Geh...this was an annoying chapter. Had to rewrite it a bunch of times, and I'm still not satisfied with it. So before I go crazy, here it is!! (I never want to write a huge military battle that involves planning again. I prefer small, chaotic fights that make no sense! :P)

THIRTY - FIVE

“Can you do it?”

Four of them huddled together: a Smoke, Mountain, and a pale yellow flyer all crowded around Jett, carefully shielding his small form from the view of the five war machines that were scattered across the field. Well, Nibran's huge frame was practically curled around Jett's, while the other two flyers were pressing in on the sides.

It hadn't taken long for the flyers to figure out that the machines shot first after everything that had a heat signature. Then when everything was stone cold, they shot at everything that moved even slightly. Within mere minutes, nearly all of the soldiers had been taken out. The flyers were better off – their suits masked their heat signature, acting as camouflage from the machines' eyes.

Jett was grateful for their efforts that shielded him, because their bodies blocked the view. The sight of the burnt corpses of people he had known or met – those images burned themselves into his brain, and he knew he'd never forget them.

“Jett?” Nibran's voice rumbled. It brought the Talon trainee back to reality. Back to the task he'd been asked to do. Can you do it? “Look, if you think you can't, it's fine. We'll figure something else out.”

Something else? There isn't anything else! If I can't do this. . .then we're as good as dead. Jett took a deep breath. The situation was painfully clear. He was the only one who had a chance at it, and if it was something he could do to help end those freakish metal machines, then. . .

“I'll try,” he nodded, albeit shakily. “I'll do it.” If only Raven were here. . .

The Smoke flyer seemed to stare at him for a long moment. It was hard to tell, because of that annoying black visor that completely concealed his face. Then he nodded. “All right. Just to confirm, we'll quickly go over it once more, before we let the others know.”

He leaned down, and dragged a finger through the brown dirt. Jett watched as the flyer drew a simple replication of one of the machines. The thing was basically a giant metal ball that had two tiers of guns, and two round orbs – one on the very top, and one on the very bottom. And of course, the two stubby legs that held the whole thing up.

“So,” the Smoke flyer tapped the drawing, his finger kicking up a small puff of dust. “These things have upper and lower sets of guns, right? The upper set, which is mostly made up of long range missiles and such, is guided by this -” he pointed the round orb at the very top of the orb, then moved his finger down to the bottom orb. “-and this guides the lower set, which are strictly short range laser. Simple enough design, but effective enough to prevent us from getting close enough to take them out.”

He paused, making sure that Jett and the others were following him. The pale yellow flyer, with his back to the group, was keeping a watchful eye on the machines. One lifted a foot awkwardly, and plummeted it down as it took another step in their direction. Thud. The ground trembled beneath its movement.

“Hurry it up,” the pale flyer warned. “If it gets any closer, it'll spot the kid.”

In response, the red Smoke flyer glanced up, caught sight of the nearing machine. He quickly returned to his drawing. “Yeah, okay. So it seems that the smaller guns at the bottom here are strictly for defense. They're rapid fire laser cannons, so anyone that gets near has to face a rain of laser bolts. Which makes pretty much impossible for anyone of us to get close enough to hack off one of their legs. But you, Jett. . .you just might be fast enough to get in there.”

“And destroy the bottom black round thing?” Jett asked. “Are you sure that's going to stop the guns?”

“Well. . .” the red flyer shrugged. “I'm not sure. . .”

“It should,” Nibran put in. “If the guidance system is destroyed, the weapons should automatically freeze up.”

“That's the plan, anyway.” The Smoke flyer reached into one of his pouches, being careful so that the movement wasn't noticed by the nearest machine. He withdrew a pair of goggles, and handed them to Jett. “Here. Take off your helmet and put these on.”

The Talon trainee was all too happy to take off his helmet – despite its air filters, it got a bit stuffy. He dropped it on the ground, giving his head a little shake. The goggles had thick, black lenses, and even thicker, dull gray rims. Pulling them on, he found that his vision became black, white, and somewhat fuzzy. “What are these?”

“They'll let you see through fog, smoke, or any other vapor that might impede your vision. You'll be needing these, since we'll be keeping you covered with smoke grenades. Hopefully, that'll prevent the other machines from closing in on you. Now, you know what to do?”

Thud. The ground shook as the war machine took another step closer, searching for any target it could incinerate.

Jett shivered, fighting against the nervousness coiled in his gut. “I just need to destroy the bottom orb, which should disable the bottom guns. But there's still the second set -”

“Don't worry about it,” Nibran cut in. His voice sounded strained. “Just take out those things, and leave the rest to us. You ready?”

