-1Disclaimer: Rave belongs to 7blackcat13.

Nova, Lark, and Immer- "Your Neck" by Alkaline Trio.

Rave- "Hold On" by Korn.

Nova- "Sidewinder" by Avenged Sevenfold.

"I used to long for broken bones, I used to long for a casket to call my own. I never had a problem facing fear, but I'm done, over and out my dear. Oh mercy me, God Bless Catastrophe. There's no way in hell we'll ever live to see through this, so drive yourself insane tonight, it's not that far away and I just filled up your tank earlier today, yea-ahh."

-"Mercy Me" by Alkaline Trio.

OoOoOo

Stork

His head turns, speaking to me now.

"You Storm Hawks will be left alone. We simply want her. Stay still and you will not be harmed any further."

Against all reason, with only the misplaced hope of the Dark Ace keeping his promise, I stay still on the floor. Not that I could have moved anyway, not without bursting into tears of pain. Ooohhh ow ow ow ow… why am I always the one getting stabbed and bullied around?! There's a crash near the table and my head shoots over to see Piper on the floor as well, a blond human tying her up with my rope, binding her tight. The woman finishes the final knot with a jerk, making Piper wince and gasp.

We've been completely blindsided. In nothing more than a minute.

"Go."

The Dark Ace's voice is harder than I ever heard it in life, no rage fueling it. Just… something cold. And deadly. He grabs the back of Lark's neck when she doesn't comply, dragging her along and ignoring her protests.

"Immer!" She says, voice almost cracking in a panic. I've never heard her panic. Never envisioned her as the type to lose herself to fear, but here she was with it making her eyes shimmer. "Immer, wait, please- you can't do this. No…" She straightens up, resisting further, a new steel entering her voice to replace the young girl's fear. Now she was the Empress again, rage entering her whispering tone. "You won't. I forbid it, Dark Ace!"

"Lark, you are no Cyclonis anymore than I'm the Dark Ace. Your powers are useless. Now stop fussing and go along quietly, so that our brother may see you."

She pulls herself to a full stop, glaring up at him. "I am Master Cyclonis," she tells him, glaring him in the eye. "You can't suddenly take that away from me now that that bastard's alive! I am yourQueen, Dark Ace!"

"Damn, this girl's right full of fire, ain't she?" the blond woman says with a laugh, walking up to the Dark Ace and slapping him on the back. He glares at her out of the corner of his eye and she sobers up some, clearing her throat nervously. "Must run in the family."

"Kitten," he says in a dangerously low tone. The woman snaps to attention, right hand rising to her forehead in a somewhat mocking salute. "See that the Merb is securely fastened. I don't want him escaping."

"Sir yes sir, commodore commander lieutenant general-man sir!" she clicks her heels together with an impish smile and prances over to me, rope in hand. I shrink away from her at first but a smack to my head puts all thoughts of rebellion out of it. She pulls the knots too tight, cutting off my circulation. My ears feel like they're permanently pressed against my head, quivering with the knowledge that Merb ears are easily torn right off the afflicted party's head. Sounds are accordingly muted, as is my vision as I clench my eyes shut in fright. The woman named Kitten ruffles my thick green hair, making me shudder.

"Aw, just look at him, Immer," she says with a coo in her voice. "The poor bastard's shakin' like the last dead leaf on tree in winter. Tugs at my heartstrings, that."

"He's a lot more interesting with a weapon in his hands," says a sickeningly familiar voice, someone new standing near the doorway. But I can't place it, for all that I try to. I don't event want to open my eyes at this point, in case I see something I really don't want to see. In case I'm wrong and I do know the owner of the voice.

"Hmm," Kitten says, hand on her chin as she examines me from head to my six toes. "Your anatomy is so strange for a Merb, even considerin' you're from Tenebria. Hey!" she snaps her fingers in a sudden epiphany. "Maybe you're not even a Merb." In spite of myself, my eyes pop open, heart hammering, sweat leaking from every pore. I keep my gaze trained on her and my body shakes with new dread.

"Per'aps…" Her teeth are bared in a smile, and when I see they've been filed to sharp points I want to die. "Per'aps you're part human? You do look so familiar, kid…"

She only has one eye left, the other probably ripped out in some vicious battle years before. But her solitary blue eye brightens with another epiphany as she leans closer to me, making me feel as though she can see right into my filthy, filthy half-blood veins. Her voice is a taunting, vile whisper.

