Prologue

A shell burst over her head, lighting up the vault in shades of destruction and fire. The girl didn't bat an eyelash. With one hand, she vaulted over a crate, using her free hand to pull the trigger on her pistol. A laser too large for the gun shot from its tip, screaming across the landing strip and into her pursuers, rendering steel and titanium to nothing more than smoldering ashes. There was a click and plasma bolts flew over her head, turning the wall in front of her into a patchwork honeycomb. Had she been a fraction of a second slower, she would be looking upon this scene from the underworld.

The girl flattened herself against the floor and waited. Rays of condensed light continued to pepper the wall, sending rock flying in every direction. They clattered against the metal crates lying about. Another shell burst off to the side and the girl sharply inhaled, the light from the explosion coming dangerously close to exposing her position. She had to keep moving. She couldn't stop. Not here.

With enough noise to wake the dead, no one noticed the sound of her inching her way across the floor, one painstaking crawl at a time. Sweat dripped down her forehead. The glare of search beams circled around the chamber, illuminating large battle robots, grounded aircraft, and odd war the guns finally slowed and then stopped all together, she was far away from where they had been firing, curled up among spare airplane noses. She looked at her watch.

Two minutes.

She had two whole minutes to spare!?

All that running for nothing.

With a breathless sigh, she leaned back on the closest metal column. Two minutes to kill, huh? She drew her pistol and a small cloth, cleaning the ash streaks along the barrel. The chamber fell eerily quiet; the only sound to be heard was the dull hum of engines.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. Get in, download plans, get out. Easy. Simple. Like taking batteries from a scrap yard.

And of course they installed infrared imaging the day before.

So much for Plan A.

The girl put her pistol back in its holster and wiped the sweat from her forehead. They wanted to kill her. Someone, or several someones, genuinely wanted to kill her. There must have been an order sent out to shoot anyone who doesn't look like a machine or a six armed demon god. That in of itself was unusual. State policy dictated that infiltrators be captured, questioned, and tortured. They couldn't afford to let anyone who could lead them to rebellion factions escape. Considering they had access to every manner of torture on the planet and all the time in the world, it didn't make sense for them to kill her. After all, she did have valuable information. They had to know that.

That left one reasonable explanation.

They saw her face. They knew who she was. And they considered her too dangerous to capture alive.

It was honestly quite flattering. Terrifying, but flattering.

She glanced to her wrist again.

A blast shattered the silence, resonating across the chamber and echoing off the smooth walls. Sitting up into a crouch, the girl's eyes darted left and right. Less than a breath later came the shrill shriek of a shell whizzing through the air, slamming into the weakened wall with enough force to topple a building. There was a flash and the rumble of crumbling rock. Blinding golden sunlight streamed through the jagged opening at the end of the runway.

Plan B was a go.

Jumping to her feet, the girl's boots ate stone as she sprinted across the hanger. Blasts nipped at her heels in less time that it takes for a gremlin to loose interest in a conversation. The girl reached into her belt and threw the first object she could grasp between her gloved fingers. There was a sizzling pop and the lovely sound of frying circuits. Electroshock orbs. And the robot said they'd be a waste of space. She had no time to celebrate her victory, though. They wouldn't be down for long. Sharply turning a corner, she hoped that even if the security system schematics were outdated, the inventory records would still be accurate.

And she wasn't disappointed.

A sleek fighter jet stood before her, painted in deep bronze and metallic gold. The nose was rounded to perfection, the wings sliced at angles precise enough to cut through gale force winds. Two horizontal stabilizers behind the wings, two vertical stabilizers atop, and four separate engines centered behind the cockpit. Add in two external fuel tanks and...were those missiles!? Real homing and heat tracking missiles!

This had to be a dream. Or heaven. She pinched herself. It was neither. She was looking at a real J-106 'Screeching Eagle' fighter jet with speeds that could reach Mach 3.25. It took every ounce of willpower to not stop dead in her tracks and gape at the incredible sight before her. Instead, she raced up the ladder standing next to the airplane, taking the rungs two, sometimes three at a time. She threw herself into the cockpit, threw the ladder away from the side, and threw her fingers into a frenzy.

"Instruments are calibrated, targeting gear fully functional, flaps in takeoff position, fuel tank at seventy-eight percent," the girl muttered to herself as the glass above slid into place. Her fingers flew across the control panel, flipping switches and setting dials. With a few more clicks of her fingers, the panel before her lit up in a ray of flashing lights. Another and the force field sprung around the craft with a pop, barely in time to counter the hail of plasma bolts. The engine roared to life, flames the size of small buildings shooting out the back of the craft. With quick motions, the girl snapped her goggles onto her face and strapped herself in. Taking the control stick into her hands, she directed the jet onto the tarmac as fast as she dared.

