“Echoes”
Chapter One
The darkness of night swept across the wooded landscape, and as Nosedive emerged onto the plateau, the moon began to peek out from behind the silvery-edged clouds and light the forest before him. By the position of the celestial body, he knew he only had a few minutes to wait before his associate came and he could head back to the base.
Canard, unfortunately, had nothing better to do. “Hey,” the older duck’s voice called through Nosedive’s earpiece. “Is your ‘friend’ there yet, kid?”
“I’m twenty-five, Canard. Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Haven’t we already had this discussion before?”
“And apparently, we’re going to have it again.”
Canard snorted. “And we’ll probably have it again, too. You’re always be seven years younger than me, kid. That’s the one thing that will never change, so you might as well learn to deal with it.”
Nosedive sighed and shook his head; he knew Canard was right. Everything else had changed, so it actually felt good that this one thing wouldn’t. Even Nosedive’s own reflection—it showed the most age. The light in his blue eyes, which Canard had once said was his gift and contribution to the team, was betrayed by the worry lines that coursed his face. Siege shortened his hair during a torture session almost a year ago, and his body still felt the effects. A huge, jagged scar tore through his left bicep with others mirrored it upon his chest.
His battle gear, too, changed from when it resembled his older brother’s. A teal T-shirt cut at his shoulders, revealing his filled-out muscles, while a blaster holster encircled his waist. His jeans were a poor attempt at protection, though about his waist clung a golden belt—the one from Wildwing’s battlesuit. A purple Mighty Duck insignia adorned the left breast of his shirt and stained his right shoulder.
Maybe Canard was wrong after all. After everything that happened, Nosedive learned to hate change. Perhaps he would finally accept this one token of affection and the past and keep it tucked away for when he finally lost Canard.
Stars, losing Canard…He had lost everyone else. Could he weather this, too?
“So, kid—”
Nosedive actually heard the smirk on Canard’s face.
“—did your date stand you up?”
Ruffling—leaves, both in the trees and the crunching upon the ground under boots—Nosedive whirled with his blaster already out in front of him, safety off. The canopy of the trees hid the advancer well, and though Nosedive suspected the identity of the person, he still kept his guard up. Maybe Wildwing trusted Dreg with his life, but Nosedive still had reservations about Dragaunus’s son.
“Unforunately no,” Nosedive grunted with displeasure and cut the connection. “Dreg, I see you’re still alive. Pity.”
“Do I have to say it again?” Dreg seethed, his pristine fangs protruding his dark lips as he came forward, his hands held up in surrender. “That is unnecessary.”
“I don’t happen to think so.” Nosedive lowered it slowly before slipping it into its holster. “What gossip do you have for me today?”
Dreg stepped forward rather cautiously, yet still his purple cape flew behind him, and his red and silver armor glowed in the moonlight. He stood shorter than his father but only by a few inches, while his rather large snout huffed in irritation. His words were curt, but he still spoke regally. “Your brother and I at least feigned pleasantries. This is rather hostile, and I do not wish to betray my father and my race under these conditions.”
“My brother is dead—by your father’s whim, in case you’ve forgotten,” Nosedive snapped, his eyes never leaving Dreg. “I am not him.”
“Trust me. I am painfully aware of that.”
Nosedive heard the unspoken slap in the face and opened his beak to retort, but Dreg quickly waved a dismissive hand. With a growl, they abandoned the subject, as they did every meeting. “I have come to warn you and attempt to save your life, Flashblade. Gods help me.”
The Saurian prince spouted the words calmly, as if at a diplomatic function and not committing high treason. Nosedive cocked his head to the side before panic urged him to lift his blaster. Dreg, however, smirked and let out a small laugh.
“Do you really think that would stop me—or Varkais?”
“Varkais, the mercenary?” Nosedive echoed, his voice guttural. It quickly hardened, as did his entire body, but his blaster fell to his thigh. “So, he’s finally come back to Earth.”
Dreg nodded. “Yes, and he has come for you this time, Flashblade, to finally finish his mission—to destroy the Mighty Ducks once and for all.”
