“Fallen Angel”

Chapter Four: Marked Territory

“Dive, what happened?” Canard implored.

Nosedive let out a distraught sigh and winced as Tanya rewrapped his ankle. “Do I have to answer that?”

Wildwing, sitting next to his little brother on the medibed, squeezed Nosedive’s shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Dive, I know this is hard, okay? But I really think—”

Groaning softly, the teen rolled his eyes. “You guys remember Lucretia, right?”

Canard and Wildwing met gazes for a moment, both faces darkening.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“She was always flocking around you,” Canard elaborated and crossed his arms over his chest. “Always calling you that weird name—”

“Dauphin?”

“—and she was always making sure—”

“—I was okay. It was in her nature, alright? She and me, we go way back.”

“How back?” Wildwing grated, though his voice wasn’t threatening.

Nosedive shrugged awkwardly, still held fast in his brother’s hug. “Back.”

“Did you say Lucretia? As in Lucretia DeCoy?” Tanya asked, her voice carrying an unspoken realization. She finished taping Nosedive’s ankle and carefully placed it on the floor.

“Yeah. So?”

“She’s the worst traitor on Puckworld!”

“Yeah, thanks, Dr. Flockheart. I kinda figured that out myself,” Nosedive spat, trying to pull his leg onto the bed. He hissed as pain shot through it and decided to leave it hanging.

Mallory stared at the newcomer suspiciously. “Wait…you go ‘way back’ with a traitor?”

“She wasn’t a traitor when I first met her,” Nosedive defended.

“Yeah, well, she became one! That means you could be—”

“Are you always like this, Captain McMallard? Is there an off-switch somewhere, so maybe I could get a few moments of peace, huh? I mean, really. I’ve been trapped—”

“What did you just say?” Duke’s concerned voice cut through his tirade.

The teen blinked. “Uh…that I really wish I could get at least a few seconds of—”

“No, no, before that.”

“Um…you mean about Captain McMallard?”

Duke nodded. “Yeah. How do you know Mallory’s name? We haven’t introduced ourselves yet.”

Mallory’s hand levitated toward her reclaimed puck launcher, visibly noticeable in the band of her jeans.

Nosedive eyed her with reservation. “Uh, I was with Wing and Canard when they were going through files and stuff to chose their team, Mr. L’Orange. I, uh, helped pick you guys.”

“But before you said you didn’t know anything,” Mallory spurted. “If Dragaunus was really torturing you, then—”

“Mallory, he’s not on trial here!” Wildwing, still retaining his hold on Nosedive, placed himself protectively in front of his brother.

“But—”

“Look what they did to him!”

Nosedive cringed.

“Do you really think Dragaunus would do that to an ally?”

“Dragaunus’ll do anything to get what he wants!”

“You don’t understand,” a whisper interrupted the two as Nosedive bowed his head. Six pair of eyes turned toward the boy. “I wasn’t going to betray my brother and Canard like that. They worked hard to get in the position to finally take out Drag—him, and I wasn’t going to compromise that or Puckworld. If I would have told the Saurians everything, they would have been ready for you…and I couldn’t have lived with myself if you guys failed.”

He ran a nervous hand through his hair as his eyes focused on Mallory wearily. “And…you know, if I would’ve told them…then there wouldn’t have been any, you know, reason to k—keep me alive, so…as long as they thought I knew something, I was worth something.”

Mallory fell silent as she glared, almost sympathetically, at the distraught boy, his shoulders once more slumped.

“You’ll always have worth, Dive,” Wildwing returned. He settled back on the bed and gave his brother a demonstrative embrace.

Nosedive simply shrugged noncommittally.

A laden silence remained.

“It was my fault, you know?”

Wildwing sent his little brother a confused expression. “What was?”

“That Drag—the Saurians attacked the base.”

“Dive, you can’t—”

“Yeah, I can,” he sighed, trying to hold back the tears. “Lucretia kept asking me where you guys went and when you were going to get back. I told her I didn’t know, but she pressed again and again…finally, I just told her you were going after some mine or something…I don’t remember where. I just remember telling her you would back later in the week.” He sniffled and wiped his beak with his sweatshirt’s sleeve. “They attacked two days later.”

“Dive,” Wildwing persisted. There was an obvious edge to his voice. “What. Happened?”

Nosedive closed his eyes, and the words numbly rolled from his beak.

He laid on the top bunk, staring at up the ceiling. Fiddling with his necklace, he turned his head upon the pillow to see Canard’s empty bed at the other end of the room. He needn’t look underneath him to see the second empty bunk. Sighing, he resumed being enthralled by the ceiling.

*Blast!*

He shot up. It sounded like a volcano erupting, as he remembered from his time on Terra Krost, but Puckworld didn’t have volcanoes...

*Blast!* *Blast!*

Explosions! At the base!

The room rumbled violently, jarring him from the bed. Spilling onto the floor with a grunt, he was bounced around again with a wave of repetitive explosions.

The Resistance was under attack!

Finally regaining his senses, he affirmed the lavaliere hanging about his neck before dashing out of the room. He slid to a halt as frantic and desperate people flooded the narrow corridor, clawing and forcing their way through. A red light pored eerily over the refugees, giving them an appearance of victims in a horror movie. A sickening bile rose in his throat, and he knew he should have listened to his father and not watched so many late night flicks.

Gripping his puck launcher, Nosedive felt his insides turn cold, yet with an inhale, he pushed his way against the current toward the blasts.

Squishing his back against the crowded doorway, he inched his way passed an onslaught of screaming and—he winced—bleeding victims of the Saurians’ attack. His eyes caught one such duck, slashed across the chest and stomach, blood pouring from the wound. He reminded him too much of the mines…too much of the slave camps…and he pitched over the nearest trash can and wretched.

A secure hand clasped his shoulder, and the boy looked up from under his limp bangs.

An older duck, Tovance he recalled, met him with a tense voice. “You okay, Flashblade?”

Nodding idly, Nosedive gripped the sides of the can as another surge of explosions slammed the base. He wiped his beak. “Where’s my dad?”

The black-feathered duck shook his head. “No way, kid. General Flashblade sent me to get you to safety.”

“I’m trained, Tovance, unlike the civilians. My father taught me how to shoot, and I’m skilled in close-quarter combat. I know first-aid and….” By the look on the older duck’s face, Nosedive knew he wasn’t convincing. Okay, then…“I’ve been on missions with Wildwing and Canard Bronzeplume.”

As soon as the words spurt from his beak, the man’s beak tensed. “You’ve been on missions with—”

“Yes.”

The man crossed his arms for a moment and fixed Nosedive with a scrutinizing glare. Nosedive’s eyes didn’t waver. Another blast besieged the base and shook the floor.

Tovance nodded sternly. “This way!”

Nosedive hurried to keep up with Tovance as they weaved in and out of the frantic civilians. The blasts echoed louder, closer, and the smoky discharge from the Saurian blasters burned his nostrils. He gripped his puck launcher until it practically shook in his hand.

The people began to fade in numbers as they ventured closer to the battle.. He gulped hard, trying to hold the rest of lunch down, and followed Tovance. His eyes darted to and fro, noticing the caved-in walls and burning wood. A hole was blasted through more doors than he wanted to know. His stomach sunk as a queasy feeling settled in. He stopped briefly in front of a certain door. The metal was contorted and scourged to onyx, while inside, the desk, chairs, bookcases, and materials were all ablaze…

“Dad…”

“Kid,” Tovance called and nodded toward a doorway. Nosedive turned to him and for the first time, heard the blasters and puck launchers battle. Tovance held open the door as Nosedive ducked under the crumbling overpass.

The battle met him, overwhelmed him. The noises, the blasts, the screams and shouts all rushed from the end of the launchers, up his legs and pounded in his ears. Blinking a few times, taking in the whole situation, he took note of the former mess hall, now depreciated to a front. Lined up on their sides were the tables, each covering a few ducks each, who firing their puck launchers in retaliation. The Saurians set up their front at the doors, firing in sequence, yet at the same time at each duck as they jumped up and fired. He eyed a certain Saurian, burly in size, red with a swiping, spiky tail. He had seen that lizard before…when Wing, Canard, and he were coming back from Twin Beaks…his hand lightly touched his side.

The lizard shouted a few commands, then set his malicious sights upon Nosedive. The younger duck gasped at the wicked look in his eyes. So much hatred, so much evil. Not even the Saurian lords from the work camps had that much malice in their eyes…but this lizard…he was hypothesizing.

The lizard brought his blaster to bear! Diving behind a round table set up as a laser just skimmed his torso, Nosedive shook his head to clear it from the look of …that reptile and let out an involuntary shiver. He placed his hand over his singed feathers in hopes that the others wouldn’t notice. Letting out one, brief whimper, he looked at Tovance and two other ducks, one female, the other male, both at least twice as old as he.