"On your father's side, eh?"

I can only stare at her in shocked terror, trying to swallow a nervous lump in my throat but my mouth is dry as dirty rags. Everything I had struggled to keep secret for so long laid bare by this stranger. Everything.

"Heheh… I'd love to see what ya look like all sliced up. I've never dissected a half-breed before."

I see her hands reach for me again, nails like claws. Everything is going fuzzy, fuzzy from blood loss and mental anguish and bloody shame.

"Hey! Keep your paws off him, Kitten. Snowfire is too good to be just another one of your experiments."

My eyes swivel over to the indignant speaker- a girl. Not Piper.

Olive.

Oh, my god.

The only feasible explanation for this is almost too terrible to consider, but I've always known something like this would happen. My sister could only be a zombie. I try to shout but what comes out is more like an asthmatic wheeze. My dead sister wiggles her fingers at me in a greeting while I contemplate how I'm going to shoot her in the head if I don't have any sort of projectile. But there's always fire. Fire is good. "Hello again, Snowfire- and goodbye. Forever."

Th-that's too sentient to be a zombie.

"You two, cease your babble." The Dark Ace seethes contempt, I can feel it even from where I lay, too petrified to move. "Olive, take Lark while I set the bomb." Olive… What the Dark Ace is saying doesn't even register in my mind. Everything is so unclear I close my eyes to protect my mind from further damage. I don't even feel pain anymore. Luckily, Piper is still thinking straight.

"You- bomb?! You said you'd leave us alone!"

I finally open my eyes as Piper speaks in an outrage, voice blazing with anger. She struggles against her bonds much more than I can, since I'm bleeding my life out here. I'm just lucky the Dark Ace doesn't seem to have injured my spinal chord- but apparently walking will only be the least of my concerns with this recent development. I take in a breath to speak but I'm cut short when Kitten shoves a gag into my mouth, fingernails trailing lovingly along my snout before pulling away.

Olive does the same to Piper what Kitten did to me, cutting off any further resistance. Blowing me a kiss, she yanks Cyclonis along by the arm. When the former Empress resists, Olive proves herself to be just as violent as she was in life and far less patient than the Dark Ace, striking Cyclonis on her temple and knocking her out for the second time in less than forty eight hours. The girl crumples into nothing, nothing but a girl after all's said and done, and probably dead.

"She's lighter than me," Olive says with something like amazement in her voice, hefting Cyclonis over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. It looks a bit awkward, since Cyclonis was taller than the pygmy. "She's so weak, are you sure she'll make it through death alive? Excusing the oxymoron…"

"Your head was lopped off, wasn't it?" Kitten drawls, thankfully drawing away from me. Her hands twine together behind her head as she walks, a casual care-free position that doesn't belong in such a tense environment.

"True," Olive agrees, smiling thinly. "Well then I'm sure little Immer here will do her just fine, just like he did with me."

Kitten grinned at this. "Sho is! Immer goan waaaaave those healin' hands over his sister, this boy is!" Her own hands shoot straight up like a devout at prayer time, waving from side to side wildly. "And the divine right of the Harbingers'll bring her back to us, without a scratch to show she'd passed! Hallelujah!"

"You're a freak," is Olive's only comment, but she looks as though she's fighting back laughter. The Dark Ace is less than amused, brushing past the two to exit the Condor.

"If you're done fooling around, we only have ten minutes to clear the area before it's reduced to rubble. And Kitten-" he stops to jab one accusing finger in the blonde's direction, mouth twisted into a scowl. "Don't you- or Olive- ever call me Immer again. That name is dead. Just like me. Just like all of us."

"Fine by me, darlin'." Kitten follows behind him like a loyal duckling, hands clasped behind her back as she hovers over his every step.

"Ruin all the fun I get out of this second life, why don't you," Olive mutters, taking up the rear.

OoOoOo

Out of the corner of my eye I can see it. A small black box, deceptively small for what undoubtedly will be a very large explosion. I can see Piper, wriggling towards the table like a deranged worm, grunting with effort but thwarted by the simple fact that she can't stand up to reach for it. I don't even bother moving. Burning with shame, my back aching with fresh wounds and my hand throbbing from a slightly less fresh one and my heart aching from the continuing betrayal of the girl I used to love, I can't move.

I hear Piper cursing bitterly around the rags in her mouth, just as beaten as I am.