He swallowed, and looked down at his feet. A gun lay there, having been given to him earlier by the Smoke flyer. Filled with a fresh cartridge, it had enough energy for about fifty shots. He just had to pull the trigger. He preferred his sword, but the sighting orb was too high for him to reach. Jett picked up the gun, and slung it across his chest. I guess this is it. If I survive this, it'll be a miracle... “I'm ready,” he whispered.

“Good. We'll crowd the rest with thermal grenades, but you'll still have to be careful. All right. Nibran, will you let the others know of the plan?”

“Will do.”

The Smoke flyer very carefully glanced around, eyeing the other flyers across the field. They all remained completely motionless, because as soon as they moved, the machines would open fire. Then he looked down at Jett, and smiled, though his red-marked helmet hid it. “You'll do fine, kid.”

Jett guess that the flyer was trying to give him some encouragement. It really didn't work. His mind was telling him that he was completely stupid for even considering this plan, while his body was busy shaking with nervous terror. Their message was clear: he was probably going to die.

“It's a go,” Nibran suddenly stated.

The red Smoke flyer nodded once. “Okay, Jett. On my signal. The rest of you, get your smoke grenades ready.” He held up three fingers.

“'Kay,” Jett whispered. He shifted his feet beneath him, still keeping in a crouched position. Terrified panic tried to close in on his mind, but he somehow manged to force it back. Focus. Just focus only on what you have to do. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a long, deep breath. A strange coolness gently floated within, sharpening his focus, steadying his trembling limbs. He could do this. He was going to do this.

Having calmed his racing heart somewhat, he slowly opened his eyes. He was ready.

“Now!” the Smoke flyer hissed, suddenly leaping up and away. At the same time, Nibran also moved back, releasing Jett from his shielding embrace.

The instant his path was clear, Jett threw himself forward, his eyes zeroing in on the nearest machine. It was only yards away.

Someone threw a small black ball in front of him. It immediately exploded, pouring out thick black smoke that blanketed the entire area. Jett shot straight into it, disappearing within its protective cover.

At the same time, all the remaining flyers, all over the battlefield, jerked into motion. Thermal grenades went off all over the place, creating high-intensity heat pockets that drew the machines' attention. Flyers engaged four of the machines, attempting to draw them farther apart from each other.

Jett rapidly approached the fifth machine, which had, by now, been completely blanketed in a thick, smokey fog. Half blinded, it fired at the approaching heat signature. Thanks to his goggles, Jett could make out the shape of the machine, and the bright bolts of laser heading in his direction.

He dug in a heel, and in less than a second, changed direction. The machine responded by raising a spindly leg. Thud. It twisted around, facing him head on, and focused eight of its twelve lower guns on him.

Eight death-inducing weapons. Jett's eyes zoomed in on those guns, and everything faded away into the background. Even the bodies of the fallen were automatically jumped over, or navigated around, as he lost nearly all awareness of them.

The hot wind began to blow some of the smoke away, creating an open pocket of air. For a just a moment, Jett caught a glimpse of a brown/tan flyer charging a distant machine, and then another grenade went off, fogging the area over.

The goggles certainly did their job. Although edges were fuzzy, and colors no longer existed, he could clearly make out the machine. Especially those sparks coming from the tips of those long gun barrels. Wait, sparks?

Jett's eyes widened, and he immediately spun off to the side. The instant he moved away, the spot was totally decimated by lasers. Move it, move it, move it! He chanted in his head. Just a little more to go, before he reached the machine itself. If he could evade those lasers 'til then. . .

His vision suddenly filled with bright white light, completely blinding him. Oh, ....!! He launched forward into a crazy dive, his feet leaving the ground, and his body becoming horizontal. Something sizzled behind him, and he could feel intense heat at his back. Then he hit the ground, hands breaking his fall. He rolled, got his feet under him, and was up once more.

Jett swerved around another ball of laser, then zigged and zagged. His vision was becoming filled with white spots, and his scalp prickled strangely. Yet, he moved even faster, desperation and adrenaline sending strength to his legs.

It began to rain, to pour. A cascade of laser lights, so brilliant in their beauty, so intense in their heat. A lake of liquid fire plummeted down, surrounding him. Jett lost all ability of thought. There was only a sense of a purpose, an instinct, a terrible focus to survive. He floated and he danced among the rain, swirling around, and darting onward.

