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Mission No. 51

Zoness
District 13

"Azure Sky"

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It was a rare bright day in the floating city. The skies were far from clear, but for once the planet's teal green revealed itself unabashedly through the clouds. Not letting the day go to waste, Falco and Katt took the afternoon off from their respective work. They left the garage guarded by the rest of the Free Birds to take a walk around the North End. The air quality was remarkably clean as well, so the pair let their filtration masks hang around their necks, breathing freely. Never mind that either of them would be easily recognized without the masks; Falco felt like nothing could stop him that day.

They walked down familiar streets, fondly recounting old memories and pointing out corners, alleys, and shops that served as their teenage haunts. For a moment, it felt like none of their problems existed. Katt even felt brave enough to take Falco's wing in her paw. The act surprised him at first, but he was thankful and enjoyed the contact of her hand. While subtle, it was rare for her to show him any public display of affection, but today was an exceptional day.

Suddenly Falco sensed fear in the air, and he tensed. His grip tightened around Katt's paw, and he swiveled his head back and forth, looking for the source of danger.

"What is it?" Katt whispered with a tinge of worry.

"Dunno. Just a funny feeling; like I'm anxious all of a sudden, and I don't know why. I certainly don't got a reason to be…"

Katt narrowed her eyes. "Falco, did you seriously take a dose before our walk?"

"No, of course not! At least, not since last night," he admitted. "But you're right; it does feel like that sixth sense or somethin'—like I'm feeling someone else's fear."

The feline sighed. "You've been taking it too often. We should've realized Corruption might have lingering effects, and now people all over District 13 are going to get these weird phantom pains of yours—"

"Shh! I think I can find where it's coming from…"

They stopped on the sidewalk next to a grocery store; it was open, but the owner was nowhere in sight. While Falco poked his head suspiciously around, Katt sighed and leaned up against the wall, crossing her arms. "Is it really any of our business?"

Ignoring her, Falco followed his own intuition and kept searching. "I remember this store; I used to swipe fruits from the stands when the owner wasn't lookin'. He was never able to catch me when I was younger. Wonder if he's still around…"

His "sixth sense" hadn't misled him, for noises came from the alley on the other side of the grocery store: a threatening, raspy voice, and a pleading, older one that tried to interrupt it. Falco crouched behind an overflowing dumpster and poked his head around the corner to get a better view.

Two figures towered over an old man in a green apron, whose back they had against the wall. One was a hulking, ruddy-scaled iguana: Grimmer's younger brother, Dimmer. The other was a stoat lackey, who only stood taller than the poor man because they had their victim cowering beneath them.

Katt knelt behind the dumpster as well, keeping her ears folded down as she poked her head over the top. "Wow… Corruption really does work like that. Geez!"

"And that's bad because… why again?"

She smirked. "Because you're better at sniffing out trouble than anyone! The last thing you need is a drug that leads you straight to it like a metal detector!"

"Shhh! Let's see what this is about…"

While the weasel cracked his knuckles, Dimmer set his foot against the wall and bent over the unfortunate grocer. "Listen geezer, I'm just looking out for your safety is all. You need someone like me around to give ya protection. Bureau ain't gonna do that for ya, now are they?"

From the way the old hedgehog dug his paws into the bricks behind him, it looked like he wanted to phase right through and escape the alley. "But D-D-Dimmer, it's impossible keeping my store stocked! Fresh produce is expensive and hard to find as-is, and if I keep letting you and your friends take whatever you want I'll be out of my whole—"

Dimmer gave the man a back-handed slap, silencing him. "Quit yer yappin'. Be grateful we ask such a low price for our services. If you don't want to end up lookin' like your rotten tomatoes, you'll stop complainin'. Or do me and Squiz have to teach ya a lesson?"

"Yeah, I've heard enough," Falco whispered to Katt. "I'm going in." He stood up from behind cover, but Katt just as quickly grabbed his arm and jerked him back down.