“Tovance, you brought a hatchling here!” the tan-feathered female shouted before jerking up, firing a shot, and ducking back under the guard.

Nosedive peeked his head over the table’s edge and fired two shots. “Have you seen my dad!”

“Your dad?” the male scoffed, snapping a fully loaded magazine into his launcher. “We’re under attack, and you’re worried about your dad?”

“His dad is Flashblade,” Tovance informed bitterly, “and this boy is with the Bronzeplumes!”

The female let out a dry laugh. “Where are they now?”

“Nosedive!” a familiar, worried voice sounded over the fray, and the teen whirled instantly to a table two down. A relieved smile grew upon his face.

“DAD!” Regaining his footing, Nosedive dove onto the ground, lasers blasting on his trail, and he rolled behind the table to safety. His father swept him into a swift hug.

“What are you doing here?” Harper Flashblade asked, holding his son at bay. “I told Tovance to—”

“I’m not leaving you, Dad!”

Harper scowled, his brown hair falling limply to the sides of his face. He blew them up with one exhale. “You are just like Wilder.”

Nosedive smiled widely, then flinched as another being skidded abruptly to a stop next to him. He turned and cringed at the sight of the purple-haired, female duck to his right.

Sending him an irritated glare, she fumed, “What the hell are you doing here!” Wrapping her arm about the teen, she smacked him playfully upside the head with the same hand. “You’re supposed to be safe!”

“I wouldn’t leave you guys!”

Lucretia DeCoy rolled her eyes. “This boy is insane, Flashblade. What did you teach him?”

If anything, Harper’s face darkened. “Nothing that you didn’t in your profession.” He quickly detached her hand from his son’s shoulders.

Nosedive knelt in between the two, seeing where the two adults were headed. As Lucretia opened her mouth to retort, Nosedive quickly swooped, “So, Dad, what do you want me to—”

“Go and get on an Aerowing, immediately!”

“But Dad—”

“The scanners are going crazy, Flashblade. Their forces are multiplying! The only way to stop them is outsmart them! If we can wrap around them and attack on two fronts, maybe we can stop them,” Lucretia supplied sharply.

Harper, though reluctantly, nodded. “Okay, then we need to contact General McMallard from the evaluation process and get his forces here.” He turned to the fight, noticing the orders being given by the overweight, red dinosaur. He yelled to the ducks behind him, “Fire at the red Saurian!”

“I can’t do it by myself,” Lucretia added prosaically. “I’m going to need a wingman in order to get there! We don’t know if the Saurians have infiltrated the base!”

“I’ll go with her, Dad!” Nosedive volunteered, even putting up a hand.

Lucretia instantly grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm down as a laser blasted where it was. She shook her head, while giving him a furious glare.

“No!” Harper proclaimed, jumping up and firing a shot. He missed the head lizard by a millimeter. “I’m not letting you—”

“And leaving him to get shot is better, huh, Flashblade?” Lucretia retorted bitterly.

“I’m not sending him off with you.”

“At least he’ll be out of the fighting!”

Nosedive nodded fervently. “I’ll be fine, Dad! Really!”

“Nosedive…” He looked at his pleading son’s face, over at the Saurians, and finally at the irate purple-haired duck. He sighed heavily. “Fine.” He drew his son into a quick hug. “But be careful.”

Nosedive smirked. “Aren’t I always?”

“Never.”

Sending his father one more quick look, he felt a pang of uneasiness hit his gut. He grabbed his father from behind once more and wrapped his arms around the elder’s chest, catching the mallard off guard. Harper blinked down at his son before a loving smile enveloped his beak. Patting his son on the hands, he then tussled the boy’s hair. “Get you,” he urged, smacking Nosedive lightly on the tail feathers.

The teen dove behind the table front as the Saurians rushed the front. Whirling, everything slowed as he saw the burly, red lizard shoot his father in the stomach—

“NO!” He lunged to go back, but two strong arms grabbed him from behind, one about the waist, the other under his arm and around his chest. Wrestling him out the door, Lucretia flung him to the floor of the hallway.

“NO!” Nosedive spun to Lucretia as she slammed shut the door and shot the lock. “We have to go back!”

“We can’t, Dauphin! We have our orders!” She tugged him from the ground and yanked him desperately toward the hall, but with no avail. “Trust me! Your father’s tough! He’ll make it through! We have to go, now!”

“But—”

She ran a hand through his short hair. “Nosedive, please. This is the only way. The Saurians will be through there any—”

“I’m not leaving my father!”

He grabbed the door and pulled, yet it refused to open. Desperation gripping him, he pulled and pulled and pulled…nothing!

Finally placing his two feet flat on the door, he pulled with all his strength—a lance tore through the metal, sending him staggering backwards, gripping his stomach.

Lucretia was at his side immediately, checking for damage. Blood dripped from a slight lesion, but nothing life threatening. She lifted him to his feet as another lance ripped through the doorway, almost granting access to the Saurians.

Nosedive, blindsided, allowed himself to be dragged down the hallway. He finally blinked as he realized that he was being pulled away from this father and the fight. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Your dad?” Lucretia asked poignantly. “I don’t think so, Dauphin. He would have been if you would have just told me what I wanted to know.”

Whether it was what she said or the upsettingly torn tone she used, Nosedive wasn’t sure, but he knew something was wrong. He jerked his hand away as they dashed in a full sprint toward the hanger. “What did you just say?”

Lucretia shook her head. “I’m sorry. It didn’t have to be this way. All he wanted was your brother and Canard, but you were so stubborn, Dauphin. Just like your father and Blade.”

“I—I—I don’t understand, Cret,” Nosedive stammered as they rounded the bend. “What are you—” His feet skidded to a halt. He felt his heart stop. His breath caught in his throat. His head ever so slightly shook in denial, as the coldness of realization seeped into the pit of his stomach.

A menacing red Saurian stood before him, a least twice his height with the same proportion of weight. His muscles rippled from his formable frame, while his sadistic face twisted into the most hellish of smirks. His immaculate white claws flicked from his fist as they throbbed with the necessity to slash. His silver armor glimmered with brilliance and haughty confidence, while his royal purple cape flowed behind him, accenting the malevolence that was the overlord of Sauria.

Dragaunus.

Behind him stood at least ten Saurian soldiers, each with a blaster, each with a lance.

Lucretia stroked his hair as Nosedive stared, demoralized, at the scene in front of him. “I’m sorry it has to be this way…” She draped her arm about the shivering younger’s shoulders. “This is he, my lord,” she declared. “This is Wildwing’s little brother.”

Nosedive ripped from her embrace, back tracking until he slammed into something as hard as a wall. He almost thought it was one until painfully strong hands clutched his shoulders and held him in place, digging their horrid claws into his flesh.

Wincing, he fought to sputter, “Lucretia, h—how could y—”

The purple-haired duck sauntered up to him, tenderly brushing the bangs from his eyes like she had done so many times during his life. For the first time, he flinched away.

“I had no choice. You wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know.” She turned to the side to reveal Dragaunus. “Tell me what he wants to know, and no harm will come to you,” she whispered, almost begging. “Please…”

He gulped as Dragaunus strode behind Lucretia. “So, this is the boy that is related to those petulant Bronzeplumes.”

“He refused to speak with me, my lord. I only pray he will be less foolish with you.”

Nosedive couldn’t hold back the fine quiver that wracked his body, the rising whimper that was trapped in his throat, the need to scream for his brother or his father, even though he knew neither would hear him.

He fought the need to scream to Lucretia.

A sadistic smile crossed Dragaunus’s features as he bent down to be eye-to-eye with the teen and trailed his finger along the boy’s cheek almost affectionately. He grew his proverbial fancy when the teen shivered and shunned away. “He’ll speak, Lucretia. The young ones always do. They are not inert to pain…especially when they are terrified.”

“I will tell you nothing,” Nosedive tried to bite, but it came out nothing more than a weak cry.

One of the guards grabbed him firmly about the waist with one arm, while twisting his left arm behind his back. Restricting his escape, the guard gave his partner carte blanche to take out a hand-held device and activate it—a laser. Nosedive gulped and shunned away, squeezing his eyes shut. Sweat saturated his face, as he felt the laser near his neck—then slice. Venturing one eye open, he saw his chest armor was now cut in half. Despite his struggling, the two guards were able to wiggle him out of his armor, leaving him covered only by his vulnerable jumpsuit.

Dragaunus grabbed the teen’s beak with his claws, moving the boy’s face manually to see the widened and frightened eyes.

“Interesting. That’s what they always say before they—”

He dug his claws into Nosedive’s chest, causing the boy to shriek in pain.

“—scream.”

Once Nosedive finished, no one seemed to move, as the stunned silence sustained.

