.

“Bronzeplume,” he addressed Shane bitterly.

Wildwing interjected, “Captain Icebeak, I’m Wildwing Bronzeplume, Nosedive’s older brother. May we have a minute of your time?”

“Depends. I have not been informed of your brother’s return to the academy. Are you resisting the authorities?” The captain puffed up.

“Authorities, sir?” Wildwing asked, his voice feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean. Did you contact the authorities?”

Captain Icebeak narrowed his eyes, and Wildwing could tell the man didn’t miss his sarcasm. “Whatever you have to discuss with me may wait until after I am informed your brother is once more in the barracks and the academy’s lawyer is present. Good night, gentlemen.”

As he moved to shut the door, Wildwing grabbed the edge, keeping it open. “Sir, I’m only asking for a minute of your time.” His voice hardened from strain as the captain continued to keep pressure on the door. “If you truly have my brother’s best interest in mind, then you’d discuss this rather than just ordering him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.”

“I don’t see the point,” Icebeak scowled and let go of the door, “but come in.” Wildwing stepped inside, followed by Shane. They were led down a small, forest green hallway, which was decorated with various pictures of what could only be family and friends. From what Wildwing could see of the apartment, fluffy furniture, an older E.W.R. from the time when they were still boxes, not just a screen, and few bookcases filled with books and miscellaneous knickknacks, it certainly seemed inviting.

Wildwing followed Icebeak into an office. It was rather small, but then again, the apartment seemed to be built for a smurf. It had the bare essentials, a desk in the far left hand corner, a bed for the man’s patients, and a chair next to the bed.

“Take a seat,” the man directed Wildwing and Shane to the couch.

The two younger ducks obeyed, while Icebeak took a seat in the chair.

“I suspected you would come,” he broached, crossing his left leg over his right.

“Well, sir. I was hoping you could withdraw your injunction,” Wildwing replied respectfully.

Icebeak nodded thoughtfully, then combated, “Captain Bronzeplume—”

“Wildwing, please.”

“Wildwing, do you know why I filed the injunction?”

With a furled eyebrow, Wildwing shrugged and conjectured, “Because you want my brother to attend the academy?”

“That is true,” Icebeak verified; “however, it goes beyond that. I think your brother is a danger to himself and those around him. He is very unstable. He has been through a lot in his young life, and he hardly displays his emotions. He doesn’t wish to speak of them and would rather wallow in his despair.”

“Just because—”

“Above that,” the captain continued with a slightly elevated voice over Wildwing’s outburst, “your brother was left a hefty sum of money left to him, which could be used fruitfully without his consent.”

“Wait a minute—” Shane interrupted, but was quickly cut off by Captain Icebeak.

“And might I mention I am the boy’s guardian. I was not told you were coming. When your brother did not attend another session of ours, I just assumed Cadet Flashblade attempted to miss another one. Then I found out that you took him. In matters of law, that is kidnapping, Wildwing. I could even dismiss that aspect if it wasn’t for the fact of your relativity. Am I expect that you are ready to accept responsibility for a nineteen year old after you’ve known your brother only for three years?”

Wildwing studied the man considerately. “Captain Icebeak,” he began with nonchalance, “where the hell are you coming from?”

The captain blinked, taken back. “Excuse me?”

“Captain, my brother has been through a lot in his life, and I admit, I was only reunited with him a short time ago after we were separated when he was one,” Wildwing explained, “but we share a bond that sometimes I can’t even explain. Did Nosedive tell you I’m the first person he remembers? Did he tell you that we were split into two different foster homes, and when his parents were killed in front of him, he thought of me?”

“No,” the captain replied coldly, “he did not.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a chance to see my brother’s files. You’ve seen the gap in Nosedive’s records, right?”

The general pondered for a moment. “Between the ages of four and nine. Yes.”

“He was in two different gangs, one in which was beaten, another where he had to swallow drugs for those he lived with.”

The captain closed his eyes in sympathy.

“When he went through those horrible places, he thought of me. He thought I might save him because he remembered me telling him that I would find him and everything would be okay.” Wildwing shook his head dismally. “I never did. I looked for him, but I wasn’t able to find him. It wasn’t until after the invasion that I finally was able to find him and save him from death.

“We’ve been through a lot, sir,” Wildwing mused as he looked away, his face scrunched his bitter recollection, “and I admit not all of it is fond. But now that I have my brother back, sir, I will not give him up without a fight, especially to a psychiatrist who thinks he knows what’s best for my brother when he doesn’t even know Nosedive.”

“Sir, if I may,” Shane interposed, “just because Nosedive doesn’t talk to you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I suppose you are going to tell me he bleeds his heart to you, Shane,” the captain sneered.

“Captain Bronzeplume, please,” Shane corrected tersely. “No, he doesn’t speak to me. He talks to Wildwing.”

Icebeak redirected his gaze pensively. “So, tell me then, Wildwing. What is going through your brother’s head?”

