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Storm Hawks - It Starts With the Beginning

Summary: Every story has a beginning. Five kids met, made friends, made enemies...and became young legends... Genfic

Chapter Word Count: 1833

Disclaimer: We all know I don't own Storm Hawks – I just have way too much fun playing with the characters.

Warning: Rated T for Teen for safety – so I can do whatever I want with this story without having to lose readers. If you've never read another of my stories, know now that I write as I go, so plots are always a surprise, even to me! It also means I might go back and change something. If I do, I will let you know! And who doesn't love reviews...lol...so please do so for me!


Prologue


Outside the air was filled with screams. He curled into as small a ball as he could, hugging his arms around himself. Even if he had wanted to he couldn't have drowned out the sounds of the screams.

But he didn't want to.

A huge crashing noise broke through all his senses, and dust and plaster began to rain down on him. He tucked himself in tighter. Something hard, heavy and sharp slammed into his side and he yelped in pain.

"Aerrow!"

His head jerked up when he heard the woman's voice. He couldn't see anything but falling dust and darkness. A huge chunk of wall had fallen right in front of him, but he didn't think to be grateful that it had just missed him. Rafters too had fallen around him in jagged rows, some smoldering and some totally charred.

Fighting the burning pain in his side, he started to push himself up onto his feet.

"Stay here Aerrow, you hear me? Do not leave the basement for anything. You understand me Aerrow?"

He fell back into his protective ball. Picking his head up, he quickly glanced about him. The basement had become little more than a trench – the remains of his home scattered around and enclosing him. He could see a chunk of the night sky between two sheets of metal and all the dust still settling.

He suddenly heard something shift in the debris, and his whole body jerked into alert. He skidded backwards on his rear, reaching behind him and feeling his hand close around something cold and metallic. He brought the pipe in to his chest, all his senses trained on finding the source of the noise.

A rafter suddenly fell to the side, and his father was revealed standing there before him.

"Dad!" he yelled, leaping up and running to the hunched figure.

"Aerrow! Quiet!" his father hissed, throwing frantic glances around him. Aerrow silenced, but didn't release his grip on the older man's waist.

"Dad – what's happening?"

But instead of answering, his father pushed him down to the ground, and crouched before him.

"Aerrow, listen very carefully." He could only just hear his father over the screams and crashes all around them. "No matter what, no matter what you hear, what you think, you mustn't open your eyes. You hear me?"

The young boy blinked at him in confusion. His father gripped his shoulders and gave them an urgent shake.

"Aerrow! Do you understand?"

The boy nodded silently, and his father slipped his large hand around his own smaller one.

"Now, Aerrow. Shut them now."

Aerrow complied, and after a small delay, he felt himself being dragged up onto his feet. And then they were moving. His short legs worked harder than they ever had before. His father's long stride frequently pulled him right off the earth, his only lifeline being the tight grip on his hand.

They shot in a generally forwards direction – but they seemed to be dodging something. Aerrow was tugged from side to side as his father swapped direction rapidly, weaving around and through something Aerrow couldn't see. He was confused and curious, but honored his father's command and kept his eyes pressed shut.

Screams and shouts echoed around him. Women and children shrieked, and men yelled in anger and in pain. Aerrow had to clench his eyes to overcome the temptation to look.

On his right he could feel a scorching heat, and as they continued on the heat grew stronger and stronger. Sweat was streaming down his face and body, stinging in several little cut and scrapes, and agonizing on his injured side. His free hand flew to the injury, and he had to keep back a yelp when he felt how wet his side was. He pulled his hand back, sticky, and refused to think about it.

He tripped over something hard and fell forwards with a yell. Instantly he felt himself being tugged to the side, a hand being pressed firmly over his mouth, his father's voice telling him not to make a sound.

Aerrow's heart drummed louder and louder in his chest as the seconds wore on and neither of them moved. Finally, whatever his father had feared might happen obviously didn't, and Aerrow was dragged back onto his feet.

The screams from the people of the village grew louder, and Aerrow realized that more and more of them were screaming now. Weird blasting sounds could be heard, and every one made Aerrow cringe inside.

"Aerrow!"

"Mom!"

His whole body jolted to the sound of his mother's voice as his eyes flashed open.

He froze.

Reaching out before him was a vast orange haze. The whole village was blazing. Thick black smoke curled up into the sky. Sparks flew madly around in the air. The screaming people were running around frenziedly, their cries mixing with the sounds of striking swords and crystal blasts.

A deep red glow rose along with the flames. The Cyclonian warriors rampaged the town, striking down all in their paths. The orange light of the burning village reflected off the silver of their armor, glinting and flashing cruelly at Aerrow as he watched.