Canard shifted uncomfortably before finally spilling, “How did Lucretia know you and Wing are related?”

Nosedive winced. Reluctantly, he croaked, “I…uh…I told her.”

Wildwing’s face contorted in disbelief and concern. “Nosedive—”

“I know, alright? I know I promised not to tell anyone, but I thought I could trust her!” the younger brother scowled. “I’ve known her since I was six! I never thought she would…to him…”

“Was she your girlfriend?” Duke asked starkly.

“What? No! Gross! She’s old enough to my mother!” He shivered and groaned, “Please do not put that image in my head, Mr. L’Orange.”

“Then who was she to you?” Mallory pierced.

Eyes narrowed ever so slightly, Nosedive sighed in defeat. “A friend, okay?”

“What kind of—”

“Mallory!” Canard barked, getting in between her and Nosedive. “What is with you? He’s just a kid!”

“A kid who might just be a—”

Tanya rolled her eyes at the two as their voices raised. She walked over to Nosedive, who leaned heavily against his brother’s side. His eyes were absorbed in the argument, though slightly drooping from what seemed like exhaustion. Gently, she grabbed his sweatshirt and, to his dismay, began to tug it upward.

“What the—” he screamed over Canard and Mallory’s voices, silencing them both. The boy recoiled instantly, almost to the point of ducking behind Wildwing. “What are you doing?”

Retreating a half-step, the chagrined medic stammered, “I—I wanted to check the wounds on your chest. I haven’t changed the bandages since —”

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA! What do you mean you—you—” The boy’s eyes darted back and forth, obviously uncomfortable.

“Dive,” Wildwing soothed, his arm still around Nosedive, as he attempted to pull his brother back into a sitting position, “come on. She needs to do this.”

Nosedive moved to stand up only for pain to shoot through his leg, and he fell back to the bed with hiss. That didn’t stop him from trying again, though. “Nope. Uh-huh. No way she’s gonna—”

“Tanya’s the team medic!” Wildwing emphasized, now in an all-out battle with the teen, who was climbing over the bed. Gripping the boy’s shoulders, Wildwing tried with the littlest force possible to restrain his brother. “She just wants to make sure you’re okay!”

“I’m fine!”

Wildwing grabbed his brother around the waist, holding Nosedive in a half-tackle hold. “I’ve seen your chest! That’s not fine!”

“Yeah, well, seen my ass lately?” the teen spat as he squirmed, unsuccessfully, in Wildwing’s arms. “That’s truly a beautiful sigh—ah!”

Nosedive stared at the sudden wall that stood in front of him with a white tank-top and maroon pants. Slowly, his eyes drifted upward to see the stern face that was Grin.

“Uh…h—hi, Mr. Backcheck…”

“It is a mark of a strong will to face one’s fears, no matter how much they overwhelm our karma.” His voice was surprisingly calm and concerned.

“Uh…easy thing to say when you’re a—a brick house.”

With almost graceful ease, Wildwing picked up his brother and sat him gently down on the medibed again. Keeping his firm hand clamped on Nosedive’s shoulder, he tussled his brother’s hair playfully with the other. “First, you don’t swear. Get it?”

Nosedive peered over his shoulder scornfully. “I’ve been swearing since I was six!”

“Get it?”

“Just because you’re older and my brother doesn’t give you the right to—”

“Get it?”

“Who the he—”

“Finish that statement, and I’ll let Tanya wash you again.”

Nosedive huffed as he crossed his arms. Abruptly, his head perked up and turned wide and agitated eyes on Wildwing. “What do you mean…again?”

Wildwing suppressed a laugh. “Just let her look at your chest, okay?”

Rolling his eyes, Nosedive hesitantly raised the front of his sweatshirt up and over his head, though he was disturbingly cautious about keeping the back of the shirt from rising above his hindquarters. It wasn’t too hard considering the abundant size of the shirt versus his slender frame. When he finally was finished, his bare chest, brilliant silver necklace, and upper back was all that was exposed.

Pulling the bandages off, Tanya suddenly gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Canard asked urgently.

Wildwing instantly rushed around his brother. “You’re healed,” he breathed.

Nosedive looked down at his immaculate chest, only obscured by his brilliant necklace and a jagged scar that ran up the left side of his torso. His feathers were ruffled slightly but a vibrant peach with absolutely no discoloration or scars. It was like he was never tortured.

The teen seemed unfazed. “I’m hungry. Got any food here?”

“Tanya,” Duke called, still staring at the boy’s chest, “how is that even possible?”

Fixing her glasses upon her beak, she considered, “Maybe it has to do with his Enchantment, you know? I bet it has some side effects we don’t—”

“Whoa! Hold the phone! Rewind!” the teen bristled as he whirled toward Wildwing. “You told them?”

“Dive, I had no—”

“Bullshit! You promised me—”

“Nosedive! Don’t curse!”

“What do you mean, ‘Don’t curse?’ I’m am Cursed!”

Wildwing rolled his eyes. “You’re Enchanted, little brother!”

“I’m as Cursed as Nightly!” The teen seethed in frustration, then let out a prolonged sigh and collapsed backwards onto the medibed. “This is not happening…This is not happening…”

A hand clasped his forearm, and Nosedive didn’t bother to open his eyes. “Wing, could you just—”

“Oh, grow up!”

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked skeptically from the redhead on his right to her hand on his forearm, then straight back at her.

“You think you’re the first duck to be Enchanted? You think you’re the only one to have problems? The way I heard it you were lucky to have a general who understood that your kind wasn’t a threat but at times an asset to have! Look at you! You have the power to be injured and never show it. You’re practically self-healing. If you could harness that, it would be a gift for our side! But do you care? No! You just lay here and feel sorry for yourself.”

With a disgusted sigh, Mallory strode from the room, the doors seemingly slamming shut behind her.

Nosedive stared at where she left, slowly collapsing back to the bed. “Gift, my—” He looked nervously at Wildwing before adding, “—butt.”

A grin formed on Wildwing’s bill.

*^*^*

“Uhh…”

Nosedive wringed in his bed as pain once more writhed through his lower back.

No, not again!

Please, not again!

His prayers weren’t answers, and like always, the torture came with a vengeance.

His back arched up from the bed, then collapsed back down with reverberation as another throbbing ensued.

It hurt…

Oh, Stars, did it hurt.

Make it stop! Someone! Please! Anyone!

“Wildwing…”

Pain swelled, its burning increasing in tremendous waves of agony. Tears slipped through his clamped eyelids as soft sobs choked through his clenched beak. He couldn’t scream like he had on the Raptor. He couldn’t let the others know. He couldn’t let Wildwing know.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and threw off his covers. Rushing into the bathroom, he spun the shower knob all the way to cold and stripped down.

As the ice cold water cascaded over his body, he sunk to his knees and allowed the point of impact to be his lower back. Still, the pain amplified, ten times, a hundred times…Every second of consciousness bestowed another second of infinite torture. His head tilted back against the water as he couldn’t hold it in anymore!

His piercing cry was drowned out by a shrill wailing that blared through the bathroom door. He didn’t think or wonder about the noise. He couldn’t. The pain ravaged through his shamed body, and he was powerless to do anything but scream. The blaring eventually dissolved into an eruption of engines, and the blast of the Aerowing’s thrusters filled the Pond.

He didn’t move as his timid frame shook. His tears mixed with the water and swirled down the drain. Elbows flat on the tub’s floor, forehead leaned forward against the cold metal, his shimmering necklace clattering with reverberation—motion was physically beyond his capabilities.

A moment passed.

Five minutes.

A half hour.

An eternality.

The pain finally began to subside, and he gradually collected himself on the floor of the shower. He numbly patted his way to the shower knob. The metal screeched, and the frigid water trickled to drips.

Pushing himself to stand, he wavered for a few moments as the world spun without him. A dry cough escaped his beak, his throat raw and hoarse from his expelled anguish.

As he stepped out of the tub and toweled off his body, a splotch of red and black caught his eyes in the full-length mirror.

He froze. His eyes widened. His beak gaped.

He stared, completely rapt, at his reflection. On his lower back…it was there on his lower back!

A taint.

The Stigma.

He hadn’t seen it when Wraith did it, but he had known it was there. How could he not? But now…

Actually seeing it with his own eyes, it was a thousand times more horrible.

To perceive tangible, concrete evidence that he was a personal slave, to see the crest of Draga—His liege on his feathers and skin and to know his body, wholly and completely, belonged to—

He grabbed the shampoo bottle from the counter and with a horrid cry, pitched it into the mirror.

The glass smashed with a shattered resonation as the splinters sprayed the bathroom tiles.

In the reflection of the shards of glass, Nosedive collapsed to his knees, head in and hands...

…and he knew…

…he wasn’t free.

