Gasolini stormed behind the stage with a scowl set across his jowls. What the hell was wrong with people? This generation was too soft. He'd revealed Ripcord as the coward he was, and still, they loved him. If only he still owned him. It had always been so much easier to make the man do what was good for him when he did.
He paced behind the stage, his mind churning over, bringing curious glances from the sound crew, who were working madly to stream Ripcord's idiot son's vision onto the big screen.
Ripcord would use his considerable teaching skills to help his boy pull off a rescue, and they'd love him all the more. But this was his son… Lunchpail or whatever the hell his name was. Gasolini had seen him fly as a boy. It was a pretty good bet that he would not fair too well without his father's instruction in the touchy mechanical plane. Yeah, it was time to cause a little chaos.
Gasolini whipped out his phone.
"Bomber's doing as instructed," the Beagle Boy, Gasolini had forgotten the punk's name, said on the other end of the line. "But thought you said McQuack'd be too scared to get up there and go after him?"
"It's his idiot son in the plane, not him. So we've got to tweak the plan," said Gasolini. "I need you to cause some chaos on stage - can't have Ripcord telling his son how to get on that plane."
"What? You want me to do something? That wasn't part of the deal!"
Lazy bastard. "Are you really going to complain about getting the chance to punch a smug pretty boy in the face?"
A pause. "Go on."
"Let's let the kid catch up the plane. A real pilot like your brother should have no issue getting him to make a fool of himself. But to do that, I need one of you boys to drop Ripcord McQuack."
"That's it, son, you just need to keep her level. Be gentle. She'll respond."
Launchpad did as instructed, and the tiny aeroplane finally stopped bucking around under his touch. "Okay, Dad. She's a bit more reactive than the Sunchaser, but I've got the hang of it now. And there's nothing up here to crash into, except Mom's plane. Which I'm aiming for anyway!"
Launchpad could see his mother's plane ahead. Now that he'd got the little aeroplane under control, he found he was steadily gaining ground. He was sure the bigger plane could've gone faster. She certainly had when Dad had been flying her. But now, she was puttering lazily along, which suited him just fine.
"Yeah," Ripcord's voice came shakily over the channel, "you're doing it, kid."
"Dad, you okay?"
"I can see what you can with these things, remember? I…" Ripcord's voice was thick. "It's like being up in the Joyrider again. I'm just getting a bit nostalgic here. I'm sorry. I should be the one up there going after your mom."
"Dad, you can't. That's okay. Wait, Mom's plane, it's just slowed down." Launchpad overshot it. "Hang on, I'll slow down." He let back on the throttle. The Joyrider dropped from under him.
"Woah, careful! Go too slow, and you'll stall. Your mom's plane can stop on a dime, but you can't. You got to keep moving. You need to loop around."
Launchpad picked back up speed and felt the aeroplane lift beneath him. He banked back around to the bigger plane.
"Bit more… yeah, you've got it, you're a natural. That's your tight turn…. Use that to keep in line with him if he slows down too much for you."
Launchpad looped around again, then activated the radio. "Hey! Pullover… oh, wait, you're doing that. Um, match my speed because I can't actually stop! Give back my Mom's plane!"
"Launchpad!" Birdie's voice was the one to reply. "What are you… you're in your dad's plane?"
"He couldn't come after you. But I'm here, and he's telling me how to do it. Don't worry, Mom, we'll get back your plane."
She didn't reply, but the plane sped up again, then banked away. Those strange wings kept looping about her body, randomly altering the plane's course. Launchpad banked around to keep up with her. She darted away again.
"Hey! Open up. I want to land!"
"Wait, what?" said Ripcord. "Land where?"
"She's got a cargo bay, right? I need to get on the plane… so I'll land there. Isn't that what I'm up here for?"
"Look, you're doing really well. But that'd have been a hell of a stunt, even for me back in the day. I doubt whoever is flying that thing wants to make it easy for you. I reckon I could do it, but you need a lot of practice and…"
"Yeah, and you're teaching me, right? I've got you here. I can do this; please trust me, Dad. I have crashed in so many places people have told me I can't… and if that's all I need to do, I can do this. I need to get in there to help Mom! But, I need your help."