Despite all the chaotic movement, there was a strange stillness. A quietness. The eye of the storm. It was like it was all a dream, or maybe he was an intangible thing drifting in the midst of a fiery war. It seemed to last for hours, but in reality, it was a mere moment.

Then -

- everything stopped.

The storm of laser ended. Jett abruptly snapped back to full awareness, coming to a standstill, his whole body trembling with adrenaline or exhaustion, or both. He looked up. Directly above his head was the cloudy black orb of the war machine.

He had made it. A sense of disbelief descended upon him, and he wondered if he was actually dead, and just somehow hallucinating that he was still alive. It would explain his warped vision – oh wait, those were the goggles. So maybe he wasn't dead. In that case. . .

The machine seemed to tremble above him, its joints creaking with every slight motion. Something deep inside the beast thrummmed steadily. Clouds of thick smoke wafted throughout the air, curling and dancing as the wind blew it gently about. Then he realized something.

Something smelled like it was burnt. Kinda like meat cooked way too long over the fire.

And besides that, there was no sign of any laser gunfire, which meant that he now stood in its blind spot. Well, the thing could probably see him, since he was right beneath one of their eyeballs, but because of machine's circular shape, their weapons couldn't maneuver to get at him. Aw, poor big killing machine couldn't kill him!!

The machine suddenly lifted a leg, creaking as its immense weight shifted over to the other. It twisted, and took a step to the side; the dark sighting orb passed over Jett's head. Almost instantly, three of the lower guns caught sight of Jett, and fired upon him.

“Gegh!!” He dove back under the machine's belly, mentally kicking himself for spacing out. The laser bolts slammed into the ground mere inches away. Focus, Jett, focus!! Don't just stand there stupidly...! He removed the gun from his shoulders, hefted it up, and aimed awkwardly. He swallowed once, then pulled the trigger. Blue laser spat out the muzzle, and the recoil knocked his small frame to the ground.

Somebody close by suddenly screamed; their cry ended with a choked gargle. Jett flinched, and got up onto one knee. Can't waste any more time. Bracing himself, he raised the gun once more. He pulled the trigger again and again, sending bolts crashing into the orb.

His aim was terrible. Most hit around the target. However, enough laser bolts must've hit the orb, because a crack grew in its surface, and splintered across it with every direct hit. Then, with one final impact, the black dome exploded, shattering outwards, sending dark fragments falling onto Jett's head and shoulders.

Beneath where the protective cover of the dome had been, mechanical equipment sparked and smoked. It was clearly broken. I hope this works. . . Jett shouldered his weapon, and got to his feet. His legs trembled nervously, as he prepared to test out his handiwork. He gulped, and warily walked backwards so that he could keep a close eye on the machine's guns.

The surrounding cover of smoke had begun to thin, and he was able to catch glimpses of flyers running amidst a hailstorm of red and yellow laser bolts. Don't get distracted! He refocused his attention upwards, and quickened his pace into a smooth, backward trot. The instant he came into the guns' range, he tensed, preparing to run.

Nothing happened. The huge, ugly weapons didn't move. A giddy grin spread across his face. He'd done it! Now he just had to do this another four times. . .

His stomach lurched unsteadily, as that sickly sweet stench of burnt flesh filled his nose. Must be all those burnt dead people. . . Giving his head a little shake, and panned his surroundings, locating the nearest machine. It was currently trying to incinerate two flyers who were keeping just out of range of its laser cannons.

Jett crouched, and smiled a dark, grim little smile. You're next. . .! He exploded into motion, and ripped through the remaining cloud of smoke. At once, the two flyers saw him coming. They threw down more smoke grenades, and backed off, while others descended upon the crippled war machine.

A safe distance away from the battlefield, three figures stood motionlessly. All three were Kairg flyers, who silently watched the war going on in the distance. Still, silent observers that emotionlessly watched the death and destruction unfold before them.

XxX

He was only a mere twenty minutes away, but to Raven, it seemed like a lifetime. By the time he arrived, it would probably be all over. Every last TroKas soldier and flyer would be dead, demolished by Ra'Skevvor's cursed metal beasts of war. The Talon ground his teeth angrily, and pulled in his wings in even more. That bastard. . .! If only I could wring his worthless neck!

Both boosters were going full blast, and his wings were almost half-folded, in an attempt to make himself as streamlined as possible. He was already flying as fast as humanely possible – at this speed, directional changes were all but impossible.

But those things were far from his mind. Right now, he had to focus on getting there as fast as possible. Come on, kid. . .stay alive until I get there.