"No!" she hissed, "if you get into a fight you'll just escalate things! Especially if it's Grimmer's own brother!"

"Things have already escalated. I didn't go up against Grimmer just to sell drugs; I did it for people like that grocer, and I'll be damned if I let them bully anyone else."

"They'll… they'll probably just let him go if he agrees to their demands!"

Falco's expression fell, realizing that same thinking was why she submitted to Grimmer. "…Then you should wait here. I don't want to get you in trouble with Grimmer, Katt."

"But—!"

Falco launched to his feet and pivoted around the dumpster into the alley. Katt stood up as well and rushed to his side, surprising him.

"Katt?! But if Dimmer sees you with me, he'll tell—"

"Let 'em find out. What happens will happen. If Grimmer tosses me away as a result… that'll just make kicking Allusion easier. Besides, I'm not about to let you get creamed in a fight like it's your deathwish."

"Thanks. I appreciate the help—but maybe not the sentiment."

"Well that 'sentiment' is about to kick their asses for you."

Their voices and footfalls in the puddle-strewn alley alerted their enemies. Dimmer let go of the hedgehog's wrinkled neck and turned to meet them with his lackey. "Well, Lombardi and… Ms. Monroe?" He glanced between them, a little surprised—until a smug look settled over his snout. "Heh, I shoulda known you couldn't keep away from your old tail."

The weasel balled his fist up and thrust it into his palm. When he spoke, his voice was comically-squeaky in comparison to Dimmer's. "The boss is gonna be real pissed to hear you're sleepin' with this loser of a pheasant!"

"Let the geezer go, Dimmer," Falco said, planting his feet. "You don't have a right to his food."

Dimmer bugged his eyes in mock surprise. "Excuse me? Since when does Falco Lombardi own the North End? Not since he flew the coop with his tail feathers tucked between his chicken legs years ago! You gotta be real desperate for tail to come crawlin' back to Monroe—especially knowin' she's fuckin' my brother… or did miss pink not have the guts to tell ya?"

Katt clenched her fists—but her eyes lowered in shame.

"Maybe when he's done with her next time, I'll get round two—"

Falco darted forward and grabbed the lizard's thick neck in his hands, taking him by surprise. Getting up in his face, he spat, "Yeah, I'm back, bitch." Then he shoved Dimmer into his weasel companion, and the two stumbled away.

Knowing a fight was about to take place, the hedgehog grocer sank to his tail and turned his back to the alley, bristling while he hid his more vulnerable underbelly. Dimmer and the weasel recovered and stood upright, seething mad. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the tight alley, glaring down Falco and Katt.

Dimmer approached Falco, cracking his neck. "You know, we were supposed ta save ya for Grimmer, but I don't think he'll mind if you're roughed up a bit beforehand. Just as long as I don't kill ya. But everyone did always say I was accident prone."

The weasel eyed Katt up-and-down, unashamedly licking his cracked lips. "You uh… sure you wanna try me, toots? I'd hate to rough up the boss's girl."

"I know how you feel," Katt said with mock sympathy. "I'm debating whether to hit a lady, too."

The weasel snickered, then his expression fell. "Hey-OOF!"

Katt spun and kicked him squarely in the gut; he stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach. "Ooh, that was a mistake, puss!"

Meanwhile, something told Falco he would regret picking a fight with Dimmer. The red-scaled lizard stood nearly a head above him—and he was already tall for an avian. Dimmer's build was equally intimidating, and while Falco's frame was well-toned, the iguana's was broader and had him beat in terms of weight. He would have to play carefully against him if he wanted to last the fight, dodging every swing and striking where and when he could. He'd made the mistake of fighting Dimmer's elder brother before; even a single successful hit could spell the end of the fight for the smaller avian.

Exhaling while Dimmer approached, Falco raised his fists protectively and began bouncing on his feet. He'd have to make the most of his lighter build.

Slinking forward, Dimmer brought his right fist around for a blow aimed at Falco's face. It was clear he hoped for a swift end to the fight, but Falco wasn't going to give it to him. The avian bobbed to the side, avoiding the punch so narrowly he could feel the lizard's fist brush against his head feathers.