A pause. "Okay, son. Yeah. We're going to give this our best shot. But you've got to get them to open the door first. I don't completely understand all the material stuff your Mom told me, but try and crash through, and you'll crumple the Joyrider like paper…" Ripcord grunted, there was a loud crack over the line, and then the channel cut off.
"Dad? Dad!" Launchpad tapped at the side of the goggles as hard as he dared without making his head spin. But there was no reply.
He'd ditched him again. He was alone up here. Launchpad drew in a deep breath. No. Of course, he hadn't. Something had gone wrong.
"Dad?" He tried again.
Still no answer.
Launchpad's gaze hardened as he focused on the plane ahead of him. It had slowed its dodging now like it was waiting for him to make a move. Okay, fine. He'd got the feel of the Joyrider. He'd figure this out. Launchpad swooped in low over his mother's plane and looped back around to catch her up as she meandered off in another random direction. "Open your doors, let me in!"
Birdie sat in the back seat of her plane, arms folded, a scowl across her beak. Her plane! She fought down the urge to waltz over and punch Mark Beaks in the face. She wanted to, and getting kidnapped by him seemed the perfect excuse. But then there was the Beagle Boy to contend with. No, she wasn't going to start throwing punches with a criminal here. She had to push down her anger. And, instead, start thinking like an engineer and take back her plane.
"Huh. Gasolini was wrong," said Bomber. "The Joyrider's up in the air. McQuack's following us."
"Wait, the Joyrider? Gasolini's in on this?" Everything slid into place in Birdie's mind. Gasolini. Someone would have to have let these two into the hanger, giving them access to the plane. As to why he'd want Ripcord following them? Gasolini was trying to get some sort of twisted revenge on her husband, using her, and the thought made Birdie's blood boil. Hadn't he hurt him enough already?
And then, the final piece of the puzzle slammed into place. "Ripcord's back in a stunt plane? For me?" Birdie's head spun. It sounded romantic, but it shouldn't have worked like that. She could still remember when he'd finally told her what was going on, why he couldn't get back in the planes. He'd been too ashamed to even look at her. And despite the trouble his career had caused them over the years, seeing him broken like that had been heart-wrenching. How could he have gotten back in one of those things so easily? It didn't make sense.
And then the radio crackled to life. "Hey! Pullover… oh, wait, you're doing that. Um, match my speed because I can't actually stop! Give back my Mom's plane!"
"Launchpad!" Birdie barreled into the console beside Bomber, forgetting her resolve to stay away from the criminal. "What are you… you're in your dad's plane?"
"He couldn't come after you. But I'm here, and he's telling me how to do it. Don't worry, Mom, we'll get back your plane!"
"Alright, lady, sit back down," Bomber said with a growl. "I don't want you causing any trouble. You got it?"
Birdie raised her hands and backed away. "You got it." And then she added under her breath: "you stupid lout." She sat back down and pulled her tablet towards her.
Mark Beaks tapped away on the console, downloading her program. Just the damned program! She'd worked so hard on the plane itself, and he was just throwing it away. And then the program would be next to useless too. Well, she was going to show them both. She still had access through the tablet. And hopefully, Beaks was too distracted to notice.
Birdie's hands flew over the tablet. The plane sagged like all its power had been sapped.
"Hey, my download!" Mark Beaks squeaked.
It wouldn't take him long to figure it out. But Birdie just needed a few more seconds. She locked the plane's power down to 5 per cent, shut out the autopilot, shut out all of the assistant systems. If Bomber was any kind of pilot, he would still be able to fly. But he'd have to do it manually, and it wouldn't be fast. That would give Launchpad both a chance to catch up and also not give Bomber many options that could really hurt her son.
"What kind of dodgy…" Bomber wrestled with the control yoke then slammed a hand on the console. "What a piece of crap! This plane is useless!"
Birdie shrugged. "Hey, it is a prototype."
"You idiot," said Mark Beaks as he restarted his download. Which, unfortunately, Birdie could not lock out. "She's locked up the plane's systems on that tablet of hers. But doesn't matter. I've still got the program downloading. So all you've got to do is stop that guy getting on this plane."
"Well, then you stop whatever she's doing. This thing's systems are complicated enough without someone messing with them when I'm trying to fly."
"What? She's all the way over there. Flying is your job."
Bomber stood up with a snarl. "You think you're so smart." He marched over, not for Mark Beaks, but for her. Crap.
