Scizor walked beside me, silent as ever, wings folded tight against his back. The glow from his thrusters flickered faintly with each step.
"You were incredible today," I said. "But we need to keep sharpening that speed. Burgh's arena made it obvious, if you can move just a fraction faster, you'll outpace anything short of a teleport."
He glanced at me, the faintest nod.
We cut through a narrow row of trees into Castelia Park. The field there had been reinforced by the PAP council for trainer use, a smooth stretch of soft turf framed by benches and old iron lamp posts. The park's maintenance drone hovered nearby, scanning idly as I activated its shield dome. A translucent shimmer enclosed the field, sealing us in.
The clock on my PokéGear read 3:04 p.m.
"Three hours," I said. "Let's move."
Scizor stepped forward as the PAP drone's voice chimed: "Simulation mode: agility tier four. Commencing."
A series of red discs materialized in midair, darting erratically across the field. Scizor's thrusters ignited with a low, metallic hiss.
Short bursts, I reminded him. Don't chase, anticipate.
He vanished. One instant, he was standing still; the next, he was a blur of red metal and vapor trails. The first disc shattered into sparks, the second a heartbeat later.
He pivoted, slid across the grass, then launched upward, cleaving through a cluster of targets that scattered like startled birds.
By the time he landed, three more discs were converging on him from different angles. He boosted sideways, narrowly dodging two, but the third clipped his shoulder.
Again, I projected, my tone firmer. You saw it coming. Trust the motion.
Scizor steadied, claws flexing. The thrusters on his back pulsed once, twice, and then, he split.
For a second, I thought my vision blurred. There were two of him, then three, all darting in perfect synchronization. They cut across the field, claws striking with surgical precision until every target had shattered.
The holograms flickered out, and the drone's monotone voice followed:
"Technique registered. Double Team added to Scizor's move set."
Scizor landed hard, chest heaving, the faint heat from his armor turning the drizzle on the shield's surface into steam.
I grinned. "You've been holding out on me."
He tilted his head, one claw raised as if to shrug.
I powered down the dome and sank onto the nearest bench, still catching my breath. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and ozone. My reflection rippled faintly on the damp glass of my PokéPad screen as I unlocked it and searched for Pokémon with a red collar.
Thousands of irrelevant results, fan art, rumor threads, and fake sightings, but when I narrowed the filters to verified documentation, only one name remained.
Darkrai.
I frowned. "No way."
The entry described a crimson haze that sometimes formed around Darkrai's neck when it entered a heightened emotional state. Scholars called it a collar of rage, a visual bleed of nightmare energy.
I stared at the glowing text until the words blurred. "It wasn't that," I whispered. "It couldn't have been."
Darkrai, the nightmare Pokémon. The idea was ridiculous.
Still, the memory from the gym's projection wouldn't leave me. The park. My mom. The swing set. The red.
The first droplets of rain struck the screen, scattering the reflection. I looked up. The sky had gone a deep, bruised gray. The clock read 6:02 p.m.
"Alright, big guy," I called. "That's enough for today."
Scizor powered down his thrusters, steam curling from the vents in his armor. We started back toward the hotel, the rain picking up until it was a steady, whispering sheet. The streets glowed with reflected light, orange and blue, the faint pulse of the city breathing beneath the storm.
I told myself the weight in my chest was just exhaustion. That the strange, cold pull in the back of my mind was nothing. I could hear Scizor's metallic footsteps a few paces behind me.
Then they stopped.
The abrupt silence caught my attention. I turned.
He stood a few paces back, motionless, optics glowing faint amber as they swept across the tree line on the far side of the street.
"What is it?" I asked, taking a step toward him.
He didn't answer.
Just as he began to lower into a fighting stance, a searing orange light ripped through the rain.
I couldn't even call out before the Hyper Beam landed dead center. The sound tore through the park, a roaring, metallic crack that drowned out my own scream. Scizor was thrown backward like a rag doll, the impact ripping him off his feet and launching him through the brick wall of a nearby building. Masonry and dust erupted into the rain.