After the near miss, Falco responded in kind, but his blow glanced off the scale and tattoo-covered arm Dimmer raised for his defense. The iguana laughed as if his attack was pathetic—even more so than a child's. He struck back at Falco, alternating left and right jabs and driving him back down the alley. Falco couldn't dodge, so he tried deflecting with his wings. He was successful, but each fist he bore the brunt of caused his bones to reverberate and his beak to clatter. Dimmer pulled none of his punches, and at this rate he'd have Falco bruised and battered without ever laying a finger on his head. But all the same, Falco knew that final blow would eventually come, and he wouldn't be ready for it.

At least Katt was having a better time with her opponent further down the alley. The weasel was muscled but lithe; a fitting match for someone of Katt's build. She didn't wait for him to be brave and take the first shot; she did it herself. The weasel's eyes widened when it came unexpectedly, and he quickly realized he wasn't the one leading this dance.

His epiphany came just as her fist was connecting with his already-bent snout. Squiz pulled back just in time to minimize the damage and save himself from an early KO. Katt's punch still sent a spray of spittle from his mouth and caused his head to snap back, yet it fell shy of what she'd hoped to accomplish.

"You'll pay for that with your pretty face!" Squiz snarled as he ran at her.

Katt ducked under his first swipe and spun on her foot, kicking him in the back with her other heel when he stumbled past. The weasel grunted and sprawled forward, then twisted around to come at her again. He dispensed with his clumsy punches, instead spreading his fingers and trying to catch her with the hooks of his claws in several vicious swipes. Katt jerked an arm up to block his claws as they came, but winced and sucked in a breath when he slashed through the sleeve to her skin.

Blood began to drip from her arm, and blocking only made things worse; she needed to turn her defense around. So the next time Squiz slashed his claws at her, she caught his wrist with her hand, locking it in place before it could descend. The weasel swung his other hand around, but Katt snagged it in her free paw as well. He tried to pull away, but Katt jerked him towards her till they were nearly face-to-face. He looked up into her eyes worriedly, jaw agape. Katt smiled with glittering fangs, then reared her head back and slammed it into his.

The strength in the weasel's arms faded, and Katt released him. The impact rattled her jaw and caused a dull ringing in her ears, but her opponent looked far worse-off. He clutched at his forehead and stumbled back, desperately searching for the wall with his other hand. When he found it he slumped against the bricks and slid to the floor, cradling his head. "Ughhh…"

Katt shook her head, trying to clear the ringing from her own ears. Cradling her bleeding arm, she smirked. "Well, Falco always said I had a thick skull…"

The sound of grunting and blows came from behind her, and she turned to watch the rest of Falco's fight. She wanted to intervene and attack Dimmer from behind, but Falco wouldn't want her help; he was too obstinate—too much like her.

By now, Dimmer had Falco pushed back nearly to the alley's exit. He was getting tired of blocking the lizard's attacks, and he knew his finishing blow might come at any minute. He couldn't let his guard down, nor could he let the powerful blows daze him for even a second; he had to pay close attention to Dimmer's every cue.

At that moment the iguana's posture signaled another dominant hand attack; one that might prove the last he needed. Dimmer began to swing with his right hand, and Falco wanted to raise his fists to block… but something seemed off. He felt tired and dizzy from the constant jarring, so perhaps his grip on reality was slipping a bit, but for a brief second he thought he saw a flash of Dimmer halting his punch and attacking with his rear hand instead while Falco's defenses were misdirected. He had no idea where the image came from, but his gut told him to heed it.

Instead of bracing for Grimmer's oncoming attack, he kept his posture loose and eyes wide, assuming it was only a feint. To his shock, the vision proved right. Just as Falco had seen things unfold a mere second before they actually happened, Dimmer under-swung, his fist not even glancing off Falco. Instead he pivoted his hips and brought his inner fist around for an even swifter cross jab. At the last second, Dimmer's yellow eyes widened, surprised Falco had seen it coming. His fist merely glanced off Falco's repositioned defense, and he clumsily stumbled after it.