I don't care so much that I'm going to die-

(No, scratch that. I'm terrified.)

-I just wish the Condor and Piper didn't have to go down with me. She- the Condor- has survived over a hundred years. Dozens of squadrons before us have flown her. Two (including us) broke the air speed record of the world. My eyes mist over in a brief moment of elation, remembering that day. My bird had pulled through for me just like she always did. Tears of joy turn cold hard as I realize that she'll die because of me, too. Not even die, because a ship doesn't have the luxury of forgetting anything. Her scrap will haunt the airspace around us, singing her song that only the patient can hear.

This is all my fault. If only I had just made Piper listen to me. Any sort of romance between a Merb and a human spells disaster. It's just plain cursed. But she didn't. She never listens, not the way she needs to. She just couldn't be content with being friends. She just had to get in the way of my happiness, of what little sanity I clung to.

Wait a minute, damn it! What happiness? What the hell did I have before I saw her there at the meeting table, just a girl? Just a girl who grew up like a skinny little weed in front of my eyes? Damn her! Damn me! It's my fault for ever even considering her love, those days we were left behind on the Condor while the guys went out on some adventure. The way she proved how mature and silly she was, the way she knew everything and yet nothing, the way she seemed so innocent and then not so innocent. She broke through my mental shield to get close to me and I had loved every second of it, masochist that I am, a slow torture that sent shivers down my spine. And it was more than that- more than the fact that I knew she was attractive by even Merb standards. It was a spirit thing. She was like Olive before she died that first time by my own hands, before the madness and the jungle took over her and she became like every other savage Merb I've had the displeasure of knowing.

But what can I do now? Nothing. I can't save her, I can't save myself, I can't save the basis of the sanity I reclaimed, my blessed Condor, my salvation, my sanctuary.

There's nothing. Nothing anyone can do. My eyelids find themselves closing again, feeling everything slipping away. This is my second brush with death because of that Nova character. I'd heard it said that the third time's the charm, but I guess…

"Hey, there aren't any Cyclonians here!"

The voice is accusing, causing my eyes to flutter open hazily. Two figures- one very large, the other not so much- crowd in the hatch. One is Junko. The other is a girl I've never seen before. My heart races in panic when I see her hair is shockingly white (white hair has not been a good omen recently) but a few moments reassures me that this time, that's not the case.

I spit out the rags in a sudden burst of energy, deliriously screaming as I writhe around on the ground, bound like a pig for slaughter. "We're saved!!!" I've never been so happy to see a Bangledon- or whatever that girl is. She looks at least half-Bangledon, or Tiger Folk.

Then I remember. Everything I cherish is about to go up in flames. Bouncing on the floor, I ignore ripples of pain along my back and wriggle faster than Piper had towards the table where the bomb lays. Piper herself is making noises of alarm, having not yet been able to spit out her gags.

"Eh?" Junko says, grey eyes sweeping over us. "Why are you guys all tied up? Don't you know there are Sky Sharks all over the place?

"Umm…" The tiger girl takes a few steps back, long striped white ears folding flat against her skull. With one free hand, she gently began to pull a confused Junko backwards. "We'll come back later. I think we walked into something a bit intimate."

"Oh, shut up!" I snap at her, bouncing just out of reach of the bomb on our meeting table. "Get- That- Thing- Out- Of- My- Ship!" I grind out with every mad hop even as unwilling tears of pain course down my cheeks. Junko scratches his head in confusion and I growl, rolling my eyes in exasperation. "The bomb!" I roll around, closer to Junko's feet and land with my ruined back to the floor, leaking eyes seeking his. "The bomb!" I shout again, knowing how mad this must look and not caring. "The bomb, the bomb, the bo-o-o-omb! It's gonna blow this place to smithereens!"

"We only have seven minutes left!" That was Piper, somehow managing to get past her gag as well. "Quick, Junko- throw it into the Wastelands!"

"I got it!"

The Bangledon girl rips a hover board off her back, tossing it to the floor and revving up the engines with the bomb under her arm. But when she tries to explode out the front door she slams straight into nothing, coming to a halt as if she had run right into a solid wall. Red light shimmers faintly in the door opening before fading to nothing. A force field. In the distance I can see the engines of her hover board still moving, growing fainter and fainter as the seconds marched on.

