REBECCA:

REBECCA:

Fly. Fly. Fly. Fly.

As an injured raven, Rebecca struggled to string together thoughts outside of panic and fly faster. She managed to follow Golden Blade, though, Wild Blossom’s draped form and long, curly hair hanging from his arms, his blade and metallic armor glinting in the warm orange sunset. 

She was never going to tell anyone this, but she often chose birds known for their love of shiny things when she was going to be flying for more than a few minutes because their little bird brains were attracted to Golden Blade’s shiny accessories. It made it much easier to focus on staying with him rather than flying ahead or getting distracted by something else.

A deep pang pulsed in Rebecca’s tiny, light body and she squawked, faltering in the air and pounding her wings harder to catch the wind current she had been riding. Golden Blade stopped flying and looked back at her, then flew down to her level and hovered beneath.

“Just rest on my shoulder.”

She squawked in protest. I’m not a damsel in distress.

He rolled his eyes. Sometimes he was uncannily in tune with the meanings of her squawks. Twenty years of marriage did that to a guy. 

"You let me carry you earlier as a bear.”

She squawked again, higher pitched than before. Yeah, but that was for a specific purpose. It’s different. Also, it was funny to see Everlux’s face. 

He had been completely bewildered by the appearance of a grizzly, jaw dropping open. And that was pretty much worth the entire fight.

“It’s not different. It’s completely the same. I’m being practical.”

She squawked again, sharply. No way.

“You transformed too many times and you strained yourself—I can tell. What would you say if it was me in your position?”

Her squawk sounded weaker. That you’re letting your masculine heroic ideals override your sense of practicality and therefore putting everyone in danger.

“That’s right. Not very Justice Code of you, is it? Come on. The mother of my child deserves a shoulder ride once in a while.”

She chirped and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling her feathered head against his cheek. You’re right. I do. 

“You are so stubborn sometimes.” He sighed. 

They hurried to the Sunny Road super clinic, and people were already waiting for them. This was the clinic they almost always went to when there were injuries. They knew most of the doctors and nurses there. The clinic was on a wide platform attached to a larger building a few blocks from Gary Nickelson’s studio, relatively small, with a bright red roof that made it noticeable.

A doctor they knew, Rally, already had a wheeled stretcher waiting for them at the door the moment they burst inside. She was surrounded by Responders with glowing guns at their hips.

“How did they know to—” Eric started, his eyes wide. He held Wild Blossom closer to his chest.

“I don’t know,” Rally said, her stature small compared to the imposing Responders in their black suits. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and ran forward to help move Wild Blossom onto the stretcher. “Responders, out of my way so that I can help the injured. You can stay in the waiting room until I determine that it’s safe enough for you to see her. Dreamweaver! Come help!”

Rebecca jumped off of Eric’s shoulder and transformed back into herself. 

In her own skin, her own body, every pain and ache suddenly felt intense and real, her heart pulsing painfully. She slid to the floor and grasped at her chest. 

“Oh, breezes.” Eric knelt next to her, his eyebrows knitting together. He cupped her face and scanned her carefully, his eyes tense and worried. 

God, he’s beautiful, Rebecca thought hazily. His face was more familiar to her than her own, and yet still a wonder. She was intimately familiar with the way it had changed in twenty years and its many transformations, from mask to mask. 

Her chest pulsed with pain, and this time, it reminded her of how it used to feel when they had first started out as heroes and hadn’t been partners yet. It felt like this to separate from him during patrols.

“She’s strained. She needs help!” He pressed his forehead to hers, kneeling in front of her. “What have I told you about minding your intervals?”

She grimaced. “I know.”

In over twenty years of hero work, she had only been strained three times. Once as a young adult, once when Alex had been about nine, and this was her third. She thought that was a pretty solid track record. Still, she was long past the point in her profession where she was able to take risks like this. She needed to be better about using her power in healthy portions. 

She didn’t want to die and abandon Alex the way her parents had died and abandoned her.

“Dreamweaver!” Rally called again. “I need a healer, and I need Dreamweaver, now!” 

Rally was not technically considered a healer. Her power was more nuanced than that—she was more like a booster. Her aura wrapped protectively around her chosen allies and gave them a boost of energy and strength. It was especially helpful when one was close to strain—it was like their powers were reimbursed somehow. When it came to healing, she was more apt to rely on her doctorate than her powers, but it was helpful on hectic nights when her people were tired.

