Chapter Two:

“In the Balance”

“Uhhh….”

A stabbing pierced through his skull, dragging him back to reality, and suddenly he felt fourteen thousand tons of atmospheric pressure pounding his head relentlessly. Foolishly, he dared to wonder what the heck happened.

Attempting to sit up, he realized his hands wouldn’t move from behind his back. That was never a good sign. His wrists forced one upon the other, a slight sizzling buzz sounded; that could mean only two of two things. One, he was attacked by killer bees who still swarmed him, or two—energy bonds. Huh. Given his current situation, he had to guess the latter, but somehow, that wasn’t very comforting. Wiggling his feet—yup, those were not bound. Good sign. Lying on the floor defenseless, bad sign. Cold touch about his neck—his necklace still hung there, most blessed, most glorious good sign. *Sniff* *Sniff* The stench of rotting carcasses and caked blood, he knew that one too well, as dread swarmed in his gut. Oh, yeah, the worse sign. The Raptor.

Note to self, never follow Saurians alone into an old KFC. Bad sign! Bad sign! BAD SIGN!

Mustering all his courage, he ventured to crack open one eye. The intense light blinded him instantly as agony writhed into his head. Hissing, he had no choice but to wait until the light aquatinted once more with his sight. Attempting to look again, he wished he hadn’t. Met with a blaster end pointed directly between his eyebrows, he really wished he hadn’t.

“Grilled or fried?” Siege considered, a malicious smile etched upon his mouth. He turned to shape shifter next to him. “I always wanted to try a duck roasted and seared slowly in his own juices.”

Now that was something he never wanted to know.

Chameleon pondered thoughtfully, forming into Emeril Lagasse. His booming voice echoed that of the chef. “How ‘bout we add a little pepper, huh? BAM!”

Rebel pulled at his binds and squirmed as pain shot through his shoulder. Again, not a good sign. Damn.

“Aw, looks like the little duckling hurt, Siege.” Chameleon observed as he shifted back to his original form. “Maybe we should put him out of his misery.”

Rebel’s face tensed, and he flinched as they poked his stomach and moved to pinch his leg. They were seeing where they could cook him! Okay, not a good sign. Not a good sign at all!

“You know how I like my Saurian?” Rebel laughed dryly with bravado. “Silent!”

Inhaling sharply, he twisted his legs along the floor, unhitching Chameleon and sending him reeling to the floor. Flipping over his body, his legs smacked directly Siege’s kneecaps, causing the burly lizard to cry out in pain and collapse to the floor.

Rolling over his shoulder, Rebel hissed as he gained his footing, the aforementioned limb more than a mere disturbance. It was downright burning now! He leaned over slightly, his shoulder pain subsiding ever so slightly, but not enough for him to function normally.

Surveying the room, he noticed one way out and dashed toward the doorway. As he almost reached freedom, the doors automatically opened, revealing a menacing, crimson lizard, easily a foot taller than Rebel with at least two hundred pounds more bulk than he.

Dragaunus.

“Hello, duck.” The banished Saurian overlord seethed with feigned pleasantries. “Please, don’t leave upon my account. We have much to discuss.”

The malicious tone in Dragaunus voice unnerved him. “Discuss?” Slowly Rebel stepped backwards, his fanatic eyes searching for another escape route. “Call it a hunch, but I doubt you want to discuss anything.”

“On the contrary, you have a certain artifact in your possession that could be of great use to me.”

Ah. Like Dragaunus would keep him alive for any other reason.

Going back to previous signs—lavaliere about his neck, bad sign.

Cocking his head to the side, Rebel noticed with alarm that the henchmen were now up and cornering him.

Checking again—nope, still not a good sign!

And for the first time in five years, Rebel Drakeson trembled.

A nagging tugged at his gut again. Stop it! Stop it!

Stopitstopitstopitstopit…!

“Caged bird, are we?” Dragaunus flaunted, obviously enjoying Rebel’s discomfort. The Saurian henchmen behind him chuckled wickedly.

“Nah. I’m just looking for the little duckling’s room. A little help here, huh?” Eyes darting looking left and right, Rebel finally fisted his hands behind his back and made a choice.

Monolithic, periling Saurian overlord or two henchmen, super sized?

Henchmen.

Turning on his heel, Rebel kicked out, connecting with Chameleon’s stomach and sending him flying backwards into the wall. He shifted his weight onto his back foot and lifted his leg, only to have Siege whirl his spiked tail and smack directly into Rebel’s abdomen, knocking the shocked duck to the floor.

Sucking in ragged breathes, the haggard duck was more concentrated on breathing than struggling as Chameleon grabbed him from behind, his abnormally large arms encompassing Rebel’s slender body. Carrying the squirming duck back in front of Dragaunus, Chameleon dropped him to knees, then cupped his enormous hand over Rebel’s entire shoulder, keeping him still.

Dragaunus’s fiery eyes focused unkindly down at Rebel, his face tense and grim. “Leave us,” he commanded, never looking away from his captive.

Rebel met his gaze defiantly.

“But boss—”

“I said ‘Leave us!’ ” Dragaunus growled as he raised his forearm blaster and fired.

Siege and Chameleon scrambled away as the red laser blasted the barrels behind them, exploding many and sending smoke about the small confinement.

Rebel cringed and tensed, bowing his head as the heat brushed against his face.

He finally uncoiled as he heard the door whoosh close, and he was left alone with Dragaunus.

Instinct—Ace of Spades—bad sign.

Wiggling his arms, he breathed a sigh of relief. The ingenious iguanas forgot to take off his comm. If he could only reach the call button…

“So, you have survived the explosion,” Dragaunus began harshly as he stalked about the twenty-two-year-old, his cape wafting the smoke about the room.

Rebel kept his head level, but his eyes followed the overlord about him. “No, I’m a figment of your imagination. Do you want me to sing you the song? I’m owned by Disney, you know.”

*Slash!*

Rebel faltered wearily upon his knees and slumped onto his hinges. His body shivered involuntarily. Clenching his teeth, he didn’t need to see his back to know Dragaunus’s claw marks when he felt them.

“You will be silent until required to speak, duck, or you will not survive this.”

Rebel met Dragaunus with sardonic eyes as the overlord encircled him, yet kept silent.

“Better,” Dragaunus observed with a self-satisfied, diabolical chuckle. It made Rebel’s insides flush cold. “Much better. Now,” he leaned close to Rebel’s beak. “Where’s the Key?”

Swallowing nervously, Rebel replied flippantly, “I left it at home. My bad.”