He grabbed Birdie up by the wrist and squeezed. She yelped. Something cracked, and she dropped the tablet. Bomber stomped a boot into it, crushing it into the decking. Then he dropped her back in her chair.
Birdie cradled her wrist and drilled a death glare into the Beagle through the tears in her eyes.
"There, I did something. Now it's your job to stop her doing anything more," Bomber snapped at Mark Beaks. He sat back down in the pilot's seat. "I don't need speed to keep this boy out. And if he causes me as much trouble as you have, I'm going to take him down."
Ripcord stumbled back, dazed, as the goggles fell from his face. For a brief moment, he was unable to rectify the sudden shift from the view through the windshield of the Joyrider.
"You idiot, you should've hit him harder!"
"That was hard!"
The stage came into focus as Ripcord regained his footing, hand to his head. Standing right in the middle of it, surrounding him, were three Beagle Boys.
"Grab it!" One of them pointed to the floor. The goggles. Launchpad. Launchpad was all alone up there now. Ripcord had promised him he'd be there for him, that he would not abandon him.
He lunged for the goggles. Another Beagle grabbed him by the arm, roughly. How many of them were there? Ripcord slammed a fist into the burly Beagle Boy and ripped free, but another had already scooped up the goggles.
"Bigtime, I gots it…"
"I'll take that!" Dewey snatched the goggles right out of his hands, climbing on the Beagle's shoulder, and waved his catch triumphantly.
"Run, kid!"
Dewey yelped and leapt off the Beagle Boy just as two others slammed into their brother and pinned him to the floor under their weight.
Ripcord grabbed the Beagle who'd grabbed him, stopping him from chasing after Dewey. Then two of them got on him from behind. One grabbed each arm, wresting them back and opening him up to the big Beagle in front of him. The Beagle grinned triumphantly and drew his fist back, winding her right up with the confidence of someone who knew their target had been rendered defenceless. Crap. Ripcord braced himself.
A blur of purple darted between them and slammed a shoulder into the Beagle. She flung him across the stage, using her spear like a lever. The Moonlander who'd helped Launchpad get up here in the first place.
Ripcord felt the grip on his arms loosen, and he wrested free.
Dewey dashed past, yelling, a Beagle Boy on his tail. The Beagle was focused on nothing but the boy with the object he wanted. Ripcord threw out an arm and coat-hangered him as he ran past full tilt.
Ripcord spun around, then slammed back into something solid, like rock.
"Hey, I'm on your side."
"You're Launchpad's friend," said Ripcord as he and the Moonlander circled back to back.
"Penumbra."
"Penum…."
She sighed. "Penny. Don't worry. I've got your back."
"I need to get those goggles back. Launchpad needs me. He knows how to fly but…"
Penny yelled as she thrust her spear at a Beagle Boy that had encroached too close. "… but he needs a little encouragement?"
"Yeah. How…"
"Your son is one of the most courageous people I know. But he doesn't always see that. He falters, and… his self-esteem isn't the best. You're his parent? I guess that means you're responsible for that?"
Ripcord winced. Penny didn't pull any punches, and not just with the Beagle Boys. "Yeah. Pretty much. I promised I'd change. But I need those goggles back. I'm not leaving him up there all alone." Ripcord slammed a fist into a Beagle's face.
He slumped down on the stage, unconscious on the spot, to the crowd's roar.
"Got it. Dewey!" said Penny. "Bring those goggles!"
"Working on it!" Dewey dashed across the stage and skidded to a halt as a Beagle Boy leapt up from the crowd. He almost slammed into him, and the Boy grabbed him by the shirt collar.
"Got ya…"
"Don't touch my son!" Della leapt on the Beagle's back, hands digging into his throat. He screamed and dropped Dewey back on the stage.
Dewey got up like nothing had happened and ran the other way, continuing to yell, like that was making him run faster or something.
Loopey and Brett leapt up on the stage beside Della. "Dad! Someone locked us in the hanger. What the hell is going on?"
"They've got your Mom's plane!" Ripcord shouted back. "And your Mom. Launchpad's gone up after them by himself."
"Then we'll go help him! Come on, Brett!"
"Dewey?" said Della. "You okay, sweetie? I think I can help by going up in a plane after Launchpad."