*^*^*

Wraith’s half-lidded eyes glowered with raw cruelty at the transparent orb that wafted between his shriveled fingers. A teal vapor swirled and weaved within its confinement, twisting inward within itself before expanding toward the sphere’s edges. Intensely, the teal drowned into a deep, sinister crimson—blood.

Wraith studied the orb intently. After a still moment, he swiped his hand crossly, and the ball shattered against the wall of Raptor. Wraith snatched his ancient scepter in his hands, and an array of Saurian tradition spouted from his curled lips.

A faded picture formed in front of him, surrounded by a rippling, ash mist. In the reflection he saw a teenage duck with golden hair and vibrant blue eyes. He sat carelessly on an edge of a box…on ice—Wraith dispersed of the picture instantly with a furious gesture of his hand.

Hockey!

Ugh…

The door behind him snapped open with a compression of air. Immediately falling into the deepest of bows, Wraith regarded the overlord of his venous race, “My liege.”

“Have you had any success in locating your sanies, Wraith?”

“My lord…” Wraith didn’t dare look up. “The Stigma appears to be…flawed.”

“WHAT!”

“While the discomfort has been administered expertly to your slave, my magic has not been able to locate him by its tether. I can see him by means of my usual powers, not by his Stigma.”

Smoldering smoke wafted from Dragaunus’s nostrils as he stalked predatorily about the room, stopping at the shattered orb by the wall. “Have you been able to confirm contact with him?”

Wraith hesitated. “No, my lord.”

Dragaunus righted his back and regarded the elder mage with a sadistic leer. “Then we’ll just have to resort to other methods, won’t we?”

*^*^*

“The Ring Two.” Mallory declared prosaically, leaving no room for debate.

Canard pulled on his black leather jacket. “No way. Fever Pitch.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you need a lobotomy? We are not seeing a baseball movie!”

“It’s a sports movie, Mallory. Besides, this planet doesn’t seem to have any

hockey movies in the theatres, and those they have, we’ve seen. I love hockey as much as the next duck, but I cannot sit through Mystery Alaska one more time.”

“Let’s compromise.” Tanya hit the button for arena level as they entered the elevator.

Duke snorted, tying his trench coat about his waist. “A sports horror movie?”

“Friday Night Lights.” The team turned to Grin, who simply stated, “Worst karma to ever grace the screen.”

“How scary are we talking about here, Grin? Is there blood? Will we scream?” Mallory asked excitingly with a slight grin.

“For mercy.”

The elevator stopped, and the door opened with a swish.

“Sounds like a plan,” Canard announced.

“Shouldn’t we ask Dive and Wildwing if they want to come?” Tanya posed, letting down her hair and ruffling it with her hand. Wavy and glistening, her blonde hair seemed to glow even in the dull overhead light, accenting her bright, purple eyes.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” Duke held the door for his female teammates before cutting off Canard. “Wildwing said he was going to take the kid out on the ice for a little while.”

Entering the arena, they were startled by a vehement shout.

“No!”

“Come on, Dive. Don’t be a lame duck.”

“You know, taunting me isn’t going to get you what you want.”

“What I want? Hey, I’m trying to save you! Hockey is a necessity in every hatchling’s life!”

Sitting on the boards of the players’ bench with his new skates dangling over the edge, Nosedive shook his head and stared down at the ice. “I—I don’t know, Wing. What if I forgot how to?”

“Dive, you can’t!” Wildwing burst into laughter as he skated backwards on the ice. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, save the Mask that lay on the bench, the older brother confirmed, “It’s like second nature. You can’t lose it!”

“What if I did?” the boy’s voice resonated with a mixture of fear and disappointment.

“It’s imprinted in you! You physically cannot lose it!” Gliding to a stop next to his brother, Wildwing laid a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder. “Trust me, baby bro. You’re going to be fine. Just try it out.”

Nosedive glared uncertainly at the ice before sighing and closing his eyes. “What would happen if I told you skating wasn’t imprinted in me?”

“Dive, it is.”

“But what if it wasn’t?”

“It has to be. Dad taught…” Wildwing’s words muttered off as his eyes widened. “Stars, Dive…you were only…when…”

Nosedive rolled his eyes and looked away. “And cue the light bulb overhead.”

Wildwing shifted uncomfortably for a moment, tapping the tip of his blade on the ice and sending his brother a lopsided smile. A determined, yet mischievous look crossed his face, and he suddenly lunged for Nosedive.

“Hey, Wing, what gives—”

Tugging his little brother’s arm, Wildwing flung Nosedive over his shoulder and skated out toward center ice.

“Wildwing! Let me down! What the hellll—heck are you doing!”

Ignoring the rant, Wildwing plopped Nosedive exactly in the middle of the Mighty Ducks’ insignia, much to the chagrin of his flustered brother.

Nosedive yelped and grunted as his butt was suddenly wet and cold. “What are you—”

Wildwing looked down at the teen with a grin. “Now, you have two choices. One, you can get off the ice by at least trying to skate, or you can sit there until I get the goals set up, which will take less ten minutes. However, if you are not off the ice by then, I will use you as a hockey puck. Got it?”

Nosedive mumbled something incoherent.

“What was that?”

Glaring up at his brother, Nosedive grated, “You just better not be in range of my sight when I get up.”

“With your attitude, I don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

With that, Wildwing skated toward the goals on the side.

At first, Nosedive just crossed his arms and fumed. After two minutes of that, he busied himself with watching Wildwing fumble with the drill, water, and then baser to put the posts into the ice. A minute later, Wildwing turned around.

“You still there?”

Nosedive opened his beak, then abruptly snapped it shut when Wildwing gave him the patented you-better-not-be-swearing look, with which all the ducks had become accustomed in the last week and a half.

“You know,” the leader baited as he tapped his wrist, “you only have a few minutes left.”

Instantly, Nosedive’s eyes narrowed, and his beak flew open as his hand pressed against the ice…He halted. Looking down with a frown, Nosedive wisped his fingers about the frozen liquid, feeling the crunching texture underneath his feathers. He breathed in the familiar, frigid air of the arena. Placing his skate blade on the ice and rocking it back and forth, he reacquainted himself with the habitual motion and comforting noise.

There were some things that may not be imprinted, the ducks knew, but there were some things you just never forget.

Drawing his skates underneath him, Nosedive pushed one knee to the ice and shakily lifted himself to his feet. He wobbled on his blades for a few moments, his wings straight out horizontally. Suddenly, he shished his blades to the side, regaining his center of gravity.

His hands dropped.

His nervousness evaded him.

And he grinned like a Chester cat at Wildwing, one eyebrow furled upward.

The older brother returned the smile for a brief instant…until he recognized the spiteful threat underneath it.

“Oh, shit!”

“Hey!” Nosedive tsked. “No swearing!”

That was all the warning Wildwing got.

Nosedive blazed across the ice, ice drifting up in a powdery mist behind his skates. His legs moved in perfect rhythm, as he crossed one over the other around the bend of the goal, then flew toward his furiously skating older brother.

On the sidelines, Duke whistled softly. “Man, that kid can skate!”

Canard nodded in agreement. “Once he heals completely, is he going to be an asset on the backcheck.”

“Once he gets healthy,” Tanya reminded surly.

Wildwing spun on his skates and glided short, forceful strides to get away, but it was no use. His teenage brother was a speed demon.

Tongue out the side of his beak, Nosedive lunged, wrapping his arms about his older brother’s waist and dragging Wildwing to the ice. The two slid into the end board, Nosedive still holding fast to his brother, until Wildwing reached under his arms and tickled the teenager.

“Afraid to skate, huh?” Wildwing smiled as Nosedive’s gasping laughter echoed through the arena. “Can’t do it, right?”

“Stop… *Ha Aha!*” Nosedive tried to breathe, but couldn’t stop laughing. He lunged feebly at his older brother, but Wildwing just caught him by the waist and forced him to the ice.

Pressing his weight lightly down, his forearm across Nosedive’s shoulders, the team captain tickled his little brother under his neck. “What did you say?”

“*Snort!* Never… *Ha ha!*”

“Wrong answer!”

“*He Hee!* Brother…*Ha Ha!* abuse!”

“Oh, you really want to get it!”

“*Ha Hee Hee!* Fine! *Gasp!*You win!” Nosedive finally was able to gasp through his laughter.

“What was that?” Wildwing leaned closer as he tickled Nosedive once more. “I didn’t quite hear what you said.”

“*Ha!* You win! *Hee!* Tail feathers!”

Wildwing released Nosedive and sighed heavily as he leaned against the end board. “You are just a bundle of energy, aren’t you?”

Rolling over, sprawled on the ice, Nosedive didn’t even open his eyes. “You haven’t *Gasp!* seen anything yet.”

“You know, for some reason, I don’t doubt it.”