Dragaunus straightened his back and regarded Rebel with a rancorous glower for a moment. Not even a second later, he dove with his claws, ripping mercilessly through the boy’s tee shirt and chest feathers. The former spy cried out as his skin tore, before hunching over in agony. Head hanging, he breathed deeply in and out, the pain overwhelming his already battered body.

His chin raising slightly, his eyes burned with natural brashness underneath his limp bangs. “You can kill me, but that won’t get you what you want.” He spoke in a weak, hollowed gasp.

“Everyone has a breaking point, boy.” The Saurian proclaimed, his malevolent eyes glowing the darkened room. His dark smirk demonized. “It is just a matter of when.”

“I. Will. Never. Break. You’ll have to kill me first…”

By the fire that erupted in Dragaunus’s eyes, Rebel knew the lizard didn’t miss the frail conviction in his voice.

The once predominant overlord of the Saurian Army grinned widely, showing his sharp, icicle teeth—ironically, they were snow white.

Rebel shuddered.

“We shall see, duck; we shall see.”

*^*^*

“Where is he?” Wildwing fumed, pacing about Drake One. He finally stopped, turning bitterly to Canard. “How can he just leave like that and not even call in?!”

Sitting at Drake One, Canard glanced at the screen for what seemed like the four hundred and seventeenth time and shrugged. “It’s only 1:13 A.M. Maybe he lost track of time.”

“It’s been ten hours!”

“Then maybe you should buy him a watch.”

“Maybe I should kill him, and then he won’t need a watch,” Wildwing retorted sourly as he once more began to pace and grumble incoherently.

Canard sighed as he stood and laid a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, stopping the younger mallard. “Hey, look. You have to remember that Rebel isn’t used to people staying up to make sure he comes home. Maybe you should go—”

“No!” Wildwing sighed and buried his head in his hands. Abruptly, he perked up and dashed toward the hanger. “You know what? I’m going out to look for him. Maybe he’s—”

“—twenty-two, Wing!” Canard suddenly exploded. “You have to let the little duckling go! He’s a big boy now! He can watch out for himself!”

“And maybe he’s in trouble and needs me!”

“And maybe he doesn’t give a shit anymore!”

Wildwing whirled to his friend, an incredulous and wretched expression upon his face.

“It’s true, Wing,” Canard eased somberly. “Look, I spent time with these MIAers. They’re not…normal. They lose their emotions, their connection to the world. They’re like shadows of souls, drifting through the universe from one adventure to another, searching for something they can never find. They have no real ties or existence. More times than not, they never integrate back into the mainstream populace. Either they are killed, or they fade away into the underground of the world, which they tried to defeat.”

Sighing deeply, he clasped the shoulder of his blindsided best friend, giving him a good shake. “You have to understand. The kid…he’s one of them. He was lost long ago. When I first found him four years ago, he was there. I saw him. The light in eyes was dulled, pained, blurred, scared, but …there. But now…now, all I see is darkness. The Nosedive we knew, your brother…he’s gone.

“Even though he came back, it’s only out of obligation. He might still love you, but the bond you two shared…he’s not who he used to be. Face it, Wildwing. There is nothing you can do. He’s never coming back.”

“NO!” Wildwing vowed, tearing away from Canard. “He’s. Not. Gone.”

“You do realize that if the kid did care, he would have been home by now.”

“But what if he’s in dang—”

“He’s not.”

“You don’t know that!” Wildwing countered, once more turning toward the hanger.

Canard caught his arm and turned Wildwing around, staring hard into his best friend’s eyes. “You do.”

Wildwing narrowed his eyes toward Canard before they softened, and he looked away. “I don’t care what you say, Canard.” He began gently, tamed, before he met his best friend’s eyes with a small smile. “He’s my brother, and he always will be. He’s in that hard core, stubborn, defensive, brash shell of feathers. He’s there, Canard. He is. You just have to look hard enough.”

The glimmer in Wildwing’s eyes, the certain, promise conviction in his voice—Canard opened his beak—

Their comm. units beeped.

Wildwing hit it instantly. “Reb, where the hell are you?”

Red static flickered on his comm. unit’s screen, and his eyebrows furled. “Rebel, come in. Where are you?”

Canard peeked over his shoulder and gasped. “That’s not static, Wing. Those are energy bonds! The kid’s in trouble!”

“Trace his comm. NOW!” Wildwing ordered, and Canard dashed toward Drake One’s console.

“Reb, come in! Speak to me, baby bro. Where are you?”

Suddenly, faintly, he could hear the sounds of –

“Ahh!”

A sinister chuckle. “I rather enjoy this, but I can see that you are not having such a pleasant time.”

“Dragaunus,” Wildwing growled softly.

“It could all be over now if you would just tell me what I want to know.”

“Die, Draggy,” returned the strained, pain-filled beseech. “Just die.”

A slash!

An shrill, reverberant plea for help, then silence…

“CANARD!”

His best friend whirled from the screen. “I got it!”

But Wildwing didn’t hear him, for he was already racing toward the Aerowing.

*^*^*

There was no present, no past, no future. There was only pain, plucked feathers, shards of skin, and blood…crimson, pouring, flowing blood.

Rebel panted as he lay on his side upon the floor of the Raptor, blood pooled about his abdomen and back, smearing what was left of his tee shirt, jeans, and feathers. It seeped onto his bonded wrists and through the cracks between his fingers.

Deep, gaping, streaming, the gash cut through his stomach, shredded by thick, grating claws, leaving only fragments of cloth and feathers. Skin was nonexistent.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t even blink.

Acute pain throbbed through the wound, into his stomach, as his entire body suddenly was cold. His feathers felt saturated and clammy, while the world spun. Splotch of red, big and bulky—Dragaunus he knew, but it was only out of instinct.

Lethargically, in and out, in and out…his heart thundered in his chest…

Everything to the left and right faded to black…

“Last chance, duck.” Dragaunus? Dragaunus loomed over him. Why did he sound so far away?

“If you want to survive—”

He squinted as the sweat dripped into his eyes. Of course he wanted to survive, but the cost?

“Where. Is. The. KEY!?”

He blinked suddenly, painstakingly opening his beak to retort, but his tongue refused to form the words. Too tired…exhausted…His head clunked to the floor, as he heard the faint jingle of his necklace. It was calming, almost. Wildwing had given it to him.

His brother…

Dragaunus shifted over him, and Rebel noticed the overlord stared pointedly at…

“No…” he moaned helplessly, feebly pressing his legs against the ground in attempt to flee. Heavy and limp, they were of no use.

Dragaunus reached down, his hand closing upon the lavaliere. As he tugged, Rebel’s neck lifted from the ground.

“No,” Rebel begged in a soft, terrified murmur. “Please…you can’t…” Tears dripped from his half-lidded, petrified eyes.