Wildwing raised his head, bitterness and defiance transcending his eyes. “I’m sorry, Captain, but that is personal. What I can tell you is that is he is frustrated. The person who finally did save him from the trenches of his abusive childhood was murdered, and the people who were supposed to be his father’s friends didn’t respect his son’s wishes. He’s angry at me, I’m sure, for not being here. He’s scared he’ll lose my brothers and me, and he vehemently does not want to return to the academy. Please, sir, don’t force him from the only family he has left and first place he has felt safe in six months.”

*^*^*

Nosedive whirled as Canard crumbled to the ground, reaching out to him. He gripped the collapsing mallard’s hand, only to be tugged down to the floor by Canard’s disproportional weight.

Clutching his stomach just above his jeans, Canard hissed. Blood smeared the hard wooden floor, seeping from a puck wound in the left side of his waist and through his shivering fingers. His face, twisted in a horrible, wincing cringe, conveyed his pain as he writhed.

Shaking his head, Nosedive felt his heart stop. No...oh, Stars, no…not again…

“Kid…” Canard murmured, heaving deep, gasping breathes. He pulled the startled boy close to him with little effort. “Run…”

Blinking at the flash, Nosedive disobeyed the older mallard, immediately pulling off his coat and placing it onto the wound. He pressed hard. “Stay still,” he commanded. “Don’t move or you’ll make it worse.”

Canard relaxed a little, leaning back on his elbow. He winced again, then gulped.

*FLASH!*

Nosedive pushed him flat against the ground gently. “Lay down. It’ll be okay,” he lied deliberately. He knew nothing was okay.

Canard’s eyes went wide. “Kid…”

Nosedive bowed his head as the bunt of a launcher was pressed against the back of his skull. A rigid hand knotted his hair and thrust up, snapping back his head.

“Hey, Dive. Good to see you again.”

He was surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. A girl, interested in his necklace, deadly— Turdus, his father’s dying words had been. Why didn’t he see it before? Turdus migratorious—“Well, Robyn, I can’t say the same thing.” His voice was devoid of feeling, low and murmuring. He kept his eyes directed on Canard, despite the women crouching behind him.

The hand from his hair fled and once again probed his neck, then ducked under his shirt again. He couldn’t hold in the whine that escaped his beak when her gloved hair ruffled his chest feathers. Canard’s hand squeezed his weakly, and Nosedive squeezed back firmly. Even dying, Canard took the energy to comfort him.

“Tell me where it is, Dive,” Robyn’s coy voice proclaimed, “and I might not kill you.”

“I don’t have it,” which was actually the truth.

“Where is it? Does your brother have it?”

Nosedive snorted. “You shot his twin brother. You really think he’s going to give it to you?”

“He doesn’t have to. I’ll kill as many people as it takes to get it.” She thrust the launcher into his head, causing him to grimace. A thwack sounded next to him, and he didn’t need to look to know there were pictures—pictures of he and Canard and probably he at the restaurant. Not to harrow him, but his brother when Wildwing finally returned. A macabre message.

“Why?” Nosedive prompted harshly. “Tell me that at least.”

She chortled. “So you can stop me? Don’t think so, kiddo.”

“Traitor?” Nosedive surmised. “You said it would be population suicide. You get the shield on-line, trap us all here, and then get the Saurians out of—”

*SMACK!*

He collapsed to the floor, pain shooting through his head. Taking a deep breath, he gave his head a quick, hard shake. Still pain filled; still double vision—two Canards. It would have been funny to see the concerned expression on his face twice, if he wasn’t been smacked around by the same psychotic maniac who killed his father. If it was just any psychotic maniac, then just maybe, it would have been funny.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re still going to die. You might as well prolong it.” Her boots appeared in front of Nosedive, and he slowly lifted his head. The cherry red mallard wore the same feather-tight, black suit she had on at the restaurant, though her mask was missing. Her curly red hair fell just to her shoulders, and she took sadistic pleasure in pointing her puck launcher at him. “You have your cell phone. Call your brother. Tell him to come here.”

That was just absurd. “Don’t think so, chick-y. Do it yourself. It’s in my jacket pocket.”

She sighed with annoyed reluctance. “Okay.” She simply walked over to Canard, who had positioned himself sitting up against the wall. Placing her high-heeled shoe on the tan mallard’s wound, she pressed down.

He grimaced, and while his beak was open, no words came out. A silent scream of pain decrepitated to a horrid whine that was superseded by the blood bubbling from his wound and trickling from under her boot.

“OKAY!” Nosedive conceded, ripping out his cell phone. “Stop…okay? Just stop.”

Robyn, smirking, elevated her stomp, but kept her foot on Canard as a reminder.

“Don’t…” Canard gasped to Nosedive in an abysmal order, his chest heaving and collapsing laboriously. “Kid…”

Nosedive sent him a sad, rueful smile. “Sorry, bro. Don’t have a choice here.”

He hit the speed dial-one and waited apprehensively for the rings.