"Go, Mom! I've got this… more or less!" Dewey made a dash for Ripcord, but a Beagle Boy got in the way, and he darted the other way.
"Keep moving, kid," said Ripcord. "I think we can take these guys."
"Think?" said Penny. And she sent one sailing off, yowling, into the crowd.
"Open the doors and let me in!" Her son's voice came over the radio, yet again.
"You've got to be kidding," Bomber growled, anger in his voice. The sluggish movement of the plane was not helping his mood. He was jerking the plane around angrily, but even as Birdie waited, heart hammering in her chest, Launchpad would dart past the windshield to a snarl of frustration from Bomber. Birdie grinned. Launchpad was giving him hell.
He had made what he wanted from Bomber abundantly clear. Birdie glanced at Mark Beaks, then at the manual door release at the back of the cargo bay.
"Come on!" Bomber swung the plane to the side. "How is that little flea staying on me?!"
It was probably distracting him enough. Well, what the hell. She'd gotten herself in enough trouble already. Birdie dove for the back of the plane and threw the manual release. She grabbed a handhold as a rush of air whooshed from the plane.
"What the hell?" said Bomber, half getting up. "I told you…"
The buzz of the Joyrider darted past behind them. "Son of a…" Bomber jumped back in his seat and moved them sideways. "Beaks! Do something about her!"
"What?"
"Mark Beaks, if you touch me, I'll kick your ass!"
"Um, sorry, got to babysit this download!"
"Do I have to do everything myself?" Bomber's hands moved over the controls. The plane slowed, but behind the bay doors, the wings sliced past in an arc, slowed, then rocked back down. Bomber continued to move them, not to affect the plane's movement but to create a swinging guillotine of blunt metal across the opening. "Let's see him get through that!"
"Dad? The cargo bay is open." Still no reply. His father was there. Somewhere. Something had to be wrong.
Launchpad circled around. Surely he could line himself up. And then the big plane slowed right down, and the wings began to rotate about its big fat central body. The rear bay doors may have been open. But now, every few seconds, they were cut off by a slowly swinging gate of metal. Launchpad circled around in a loop, unable to slow down enough to keep a steady pace with the more manoeuvrable plane, and gritted his teeth.
He could crash his way into that, sure. But he had to crash past it, get inside; otherwise, he couldn't help Mom.
"Launchpad!" his father's strained voice finally punched through the radio. "I'm here! I'm sorry, I know I promised not to bail on you, and I did, and…"
"Dad, it's okay. Are you alright? What happened?"
"Argh. Nothing important, forget it. I'm here now, and… what the heck?"
"Dad, I'm going to fly into the cargo bay."
"You… what the hell is he doing with those wings? Launchpad, that's going to take split-second timing and… look, I'm a good teacher. But by the time I tell you to go, I'm not sure we'll be able to coordinate it and…"
So he was on his own? Only he wasn't. Not really. Launchpad gritted his teeth. "It's okay, Dad. I just needed you to help me get this thing up into the air and get the hang of flying it. I can figure out how to crash it on my own. Don't worry, I've got this." Launchpad accelerated and began to loop around the big plane.
"Wait, Launchpad! Even I would have trouble with that, and you've only just… " His father's words trailed off, and he again fell silent.
His father's silence had frightened him when he'd been sixteen. But now, Launchpad knew precisely what he was doing.
"You said you pulled a double loop, Dad? Well, I'll do a triple loop… or however many it takes. You know, like when you do a three-point turn, but sometimes you gotta do more than three until you get it right!" And he spun the little biplane around, circling his mother's plane, tighter and tighter. Forget those stupid wings. The pilot could swing them around all he wanted. Launchpad may have only known how to crash. But he damned well knew how to time one too.
Between Penny, the security guards, and a few crowd members, they'd managed to grab the Beagle Boys and get them off the stage. Dewey had slapped the goggles into Ripcord's hands, and he'd slapped them onto his head, calling out to his son even before he'd settled the damn things in place.
And Launchpad had told him his plan. If it could even be called that. At first, Ripcord had wondered what his son had been trying to pull. He couldn't seriously think he could get the Joyrider through those things.