*Cra-ack!*

Wildwing’s eyes darted toward the ice from the exhausted Nosedive. Lunging over his little brother’s prone body, he caught the puck smack in his palm. Eyelids flying open, Nosedive stared in a stunned silence at the puck in his brother’s bare hand then to his brother leaning over him, and back to the puck.

“H—How did you do that?” Nosedive gasped in disbelief, pushing himself up on his elbows. “That puck must have been going over—”

Wildwing smirked. “If you grew up with an older brother and a twin brother who could both hit the puck over a hundred and ten miles per hour, you’d have lost a lot of gloves, too.”

“Seriously? A hundred and ten?”

“Hey, what can I tell you, kiddo?” Canard shished to a halt next to Nosedive, spraying the teen with ice particles. “It’s all in the wrist.”

“Really?”

“No,” Wildwing spat as he pushed himself to his feet and gave his astonished little brother a hand up. “He practiced almost twenty-four-seven for ten years.”

“Shut up,” Canard responded, albeit with a smile. “You’re giving my secrets to a teenager, who will go and tell other teenagers. Before you know it, we’re going to have actual competition in this league.”

“Hey, you act like I can’t keep a secret!” Nosedive remonstrated. His anger slowly sunk into a sheepish grimace. “Uh…never mind.”

Canard clasped his shoulder. “Squirt, I didn’t—”

Jerking away, Nosedive shrugged. “Don’t sweat it, Canard. It’s my bad, anyway.”

An awkward moment…

Duke skated over, stopping in between the three. “So, huh, we’re headin’ out to catch Friday Night Lights. You guys want to join us?”

Nosedive glided a few strides closer to Wildwing, eyeing Duke warily from under his bangs. “Isn’t that a football—” He stopped suddenly, his face cringing as if in pain. He immediately turned sideways from the group and dropped a hand to his lower back.

“You okay, kid?”

As soon as the words left Duke’s beak, Nosedive winced. “And behind door number one—” He waved his hand toward his concerned brother.

“Everything all right, Dive?”

“We have chronic worrier!” Rolling his eyes, the younger brother held in another wince and lifted up his arm, still in a soft cast. “My wrist’s just giving me some hassle. That’s all. Shooting will probably irritate it more, and trust me. I do not want to do that.”

“You want Tanya to take a look at it?” Wildwing questioned, concern masking his words. “Maybe she can—”

“No!” Nosedive squawked, but instantly recoiled. “I’m fine. It’s nothing big. Minute. Practically microscopic. Why don’t you go to the movie? We’ll shoot later when my arm gets off my back.”

“Dive, why don’t you come with—”

Nosedive’s head immediately perked up. “No way,” he breathed with flabbergasted vigor. “No freakin’ way! Seriously! You’ll let me out of my life sentence at Pond Penitentiary?”

Wildwing had a hard time stifling his laughter as both Canard and Duke chuckled. “Yeah, as long you promise to stay with the group and not to wander, all right?”

“SWEET!” he cheered, pumping his fist into the air. Suddenly, he grimaced inward. His fist fell to his side, and his teeth clenched.

Wildwing cocked his head and clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Dive, what’s—”

“Uh, I really…um…you know…really have to…” His voice trailed on as he looked left and right, meeting the worried glances of Duke and Canard. “Um…get my sneakers…yeah. I have to get my sneakers.”

As Nosedive skated by, Wildwing curled Canard’s stick blade around his brother’s stomach and wrenched, effectively causing Nosedive to stagger backwards on his blades. “Hey!”

“Uh, Dive?” Wildwing pointed down to his brother’s feet. “Did you hear me say that your skates are your shoes, or were you still daydreaming about that girl from American Idol?”

Nosedive just fidgeted with the seam of his sweatshirt and suddenly found something utterly captivating about his boots.

Laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder and tipping up Nosedive’s beak, Wildwing smiled sadly. “Dive, you’re acting…weird. What’s wrong—”

“I—I’m cool, Wing!” Nosedive released himself from the stick and the hand, skating backwards away from his brother. “And how would you know if I’m acting weird, anyway? We’ve only known each other for eight months.”

Wildwing nodded reluctantly, as his face fell slightly. “I know. It’s just…You know you can tell me anything, right? If something’s bothering you…”

Nosedive stared at his brother, blinking blankly, face neutral. Canard looked between them, noticing the intense glare from Nosedive as the teen studied Wildwing’s face. Wildwing returned a reassuring grin. Slowly, Nosedive balanced all his weight on the tippy-toes of his skates and whispered something swiftly into his brother’s ear.

Eyes immediately enlarging, Wildwing nodded furiously. “Yeah, sure. Go. We’ll wait.”

Nosedive smiled his thanks and skated off the ice.

“What was that about?” Canard inquired as soon as the teen was out of their audible range.

Wildwing smirked as his cheeks blushed. “He said he hadn’t taken a shower all day and didn’t want his first venture to Anaheim to be ‘memorable’ for his smell.”

“Uh, Wing?” Duke cocked his head to the side and hesitated for a moment. “I saw the kid come out of his room his afternoon…”

“So?”

“His hair was dripping wet. Ya think that’s just from phantasms?”

Wildwing affixed the locker room with a lingering, hard stare before joining the group. Switching his blades to boots, he bowed his head finally as the ducks waited for their youngest member.

Listening absently to the private conversations, he sent the door one last, bitter look, wondering why he was bothered by what Duke had said, and wondering why, for the first time, he didn’t trust his little brother.

*^*^*

Nosedive walked through the locker room doors and shut them behind him with forced gentleness. As soon as he heard the click, his body crumpled to the floor, pain overtaking his being. He squeezed his eyes shut, muffling the scream that rose in his throat. His hands curled into fists as more pain ravaged his back and raced through his nerves before settling into a familiar, agonizing rhythm.

Not now, he pleaded with himself. Please, not now!

Drake One chose that moment to sound.

Nosedive’s head jerked upward, his eyes wide with fear. He couldn’t let the others see him like this! He couldn’t let Wildwing know!

Mustering all the remaining strength he had, he inhaled a short, rushed gasp and dragged himself along the floor, his arms pulling him forward. One exhausted arm lifted, dropped to the teal carpet, then heaved with stressed muscles, before repeating the motions. His chest compressing and expanding widely as his lungs struggled for oxygen, Nosedive strained to reach the handle of the showers’ door—of course, to his plight, the only room in the place without automatic doors! His fingers lightly brushed the metal, yet he couldn’t grasp the curve.

Oh, this was going to hurt.

With a strangled cry, he pitched upward, a raging fire sizzling in his back as he pulled open the door and toppled inside—just as the locker door rooms banged against the walls.

Sucking in hollowed, ragged breaths through gritted teeth, he gulped and pressed his back against the door. Sweat trickled from his forehead; his body shivered from the close call.

Sighing and tipping his head back, he heard the muffled voices of his brother and team.

“Battle gear, ducks! Where’s the disturbance, Tanya?”

“A research facility up North.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator doors slammed shut.

Cringing again as heat radiated from his taint, Nosedive fought to pull off his skates, then drew his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Burying his face in knees, he waited, helpless, for the worst to hit.

*^*^*

Hockey was all about face-offs, Wildwing mused darkly. A face-off between two teams, between two centers, between two goalies. A face-off percentage could either be the greatest asset to a team or the catalyst in the worst of defeats. That was why a captain always put his best face-off man on the ice for the first drop of the puck, why a captain always made sure his best center was in during the most formidable of times.

As captain of an intergalactic resistance-slash-crime fighting-slash-hockey team, a face-off was between two enemies, and a captain had to put his best fighter into play.

And sometimes, even the best devised strategies could lead to bad match-ups.

Standing inside a smaller lab in front of a picture glass window overlooking the a commercial laboratory, Wildwing held his puck launcher directly level with Siege’s face, millimeters away from the lizard’s callously smirking mouth. By the same accord, pointed inches from his beak was the end of Siege’s blaster.

The deadliest of face-offs, and the victor was who could pull the trigger and duck at the same time.

Wildwing’s eyes blazed like fire. “What are you doing here?” he questioned harshly, his voice affirming his unspoken threat.

Siege snorted. “Why would I tell you?”

“You wanna live to see five minutes from now?”

“Do you?”

Wildwing hated to admit it, even to himself, but the lizard had a point.

“A laboratory doesn’t seem like your taste, Siege,” Wildwing spat just to say something. The tension was getting to him as his eye sight drifted to the blaster’s end in his face to Siege’s stern eyes. For one of the first times ever, Wildwing was grateful to be wearing a mask.

“Teenage duck is more my liking.”

Wildwing’s face darkened. His body tensed rigidly. He tried to calm himself, tried to tell himself that Siege was just trying to get under his feathers, trying to ruffling them—

It was working.

“You’d like to know what we did to him, wouldn’t you?” Siege continued, that horrible smirk on his face growing ever so gradually.