*^*^*

“I’m sorry, Wildwing, but I do not feel it is in Nosedive’s best interest to leave the academy,” Captain Icebeak declared prosaically. “He needs to be somewhere where he can be monitored and helped to understand the feelings raging through him.”

“How much more is there to understand? He’s angry because some psychopath killed his father!” Wildwing suddenly blurted. “People abused him, made him swallow drugs! A sadistic lizard tortured him to get at his parents and me, and you think he needs to understand that? He doesn’t need to understand that, Captain,” he spat the title disgustedly, “and he’s come to terms with it! He knows now that he isn’t a slave, that he doesn’t have to work for a century-dead scales bastard! And he knows that if he did feel that way, he could tell someone about it!”

Wildwing huffed, sucking in deep breathes to curb his own raging emotions. Staring unforgiving at Icebeak, he said slowly, bitterly, “Whether you wish to deem it so or not, my brother is not alone in this world, Icebeak. You don’t have to be the one to look out for his best interest. He has people to do that for you. People who care about him, who want to help him. He has me, and he tells me what’s going on in that head of his. He has Shane and Canard, and beyond them, he has the team. We might not live together anymore, and we might not have the same goal in mind, but damnit, we’ll always be there for each other.

“Captain Icebeak, my brother is not a fledgling. He’s my responsibility, and as such, he will never be one again. He will never be alone again, and not you or anyone else in this institution can make him be.” He vowed as a sacred oath, “I won’t you.”
An intense silence engulfed the group, as Wildwing allowed his words to sink into Captain Icebeak.

“Sir,” Shane addressed formally. Icebeak’s eyes snapped toward him, wide and engrossed. “I have known a lot of men who would fit the person you described: money-grubbing, self-indulged, ignoring their responsibilities. But if there is anyone who is fit to be Nosedive’s guardian, it’s Wildwing. Wing and Dive share a love and affection that not many siblings share. Nosedive is more to Wildwing than a little brother. He’s his best friend. His charge. He searched for the kid for fifteen years, and he’ll fight to the death to keep Dive now that he has him at his side. Hell, Wildwing was able to keep that boy alive on Earth, in the midst of a war. He cares more for Nosedive than anything. If you take Nosedive away, you’ll not just be destroying that boy’s life, but my brother’s as well. Are you willing to be responsible for that?”

Icebeak thought for a moment. “Tell me, Captain Bronzeplume, how do I know you’re on the level?”

As Shane opened his beak, a ringing sounded from Wildwing’s jacket—a popular rock song by Nosedive’s favorite group, the Screaming Beaks. Wildwing remembered fondly that was one of the first things Nosedive did once he was settled in. He changed Wildwing’s ring tone from “Beaks to the Death” to “Life’s for the Taking.”

Wildwing glanced at the screen, which bemusedly read “Darling Younger Brother”—another programming at Nosedive’s hands.

Wildwing flipped opened his phone. “Little bro? What’s wrong?”

*^*^*

Nosedive pushed himself to feet, warily eyeing Robyn’s puck launcher aimed at him, her foot poised on Canard’s stomach. “Hey, Wing. We have a, uh, un problemo aqui. Nothing too harsh. Just life-threatening.” He started to pace, taking a deep breath as he did so.

*^*^*

Wildwing held his breath, fearing the worse. He brushed his bangs back from his forehead. “Spill. Now.”

*^*^*

Nosedive stopped suddenly, then turned his back to Robyn. He practically felt the launcher pointed at him. “See this former coll—”

He abruptly jerked, stiffening as a puck careened pass his head, barely missing his head and actually brushing past his hair.

“Remember the movie Man of the House?” he amended swiftly, his voice faltering.

*^*^*

Wildwing stood and began to pace. “The killer’s there, isn’t he?” A queasy, sinking feeling ravaged his gut.

Through his receiver, his nervous brother’s voice sounded, “Uh, do you remember how Tommy Lee Jones’s daughter and how stupid she was?”

“Yeah. She let the enemy in,” Wildwing replied tightly. Oh, Stars, no. Dive, please don’t have...

*^*^*

Nosedive glimpsed back at Robyn sideways, then responded, “I’m not that stupid, but similar idea.”

*^*^*

“What is it?” Shane said in earnest as he appeared by Wildwing’s side.

The younger Bronzeplume put up a finger, then considered vocally, “The killer knew your father. Was he a friend of your father’s?”

*^*^*

“Bingo.” Using Earth terms was always a good idea. It was as good as speaking in code. He eyed the launcher pointed at him, then glanced down at Canard with trembling eyes. The tan duck was sickly blanched, black rings under his drooping eyes, while his tan complexion was closer to his twin brother’s.

“Wing, she wants the necklace. She’s already shot Canard, and he doesn’t look too good.” He couldn’t stop his voice from wavering. “He’s bleeding pretty bad, big bro. I—I don’t think he’s going to last too long, and that’s if she doesn’t decide to just kill him.”

Canard heaved in a arduous breath, attempting to speak, but he was too weak. He settled to mouth, “I’m fine…”

He was anything but.