"You said you pulled a double loop, Dad? Well, I'll do a triple loop… or however many it takes. You know, like when you do a three-point turn, but sometimes you gotta do more than three until you get it right!" And then Launchpad accelerated and began to hem the big plane in with ever-tightening loops.
Ripcord stumbled back as the sky and plane twisted around in his vision, putting him off balance. Someone strong grabbed him by the arm and steadied him. And then Ripcord froze.
Because he was back in the cockpit of the Joyrider. Pulling a ridiculously crazy series of loops.
And he wasn't afraid.
The crowd gasped. The video crew had gotten into the goggle's feed and were streaming it directly to the big screen. They, too, were watching Launchpad belt out the ridiculous stunt.
Launchpad's loops were tight, dangerously close. Each pass brought him swinging past the bay doors, and each time the wings blocked him, he pulled away and brought himself in for another loop. Again and again and again.
Ripcord gritted his teeth as tears squeezed from his eyes, past the edges of the goggles and down his beak. "That's it, son, you've got this."
And then, in the next pass, the pivoting wings swung away, leaving access to the bay door open wide. Launchpad darted the Joyrider inside.
Launchpad darted in through the open doors, clearing the spinning wings. Now how was he going to slow-
Something slapped the Joyrider's tail sideways. The biplane slammed into the wall, bounced across the cargo bay, then a wheel gave out, and she crumpled onto her belly. Launchpad leapt out, not in the least perturbed. Another perfect crash.
"Mom!"
"Here, sweetheart!" Birdie called. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah!"
"Can you get the brute flying the plane off the controls? I can deal with Mark Beaks."
"Got it!"
Launchpad moved across the cargo bay. The big Beagle Boy at the controls looked over his shoulder. "The hell did you fly that into here?"
"Get off my Mom's plane!" Launchpad grabbed the Beagle's shoulder and hauled him back.
"Bomber, help…" Mark Beaks just plain ran away from his console. Birdie slipped into the seat he had vacated and shut the download off one-handed.
Bomber grinned. "Just give me a sec." He leapt from the pilot's chair, letting the momentum Launchpad had given him pull him back, whirled around and threw a punch.
Launchpad slapped it away with a tightened fist and then put up his guard, hemming himself in as Bomber slammed heavy punches into him. He gritted his teeth. The guy was big and could throw a punch. Both fast and hard.
Bomber finally slowed a little. Launchpad saw his opening and hit back. His punches slammed into Bomber's guard as he too buckled down. Behind his raised fists, the Beagle grinned. "I'm going to snap you, just like I snapped your mother's wrist!"
"What!" Launchpad drew back his fist, opening wide to wind up. How dare he-
Bomber slammed a fist up into his jaw. Launchpad saw stars. The smack of the deck into his back brought him back as he skidded across the floor. Bomber leapt at him, and Launchpad's head just stopped spinning quickly enough for him to get his leg between them and launch him over the top.
Bomber got up with a grunt. Launchpad was already on his feet. He ploughed into Bomber, got past his arms, then got his arms around his waist. He hefted the Beagle up and slammed his back into the ground in a ground pound, forcing the Beagle's weight down on him and all of Launchpad's too. Bomber's head slammed into the metal with a ring, and he slumped back. Launchpad's raised his fist, breathing heavily.
"Stop… have back… the stupid plane…"
Launchpad grabbed Bomber by the collar and hauled him to the back of the plane. Still dazed, Bomber stumbled along compliantly until they got to the rear bay doors, and he realised what was happening. "Wait… wait, I'm sorry. You can't."
Launchpad grabbed the single parachute off the side of the door and thrust it into the Beagle's chest. "Here. Now get off my Mom's plane!" He booted Bomber in the middle and sent him sailing out of the doors. A few seconds later, the poof of a parachute unfurled below and behind them.
Launchpad drew in a few breaths, steadying himself. Then turned and rushed back across the cargo bay to put a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Mom, are you okay?"
Birdie's eyes were focused on the screen in front of her. Even one-handed, she deftly operated the keyboard, but it only seemed to cause her frustration. "What did you do, Mark? Everything's locked out!"
"Don't look at me! You shut everything down."
"You've been fiddling around in here, and it's messed everything up!"
"Mom…"
Birdie finally looked up at Launchpad as he took the hand she was favouring and cradled it gently. She winced. "I'm okay, Launchpad. Launchpad… how'd you even get in here? Is that your father's plane?"