Guffawing sadistically, Dragaunus yanked once, swiftly.

The chain broke.

Rebel’s body crumpled to the floor.

Languished, cold, and defeated, Rebel laid lifelessly in his own blood, his will broken, his body mortified.

Dragaunus roared triumphantly, his dark smirk curling demonically as he raised the shimmering necklace above his head. “You pathetic fool. All your resistance, all your stubborn will, and what did it get you? A dishonorable death, begging at my feet, worthy of the brother of my sworn enemy...”

The overlord’s words drowned out into his breathing as Rebel blinked against the tears. He had failed. He failed his mission, the planet—his planet, his team…and his brother…

I’m sorry, Wildwing…

As the blood leaked from his wound, his breathing slowed; his heart no longer beat as rapidly.

He blinked as he attempted to swallow…God, was it hard…

It hurt, too…his stomach, his back, his arms, his chest…it all seared, burning through his skin, bursting out of his macabre wounds…

He closed his eyes, the world still on edge…and suddenly, he felt it again.

The abyss…

He called to him, clinging to him, pulling him down, and he was unable to break away. There was no help. There was no escape…

A light…it shimmered from Dragaunus’s hand, stealing his attention. Squinting, he recognized the light—gold and silver—the H.O.C.-Key. It cried to him and shattered the darkness...

*FLASH*

*^*^*

Wildwing kicked the doors inward and stormed into Command Room—and slid to a halt. His panicked eyes widened, as his teeth clenched.

His brother, his arms constricted behind his back, surrounded by a pool of his own blood, head leaning backwards, lifeless.

Standing over his contorted body, Dragaunus smirked at the shocked and outraged Mighty Ducks. In his fist dangled Rebel’s necklace, sparkling even in the dim light, and the overlord laughed, satisfied, haughtily, hellishly. “You’re too late, Ducks. I have the Key, and its keeper is dying at my feet. I. HAVE. WON.”

“NOOOOO!” Wildwing screamed madly and rushed toward the overlord, puck gauntlet level in front him.

In a flash of jade materialized three henchman, making an effective barrier between Wildwing and Dragaunus. Wraith struck out with a light spark from his wrinkled hand, which Wildwing ducked. Activating his ice shield, he clashed with Siege, knocking the henchman out his way.

Rolling, Siege regained his footing and brought his blaster to bear. He swung his tail and aimed carelessly at Wildwing as the white duck charged Dragaunus—only to feel something clamp down upon his tail.

Grin growled, face tense, as anger erupted in his usual calm eyes. “You will be brought to judgment.” Spinning the lizard in the air, Grin let go, and Siege crashed into a control panel.

Duke was a second behind Wildwing, his sword already extended, thrusting it down upon Wraith’s staff. Creating a fireball in his hand, Wraith threw it, only for Duke to duck and kick the Saurian in the stomach.

Next to him, Mallory flipped as Chameleon shifted into a Sumo wrestler, missing his punch. Grabbing his stretched arm, she threw him over her shoulder and into Wraith.

Meanwhile, Wildwing punched Dragaunus, ducked a slash, and tackled him to the ground, away from Rebel. “You will pay for what you’ve done to my brother.” He vowed unforgiving. As he lurched for the shimmering artifact, Dragaunus sunk his claws into Wildwing’s flesh. The white duck cried out as he was thrown off the lizard and into a wall.

Cringing, Wildwing gripped the nearby console and pulled himself to his feet. He lightly touched his side, noticing the blood that smeared his fingers. He growled at Dragaunus.

“Your brother is a weakling.” The overlord held up the necklace and smirked darkly. “Without this, he is nothing, and soon, you will join his ranks at my feet, begging for mercy, for I now have the power and means to destroy you.”

A tan fist collided with Dragaunus’s face, sending the overlord staggering.

“Don’t you dare talk about the kid like that!” Canard seethed with rage, eyes narrowed furiously at the overlord.

Wildwing met him, still clutching his side, face worn. “Nice punch.”

Canard shrugged. “Yeah, well, nobody’s puts down our hatchling except us.”

“WILDWING!” Tanya shrieked, panic evident in her voice.

Wildwing whirled toward her, his eyes once more laying upon his suffering brother.

Tanya pressed both her stained red hands down upon a rather large wound across his stomach. “I’m losing him!”

No…Wildwing raced toward his little brother, even though it seemed like an eternity, as his mind reeled desperately. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose you again, Nosedive.

I won’t.

A hand clamped down upon his shoulder, wrenching him backward and knocking him against a wall. It clasped about his throat and squeezed.

Tightly.

Constricting.

Cutting off his air.

He gasped, his legs thrashing against nothing as Dragaunus chortled. “I’ve waited seven years for this. Seven long, vexatious, exasperating years…all because of you.”

His lungs burned from lack of oxygen as he gasped, attaining no air.

“Oh, Wildwing, will I enjoy killing you—as I enjoyed killing your deplorable little brother.”

Rebel…

His eyes caught his brother—his unmoving, silent, still brother—

NOSEDIVE!

“You can see it,” Dragaunus continued relentlessly, his voice low and grating, “can’t you? You can see the order, my order, and Earth under it. You can see your precious team in chains, can’t you, their wills shattered and they bodies marred, standing above my slaves, their necks encircled by nooses—”

Wildwing gagged hoarsely.

“Of course,” Dragaunus’s tone lightened humorlessly, “you should be grateful to me, since your brother will not be there to see you beg.”

His eyes narrowed, as Wildwing finally choked out, “Bite… me…Barney.”

Wildwing kicked outward, connecting directly with Dragaunus’s abdomen, and the hold upon him lessened. With a punch directly into the overlord’s snout, Wildwing fell to his feet and delivered a roundhouse kick to Dragaunus’s face. As the overlord crumpled to the floor, Wildwing reclaimed the Key from his hand—

A magnificent light, shimmering gold and silver, exploded through the room!

Still.

Silent.

Ethereal.

Wet.

Chilly, colder than Earth, but just the right temperature.

He blinked.

At first, it was too bright—the daystar. A vibrant yellow and orange, it flooded his eyes. Pulling himself haggardly into a sitting position, Wildwing wasn’t restricted by his body armor. He put his hand above his eyebrows until finally his eyes adjusted.

Glancing down, he noticed his normal clothing, a simply tee-shirt with a teal jacket and a pair of denim jeans. He lightly touched his side. His fingers were clean. His wound was—gone?

Lifting his head, he gasped at his landing point—only to cough uncontrollably, some of aftereffects of his fight with Dragaunus showing. Rubbing his neck softly, he pushed himself to his feet and surveyed his surroundings.