While Falco was just as astonished, his recovery came quicker. Dimmer's failed strike left his opposite side wide open, and Falco seized the chance to punch him square in the jaw. It was a satisfying hit; his balled fingers struck fleshy scales, and the bony jaw jostled beneath his skin.

The lizard's head snapped to the side, spit flying from his mouth. He recoiled, rubbing the scales where Falco had struck, bewildered. He snarled and went in for another series of punches, this time with more vigor. But once again, his thoughts seemed to broadcast each and every attack he plotted before he could actually execute them.

Falco didn't have time to ask questions; he just trusted his instincts and reacted to the visions, and they didn't lead him astray. Punch after punch the iguana threw, Falco dodged or deflected with ease. The lizard began to feel creeped-out by Falco's instant predictions, but his fear turned to frustration, and anger. He stopped trying to plan layered, multi-staged attacks and feints, instead resorting to rapid-fire punches.

Finally the lizard took a swing so powerful and desperate that it brought him off balance—and dangerously close to Falco. The avian sidestepped with ease and brought the edge of his wing down on the back of his neck, causing Dimmer to stumble forward. Next, he pushed his back down and brought his knee up viciously into the iguana's gut; his underbelly was vulnerable in comparison to the rest of his scaled body. His opponent wheezed and doubled-over even further.

At this point the fight was over, but Falco wasn't done yet; he had too much to repay. He grabbed a fistful of Dimmer's back spines, keeping him from falling over when all he wanted to do was drop to the ground and curl up protectively. Gritting his beak, he brought his curled fist into the iguana's face, punching it again and again.

Only when sickly reptilian blood began to drip from the lizard's mouth and nose did Falco let up. He set his foot on Dimmer's lowered shoulder and kicked him back, causing him to fall flat on his tail in a puddle of soiled water.

Grinning at Dimmer's misfortune, Falco advanced on him again. The lizard backpedaled on the ground, but the weasel came to his aid. He ran up behind Dimmer, opening his vest to reveal a concealed holster. The henchmen pulled out his gun and cocked it, and when the barrel fell on Falco, an icy chill shot through his blood.

"Freeze!" he screeched in his high-pitched voice.

The avian stopped in his tracks, holding up his hands. Katt took a daring step forward, but the weasel noticed and aimed the gun at her for a second; just long enough to dissuade her before frantically training it back on Falco. Dimmer continued to crawl behind him, sore from the numerous spots Falco had pummeled.

All four of the brawlers owned weapons, but it was unusual for clashing gangs to fire upon one another when visceral fistfights would do. It was a cowardly move that went against Zonessian street code, and everyone present knew it—plus any gunfire would immediately draw the Bureau's wrath.

Squiz waved his gun anyway. "Alright, both of you, scram."

Falco glanced back at Katt, but neither of them wanted to leave; not while the grocer was still caught in the alley. They didn't want to abandon him to his assailants, or intervening in the first place would've been pointless.

"Now!" he barked when neither of them moved.

Reluctantly Katt tugged on the back of Falco's shirt, but he wasn't ready to go. He could sense fear emanating from the weasel; he could smell it, taste it, feel it ruffling his feathers like a cold, lingering breeze. But there was also embarrassment and hesitation. With a cocky grin, Falco realized the weasel didn't want to pull the trigger.

To Katt's horror, Falco planted his feet and crossed his arms. "No."

The weasel's shifty eyes darted between him and Katt. He licked his lips and tightened his hold on the handgun. "I-I'm warning you—"

"Dude, just give it up. Your bluff ain't workin'. You're not shooting anyone in broad daylight—especially not me."

The weasel bared his little fangs. "What makes you think I won't? I'll—"

But Dimmer, who'd managed to stagger to his feet, swatted his lackey across the back of the head. "Squiz you ijit! You want every cop in the North End on our tails? Put that thing away!"