I stumbled back, shielding my face from the blast wind. My ears rang. Through the haze of dust and rain, three figures stepped out from behind the trees.
Black-and-blue armor with visored helmets. The same style of the thugs that attacked us at the Pier-19 Warehouse. But something stood out: each of them now wore a stylized emblem of a blue shield.
Their Pokémon, a Rhyperior, Drapion, and Dusknoir, were already on the field, forming a wall between me and the wreckage of the building. Rhyperior's horn still glowed orange from the beam discharge, smoke coiling from its nostrils.
My stomach twisted. "You're the ones from Pier Nineteen."
The lead grunt tilted his head slightly, voice distorted through his mask.
"Smart girl."
I raised my voice, forcing strength I didn't feel. "I'm not letting you take him back."
A dry laugh came from under his helmet.
"Take him? Oh no, sweetheart. We're not here for the Scizor."
He stepped closer through the rain.
"We're here for you."
I blinked, water streaking down my face. "What?"
A sharp sound cracked through the air, bricks shifting. I turned just in time to see Scizor burst through the hole in the wall, battered but standing. His chest plate was scorched black where the Hyper Beam had hit, vents sparking faintly, but his eyes burned bright gold.
He stepped between me and the grunts, stance low and wide.
The two on the flanks moved instantly, their Drapion and Rhyperior spreading out to engage him. Drapion's tail snapped forward, dripping with venom. Rhyperior's footfalls shook the pavement as it charged.
"Scizor!" I shouted. "Keep them off me!"
He launched forward in a blur, venting bursts of steam as he dodged Drapion's stinger and countered with a claw strike. Sparks and sludge filled the air.
I reached for my belt, fingers brushing Trilla's Poké Ball.
The third grunt caught the movement.
"Dusknoir, disable her."
The ghost turned toward me. Its single red eye glowed purple.
Pain detonated through my head.
I screamed before I even realized I was on my knees. The world fractured, color, sound, thought, all shredded at once. My telepathic sense, that constant hum of life I'd always known, went dead in an instant.
I couldn't hear anything. Just the raw pressure of something ripping me apart from the inside.
"Stop!" I choked out, clutching my temples. "Get out of my head!"
The Dusknoir floated closer, silent except for the low, droning hum of psychic interference. Every heartbeat made my vision pulse white.
Through the agony, I picked out the clash of metal.
I forced my eyes open just long enough to see Scizor pinned beneath Drapion's tail, the barbed stinger buried deep between his shoulder plates. He struggled, thrusters sputtering, claws scraping uselessly against the ground.
Rhyperior loomed above him, horn beginning to spin, glowing with another charge.
One of the grunts barked over the storm,
"Kill it! We only need the girl alive!"
"No!"
I tried to move, but my limbs didn't listen. I was barely conscious, the world dimming at the edges. The hum from Rhyperior's horn grew louder, building toward another Hyper Beam.
And then...
Everything went dark.
The rain froze in the air, every droplet suspended midfall. The light from Rhyperior's horn cut out like a blown fuse as the darkness enveloped us.
Then came the screaming. Human at first. Then Pokémon.
I forced my head up.
All I saw were silhouettes and the flash of movement as a blur of darkness bent the light around it. Rhyperior fell first, armor split open like tin. Drapion tried to retreat but was yanked into the shadows and silenced. A wet crack sounded off like a gunshot, and its silhouette crumpled, head facing the wrong direction.
The Dusknoir floated backward, trembling as its glow flickered. Then suddenly, a black tendril erupted from below it and dragged it down into the asphalt as if the ground had become liquid. My blood went cold when I saw the figure of one of the armored grunts get split down the middle just as another had her head plucked from her torso.
The light returned as the streetlights lit up once again. I expected there to be bodies, but the sidewalk was empty. The only sign that the ambush had even happened was the hole in the shop that Scizor had been launched through.
Then I heard him.
He was still breathing, ragged and shallow, but alive.
I crawled to him, my body shaking. His armor was scorching hot to the touch, vents flickering weakly. The rain hissed against him, steam rising in ribbons.