The Raptor’s Command Room was gone, replaced by empty streets, void of any living thing. The white buildings, however, were so familiar and comforting. Mr. Duckese’s Corner Pizzeria, Mac’s Hockey Den, the Shack Known As Trent’s Diner, the walls of DuCaine Plaza rising over the left side row of buildings—he was home.

But how was that possible?

And where was everyone?

And where was his team—his brother?!

Faintly, he heard the sliding of a puck, the shushing of skates against ice, the frozen water obviously scraped to a fine snow, no longer freshly smoothed.

Gliding—When did he put on skates?—he crossed his left leg over his right as he turned the bend, following the noise. As it got louder, he realized where he was headed. By the back of Mr. Duckese’s, through the slice in the metal fence, pass the loading dock, and turn—their secret place.

It was different from the last time he saw it. After returning from Earth, he had fled here once, devastated from his brother’s supposed death. He remembered bitterly the blasted garage doors and burned garbage cans. Now, though, to the left and right were the same garage doors, an immaculate white, never touched by a Saurian laser, while directly in front of him was a makeshift goal—two garbage cans, dented, yet still intact.

Still, that wasn’t really what caught his breath, made his body numb, tugged at his heart. His eyes focused on the shaggy-blonde youth, five years his younger, who skated about the alley, oblivious to the fact that someone watched him. He sported denim jeans that ran to his black skates, and—to Wildwing’s surprise and shocked mirth—a teal jersey, faded from years of over-wearing, with maroon and silver stripes along the wrists and waist. Plastered on the front of the jersey was a golden mask with dueling lightning bolts in the shape of sticks. Sown on the back was the name “Featherburn.”

Wildwing found a ghost of smug smile enveloping his face. The jersey was his from DuCaine Secondary School and Nosedive’s favorite, even though it was easily two sizes too big for the smaller mallard. He remembered fondly his team winning the championship, the first time in sixty years, and tugging the jersey over his baby brother’s head. Nosedive beamed proudly with it, totting it around school for over a month until their mother finally wrestled it off the younger Featherburn to wash it.

Wildwing’s face fell slightly, as reality seeped into his memory. It seemed like yesterday and at the time, a lifetime ago. What happened to them?

He focused upon his brother, skating seemingly carelessly backwards about the puck before flipping on his blades and grabbing the vulcanized rubber with his stick’s blade. Tearing toward the goal, he hit the puck three times with his stick before shooting, the puck ringing off the left garbage can.

The blonde skated to a stop, his shoulders slouching as he tightened the stick in his hands until it squealed in protest.

Wildwing watched him forlornly before pushing off his left skate and gliding toward the younger duck.

The boy didn’t turn to him, only accused rigidly, “You came.”

Wildwing shished to a halt, a few necessary inches from him. “You doubted I would?”

“No.”

Wildwing looked about the alley, taking it all in. “Where? How?”

Rebel sighed heavily, as if letting out tons of pressure. “This is the alley outside of—”

“No, no, no…I know where we are, just how? And why?”

“The Key did it,” Rebel explained simply.

“Oh.” That answered his question. “Why?”

Shrugging, Rebel didn’t meet Wildwing’s concern gaze. Softly, in a reluctant whisper, he confessed, “It’s my special place. You know, where people go when world gangs up on them. The—they just go there, and everything’s okay.”

Wildwing smiled affectionately at his brother. “And you picked here?”

A noncommittally shrug. “Yeah, well, this is where I felt comfortable, safe. Where we used meet Canard, play hockey—” His voice faltered at the end, and he confided, “This is where we used to hang together, Wing.”

A somber silence weighted between them.

His tone was so stellar, so grim, so grave, “I think I’m dying, Wing.”

No…no… “D—Dive.” He fought the tears that blinked in his frightened eyes and the panic that rose in his chest. He cautiously reached out for his brother, but stopped a few inches from Rebel’s shoulder. Suddenly, his hand launched forward and clutched the younger’s shoulder, confirming his presence.

Rebel smirked and squeezed Wildwing’s hand before looking up, his eyes doleful. “I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

“No!” Wildwing protested, gripping both his brother’s shoulder and turning him fast. “I will not lose you. I won’t. Do you hear me?! I already lost you once. I won’t again. I refuse to. You fight this!” He commanded, his eyes glistening with tears.

“You make it sound so easy…” Rebel replied hopelessly.

“You listen to me, little brother.” He shook his brother hard. “I love you. You are too precious to me for you to just leave! I won’t accept this! I didn’t before, and I sure as hell won’t now! You’re the only—”

“STOP!” Rebel exploded, ripping out of Wildwing’s grasp. “Don’t you realize that I’m not worth it? Don’t you understand that?”

“What are you talking about?” Wildwing demanded, panicked. “Nosedive, you’re the most important person to me! You’re—”

“Why?” Rebel asked softly.

Wildwing bent down even lower to stare into his brother’s wavering eyes. “What?”

“Why? Why am I the most important person to you? Because I’m your baby brother?! Because I’m this innocent little teenager that needs protecting?! Because I can’t take care of myself?! Why, damnit?!” He shunned away, breathing heavily, his eyes closing solemnly. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Wha…” Wildwing tried to meet his brother’s gaze, but Rebel kept his eyes shut. “What are you talking about, Dive?”

Tears stained Rebel’s cheeks as they trickled from his eyes. He met Wildwing’s gaze, dismayed and horribly troubled. “I—I lied to you.”

Wildwing gripped his shoulders harder, tightly, warmly. “I know.”

Rebel cocked his head to the side as his eyes darted to and fro—scared. “Huh?”

Wildwing’s eyes softened as a slight, poignant smile brushed his beak. “This is about you being an assassin, isn’t it?”

Rebel stared at Wildwing, expression neutral, before collapsing into Wildwing’s awaiting arms. Gently placing him on the ground, Wildwing rubbed his brother’s back soothingly as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y—You knew?” Rebel looked completely stunned.

Once making sure his weary brother could sit upright, Wildwing sat down in front of Rebel, cross-legged. He sighed deeply. “Yeah, well, I figured that you lied to me when you said you never killed, considering you were a spy for five years. Doesn’t your job description read ‘must be able to kill’?”

Rebel nodded and sniffled, wiping his beak with his sleeve.

“And, of course, Canard told me how you killed Chris.”

“He was awake for that?” Rebel perked up, his face worn and his eyes frantic.

Wildwing smiled sadly. “Dazed, exhausted, out of it, yeah, but conscious enough to see you shoot Chris three times in the chest.”

Rebel fiddled, ashamed, with his jersey’s bottom, silent except for more sniffling. Tears dripped onto the ice.