“But why now?” Nosedive asked, holstering his weapon and crossing his arms. “I’m no threat to your father, nor is my Resistance. I know our strength, and it’s pathetic.”
Dreg seemed to ingest the thought before nodding and sauntering to the edge of the cliff to glare upward as if the stars were the cause of his bale. “My father wishes to finally expand his empire off world and take the rest of the solar system. He wants any and all resistance squandered, so he only has to worry about his other conquests.”
Nosedive came to stand next to Dreg and snorted. “Worry?”
Dreg shared a small smile. “Fine, concern, but it does not change the severity of my message, Flashblade. You are living on barrowed time.”
“Of which you have just ran out.”
Nosedive whirled toward the rancorous voice, bringing his blaster to bear as the dark, crimson Saurian eased out of the trees to the left. A black jumpsuit covered his rippling muscular body and led to his crimson, calf-high boots and wrist cuffs, while crimson armor covered his chest. The emblem of Dragaunus’s royal family adorned his left breast, and his beady, amber eyes glowed with nothing short than the promise of a torturous death. He pointed a blaster at Nosedive’s head, as Nosedive pointed one firmly back.
“So, Flashblade, we meet once again. I cannot say I did not look forward to finally putting you out of your misery.”
“Big talker for a guy who’s failed at it more times than I can count.”
“Varkais, what is the meaning of this?” Dreg raised his chin elegantly as a royal and looked down about Varkais. “I was negotiating Flashblade’s surrender; you have no right to interfere.”
“Your Highness, be thankful your father wants to deal with you himself, or you would have been shot and dumped off the edge of the cliff by now.” Varkais sent Nosedive a rather malicious grin. “And you, Flashblade, should be grateful Dragaunus wishes to string you up in front of the whole planet, or you would have joined him.”
Nosedive narrowed his eyes, accepting the challenge full force, but before he even blinked, a blaster sounded behind him. Varkais had been the decoy for the forces encircling them, and like predicted, Nosedive’s anger guided his actions, so much so that it blinded out anything else.
Dark, Saurian magic swirled from Dreg’s mouth as he lunged at Nosedive and pushed him off the cliff. The drake let out a strangled scream as gravity tugged at his body, and the ground rushed to meet them. Nosedive’s stomach bottomed out, and he realized at that moment death was evident, if not by the impact of his fall, then by the laser shots burning from the cliff above. Blue flames swirled about Dreg’s scaly fingers, and when he chucked it at the rapidly falling Nosedive, Dreg’s body went limp as a laser finally hit its mark.
Despite Nosedive’s writhing, the blue flames touched the drake’s chest, and the fire engulfed his body.
“Canard! Kiss my—”
The sentence still sputtered upon the drake’s beak as he shot up in bed, gasping for any breath, chest heaving, long hair stuck to his slick cheeks. Violent trembles wracked his body, and he tried to suppress his need to scream as his stomach still recovered from the dreaded fall. He almost thought about running to expel his fear in the toilet, but at this time at night, the graveshift squad would be returning from their rounds, taking showers and cleaning up. How would it look if the commander of the American Resistance spilled his guts?
No, instead Nosedive gulped and pushed his bangs out of his eyes.
Wait…Hair? His frantic eyes caught sight of the strands of blonde swishing in front of his face, and he ventured a hand from his chest to grab a handful. Oh, Stars…His eyes quickly scoured to his surroundings, and whatever breath he’d reclaimed fled from his body.
His room—at the Pond.
No…that was impossible. Dragaunus destroyed the Pond. It was the first place he’d destroyed when he started his conquest of Earth. Then how—why—
Nosedive kicked off his blankets, then vaulted into the bathroom, throwing on the light.
And he shrieked.
Staring back at him was his seventeen—or sixteen-year-old self. His youth remained in his bright peach feathers and his long, shimmering gold hair. His eyes, however, seemed to see be dull, ice as if he still was old. Oh, Stars…
Nosedive tentatively reached out to the mirror, touching the places where scars once had torn his cheek and his worry lines had aged his face.