"Alright, Screamer, get me out of here," she grinned and pushed the engines to full throttle. The airplane shot out from underneath her, rocketing down the runway at speeds faster than the average pilot could comprehend. But as young as she was, she was no ordinary aviator. Counting the seconds down to a tee, she pulled up at the last possible second. The plane shot off the ground, out of the hidden hanger, and into open air. She immediately yanked the control stick towards the floor, sending the jet spiraling into a nose dive. With a hard turn, she righted the plane and shot towards the mountain range before her.

Now this was a plane she could get used to piloting.

"Screeching Eagle 7-3-5, terminate your flight immediately or you will be shot down," a voice buzzed over the intercom. The girl scowled and flipped the transmitter off without a second glance.

"'Terminate your flight immediately or you will be shot down,'" she mocked with a snort, weaving between the valleys and peaks of the jagged ridge. "You're gonna have to catch me first, bastards." A beep sounded to her left. Then another. Then quite a few at the same time. She glanced to her tracking computer and quickly turned her attention back to steering. Scanning the sides of the mountain, she took the first hard right she could find.

The missile just barely missed the tail of the jet. The resulting explosion did not. The girl gripped the steering mechanism with all her might, trying to stabilize the aircraft, and forced the plane around another bend. Another missile smashed into the mountain side, pieces of rock bouncing off the nearly broken shield. She gritted her teeth. She'd have to put in a better generator once she got out of this mess, not to mention a more responsive steering device and a more reliable oxygen supply. The air tank was already dipping below twenty-five percent.

"Idiot, this thing's got a tracker," she muttered to herself, watching as more dots converged on her location. Another sharp turn lead her behind a large peak. This was bad. She'd have to find it quickly or else this would all have been in vain. There was no way she was leading them back to her base. The rebellion could not die because of her mistake. However, that still did not solve the problem of finding said transmitter. It could be anywhere on the aircraft and there was no way in hell she was putting this thing on autopilot so she could find it. That would doom her for sure.

She let out a long sigh; she had no other choice. Slipping off one of her gloves, she put a hand on the control panel and reached for her element. Spellcraft had never really been her strong suit. Her skill with the worldly arts was subpar at best and she still struggled to cast even the most basic of cantrips. It was infuriating how bad she was with bending the rules of nature. However, she had a special knack for her element, especially when it came to machines.

Little waves of metallic gold light shot out from her fingertips, weaving through the intricate technology. With a blink of her eyes, she found herself looking into the inner workings of the jet. A small flick of her fingers and the tendrils moved deeper into the machinery. They weaved between the wires and the computer chips, searching for the little device that was causing all this trouble. Through all the gears and crevices the light slipped through, pass the engine and the cooling system, to a small little chip hidden by the landing gear, one that seemed crude and out of place.

"Gotcha," she smirked, making a small gesture. The little light ribbons circled the small device, delicately prying the wires and screws off the left wheel before enveloping the chip in a small sphere. She clenched her fist. There was a small snap and the pathetic sound of a dying piece of ancient machinery. When she released the elemental working, there was only a small pile of broken plastic and silicon.

The whole process took maybe two and a half seconds. Which, in her opinion, was two and a half seconds too long. But now she had all the time in the world.

"Catch me now, suckers!" she whooped, sending the jet around another bend. The missiles screamed after her, seeking the heat of the engines. She twisted the stick and shot into a narrow valley, the blasts from the rockets echoing off the rocky ridges. With another flick of her wrist, she shot around large formations of rock and around a bend, the jet gaining speed with every passing second. She let out a laugh. Oh, how she loved flying.

A small beeping noise came from her radar. Glancing up ahead, she found herself looking directly into a cliff wall. The sky above was not much better; large robots were circling overhead, waiting for her to fly right into their grasp. They knew she had nowhere to go.

The girl grinned. Instead of slowing down and pulling the jet up, she pushed the engines harder. The rocks grew larger with every millisecond, fiery painful death approaching from ahead, behind, and above.

This was insane. This was probably going to end in a large explosion and her becoming a member of the undead.

But hey, no better time to experiment then the present.

She couldn't cast spells to save her life. Her elemental magic was decent on a good day. As good of a pilot as she was, she was only human.

But she knew something they didn't.

She had one tiny, unimportant, insignificant little inborn talent.