"You're okay," I whispered, more to convince myself. "You're okay. Please be okay."
He didn't move, but a faint whir came from his chest, a dying engine refusing to quit.
I looked up and saw the faint glow of a neon cross cutting through the downpour, a Pokémon Center sign, no more than five hundred feet away. Thank God we were in New York, which had dozens of them scattered around.
Five hundred feet.
I swallowed hard, adrenaline mixing with nausea. My body still burned from Dusknoir's psychic backlash, my head spinning every time I blinked.
"Hang on, big guy," I muttered, gripping his claw. "I've got you."
It took everything I had to get him onto his feet, but his weight dragged me down almost instantly. He was over two hundred pounds of steel.
"Okay," I breathed, teeth gritted. "We're doing this the hard way."
I hooked my arms under his and started pulling, screaming in pain as the heat from his armor scorched my arms.
The asphalt tore at my knees. Every step forward was agony. My muscles screamed, my vision blurred, but I kept dragging him.
A hundred feet. Fifty feet.
My lungs felt like fire, and my arms were shaking violently, but I refused to stop.
"Come on," I whispered. "Come on..."
By the time I reached the crosswalk, my legs gave out completely. I dropped, gasping, forehead pressed to the wet asphalt. The Center was so close, the doors glowing faint red through the curtain of rain.
I forced myself up again, grabbed Scizor's arm, and pulled. My shoulders screamed as my hands slipped on wet steel, but I didn't let go.
When I finally stumbled through the automatic doors, I collapsed to my knees.
"Help!" I screamed, voice raw. "Somebody help him!"
Two nurses and an Audino rushed forward immediately. Scizor was hauled onto a gurney, sparks still flickering across his armor.
As they wheeled him toward the back, another nurse hurried to my side. She stopped dead when she saw my arms.
"Oh my God! Those burns!"
I blinked down. The adrenaline that had carried me here was fading fast, replaced by waves of pain that spread like fire beneath my skin. Blisters had already risen across both forearms, angry red and seeping where his superheated armor had torched me.
"I didn't even," I started, voice breaking. "I didn't feel it."
"Come with me," the nurse said firmly, hooking an arm under mine. "Now."
I nodded weakly, but as she helped me to my feet, a cold spike of realization hit me.
"Wait, my Pokémon ."
She frowned. "What?"
"Simon and Trilla. Their Poké Balls, I left them. At the park."
My stomach twisted. In my mind, I could still see them sitting there, glinting under the streetlight before everything went black.
But the nurse turned and pointed toward the waiting area.
"Are those them?"
Two Poké Balls sat on one of the lobby chairs, mine. But they weren't the way I'd left them. A thick, black-and-purple residue oozed from the seams, spreading like ink down the glossy red surface and dripping onto the upholstery. The air above them shimmered faintly, distorting the light like heat off asphalt.
I stumbled forward and scooped them up. The spheres were ice-cold to the touch. "What the hell..." I muttered, wiping the viscous fluid onto my shirt until the metal shone again. The stain smeared across the fabric, leaving faint violet streaks that seemed to pulse for a second before fading.
"Easy," the nurse said, sliding an arm around my shoulders. "You're in shock. Let's get you on a gurney."
She guided me toward the far wall, and I let her, every step heavier than the last. My burns throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
As she helped me onto the gurney, something outside caught my eye. Through the glass doors, across the rain-slick street, a figure hovered in the downpour.
It wasn't standing, it was floating, its shape barely visible through the haze. Wisps of smoke streamed upward from its body like a living flame turned inside out. Around its neck glowed the faint outline of a pulsing red collar.
The world tilted.
The nurse said something I couldn't hear as the edges of my vision closed in. My last conscious thought was the sound of rain against the glass and the echo of my mother's voice, faint and distorted, calling my name.
Then everything went dark.
I woke to the sound of rain tapping against glass.
My arms ached like they'd been set on fire. The bandages were thick and tight, and every pulse of my heartbeat sent a dull throb of pain beneath them. For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was, just the antiseptic bite of a Pokémon Center recovery room and the steady beeping of a monitor behind me.
