I’m finally back! That’s right, I’ve finally continued this story. Hopefully you’re all still interested in reading it… And I’m sorry, for the long delay, but a lot of things have happened, including a computer crash. And hey, lack of new Storm Hawks episodes didn’t exactly help either.

And pardon any and all changes in writing style--hopefully there will be no more confusing transitions and such.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story thus far! Please remember to leave a comment! Also, please check my profile for updates on when I think I’ll be able to post new chapters.

Chapter Eight: Lost and Found

It had been nearly a month since Piper’s and Junko’s capture.

It had been nearly a month since Aerrow had heard Piper’s shrill squeak of glee at the discovery of a new use of some crystal, or Junko’s echoing laugher as he and Finn grappled over the last pancake.

It had been nearly a month since the Storm Hawks had been, well, the Storm Hawks.

At least, Aerrow kept telling himself it had only been less than a month—frankly, it had felt more like years.

Clearly, something needed to be done, and not just about rescuing their missing companions. Not that everything that could be done wasn’t getting done… but nothing Aerrow and the others did to help seemed enough.

But just yesterday, Aerrow needed to remind himself as he wandered aimlessly through the halls of the Condor, the crew had managed to warn Wren, Dove, the people of Terra Gale and her protectors, the Rebel Ducks, of the danger lurking within Cyclonia. Well, the new danger lurking within Cyclonia…

And they had finally found a name to match Zaric’s army: the Gyrfalcons, the newest scourge of the Atmos.

Unfortunately, that was the largest piece of information they had yet to find. Anything else—not that there was much—seemed trivial. Though, without Piper to search through the subtleness of the information, Aerrow couldn’t be sure.

So, he had decided that the Storm Hawks’ primary mission was to spread the news about the Gyrfalcons and their infamous commander. And, of course, to find out where Piper and Junko were being held.

Which meant that things he had planned to do immediately would have to be put on hold.

Aerrow tried running the list through his head again. One, the Storm Hawks couldn’t spend all their time searching for the Dark Ace. First off, he was a Cyclonian, most trusted of all of Cyclonis’ henchmen, even if he had saved Finn. Sure, he would have invaluable information on Zaric, maybe even where they would have taken their friends, but if trying to locate the man meant putting innocents in danger, then it wasn’t worth their time. Besides, Aerrow had the feeling that, unless your name was Cyclonis, you didn’t find the Dark Ace… the Dark Ace found you.

And, of course, the man could simply be dead. (Something Finn firmly did not believe, and Aerrow judged his friend to be right.)

Two, trying to muster the Sky Knights of the Atmos for an attack on the Gyrfalcons. As far as anyone could tell, the unruly militia was keeping itself hidden; Aerrow very much doubted if most of the other Sky Knights even knew that Cyclonia had been annexed, let alone that Zaric and his nameless master had set their sights on Atmosia next. Either way, contacting them all at once would be impossible; the Gyrfalcons had found a way to block all radio transmissions, including their own. The Storm Hawks had no idea as to why, of course—Piper had always been good at that (still is good at that, Aerrow corrected himself)—but they were sure it wasn’t for the good of both nations.

Third on the list dealt with previous reasoning—contacting Starling. The lone Sky Knight had always contacted the Storm Hawks, not the other way around. Trying to locate her without radios, without having the slightest idea as to where she was… Aerrow didn’t want to think about how complex that might become, and how time consuming. Like with the Dark Ace, it was best that Starling somehow came to them.

And Aerrow suddenly shuddered, to compare the Dark Ace, the villainous creep of a Cyclonian, to Starling, the brave Atmosian woman. And to compare them as if they might be equally helpful…

Wait. Waitwaitwait. I’m not starting to think of Dark Ace as something less criminal than Zaric and his army of traitors, am I? Not as an ally? Aerrow shuddered again, realizing that in this case, even the Dark Ace was more friend then foe. Probably. Maybe…

O o O

Aerrow eventually found himself standing next to Stork. The Merb was busy fiddling with dials and pulling levers, and checking the status of his precious Condor at the same time. The Sky Knight had never realized how much work it truly was, especially with two less helping hands aboard the ship.