Ten minutes behind him came Gray and Fent. Both were having their own concerned thoughts. Fent was hoping that the entire outpost wasn't demolished by the time they'd arrive, while Gray was trying to figure out why Raven was all worked up. He would've gone with the 'usual-angry-mood-after-visiting-evil-father' thing, but this was the first time he'd seen the dark Talon actually worried. Even the news that five death-causing monsters were marching onto some camp usually wouldn't have bothered Raven so much – he was just that kind of laid-back guy who laughed in the face of death.

So what could it be?

An image of an annoying, dark-haired, dark-eyed brat popped in front of his mind's eye. . . . .the kid?

The heck is going on?

XxX

The entire TroKas force was slowly converging upon the center of the Front. Long lines of soldiers marched in unison, while large trucks carrying supplies drove on beside them. A few Scouting flyers flew in slow, languid circles above, keeping watch. Other flyers merely sat on top of the trucks, while others walked beside the marching troops. The council of TroKas – the elders themselves – were also making a straight beeline for the convergence point. Everyone would gather together – even the famous Twelve, who where each legendary in their own right.

Within twenty-four hours, the first of the troops would start arriving at the center outpost of the Front. And within two weeks, the whole mighty TroKas force would gather in one place, ready for war.

They were coming.

XxX

Suil trembled violently. He sat on the ground, surrounding by the burnt corpses of TroKas soldiers. He didn't dare move, even when one of those giant things fired off some kind of missile that exploded right in front of him. He was way out of his league. He knew that. If he tried to get up and fight, he'd be dead within seconds.

And so he could only cower where he sat, hiding behind the camouflaging effect of his trainee's suit, utterly helpless. He could only watch as everyone died before his eyes.

Beside him, Iern suddenly jerked, retching violently inside his helmet. Suil was beyond grimacing at the disgusting act, beyond imagining what it must be like trying not breathe in your own vomit that was trapped inside your helmet. Iern, to his credit, kept his movements to the minimum. He too, knew the importance of keeping still. While his suit protected him from being seen thermally, the machines were still very sensitive to any kind of movement.

They had learned that the hard way, when one of the other trainees grouped with them had tried to get up and run away. He hadn't taken more than two steps before one of the machines shot a smoldering hole straight through his back.

It was just him, Iern, and one more kid. Craig was his name. Suil only knew that Craig was going to be a River flyer if he ever survived that long. He closed his eyes, and tried to tune out the thud-thud and the buzzing of laser. There used to be a lot of screams as people died. But now, there was strange stillness, as only a few survived.

And most of them were flyers. Flyers....the only ones who had yet to give up. Suil forced himself to open his eyes, and look out over the field. Most of it was covered in smoke that wafted about. He couldn't see any of what was going on, save for the occasional flyer that ran out of the smoke. Suil admired them for their determination. If it were him, he'd have given up long ago. And Jett. . .

Was Jett even alive? Suil hadn't seen him since the beginning of the whole ugly thing. His small friend had disappeared amongst the flyers and smoke, and for all he knew, Jett could be nothing more than a smoking, charred pile of -

Kreee -BOOM!! The ground suddenly shook under a sudden earthquake, causing Suil to nearly jump to his feet in shock. What's going on? That was the second one – did something explode? Is it the machines?

Suil squinted, trying to see past the smoke. It was thinning in some areas, and he was able to make out a faint fuzzy shape. Beside him, Iern moaned miserably, to preoccupied with trying not to choke on his own stomach contents.

“Look!” Craig whispered suddenly, his voice carried over via the radio link that the trainees shared. “They did it – they took one down!”

The smoke had blown away enough in one area to reveal a fallen machine. Its guns and legs twitched faintly, as sparks danced about it. Three flyers backed away from it, having ensured that it was now harmless. One shouted to the others, and they all ran back into the dark smoke.

Suil's heart leapt as hope began to return to him. That explosion. . .it was probably them taking down that machine. In that case, they've taken down two. . .and that leaves three. If they keep it up, we just might get out of this alive...! “Come on,” he whispered, slowly clenching his fists, “come on. . .”

XxX

His legs gave way, and he collapsed heavily. His chest heaved as his lungs desperately tried to suck in oxygen. Trembling, he looked up, seeing the shattered orb and sparking mechanics. This was the third machine.