Squiz flinched and rubbed the base of his skull. "Ow! But—"

"Shut up and do what I tell ya! Buncha moldy vegetables ain't worth this shit…"

Scowling, the weasel gave in and holstered his weapon. He turned and lent Dimmer his shoulder, and the two hobbled out the other end of the alley together. But before they were out of earshot, Dimmer turned his scaly snout around to deliver one last threat.

"Smooth moves, bird, but they won't save you for long. The only reason I didn't whup your tail here is because I was holdin' back; I was savin' ya for Grimmer. He let you go years ago—now you ain't leavin' District 13 alive. And he won't be happy to hear what you've done either, Monroe. Better pray he'll be gentle when you come to him for your next fix…"

Katt snarled. "He tries anything of the sort and I'll upholster my car seats with his scaly hide!"

Once they slinked around the corner, Falco turned to the grocer, who finally began to peek out of his protective ball. The avian and feline stood on either side of him, and Falco bent down to offer him his hand. "You alright there?"

The elderly hedgehog squinted at Falco. Then his eyes widened. "I remember you! You were that little ruffian who used to swipe food from my store!"

Falco laughed nervously. "Er, yeah… Need help getting up?"

The hedgehog looked down at his open hand—the same hand he used to catch stealing fresh fruit from his outdoor stands. Whatever withholdings he still had about Falco, he pushed them aside and accepted the hand up.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Katt asked in concern.

He brushed off his green apron, now soiled with alley grime. "No—at least no bones broke, and that's all that really matters," he chuckled. "But they would have, if you two hadn't showed up. Thank you for chasing them away!"

Falco scratched behind his earhole awkwardly. "Don't mention it. It's my way of making up for all those times I lifted food from ya."

"Thanks, son. It restores my faith seeing some of you street urchins learn and grow up… but those others still haven't. They come right up to my store and take whatever they want, and there's nothin' I can do about it. They threaten me otherwise! They work for Grimmer, they do, and they'll be back to rob my store again as payment for their 'protection.' Well, who's protecting me from them?!"

Falco nodded. "You're probably right. We can't cover your store all the time, Gramps, so for now…" He looked at Katt. "I'd just give them what they want. But I promise you, you won't have to for much longer."

Both Katt and the grocer looked at Falco, picking up on the odd gleam in his eye.

"Things in the District are about to change forever."

Later, Falco and Katt returned to the mechanic shop. Falco stopped beneath the open garage door, looking up to see Kitt on lookout duty. The small blue feline sat perched on the edge of the building, right next to the oversized letters spelling the shop's name. They were just in time for the lights to turn on for the afternoon.

Falco smirked. Most of the neon letters had previously failed; the remaining glowing ones could only spell, "Pietro's Mechanic Shop." The previous night Katt had finally nagged him into repairing the sign for her, but he hadn't seen the fruits of his labor until now. Apparently, he'd fixed some letters while knocking out even more, so that the sign now read, "Pietro's Mechanic Shop."

Katt put her hands on her hips and frowned at him, as if to say, Really?

"Welcome back, Sis, Falco!" Kitt hailed them. Then, noticing the avian staring with an amused look on his face, he added, "What's so funny?" He couldn't see what the giant letters spelled out next to him.

Falco shook his head. "Nothin'. Keep up the good work, Kitt!"

Inside they found Bowser and Mouser heatedly discussing weapons, each sipping a can of Whimsy soda while the other new Free Birds milled about. The alligator leaned against the hood of a broken van where he'd sat a rotary minigun. The heavy machine gun practically dented the hood beneath it and looked like it would give any lesser man a hernia if he tried to pick it up. Mouser sat atop the van so he could be eye-level with his friend. He was going off about the grenade launcher he held in his hands, which was ridiculously over-sized in comparison to his small mouse body.