With three fingers, she swept an arc in front of her. There was a large flash and a massive swirling vortex sprung up on the cliff wall. It was if storm clouds decided to dye themselves in every color of the rainbow, mixing and swirling until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Small licks of colored lightning shot out from the sides. At random, a stream of water or a trail of purple sparks or a few ghostly images would spiral out from the center. It was a chaotic working the likes which had never been seen in their world.

She did love her portals.

With a wide grin on her face, the girl sent the jet into a spiral and entered the vortex. There was a split second where everything flipped upside-down, and her heart and throat switched places while colors swam before her eyes, before she shot out into open sky.

The girl let out a whoop. She had done it.

And proceeded to open up the top and dry heave.

She liked traveling by portal. Her stomach had a much different opinion.

Still slightly queasy, the girl took the control stick and weaved through the clouds, slowly letting off the gas and letting the ship lazily soar. The girl leaned back and let out a sigh of relief. She had done it. She was safe. Mission accomplished. Just a few minutes of free flying brought her to her destination, though you wouldn't know it from first glance. That's why they had chosen this specific corner of the world for their base.

After all, it's kind of hard to find an island that looks like a cloud from both above and below.

A few more switch flips and the landing gear popped out as she made her decent. The wheels hit the makeshift runway smoothly and the jet gradually made its way to a dead stop. The clouds circling the island rushed to cover up the metallic coated aircraft, and soon enough, the landscape took on its normal dull gray tone. A thick fog obscured everything, turning the hills into large gray lumps and the trees into slightly small gray lumps.

Home sweet home. But as homes go, it wasn't a bad one. At least it had people who weren't trying to kill her.

Most of the time, anyways.

Popping open the top, the girl unbuckled the strap over her chest and jumped over the side. Two strong arms caught her before she hit the ground.

"A bit reckless, don't you think?" a large tree spirit asked with a chuckle. "You could have broken a leg from a fall like that."

"Would've been a good excuse to get a decent night's sleep," she replied with a grin. The tree being smiled back and set her atop his shoulder.

"Yes, but we do need you, regardless of what the others may say," the tree spirit said. With long strides, he traversed the mist covered ground in a matter of minutes. Before too long, the silhouettes of her fellow rebels came into to few, shrouded by the fog but instantly recognizable.

"I'm baaaaaack!" she shouted. Heads turned and cheers erupted as she and the tree spirit neared the group. They swarmed her almost instantly, their individual voices melding into one continuous harmony.

"I can't believe you got in and out of the city in one piece!" a tall golden robot exclaimed, almost in shock. "I know that place inside and out and I'm not even sure I could do that!"

"You owe me five coins, by the way. I used the orbs," the girl smirked.

"Dragon piss!"

"Did you get everything?" a female elf asked, her white eyes filled with what could be mistaken for hope. The girl grinned and reached into her belt. With slow, deliberate, and somewhat overdramatic flair, she pulled out a small storage chip.

"I got schematics, battle plans, armory inventory, military records, access codes, and a complete layout of their electrical grid," the girl replied, throwing the chip to the robot. "It's encrypted but it shouldn't be too long before we know every little thing about them."

"I'll get right to it," he happily answered, caching the chip between two fingers and wheeling off. The others murmured amongst themselves, throwing out tidbits about strategy meetings and upping training sessions. With a small push, the girl slid down the side of the tree spirit and landed on the spongy ground. Stretching out her arms, and feeling her shoulders pop multiple times, she decided that a shower sounded like a good course of action. A small spring in her step, she made her way towards the little house her fellow rebels had built for her.

"You did well today, Arasten," said a voice to her left, one that was high and light, almost like the sound of twinkling bells..

"In my opinion, you shouldn't have gone, but even I will admit that was a brilliant move on your part," said another to her left, the voice deeper and slightly darker in tone. "But did you really have to cast your...portals without our help? There is a reason why there are two of us, you know." The girl shook her head and smiled.

"Come on guys. We've known each other for years. You know I'm a stubborn little human who doesn't want help from anyone," she smirked, pushing back her goggles. "And don't call me that. You know I hate that name. It's Ara."

In a world and time far away from this incident, at the very darkest hours of the night, two individuals sat up in their beds. One of them pondered the dream for a few seconds and chuckled under their breath.

"That explains a lot," they said, before laying back down and slipping back into the land of dreams with great ease.

The other remained upright for a long time, looking into their reflection in the mirror, wondering just what the dream could possibly mean as the night grew colder.

Hello everyone! Welcome to part two of my series! For those of you who have not read the first part in my series, "Heroes Come in All Shapes and Sizes," this probably doesn't make a whole lot of sense. For those of you who have, this probably answers some questions...and raises others.

And I'm sorry for going on hiatus and then resubmitting this story. I have a reason. I promise.

Please review :)