Nightwing could do no wrong.
At least, that was what the other Cyclonians were BLINDLY thinking.
Notte leaned forward on his skimmer, leading the scouting party towards Gale. So what if the invasion of Saharr had failed. It wasn't Nightwing's idea. It was Notte's. And to err is human. Nightwing ain't human. He's the frigging GOD.
Notte motioned towards the others to land. They skidded onto a small terra, resting for a few minutes. Lark came over and stood next to her cousin.
"You OK?"
"Hmph," he grunted. Her long, blond hair stood out from the others, who normally had brown or black locks. She was very vain about it, brushing it every night, even when they were in the Wastelands. Even when there hadn't been hope.
"I like it here."
Notte was silent for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was cracked with hidden rage. "Do you approve of this invasion?"
"Well, of course. It WAS Nightwing's idea, wasn't it?"
Blind. Of all people, YOU as well? Blind.
Gone was the sense of security. They had LOST.
Nightwing hadn't believed that possible. And to children, for that matter. But, no dwelling on the past. None of that. He reprimanded himself sharply before going back outside. They were on a dusty terra, large enough for everyone to fit. Everyone, and the twenty or so skimmers they had acquired. Notte had taken ten with him, making the grand total thirty. Nightwing was thrilled. Nothing in the world could make him happier. Nothing save...
"Hey!"
"Gaeli."
"Don't be too down. I...made a few bad decisions myself."
"It wasn't just one person. It was all of us. We'll do better next time."
"Of course."
They stood and watched the sun set. Night slid in, a blanket that wrapped herself around the aching world's shoulders. A strangling sense of dark that refused to let go. Deep, mysterious beauty. Nightwing loved the twilight. It made him feel significant. Gave him hope.
Haydon's coughs interrupted the moment, snapping the two minds from a distant and unknowable place.
"Master, Notte has returned."
"Fine. Dismissed," Nightwing said offhandedly. Haydon shuffled away, feet dragging across the ground. Nightwing departed, leaving the sky to its own musings. Notte stood next to his skimmer, dismissing the other men and Lark. He saluted as Nightwing approached. Nightwing acknowledged it with a small nod, tipping his pointed chin towards his armored chest.
"Report," he demanded.
"Gale has low defenses, large amounts of crystal deposits, and good, strong workers. We can do it."
"Positive?" Of course he'd be positive.
"Yes, sir."
"Go."
Notte departed. Nightwing sensed a new battle on the horizon. Smoke rose in the distance. The smoke of war.
The next day, he boarded his skimmer once again.
"TO GALE!"
And the Talons cheered. Gaeli was directly behind him, and he heard her skimmer roar. He took off first, trailing fire red. The sky blared by, a beautiful whorl of blue and white and gold. This time, things would not go wrong. COULD not go wrong. Gale loomed ahead, for the second time. And hopefully, the last time as an independant terra. Nightwing swooped upwards, sword blaring with red light.
"Notte!" he barked.
"ATTACK!" Notte shouted.
The Talons obliged.
Red and blue met in midair as Gale's inhabitants rushed out to meet their attackers. Nightwing looped around the bullets, shooting his own. He jumped onto the nose of his skimmer, leaned back, and fired. Something tingled in his arms. He tried again, this time, jumping. The charge enveloped him, before pulling off and snaking into a powerful ball of twisting enery, which crashed into a house and ripped out the walls. Nightwing grinned and watched as Gaeli held more then her own against the waves of Rebel Ducks. They cut through the air, trailing green and blue energy, blades slicing at the Cyclonians. Notte twirled quickly to dodge cannons, his own guns popping like popcorn, spiking through the air. Nightwing flipped his craft upside down, slicing the wings off of the nearest skimmer. It plummeted to the Wastelands below, rider going with it, leg tangled in the engine. Screaming all the way down. The fight didn't continue long after that, for the man had obviously been the Sky Knight, and the people were in shock at his death. They died easier than they liked to think. Living like heroes. But in the end, gravity didn't care whether you were hero or villain. And flying was only throwing yourself at earth and missing. This man, however, hit a bulls eye.
Nightwing gave one final blast, tearing the roof off of the town hall. The terra quieted as the Cyclonians landed. Two old men walked out to meet them. Nightwing laughed, his chuckle rolling through the air.
"I bring the largest force in Atmos, and all you can muster are two old men?"
"We are the leaders of Free Gale. We refuse to submit to any of your shenanigans."