*^*^*

Even though his heart raced and his stomach bottomed out at hearing his twin brother’s condition, Wildwing knew he had to remain calm and thinking logically—even though everything else in his being screamed the opposite.

And still he got the inclining repetition. “ ‘She’?” he echoed. “The killer’s a she?”

“Yeah, but like Eddie Zane who likes to hang at the mall, you know?”

“Mall…mall…” Wildwing blinked, mind reeling. The conversation Wildwing had with his brother following General McMallard’s visit ran through his mind. “Stars, your dad’s friend. Robyn, right?”

*^*^*

A fraction of a smile tugged onto Nosedive’s beak. “Thank you for playing Final Jeopardy.”

Robyn scowled, lifting her boot from Canard’s stomach and treaded across the floor. Nosedive squirmed from his position, but didn’t dare move for fear of Canard. Robyn grabbed Nosedive’s neck and pressed the bunt of her launcher in his head.

“What did you tell him?” She demanded lowly, yet sternly.

“Nothing! Just to get home,” he shrilled.

She kicked him in the stomach, sending him into the wall. He hissed as pain rushed through his back. A hard hand clutched the front of his shirt, keeping him from sliding down the wall to the ground.

“He figured it out, didn’t he? You gave him clues!” Robyn accused.

“I’m not Sherlock Holmes!”

Snatching the phone, Robyn placed it to her ear, as her launcher was thrust directly into Nosedive’s chest. “Hello, Wildwing. It seems we finally meet. Your brother has told me precious little about you, but you seem to know me.”

*^*^*

Wildwing braced himself, swallowing hard. He could be his brother’s lifeline. Looking at Shane, he motioned to his big brother’s pocket. Shane looked at him bewildered, then stuck his hand in his pocket. Retrieving his keys, he nodded in corroboration and headed out to the door.

Wildwing ignored the captain as he left as well and resumed his entire attention on the phone line. “Hello, Robyn. I wish I could say this is a pleasure, but it’s not when you hold both of my brothers’ lives in your hands.” He began to walk out of the room and retreat to Shane’s car.

*^*^*

Nosedive eyed the launcher as it slowly was lifted from his chest. He briefly thought about unhitching her, but the longer Robyn was on the phone, the longer she wasn’t interested in him or Canard.

“Tell me, Wildwing. How much does your little brother’s life meant to you?”

Noticing his discontent, she brushed back his limp bangs with the launcher. Nosedive cringed slightly as she wiped it down the side of his cheek. Its barrel connected continuously with his feathers, so that she would be able to shoot him before he could think, let out alone flinch. She knew it, and more importantly, he knew it.

*^*^*

Wildwing didn’t object as Captain Icebeak appeared at the door, fully dressed in his uniform, puck launcher at his side. As much as Wildwing knew his little brother wouldn’t like the older man there, they could use all the help they could get.

“My brother’s life is priceless, Robyn. Killing him won’t get you what you want.”

*^*^*

Robyn smirked demonically at Nosedive, malevolent intent glimmering in her eyes. “You’re right, Wildwing. I guess it won’t. I suspect you’ll be home shortly.”

*^*^*

Wildwing dashed down the hallway, huffing as he ran, “Yes.”

He slowed to a brisk walk as he pushed open the door to the outside, holding it briefly for Icebeak. He quickly got into Shane’s car, and before he even shut the door, Shane hit the gas pedal. The car’s tires screeched in the silent parking lot.

“Have you called the police?” Robyn inquired.

Wildwing, holding Shane’s phone in his hand, lied as he dialed, “No. I haven’t, and I won’t.”

“Perhaps I should give you an incentive.”

“That’s unnecessary—”

Nosedive’s piercing scream cut him off.

*^*^*

Shivering on the floor, Nosedive tentatively touched his forehead, afraid of what he’d find. A warm, wet substance smeared his hands, and opening his eyes, he quickly shut them as he was blinded by blood.

“Get up,” an insistent harsh voice commanded.

He shook his head “no.” He knew what lay ahead if he stood, and instead, he just wiped the substance from his forehead.

A rough hand seized his shirt from behind and thrust him upward. “GET UP!”

Staggering to his feet, Nosedive felt the heel of a shoe shoved into his back. The force propelled him forward, and he fell face first into the living room coffee table, breaking it from the force of his collapsing weight.

Laying amongst the broken wood, Nosedive winced and turned over. He tipped his head back against the ground as the living room whirled about him. He squeezed shut his eyes, but they snapped open again at the sound of clicking boots on the hardwood floor.

Squinting, his double vision collided into one, and he instantly pushed himself onto the haunches. Crab-walking backward to distance himself as much as possible from the villainous female fatal, he felt his heart beat, thundering in his chest.

*^*^*

Wildwing slammed his fist onto the dashboard. “Can you go any faster!”

“I’m going as fast as I can!” Shane shouted in a horrified retort, weaving the car dangerously in and out of traffic. “We’re no good to anyone dead, Wildwing!” He laid on the horn. “Move it!”