Wildwing’s jaw tightened. “Utter one word, and you won’t have a face anymore.” His baleful tone was just as guttural as it was weary. His hand ever so slightly began to tremble.

“It was fun at first, just flogging him. Hearing his pained shrieks fill the Master Tower, it was comforting to fall asleep to at night.”

A queasy, sinking feeling swarmed Wildwing’s stomach, vying with the heated anger boiling in his veins.

“Of course, when he refused to tell us where you were or any of your plans, we had to resort to other tactics. Pulling feathers one by one—”

Wildwing fought the need to close his eyes and scowl. An ancient, suffering method meant to not only kill a captive but also drive him/her insane, Puckworlder Feather Torture hadn’t been used since the first Saurian invasion. It was outlawed across the galaxy. He couldn’t imagine the pain and mental damage his brother endured. He couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“—It wasn’t long before he begged for mercy, but still he didn’t break. So, Wraith had fun draining him for blood to use in his spells—”

“Stop!” Wildwing exploded, much to the pleasure of Siege. His launcher shook in his hand, as his arm strained to stay erect. “Shut the hell up, you deranged, psychotic, blight of scales bastard!” His fingers pulsed on his gauntlet’s trigger.

“Oh, but don’t you want to know?” Siege reveled, his face nor his arm showing any sign of tiredness or weakness. “Chameleon used to turn into you and go into your brother’s cell. I’m sure you want to know your brother would cry into his arms until Chameleon decide to smack him around…and let the little sanies think it was you.”

“I swear, Siege, if you as so much as breathe—”

“Don’t like the name sanies?” Siege laughed hellishly, apparently enjoying the occasion. “You know what it means? ‘Polluted blood,’ slave’s blood.” His tongue lingered upon the last words.

“My. Brother. Is. Not.—”

“Of course, the kick of it all was when Wraith used to probe his mind and plant your death, over and over and over…different ways, each one more bloody, more horrifying. The sanies seemed to hate that the most. His demented screams howled…”

Siege’s words slurred into themselves as Wildwing focused his entire, rapt attention at the end of his launcher. Wild fury smoldered within him. All he had to do was release it…pull the trigger…but then he wouldn’t be there to protect his brother from it happening again. But he could at least end it for Siege…

“You will never harm my brother again,” Wildwing swore viciously.

“The sanies now and always will belong to Dragaunus.”

“NO!”

Siege’s eyes narrowed. “He bears Lord Dragaunus’s mark.”

Wildwing froze as air became stagnant in his lungs. His body flushed completely numb, completely unhinged, utterly breathless. The macabre image of his brother’s back he witnessed a little over three weeks ago flashed through his mind.

“He will never be free. Accept it.” Piercing in a sadistic whisper, Siege admonished, “He accepts it.”

No…

“Try as you will—”

No, no! They haven’t…you’re free. Don’t you see that? You’re free, Nosedive. You’re not a slave...

“—he will always carry the Mark—”

How did this happen? How could I let this happen to you?

“—and nothing you can do can free him from that chattel.”

I’ve failed you…I’ve failed the only person who ever depended on me…

“Your brother will never escape. His life is bound to Lord Dragaunus forever. He can hide. You can shield him,” Siege proclaimed surly, “but Lord Dragaunus will reclaim what is his one day.”

Wildwing didn’t move. His heart froze in his chest. His breath refused to leave his lungs.

As Siege smirked sinisterly, his eyes bristling with victory as he pulled—

*BANG!*

Siege’s eyes rolled back into his head as his body lurched forward, brushing Wildwing’s shoulder and slamming into the concrete like deadweight. The leader dropped his puck launcher his side, his arm aching with strained use. In front of him stood the Mighty Ducks, Mallory’s arm extended with a smoky puck launcher.

“Wildwing,” she started, but stopped at the look in his masked face. “…are you okay?”

Wildwing slowly closed his eyes. His gauntlet slipped from his numb arm to the floor, clattering in the silence that remained.

“Bro?” Canard’s apprehensive voice asked with blatant hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you hurt?” Tanya edged closer, only to stop when Wildwing put up a single finger and took a step back.

He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t process it. He couldn’t...Nosedive wasn’t…He wouldn’t allow his brother to be…His brother was home. Fine. Okay. All right. Probably sleeping soundly…

With a primeval cry, he punched through the window beside him, the glass shattering. He kicked the wall, then grabbed a nearby table and with a strained groan, uplifted it, its containments spilling off the side and breaking in a horrific cacophony. Gaining a better grip, he threw the table through the rest of the smashed window, sending it thundering into the tables below. With a horrendous howl, he collapsed to his knees and hunched over, fists flat against the tiles on the floor, lungs burning for air.

A shocked silence.

“Wildwing?” finally, Duke ventured.

Wildwing tried his best to stop the tears from tricking down his cheeks but failed miserably. He tore the Mask from his face.

Slowly, Grin stepped forward, clasping his monolithic hand on Wildwing’s shoulder, offering silent comfort for the distraught mallard.

“He doesn’t belong to them,” Wildwing vowed, mortified.

“What are talking about?” Tanya asked, kneeling down in front of him. “What did Siege say to you?”

Wildwing met her gaze with glistening eyes as his tone hoarsened. “He’s not a sanies. He doesn’t have polluted blood.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“I won’t let them take him from me,” he reiterated wryly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “I won’t let Dragaunus reclaim him.” The words sputtered with venom from his beak. “He’s not a slave, not anymore! He doesn’t belong to them! I. Won’t. Let. Him.”

Tanya closed her eyes for a brief moment, as Mallory bent down and laid her arm across Wildwing’s shoulders, squeezing them gently. Duke and Canard shared a commiserating gaze as they all realized of whom Wildwing spoke.

Tanya cupped his fisted hand and graced him with a reassuring smile. “We won’t let him.”

*^*^*

“So…now what?” Canard asked the question of the last seven hours, leaning up against the hallway wall and staring at the caged Siege. The Saurian was still unconscious from Mallory’s puck, but was now at least confined to the bowels of the Pond, chained to a steel and lead wall that was reinforced by a concrete barrier on the other side. The other three walls of the box-shaped cell zapped in unison as the kiwi-green lasers, no more than an inch apart, kept the prisoner incarcerated.

Wildwing sighed and looked over at the captive, his face upsettingly grim. “Honestly, bro? I think the only thing we can do is keep him here.”

“A Saurian pet?” Mallory mused with a smirk. “But what do we feed him?”

Duke snorted, his sword still firmly held in his hand. “From the obvious duck pâté, sweetheart? I’m thinking Kibble and Bits.”

Wildwing ignored him. “Tanya? You’re team tech. Is that cell safe enough, and…what do we feed him?”

“Uh…the cell is resistant and armored to no end. I made sure it could hold Dragaunus himself if we ever caught him. That’s not a problem…” Her words trailed off. Rustling her hair, she confessed reservedly, “As for the food, I have no idea.”

“Wonderful.” Rolling his eyes, the leader rested his sights on his team. “Okay. I don’t think we should leave Siege alone for a moment. At least two of us should stay here at all times. Grin, Duke.” Wildwing arched an eyebrow at the sword still activated. “Would you mind taking the first shift?”

Grin nodded and immediately fell into a meditative position on the floor.

Duke, on the other hand, eyed the cell once, before finally deactivating his sword. “Yeah. Sure. But if he wakes up and starts talking, I’m slapping him with a rolled-up newspaper.”

“You have permission to shoot to kill,” Wildwing said, though the melancholy tone of his voice alerted everyone that he wasn’t in the mood to joke. Wildwing didn’t meet the questioning stares as he made his way to the elevator, followed cautiously by the rest of the team, save Grin and Duke.

Mallory opened her beak, but it was Tanya who beat her to it, “Are you sure you’re okay? What Siege said before…I know I was shaken, and Nosedive’s not even my brother.”

Wildwing at first didn’t answer. As the elevator came to a jumbled halt and the doors opened, he finally confided, “I don’t know what to tell Dive.”

“What’s to tell?” Mallory asked, walking toward the Main Room.

“Don’t you get it? We have a Saurian here who tortured my little brother and is dead set on bringing Dive back to slavery,” Wildwing fumed. “He’s been recovering, finally starting to relax and be himself again, and now I have to tell him we’re living in the same building with the one of the creators of his phantasms? How can I do that?” His voice was strangled with emotion.

Tanya shrugged and stopped in front the Main Room’s door. “Do we have to tell him? Maybe we can just…pretend like Siege isn’t here.”

“He’s not five, Tanya,” Canard exasperated. “We can’t return to the land of make believe and stories of when Saurians were myth. The threat is real and two levels below us. He needs to know.”

“So he needs to be afraid all the time? How’s he going to sleep at night worrying that—”

“—the big, bad Saurian’s in his closet? He’s sixteen. He’ll deal.”