“Stork, what’s our status?”

“Well,” the pilot began, “aside from being entirely out of food, nearly out of fuel crystals and THIS,”--the Merb held two shaking fingers impossibly close together—“close to falling out of the sky no thanks to the complete lack of engine crystals…” Stork finally paused to take a breath, “we’re fine.” Aerrow opened his mouth, but Stork interrupted him. “Until, that is, we crash into the Wastelands from waiting too long to get said engine crystals!”

The red head raised his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it! We need supplies. What’s the nearest outpost?”

Stork raised his eyebrows. “Nearest outpost? Oh, there probably aren’t any. By now, the entire Atmos has probably been converted to Gyrfalcons… We could be the only friendly ship left in the skies!” He immediately took to biting his black nails, looking fearfully around for protection.

Until a cruiser twice the Condor’s size passed them in the other direction, honking twice in pleasant greeting.

“’Only ship left in the skies,’ huh?” Aerrow relied playfully, crossing his arms. Stork coughed and went back to doing what he did best: keeping his beloved in the air.

Aerrow couldn’t help grinning. “In any case, we still need to pick up supplies somewhere. I’ll plot a course for the nearest supply outpost. Unless… Stork, do we have enough crystals to make it to Atmosia?”

Stork sighed; he knew where Aerrow was going with this one. “Probably. But if you get captured for being stupid enough to be seen on Terra Atmosia, don’t expect me to come to your rescue!” His eye twitched to give to statement emphasis. “Because I won’t.”

Among lesser information, the Storm Hawks found that Zaric had it in for the remaining members of the squadron, Aerrow and Finn in particular (though which Aerrow he wanted wasn’t clear). It wasn’t surprising, really, after their first encounter with the Gyrfalcon’s commander, but it certainly made it more difficult to move about the skies.

“Either way, we need to starting finding more information of the Gyrfalcons. The center of the free world is as good a place as any to start. And don’t worry, we’ll just steer clear of anyone passing out wanted posters,” Aerrow finished jokingly.

“Whoa,” an impressed voice said from the entrance to the bridge. “We have wanted posters?!” Aerrow turned to view the newcomer. Though it was already late in the morning, Finn had yet to find a time to change out of his pajamas. The two other Storm Hawks present couldn’t help but notice they were covered in little smiling heads of the Rex Guardians.

Aerrow held in a burst of laughter as Stork muttered something about lack of taste. “You’d better get ready, Finn. We’re heading to Atmosia!”

O o O

After abandoning a couple of Chroma Crystals—the only person ever capable of making them work properly now missing—Aerrow and Finn hastily donned disguises and were soon walking down the crowded streets of Terra Atmosia.

They weren’t the best possible disguises, Aerrow had noticed only a few seconds in. He was, after all, the only red headed teenager walking around with a moustache. Finn looked only a little better; his fake five o’clock shadow and carefully tousled hair barely covered his obvious youth. It’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough. And it’s not like every Gyrfalcon in the nation is on this terra..

But then, he couldn’t really be certain; surely a mastermind like Zaric would be able to work a few hundred Chroma Crystals, or even invent the perfect disguises to ensure that his Gyrfalcon spies blended in with the population.

And looking around a diverse place like Terra Atmosia, Aerrow could tell that, if he and Finn had already been targeted, the two probably wouldn’t even know it until the very last second.

So, Aerrow signaled Finn to keep a close watch on anyone with a good view of the pair, and they tried to continue on normally.

“Okay, first we’ll hit a crystal depot,” the disguised Sky Knight said. “Then we’ll see what we can do for food, and then we’ll see if we can’t find—“

“The Dark Ace?” Finn suggested darkly from behind him.

“Naw, we can’t look for him here, we’d—“

“N-no, really. It’s the Dark Ace!”

Aerrow turned to his right, to where a whiskered Finn was pointing, finger shaking from what he had to guess was surprise and more than a little fear.

And there, leaning on a lamp post like he owned the place, was one of Aerrow’s greatest annoyances (the red head was sure the feeling was mutual). And he was looking directly at Aerrow.