Wings of Honor: Meeting The Enemy

Chapter 1: Damage Control

The only thing I remember is an earthquake to rival the one felt at San Francisco. I remember my friends, family, fighting over power, who should control it, whether it should even be ours to control in the first place. I remember a great, dark, shape rise out of the ground. As if Satan himself was arising from the depths of the earth, dressed in ebony and vantablack, with only a few lines crafted from the silver souls of his dominion.
I remember firing the first shot.

"Marvin!"
Fire lashed around us, over the top of our heads. The desert sun beat down on us, in our private little shooting gallery.
"Marvin!"
I looked up and saw my mentor. My friend. The brother of my second in command. My first friend. My first leader. My first death.
I saw him on the ground. I saw the inside of his neck. The blood rolling down from his nose and mouth. His open eyes, eyes, eyes; distant, and lifeless.
He was dead.
And I was still here.

Suddenly, I was back to Earth, aiming down my Springfield scope irons, absorbing the recoil of a shot. Before I could react, I instinctively racked the bolt and let another loose. But then I saw the tracer bounce harmlessly off the NightWing's wings, reflecting back at us, skipping off the ground, and nearly killing Moon!
"CHECK! CHECK!"
I held my hand out, trying to stop Travers.
"DISENGAGE! DISENGAGE!"
Travers looked at me, terrified. But I also felt another mind, frozen in terror and shock.
Grace! Snap out of it! We need to move!
Grace blinked, shaking her head, then freezing all over again as Darkstalker loomed towards us.
"We need to get out of here! Grace!" I patted her neck. "Get us out of here!"
With a sharp inhale, she took one last look at Moon.
I'm not abandoning you Moon.
The other NightWing watched us with wide eyes.
Splaying her wings and raising them high, we disappeared into thin air, with only the speck of Travers making it all but possible to track us.
Grace's mind was white as she flew with rapid, irregular wingbeats. She about hyperventilated with shaky breaths.
Travers's rifle rattled as he tried to calm himself from the engagement. His mind was running too fast to be intelliagable.
Even I was not spared. The rough handling of my Springfield chipped a lense and threw the scope out of alignment. My hands also shook badly, unable to hold a steady aim anymore. I just hugged Grace with wide eyes, trying to find a place where we could retreat to.
There was a cave up in the mountains that still had eyes on Jade Mountain. It was far enough away to be disengaged, but close enough to keep eyes on it. Roughly 600 yards away from where we were.
Grace came to a rough landing, catching a bolder and skidding to a stop outside the cave.
"Ow-how." She groaned weakly. Tears flooding her eyes.
Travers and I slid down, while I focused about tending to Grace. Adrenaline still coursing through my system, making me breath hard and fast. I had Grace roll over, revealing a nice gash along her underbelly.
"Ahh." I dug out the medic bag, fixing a cloth and some duck tape. I had her roll over, exposing the white line along my baby's black scales, giving way to a dark red river that ozzed and quickly soiled the cloth. I secured the cut with tape, doing my best to close it with tension. But even though it didn't, it was still protected by the cloth square held in place with copious amount of tape. Once I was satisfied with Grace's dressing, now I looked to Travers.
"SITREP Travers."
He was standing adjacent the cave wall, but he still watched the other wall with a distant stare, holding his rifle loosely by the front sling swivel.
"Travers!" I yelled, more sharply than I intended, especially with the cave echo. He jumped, bringing his rifle to bear, and then looking at me. "SITREP." was all I said. He sighed and racked his rifle.
I returned to Grace, rubbing her neck as she groaned and teared. There was nothing I could do for a wound that badly. I didn't have enough morphine for her anymore. The only thing I could do was give her the dextrose sugar cubes. She eagerly lapped them up, but the sweet wasn't able to overpower the pain. She still lie there in agony.
The bandage was off center, there was some slack in the tape, there were bubbles in the bandage, some even sticking into her wound. The cloth was already badly bloddied, and the tape was already threatening to peal off. There was nothing else that I could do to help her. It was up to her now. There was nothing I could do.

I dug a fire pit. I set up the rations. I made sure there was a bed of leaves, overlayed by a tarp for her to lay on. I pitched the tent, drilling through cold stone. I was the one who brought McManis up to speed. And I was the one who saw Goldman aproach Darkstalker. Him barely under the cover of a mountain, but I still made out his oversized shape. The Jade Winglet, most of them, too terrified to speak out.
I sighed, withdrawing with my glasses back to my stricken section. Travers stared blankly into the fire. The rattle of Grace's scales against stone. She shook badly, and had her tailed curled around her. She curled into a ball as tightly as she could manage. The flickering orange illuminated the red square amongst her night black scales, but her breathing had stabilized now. Her mind was still blinded with red, and the terrible cold still enveloped her. I tried stoking the fire further, with the wood I cut for us. But no matter what I did, even with a fire large enough to be seen outside of the cave, she still shook with a terrible shudder.
"Travers. Ammo count." I said, holding my glasses loosely with my left.
"Six rounds expended." He said solemnly. "I have nine goods and a partial. Four rifle grenades. Two frag, two smoke. Two hand frags still."
I nodded.
"How are you holding up Grace?"
She responded with a groan. "I failed."
"No you did not." I quickly said.
But then there was an audible snap.
"WHY DID YOU GO WITH MOON, GRACE? WHY DID YOU TAKE THE SCROLL!" He started for her, only to be blocked by me. But even still, he lashed at her. "YOU COULDVE STOPPED PERIL! YOU COULDVE STOPPED HER! YOU COULD'VE STOPPED MOON! YOU COULD'VE STOPPED DARKSTALKER!" His rage expended, he slumped in my arms, sobbing. "You could've stopped Goldman."
While I eased Travers back to the fire, I heard a sound coming from the dark shape in the corner. I walked back up to her, bearing the terrible sorrow that she had come to know, and I knew all too well.
"Hey." I ran my hand up her side and neck. Her scales cold to the touch, as if she was an IceWing. Her scales twitching and contorting under my touch. She was freezing. Even next to the fire, she was freezing.
I walked around to her mouth, offering her my marinara. She accepted it with a groan, and tried to scoop the red sauce out herself, but her coordination was shattered.
"Here. Lay out our tounge."
She did. I spooned out the warm, chunky, food for her. She ate it up with a long sigh.
For what little instant she was content, I bore a smile. But as the situation began to dawn on me, and what little I had to react with, I took a deep breath.
Walking back out to the dawn and seeing those two black, evil figures at the base of the mountain, and my friends under the biggest threat they have ever faced. I hung my head with one final sigh. I returned to the fire, taking a seat cross legged.
I was finally safe for a moment. The war had paused for just a moment. A moment to permit a single tear. But one tear became two, two became a river, and a river grew into full on sobbing.
Under the cover of the dawn, sitting by myself in front of the fire, utterly defeated, I let down my barriers for just a moment.
My friends. My family. My responsibilities. My obligations. All of it.
I had to carry the weight of the world, so many worlds. Their hopes and dreams, their lives.
It was so much to carry.
So much.

I cried.