"Ai-yeeee!" the Bangledon whimpers as she sits on the floor, holding the black box out in front of her with both hands. "I.. I think I know what this is!" she says, tucking the box under her arm and fumbling around her dark brown utility belt for a remote control. She beeps a few buttons and the hover board flies back inside, loyally resting at her feet. "There's a sensor around the ship that prevents this thing from going past a certain domain!" Testing it, she ran the opposite direction from the door to a side window. She doesn't even make it that far, running slam into another field of energy. "Damn!" she says, pounding against it with one fist. "Anything carrying or somehow having contact with the bomb can't get out of the ship!" she says, panic sharpening her voice to a high, scared pitch.

The Bangledon turns to face us all with a grim expression, setting the box down on the floor. "Then it sounds to me like it's time to abandon ship!" Hopping onto her board, she gently slides out the opening and looks over her shoulder at us. "C'mon! There's only five minutes now!"

"But we can't just let the Condor die! This is our home!"

"It's a place," the tiger girl says, ears fluttering anxiously. "It's like any other place! You'll find another ship, Storm Hawk, but you only have one life! Don't be an idiot!"

The three of us stand inside our home, Junko supporting me with a reassuring arm around my waist, one of my arms slung over his shoulder. She- the tiger girl in the blue uniform- waits outside, her yellow-green cat eyes wide as dinner plates. She doesn't understand, I can tell, so there's nothing to do but explain to her. "We're Storm Hawks," I tell her, throat rasping but words clear in the heart-pounding silence, looking up at her from under my fringe of green hair. "But without the Condor, we're not the same. She's just as important as any other member of the squadron."

"It would be the same as if any of us died," Junko says next to me, his heart sounding like a rumbling jungle drum. I rest my cheek against his chest, glad for my friend to be there when I need him. Glad that someone else can talk, cause I'm goddamn tired.

Piper stands on her own, but just barely. Junko had cut Piper's bonds, so she stood up now, rubbing at her arms to try and massage them back to life. She's slouching, one hand pressed against her shoulder wound, which had reopened and started bleeding again. "We're staying," she says. "And that's final."

Three minutes left, by my count. "If Piper finishes the shield in time we might move, but until then…"

The Bangledon is quivering. "You guys have got to be joking," she says with a shaking voice, kicking her board up and stepping onto the ground. She runs to Piper, who had turned her back on the outsider and limped to her room, returning with an armful of crystals. She sets herself before the box, fiddling with her crystals as if she had all the time in the world, examining them close to her eye and then arranging them in a careful pile.

"Kid, quit it!" she says, hands hovering around Piper but not truly daring to touch her. "There's nothing you can do. Trust me on this one- I've seen what this bomb can do firsthand."

"If I can set up a containing device around the bomb, the damage might be lessened," Piper says stubbornly. "Do me a favor and cart some of these charts away, as far on the ship from this place as you can. Some of them are irreplaceable, you know." Junko leads me to a chair and I relax into it gratefully, my head lolling backwards.

"I'll get you something for the pain, buddy," he says.

"Thanks, man."

"Hey, Wallop! Knock some sense into your friends here and carry them out!"

Junko blinks innocently at her, standing to his full height to look down at the Bangledon. "Rave, I'd never hurt my friends," he tells her, using Junko-logic to end the discussion. "Now help Piper and do what she said." He had already gathered a large amount of maps in his muscular arms and disappeared behind the automatic doors of the Condor.

"You guys are crazy!"

She looks around her, waiting for a response. Not likely. Cursing manically under her breath, she darts to the maps and runs after Junko, returning for another load faster than you could say Merbian Crazy Face. "Hell, I'm crazy too," she mutters.

I can't help myself. I grin at her, seeing my reflection in her eyes. I look like something out of a nightmare, all sharp teeth and bony angles and dark predator attitude. "Well, in that case," I tell her, "Welcome to the party, Rave, and enjoy it while you can. It might just last your entire life."

Sweat gathers above her brow, and she doesn't return my smile. "Two minutes left," she tells me, still working with the crystals. "Shouldn't you move to a safer area already?"

"Nah. I'd rather be here with the blast itself."

All the maps were gone. Junko had returned to sit next to me, bringing pain relievers that I swallow dry. Piper continues to tinker with her crystals, oranges eyes strangely vacant now that she's in her zone, where nothing is important but the right combination and the chemical formulas that lay resting inside her conscious mind. Rave stands before us, taking it all in, a stranger to the madness we call normal life here on the Condor.