“All right!” Wildwing screamed, putting his forefingers to his temples and rubbing. “Look. Dive may be a teenager, but he’s still a kid, okay?” he snapped at his brother, then whirled to Tanya. “However, we can’t not tell him because if Siege does get out, I don’t want Dive to be captured just for being at the wrong place at the wrong time in his own home.

“So, for tonight, discussion closed. Let’s get a few hours sleep, and we’ll deal with this in the morning.” Entering the Main Room, Wildwing ordered, “Mallory, you and I will take the next shift. I’ll meet you at—”

“Shh!”

The team stopped just short of reaching the other side and turned. By the couch stood the aforementioned redhead, finger to her beak accompanied by a soft-hearted smile. Furling an eyebrow and pointing downward, she drew everyone closer.

On the couch, remote tucked under his waist, lay Nosedive. With his hair slightly ruffled about his crown, hands a makeshift pillow, the teenage boy slept soundly, his face relaxed in peace. He seemed quite comfortable, still totting around in his brother’s sweatshirt and pants.

Wildwing smiled as he came around the couch and slowly gathered his sleeping brother into his arms. With a faint grunt, he lifted Nosedive carefully and waited a moment to make sure his little brother didn’t stir. Instead, Nosedive leaned his head against Wildwing’s shoulder, hands against his brother’s chest. Wildwing motioned for the others to head out, following quietly behind them.

As they reached their quarters, he bid them a silent good night, walking the complete length of the hallway to the last room. Standing at the doorway, he inched the hand that held Nosedive’s torso to the keypad and managed miraculously to punch in his brother’s code. A moment later, the doors swished opened, and he entered.

The walls were eerily bare. Shadows danced across them, silhouetting Wildwing’s frame contrasted by the hallway light. While the older brother could only imagine what Nosedive’s room looked like on Puckworld, drab walls and carpet-less floors were not the impression Nosedive radiated. As he pulled back the blanket and cover, still just the infirmary’s awful, plain white, he noticed two posters plastered on his brother’s ceiling. While Nosedive had become a hermit involuntarily, Wildwing wasn’t much better, only leaving the Pond once to get underwear for his brother. However, he also brought back two posters—one of Simple Plan, the other of Green Day. Somehow, they both seemed to accent Nosedive’s rebellious attitude.

Tucking his brother into his bed, he couldn’t help but realize it was probably that riotous attitude that had saved Nosedive in the Raptor. Still, he wondered exactly what was going on in his brother’s head, what damage Nosedive had sustained from Dragaunus. Though they shared a closeness, despite the short time in which they had been reunited, Nosedive had yet to confide in him. Even after the work camp, his little brother refused to speak of the incidents he had witnessed, even to his father. In fact, Wildwing doubted Nosedive ever confided in anyone.

Stars, how much could a teenager bear alone before self-destruction?

Cursing under his breath, Wildwing couldn’t suppress the urge to brush a few, stubborn strands of hair from Nosedive’s youthful, innocent face.

Don’t you see? Wildwing thought earnestly to his little brother, as if the teen could hear him. Don’t you see I’m here to help you? You don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to act all big and bad. You’re still just a kid. Be a kid, you stubborn idiot. Let me help you.

The teen stirred with a deep, prolonged intake of air. His tired eyelids lifted. “Wild…wing?” The boy’s bleary eyes focused upon the white mallard. “Whaz wong…”

“Nothing, little brother. Go back to sleep,” Wildwing urged in a loving whisper, once more smoothing down Nosedive’s hair. The teen nodded obediently, too tired to retort, and snuggled against his pillow, his eyes once more drooping closed. Wildwing nodded once to himself, then left the room.

The door reopened a split second later. Wildwing sneaked back inside, carrying a pillow in one hand, a blanket dragging behind him in the other.

Settling down on Nosedive’s couch, Wildwing watched his little brother again, trying to calm the twinge of fear that stabbed him. Nosedive was here, alive, and not going anywhere, and that was only thing that could bring him solace.

“ G‘night, Wing,” Nosedive mumbled through the darkness, not even lifting his head from the pillow.

Wildwing smiled as he closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Dive.”

*^*^*

The bathroom walls dripped with condensation as heat sweltered within the small confinement, making it almost unbearable for the leader of the Mighty Ducks. However, after the encounter with Siege, Wildwing was more than inclined to take a long, relaxing shower—after he made Tanya promise to watch over Nosedive. Pulling on a tee-shirt over his jeans, Wildwing stopped when he heard the distinct sound of voices in his bedroom. Not the team’s voices, though…no…Did someone just say “Turtle power”?

Opening the door to his bedroom, Wildwing almost jumped. On his made bed sat Nosedive, cross-legged, remote in hand, enthralled by a cartoon show on Wildwing’s TV.

“Morn’ bro,” Nosedive greeted with a tiny wave before turning his attention back to the television.

Wildwing gagged. “Don’t you mean afternoon, Dive?”

“Nope,” the younger brother gleamed as he pointed to the hockey puck clock hanging from the wall. “Morn’!”

Wildwing sent the clock a pointed stare. Ten-twenty-six. “Shocker,” he commented. He crossed the room, ruffled his little brother’s hair, and plopped down on the bed next to Nosedive. “Watching anything good?”

Nosedive shrugged. “You like cartoons?”

“Not particularly. Aren’t they for kids?”

“No way, dude!” Nosedive sounded offended as he flicked a hand toward the set. “Look at the sophisticated action sequences and totally awesome animation! It’s the complete package, bro!”

An Oriental-type fighter wearing a lampshade for a hat smacked the end of his lance into a rather large, green turtle’s stomach, sending the amphibian off a roof.

Wildwing swallowed and grimaced. “You know, why don’t we turn the channel to something less…realistic.”

“Something less realistic than cartoons?”

“You mean less realistic than a humanoid-animal being whom, from what I can gather, is attempting to stop evil from taking over the planet?”

Nosedive opened his mouth to retort, blinked, cringed, and then grabbed the remote. “So, Fox News it is?”

Leaning over and snatching the remote from Nosedive’s hands, Wildwing shut off the TV. “Dive, what’s got you up so early? I was under the impression you’d turn to dust if you ever saw the daystar before noon.”

“Nah, but there once was a rumor that I’d turn to stone,” Nosedive laughed, then pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Seriously, bro. Come on. You said I could go out yesterday! I was kinda hoping we could, you know, hit the mall or something.”

Sighing deeply, Wildwing thought for a moment before rubbing his brother’s leg. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, little brother. Maybe a few more weeks out of the spotlight would be good for you. Once Phil finds out about another duck, I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

Nosedive cocked his head to the side and looked at his brother quizzically. “Phil?”

“Don’t ask,” Wildwing replied with a dry chuckle. “You don’t want to know until you have to know.”

“So…”

Wildwing nodded. “So…”

“So, let’s go! Come on, Wing!” Nosedive grasped his older brother’s arm and tugged. “I’m sick of being here all day! It’s like torture! Why won’t you let me—” His incessant pleading stopped suddenly when he caught his brother’s somber gaze and falling expression.

Wildwing lightly patted his brother’s hands. “Earth’s…well…”

“Inhabited by the Night of the Living Dinosaurs,” was the stark, yet hushed interruption.

Wildwing swallowed hard, as Nosedive’s hands slipped from his wrist. He looked down sadly at Nosedive, head hung lowly, eyes buried under his bangs. He wasn’t at all surprised when Nosedive didn’t look up.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Wildwing teased.

Nosedive finally looked up, his expression stealing the air from Wildwing’s lungs. His eyes hollow, echoing unconscionable amounts of anguish and fear, his face languid and drained of color, he resembled a metaphysical spirit of his usual, boisterous self.

“Dive…”

“What did they say, Wildwing?” His voice grew in intensity, as tears rimmed his eyelids. “What did they tell you?”

Wildwing shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here now, and it’s going to be okay.” He moved to touch his brother’s shoulder but was shocked when Nosedive jerked out of his reach.

“Okay, huh? Okay as long as I’m here, right? Okay as long as I don’t wander or leave here? Okay as long as I trade one prison for another!”

“At least here you’re not getting flogged! At least here you’re not getting your feathers pulled one by one or having Wraith drain you for blood!” Wildwing shouted angrily. “They didn’t let you go, Nosedive, and they want you back! They want to torture you all over again! Siege said that Dragaunus wants to reclaim you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him!”

Nosedive’s frightened, yet at the same time, resentful eyes pored into Wildwing. His body shook, and Wildwing wasn’t sure if his brother was scared or just peeved. With a sharp breath, Nosedive crossed his arms and looked away, as tears sparkled down his blushed cheeks.

