“Really? I didn’t notice,” I bit back. “Isn’t there anything that you can do?”
“Nope. We’re just going to have to search around,” Elysian told me. At his cue, a discordant crash! echoed around us. Starry Knight had started the search, breaking and entering into one of the hallway doors.
I was just about to wonder what level her spy skills were at when an alarm started blasting off. Great, they knew we were free and just started worrying about it, I thought.
“Nothing in here,” Starry Knight confirmed. “We need to find him, and then we need to find a way out. Quickly.”
“I did hear something about a specimen a few floors up,” Elysian spoke up. “Could that be Mikey?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I do know Dante was headed up to meet the Sinisters. We have to be underground somewhere close by the hospital. I don’t think we are far from Apollo City, if we even left it.”
“Yes, where are we, Elysian?” Starry Knight asked.
“I followed you here. You’re in some kind of warehouse by the marina,” Elysian confirmed. “We are about four floors below the surface.”
“Good to know this black site is as cliché as I’d expected,” I muttered. (Again, I had seen all the movies).
“Okay.” I looked over to see Starry Knight beginning to pace around, her fingers raking themselves through her hair. She looked up at me, before her eyes darted over to Elysian. “You go and find that boy,” she said. “I’ll go deal with the Sinisters.”
“No.” I reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You can’t. What if–”
There were so many things I could have said. What if you die? What if I’m not there with you and you need me? What if you don’t really need me?
Thank goodness she interrupted me and saved me from embarrassing myself.
“We don’t have time,” Starry Knight insisted.
“The city can’t survive another one of your attempts to ‘save’ it by destroying it,” I argued back. But she was right about time; it was a factor. I turned to Elysian. “Take him with you.”
“Me?” Elysian asked. “But what if you need my help?”
“Please, don’t get me started,” I huffed. “Just go with her. I’m sure I can find Mikey and get him out of here.”
Starry Knight pursed her lips as she considered it. After a long, silent moment, she nodded. “All right. I’ll take him with me.” She looked down at my hand, still clutching her arm. “You can let me go now.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever,” I murmured back. “See you in a bit.” I took off and headed down the hallway, looking for any doors, secret or otherwise, while Starry Knight and Elysian began to coordinate plans.
“Kid, the stairs are down this hall and around the corner to the right,” Elysian called after me. “If you need a quick exit, I recommend making one.”
“Allow me to demonstrate,” Starry Knight said, drawing out another arrow. “We can get to the Sinisters much more quickly that way ourselves.”
I turned around the next corner just in time to hear the successive splintering of old wood and rotten insulation as her arrow shot through the floor like a small, flying bomb.
It was the worst time to feel the pang of jealousy at her skills. So I kept running, keeping a look out for anyone, Mikey especially, and desperately hoping I would know what do if I actually did find Mikey. I had no doubt I would end up beating up any SWORD agents who came my way, but I didn’t know what I could possibly do for my best friend.
☼21☼
Regrets
It took a few floors, but I soon managed to find where Mikey was being held.
The first thing I noticed was Mikey was still half-way through transforming. It was gross. There were baggy, flabby flag-like skin appendages coming out of his back, like he had some kind of radioactive back fat in addition to chopped tentacle-arms. His head looked better, only slightly inflated . . . but still. It was, in true Sinister-evil tradition, disturbing.
I started to grab at the fatty arms(?), thinking I would need to tell Mikey to go on a diet when he woke up. I cursed myself momentarily for sending Elysian out with Starry Knight; he would have made this job much easier, for once.
Mikey’s body was very cold. And it was sort of hard to get a good hold onto, almost like silly putty that lost its silliness. Almost like he was . . .
“Come on. He’s not dead. He can’t be,” I told myself. “Can’t you remember the movies? The FBI doesn’t tell the truth to its prisoners, and SWORD probably doesn’t either. I need to get him out of here so we can get him back to normal.”
A few heaves, some inappropriate comments which were just too appropriate at the time, and a second reminder to tell Mikey to go on a diet later, I was ready to give up. The flabby, gushy, goopy body was just too slimy, too inconsistent, and too huge to move.
I flung him on the floor, in half-resentment, half-frustration. I didn’t know what to do. What was I going to do? There wasn’t much I could do, according to the laws of physics. I need a miracle, I thought.
A miracle.
I looked down at my warrior suit and reached up, tracing the feathers of my wingdings as they curved their way around my ears. Was it possible to get another miracle for today?
“Okay, Prince, man, I need you to change Mikey back. Can you help me out here?” I asked, feeling like an idiot. I don’t care if Elysian said he existed outside of time and space, if he wasn’t in time or space and I was essentially talking to no one, I felt like an idiot.
I especially felt the humiliation of an idiot when I didn’t hear anything back.
Ugh. Really?
I scrapped through every corner of my mind, trying to think of what I knew that could help me. Think, I commanded myself. Think! I knew I couldn’t shoot Mikey full of energy beams like any other demon monster; that would probably destroy him, which was bad.