*^*^*

Nosedive halted when his back slammed into the fireplace. He eyed Robyn gingerly as she stalked into the room, phone to his right ear, launcher down against her left thigh.

“Allow me to keep you on for the moment, Wildwing, while I take care of a certain hatchling.” She placed the phone on the couch and strode toward the cringing Nosedive.

Wildwing’s aggravated voice percolated the silent room, “Robyn, don’t you dare touch him!”

She stopped a few feet from Nosedive, raising her puck launcher toward him. She uttered only two words, though they were booming so Wildwing could hear. “Get up.”

Peering past her shadowy form, Nosedive caught sight of Canard, hand pressed against the side of his stomach, blood seeping past it. His head bobbled as if on the verge of consciousness. At least he was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long.

Taking a deep breath, Nosedive wobbled to his feet, pressing his back hard against the wall for stability. Robyn raised her launcher to strike him down again, only he caught her wrist, then delivered a swift kick to her mid-region, lifting her into the air. She flew backwards, crashing into a recliner and tumbling to the floor. Nosedive immediately spotted her launcher as it spun across the hardwood floor. Pitching for it, he swiped it up in his hands and turned on his knees to shoot.

Nothing.

He slowly rose to his feet, launcher out in front of him, elbows taut. Cocking his head to the side, he noticed a lifeless hand behind the fallen recliner. Moving closer, he saw Robyn’s unmoving body sprawled across the floor, though one leg was still entangled in the chair.

He stayed silent, launcher pointed toward her. He watched through guarded eyes for her to move, but he only observed the slow but constant rise and fall of her chest. Heaving a sigh of relief, he retreated into the hallway. As he dropped to his knees at Canard’s side, Nosedive’s eyes pored over the pale and shallowly breathing older mallard. His gut wrenching with a mixture of guilt and fear, he lay the launcher on the ground and touched Canard’s hand covering his wound. Canard instantly shunned away and dulled, bloodshot eyes opened tiredly, then softened at the sight of him.

“It’s okay, Canard,” Nosedive cajoled as he lifted the hand and fought the cringe that threatened to scrunch on his face. Stars, there was so much blood…like that night…

The grisly sight of his father dead, bleeding, flashed through his mind…He couldn’t think about that; he had to save Canard, like he couldn’t his….He pushed the thought aside and quickly shed his shirt. Applying pressure to the wound, Nosedive missed the sound of shifting behind him until it was too late.

He whirled just in time to see the knotted fist coming toward him, too fast for him to duck. Falling backwards, dazed, he blinked frantically to rid himself of the lightheaded feeling and blurred vision. He shook his head and rolled over on his side to see Robyn aim to attack again, only for her to struggle with her left. She looked down intolerantly at the panting Canard, who held her leg fruitlessly. It was a stupid move, for which he received a crushing blow to the side of his head, but it served its purpose: distraction. When Robyn turned back, Nosedive was already on his feet, steady albeit the blood dripping from a wound at his hairline. In his hand was her puck launcher.

“Move, and I’ll shoot,” he declared coolly.

She snuffed with a noncommittal shrug, “Do it.”

“You killed my father,” Nosedive spat guttery. “Don’t tempt me if you value your life.”

She smirked, turning slightly to the side, and threw a decisive kick toward the launcher. He maneuvered out of the way, firing once. The puck flew through the air, scraping against her side. The force was enough to knock her back two steps, but she retaliated a second later, knocking the launcher from Nosedive’s hands with a swipe of a knife. The teen growled at the pain, clutching his hurt hand, then ducked as she attacked with a left cut. Falling to the floor, he swept his foot, hitting her in the shins and causing her to fall to the ground.

He dove for the knife as it clattered to the floor, only for a hard momentum to smack into his side. Rolling dismally into the kitchen, he grunted, but knew he couldn’t stay down. Grasping at a table chair, he maneuvered himself onto his feet. Still, his world swirled.

“HE-YAH!”

He whirled toward the warning, her boot catching his face and sending him crashing into the table. Laying still, moaning slightly, he wasn’t sure exactly sure what happened. He felt the hard floor underneath him, but he wasn’t actually sure how he got there. He groaned at the pain stabbing his head.

“I was going to merciful,” he heard softly, far away. “I was going to let you live originally, just like your father, but you couldn’t have it that way.”

A strong, rough hand grasped his left wrist, then his right.

“No…” He tried to move, but he was so tired…so pained…and everything just was so off…He wiggled slightly, but that was all he was physically capable of doing. He was at her mercy.

His right hand was seized, and he felt something, a rope of sorts, pinioning his wrists together. Against his will, his back was dragged across the floor and then smack against something hard—cabinets. His limp arms were jerked upward, painfully so, and he heard something fumble with metal—facets.

He tried to focus, but other than the shifting of something black in front of him, he couldn’t make anything out.