Then I heard a chair creak.
"Hey," Dad's voice said softly. "Welcome back, kiddo."
He looked worse than I felt. His hair was a mess, his jacket was still half-buttoned, and there were bags under his eyes deep enough to tell me he hadn't slept.
"Pops?" My voice came out hoarse.
He stood, setting a paper cup of coffee aside. "Got a call from the Center a little after midnight. I'm still your emergency contact, remember? They said you'd been found in bad shape and that your Scizor was in critical condition." His voice dropped. "What happened?"
I swallowed hard, the memories crashing back one by one. "We were leaving the park after training. It started raining. Scizor was behind me, then out of nowhere, a Hyper Beam hit him square in the chest. Knocked him clean through a building."
Dad's jaw tightened. "There's a crime scene set up at a building across the street. It looks like it got hit by a cannonball."
"That cannonball was Scizor's body."
"Any idea who attacked you?"
"There were three of them. Black-and-blue armor, visors, the same kind I saw on the people at the warehouse. They had a Drapion, Rhyperior, and Dusknoir. I thought they wanted Scizor, but they said they were there for me."
He leaned in, listening carefully. "Did you get a good look at them?"
"Not really. They had masks with voice filters. Their Dusknoir hit me with Hex, everything just... collapsed. My link to the others vanished. I couldn't move."
I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "Scizor was pinned. I heard them order Rhyperior to finish him off, and then..."
I stared past him, into nothing. "Everything went dark. The rain stopped midair. They started screaming. When I came to, they were gone. No bodies, no Pokémon. Just shadows."
Dad frowned. "Someone intervened?"
"Not someone," I whispered. "Something. Just before I blacked out, there was a figure floating across the street. Smoke was pouring off its head, and there was this... red collar, glowing faintly around its neck."
He froze. "Smoke... and a red collar?"
I nodded slowly. "You know it?"
He rubbed his chin, the color draining from his face.
"That explains the lack of evidence." He muttered.
"Dad! What was it?"
"Your mother used to talk about a Darkrai. Said it protected you when you slept, kept your nightmares away. Its name was Dakashi."
I stared at him. "A Darkrai?"
He nodded once. "She met it before you were born when the Elite Four were called to intervene in a conflict between Ho-Oh and Lugia. Dakashi had been hit while trying to save a pack of Houndor from a forest fire. Chloe's Absol extinguished the blaze and guided the pack to safety while Chloe tended to Dakashi's wounds."
"You're kidding," I said, matter-of-factly.
"No. She claimed that he wasn't like the others. I'd never seen him for myself, and when she got sick, he disappeared." He exhaled. "If what you saw matches her description... I think Dakashi saved you."
The word saved didn't sit right. My mind flashed back to the rain, the screaming, the sudden silence.
"For a savior, it sure seemed to enjoy ripping my attackers apart."
He hesitated."It protected you. That's what matters."
Before I could respond, the door slid open.
"Knock-knock," Skyla said softly.
She stepped in, still wearing her flight jacket, hair damp from the rain outside. Behind her, Zoey leaned against the doorframe while Trilla floated quietly beside her, eyes full of concern.
Skyla stopped short when she saw the bandages around my arms.
"I'm okay," I lied.
Dad nodded. "A Beheeyem handled it. Used Heal Pulse before they wrapped you up. You'll be sore for a while, but it worked better than anything humans could've done."
The skin beneath the gauze prickled faintly, warm in a way that didn't feel painful, just strange. "Guess I should send that Beheeyem a thank-you card."
Skyla smiled weakly and moved closer, perching on the edge of the bed. "You're lucky. If that attack had hit you instead of Scizor..."
"I know," I said quietly.
Dad glanced between us. "She mentioned her attackers had some kind of emblem."
I nodded. "Blue shield, black stripe down the middle. Looked official. Military, maybe?"
He froze mid-step. "You're sure about that pattern?"
"Positive."
He swore under his breath. "Team Plasma."
Skyla stiffened instantly. "You're kidding."
I looked between them. "Why do I recognize that name?"