Frustrated, I dropped my head into my hands and fell into a sitting position on the floor. This wasn’t working. Anything in the world would have been better than going back to Starry Knight and Elysian and telling them I couldn’t do my job. I could hear Elysian’s comeback already: “At least it’s not a matter of you refusing to do it this time . . . ” That smug turd.
My foot toed some of his extra tentacle appendages as I continued to sit there. I was trying not to worry about time.
“Hey, Mikey! I know you're in there! Stop this, and return to your normal self!” I called.
Nothing happened. Maybe I needed to . . .
Ugh, I needed coffee. I was definitely going to Rachel’s after this, I thought. I hoped it wasn’t too late.
Oh, great. And then there was Cheryl and Mark to worry about. There was no telling how much later I would be, or even how much time had passed since I’d been transported here.
“Okay, that’s enough. Focus.” I shook my head. Think!
An idea popped into my mind and I stood up. I looked down at the mark on my wrist. The one time, I’d grabbed onto it and used some kind of power inside of me to get inside my heart.
Power. That was it! Starry Knight had told me herself: “All stars have a special power, even fallen stars.” I had a special kind of power, since I was a fallen star. Recalling the other times I’d felt that particular inkling of power–feeling Gwen’s emotions as I held her hand, Adam’s feeling of contentment as I’d carried him, even my own tumultuous turmoil–a sense of certainty overtook me. I was able to discern other people’s feelings.
With a renewed sense of hope, I picked up one of Mikey’s many mangled extremities. I closed my eyes and tried, feeling stupid and unsure, to see if I could sense Mikey’s emotions.
A whisper of otherness whisked up beside my power. It had to be Mikey! I silently cheered to myself; no matter how much Mikey had changed, he was still my friend, and I was glad he was alive.
Closing in on the flouting foreignness, I pushed through with my power. And then, all of a sudden, I was transported into another world.
; *☼*
Even though I was in a different world of some kind, I could still see into the one I’d left behind. Later I would liken the experience to being inside a negative of a photograph. I could still hear the alarms running through the SWORD black site, and I could feel the chill of the physical world. But for the first time, I noticed the warmth of my spirit, the engulfing waves of contentment. Straining my ears to block out the physical world, I even thought I could hear some kind of symphonic welcome song.
I could see a flaring aura around Mikey’s body, which was beckoning my curiosity.
I turned my attention back to the pit of blazing aura before me, where Mikey’s mind must be firing. Entering into the green-tinted flames, I gasped.
I looked around at the mess before me. It was a cityscape, covered in greenish goo-looking glop; Apollo City in apocalypse form. There were strands of the ooze all around me, all backdropped by the grayest skies I'd ever seen.
So this was Mikey’s heart. I grimaced; I'd never wanted to see inside of anyone’s heart, unless I was getting to perform open-heart surgery with Mark. And there were reasons I wanted to be a lawyer more than a doctor. “Mikey?” I called into the unreal city.
I took a few cautious steps and grimaced; trash was everywhere, and I saw no end to the ugliness. And a bunch of slimy stuff, too. Great, I thought, more ooze for me to fall into. Some things never change.
Walking gingerly through the shadow streets, awed and disgusted by the destruction and garbage everywhere, I continued to look for Mikey. “Mikey, where are you?”
I skidded to a halt when I at last saw my friend.
There he was, bound up in the heart of a spider's web, covered in green threads of ooze. Mikey was asleep–or at least his eyes were closed. His body was also very still, almost like he was dead, or getting there. “Mikey!”
I was about to ask him if he really wanted to miss out on next year’s football season when a sparkle caught my eye.
“Huh?” All around me was a glitter-like shimmer, spreading all around. “What is this stuff?”
A shifting sound caused me to jump. It’s poison.
I looked up to see the same blank expression on Mikey’s face. “Was that you?” I asked.
There was no movement, but the words were not to be mistaken. Yes, it’s me.
“Can you turn back into a normal person?” I need to work on my tact, I decided. Oh well. It would have to wait for now. I had to hurry.
I want to be normal again. But I am afraid.
“Why?”
Because I ruined my life. I made bad choices. I hurt people.
“What?” I was surprised to feel sympathetic towards Mikey. It was true he had committed crimes, and bad ones; I recalled quite clearly how I had burned with rage towards Mikey after getting Martha in dire straits.
But one look at the sad, teary-eyed figure, wrapped up in his own despair, and I couldn’t bring myself not to care. One glance at the mark on my wrist, and I knew I could appreciate rightfully the value of a second chance.
“Look, it’s true that you’ve done some bad things. But it doesn’t have to end with that. You wouldn’t want it to. There’s still a chance for you to do some good. You can’t give up just because it’s hard.” Or because it’s not fun, or because you have a loud-mouthed dragon hounding you day and night, I added to myself.
I yanked at the thread, trying to pull him from the deadly-looking trap. “I'll help you!”
“Leave me alone!” Mikey's eyes now snapped open, glowing green. “This is my home now.”
“No!”
“I want to be alone!” Mikey yelled, this time with enough force to send me slipping backwards. Strands of the green thread began to creep toward me, intertwining around my feet and arms.
“Stop this!” I called out, this time a hint of desperation in my voice. “I know you're not like this! You don't want to be alone or hurt anyone!”
The words had no effect.
