Note: I had snippets of this story sitting around for a long while, and it took me even longer to figure out how to piece it all together. Hard to believe I've been writing stories for this fandom for over 20 years, and somehow still enjoy the heck out of it. :D

I sort of pulled from my other stories, so to help set the foundation:

Puckworld year/revolution = 1.5 years on Earth, approximately

Old Ways Worshippers = Ducks trained in Wraith's magical abilities; like a cult

PIA = Puckworld Intelligence Agency

No OCs, with M/W and eventual D/T thrown in. Maybe even a little L/F if you squint. And yes, I am very happy in my little corner of this crazy world.

(Previously, from "Wisdom")

Anaheim, California – present day

There was a loud BANG, followed by a huge gust of wind. Vivid colors swirled in front of the large form, sending his cape billowing towards it.

He kept himself grounded, however, watching the scene unfold carefully. Long minutes passed, the vortex in front of him continuing to swirl like a psychedelic hallucination. Eventually a lone figure emerged, seemingly walking on air within the colorful tunnel.

The vortex narrowed as soon as the figure managed to pass through, the accompanying heavy winds dying down and its beautiful colors disappearing into the dark gray atmosphere of the dilapidated warehouse they were left in.

"So lovely to see you, my dear," Falcone stated, his arms crossed in front of him. His cape, no longer flying freely from the dimensional gateway, only subtly moved from the stale air of the desert night.

Despite the ocean breeze that occasionally wafted through, the dry heat remained and had turned the tourist city into an oven for the summer.

Lucretia DeCoy, looking slightly disheveled, glanced up at him and back to the remote device in her hand. She dropped it quickly, almost as if the controller had suddenly burst into flames. "Where … where am I?" she hoarsely asked.

Falcone smiled, walking up to her. She instinctively backed away from him, however, her eyes darting about. Realizing her anxiety, Falcone put his hands up innocently. "There there, my darling. You remember me, yes? Ernie Falcone of the Brotherhood of the Blade? We met briefly during the War, after you had taken down PIA."

Lucretia watched him apprehensively, but his words did seem to register as her expression slowly changed. "What happened?" she finally questioned, returning her observation to the partially demolished building.

"You were brought here by Dragaunus, as was I. From what I read in the logs, it seems Wildwing played you for a fool and made Dragaunus think you had betrayed him. He sent you to Dimensional Limbo. Ringing some bells in that cute little head of yours?"

Lucretia eyed the Raptrin as he spoke, her guard up despite being confused. When he finished she looked away, thinking.

"Yes," she ultimately answered. "The proteus chip." Falcone was next to her now and she peered up at him suspiciously. "How'd you get me out of there?"

Falcone's smile broadened, his arm gently reaching out to wrap around the female duck's thin shoulders. "We have a lot to catch up on, my dear. Please, let us get you somewhere nice to clean up and I'll tell you all about it."

The Raptrin guided them out of the barren warehouse, only briefly stopping to pick up the remote device Lucretia had dropped. The female let him guide her, her arms wrapping around herself as she readjusted to her new surroundings.

Puckworld – four months into the Saurian War

The mirror case snapped closed with a flip of her wrist, her other hand brushing fingers through her bouncy purple hair. A heavy black jacket cloaked her upper body, but her thick pink pants hugged her legs like glue. Tall purple boots completed the edgy look, and happened to give the tan-feathered duck a big boost in height.

Lucretia DeCoy had no intention of letting her appearance flounder just because of a silly war.

She let out a breathy harrumph, followed by a quick but studious observation of her surroundings, and after a couple seconds the petite female grinned coyly.

Despite the rather desolate appearance of the alley she stood in, Lucretia sweetly called out, "Mister, it's not nice to sneak up on a lady."

There was a pause in the air, before the intruder chuckled lightly and stepped out of the shadows that Lucretia was intently watching. "From what I've heard, dear, you are not just any lady."

Her smooth smile did not falter. "Is that so?" she evenly asked.

The silhouette approached her, and eventually the dismal light from the smoggy sky revealed a male Raptrin, his hooked beak partially masking his own wicked grin. He was tall, nearly two heads taller than Lucretia, with two-tone brown feathers and dark, calculating eyes. His feathers were preened to perfection despite the surrounding environment, and his black pants and long-sleeved shirt had a heavy red cape attached to it via a large brooch. One could arguably say it was for warmth—the weather was a brisk -20 Celsius on a good day in the remnants of DuCaine Metropolis—but Lucretia recognized the purple and gold insignia of the pendant in an instant.

This Raptrin was not just a Brotherhood of the Blade member, but a part of the royal ancestry tied to it: a blood relative of the first Brothers that formed the guild centuries ago.