“I was going to let you live long enough to see your brother again, Nosedive,” she rambled on, but suddenly, he felt a cold sensation against his neck, something sharp. The coldness caressed up his neck, then touched his beak, tilting it upward. His vision suddenly split, only to come together at the sight of her onyx orbs. In them, he once saw a brightness, one of an older sister, but now, all he saw was the evil that vied with the level of his once lord.

She smirked. “Even I have my limits.”

Feverishly, he tugged on his bonds, but they gave no avail. A feeling of hopelessness surrounded him, and all she could do was chortle.

“Why, Robyn? For power? You’d betray your own for nothing more than greed?” he pierced, his anger surging to the point where he struck out, only to be slammed back to the cabinets by his bonds.

Dragging the knife down the side of his face just so he could feel the coldness, she spoke diabolically, “I wonder how much the new ruling house of Sauria will enjoy Lord Dragaunus’s slave as a pet. Perhaps you could be the new wave of Puckworlder slaves—”

He shunned away from the knife and uttered despairingly, “Don’t bring me down to your status, Rob.”

“Or maybe I should just put you out of your misery,” she seethed, narrowing her eyes and pressing the knife against the teen’s throat.

Nosedive squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard despite the breath bursting from his beak.

Stars…WING!...Dad…

He felt the blade break the skin.

Please…no…

The blade sunk farther into his neck, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A strangled shriek exploded from his beak, as tears trickled down his face.

A shot!

The sharpness of the knife disappeared. A hot, wet substance splashed across his face and his arms. He flinched at the feeling, turning his head to the side and pressing it against the cabinets. Something wet was there, too, coating his feathers.

A shifting in front of him, a strangled gag, the clatter of metal, then the absent of a presence.

“Nosedive?” A tentative voice called. His arms were suddenly freed, and a strong hold immersed him in a securing embrace, a hand cradling his back, another holding his head to something soft—a shirt.

Nosedive took comfort in the arms, knowing their feeling, their warmth, their owner. Wrapping his arms about his brother’s torso, he buried his wet face in his Wildwing’s shoulder. “S—S—She k—killed him,” he found himself divulging through spurted sobs. “She killed Dad!”

Wildwing soothed, “I know.” He leaned away a little and wiped the blood from his little brother’s face with his immaculate hand. “It’s okay, though. It’s all over now.”

Nosedive went rigid in his brother’s arms. “Canard! He was—”

“Shane’s taking care of him,” Wildwing said calmly, running a comforting hand through Nosedive’s hair. He once more embraced his trembling little brother. Nuzzling the teen’s cheek, Wildwing soothed, “It’s okay now. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here now. It’s okay.”

Sinking into his brother’s hug for solace, Nosedive didn’t have any aspirations to move. He was content to just feel his brother forever, secure in Wildwing’s arms.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was being watched and slowly opened his tired eyes. He caught a glimpse of an older mallard—Captain Icebeak. The duck wore a firm look upon his face. He stared attentively at Nosedive as the teen glared back at him.

Finally, Nosedive gave up the will to keep the gaze and instead, just retreated to his brother’s arms.

*^*^*

“So, anyway, Robyn’s recuperating from Wildwing’s shot, and when she’s healthy enough, she’ll stand trial,” Nosedive explained, sitting cross-legged upon the ground. He graced the stone in front of him with a smile. “I just thought you’d like to know, even though you probably already do. I guess I just wanted to talk, y’know? It’s probably selfish, but I just feel better being here and talking to you. I just hope you can hear me.”

Across from Nosedive was a rather large marble tombstone adorned with carved roses, while twinkling Stars surrounded the flowers. Before the stone were planted flowers, despite the snow upon the ground, while on top the top was a bouquet of freshly cut roses. Across the top of the stone read: “Flashblade,” while the left side of the side read, “Loving Husband, Devoted Father, Hero of Puckworld.” Even though Harper never married Nosedive’s to-be-stepmother, Nosedive felt it was best to put on “Husband.” After all, his father was buried next to Mira, whose name was carved into the right side, and they were very much in love.

And both loved Nosedive, as he knew well, very dearly.

Crestfallen, he once more addressed the stone, “Anyway, not much has changed really since the last time we spoke. I think I’m finally ready to clean up the house, though. Being there again and with Robyn going to stand trial,” he nodded distractedly and focused with unseeing eyes. “I think I’ve got a handle on things for the first time since you…left. The house isn’t the same anymore, y’know? Not without you there, and…I have a new home now. Wildwing’s finally got custody. Icebeak saw how I open up to him and how close we are, so he figured being with my family would be better than getting therapy and being at the academy.” He smirked artfully. “Don’t blow a gasket yet, Dad. I am going back to school. Wildwing’s working on enrolling me in my old place.

“And my band’s got gigs again, even though we’re two members short. I was thinking about strapping a bass guitar to Canard and seeing how he does, but…I dunno. We’re playing next weekend at the Wild Hatchling, so if you could watch, I would appreciate it. OH! And if you could send a recording company, that would so awesome. I know. I’m still not satisfied.”