"Even after I take down your Sky Knight and half his squad? Pathetic. And I would hardly call this terra 'free', seeing as it's MINE." And with that, he blasted both men to kingdom come. The citizens gasped, several sobbing. Nightwing looked upon a young woman who reminded him of his mother. His expression softened as he beckoned to her. She stumbled forward, crying, pleading.
"Please...don't kill me...Please, no..." She tripped, falling to her knees, violet eyes overflowing with water. Black hair trailed with dust.
"Oh, I won't kill you. Look at he," he said. She looked up, chin quivering. The resemblance still stood. A little less elegant...but what else could be expected from foreigners? He smiled, a real grin. Gaeli was looking at her, puzzled look on her face.
"What is your name?"
"Alouette," she whispered.
Lark in French. Nightwing almost gasped, but he held his breath. God, they looked alike.
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen..."
Okay, maybe not EXACTLY alike.
"Go, go along," he said, giving her a small shove. She stood and skidded away, collapsing into the arms of another woman, older, who glared at him with identical violet orbs. Perhaps purple eyes ran in the family. He glared back.
Gaeli strode forward. "What was that about?"
"She reminded me of my mother," he mumbled. Gaeli looked at him sympathetically.
"Oh."
"Hm. C'mon. We have a terra to explore."
They strode down the main road, tall ancient looking buildings watching them with wiser, more knowledgeable eyes. Nightwing glared at them with red orbs.
They camped on the outskirts of the terra. Oh, sure, Nightwing was offered lodging in the town hall. But he refused to become a dictator to his own people. The people he conquered, however, was a whole other matter.
But today was a day for celebrating, and after compiling their supplies into a small storage hut, it was time to, as Gaeli tactfully put it...
"PARTAY!"
Nightwing grudgingly partook in the celebration. The Galians made a wonderful wine, Nightwing had to admit. He must have had one glass too many, because by the time the night was old, he was feeling a tad woozy. He sat down around the campfire, smiling with everyone else. But Alouette's dark face haunted him.
Something that kept him from truly being happy.
Notte stayed away from the celebrations, partaking only in one small cup of wine. He lingered on the edge of the party, watching the people as they walked by, grim expressions on their faces. He himself kept his mouth in a hard, beaky line.
"Keep moving," he barked. Someone had to maintain authority here.
There was a clanking sound. Notte left Lark in charge before walking off to the back of the storage house. A dark shape was hunched and running.
"HEY! STOP!"
The shape moved faster. He bolted after it, drawing his sword, firing at the ground. She was blasted into the air, food and blankets flying. He sped up to her and pressed the blade to her throat. Beads of blood trickled out. He struck a light, and a dark face looked up at him.
A face he'd seen before.
"SIR!"
Morning came with a visitor. Nightwing tore himself from bed and eyed the clock. Six. His head throbbed with pain as he stumbled to his feet.
"What is it?" he mumbled.
"We found a girl trying to steal supplies."
"Show her to me," Nightwing demanded, quickly putting on his armor. He wouldn't look like a leader with a hangover. Just a leader.
"Sir," Notte shouted, forcing a bound and gagged girl ahead of him. "I present to you, our first prisoner of Gale."
"MMMMH! MMMMMH!!"
"And who do we have here?" Nightwing said, tearing the gag away. She spat onto him. He drew back, terrified. And not because of a little spit.
She looked exactly like him.
Black hair. Red eyes. Same face shape. He could've sworn...
"Hah. Look at you," the girl hissed. "The KING of a cowardly empire. Degraded to killing two old men."
"I don't take accusation from thieves," Nightwing said quietly. Rage building up like rain to a flood.
"My family's lying in the mud, starving, while you eat our harvest, drink our wine. And you call me a thief." She spat again, this time on his shoes. "Pathetic." Her face was twisted in so much hate.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Coon. What's it to ya? You're going to kill me, anyways."
"Right you are. But first, some information. Who was your mother?" He bent down so that their eyes met. Hers widened. Perhaps she, too, saw the resemblance.
"Her name was Rose. She died a few years back."
"And your father?" The words trembled as Nightwing asked the question.
At this, Coon grinned. Her teeth showed, white and even. Fire blared behind her blood red eyes. She drew herself close, so that he could smell the sweet smell of her breath, the musky odor of her hair. He gulped as she replied.
"HIS name was Dark Ace. And I believe you are familiar with him?"