Tenderly, Wildwing wrapped his arms about his brother’s shoulders and squeezed tightly as Rebel clutched the sides of his shirt and bowed his head. His face turned inward, and the boy sobbed into his older brother’s chest.

And suddenly, by the will of the H.O.C.-Key or just brotherly love, Wildwing saw it, felt it, lived it.

He remembered losing his brother, Hank telling him he was the only survivor of the crash. He cried out as he remembered the five years he was gone and the pain that settled in his chest, as he lived the endless nights of crying himself to sleep and the lingering days he wandered aimlessly through life, searching for something, anything to end the pain. He remembered his first kill and the light fading from the man’s wide and frightened eyes. He remembered lighting his first cigarette, a relaxing feeling washing through his body as he stood in front of his old home, unable to enter. He remembered the smooth, lacy texture and rose smell of Trish’s feathers and not being…in pain for the first time in two years. He remembered the anniversary of the crash every year and going to visit his brother—at the grave. He remembered Chris making him promise to never lose himself, and he remembered finding O’Neil’s frail body, breathing haggardly. He remembered seeing Canard, the older duck so excited to have found him, telling him that everything was going to be all right—then never coming back. He remember fleeing the planet the night Hank told him Canard was killed—he remembered returning to his brother’s grave then and after every mission, every time the void was filled momentarily, every time he killed, the callous night echoing with demented shrieks as the pain seared uncontrollably, as nothing seemed to stop it. He felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the abyss…unable to break away, unable to rise above the darkness as it clawed at him…

He felt Nosedive’s soul deteriorating.

Clenching his teeth, his eyes dull and open, Wildwing felt the abyss still, and he refused to let his brother go. “It’s okay…” He soothed, trailing his fingers warmly through his brother’s short hair. “Shh…It’s okay. I’m here, and everything’s okay, bro. Everything’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you…I’ve got you…”

A muffled cry so low Wildwing missed it. Looking down at his brother, he finally saw a dark, misty tentacle wrapped about Nosedive’s ankle.

“What was that, baby bro?”

And for the first time since they were reunited, Nosedive looked up at him, his eyes so innocent, so frightened and trembling—and in the oversized jersey, he looked like his old self. Wildwing couldn’t help but smile lovingly.

“Help me…please…”

“It won’t let it get you. I won’t let it, Nosedive. I promise you that.” Wildwing swore. Touching the tentacle, his hand passed through the restraint, not even blurring the mist.

Nosedive’s eyes screamed silently as he whispered, terrified, “I…I don’t know who I am anymore, Wildwing. Everything’s so…confusing…and dark. I—I can’t break away from it. I still feel it…pulling me farther…”

“It’s no match for us, Nosedive. Our love is stronger than it. Fight it, baby bro.” Wildwing clutched his brother—and felt the coldness of his skin.

Another tentacle crept about Nosedive’s right ankle.

“I—…I’m…sorry…”

“Dive—” He pulled away slight, still holding his brother, and gasped when he saw the icy eyes.

“I—I lied to you, and I killed. Wildwing,” Nosedive gripped the front of his brother’s shirt as he pleaded, “Wing, how do I come back from this? Please, tell me! How? I’m…I’m a—a murderer.” By the tone in his voice, it sounded as if he recognized it for the first time. “I don’t deserve a second chance! I don’t deserve this!”

Suddenly, the black tentacles jerked, ripping Nosedive from Wildwing’s secure embrace and wrenching him backwards toward a void of blackness. Circular and all-consuming, it spun inward, beckoning the lost into it. Nosedive clawed the ice with arched fingers, his eyes wide and frightened as he stared at the darkness. He cried out, a horrifying scream that muffled to nothing as the darkness slapped a tentacle into his beak. He thrashed and beseeched toward Wildwing silently—

Two strong arms clamed down upon his forearms, tugging him away from the darkness. “NO! I’ve got you!”

Nosedive stared desperately into the black void, his golden hair blowing about his wild eyes, the binds waving in the wind.

“Nosedive, look at me!”

The binds…they pulled him closer…

“Damnit, I’m not going losing you, so look at me! LOOK AT ME!” Wildwing screamed, his blades digging into the ice, yet still the void pulled them closer to its darkness.

His brother’s head jerked toward him, his eyes lost and faded.

His arms shaking and strained as he pulled furiously to keep Nosedive from the void, Wildwing growled, “I don’t care if you don’t know who you are or that you’re lost! And I don’t care if you think you’re a murderer.

“I know who you are.

“You are my little brother, my family, my best friend, my lifeline!” With the last word, he heaved backward, briefly tugging his brother a few inches farther from the black hole. “When I thought you were dead, I couldn’t go on! I was lost, too, okay? And do you know how I got through it? I didn’t deal with it. I just pushed it all away, the pain, the memories…you. When I was finally forced to face your absence, I…I cracked, and I saw everything—our life together, our history—and I fled to your grave, where I screamed at you for leaving me. It was there I learned you weren’t dead, and suddenly, life wasn’t so horrible and overbearing. I could deal. I could live, knowing that you were alive, somewhere, and that one day we would be together.

“I’ll never forgot the day the Aerowing, Nosedive, because it forced me to live life without you. While my time thinking you were dead was only a fraction of what you went through, I found out just how cruel, dark, and lonely this world is without you.

“I learned that no matter how much I valued you before and how much I thought I loved you…God, Dive, it was only a small portion of what I truly feel for you.

“You are the most important to me, not because you are innocent and need me but because I need you.

“You are the closest person to me.

“You know me better than anyone ever has or ever will, and I’ll be damned if it’s not vice versa.

“But no one can believe their family is dead, believe that everyone they ever loved is gone, and come out of the ordeal unscathed. It isn’t possible.

“You were manipulated, deceived, hell, pushed to become what you were. I know that you would have put your life on the line hundreds of times before ever putting someone else in danger. What happened, what you were, isn’t you.”

The void reclaimed the lost ground.

Nosedive’s eyes softened as the tentacle uncoiled from his beak to grasp his neck. “Wildwing…that doesn’t change what I did.”

“God, Dive! You were scared! You were alone! You didn’t know what to do!” He grunted, strained, as he pulled with soul-wrenching desperation, yet his brother’s feet dangled at the edge of the darkness. He was going to lose Nosedive! “You followed those whom you thought were your friends, and you trusted them to help you. They took advantage of that trust and abused it, getting you to do whatever they wanted.”

Nosedive stared at him, his beak gaping. “N—no! I did what I wanted. I—I always had a choice…”

“You call being brainwashed a choice?!” Wildwing grated, feeling sick. He didn’t want to bring it up, but… “I know what Chris did you, Dive!”

Helplessly, “Wha...”