"Mouser, Bowser," Falco interrupted them, "what are those supposed to be? When I said we were going to war, I didn't mean total war. We're street gangs, not mercenaries. Well, I guess some of us are kinda mercenaries…"

"Don'cha worry 'bout it Falco," Mouser assured him, pushing his goggles up. "These beauties are only for guardin' da hideout; strictly for protectin' da premises!"

The croc wagged his snout. "You have Bowser's word! Fire weapon only if Grimmer's Gang is attacking shop!"

"Fire those in here and you'll end up doing more damage to Katt's shop than Grimmer," Falco warned.

"Relax Boss, we're specialists!" Mouser took his cigarette out and dusted the ashes on one of his grenades.

"Oh?" Falco crossed his wings. "And how many times have you actually fired that grenade launcher?"

Mouser looked at him smarmily. "Ya know all da trouble da Defense Bureau is havin' wif mines explodin' off da norf coast?"

Falco raised an eyebrow expectantly, but Mouser didn't answer. He just blew another puff from his cigarette. "…Well?"

"They not being mines," Bowser finally said.

Falco's eyes widened. "You're not!"

"We gotta test 'em somewheres!"

"That's too risky! You better stop that now."

"Yeah, you're right. We'll move testin' to da west coast."

Katt shook her head and sighed. "You two are hopeless. Just… try not to damage my shop if you have to use those; don't do Grimmer's job for him. And get your gun off that van, Bowser; it's warping the hood!"

"Ah! Bowser is terribly sorry!"

The feline brushed Falco with her tail and set off into the shop. "Come on Falco; there's something I wanted to show you in the back room…"

When he looked over at the two weapons specialists, Falco saw them nudging each other suggestively. He rolled his eyes and followed Katt.

Katt led him to the back of the spacious garage, past the door to her living quarters. The next one down opened to her private work room. She saved this part of the garage for her pet projects: maintaining her pink motorbike (the same color, of course, as the Cat's Paw); rebuilding her robot servant/guardian, Bruiser; and several other endeavors she was tight-lipped about.

After they entered, Katt shut the door behind them with a click. Falco's blood began to run with anxiousness. Why take me back here? Privacy? For what? Passion? One of her stern talks about my recklessness? The fight I got us into today? The drugs? Is she pregnant?! Nah, our species aren't compatible—wait, is she pregnant with someone else?! But try as he might, Falco couldn't read her mind; the lingering effects of Corruption had worn off.

Growing anxious, he tried to distract himself. He gazed around the room, which he didn't often see the interior of since it was previously off-limits to him. Katt's pink bike stood proudly on the floor, a bright sheen covering its surface. Though she hadn't ridden it since Falco turned back up a month ago, she still kept it well-polished and clean. Beside it stood another similar-sized mound, though a tarp covered its shape. Lastly, Bruiser's metal body stood gormlessly against the far wall, still unfinished for some reason.

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence. "He looks almost done… but you don't seem to have made a lotta progress on him since a week ago. What gives? Missing a part?"

Katt crossed her arms and smirked at him. "No, I've just been distracted with… other things."

"Other things?" Falco echoed dumbly. "As in like, getting Pukes and everyone else moved in, or—"

While he talked, Katt merely strode over to the mystery item and whipped the tarp off. Falco's words caught in his throat. "Holy…!"

Standing proudly beneath the tarp was a brand-new bike. The cruiser motorcycle was painted a bright electric blue: like the sky, but with a more vibrant, shocking hue. Fiery-red highlights complimented the blue in thin lines along the exterior and soaked the pointed tips like blood. It was larger than most bikes, with a big front wheel that extended far in front of the vehicle. A shell of aluminum shaped like back-swept wings covered either side, protecting the inner parts and providing an excellent canvas for Katt's choice of paint.

For a few seconds, Falco could only gawk at the magnificent beast sitting before him. He looked up at Katt and pointed to himself, beak agape.

Unable to hide her smile any longer, she beamed at him and nodded. "Yep, she's all yours."