It only took a few seconds for his father to react. Aerrow was thrown roughly up onto his father's shoulder, and the man took off at full tilt away from the blazes of their home. Tears stung in his green eyes as he gaped back at the massacre of his village over his father's shoulder.

He was paralyzed.

He was thrown onto a hard surface, his stomach making contact with a painful smack. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from the flames. He was yanked up into a sitting position, but he kept his eyes trained on the running and terrified villagers. His father settled down behind him, and it was only then that Aerrow realized they were on his father's skimmer.

"Aerrow."

The voice sounded distant, but when his shoulders were shaken roughly Aerrow snapped to attention.

"Aerrow, you have to help me fly."

Aerrow nodded even though he didn't understand, and wrapped his short fingers around the handles of the skimmer. Only one of his father's hands joined them, and Aerrow could vaguely feel that his father was crushing his other hand against his stomach. He was rigid, shaking, and Aerrow knew instinctively that his father was in great pain.

"Rev it, Aerrow." His father's command came through gritted teeth.

Aerrow twisted his hands towards his chest, fighting himself to ignore the screams and booming crashes still coming from behind the tiny airstrip. The engine growled into life and his father kicked up the stand as the vehicle shot forwards. The airstrip was only a few hundred paces long, and ended at the edge of the terra. The pair shot over the side with the faintest spray of rocks behind them.

Aerrow immediately reached down to pull on the lever by his left leg. It didn't budge, and he threw all the force he could against it. With a great crunch the lever jerked into place. The wings sprung from the sides of the skimmer and it launched upwards.

It was only a few seconds later that Aerrow heard the unwelcome sound of another engine growling behind them. His father turned around and cursed quietly.

"Full speed, Aerrow. We have to lose him!"

Aerrow turned the handles as far as they would go in to his body and the vehicle shot forwards, but the fact remained that the skimmer was only designed for crop dusting, and there was no way it would out-fly a Talon.

Behind him, Aerrow felt his father move down, and his large hand fell away from the handlebar. With a metallic clang from behind him, Aerrow was jolted in his seat as the skimmer suddenly jerked upwards. It only took him a few seconds to realize that his father had disconnected the dusting gear, and a few seconds more to regain control of the vehicle.

The Talon was practically on them by now, and Aerrow had to fight his urge to break down in fear. He powered the vehicle to its limit, but it just could not go any faster. He gritted his teeth, and in a small moment of decision, he jerked the craft to the side and into a straight plunge for the Wastelands below.

Ever since he was small, his father had taken him up on the old skimmer to work or just to enjoy the views and the heights. But never once had Aerrow actually flown the thing.

They dove right down, Aerrow squinting his eyes as the heat from the magma and flames roaring below them became stronger and stronger. The chugging of the engine grew more and more forced as the ancient skimmer was pushed to its limit. Aerrow didn't check to see if the Talon was still following, but concentrated on the soaring sound moving all around them as they freefell.

He was seconds away from plunging into the lava below when he suddenly heard the telltale whir of a skimmer pulling up. He grinned slightly and shifted the handles to the side, feeling his stomach jolt horribly as the craft leapt to the side and halted its fall. He just skimmed above the blazes below.

Tiny pieces of flaming rock leapt onto his clothing, and he frantically swatted them off before he caught fire.

He was suddenly thrown forwards by his father's body as a rocketing boom crashed behind them. He yelped in fright and pain as a terrible burning seared across his nose, but kept control of the skimmer. He pulled it round in an arc and saw the smoking remains of the Talon burning against a black rock jutting out of the magma. He scowled at it and pulled on the handles, rocketing the craft back up into the air.

Sweat and something else coursed down his face, his scarlet hair was slicked against his neck, his eyes wide. His heart thundered in his chest and his pulse beat furiously through his veins. His head ached all over, and he was aware of his father's body still somewhat crushing him against the handlebars.

Too afraid to push his father back in case he fell off into the Wastelands in his unconscious state, Aerrow tolerated his discomfort as he powered the skimmer through the nighttime air. He swept back over his home, but quickly banked and swerved away when he realized that he would gain nothing from that and may get himself and his father captured.

Not knowing where else to go, Aerrow sought the familiar blue light of the Terra Atmosia Beacon Tower. He saw it beaming far, far away like a star, and turned the craft towards its light, leaving the blazing village behind him.

Aerrow glanced back around his father as the pair soared away from the desolated terra – the inferno of his home fading away from him into the night.


Any thoughts? Please tell me! ;D