"You guys are gonna die," she says, face as pale as her hair even as a grin spreads across her face. We have that effect on people.

"We very well could die, Stork," Piper sounds from her corner of the room. "Last chance for love confessions."

"Oh, please," I mutter, blood rushing to my face. "What do you think this is? A TV show?"

"Dramatic enough to be one," Junko says, voice speculative as he munches on a sandwich he found lying under the table. We're at our usual spot, only instead of facing each other we're seated with a front row view of the bomb and Piper, watching our doom like a sick movie. Wiping dust and mold from the sandwich, Junko chills in the chair next to me, one arm around my shoulder. "You guys have somethin' going on? I never knew."

"It's no-thing," I grind out, eyelid twitching.

Piper finishes. "All right- let's go!"

Junko helps me up, one hand on my back. I groan under my breath, trying to shrink away from the unwanted display of affection. "Too late now, anyway. We're all gonna die."

One minute left.

"Well, hell!" Rave storms over to us, grabbing Piper by the arm and dragging her after Junko, the fur on her ears standing on end and her muscles quivering. "If even a merb ain't scared of this thing, I'm sure not! I'm not about to be outdone by Atmos's weakest cowards!"

"Not very bright, are you?" I say mildly.

"I happened to graduate top of my class, thanks." She nods sharply to our death, lying in a corner surrounded by a shimmering golden shield of Piper's crystals. "I happened to design that very bomb you're looking at. Ain't nothing gonna stop it, not even me. I never stuck around long enough to work out all the kinks."

Thirty seconds left.

"A Cyclonian," Piper says under her breath, already tensing for a fight with the girl she had just been leaning on for support.

"Nah," Rave shakes her head, eyes still trained on the bomb; she closes the hatch door and we move further away on the ship. "Not anymore, at least."

Twenty seconds left. "This might hurt," Junko says, sounding as if he only just realized this. His eyebrows furrow together in concentration and he stops eating, grey eyes worried. He looks to Piper for an answer, as he usually does.

"It might," Piper accedes.

Ten seconds left. The box begins to sound off the last moments in loud, paranoid beeps- or maybe that's just my imagination. "Get ready, everyone," Rave says in a whisper, tensing up. I can only laugh, though I'm not sure why.

"Some party," Junko says, voice nothing but a mumble as he tosses his moldy sandwich aside, holding onto Stork now with both arms.

Four-

Three-

Oops. I was off by a few seconds, I manage to think as the shockwave hits us all.

OoOoOo

Finn

"Finn, whaddaya say to a little game of cat-and-mouse?"

We're floating in the airspace above the battle, hordes of Cyclonian and Atmosian ships under fire so heavy I can feel the heat of death on the soles of my feet. It's already well into nighttime, the sun having given up on us around two hours ago. The flashing lights and exploding ships look like fireworks. I load my crossbow and crank up the crystal controls, grinning at Aerrow through my sights. I'm aiming at his face, able to see everything down to the veins in the whites of his eyes. "I say: who's the mouse?"

"C'mon, you're not stupid."

"No, but I try to be!"

We laugh and as one grip at our controls to launch into a suicide dive right into the line of fire. Cyclonian guns target us- all of them. They all recognize Storm Hawks when they see one, having been in battles with us before, having seen the deadly blue glare of our Skimmer engines. Aerrow raises one hand, gesturing to the flagship at the center of the fray and I honk the horn on my skimmer in acknowledgment. He goes left, I go right, and we circle the flagship, firing at will on the guns, and the shield protectors, at the engine vents- flies stinging a water buffalo. Well this was a bad-ass mother buffalo and wasn't about to take our shit, so she flies forward, all her guns aiming for us. One of the shots clips my wing and I cough at the smoke, my controls growing wonkier by the second.

"I think we're the Mouse right about now, Aerrow," I yell at him over the noise of battle. He nods, sweat glistening on his face and we retreat from the ship. It follows us, so blinded by the need to finally get rid of these Storm Hawk pests that it doesn't realize we're leading the Cat to the Dog.

The Alley lurches up from beneath the cloud line, rearing her head high in front of us as we take cover behind her great wings. The Cyclonian flagship falters before Her Majesty and I can't help but cackle like a mad man.

"Say hello to my little friend!"