Falco stepped forward and began circling the vehicle, speechless. He ran his wings over the new, shiny plastics, durable cushions, and gleaming chrome underparts. "When did… how did… wow!"

Katt giggled. "You like it?"

"I love it! This is leagues better than my old bike. I've never seen a paint job like this, either—why these colors?"

"The red was just to match the highlights of your feathers, but also how you're not afraid to get your wings dirty when something you care about is on the line. I could've painted it a darker blue to match the rest of your feathers, but… something made me choose this shade. It's the blue of the sky on a clear day like it used to be—back before it changed. After all, that blue's what you're fighting for, isn't it?"

"What we're fighting for—right?"

Katt held her elbow and looked down. "Yeah…"

He stopped circling the bike and stood next to Katt, leaning further back with his hands on his hips to take it all in. "I'm just shocked you were able to make this; all these parts musta been hard to find. This has to have taken years to build."

Katt nodded. "If you want to know the truth, I started work on it as soon as Grimmer fed your old one to the trash compactor. I wanted to help you get back in the seat, but… when you left, there wasn't a point anymore. I quit working on it; in fact the night you left, I came back here to cry. I took my anger out on the bike, dismantling it and beating it with my tools. When I was done I just let it sit back here, gathering dust."

Falco looked at her and grinned. "But you didn't throw it out…"

Katt smiled sheepishly. "I guess there was always a part of me hoping you'd come back. There were many times I came back here with just that intention in mind, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't let go. You're… another habit I can't kick. So ever since you returned and started talking about righting all the wrongs, I restarted work on it—still in secret, of course. Even Kitt never knew about it."

Falco chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "But why? What made you finish it?"

She sighed, gathering her thoughts. "For the longest time, I've just been pessimistic about everything. I never wanted to try anything too daring or take big risks. I just took over the mechanic shop after the war and worked like anyone else. I thought that was the way forward at the time; everyone just behaving and doing their small part. Then you came back, and I thought I could convince you of the same thing. But you had bigger plans. I've always tried to be the voice of reason, telling you that you can't do this or you can't do that, but… you can. Recently I've only ever held you down, and I don't want to be someone else's leash and chains. I don't want to be the hands that hold you back; I want to be the wings that help you soar. You're gonna need this if you're going toe-to-toe with Grimmer again."

Overwhelmed by Katt's declaration, Falco silently pulled her close. While neither of them could properly kiss, he ran his beak through her neck fur, preening it in the way avian species showed affection. Katt hugged him back and planted a kiss on his feathered cheek.

After a while they pulled apart and looked back at the motorcycle again. The feline cleared her throat and asked, "So, what're you gonna name it?"

He thought for a moment, losing himself in the spotless coat of paint and unblemished reflection. He grinned. "The Azure Sky?"

Katt slowly nodded. "Yeah… I like that! Better than the Falcon's Fury."

"I was only sixteen!"

They shared a laugh, and Falco walked back beside the vehicle, gazing at the seat with a gleam in his eye. "I'd love to take her for a ride… but what about Grimmer? If he sees me roll out of here in this…"

Katt bit her lip for a second, then set her jaw firmly. "Let him. Dimmer will run crying back to him; it's only a matter of time before he figures out you and everyone else are hanging at the shop."

Falco clenched his beak in concern. "You know he'll be mad at you, right?" He took Katt's hand. "I just can't stand the thought of that slimy shit hurting you because—"

The feline looked down, nodding. "I know. But he's been mad before, and I still survived. I might be stuck with him, but he doesn't own me. Not completely. I think I need to do something like this, to be free again. So please…" Katt dropped the shining keys in Falco's hand, and his eyes widened. "Take her for a spin, and be free—for me."

Falco clasped his hand around the keys reverently, then collapsed the kick stand. While Katt cleared the way ahead of him, he rolled his new bike through the garage. Mouser and Bowser gawked in surprise when they saw it; the other Free Birds cheered; and Kitt nearly fell off the roof when Falco brought it outside.

