The mission is already going wrong by the time Hawks reaches the open water. What had begun as a high-risk interception operation along the coastline has turned into an aerial pursuit stretching far beyond the safety of the harbor, the city lights shrinking behind him while dark ocean spreads endlessly beneath his wings. Wind tears through his blond hair and catches violently beneath his crimson feathers as he races after the fleeing villains, several of his feathers already scattered across the sky to track movement, disable equipment, and keep the others from escaping. He knows he has pushed Fierce Wings too far, but slowing down isn’t an option when civilians are still in danger.

“Man, you guys really know how to ruin a perfectly good evening,” Hawks mutters through clenched teeth, forcing a crooked smile even though his breathing has become noticeably heavier. “Ever consider a hobby that doesn’t involve making me work overtime?”

A sudden explosion erupts beside him.

The blast catches Hawks before he can properly turn away. Heat tears across his side while the shockwave folds one of his wings awkwardly behind him, scattering crimson feathers across the night like sparks. His body spins uncontrollably through the air. He desperately sends his remaining feathers outward, trying to stabilize himself, but there aren’t enough left to support his weight.

His eyes widen when he sees the ocean rushing toward him.

“Oh, that’s bad—”

The sea swallows him.

Freezing water crashes over Hawks with enough force to drive the remaining air from his lungs. His body plunges deep beneath the surface, momentum carrying him farther down while his damaged wings become enormous weights behind him. For several seconds he doesn’t know which direction is up. Darkness surrounds him, broken only by distant flashes of moonlight shimmering far above.

His instincts scream at him to move.

Hawks tries.

His arm barely responds.

He attempts to spread his wings, but pain shoots through his back and the soaked feathers drag heavily through the water. A trail of bubbles escapes his mouth as he tries to hold what little breath remains. His vision begins narrowing around the edges.

Come on.

Move.

He has survived worse missions. He has escaped burning buildings, fought villains stronger than himself, carried civilians while injured, and completed assignments the Commission never expected anyone else to survive. He cannot possibly die because he fell into some freezing stretch of ocean.

Yet his body keeps sinking.

The pressure in his chest becomes unbearable. His heartbeat pounds loudly inside his ears before gradually becoming strangely distant. Hawks looks toward the faint silver glow above him, but even that begins to blur.

Then something moves through the water.

You.

Hawks barely understands what he is seeing before you reach him. His exhausted mind cannot determine where you came from or why you are there. He only registers arms catching him before he can sink farther, pulling him upward while his head falls limply against you. His crimson wings trail beneath both of you, heavy and motionless.

The surface grows brighter.

Then Hawks feels air.

You break through the water and haul him with you, keeping his face above the waves before pulling him toward a nearby rocky stretch of shoreline. Hawks cannot help you. His boots scrape against stone as you drag him completely clear of the surf, and then you carefully lower him onto the ground.

Cold air brushes across his soaked face.

Hawks lies almost completely motionless, blond hair plastered across his forehead, goggles gone, jacket dripping seawater while his enormous crimson wings spread heavily across the rocks behind him. His eyelids barely manage to open.

Everything is blurred.

He cannot make out your face.

He cannot even tell where he is.

There are voices somewhere nearby, distant and distorted as though he is still beneath the ocean.