“Dreg…” he murmured to the Saurian as if he stood right next to him. “…what have you done?”
A bang upon his door startled the suddenly teen duck. “Hey, Dive? You up?”
No…it couldn’t be.
“Dive?” Another few bangs accented the sound of his comm. unit. He looked down at the device upon his wrist and frantically tried to separate it from his wrist. No, not again! He needed it off! As he scrubbed at it, the cajoling voice still plagued his conscious. “Come on. Practice is in fifteen minutes. You up yet?”
No…a part of him desperately wanted to open the door and lunge into his brother’s welcoming arms, but another part, a more poignant and burning thread of his heart, wanted nothing more than to flee. He dealt with Wildwing’s death, pretended to get over, locked the pain away where it couldn’t hurt him anymore, and vengeance filled the void. He didn’t want to deal with it now. He never wanted to deal with it, and if he saw Wildwing and would have to leave again—it would kill him.
The door opened a moment later, no matter how much Nosedive wanted them to stay closed, and the now-teen thanked the Stars sardonically for giving his brother his code.
“Nosedive?”
And then, the little brother set eyes upon Wildwing, his older sibling’s immaculate white feathers practically glowing in the darkness of the bedroom, and Nosedive immediately clenched his eyes shut. Strong, warm hands grabbed his shoulders, but all he wanted them off of him. He didn’t dare touch his brother’s feathers.
“Nosedive, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Nosedive had no choice but to open his eyes at the pleading tone and fought with the best he could to stop the tears from leaving his eyes.
“I—I’m fine, W—Wildwing. Just a night-terror.”
One that plagued him for more than five years and now stared him straight in the face.
“Oh. Do you want to talk about it?”
No. He never wanted to talk about it.
“Uh, nah.” He raked a hand through his sodden hair and pushed his brother slightly with a soft elbow to the gut. He fought to keep his mind in the present. “Maybe later. Right now, I just want to hit the puck past you.”
“You’ll try,” Wildwing chuckled, and before Nosedive could duck, the older brother’s warm hand touched his forehead, and his fingers dug into the blonde mop. With a brief tussle and a genuine, affectionate smile, Wildwing left with a faint reminder to be upstairs in a few minutes. As soon as the doors swished shut, the quivers once more ravaged Nosedive’s frame, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to lean over and wretch.
He wiped his beak with the back of his wrist and sunk completely to the floor. Stars, what happened? Did Dreg really send his mind into the past—or was everything really a night-terror?
He dismissed that thought with a snort. He remembered the last seven—eight?—years, remembered the battles, the unfathomable weight upon his rather weak shoulders, and his still queasy stomach rebelled from the unfortunate death dive. Those years had to be real. They just had to be.
…
Right?
*^*^*
The locker room unnerved Nosedive—not because it appeared like it had for the first five years of Nosedive’s life on Earth. Oh, no. It unhinged the twenty-five year old simply because it lacked the scorch marks of Saurian blasters, smeared blood from its victim’s torn and maimed body, and chunks taken out of the room.
Raking a hand through his hair, Nosedive closed his eyes to take a deep breath, and he only opened them again when he felt a presence before him. Duke stared back at him with that half-smirk he gave before his eyebrows touched. “You okay, kid? You look out of it—well, more out of it than usual, that is.”
Six A.M. practices always annoyed Nosedive to know end, especially since Wildwing knew he was not a morning person. Of course, that was the downfall of having his brother as the leader of the team. Just to spite him, Wildwing always made one practice a week ungodly early. It was just to tease him, but still, Nosedive used to the time to send his brother death glares.
Had. He had used to the time…
Stars… “I just have a headache; that’s all.”
Nosedive maneuvered about his teammate and moved to slap Duke on the shoulder, but just before his hand hit the older drake, he tore it away. No…touching was bad. Touching meant all this was real, that he was in the past and in a time when his brother and family lived, and he didn’t know if he could deal with that.