Maybe there was something I could do as myself. It made sense, after all. Mikey didn’t know me as ‘Wingdinger,’ but he knew me as his best friend. “Mikey, it's me. It's Hamilton. Hamilton Dinger. I'm your best friend. You're like my brother, man.”
I untangled some of the spidery thread as more whip-like web strands assaulted me. “I know you've been going through a rough spot, and I haven't made it any easier. But I'm here for you! I am. And I'm sorry, Mikey . . . I'm sorry!”
Mikey stilled. The eyes burned with a fierce green before began to darken to their usual brown.
I sighed with relief. It's working. I was getting through. “Please, Mike, trust me. Fight this. You can trust me. I'll help you. Just like I did when your dad left.”
Suddenly, Mikey struggled as he began to wake up to the world.
A flash of light flickered, bubbling up all around, like a top-rated bathroom cleaner in a gas station restroom. I felt a wave of relief and satisfaction wash over me as the unreal city around slowly started to change and then fade away.
I was returning. No, we were returning.
☼22☼
Reclamation
The threads of the unreal city pulled, merging with a new reality as I held onto my friend. I fully expected to see the bland, tastelessly decorated holding cell I’d left behind in the physical world.
So much for expectations.
My eyes opened to see a world of light and sunshine, on a road of translucent substance, looking down at more than just the earth, but all the worlds and stars of the universe. Mikey’s body, hung over my shoulders, twitched wildly before once more going completely limp. Clouds wafted around me as a bright, shining light bubbled up in midair; the music I’d heard before, trapped between the physical and spiritual worlds, melded from a musical song into a powerful, if soft, fanfare.
I knew at once why I was there, if not where I was.
An invisible presence drifted out from the distance and encircled me. Recognition poured through me like Niagara Falls, fast and strong and shattering everything. My knees suddenly became unsteady as fear broke through my calm.
“Do not be afraid.” The voice was a gentle thunder, powerful as it was reassuring.
“I know who you are,” I murmured.
“Who am I?” Light manifested itself in the form of a man, and began to walk through the mesh of clouds to where I stood.
“Yes,” I remarked. “You’re the one who gave me the power to become Wingdinger when I first began to fight.”
The man of light stopped and hovered; I could see the outline of his face, and glimpse into the fires of his eyes through a veil of remaining clouds. “You did not become your supernatural self from my power. I gave you the power, and it has been yours, and will remain yours, as long as your soul is alive.”
He reached out and gently took me by the wrist; I didn’t look up at him, as much as I might have wanted to. “When you did not really want to become Wingdinger, your heart could not find the power to make a choice. The soul can be divided as easily as the mind, and the consequences are no less shattering.”
The man wrapped his arm around my shoulders, reminding me of my father briefly. Mark would do this sometimes. That was suddenly probably why I flinched and drew back. Or it was paranoia, shame, or any other of the unidentified feelings which had been swiveling around in my mind of late.
“The time has come for you to decide for yourself who you will be.”
I peeked up at him, absolutely sure I heard him but unsure of whether I should answer him.
There was a small smile on his face. I could even see the little smile lines, maybe even a hint of dimple. The white hair of his beard, contrasting with the bronze of his skin, quirked up a bit more as I relaxed and met his gaze. The question had formed inside of me long before I asked it. “Who do you say I am?”
“You are my bright Star of Mercy; a forgiven soul, a treasured light, fallen to Earth, born into human flesh, your heart still burning with true Starfire.”
It wou
ld have taken me centuries to figure out all of that, but I focused on the most important part. “Forgiven?”
“Yes.” There was no tint of uncertainty, no hesitation, no distrust.
Tears speckled my gaze and a swollen mass blocked my throat as a fragrance of peace settled around me, welcoming me home.
“Command me.”
My body shuddered with a sudden, alarming amount of fear. My fingers were trembling. “I am not worthy,” I stated slowly. “And I can’t ask anything of you, sir. I don’t even know your name.”
A wave of approval and acceptance washed over me as he said, “You may call me Adonaias.”
I felt a strangely warm terror in my heart at the sound of the name. “Adonaias,” I whispered to myself. It was a name which pulled power inside of me, even as it left me weak.
“Command me, and I will do what you ask.”
I felt my inner greed take over at the offer immediately. Love, riches, youth, insight, foresight–all of my options came running out from different corners of my mind, each one hollering out for my selection.
But what did I really want? That was the tricky part: What do I want most? “There are many things I want,” I admitted. “I would love to be rich and have a big mansion one day, and be successful at school and my jobs. But . . . but these are things I want, not things that I necessarily need.”
The patient smile remained steady. “What is it that you need, then?”
My memory flashed back to the time I’d seen Adonaias before. My situation hadn’t changed much since then. But there were some things that had changed. I was going to be a bit wiser at trusting others–and myself. I knew, looking up at Adonaias, that he could be trusted. He wasn’t trying to push something on me, or take advantage of my suffering, he was offering me anything–everything, in fact.
But what hadn’t changed was my condition. “I need your help,” I admitted at last. “You’ve helped me before, maybe even in ways that I don’t even know about.”
Adonaias nodded.