Skyla took a slow breath and stood. "Team Plasma were a cult, terrorists, really. Led by a man named Ghetsis. He thought humanity was corrupt, that we didn't deserve Pokémon ."
Her tone hardened as she spoke, the memory clearly not an old one. "He declared war on the world. Took control of Zekrom and Reshiram and turned them on society, nearly wiping Europe off the map. The PAP and the global military tried to stop them."
My dad took over.
"One of Zekrom's Fusion Bolts hit too far north and roused Kyreum from its arctic hibernation. He broke Ghetsis' control over Zekrom and Reshiram and killed the tyrant bastard himself."
Skyla looked down at me, eyes dark with something between fear and anger. "The PAP said Plasma was gone, scoured clean. But cops, rangers, League officials... we all knew better. Rumors of sleeper cells, black-ops branches, and rogue scientists peppered the internet for years."
Dad nodded grimly. "If those rumors were true, they just confirmed it."
Skyla crossed her arms, looking at him. "And if they're hunting Atrea specifically, someone with a psychic bond strong enough to talk to Pokémon, then they're rebuilding whatever Ghetsis started. You don't think the big man surv-"
"No. He's dead. Kyreum hit him point-blank with Glaciate and dropped a mountain on him for good measure."
The room fell silent. The only sound was the rain outside, steady and soft.
I swallowed hard. "So what now?"
Dad sighed. "Now we keep you safe. We find out how deep this goes. And we make sure they never get another chance."
Skyla brushed her hand gently against mine, her touch light against the bandages. "You're not alone in this, okay? Not anymore."
I wanted to believe her. I really did.
But as the thunder rolled far beyond the glass, I couldn't stop thinking about that silhouette in the rain, the smoke, the red collar, and the way the world had fallen silent before the screams began.
If that thing really was the Darkrai from my mother's past... then we had unfinished business.
Skyla hadn't let go of my hand since the hospital. By the time we stepped back into the hotel room, the rain outside had faded into a low, misty drizzle, the kind that left the streetlights glowing like halos over the pavement.
She looked at me as she sat on the edge of the bed. "You sure you're okay to travel tomorrow?"
"Yeah," I said, kicking off my boots. "Scizor's stable, the rest of the team's fine, and if I stay in this city one more day, I might actually start to rust."
That earned a quiet laugh from her. "Then maybe we should do something normal tonight. You know, before we start chasing badges again."
I looked up at her, half-smiling. "Dinner?"
She nodded. "Dinner."
We ended up standing outside one of those places with white tablecloths and prices that made my debit card sweat. Skyla raised an eyebrow at the glowing menu posted beside the door. "This looks... fancy. You sure about this?"
"Oh, I'm sure," I said, pulling the door open for her. "I figured if my entire Gym Challenge was funded by terrorists, I might as well enjoy some of the blood money."
She blinked, then burst out laughing, really laughing, head tilted back, drawing a few looks from the diners inside. I couldn't help it; I cracked too.
"Too soon?" I asked, still grinning.
"Possibly," she said between breaths, "but it's so you."
Dinner was the first time in weeks that we didn't talk about battles, injuries, or conspiracy theories. Just us. She ordered salmon; I got steak. We shared a bottle of red wine that I couldn't pronounce but definitely felt by the second glass.
At one point, Skyla reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "You know," she said, voice soft under the restaurant's murmur, "I'm glad I met you. Even if you come with explosions and government warnings."
I laughed quietly. "You sure you're not just in it for the view?"
"Maybe a little," she teased, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "But I think it's the way you keep standing up after everything that draws me in."
I didn't have a good comeback for that, so I just smiled and looked down at our joined hands.
"Oh! Before I forget, while you were battling Burgh, nice win by the way, I trained Zoey's agility, and she was able to catch and grapple onto Swellow's back during a fly-by. I doubt she'll ever be able to match Scizor, but she won't be left in the dust in bouts of speed going forward."
Skyla's smirk faded into something gentler. "You've got a good team, Atrea. They trust you. Even when things get ugly."
"Yeah," I said quietly, glancing out the window toward the city lights. "I just hope I can keep earning that."