"He couldn't fly it up here himself. He's told me why; he told me everything. But he ran me through how to fly it so I could come after you."
Birdie got up and put her arms around him. "Thanks, sweetheart." She pushed him back. "Now, we've got to land this thing. You'll have to do it manually like your father's been doing. I'm afraid Mark's gone and taken out all the autopilot systems."
"I did not! And actually…"
"Maybe you should do it, Mom. I just saved your plane. I don't want to scratch it when I crash."
"Crash? You don't have to crash it."
"I don't know how to land properly," Launchpad lowered his gaze. "Crash is all I know how to do. I mean, I'd do my best…"
"Um, guys?" said Mark.
"Oh, Launchpad," Birdie put her hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. "Guess you're going to have to crash it then. I can't land with my wrist like this. A few dents won't really matter…"
"Um, hello!" said Mark, raising his voice. "I have something important to say. I don't think we should crash."
Launchpad rolled his eyes. "Relax, I'm a professional. I've crashed thousands of times."
"We meant to download the programming and then bail, and then I would blow up your plane over the ocean…"
"You what?!"
"We strapped explosives on its belly. If we land now, we can probably disarm them. But I would assume that crashing or landing heavily might set them off."
"Seriously?!" Birdie moved for him, and Mark darted back, hands raised. "The programs only designed for this plane! It's not even the main component. Did you think you could strap it to some stupid drone or something, and it'd work the same! I put 90% of my time into this thing's aerodynamics and…"
"Mom!" Launchpad felt his head spinning. "Mom, I cannot land. I don't know how. You have to try, I can't do this, I can't…"
Birdie stopped mid-rant and grasped his hands. "Okay, sweetheart. Look at me. You're going to have to, okay? You said your dad was teaching you how to get up in his plane?"
Launchpad nodded. "He was using your goggles to talk to me."
"Okay, where are they?"
"Back in the… I took them off when I got out of the Joyrider."
They retrieved them. Launchpad got into the pilot's seat, Birdie at his shoulder, and slipped them on.
"Launchpad, Launchpad, are you okay?" His father's words immediately came through.
"I'm fine, Dad."
"Thank god. We lost the feed… did you actually get in past that thing, son? That was amazing! I can't…"
"Ripcord," Birdie leaned in close. "Launchpad needs your help. We need to land this plane." She quickly explained about the explosives.
"Right. Bring her around, back to the airfield. We'll use the big landing strip up the back away from everyone in case… You know…"
Launchpad gulped and followed his father's instructions. Turning the plane around was the easy part. "Dad, I don't know how to land a plane. And people have tried to teach me. But I… I don't think I can."
"Aw, son, I'm sorry. I hear you, and I wouldn't push any of my pilots to do something they were this worried about straight up, so quick, but… it doesn't sound like you've got much choice. So here's what I want you to do. Just listen to what I tell you. You know how to operate a plane. This one, she can respond much like your Sunchaser, so we're going to do a normal landing, just like you'd be used to landing her."
"I haven't landed the Sunchaser, not properly."
"I hear you, and that's okay. You know how to operate her, though, yeah?"
"Yeah, Dad."
"You don't worry about the landing, or the explosives, or anything. You just operate those controls exactly how I tell you to. Listen to my voice. I'm going to be with you the whole way. Can you do that?"
"You… you won't bail on me?"
"No, son."
Birdie squeezed his shoulder. "I'm here too, Launchpad."
The radio crackled to life. "Launchpad! We'll follow you in." Loopey pulled up beside them in her plane, along with a couple of the other stunt planes.
"Okay…" Launchpad grasped the control yoke. How was he supposed to not overthink this? And then his father spoke.
"Okay, Launchpad, this is what I want you to do…" And as he focused on his father's voice, it became easy.
Launchpad angled towards the runway. The stunt planes were flying beside him, escorting him in, but he focused on the controls and the looming runway, even though it made everything twist up in his guts. He'd done everything his father had told him for the approach.
"Easy, son, pull back on the power, just drop her a little until your wheels touch."
Launchpad kept his head up so his dad could see the runway through the windshield, but he looked down at the controls, listened to his dad, and did what he told him. The plane let out the faintest bump as the wheels touched down. Planes aren't supposed to land that lightly, his head screamed at him. You gotta make more of a thump!