A bottle of nettle juice flies from the ship, striking me on the head. I curse my savior as loud as I can even as cannons bigger than the Condor blast the Cyclonian flagship to bits and teeny pieces. "This is noo taime tae be quotin' bad movies, y'dumb prick!" Gogo yells at me from the window outside his place at the helm, a fresh bottle already in his hand. "We're at wooooor! Death tae all Cycloonians! Yeeaaaaarrrh!" He throws his head back and roars at the top of his lungs, making himself heard loud and clear over the sound of his engines.

Matching yells sound as three tank-like skimmers launch themselves from the Alley's hangars and the rest of the Giants show themselves, blasters flaring and crystals blazing. Shrugging at me, Aerrow joins them with his best imitation of a Wallopian battle-cry. It sounds like an off-tune opera rooster to me, but whatever. Cocking the hammer back on my crossbow, I load something special I have just for occasions like this. Hanging back with a custom gizer crystal Piper made me for my birthday, I scope out a likely target. Around two hundred yards away I see a medium sized carrier ship, home to the squadrons of Talons and their Switchblades just waiting to join the fray. Aiming for the engine duct, I let loose the gizer crystal.

Fireworks.

It erupts like a volcano, flying glass and shards of shrapnel from the hull just as dangerous to friend and foe alike. The Giants are pretty maneuverable on those Hummers of theirs, but I can't say so much for the Talons. They're even lamer than ever, and I wonder where they've been hiding this whole time. We thought we had wiped out the last outpost months ago, and recently the only thing that had been a constant nuisance were unorganized sky bandits.

Taking a cue from Aerrow, I set my Skimmer for a straight course and launch myself from my machine onto that of a nearby Talon's, landing in a three point stance on his wings with a crossbow bolt aimed straight at his face.

"Any last words?" I wanna know, my sights pressed up against the space between his eyes, ready to blow a hole in his head. The only thing is this guy already has a hole in his head. I freeze, looking down at the dead man's hands to see he's still piloting the Switchblade, albeit a bit clumsily.

And then he looks up at me, one eye nothing but a bloody ruin, and the bastard smiles at me before jerking his handlebars to the right, shaking me off him and sending me down towards the Wastelands. I scream, as usual having forgotten to equip my parachute.

"Yiii-aaaaaaaaaaahhhh- UMPH!"

Crumpled with my legs spread over the hood of one of the Giant's skimmers, I whimper as the tears crawl down my face, crotch sending messages of pains to my brain center. "Oooh, Mommy," I say, slamming my forehead against the hood and hanging on for dear life. The wallop flying gives a big laugh and judging by the soprano quality of the voice, it's a girl.

"I'm not your mommy, hun," she tells me. "Sorry to break the news. And do you plan on hitching a ride this whole battle, freeloader?"

"Urgh, well then just drop me off at my Skimmer, Oka-ahhhh!"

I find myself flying through the air, thrust off again only this time I land safely on the cushioned seat of my skimmer. "Thanks, Big Momma!" I yell upwards at the Wallop.

"The name's Mudkip, blondie!" she shouts back before zooming off.

A little big-boned for my taste, but hey, the lady can fly. Ok, well maybe six-feet-tall two hundred pound ladies can't really be defined as just being big-boned, but still. Following her for the protection she offers, I snipe out far-ranged targets that get by her huge smashin' hammer. After a while we join up with our respective squadrons, though right now the only squadron I have is Aerrow since Junko went off with that Rave chick to go and find where the Condor is.

"You know, I really wish we had this kind of help back when we weren't so famous," I tell Aerrow, watching the carnage with something akin to awe. The Sky Knight winks at me, hovering close enough to my damaged Skimmer that he can reach out and pat me on the back.

"Then we wouldn't have had all that fun. Remember?"

And yeah. Now that I think about it… I do remember. Grinning back at him, I slam my palm against his back too, locking us together in flight.

"Well ain't that cute," another Wallop says. "Are all you Storm Hawks so touchy-feely?"

"Um…" I let my arm drop suddenly, hovering a little farther from Aerrow. "Well, sort of, I guess."

Aerrow's face sports a cat-like grin, telling me that he's thinking of nothing but trouble. Before I can escape he catches me by the arm, trapping me there at his side. "Finn's been officially dubbed my baby brother ever since we were kids, of course I spoil him!" he says and draws even closer, trapping me in a big hug that almost has our Skimmer crashing into each other. He delivers a noogie to my head, pulling savagely at my blonde hair. "Right baby brother? Huh? Who loves you?"