When he had it in the driveway, Falco threw his leg over the side and mounted his new "steed." The cushioned seat felt good: free and unrestrictive in a way an Arwing could never be—but before he took off, he twisted around and extended his hand to Katt. "Wanna tag along?"

The feline's eyebrows raised, and she blushed, glancing up and down the street. Ultimately, she reached out and accepted his hand. "A-Alright…"

Katt seated herself behind Falco and hugged his torso tightly, while he put the key in the ignition and revved her up. The motorcycle roared to life like a lion, then maintained a steady rumble as the combustion engine fired its cylinders. Falco loved the feel of so much power beneath his wings; he couldn't wait to get out on the street again.

"You wanna be free?" he asked over his shoulder. "Then let's you and me fly, baby!"

He jammed his foot down on the gas, feeding the hungry engine till the dam could hold it back no longer. The Azure Sky took off into the street, with Falco immediately popping a wheelie and cheering at the top of his lungs, while Katt squealed with glee.

ㅤ⦲ㅤ

Dr. Makepeace walked down the corridors of the Justice, clutching her usual tablet to her chest. As she headed towards the crew's quarters, her green eyes flitted left and right anxiously. She expected their maniacal Cerinian hijacker to be lurking behind every bulkhead and corner she passed, waiting to jump out at her.

After an agonizing journey, she finally reached the hatch to her personal cabin, but she didn't allow herself to breathe easily until she was inside. Punching in her keycode—and having to re-enter several miss-tapped numbers—she slid the door open and stepped in. Then she turned and immediately closed it again behind her, sealing herself inside the comfort of her own cabin.

Only now did she release a pent-up sigh, lean against the door, and relax. Then, sucking in another breath, she stood up straight and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.

"Well-well-well, what has you so worked up, Marjorie?"

At once the doctor's heart stopped and she spun around, confirming her worst fear:

Ariki had been waiting for her.

The dull-furred Cerinian floated down from the cabin's ceiling, coming to stand in front of her—a shit-eating grin plastered across his face the whole time.

"What? Did the ol' ceiling trick spook ya? Hime nearly killed me out of reflex when I pulled it on her, but man was it worth it."

Makepeace pressed herself flat against the door, but quickly wiped the fear from her face. She intentionally replaced it with a look of annoyance. "And how did you get in here?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Saw another hole through the wall? I'd wager you mastered that trick long ago when peeping into women's restrooms."

He raised a mangled digit. "On the contrary, I was more considerate this time! I just jimmied your lock rather than break down the whole door."

The scientist sneered. "What do you want with me? Or are you just playing pranks on everyone to pass the time?"

Not fooled by her act, Ariki merely grinned, approaching her silently rather than answering. As he drew nearer, the vixen swallowed. She retreated from the door towards her bed, but never turned her back on him.

"Just wanted to have a private chat—away from your stalwart captain," he mocked.

The Cerinian stopped by the door, reaching for the lock. He pressed the button, but the grin vanished from his face when no corresponding click sounded. Frowning, he jammed it a few more times, but nothing continued to happen. Eventually he realized his mistake and facepalmed.

"Didn't think that one through…"

He peeked through his fingers again, then approached Makepeace and cornered her against the bed. He loomed so close he forced her to sit down or meet his chest.

"Well? What is it?" she demanded, her confident veneer beginning to peel.

Ariki towered over her and grinned. "Borrowing the thoughts of your leashed captain, 'What sort of tricks do you have up your sleeve'?"

Marjorie grit her teeth; her hateful eyes didn't once flinch in their stare. "You know as well as I do I have nothing. It's no use trying to plot against you when you can read my mind. I simply made the decision it was in our best interest to give you what you wanted and return to our mission as soon as possible."

Ariki pursed his lips skeptically. "Sorry dearie, but I'm going to call your bluff. I'm afraid I already know many of your secrets—some that your obedient captain doesn't even know."

He lay a grizzled paw on her head, and Makepeace tensed, closing her eyes as her breathing became rapid.

"So tell me; what are you planning…?"