Duke sparred him a bewildered glance, which Nosedive ignored, before leaving the room. The younger duck changed quickly into his hockey gear, going mostly on autopilot though it’d been dangerously close to three years since he slipped on blades. He only paused when he saw the jersey hanging from his locker. It symbolized so much more than a hockey team; it symbolized the resistance on Earth, the last remaining people dedicated to stopping Dragaunus for what he had done to Puckworld, not to Earth.
It symbolized his family.
Stars…when did things get so bad? When had it all gone to pot?
He knew. Perhaps that was the problem. He knew, and at times, he still felt the gravel digging into his knees. It still felt the gentle breeze teasing his hair and trying to dry his persistent tears, though they only teamed at the braying laughter of the mercenary behind him.
It started with Varkais.
Now, with the Saurian back on Earth, Nosedive would finish it.
Only problem was—He was in the past.
Nosedive cursed Dreg and quickly donned his jersey. He felt oddly relaxed and strangely tense at the same time, but the feeling quickly passed as Nosedive stood before the rink. The coldness brushed against his feathers, and the smell of popcorn, beer, and the ice met his full force, circumventing the then-teen mallard. There was no escape, no denying anymore.
“Dive,” Wildwing called in a mock demand, “you gonna stand there all day and watch, or do you actually want to play?”
Nosedive Flashblade was home.
*^*^*
“So, you want to hit the arcade?”
Nosedive shrugged. He really didn’t feel like it. After he played Alien Manhunt in the middle of a frozen northwest attempting to outrun a highly skilled Saurian garrison, he really didn’t feel like playing it as a video arcade. It just lost something—oh, yeah. Its fantasy aspect.
He glanced to the side for a moment and watched as Mallory’s fire crown splashed across her face when she moved. Flinching, he quickly looked away. If for only a moment, her hair smeared blood across her cheek, and her frightened and macabre screams echoed in his head. And like always, he was helpless to stop the torture that took place to those he loved.
As the shot rang through his head, he jumped at the hand placed upon his shoulder. He reached for the blaster no longer occupying his jeans, but Mallory’s superior reflexes, even after all these years, caught his hand before it ever reached his back.
“Okay, what is wrong with you?”
Nosedive blinked at her. “Wadda ya mean?” He tried to put on his teenage slang speech, which, thankfully, he grew out of, but nothing slipped past Mallory. For some reason, she always knew what he was thinking, almost as much as Wildwing. He thought it occurred partially from her bonding with his brother, but then again, perhaps it came because she was Wildwing’s soul mate.
Shrugging off her hand, Nosedive replied, “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. You’ve been acting weird for the last few days.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Mallory crossed her arms. “Really? Then why didn’t you have cream cheese this morning?”
“What?” Nosedive laughed incredulously. That was what was weird about him? “Please. I just wasn’t hungry for it.”
As he turned to walk away, her strong hand grasped his bicep and physically whirled him back. “Try that will someone else. I think Wildwing once said there were only four foods you ever eat: pizza, cream cheese, cheese cake, and cheeseburgers. Yet, this morning, you had butter.”
Stars, she spent way too much time with his brother. “What’re you, the food police? I’m allowed to eat something different every now and then, aren’t I?”
“But when it’s the ‘cream cheese imposter,’ it’s not different; it’s bizarre.”
Nosedive held his tongue. What he really wanted to retort was, “Cream cheese in the future isn’t a luxury; hell, it doesn’t exist. Costs too much to produce, and unfortunately, butter becomes the medium for all cooking. So, I have to eat butter because if I don’t, then I’ll get used to eating cream cheese again, and that’ll suck royally.”
Then again, did he really have to go back to the future? Dreg’s spell, for as far as Nosedive knew, could last forever, and this could simply be a second chance to make the future right. Of course, if Saurian’s had the capability Dreg did, why hadn’t Dragaunus done this before? Wraith surely would know…oh, great. Another headache was coming on.
The only explanation to Nosedive seemed he would one day wake up, and the past be left where it couldn’t be changed. That meant only one thing: If he was going to change the past, then he would have to tell the ducks—his brother—everything. But what then? What if the future changed to be even worse? What if those crystal blue eyes he awoke to every morning vanished, and instead, he was left alone with Canard and—well, the little bugger couldn’t be changed. At least Nosedive could find solace in that.