“I met Chris before you fought him! He gloated, told me how he gave you initiatives, and how he controlled you.” Wildwing hated himself suddenly. “He told how you used to depend on him. His word became fact in your heart, and he knew that was your weakness. You follow your heart blindly, Nosedive, believing it to always be true, and he exploited that truth.” Wildwing scowled furiously and spat, “You were just his tool, someone to play with. He told me how he used to beat you during training sessions just to see how far he could push you before you …broke. It was just game to him, Nosedive. A horrid, disgusting game.”

Nosedive’s eyes began to burn a radiant azure, yet his voice was weak. “He told you that?”

“Yes.”

Breathing deeply, Nosedive shut his eyes, overwhelmed.

Groaning, Wildwing winced as his hands finally slid to his brother’s. He squeezed tightly out of pure, raw necessity. “We can’t change the past. I know that. I would give anything at this moment to change what happened to you…to stop them…to stop you…to be there for you, but I can’t. No one can. All we have control over is the future and the decisions we make. And I will be there for you, Nosedive.”

Nosedive’s knees disappeared into the void.

Nosedive looked at him, beseechingly. “What if you’re not?”

“Huh?!”

"What if you’re not there?” With a shiver, he spouted, “I—I’m scared, big bro. I’m afraid that if things go back to the way they were—”

His waist vanished from sight.

“ ‘We’ll be split again, so why even get close?!’ That’s why you were keeping your distance?!”

Nosedive whined as fit of shivers took his body.

“I can’t promise we won’t be, Dive,” Cold sweat saturated Wildwing’s hands, making them slip father, as his heart thundered in his chest, “but I know that you are worth the risk of being hurt. And I know that I can’t live without you in my life.” He added with a bow of his head and a glimmer in his eyes, “And you know, something tells me you can’t live without me, either.”

The void claimed Nosedive’s chest.

Nosedive stared into his brother’s eyes, tears reflecting in the light of the necklace. Softly, truthfully, he resigned, “Let go…”

Wildwing, skates dragging along the ice, clutched his brother’s hands harder, blood staining his finger tips, as he shook his head indignantly. “Never. We go together!”

“You’ll die, too!”

“Then so be it!”

Nosedive’s face eased as a small smile brushed his beak, and his golden crown disappeared into the void. “I missed you, Wildwing, and… Sincerely, lovingly, he added, “I love you, big bro.”

Wildwing smiled back affectionately. “I love you, too, baby bro.”

And as they were pulled in, light engulfed the alley!

*^*^*

Air burst in from his beak.

His chest heaved upward, then collapsed.

Breathe.

He had to breathe.

Just breathe.

He opened his eyes—intense light!

He blinked furiously, as his vision still blurred.

“It’s okay.” The voice soothed, trailing fingers warmly through his hair.

“I’ve got you.”

That voice again…

“I’ve got you, baby bro.”

Wearily stuttered, “Wil…Wild…wing…?”

“You thought someone different?”

A hand clasped his, and Nosedive attempted to sit up. He hissed and cringed as pain flourished in his battered body.

“Don’t move,” Wildwing murmured, once more running a hand through his blonde hair. “You’re okay. You’re—you’re going to be just fine.” *Sniffle*

“You’re…*gasp* crying…”

A piqued reply, “NO!”

“Softie…” A blissful smile relaxed upon his beak as Nosedive laid back on Wildwing’s thighs. His eyes fluttering open, he saw Wildwing’s worried face, upside down from his point of view, tears evident in his reassuring eyes. “Liar...”

“That makes two of us.”

“Ouch…”

Shifting on the floor, trying to get out of pain, another head appeared in his vision. Blonde hair spiking from her headband, Tanya. “Keep still or else I’m tying you down, wounds or no wounds.” However, the threat was not at all menacing with the faltering voice and tears of relief.

Nosedive managed a smile. “Sure *wheeze* Taunny. Whatever you say…” His eyes focusing on his brother again, he panted, “I *huff* don’t feel *huff* the darkness…”

Wildwing smirked and wiped the tears from his eyes. “If you just would have brought a flashlight five years ago, then maybe none of this would ever have happened.”

Suddenly, with an acute gasp of air, Nosedive sunk to the floor. “The Key…”

Dangling from Wildwing’s fingers, the lavaliere shimmered brilliantly against the Migrator’s interior lights. Letting go of Nosedive’s hand for a mere second, Wildwing lifted his little brother’s head carefully and slipped the necklace onto its rightful keeper.

It shimmered golden for a moment before settling into its normal silver.

Feeling its coldness once more upon his skin, Nosedive smiled softly.

As he slipped into healing sleep, he whispered wistfully, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Knowing me…”

*^*^*

The Pond was silent as Nosedive roamed the hallways at 12:53 A.M. His face was stained from hours of crying and distress. His eyes were clouded with captive fear and locked emotions. His face twisted with turmoil.

As if in a trance, he mechanically put his hand to his lavaliere about his neck, and in a burst of silver and gold, the H.O.C.-Key appeared in his hands. Entering into the Main Room, he immediately went to the DVD player. The Blockbuster case was situated on top of it, and Nosedive doubted that the Ducks had gotten to finish the movie. Opening the case, he rolled his eyes. Half what he expected—empty. Grabbing the remote left on the sofa, he first pressed on the TV, then the DVD player.

A moment of darkness exploded with the 1997 playoffs and “Headstrong.” A tiny, sad smile immediately formed on his face as his body tingled. He watched as he avoided a bone-crunching check and skated furiously toward the net. Pulling back his stick, he followed through—GOAL! The crowd jumped to its feet! Nosedive bypassed his celebrating teammates and tore down the ice toward the anxious person waiting on the other side. He launched himself into Wildwing’s reaching arms, and the brothers crashed to the ice. Game Seven of the Western Conference was theirs! They were going to the Stanley Cup Finals!

Wildwing appeared on the camera a second later, arm around Nosedive’s shoulders, the younger gleaming.

“Well, this win couldn’t have been without my baby brother. He has a way with the puck…”

A whoosh sounded behind the couch, and Nosedive didn’t need to look to know who was there. The familiar and welcome white mallard sunk down next to Nosedive on the couch and didn’t even look over. He yawned. “Phantasm?”

Nosedive shrugged absently as he rubbed the H.O.C.-Key with his thumb, the artifact shimmering from gold to white in sync with his necklace. “Memories…that’s all.”

“Ah.”

They watched the movie in silence for a few moments, until Nosedive’s passive exterior crumpled to sniffles. Slowly, Wildwing wrapped his arm about his little brother’s shoulders and beckoned the shivering being into his arms.

Nosedive nuzzled against Wildwing’s chest as the older brother tenderly trailed his fingers through his short blonde hair, and his sharp cries depreciated to soft whimpers.