And despite the smooth, inner cold that helped him keep his focus, he could feel that his body was reaching its limits. Jett had never pushed himself this much in such a short time. Before this whole battle had even started, he'd spent most of the day playing a tag-type game trying to improve his abilities, so he hadn't been in peak shape. It all seemed so stupid now. . .

That acrid smell of burnt flesh filled his nose, and his stomach only weakly protested. He was used to the smell – it was all over the place, and every

time he stopped moving, it seemed to reach out and choke him. The stench of death.

So tired. . .he just wanted to lay down and sleep. But he couldn't. There's two left. Just two left. . .come on, get up. You can do it. Besides, he had to get out of the way before the others came in to take the machine down. And he had to stop the other two before more people died.

Jett clenched his teeth, and forced all of his strength down to his legs. Get up, get up..! The two limbs trembled like two pieces of jelly, and twitched weakly. Beyond that, they didn't respond. He growled in frustration, and looked over to his left, where the last two war machines stomped about. They were extremely close together, giving the few remaining flyers the times of their lives. Even as he watched, a Smoke flyer was caught between a burst of laser fire from both machines. Only a few small pieces remained to fall to the ground.

He shuddered, his insides wrenching themselves into a terrible knot. No. . .I gotta get up, gotta stop. . . Gritting his teeth, he tried again, determined to not let this little weakness stop him. He was going to be a flyer, and flyers did not collapse from exhaustion in the middle of a battlefield.

The machine creaked above, and it stepped awkwardly away, it's scarred belly passing right over him. Jett growled again, the feeling of urgency only increasing. He planted one foot, and slowly rose up on a knee. From there, he stood unsteadily. His legs trembled with weakness, but that was fine. He was not going to fall again.

No matter what, he would stay on his feet until the whole thing was over. Behind his goggles, his dark eyes narrowed with determination as he faced the last two machines. The smoke was growing thin now, as the flyers were nearly out of grenades. It didn't matter. It had to stop. I will stop those things, even if it's the last thing I do!!

He stepped forward, and his leg nearly gave way again. He pushed on, increasing his pace until he was in a wobbly , steadily, he increased his pace, willing strength to his legs. I will not fall. . .I will not fall!

As he approached, the one machine stepped even closer to the other. Together, they rained death upon the flyers, who desperately tried to maintain a cover cloud of smoke. They were failing, as they were down to their last few grenades. Yet they refused to give up. The third machine was about to fall, and here came the kid.

To their eyes, Jett was merely a black blur that shot past them, and directly into the range of laser fire. They immediately set about using their last thermal grenades to buy Jett some time from the eyes of the last machine.

XxX

The dark Talon swooped low over the earth, preparing for his descent. For he already could hear the distant sounds of battle, and knew that it was only a matter of moments before he arrived. The faint buzzing of laser, and abrupt explosions lent him hope. The fight was still going, being fought by those who yet survived.

He flew on, a dark, menacing falcon preparing to descend upon the enemy with all the rage and ferocity of a thunderous lightening strike.

XxX

A few more steps, and he would reach the blind spot. If he could make it past this torrent of deadly rain, he would be safe. Jett twirled around a thin blast of laser, and dashed towards the belly of the machine. It was like a frightful race, a contest that the machine was loathe to lose. Two of its guns pivoted, and spewed out dozens of red bolts. They forced him to spin to the side, where another torrent sent him dancing even further out.

Bad move.

In a split instant, Jett became frighteningly aware of two things. He had foolishly lost track of his entire surroundings. And now he was in range of both machines.

Both metal monsters focused on the brilliant spot of heat in their vision. They fired.

Jett instantly reacted, making a split second decision. The machines were almost side-by side, so there was only one way to go. He exploded into a full-out sprint, charging directly into the line of fire from the closer machine. His feet seemed to move on their own, carrying him through the cascade of death. And for a moment, as the belly of the machine loomed before him, it seemed like he would make it.

He stretched out, lengthening his strides as the realization hit him. Almost -- !

Four steps away from the target, he was hit. A narrow laser bolt dove into his left thigh, causing him to pitch forward as that leg gave out completely. No -- ! Another bolt furrowed through his side, while another flew over his scalp, missing it by a centimeter. Jett saw the ground coming up to meet him. No! I won't fall! I won't fall! I will not fall!!

He stopped his fall with a hand, pushed himself up. Forcing his crippled leg to bear his weight, he threw himself forward. He dove through the remaining laser fire, miraculously escaping their kiss by mere breaths of air. He hit the ground, somersaulted, and somehow landed in an awkward kneeling position.

