Thank you to ATG for betaing, and thank you to Millie for the help with more detailed suggestions. Thanks everyone for your patience! I love reading everyone's comments and I'm so glad this fic has taken off! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, as well as any critique - I am always open to improvement. Thanks again. Enjoy!
He had jumped higher than he thought. He bounded over the wreckage of what was once his FOWL headquarters as more explosions were set off below him, the red and yellow fires bellowing over the desert landscape. He aimed his floating body towards the safety of the rock ground below, far, far away from the facilities, but not far from small water boat waiting for him in the streaming river.
He felt like he was flying. But not even the Sword could luxuriate him with a pair of wings or the ability of flight.
He heavily fell on his knee on a small, flat desert hill, denting the ground underneath him. He attempted to gather his bearings and to still his heavy breathing. He could still smell the dark fumes in his nostrils, the smoke weighing in his lungs. The horrid sounds of crunching metal and crashing walls in his head. He listlessly stared from the once flat earth beneath him to the motorboat a meter away from him, trying to calm himself and come back to reality. Soon, a pair of knee-high boots came into his view.
"Bradford?" Black Heron's worried yet relieved voice came through to him. Bradford took in a deep breath, readied himself, then lifted his transformed body up to its fullest height. He leered down Heron's shocked face with a grim stare, the fires of once were their HQ burning behind him ominously.
Bradford sheathed the Sword behind his back, and settled a squirming April fully in his strengthened arms. He rebundled her tightly in her small blue blanket, keeping her head close to his steel chest, over his heart. He looked her over carefully and lightly ran a hand through her feathers, checking for any harm done to her during the escape.
April watched his face closely, her eyes as large as ever, any remnants of her past fear seemingly gone. She cooed a little as Bradford critically inspected her, and to his relief he found no debris or damage on her except for a small tear at the corner of her soot-covered blanket.
April let out a small, attention seeking cry to him, a smile reaching across her small bill. Bradford felt that familiar tugging inside him. She was safe in his arms, out of harm's way, and she wanted to be with him, even after all that had happened to her. It was all he could ever ask for.
A deep, wet gasp escaped his beak. He squeezed her tightly but not too tightly and brought her up to the crook of his neck. He buried her small head deep into the warmth and softness of his white feathers, lightly pressing his forehead to hers.
"You're safe now, April," he whispered as a deep shudder passed through his large body. "You're safe now, child. I said I'd keep you safe, and I did. You're safe now…"
Through the corner of his eye, he saw Heron bring her head down to stare at the ground, either out of discomfort of seeing this private moment or from guilt. Then, she slowly raised her head up again and inclined her body to the side to look past him.
"Uh, Bradford. Don't look now but… 22 is staring right at us."
Bradford lowered April and fully covered her with his arms and the blanket. He slightly turned his head to where Heron was looking, his eyes squinting against the irritation of the sun's rays to get a good look.
And indeed, there she was. Director 22 was watching them from a couple of miles away from a large cliff, with Bradford's back to her. She stood stoically, wind in her long hair, still holding her quickly bound yet still damaged shoulder. She seemed to not have any other equipment on her, nor was she watching them with any sort of enhanced viewing gear. To his eye, she came woefully under prepared.
Bradford returned to April, lifting the blanket just slightly enough to inspect her. She was now fully resting in his arms, her eyes closed and wearing a content smile. He let out the deep breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Let her," he exhaled, dismissive. At this point, he didn't care anymore what she saw on him from this distance: his large frame, his armored suit, or even The Sword. He could only hope she didn't recognize his face from afar, but most of all he hoped she didn't see the small child he was holding. Anything she could recognize, she could easily use as a weapon against him.
"She looks…hurt?" Heron asked disbelievingly. Her eyes went straight to the edge of Bradford's blade, the bright red stain still streaked at the tip.
"Gave her something to remember you by, then?" she asked passively, without her usual villainous mirth. "Mm, quite impressive."
Her gaze drifted to the burning facility, forlorn deep in her brow. Bradford could not stomach looking at the accursed place again, instead keeping his focus on the sleeping duckling. After a few moments, he gave Heron a quick look over.
"Where's the bag?" he asked.
Heron listlessly gestured her head towards the motorboat. "Don't worry, one of the eggheads has it. She's waiting for us right now. I only gave it to her so 22 wouldn't put two and two together." She quickly glanced between the boat, April and then to Bradford's face, and he understood. He wouldn't admit it right now, but yes, that was quite smart of her.
Bradford sighed and looked up. The sky was streaked with bright, white clouds, and the sun was at its midafternoon peak. The wind began to catch Heron's hair and his own helmet's feathers.
"Did you see any other eggheads make it out alive?" Bradford asked. "How many?"
Heron's sight was still on the burning building. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, yeah. A good number…but not all of them."
Bradford closed his eyes. He'll have to account for that. Time will only tell how. "Von Drake?"
"Moved according to your orders. He's safe."
"And the Stone?" he whispered this question in trepidation, half-opening his eyes.
Heron halfheartedly gestured to the boat. "In there. Don't ask how we got it into a crate."
Bradford grunted in satisfaction, then he started walking towards the boat, making sure to keep his back to 22's eyes. "We should start heading to Duckburg. Keep our cover low."
He heard a faint "Fine" come from Heron. They began to trot towards the boat, his large steps out pacing her smaller ones. Bradford stole one more glance at 22. She hadn't moved an inch.
He rounded over into the small boat, tipping it to the side as he almost lost his balance going in while also trying to hold onto April. His extra weight was definitely making him clumsier than before. The bag he had given to Heron was laying haphazardly on the floor of the boat.
"Whoooa, nelly," a young woman's voice came out from the bow as she tried to balance herself on the careening boat. "Better be careful there, Mr. Director!" she called out to him. "We don't want to be swimming with the fishes, now do we?"
The young egghead manning the wheel looked no older than a recent high school graduate, but she quickly regained her confidence and started up the motorboat as soon as he and Heron settled on some back seats, with Bradford taking up most of the seat and uncomfortably squishing Heron with his arms.
"Who is she?" he asked Black Heron. "She looks like she was just recruited yesterday."
"Her name's Pepper, and she was just recruited yesterday. Paper duty," Heron squeezed out, pushing her way out from under Bradford's weight. "She was the only one I found who wasn't running for their lives, so be thankful for this small blessing."
"Great." He rolled his eyes. "Our lives are in the hands of a teenager. What else could go wrong?"
"It's okay, Mr. Director!" Pepper called out. "I used to drive these babies for miles back on my daddy's farm! Now, where's the lever?"
Bradford sighed. "I had to ask."