At the demanding look from Mallory, Nosedive simply shook his head. “I’m heading to Captain Comics. Talk to you later.”
“But—”
“Mallory.” Nosedive sighed and gazed with a serious expression, way beyond his supposed years, stunning her to silence. “I really don’t have the patience nor the attention span to decide just what’s wrong at this time. Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you.”
Before she
answered, he hurried across the mall corridor and ducked into Captain Comics. A
small, reminiscent smile etched upon his beak, one of the first since coming to
the past. Unlike every inch of the Pond, which had been tainted by blood and
carnage, this place was unscathed. No one died here, and the last time Nosedive
heard, Thrash and Mookie had escaped the hunterdrones and the Saurian Fleet to
live up in the
Thrash walked out of the back room as rugged as ever, his mullet more than spiky, his earring dangling just above his shoulder. He stopped at the mere sight of Nosedive, despite an impossibly huge pile of comics in his hand, and allowed his pen to drop from between his lips. “What’s wrong?”
Nosedive let out a little chuckle. “Is it really that obvious?”
“You look
like Mondo Man has his powers back or something, but the last time I saw
“More than you know.” Which was, sadly, the truth. “Where’s Mook? I’d like her opinion, too.”
“What? Don’t trust me?” Thrash feigned hurt before pointing out the door. “Getting her hair dyed again. You know how she hates her light roots coming showing through her purple.”
“Who doesn’t?” Nosedive stood straighter and nervously ran a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he tried to decide how or even if he should tell Thrash when his friend urged him with, “Oh, just spit it out!”
“What if I told you I lived through this already?” Nosedive blurted. He wanted to hit himself for his lack of control. Stars, it was like he was teen again.
“I’d say, ‘Welcome to the Matrix.’ ”
The glare
Nosedive sent Thrash only made the older teen chuckle. “Come on, Dive. I’m just
joshing you. I’d say, ‘Go on.’ I need a good story for my blog today.”
Great.
That was all Nosedive needed—Varkais to monitor him
from Thrash’s blog. “I know this is going to sound weird—”
“No. Hockey-playing, talking duck sounds weird. This is just abnormal.”
He had half a mind to smack Thrash, but Nosedive knew that this abuse was only a tenth of what he’d get from his teammates. “See…something happened. I was in the future, talking to an informant of mine, and things went down hill really fast.” He paced about the room with his hands upward, palms open. “Then Dreg—my informant—he cast a spell, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here—eight years in the past.”
Thrash blinked, though not at all shocked or perturbed, before stretching his back until he heard it pop. Sighing, he shrugged. “Way I see it, one of two things happened. You’re crazy—”
Which, as much as Nosedive hated to admit it, could have been a possibility. After all, he was under a lot of stress—here and in the future.
“—or Dreg sent you into the past.”
“But why?” Nosedive halted and gazed down pleadingly to his hands. “It makes no sense. How would that help?”
“Depends upon what’s in the future.”
Whatever fear Nosedive held exacerbated at Thrash’s words, and his dull eyes pierced nonetheless, their message as clear as their coldness. Nosedive would never speak of what he saw—never.
Thrash let out a shivered sigh. “That bad, huh?”
“…worse,” Dive murmured in a gutted whisper.
A laden silence hung between them until Nosedive’s comm. beeped. How it hated it. He took a deep breath before finally letting out a cleansing exhale. Then, running a hand through his hair, he answered, “Yeah?”
“Break-in at Orbital Industries,” Tanya informed curtly. “Teleportation energy, so most likely Saurians. Wildwing says not to engage until we get there.”
Nosedive rolled his eyes. Was he really that impulsive at one time in his life? “Tell him 10-4.” He slammed shut his comm. and walked up to Thrash. Holding his breath, he found himself extending his arm out to his friend. “You have no idea how good it is to see again, dude.”
