What are we?
We are so many things. We're the the whole universe, bottled up right here into a lifetime. We're imperfect and warm and soft like dirt. We're shimmering and bright and eternal like the moon.
What are we? What are we?
Humans.
Messy...
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My name is small, echoing from a distance. It bounces off the walls of my brain with loyal repetition. Over and over again. My back flies up from the cool grass.
"Peter?" I say, placing a hand on his chest. His head rises from the picnic blanket.
"Is Charles calling you too?"
"Yeah," I pull him up and he gathers the blanket into his arms, "I hope something isn't wrong." He cups the back of my head and we disappear into an indistinguishable flash.
We're in the aircraft compound when my blurred vision clears. I stabilize the mild pain in my head with a quick brush of my fingers, which find Peter's shortly after. Charles and Hank are staring at us in the corridor.
"Thank you both for your haste. I'm afraid we need you for a mission that just came up," Charles tells us with his eyes closed, like he's currently connected to dozens of people right now. Hank takes over for him while he concentrates.
"It's urgent. We gotta move out in fifteen minutes. A shuttle combusted and the whole crew is stranded. They're running out of air fast," Hank informs us while rapidly typing something into a computer, preparing the launch of the rocket fifty feet away from us.
"Uh. No go, man. We gotta punch her dad in an hour, remember?" Peter replies, tightening his grip on my hand.
Hank finally looks away from the screen, "Shit. I forgot about that." Someone comes bursting in through the doors, and I know by the shift in Hank's energy who it is.
"Suit up," Raven tells us, "We need all hands on deck."
"They can't go. They have something else to take care of," Hank answers.
Raven shakes her head, her expression still calm. But I can sense the anxiety building up in the pit of her stomach, "That's not gonna work. This is a time sensitive mission. Peter's an essential part of the plan."
I glance at Peter then back to Raven, "He can go with you. I can go punch Shaw alone."
"Woah, woah, woah—" Peter starts.
"Wait, Shaw? Isn't he supposed to be dead?" Raven questions.
"It's a long story," Hank mumbles.
"We don't have time for long stories," Raven states.
"He's my dad," I explain with a frown, "and he's a dick. That's the gist of it."
"Wow, everyone just has a famous dad, huh?" She puts a hand to the side of her face, her flesh-colored face instead of its natural blue, "Firefly, can you handle this? Or at least try to put it off until we come back?"