"Aaargh!" I try to wrestle myself free. "Cut it out, you freak!"

"I do!" Aerrow answers his own question. "I love you thiiiiiiis much!" He lets me go only to spread his arms out to demonstrate how much he loves me, grinning devilishly all the while.

My retort is cut off by a rumbling, crashing sound outside the battle. We all stop to turn our skimmer in the direction of the explosion, seeing a nearby Sky Shark reef slowly crumbling to the ground. I swallow a lump in my throat, suddenly nervous though I don't know why.

"What was that?" a wallop hovering next to Mudkip asks. It's a little startling to see he has the same face she does- probably her brother or some other close relative. On his huge tank of a Skimmer (a customized Hummer-type with extra cannons) is his name in gilded gold letters: Mukden.

"I dunno, Mukky," Mudkip says, "But that's the same way Rave went off. You know how that girl loves makin' things go boom."

And then we spot it at the same time- me and Aerrow, eyes focused on a glittering mass that falls with the boulders and the scorched Sky Shark carcasses. The Condor in all her glory is falling, a huge gash in her side where the side engine used to be. Falling, falling, and with no sign of her trying to pull up. "What the hell is Stork doing? The other engines aren't even online! The Condor is completely dead!"

"Stork!" I yell in a panic, and Aerrow yells with me only he says, "Piper!" and we both rev up our motors at full power, thrusters pushing us forward but not fast enough, not fast enough, and the Condor falls under the cloud line… into the Wastelands.

OoOoOo

Rave.

Surprisingly, I'm as alive as I'm gonna be. Staring up at the clouds with the stench of sulfur and brimstone clogging up my nostrils, I cough and sit up straight, glorious pain arcing through my body. Cyclonian training often took place beneath the cloud line, so I can tell by the faint light streaming through breaks in the dust that I'd only been out cold for fifteen minutes at best.

The force of the collision must have launched me from the opening in the ship that the bomb ripped out. Somehow I get to my feet, slingshot loaded and in my hands even though my kneecaps were mysteriously replaced with jelly. Or perhaps jam. Yum, I hope it's grape flavored.

….

Resisting the urge to slap myself, I hobble quickly over to the wreckage of the Condor. I hope I'm not the only survivor- But how could I be the only one? Those Storm Hawks are tough enough to have survived this long against my former squadron members, strong enough to destroy the bane of my life forever. I couldn't have made it out alone when these living legends were brought down by something I created. Damn those Cyclonians for haunting me even now that they're supposed to be all dead!

A roar behind me wipes all altruistic and/or vengeful thoughts I might have had. Whirling around on screaming muscles, I send a shower of crystal pellets at the magma worm rearing its head out of the pit of lava we had unfortunately crashed by. I step backwards towards the shelter the Condor provides, slinging stones all the while as the magma worm shrieks at me in agitation, my crystals just so meager when compared to its cracked volcanic rock-skin. It writhes forward on its many millipede feet, jaw snapping in an insatiable hunger for tasty little tiger girls like me. I trip backwards over the jagged sharp opening to the Condor, slicing open my leg and sending the worm wild at the scent. Oh, snap. My last-resort crystal is in my pouch, and now seems a time for last resorts. Getting up again, I pull back the leather strap as far back as she'll stretch, waiting for the worm to get so close there's no way I could miss. Steeling myself against the fear, my soldier training takes over and I am nothing, I am empty, I am my slingshot, I am a weapon to be used by Master Death.

The worm lunges, jaws wide. I shoot into the opening, a freezer crystal that takes it over from the inside out and I'm left with a realistic ice sculpture of a magma worm. Tilting my head sideways curiously at my creation, merely inches from my face, I smile to see that it's melting in the heat of the Wastelands. Soon all that's left is a puddle and I resume my search for bodies.

I find them- the Storm Hawks- sprawled out on the floor of what used to be the bridge.

Piper rises first, rubbing at her head and looking like shit. She's covered in wounds from head to toe, from the nicks on her forehead to the gash on her shoulder and the bruises on every exposed patch of skin I can see. A crash of metal being shoved aside- Junko looms upwards from the wreckage, Stork's body slung over his shoulder. He regards me from behind a mess of shaggy green hair, stomping through broken glass and chunks of curling red-hot metal like green grass in the summer.