Thrash nodded, a melancholy glint in his eyes, and it was as if he understood without knowing. They clasped forearms. “Dude, my advice? Dreg sent you back to the past for a reason. Maybe he wanted you to have a second chance to change what you couldn’t before.”
Nosedive snorted. “If he did, then he didn’t know me as well as he thought.”
As Nosedive opened to the door to leave, he glanced back at Thrash’s yell, “She must be really hot.”
A laugh. “What?”
“Your girlfriend or whatever. She must be really hot if you’re willing not to save your brother over her.”
Nosedive’s beak dropped open. How did he—
The smile warming Thrash’s face was more sad than anything else. “Your eyes. They’ve never been that dead.”
Nosedive’s gaze shifted downward, then shot toward the corridor as Mallory ran to join him. “Not my girlfriend, Thrash, but good guess.”
He waved flippantly and dashed out.
*^*^*
The shocked, inane look upon Wildwing’s face almost sent Nosedive in hysterics—for once, he listened!—but as a shadow cast over him, blocking out the sun, the chuckle died in his throat. He glanced upward, then almost allowed the rush of emotion to flow through him until he relaxed completely. The only problem was he felt like he was living a dream. No, a nightmare.
Suddenly, it was night, not day.
He, Grin, and Wildwing were traveling from
They never
made it to
“Dive,
Grin, and Tanya, take the back. Mallory, Duke, you’re with me,” Wildwing’s
voice cut through his reverie, and Nosedive had to shake his head to remind
himself that he was seventeen, not nineteen. It wasn’t
The team split.
Nosedive blinked, then crossed his arms. At times, he really disliked Wildwing’s orders. Oh, he understood them, which was why he didn’t like them. Mallory and Duke were the best fighters on the team, and Wildwing was the leader. Together, they would take the potentially most dangerous front. You know, for someone who always preached to Nosedive about being careful, his older brother sure played the daredevil more times than not.
Grin’s massive hand clasped his now clean shoulder. “Are you alright, young friend?”
No. Nosedive wasn’t all right. The gruesome scene and the battle he just relived in two seconds never happened, and he had the power to stop it from ever happening. All it took was a few utterances to his brother—and probably a little pestering for the team to believe him—and the future would never happen. He only needed to open his beak.
But then those crystal blue eyes wouldn’t be there in the morning. The flash of red hair by his side and the warmth upon his chest would disappear. Could he deal with that? Was it worth saving his brother and family to lose another part of him?
“Just…thinking,” Nosedive mumbled after a moment, bringing his puck launcher to bear and heading after Tanya. “I’m fine.”
“And yet, I feel you are anything but that.”
Nosedive whirled, never knowing Grin to take one of his teammates not by his/her word. Still, the monolithic duck held firm as he clasped Nosedive on the shoulder and passed. “When you are ready to talk, I will listen.”
“What if I’m never ready?” Nosedive snapped, inching to the edge of the science building. “What if I decide to let you all die just because I can’t bear to let someone else die for you? What then, huh?” His anger only seemed to percolate. “What do you say about that? Still willing to listen and pass judge upon something you know nothing about?”
“What are you talking about?” Tanya demanded in a whisper.
“Nothing,
okay!” Just my life.
As they etched about the white building and toward the back docking area, suddenly the door slammed open, and people dressed in lab coats, sweat pants, and even yellow hazard suits, evacuated the building as if they were running with the bulls. Nosedive cursed under his breath, then dashed pass Tanya, ignoring her sputtered protest, and started to struggle through the traffic to enter the building. The room inside quickly became empty except for the blaster fire that suddenly turned upon him. He dove behind a box and freed his puck launcher from its holster.
Shifting into a crouching position, he glanced over the top of the box to see Wraith and the Chameleon searching frantically through the lab for a certain energy source—shit. If they got their scaly hands upon it—then again, if they didn’t—
A blaster smashed into the box dangerously close to his head, and he ducked once more. Squeezing his eyes shut, a red-haired and white feathered duck filled his vision, but what struck him most were the crystalline blue eyes, filled with nothing but warmth and love.