Jett immediately slipped the gun from his shoulders with shaking hands, nearly dropping it as its weight almost proved too much. He hefted it, and aimed in the general direction of the orb. It was hard to tell, because his vision seemed to becoming even more fuzzy. Stupid. . .goggles. . . Trembling fingers grasped the said goggles, and pulled them off his face. His vision improved marginally.

He grasped the gun tightly. Pulled the trigger. The gun spat out a total of five bolts before its cartridge ran empty. Jett cursed and threw the weapon aside. He tiredly looked up, his vision hazing in and out. Despite his eyes attempt to drive him crazy, he was able to see a faint crack marred the surface. If only he had more cartridges. Even a almost empty one would do – just a few more bolts would do the job. Or another gun.

But his was now useless. And he didn't even have grenades that he could throw up there. So what did he have? He looked down at himself. Nothing. Nothing but . . .wait. The sword. His sword! His gaze shifted back up. That was a long ways to reach. If he jumped – no, that still wouldn't be enough. So. How to get the sword up there?

Either grow another five feet really fast, or . . .throw it. Jett found himself smiling widely. He didn't know why he was smiling, except that he was feeling strangely giddy. And tired. So very, very tired.

Stop that! He scolded himself, trying to get a grip. Take this thing out quick, because you've got one more after this . . .! Right. Jett reached for his sword. His arm was incredibly heavy, and it took amazing effort to move it. Come on. . . His fingers grasped it tightly, and he shifted his other hand over to activate it. It took only a few seconds, but the whole ordeal seemed to last a week. It left him gasping for air, and shaking violently.

He shifted his weight onto his injured leg's knee, and got his other foot flat against the ground. Gripping his sword by the handle, he aimed it upwards, the blue laser-coated blade humming brightly.

Okay. On the count of three. One.

His muscles tensed as he gathered whatever meager amount of strength he could. Two.

A puff of breath escaped his mouth, and he mentally shouted. Three! He surged upwards, his good leg propelling him up and off the ground into a jump. At the pinnacle of his jump, he threw the sword at the orb, hoping that his hazy vision and aim wouldn't fail him. As he dropped down, he gazed upwards, watching as his short sword flew up. It slammed into the orb at a crazy angle, yet somehow, it stuck fast. Jett slammed into the ground, having no energy left to break his fall.

He lay on his back, and stared up at the orb. Cracks splintered across it, and shortly after, it simply fell apart. Shards of black material broke out of place, revealing that the sword was imbedded deep inside sparking equipment.

Jett smiled. He'd done it. Now for the last. He made to roll over, but his body didn't respond. A little confused, he tried again, but it was like his brain was disconnected from the rest of him. I. . .I can't move?

He became aware of that sickly smell of burnt flesh once again. Jett tried to move his head to look, but it was futile. His body had all but shut down. Strangely enough, it didn't bother him. He was weirdly relaxed. I guess that's it, then. I hope the others can take care of the rest. . .

His eyes gently closed. All sounds began to slowly fade away, which was a good thing, because suddenly, there was an awful lot of shouting. It was annoying. Please. . .hurry up . . .and go away, noise. . .

The ground shook violently beneath him, and there was a sudden, deafening Kree-BOOM, one explosion after the other, that jerked him back to full awareness. His eyes flew open, and he took in a deep shuddering gasp.

“Jett?” Someone called out his name. “Jett! My God, Jett. . .you're alive!” A dark, blurry form towered over him, and Jett vaguely realized that he could see the sky. It was a beautiful blue. . .a freedom blue. The dark form rushed in closer, and the voice became even louder. “Jett! Come on, snap out of it! You're not dead yet. . “

He couldn't see very well, but Jett recognized that voice. And never in his entire life had he felt so relieved, or happy. “Raven. . .”

“That's right, kid, it's me. I'm here.” The Talon flyer wrapped his arms around Jett, holding him close. “I'm here. . .”

Jett suddenly remembered something important. “The machine! I gotta -” he tried to break free from Raven, but only succeeded in twitching weakly.

“It's all right, I took care of it. It's over.” The arms loosened a bit, and Jett was able to make out a smudged round circle that he assumed was Raven's head. He relaxed.

“That's good. I'm. . .glad.” He tried to shift his head so that he could see Raven better. He moaned when it didn't work.

“What's wrong?” Raven's voice exclaimed, slightly higher in pitch than usual. “Does it hurt?”

“. . .no. But I can't. . .move. And my eyes. . .are broken.” With that said, Jett relaxed, and closed his eyes. In mere seconds, he was completely out of it.