Thanks everyone for the reviews so far! To fickle: here April was only made so far, and April IS Webby in canon, so of course Bradford knows- he did help to create her. And to Theory of Weirdness: thank you! To hear the backstory I imagined for Braddie as sounding canon-compliant is one of the biggest compliments I can receive for this story.

And now...is where the fun begins.

The alarm bells rang hours later around the afternoon. The proper protocols were initiated, and the eggheads were ordered to get rid of or secure all proper documentation, as well as securing any relics that were still locked in containment to be quickly transported out.

Bradford, after quickly ensuring everything was in place within the few minutes window he had, was running as fast as he could back to his room, shoving his own eggheads out of his way as he did so. The waves of them seemed endless.

Everyone was scrambling around HQ, and he needed to get to the emergency exit located in his bedroom. Soon, very soon, the HQ will self-destruct, and the intruder will either go down with the ship, or getting nothing out of it.

Finally, he got through the maze, unlocked his door and tightly closed it. He trotted over to April's dresser, opened the bottom most drawer and took out the emergency kit: a large, over the shoulder pack filled with extra clothes, diapers, formula and bottles, baby oil and ointment, a first aide kit, and other necessities that would come in handy. He didn't have to spare a thought to his own belongings: there was nothing personally valuable of his stored in HQ. The Sword menacingly hung over on the wall across from him, near the door.

As he was arranging the items and checking the room for anything else to quickly grab, he heard the door behind him open and slam quickly. He would've known her brisk steps from anywhere.

"Oh, Bradford," she gasped quickly. "Thank goodness. Heh, looks like she won't give me the slip this time." She darkly chuckled. "We ready to evacuate?"

"Yes," Bradford said, storing the extra items in the baby bag. "Looks like everything is in order. Just hand April over to me, you get The Sword, and we'll head out."

"April? I-" Heron stood in silence, then Bradford turned, inspecting her quickly. Heron stood empty-handed, watching Bradford carefully as his eyes became huge.

Bradford took a few steps closer to her. "Where's April?" he whispered lowly, dangerously.

Heron crossed her arms slowly and stared at Bradford insolently.

"Heron," Bradford said evenly with no tone betraying his rising anger. "I don't have time for your games, so I'll ask again. Where is she?"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her beak. Finally, she said under her breath, "She was being annoying…so I left her in the chamber before the bells started to ring."

"You," he said in a harsh whisper, his tone rising quickly as he pointed a finger at her, "put her into the chamber when I had specifically told you not to."

Heron watched him with a bored expression, making him even more irate. Bradford swore he started seeing red.

"You put her in the chamber and forgot about her DURING A SELF-DESTRUCT ALARM!" he screamed, seething. "I trusted you to look after her, to care for her for only a few hours, and not only did you disobey my orders, but you left her behind during an emergency?! One job, Heron! You had one job, and you couldn't even watch a baby for the measly amount of time I gave you without LOSING HER! AND YOU DON'T EVEN CARE!"

Bradford came close to her blank face as she stared unblinkingly into his furious eyes.

He sneered. She didn't care…after all this time, she never cared.

His pointing hand became a shaking fist. He inhaled deeply, forced himself to look at the floor and close his eyes shut, unable to look at her. He took a deep breath to calm his running thoughts, turned his back to Heron and started to quickly pace around the room, thinking of what to do.

What can he do? What is he supposed to do now? Heron…he'll have to deal with her later…if there was a later.

He grimaced at the door with a look of determination, trying to keep his cool but his wringing hands betrayed his desperation.

"I have to get her," he tried to keep his voice even, but its shakiness betrayed him. "I need swiftness. I need bravery. I need-"

Unconsciously, he had walked towards his own wardrobe, and above it, the Sword sat there on the mantle, at the ready. Bradford looked up to it for a few moments, his eyes focused on it.

"I need strength."

He grabbed the golden hilt of the Sword of Swanstantine with no hesitation.

He stood at the ready watching the door sternly as he quickly transformed. The aura around his sword hand became purple, with the glow rapidly running across his body, crossing his chest and up towards the rest of limbs and head. His body grew and became covered with red and steel armor, his upper body becoming greatly muscular, his head adorned with a feathered helmet. All of his previous clothing, even his glasses, had disappeared, and his neck and back were straightened out, as if he were many, many decades younger and healthier than ever. He stood in a form that absolutely could've been him if the stresses of his life didn't overwhelm him, if he had been the hero he always wished he could've been.

When his transformation was complete, he looked down at his clawed hands, hilt held in the palm of his right, and squeezed them into fists. He felt powerful. More powerful, stronger than he ever felt in his life. But his insides boiled and twisted, and his fists shook uncontrollably.

All of this felt too familiar. Pushed into a corner, imminent danger ahead of him, with no other choice to take. His heart started to hammer, and he felt something internally painful shoot through him, as if a knife had been driven right through his chest.

And yet, he felt something tighten in his heart and muscles with the thought. No. He closed his eyes and tried to push down the oppressive memories, forcing himself to think of his little chick and her innocent smile, her happy giggles- playing on his lap, sleeping on his chest. How she'd looked up to him in the dark. Her eyes.

April. No matter what happens, no matter what obstacles, he had to get to April and retrieve her to safety. That was his only priority.

Heron stared at him with a hand to her open beak, awed and fearful at his rapid transformation. If this had been any other time, she would've had some witty remark to say to him, but for once she was out of words to say, thank the gods.

With his back to her, Bradford tried to control his heavy breathing, forcing his panic down through gritted teeth. "Heron. If you have an iota of self-preservation left, I suggest you take the bag with you, go through the exit, and wait for me outside. If you don't see me within thirty minutes," his hand went to the doorknob, "assume me dead."

Heron looked up in trepidation at the words. "Bradford, wait-" she whispered meekly, but as his hand turned the knob, he opened the door too quickly and strongly, causing it to tear off from its hinges. Bradford held the door several inches away from the frame and glanced at what he done with a stunned expression. Then, he uncaringly threw the door aside and ran out into the hallway, down the way to the laboratory.

As he ran, he took a glance behind him and saw Heron watch him until a nearby explosion startled her enough to run further into the room, towards the emergency exit, bag in hand.