Skyla reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "You already have."
The restaurant's awning was still dripping from the last of the rain when we stepped outside. The city had gone quiet, late enough that even the taxis were scarce. The air was cool and smelled faintly of wet pavement and sea salt.
Skyla stretched her arms over her head, smiling at the night sky. "You know, for once, I think I'm actually full."
"First time for everything," I teased, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets.
She shot me a sideways grin.
"You've met Swellow, Taylor, and Swoobat, but it just hit me that you've never really met the rest of my team."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I meet Skarmory when we pulled Simon out of the desert?"
"Yeah," she said, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear, "but that was work, and you've only met four of them. I have six,
Before I could reply, she unclipped two Poké Balls from her belt and released them into the mist.
With a flash of red light, two more shapes materialized. A Talonflame was first, it's sleek, fiery, wings shimmering like molten metal under the streetlights. He gave a sharp cry that echoed off the nearby buildings before perching proudly on a lamppost. A moment later, an Altaria drifted down beside him, a luminous cloud of feathers and soft coos, her wings glowing faintly with the reflection of the city below.
I smiled. "You really don't do anything halfway, do you?"
Skyla gave a little shrug. "What can I say? I have a thing for showmanship."
Altaria drifted closer, her cottony wings brushing my sleeve. "She likes you," Skyla said, patting her on the head. "You should ride with her."
"Ride? As in fly? With that?"
Skyla laughed, already climbing onto Talonflame's back. "Trust me. You'll love it."
Altaria cooed softly I don't bite
I responded gently That's not what I'm worried about, sweetheart
Altaria dipped her wing low to let me climb on. I hesitated only long enough for Skyla to give me a mock salute before Talonflame kicked off the ground in a burst of fire. I barely managed to grab hold of Altaria's neck feathers before we followed.
The world dropped away beneath us. The city turned into rivers of light, buildings flickering like constellations below a sea of mist. The cold wind rushed across my face, but Altaria's warmth radiated up through her feathers, steady and alive.
Skyla and Talonflame soared ahead, a streak of crimson and gold against the silver clouds. She twisted the reins, and Talonflame obeyed instantly, rolling sideways into a barrel spin that left a spiral of glowing embers in their wake.
"Showoff," I muttered under my breath, but I couldn't look away.
She looped upward through the fog, then dove back toward the skyline, skimming just above the rooftops before pulling into a perfect corkscrew. Sparks trailed from Talonflame's wingtips as they cut through the mist.
Then she did something that made my stomach knot.
She let go.
One moment, she was laughing atop Talonflame's back, and the next, she spread her arms wide and fell backward into open air. No hesitation. No fear.
"Skyla!" I shouted, heart slamming into my throat.
Wait for it. Altaria said in the back of my mind.
In a heartbeat, Talonflame's wings folded tight, and he tucked into a dive so sharp it left a sonic snap in the air.
He caught her just above the rooftops. Smooth and effortless like a well-rehearsed dance. Skyla rolled onto his back mid-flight and shot upward again, hair whipping in the wind, laughing like she'd just pulled off a magic trick.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
Altaria rumbled beneath me, amused. She does that a lot, her voice whispered softly in my thoughts.
You're not gonna do that with me, are you? I asked warily
These wings aren't aerodynamic enough to pull off a move like that, dear. Don't worry.
By the time they rejoined us at altitude, I was still trying to get my pulse under control. Skyla was grinning from ear to ear, windblown and radiant.
"What'd you think?"
"I think you're insane," I called back.
She laughed. "And yet you're still here!"
"Mostly because jumping off a dragon seems worse than dealing with you!"
She smirked. "Give it time."
We flew side by side the rest of the way, Altaria's steady rhythm balancing the fiery energy of Talonflame's wings. The city lights glimmered beneath us like a mirror to the stars.
When we touched down near the hotel, Skyla slid off Talonflame with practiced grace, landing like she'd done it a thousand times. I followed less gracefully, nearly stumbling as my boots hit the pavement.
She crossed her arms, still laughing. "See? Flying's not so scary once you trust the fall."