“If only I had a spit!” Siege roared, and puck launchers joined the fray.
Nosedive’s eyes snapped open, and he inhaled a shivering breath. His comm. beeped, allowing for Tanya’s voice to sound, “Uh, Dive! We could use a little help over here!”
By the time he turned, a streaming fireball headed toward the entrance, and he watched helplessly as it crashed into the side of building, blowing the door off its hinges—and sending Tanya soaring from the impact. His comm. sizzled with static, and the weight of the situation crashed down upon his ignorant shoulders. The fight was different.
He blinked as again, he was drawn into thoughts of the future, where Tanya walked him through connecting an explosive device to the Raptor’s main engines. She did the same to the auxiliary power core.
“Hurry up, will you?” she urged, her tone so motherly in its exasperation that he couldn’t help but smile.
“You couldn’t have made these thingamajigs any less complicated, huh?” Nosedive chuckled in a whisper. “I mean, really. You only have yourself to blame for this.”
“And you couldn’t have paid attention when I first told you how to—sizzle!” Her comm. abruptly snapped, and by the time Nosedive realized what happened, an explosion wracked the Raptor, destroying the room she had been in.
Tanya was the second…and to this day, he loathed comm. units for that reason.
His impulses led him to stand up and release two shot, hitting Siege once in the hand to disarm him and a second in the chest to send him reeling backwards. Wraith, however, was already turning, and Nosedive quickly started to lay down suppressive fire.
“Grin! Check on Tanya!” Nosedive shouted. “Then call Wildwing and the others!”
The burly duck nodded then took off, leaving Nosedive alone to face two Saurians. Chameleon shifted instantaneously into a ninja.
Pluh-zee.
Nosedive rolled upon the ground, missing the fireballs once more, then rolled up enough to fire a shot. As the Chameleon flung backwards, Nosedive cried out at the fierce burning, and he clutched his bicep, where Wraith’s fire scourged his peach feathers black. He growled and forced his arm to lift as he pivoted, but a hard fist connected with his beak. His shocked body fell ungracefully to the floor, and after a quick shake of the head, he fumed at the sight of blood dripping upon the malevolent black boots by his knees.
“Tell me, Flashblade. How would you like to die, a painful, torturous death by Drai Cos or by my lord’s merciless claws as they tear your flesh until they reach your heart?”
Nosedive’s eyes burned upward. “Varkais.”
The door to the room crashed against a row of boxes, and Wildwing rushed through. He raised his ice shield just in time to block Wraith’s fireball, and the commotion caught Varkais’s attention just enough for Nosedive to lunge at the mercenary. Together, they fell backwards past Chameleon, who had resumed searching, and crashed into the lab table.
Nosedive felt the feet in his stomach before they threw him off, and he held his breath as he slammed backwards into one of the lab tables. The surface was wiped clean by his armor when he toppled over the side; pain slammed into his back. Grounding his teeth, he barely kept himself awake as he pushed to his feet and saw Vakais charging once more. The teen shifted his feet in the fighting style Duke taught him but Grin helped master, and as Varkais lunged, Nosedive whipped his leg about to send the mercenary flying.
Nosedive cocked his puck launcher, and its smooth hilt with small trigger felt foreign since he’d become accustomed to a blaster. “You’re done, Varkais. You hear me? Your hunting days are over.”
Varkais narrowed his glowing amber eyes as he stood, his hands clenching the table’s edge behind him. “So this is what you looked like as an infant,” Varkais chortled, looking Nosedive up and down. “I surmised this would be rather easy. I have been mistaken—much to my pleasure. After all, I did foster you. I am impressed that you have risen to the challenge.”
“What are you talking about?” Nosedive demanded. He ignored the glistening of teleportation energy and the cocking of puck launchers behind him.
Varkais smirked, as evilly and villainous as Dragaunus himself. “You never found out, I take it? Ah, well. I might as well tell you.” Leaning forward, he revealed haughty, “You were supposed to be my first victim. Don’t give me that look, Flashblade; it’s true. When Dragaunus hired me to hunt the Mighty Ducks, he told me to bring you and your brother to him first, so he could kill you in front of Wildwing.”