"You girls all right?" the Wallop asks, rumbling voice pleasant even now. Stork groans once and he gently pats the Merb on the back. "There, there, Stork. You'll be fine."

"Whadidahdrinkatthapartylassnigh?" Stork slurs, head lolling from side to side as if he really were drunk. "Ohyee, musta been v-v-vokda. God, Olive, you shouldna done tha'."

"You mean vodka," Junko corrects him, cheerfully oblivious.

"Tha' too."

"What's the status of the Condor?" Piper asks me, perhaps noting that I had been the first one awake. She stumbles, props herself up against the wall, and grins at me. "And while you're at it, what kind of sucky bombs did you make for the Cyclonians? I've known mosquitoes with more bite."

I let loose a shuddering breath. "Ya damn cocky kids! You must think you're immortal or somethin'!" I snap at her to hide my irritation at my invention being so easily set aside. Then I realize- hell! I just inadvertently knocked out the Condor! What's she being so smug about? Then a double realization- knocking out the Condor and it's crew wasn't exactly something to be proud of for a Cyclonian-hating chick like me.

Junko grins at me, gently setting Stork down on the floor where he can rest. "You don't believe in carpet deism?" he asks me.

"It's Carpe Diem, yo-you imba- imbecimal- im- idiot." Stork's eyelids flutter open and closed just long enough to correct the Wallop.

"Besides, you're not much older than us," Piper says, matter-of-fact. "And you were right there with us waiting for a bomb to go off in your face."

"That's besides the point!"

The two of them look at me, incredulous as Stork begins to whimper about infections and rotting limbs and various other diseases I'd only seen mentioned once in some of the more forbidden books at the Talon Academy. "I'm gonna see if I can't find any Merlop," Piper says at last, limping past me to the mostly undamaged other side of the ship. "I feel bad relying on it so much," she admits to me when she returns with a large purple bloom in her hands. My nose twitches and I sneeze three times in a row when she snaps off a petal. Covering my face, I turn away, crinkling my face in disgust. "Ugh!" I tell her. "It smells like you showered this room in perfume! What is that thing?"

"I don't smell anything…" Junko inhales deeply through his nose a few times, looking all over for anything that might be a source of smell. It's only then that I notice Piper is chewing on the flower, and like magic all of her bruises just… shrink. She stands erect now, stride unhampered by pain or torn muscles as she goes to Stork and kneels next to him, pressing a petal through his slack lips. His eyes open and focus on her, pupils dilating and widening without any respect for the light in the room.

"Eat it, Stork," she tells him, and my ears can't help but perk up at the nurturing, motherly tone in her voice. Stork mumbles something like a protest and she smiles at him, sardonic and exasperated and… Oddly smitten, if I'm not blind. And then she bends down, grabbing his face to angle it towards hers and kisses him on the lips, cementing any doubts I might have had. But judging by the way his eyes shoot open and his gasp for air, this was far from a common occurrence.

"…Whoa."

I look over my shoulder to see Finn and Aerrow hovering just outside the chasm my bomb had ripped in the Condor's side. The sounds of the Wastelands- various chunks of tar pits and exploding steam vents along with the snarls and growls of predators- had masked their arrival until now.

Oh snap, I think in pity for Stork because he seems to be unable to voice what's so plainly written on his newly healed face. He sits up, jerking away from her with his green face so dark it seemed almost black- Merbian blushing at its finest. He might have not had ears, they were so firmly pressed back against his skull in fright.

Well, well, well.

I hear a throat clearing. The redhead- Aerrow. "We ah…" Aerrow steps inside, trying to take command of the situation even as Piper sidles as far away from Stork as she can manage. If she's blushing I can't tell, but she sure does seem a lot less cocky than she was a few minutes ago. "We, um, we all seem to be in working order, so why don't we try getting the Condor into the air? This place'll be crawling with monsters if we have any more delays."

"…Yea-a-ah," Junko draws the word out with uncertainty adding to its length, unable to tear his eyes away from Stork, who still sits on the floor like a bomb victim. Well, I mean, he was a bomb victim, but that's besides the point.

And then whatever semblance of attempting to act like nothing had happened is utterly shattered. Finn, stumbling backwards, manages to get over his shock long enough to point one finger directly at Stork and Piper who were very busy trying to look everywhere except each other.

The sharpshooter cackles like a maniac, his head thrown back and his free hand covering eyes filled with tears of laughter.