"Surprising to hear from someone who literally fell out of the sky five minutes ago."
She stepped closer, eyes softening just enough for her voice to drop.
"That's kind of the point."
Altaria hummed behind me, a quiet, melodic sound, before dissolving into red light. Talonflame followed, leaving only the smell of ozone and warm air in their wake.
Skyla caught my gaze as we headed for the elevator, her voice low and playful. "You handled yourself pretty well for a ground girl."
I smiled. "You're out of your mind, you know that?"
"Maybe," she said, brushing past me as the doors slid open. "But admit it, you had fun."
I didn't answer right away. I just smiled, watching the way her reflection shimmered against the elevator's glass wall.
She wasn't wrong. We'd survived New York and would leave for LA in the morning.
The next morning came in a blur of sunrise and coffee.
Skyla's private hangar sat just outside the city, a sleek stretch of tarmac kissed by fog. However, instead of the plane we'd arrived in, a new, cobalt-blue stunt plane gleamed under the early light. The tail bore her personal emblem: a stylized wing wrapped around a lightning bolt.
I stopped a few paces short, taking it in. "So this is the infamous Skyhawk."
She grinned, spinning a keychain around her finger. "You've heard of her?"
"Only that she's survived more airshows than any plane in history"
"'Survived' is such a boring word," she teased, brushing her palm along the nose of the plane. "I thrived."
Zoey's muffled voice slipped through the back of my mind. Translation: she's crashed fewer times than average.
I giggled
"What?"
"Evidently, Zoey doesn't agree with your definition of the word thrived."
"Don't listen to her," Skyla teased. "She's just jealous she doesn't have a seat."
I followed her up the ladder into the cockpit. Two seats with dual control sticks and a glass canopy polished enough to reflect the sky.
She glanced back at me, fastening her harness. "You ever flown in a stunt plane before?"
I buckled in. "Define 'flown.'"
She smirked. "Perfect. You'll love this."
The engines roared to life after I withdrew Zoey to her ball. Skyla eased the throttle forward, and the Skyhawk rolled down the runway, gaining speed until the wheels barely seemed to touch the ground.
The engines roared to life, the sound sharp and alive. Skyla eased the throttle forward, and the Skyhawk rolled down the runway, gaining speed until the wheels barely seemed to touch the ground.
Then she pulled back on the stick, and we lifted.
The city fell away beneath us, skyscrapers shrinking into toothpicks as the river caught the sunlight like a blade. The clouds opened like a door, and suddenly we were cutting through open blue.
Skyla's laughter filled the cockpit. "Tell me you're not smiling right now."
I tried to play it cool, but she wasn't wrong. The view was impossible not to smile at.
She flipped a few switches on the console, then said, "Hold onto something."
Before I could ask why, she rolled the plane into a full barrel spin, looping us through a cloud bank in a spiraling trail of vapor. I let out a half-laugh, half-yelp that only made her grin wider.
"That was payback," she said. "For calling me insane last night."
"You are insane!"
"Yeah," she said, voice softening, "and you still got in the plane."
We reached the coast just before sunset. The ocean below was a sheet of liquid gold, and ahead, Los Angeles sprawled across the horizon, a living mosaic of glass, steel, and light.
Skyla leaned forward, eyes shining behind her aviators. "There she is. City of Angels."
"More like city of sensory overload," I muttered as we descended through the haze.
She laughed. "You'll fit right in."
The landing was smooth, too smooth for a plane that size. Skyla cut the engine and popped the canopy open, letting the smell of salt air and hot asphalt wash in.
The sound of the ocean wasn't far, and somewhere beyond the hangar doors, a bass line thudded faintly in the distance, low, rhythmic, and alive.
Skyla climbed out first, stretching her arms as the California sun bled across the runway. "Feels good to be home," she said with a sigh.
"Home smells like burnt fuel," I said, hopping down beside her.
She grinned. "You get used to it."
As we started toward the terminal, Zoey's voice murmured in my head, So this is where we're meeting the loud one.
I smirked. Are you referring to you or Roxie?
Fair point.