Jaw tense, Wildwing suddenly felt the urge to kick himself and realized, at that moment, he couldn’t tell Nosedive about Siege. “Dive—”

“What makes you so sure you can stop him?”

“What!”

Nosedive shook his head apathetically and slinked down off the bed. “Nothing. Forget it,” he mumbled, heading toward the door.

Wildwing caught his forearm as he passed. “No, I won’t forget it. What did you mean by that?”

Nosedive attempted to pull his arm from Wildwing’s grip, only for his brother’s seize to tighten. “Let me go!”

“Not until you tell me what you meant.” Wildwing stood and grabbed his brother’s shoulders.

Nosedive flinched but refused to look upward at his towering older brother. His voice turned beseeching. “It’s nothing! I meant nothing, alright? Leave me alone!”

Wildwing felt the boy squirm and shudder in his arms, saw his brother’s face purposely hanging toward the floor, saw the teen’s fear—of him. Nosedive never was afraid of him. Never.

He suddenly remembered with a cold, sinking feeling what Siege had said about the Chameleon, and Wildwing growled. He wanted nothing more than to go downstairs and tear Siege apart, but he couldn’t…not now…Instantly slackening his hold, Wildwing gently pushed Nosedive down to the bed, and then, one hand still attaining a hold on Nosedive’s forearm, he pulled his desk chair to him. Bending down, Wildwing looked upward at Nosedive.

The teen still refused to turn toward him, neck now twisted back over his shoulder.

“Baby bro, look at me,” he whispered affectionately.

Another shiver overtook the teen’s slender frame.

“Stars, Nosedive, will you just look at me? I’m not going to hurt you, all right? I’m not. I’m here to help you, to take care of you, not to harm you, okay? So, will you please just look at me?”

Slowly, timidly, shaking, Nosedive’s head curled back around, his tearstained face and eyes boring into Wildwing.

“Look, I’m…I’m new at this, okay? I’m not exactly sure what do in these kind of situations. I was always the little brother when it came to Shane, and with Canard, well…I could always beat him up when there were ever any problems. That’s just how we worked.”

Nosedive quivered at the word “beat,” and Wildwing fought a cringe.

“But…there are a few things you have to know, okay, deep down within your soul. One, I’m not going to say that I will never hurt you or let my beak fly without thinking sometimes, but I will never, ever, hit you.” Dark lines under his eyes carved his seriousness and melancholy honesty as he stared up at his brother, maintaining eye contact. “All right?”

Nosedive returned a tiny nod, sniffling.

“Two, I searched for you for fifteen years. I’m not just gonna give you up for the hell of it because some overgrown snake who grew legs says I should. I fought to the death for you back at the mine, and I’d do again in a heartbeat, okay? So relax. Dragaunus isn’t going to get you again. I promise.”

Nosedive looked down at the ground again for a moment, wiggling slightly in Wildwing’s grasp. Nudging his little brother’s beak with one hand, Wildwing smiled as he once more met Nosedive’s gaze. “Three, if something’s bothering or you need to talk or just need to be with someone, I’m always here. You don’t even have to knock, which I found out today you don’t know how to, anyway, so I don’t even know why I brought it up.”

Nosedive rolled his eyes slightly, as a brief chuckle escaped his beak. “Yeah, well, you suck at locking your door.”

“Ah, it speaks,” Wildwing said with mirth and put out his pinkie. “We cool, now?”

Eying the finger, Nosedive stared at Wildwing skeptically. “You’re joking, right?”

“What? Don’t brothers do this sort of thing?”

Nosedive snorted and wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeves. “Only dorky brothers who are, like, five.”

Wildwing shook his head in disbelief and rose, tussling Nosedive’s hair.

“You know…” Nosedive contemplated after a moment. “Some brothers punch fists.”

“Only gangster brothers who, like, think they’re all that and more and a bag full of pucks.”

By the look on Nosedive’s face, Wildwing knew his brother didn’t appreciate the mocking. Wrapping his arm around his little brother’s shoulders, he led Nosedive out of the room. “Look, I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out yet, okay? Let things calm down a little, and then we’ll see about an outing.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“I kinda noticed, but them the breaks, little bro. However,” his tone raised mischievously, “if you play the puck right, I might just ask Canard to go out and get you some tacos.”

“Tacos!” Nosedive yelled elated. “They have tacos on Earth?”

“Wildwing, babe, head moneymaker, decider of my bank account!”

Wildwing felt his brother tense next to him and smiled down at Nosedive’s startled face. Though, when he looked over his shoulder, he scowled, “Phil, I thought I asked you to stay out of the Pond.”

“But that was over a month ago, a month in which my team hasn’t been getting me a nice, fat retirement pension.” The human turned to Nosedive, his mouth gaping at the sight of the teenage duck. “You, I haven’t signed.”

“Uh…”

“Dive, Phil. Phil, Dive,” Wildwing interjected curtly, suddenly putting himself in front of Nosedive. “He’s not for sale, so don’t even ask.” He wrapped his arms around his brother’s smaller frame and clasped them behind the teen’s waist, gaining a tiny, surprised yelp from Nosedive.

“The rumors were true! Does he play hockey?” Phil posed anxiously.

“Everyone on Puckworld does, Phil.”

“Does he model?”

“Phil.”

The portly manager bristled with excitement as he ripped out his cell phone and began to flock toward Wildwing. “How old is he? When he did get here? What can

he—?”

Still entangled in his dazed brother, Wildwing backed up, effectively keeping himself between the manager and Nosedive. “Phil!”

“I doesn’t matter! We have to get him signed! He’ll be our breach to the younger generation!”

“Phil, my brother is not going to be your passport to Millionaire Acres! Back off!”

“He’ll debut tonight! At the game!”

“Game?” Nosedive peeked curiously over Wildwing’s shoulder. “What game?”

*^*^*

“So, let me get this straight,” Nosedive slowly considered as he looked about the locker room at the dressing ducks, “you get paid to play hockey.”

Duke laughed as he strapped on his helmet. “You got it, kid.”

“But even on Puckworld, no one got paid just to play, not even the DuCainian Zenith players.”

“Just a perk of being on a world that values sports over everything else,” Mallory replied with a smile. She grabbed her stick from her locker.

A mischievous grin curled on Nosedive’s beak. “So, how much do you make?”

Canard snorted coming out of the elevator with Grin, both of whom were still decked in their battle gear. “See the downstairs?”

“Uh, ch’yeah. Kinda hard to miss the super sized computer.”

“That took about half of our bank accounts.” He stopped next to Wildwing, who buckled his pads to his legs, and whispered into his ear, “Phil’s watching over Siege.”

Wildwing nodded briskly before asking equally as low, “Is he trying to sign him?”

“Not when we left, but I think he was drawing up a contract.”

“So, do you guys rock or what?”

Everyone turned to the brash teenager sitting cross-legged on the bench in the middle of the locker room. Sporting his older brother’s extra jersey, he beamed with pride.

“Rock?” Tanya echoed, baffled.

“Yeah.” Nosedive nodded empathically. “Do you guys rule the ice or totally suck?”

“Kid,” Duke started with a brief laugh and quick shake of the head, “when a team goes thirty-nine-and-oh before forfeiting, I’d say that was pretty far from sucking.”

Nosedive met his smile. “So, Ducks rock, huh?”

The ducks all traded thoughtful expressions, as slowly, they began to grin.

Fifty-nine minutes and thirty-three seconds later, Nosedive Flashblade, wearing the name “W. Bronzeplume,” pumped his fist into the air. “DUCKS ROCK!” he shouted from the bench as Grin scored the third goal of the game.

From behind him, the section of fans began to chant the same phrase. It quickly infected the rest of the arena, and suddenly, twenty thousand screaming fans cheered the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim as the clock wound down to zero.

As the buzzer sounded and the Ducks convened at center ice, they thrust their sticks into the air.

“DUCKS ROCK!”

From the sidelines, Nosedive caught his older brother’s eyes and smiled widely. Sixty-two minutes later, Wildwing grabbed Nosedive in a one-armed hug as the

news cameras filled the locker room. A microphone was thrust into Wildwing’s face.

“So, your little brother has joined you from Puckworld, Wildwing,” said John Buccigross. “I think the questions on everyone’s mind are: when is the invasion, and what will it do to NHL hockey as we know it?”
“I don’t know much about an invasion,” laughed Wildwing, “but I do know that the league won’t be the same once Nosedive takes the ice. He has the knack for leaving his mark on everything he does.”

Nosedive leaned into his brother’s embrace, despite the sweat dripping off Wildwing’s feathers and uniform. He smiled with tranquil contentment. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but as long as Wildwing was dealing with it, he didn’t care.

Contorting his body slightly into a more comfortable position, he felt a twinge of soreness emit from his back. One hand dropped to the wound, rubbing it idly.

He wasn’t the only one who left his mark on everything.

To Be Continued…