The crowd roared on the TV, and both Featherburns turned.

Wildwing smiled fondly down at his little brother and brought the Stanley Cup down from over his head. Hesitantly, Nosedive reached out for Hockey’s Holy Grail, meeting Wildwing halfway.

Grasping the trophy in his hands, the teen wobbled on his skates briefly before regaining his footing and thrusting the Stanley Cup into the air, whooping.

On the couch, Wildwing dropped his beak onto Nosedive’s head and sighed contently. “That was a good game, wasn’t it?”

Nosedive agreed with a tiny, timid nod.

As they watched the game, Nosedive gradually sunk against him, and within a few minutes, the boy’s breathing evened. Eyes closed lightly, his golden hair ruffled ever so slightly, Nosedive seemed at peace.

And Wildwing smiled.

Clicking off the TV via remote, Wildwing wrapped his arms around his sleeping brother and nuzzled his cheek. Sighing, he leaned back on the couch cushions. Nosedive followed, curling naturally against his chest.

Slowly rubbing a gentle hand up and down his brother’s arm feathers, Wildwing was alarmed by gashes still on his brother’s skin. Easing the boy’s sleeve up, he gasped at the slashed tattoo that had once marked Nosedive a member of the Independent Thirty. The stick and fist crossing no longer decorated his arm, but was ripped through by Dragaunus’s claw marks.

Rebel’s markings were gone…and Wildwing closed his eyes with a satisfied grin.

*Sizzle*

*Sizzzzle*

*SIZZZZLE*

Wildwing cracked an annoyed eye open half-way.

The Key, held tightly in Nosedive’s hand, crackled a luminous gold glow on the white holder.

Attention spurred, Wildwing gently pulled the artifact his brother’s limp fingers and read the name, imprinted in cursive, shimmering gold.

“Draven DuCaine.”

A glimmer caught his attention at the curve of the handle, and he slowly rotated it.

There, in radiant gold read, “Nosedive Featherburn.”

*^*^*

Nosedive’s eyes, focused and resolute, didn’t waver as he stared at the trash can. Flames crackled in the metal and danced on the edge, pleading to escape. The wind lazed about him, tussling his short, blonde hair playfully.

Gripped tensely in the boy’s hand was a maroon jersey, and Nosedive regarded it for a moment.

And in that moment, he saw it all once more as it replayed unforgettably in his hands. He was alone. He was a killer. He was spy, working for the wrong side. Deceived, played, someone’s toy. He returned to his team, only to find loneliness and misunderstanding, to ultimately kill his master—and to discover forgiveness.

But was he redeemed?

He didn’t know.

He wouldn’t know until he was judged.

But he was back on the side of good, with his friends, his family, his brother…

He wouldn’t sway again.

The lines were no longer blurred, and he wondered how they ever were.

Squeezing shut his eyes, he tightened his seize on the jersey, then with a furious cry, chucked the jersey madly into blaze.

The flames erupted out of the can, and Nosedive took a half-step back.

A moment later, the jersey was devoured by the blaze, and the fire crept back into its confinement.

The former spy walked back to the can and stared down at the burning cloth.

He watched, hard-faced, the jersey burn…

“Drakeson” crinkled until the flames engulfed it, and the name vanished.

It was over.

It was finally over.

He pivoted on his heel and raised his chin—halting abruptly.

There stood Canard in the doorway.

A pensive, scrutinizing glare scrunched the tan duck’s face as his eyes narrowed

and boring into the shocked younger mallard’s.

Silence.

Slowly, Canard’s beak broke into a wide smile as he closed the distanced between them. Drawing the startled Nosedive into a swift hug, he whispered into the twenty-two-year-old’s ear, “Hey, kid.”

Nosedive returned the embrace with a lopsided grin. “Hey, Canard.”

*^*^*

The overzealous crowd, anxious for the start of the Ducks’ third season, screamed and cheered, their roar resounding in the Mighty Ducks locker room. With only five minutes to go before the commencement of opening night festivities, the team readied themselves in silence. Canard finished taping the end of his stick, while Mallory situated her helmet upon her head. Grin, all ready changed, sat on the bench in between the lockers, “centering himself” for the game ahead. Duke picked out his two sticks for the game from the plethora of equipment leaning against the back wall as Tanya pulled on her gloves.

Nosedive finished tying his laces before pulling his head through his shoulder and chest pads and clipping the straps. Sighing, he ruffled his hair and pulled his jersey from the locker. He smiled at the name on the back—“N. Featherburn.”

“You know,” Wildwing, completely dressed for the game, plopped onto the bench next to Nosedive and tussled the boy’s hair, “I wonder how our fans are going to take your short hair.”

“Oh, they’re probably be heartbroken.” He rumpled it lightly and whimpered, “I know I was.”

“It’ll grow back soon enough…” Wildwing followed his little brother’s rapt gaze and smiled softly. “You haven’t made up with Mallory yet, have you?”

Nosedive blinked, embarrassed, and adverted his eyes to his jersey. “Oh, she’s just playing hard to get.”

“In order words, no.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Nosedive rolled his eyes and tugged his jersey over his head. “Please tell me you did not just say, ‘Make me.’ ”

Wildwing laughed at the annoyed look on his brother’s face. “Talk to her.”

“That’s your brotherly-type advice?”

“No, that’s my boyfriend-type advice.”

Nosedive snorted. “Yeah, right, Casey. I’ve seen you strike out. I’m not taking your advice.”

“Fine,” Wildwing shrugged and placed the white Mask on his face. “Do what you want, little bro, but if you never marry your soul mate, don’t complain to me.”

Slapping his dumbfounded brother on the back, Wildwing pushed off the bench and headed toward the team.

Nosedive stared at his locker as Wildwing’s words sunk in. One by one, the Ducks filed out of the locker room—then it hit him like a Al McInnis slapped puck.

“Soul mate?!”

*^*^*

The crowd’s cheers erupted in the arena, overpowering the Ducks as they waited in the hallway. As the light focused upon the tunnel, the roar increased, which the team thought was impossible.

The fans were more hyped now then they were when the Ducks won the Stanley Cup six years ago.

“And now, welcome back to Earth, your Anaheim Mighty Ducks.” The announcer shrilled.

“In goal, number zero-zero, captain Wildwing Featherburn.”

Skating out of the tunnel, Wildwing waved slightly at the crowd as they chanted, “Ducks Rock!” Shishing to a stop at center ice, Wildwing shifted his weight between his skates.

“On defense, number one, Grin Backcheck!”

The monolithic player skated out serenely and stopped next to Wildwing. “They are have embraced us with their souls,” he commented.