A gasp—mostly from his brother, but Nosedive couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop himself from listening, no matter how much wanted to. It couldn’t be true…this whole time…kept alive just to bleed…
“I, however, disobeyed him.”
Varkais flexed his claws. “Oh, at first he was angry, furious. Told me I had no
right to kill Wildwing before bringing him before the
A flash of red-hair caught his peripheral vision. “Are you insane?”
Nosedive fought the urge to tell Mallory all Saurian were.
“What you’re saying never happened!”
“No, but it will,” Varkais nodded in reverence to Nosedive, “won’t it, Flashblade?”
Attempting to keep his face neutral, Nosedive spat, “So, what’s the point, Varkais? You kept me alive—for what? Shits and giggles?”
“Oh, no. I knew you would be the strongest of them all. The moment I met you, I saw your potential. The greatest prey in the greatest hunt. You, I knew with time, mixed with anger and vengeance, and shaken with fear, would give me the greatest thrill as a mercenary. All I had to do was push the right buttons, kill slowly and over time to shake any foundations you might have, give you that need to rise above and strike back, and you would flourish into an opponent whom I could actually call my equal. So far, you have not disappointed me, but this is just the beginning. One of yours has already been hurt. Just wait. They will go before you once more, and trust me.” He winked. “I won’t forget that cute little redhead who follows you everywhere.”
No! Anyone but—how did Varkais even know—“You sick, twisted—”
“Dive, no!” Wildwing shouted, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t killed anybody before.
His innocent baby brother was no more, replaced with a strong commander and a deadly commando.
Nosedive shot, but he already knew it was too late. In a flash of green, Varkais dissipated, and left in the wake, Nosedive felt his hand numb. The puck launcher dropped to the floor with a clink, and he made no motion to retrieve it. Leaning against a lab table, he hardly could realize what happened. All this time, all the pain, all the suffering, and for what? To simply make him into a formidable opponent in a sick game of tag? To mold him for nothing more than Varkais’s greatest thrill?
Stars
above, have mercy.
“…Dive?”
Wildwing. His brother. His dead brother.
“Kid…” Duke, this time, and he, too, was gone—by Varkais’s hand. His voice grated, his tone not gentle and soothing like Wildwing’s “What the hell is going on here?”
Deal with it. He had to. Dealing with it was the only thing he could do…except pushing it away. “Tanya,” Nosedive said curtly and looked at his brother. “Is she okay?”
The Mask’s eyes shimmered red, and Nosedive thanked the Stars that at least he couldn’t see his brother’s face. “Grin has back at the Migrator. She hit her head, but she’ll be fine.” His brother gulped and seemed to conjure enough strength to ask firmly, “Dive, what happened? How do you know that Saurian, and just what is going on here?”
Nosedive took a deep breath and straightened his back to stand without slouching—the stance of a leader—the Resistance leader. Even that was manipulated by Varkais. His entire life—everything but the little redhead—and the tanned one, too. Both were his and not anyone else’s.
Maybe he could take some credit in that.
“Let’s go back to the Pond,” Nosedive conceded. “What I have to say—you should be sitting down.”
A hand grabbed him as he turned, and he glanced back at Wildwing. Yet all he saw was the mangled body hanging from the noose, left for vultures and as a message to any slave even thinking about freedom. The hero, the leader of the Resistance, swung back and forth in the gentle breeze as a gruesome martyr of what could happen to them if they ever disobeyed Lord Dragaunus.
Nosedive still felt the rocks digging into his knees and elbows for days until the remainder of the ducks found him, hunched over at his brother’s feet, tears long dried and shock making him mute. It took months before he recovered from the torture he endured and the mental scar of watching his brother die without any way to save him.
Hell, did he really ever?
“Nosedive…you’re scaring me, little bro,” Wildwing ventured to say.
Nosedive sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “…I’m scaring myself...”
…by what I’ve become.
To Be Continued…