“Dive?”

Nosedive sat up and tipped his head to the side. “I didn’t think you could talk back, Dad, but hey, if you can, I’m game.”

A fond chuckle sounded behind him, and Nosedive looked over his shoulder with a mock-anger. “I knew you were there, Wing.”

Wildwing weaved around the grave stones and came to stand by Nosedive’s sitting form. He crouched down. “Shane said when he got home, you weren’t there. I figured you went out, and this was the first place I thought of.”

Nosedive sent his brother a skeptical look.

“Okay. Fifth,” Wildwing relented, ruffling his little brother’s long hair again. “We have got to get you a new cell phone.” Redirecting his gaze toward the stone, he smiled a little sadly. “Talking to Harper?”

“He doesn’t talk back,” Nosedive said, slumping.

“Did you think he would?”

Nosedive shook his head. “Not really. I just wanted to tell him everything that’s happened.” He closed his eyes, ducking his beak. “I miss him, Wildwing. I miss him a lot.”

Wildwing wrapped a demonstrative arm about his brother. “And you always will, baby bro. You just have to take it one day at a time and know that you will see him again. Until then, he’s in a better place”

A solemn nod responded, followed by, “Until then? Are you saying Dad’s moving to Hell when I die?”

“What!” Wildwing object indignantly, flustering. “No! I just meant—”

Nosedive smirked and elbowed his brother playfully in the side. “I know what you meant.”

Shaking his head, Wildwing grabbed his little brother’s hand. “Come on. Why don’t we get out of here, huh?”

Nosedive smiled gently. “Uh, a few more minutes. Is that okay?”

Wildwing returned the grin. “Sure. I’ll be waiting by the jeep.”

Watching his older brother walk away, Nosedive said, “You know, Dad, you just could have told me that you left custody to Wing. I always thought I would be living in an orphanage again…Well, or with Mira, but I guess that’s a little moot now.” He graced the name next to his father’s with a tentative smile. “Sorry, Mira. No offense.”

He fixed his attention to his father’s side again. “Anyway, it’s been great talking to you, Dad. I hope things are well. If you see my biological mom and dad, could you thank them for my older brother? If I didn’t have him, I would be completely lost. At least this way, I’m just quasi-whacked.” He stood, looking back down at the tombstone. “I love you, Dad.” He kissed his hand, then put it his father’s name. “I’ll visit again soon. Take care until then.” He kissed the second name. “Love ya, too, Mira. Keep Dad sane for me, all right? With all the things I do, I don’t need him coming down on me the moment I get up there.”

Sparing them one last glance, Nosedive headed toward the road, knowing Wildwing would be there waiting for him.

*^*^*

“This is just too funny,” Wildwing declared with a shake of his head. He gazed at the small picture framed in his hands. “This can’t be you.”

Nosedive snatched the picture away, engulfing it in a paper towel for safekeeping and depositing it in a box. “You know, these are cherished memories,” Nosedive scolded as he took another picture from the mantle. “They aren’t for your enjoyment.”

“Anytime my little brother falls inside the tank of dolphins and there’s a picture of it, it’s hilarious!”

Shaking his head, Nosedive knew his brother would get a kick out of the pictures that garnished his house, but he didn’t think he would enjoy them this much. Topping the box and placing it next to the others, he scanned the living room. The couch was already covered with a cloth, while many of the pictures from the walls were taken down and boxed. The carpet was already pulled up, revealing the hardwood floors, and the windows were empty with the lack of curtains, letting the dying daystar’s light flitter into the room. The furniture was mostly gathered on the left side of the house, while to the right and spilling into the foyer were two stacks of boxes of knickknacks, clothes, and other belongings. One stack was things to keep; the other was of things to sell.

As Wildwing picked up another picture from the mantle, the doorbell rang. The two brothers exchanged confused looks. Who would know they were there other than Canard and Shane? Those two wouldn’t have rang. Shrugging, Wildwing placed back a picture and went to the door. Nosedive listened intently, absentmindedly placing his father’s books into a box. Ironically enough, he found himself labeling it “things to keep.”

“Headmaster Gaverson, Cadet Gaverson, uh, I didn’t expect you. Please come in,” Wildwing offered, stepping to the side. The headmaster and his son entered the foyer, trailed by Wildwing. The two darker-feathered mallards were uncharacteristically out of military uniform, the younger wearing a simple pair of cargo pants, a jacket and tee-shirt, while the older wore a sweater and slacks.

The headmaster peered inside the living room and nodded to Nosedive. “Flashblade.”

Nosedive waved hesitantly. “Uh, hi, sir.”

“Captain Bronzeplume, may I speak with you in private? I have a situation in which I seek your expertise.”

“Sure, Headmaster. Let’s speak in the kitchen,” Wildwing motioned toward the door in front of him. He turned briefly to Nosedive, leveling the teen with a look that could only be interpreted as, “Be good.”