Her very presence energized an entire room of people when her power was activated. It could be the slim difference between survival and death.

Rebecca suddenly felt able to take full breaths, the pangs in her chest settling into steady heartbeats. Eric noticed the change and helped her get to her feet and sit down on a chair.

“I’m going to help Wild Blossom—Dreamweaver should be here in—”

The double doors slammed open. Another woman bolted into the room, her body blazing gold. Her straight, black hair was tied back in a ponytail, her brown skin contrasting warmly with the golden sparks coming off of her and her white coat. An army of people followed her as she ran forward.

“Get out of my clinic,” she ordered. The Responders stepped forward to grab the people marching towards them, and some of them exploded into golden light. 

Dreamweaver was an illusion maker. 

“Stand down, Dreamweaver. By order of Mayor Burns, counselor of the Paragon Guild. Wild Blossom will be under arrest when she is conscious.”

The crow’s feet around her eyes creased as she cast a tense look toward the double doors that Rally and the stretcher had disappeared through in the ruckus. Responders stood outside of them like guards.

“Responders in my clinic, harrassing my patients and my doctors,” she muttered, turning to Eric and Rebecca. “What in the world is going on? Do you two know?”

“Wild Blossom attacked Gary Nickelson’s studio,” Eric explained. “It was a tough fight. Wild Blossom is one of the most powerful people we know. She’s also our friend, so we didn’t want to injure her. She wasn’t acting like herself at all, or talking…Everlux helped us trap her.”

“Everlux?” She frowned. She got busy helping Rebecca into a wheelchair and pushing her to a curtained off section of the room. Rebecca tried to resist feeling embarrassed by it.

“He said something about how both Vent and Wild Blossom seemed to be acting outside of their own will. Like something is making them act violently,” Eric said.

Dreamweaver was thoughtful and silent as she took Rebecca’s vitals. Something stormed behind her eyes. 

“And Vent was unmasked on Gary Nickelson’s stream right before she attacked,” Rebecca said. 

This whole thing…it was so strange. What was going on? Who was targeting Wild Blossom and Vent and why?

And why had Everlux been somehow involved in both fights?

Why had Vent attacked Tory Burns? Why had Wild Blossom gone after Mayor Burns?

Rebecca thought about what Brimstone had asked of them. She thought about the anger that had risen up in her chest during that conversation. 

If he knew something was wrong, then why was Vent in jail awaiting trial? Why wasn’t he in a hospital, or at home with his family? Why had his identity been leaked? Only the council had access to them—who was the leak?

Brimstone’s hands weren’t helplessly tied. He was the president of the guild, after all.

A commotion began to arise down the hallway. Rally was shouting, Responders were barking orders and running down the hallway in their boots, and Wild Blossom was screaming. She was being escorted out, her hands in spherical black cuffs. She looked dazed as she walked down the hallway with Responders around her. Rally had done her healing work, but Wild Blossom still needed time to rest.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dreamweaver broke away from Rebecca and hustled towards them, gritting her teeth. “Are you kidding me? She looks like she’s about to faint! Leave my patient alone, and get out of my clinic. This is against the law. It’s against the Justice Code.”

“We have our orders from the mayor. We need to arrest Dahlia Hubert, also known as Wild Blossom, immediately.”

“Dahlia…” Rebecca’s throat closed over. Was that Wild Blossom’s secret identity?

She had been unmasked, too.

Immediately after the attack.

The mayor was already telling people.

The blood drained from Wild Blossom’s face. She stared at Dreamweaver, looking completely lost.

Dreamweaver watched helplessly as they took Wild Blossom away.

Then she turned to the Hales with a steely expression, rage barely repressed in her eyes.

“I don’t know what the mayor thinks she’s doing, but if she thinks she can get away with it, she’s got another thing coming.”

Eric nodded quietly. He had been gripping the back of Rebecca’s wheelchair during the exchange. He pulled away from it, leaving behind an impression of his grip in the steel. 

“What can we do to stop this?”

Dreamweaver rolled and cracked her neck. Her body began to glow gold again.

“We’ve got to be heroes. We need to rescue them.”