The captain nodded in agreement. Yup. Sure.

“Center, number thirteen, Duke L’Orange.” The announcer dragged Duke’s last name, and many women in the arena sighed longingly.

Duke smirked as he pranced upon the ice and jerked his eyebrows up. “I missed Earth.”

“Right wing, number fifteen, Mallory McMallard!”

Skating furiously out of the tunnel, she stopped abruptly at the redline, her skates showering Duke with ice.

“Hey, there’s no snow in Anaheim, sweetheart, so please don’t make any.”

“Well, then don’t make me freeze your—”

“Hey, hey, hey Wildwing, can we switch places? Mallory’s still mad at your brother!”

“On defense, number twenty-three, Tanya Flockheart!”

The blonde glided onto the ice and gracefully stopped next to Mallory. Glancing once at the fuming irate redhead, she skated two strides away.

“Forward, number thirty, Canard Bronzeplume!”

Leaping out onto the ice, Canard soaked up the cheers of the crowd, a smile enveloping his face. He stopped next to Tanya and whispered a question, nodding to the irritated Mallory. She rolled her eyes, and he promptly closed his beak. No one messed with Mallory, except…

Nosedive ducked his head as he exited the locker room and leaned against the tunnel wall. Breathing deeply, he shivered suddenly, his body pulsing with anxious gaiety. Oh, it felt good to be back.

“And finally, welcome back left wing, number thirty-three, Nosedive Featherburn!”

Nosedive burst onto the ice, arms flung out and upward, basting in all the clamor. Smiling audaciously, he whirled about his skates, drawing a grin from almost every duck. Spinning to a stop in front of frowning redhead, he smirked. “You’re beautiful.”

She moved to slap again, but he caught her hand and leaned forward, kissing her passionately on the beak. Her eyes went wide, then she sunk into his embrace. Suddenly, she pulled away. “Oh, like that just makes up for all your—”

“I cared so much that I couldn’t be me without my family, without my brother, without you.

“I love you, Mallory McMallard.” He smiled cockily.

She smiled back as she sighed, relieved. “That’s not going to work all the time, mister. You just can’t come in here, tell me what I want to hear, and expect me to just forgive you.”
“Yeah,” he replied tactfully, cupping her beak, “I know, but eventually, I figure I’ll be calling you Mrs. Featherburn, so then I guess it won’t have to.” He shrugged, leaning back down to her. “Or at least I’ll know to buy flowers by then.”

*^*^*

“And our top play of the day comes out of Anaheim, California,” Linda Cohn announced on Sportscenter as Nosedive and Mallory appeared on the TV screen, kissing. “Look at that action on the ice. It’s certainly the most action anyone has seen in hockey this year…”

In the Main Room Nosedive crossed his arms and slumped down on the couch as the Mighty Ducks, save he and Mallory, cracked up.

“It’s not that funny!” He spurted, reaching into his pocket.

Mallory rolled her eyes as she sat back in her recliner. “I’m going to hurt you for that,” she threatened her boyfriend. “We couldn’t have made up before or after the game. No, you have do it during the game—in front of twenty thousand people and a TV crew!”

“Ah, I’m a hopeless romantic.”

Wildwing slapped him on the back. “Well, that certainly wasn’t talking, baby bro.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up before? Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Aw, young love. Isn’t it beautiful?” Duke laughed as he leaned closer to Mallory. “Hey, hey, Mal, was there any—OW!”

Tanya smirked as Duke rubbed the back of his head. “Want to still ask that question, huh?”

Canard, sitting next to Nosedive, tasseled the boy’s hair. “Aw, our little hatchling is growing up.”

“That’s it!” Nosedive confirmed the pack in his pocket and stepped on the couch to climb over the spine. “I’m going outside to let you guys—”

Wildwing grabbed the waistband of his brother’s jeans and wrenched him backwards. Nosedive yelped as he tumbled onto the couch cushion.

Putting out his hand, Wildwing furled his fingers upward. “Hand them over.”

An innocent expression twisted onto Nosedive’s face as he pushed his bangs out of his eyes. “What?”

“Nosedive.” Oh, that tone. Well, in that case…

“What, Wing?” Maybe it would work. It had been five years since he last tried it...

Nope. Face determined and hard, Wildwing immediately stuck his hand in Nosedive’s jean pocket, causing his little brother to squirm and squawk in protest. Pulling out his hand, he held a box of Marlboro Reds.

“Nothing, huh?”

“Oh,” Nosedive grinned uncomfortably, “you meant those. Yeah, ha ha…They’re Mallory’s.”

“WHAT?!” Mallory protested.

Tossing them pass Nosedive, who feebly tried to catch them and missed, Wildwing nodded to his best friend. “Canard, burn them, will you?”

“Can I be with you when you do?” Nosedive asked urgently.

“You’re quitting, Nosedive,” Wildwing stated as fact. “They’ll kill you.”

“Only if you inhale.”

“Nosedive—”

“What?! I’ve been addicted for four years and…Hold on.” Counting on his hand, he nodded with every finger he put up. “Four months,” he added triumphantly.

“And that’s something to be proud of?” Tanya chuckled.

“Well, it’s something to at least acknowledge. I mean, come on! You can’t expect me to just give up cold turkey!”

“Nope,” Wildwing agreed. “I expect you to give them up cold duck—at least until tomorrow. Then we’ll go get nicotine patches and—”

“What?! Are you insane? I’m not wearing any patches, and you expect me to go through the night without one cigarette!? I haven’t smoked one in five hours! I’m dying here!”

Wildwing reached for Nosedive when his little brother dove for his cigarettes in Canard’s hand. Canard leaped from the couch, as Wildwing fell upon Nosedive, the older brother effectively constricting the younger one.

“HA! HA! Want these?” Canard taunted, dangling the box in front of Nosedive’s irritate face.

“Canard!” Wildwing scowled and fiercely wrapped his arm around Nosedive’s squirming torso. “Go! Burn them! Wet them! Do something!” He strained as Nosedive thrashed, his necklace smacking into the Mask hanging from Wildwing’s waist—

A bright flash of gold and silver engulfed the room!

A moment later, the light faded, and the Mighty Ducks glared— flabbergasted.

In the middle of the room stood a duck that mirrored Wildwing utterly, dressed in black leather pants and over shirt with a teal undershirt. In his arms laid a bedraggled and lifeless Nosedive, naked from the waist up. Deep, gouging lacerations carved into the wincing boy’s chest, expelling life force, as his lungs heaved up and down laboriously, his eyes squeezed shut in sheer pain.

Wildwing tightly gripped his brother’s shoulders as the white mallard beseeched him.

“Help me…please.”

The End