Nosedive rolled his eyes defiantly and continued packing. He was all content to just ignore Sever in the foyer, when the guardians left, but of course, Sever couldn’t have that.

“I could have taken you two-out-of-three,” Sever commented, ambling into the living room.

Nosedive snorted. “Sure. You’d have tried.”

To Nosedive’s surprise, Sever shrugged. “You’re probably right. After all, I wasn’t the one in war.”

Nosedive couldn’t have heard that right. Sever always had a retort ready to pierce, but this time, the other teen…almost…commended him. He could almost hear the voice, “Look at the sign up ahead, you have just entered the Twilight Zone, Nosedive Flashblade.”

Sever let out a brief chuckle and walked about the couch. Picking up a picture on the mantle, he inquired, “Is this you?”

Leaning over, Nosedive graced him with an abashed smile. His cheeks reddened. The picture was the oldest one his father had, Nosedive about the age of seven. In it, the young hatchling wore baggy, black cargo pants that hung limply from his waist and bunched over his black boots. A black sweatshirt with an electric blue crest of a mask with drips of blood practically fell off of his top from its too big size. A black backwards hat covered his crown, but his blue cornrows were still noticeable, draping over his shoulder to the middle of his back.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me,” Nosedive replied sheepishly. ”My dad didn’t adopt me until I was nine, so he had no pictures of me prior to then. He felt bad about not being apart of life before then, so when my Uncle Duke came across this one, he gave it to my dad, and Dad still put it up.”

“You look…gang-ish,” Sever responded.

Nosedive snatched it from his hands. “Very observant, Cadet.” Wrapping the picture in paper towels, Nosedive placed it with the utmost care into the box.

“I’m sorry,” Sever said suddenly, lowly.

Okay, now he was sure he was in the Twilight Zone. “You say something, Rod?”

Sever sighed, shifting uncomfortably under the harsh glare. “I know that you didn’t want to attend the academy, and the only reason you did was because your father died. I…I gave you a hard time when I really shouldn’t have, and you were going through a hard time…so, I’m sorry, all right?” he snapped.

Nosedive stared at Sever with blunt cynicism. “You’re joking, right? Who put you up to this, your dad or Wildwing?”

“No one, all right?” Sever gritted and crossed his arms. “I…I realized I was wrong, and I should have cut you more slack. It’s just…You were the first person to ever really challenge me. I was always first in the class until you came.”

“I failed every test, quiz, and homework assignment I was given,” Nosedive recalled sardonically.

“Maybe, but you could have been first if you tried.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Nosedive exasperated.

Sever glared at him. “Because you were a Mighty Duck. You saved the planet.”

Nosedive scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I was kidnapped by Dragaunus and dragged to Earth.”

Silence.

“Your dad or Wing?” Nosedive repeated.

Sever laughed. “My dad…a little, but still, he was right. You didn’t want to go the academy, and you were in war and all.”

“Well, I know your father didn’t pull strings to get you in,” Nosedive said calmly, waving a hand and going back to packing. “I just said that to get back at you.”

There was a moment of silence, while Nosedive continued to place his father’s books in the box.

“Come back to the academy.”

A raised eyebrow was his answer. “Uh, no.”

“Come on, Flashblade. I want to be able to beat you fair and square,” Sever coaxed.

Nosedive shook his head. “Sorry, Gaverson, but I don’t want to go there. I just want to go to school, play hockey, and rock in my band.”

“You have a band?” Sever asked in amazement.

“Totally. We lost a few members during the invasion, but,” Nosedive shrugged, “we’re still pretty awesome.”

“What instrument do you play?”

Nosedive eyed his counterpart warily. “Currently the bass guitar, but that’s only because my friend Miguel died. I normally play acoustic or electric.”

Sever glanced at Nosedive sideways. “You know sus4?”

A growing smile etched itself onto Nosedive’s beak. “Asus4 was so first year. How about dominant 7 Arpeggio?”

Sever shrugged. “I’m pretty good with switching majors and minors.”

“You have a band?”

Curtly, Sever replied, “Between them.”

“Hold on!” Nosedive dashed toward the stairs. “Let me get my guitar.”

Wildwing and Headmaster Gaverson were struck dumb when they returned from the kitchen ten minutes later, Nosedive standing by Sever, the latter brushing his pick across the strings of a twelve-string.

“What…is going on here?” Wildwing questioned.

Nosedive’s face practically glowed. “Sever plays bass!”

“Yes, I am aware of that, Flashblade. I paid for lessons for three years for nothing,” Headmaster Gaverson spat uncouthly.

This time, Sever whirled to his father. “Nosedive has a band!”

“Man, I could hug you right now,” Nosedive said to Sever, taking a step back, “if it wasn’t weird.”

Wildwing and Headmaster Gaverson exchanged a bewildered expression. Mortal enemies to become friends? This was almost a Disney ending.

And from beyond the foyer, a chocolate-feathered mallard smiled, leaning against the doorway. It might not be a recording company, but still, it was something Nosedive needed.

The End