"There you go, keep her aligned on the centre and keep slowing down," said Ripcord.
Launchpad listened to that instead.
They slowed, Birdie's hand gripping his shoulder, slower, slower, and at the last moment, the nose pulled away from the center of the runway.
"Dad!"
"It's okay!" And he actually laughed.
The plane pulled up, its nose slightly off the edge of the runway, the plane angled across it. A faint bump passed through the plane as they nosed into the grass at the edge.
Launchpad slowly took his hands off the control yoke, shaking a bit. He was pretty sure they were supposed to stay on the runway. But… "Did I… is this still technically a crash?"
"Um, if you don't mind," said Mark Beaks. "I might just go and turn off that bomb."
Birdie leaned over the console. She opened the rear bay doors and then started flicking switches and shutting down all the systems.
Launchpad watched her numbly. If he was going to fling the plane into anything, he certainly couldn't now. They were down. It was over and… "Mom?"
"Oh, baby," Birdie wrapped her arms around him. "Are you okay? You're white as a sheet. It's okay. We're safe. You landed the plane."
"But I…" Launchpad's head spun. This didn't make sense. "I just… I can't… I just crash. I… how can we be okay? Mom, I'm just… I'm a little confused right now."
Birdie took his hands. "Launchpad, look at me. I'm not sure what's going on. But we're safe. You did it. And… hey, whatever this is, me and your dad will help you work through it, okay?"
Launchpad nodded.
Birdie grasped the headset. "Rip? You there?"
"You're… you're both okay?" Ripcord's voice cracked.
"We're fine. How about you?"
Launchpad found his voice. "Did I do okay?"
"Okay, okay? You did those freaking awesome loop, and you… you got your Mom and… and then you… Launchpad, you landed a plane! I'm so fucking proud of you I'm about to explode!"
"Honey," said Birdie, grinning. "Remember you're on stage."
"Oh, right!" The radio crackled. "Ladies and gentlemen, my son just landed a fucking plane! Did you see that?! Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go hug him."
"I… landed a plane." Launchpad turned the words over, then grinned. "Mom, I landed a plane!"
"I know, sweetheart."
Launchpad threw his arms around her, lifting her up off the floor.
The radio crackled behind them.
"Go, big bro," said Loopey.
"Seriously… you did it!" said Della. "Think your dad would teach Dewey?"
"What I think my fans really want to know," said his interviewer, "is how everyone is reacting to what Gasolini did to you up on stage. And, of course, your revelation about why you stopped flying stunt planes?"
Ripcord leaned back in his seat and smirked. "Oh yeah, some people seem to be a bit mad about that. But, interestingly enough, none seem game enough to say it to my face. Except for Gasolini, of course."
"Hey, from what I'm seeing online, he's copping much more of a hammering than you are."
"Good. It's about time he had to deal with some of his behaviour being out in the open. But I can't say I want to waste my time looking at that garbage. I've been spending time with my son, who may I remind you, both landed a plane for the first time, and pulled… like how many was it… six loops around a state of the art jet and landed inside it! How cool is that!"
"It's so freaking cool! Launchpad is such a good pilot!"
"There, see! I knew you'd get what the most important thing here was - that my son is an awesome pilot and how proud I am of him. I guess I made the right decision agreeing to be interviewed by his best friend, huh?"
Dewey spun to face the camera. "That's right, folks! Ripcord McQuack is being interviewed exclusively by Dewey Dewnight! Live and wait… what's that?"
"What's what?" Ripcord leaned in beside Dewey to peer at the computer screen.
"That number… beside the like button?" Dewey's eyes widened.
"Er, well, you're the expert," Ripcord shrugged. "But I'm guessing how many people are watching and liking this?"
"But why are there so many digits?!" Dewey's jaw slowly dropped.
Ripcord slapped a hand on his back. "Because, kid, you've got an exclusive interview with Ripcord McQuack." And he turned to the camera and winked.
The numbers skyrocketed. Dewey, eyes wide, jaw hanging open, slowly toppled off his chair.
"Woah, kid, you okay? I… okay, just breathe. I think the internet is still watching!"
A/n: Alright, I'm done. Hope you guys enjoyed it and thanks for reading.