Of course, in Lucretia's eyes, that just made him a spoiled brat.

He did not immediately respond to the female duck, instead sizing her up with a long, hard stare. He made a point to roam his eyes along the entire length of her body, his brows raising appreciatively as his gaze made its way to back to hers.

"I will say, the rumor mill did not do your beauty justice."

"Hmm," she responded, her arms lightly crossed over herself. Her head tilted as she looked up at him. "And what little rumor is that?"

"Oh, you know, just that you're a seductress, and a traitor to all duck-kind."

"So dramatic."

"Tell me, love, do you hate all ducks, or are Raptrins on your 'Nice' list?"

She let her eyes innocently glance around the dilapidated buildings they stood between. "Who says I hate anybody?"

"Well, the PIA might have a vote in that. And the Resistance, to boot—at least, what's left of them."

As he crossed his own arms, Lucretia kept her expression neutral, taking the opportunity to walk down the alley. The Raptrin watched her and waited a few seconds before following. The female reached an intersection perpendicular to the one they were in, and carefully checked the crossway before continuing on.

"I have no ties to the Resistance, one way or the other," she finally replied, her pace slow but deliberate. "And I certainly don't hate anyone … not anymore."

"It does seem that, like a big girl, you've taken care of that problem all on your own. Well, maybe with a little teensy help from some lizards, yes?"

Another intersection bifurcated their path, causing the female to pause in her travelling. She gave her company a brief but poignant look.

"Oh DuCaine," he exclaimed overdramatically, "please tell me you're not a magic druggie?"

Lucretia scoffed at the derogatory term used to describe Old Ways Worshippers. "Don't insult me, Raptrin. I have better use of my time and skills then to become hopelessly addicted to magic and wrinkled old Saurians."

"It's Falcone, love, and please do enlighten me then, as to why I should trust a traitor with no motivation one way or the other?"

She slowed to a stop, Falcone standing uncomfortably close to her, and clearly on purpose. She did not move, however, and instead blinked up at him alluringly, one of her hands slipping under his cape to grab his hip. "I'm no traitor to Puckworld, Mr. Falcone. But when it comes to my contract with Lord Dragaunus, I assure you that I took the lesser of two evils."

He did not outwardly respond to her touch, but his brows raised at her statement. "Hell hath no fury like a lady scorned?"

She took a deep breath, her eye contact with the Raptrin never wavering. "Something like that."

"And what's to say, then, that Lord Dragaunus doesn't scorn you in the same fashion?"

"I guess he better be on his best behavior then, hmm?"

Falcone smiled at her. "I like you."

Her hand released its hold and patted him. "Well then, now that we have the pleasantries aside, are you ready to make your own contract?" She pushed away from him then, continuing their trek through the empty, broken streets of downtown.

"And what, pray tell, does a contract with Lord Dragaunus entail?"

"It's simple really," Lucretia answered. "You do his bidding."

"In exchange for immunity."

"Yes."

"And do you think he'll hold up his end of the bargain? What happens when Puckworld is fully under his control?"

Lucretia let out a small, perturbed breath, before turning to face Falcone. "Why are you here, then?"

Falcone shrugged. "Survival of the fittest, love."

"What about the Brotherhood?"

"Ha! What Brotherhood, dear? Duke L'Orange has gone topside. His brute of a brother took a handful of the best and escaped. The rest of the guild are either dead, captured, or running."

"Not one of the Blade's best, then?" Lucretia bitingly asked.

Falcone snorted. "More of a mutual displeasure between myself and Colin L'Orange, actually."

"Boys will be boys with their silly swords and jewels, I guess." His look hardened at her comment, but she continued with, "At least I don't have to explain to you that this offer is for you and you alone."

"I'm aware," Falcone answered, his eyes still holding a hint of suspicion. Before she could turn away, the Raptrin grabbed Lucretia's forearm, pulling her close to him again. He bent low, so his beak was centimeters from hers.

"The question remains, however, why a former PIA agent became a spy and a traitor, and sided with the greatest threat Puckworld has ever faced, especially when they're not hopelessly addicted to the Old Ways magic.

"I know a losing fight when I see one, dear, and will do everything in my power to get off this planet. I have a feeling that's how you started this little game of charades, too."

He had whispered forcefully to her, his grip on her arm tight and immovable. "So, unless you're a lizard lover, I have a strong impression that this contract is more of a vassalage."

Despite his aggression, she did not fight back. Turning her head so her beak briefly brushed his, she derisively replied, "It sounds like you're picking the lesser of two evils too, honey."

For the first time since their meeting, he looked slightly taken aback by both her actions and statement. He released his hold, enough for her to step back and motion to the nondescript building a block away. "We're here."

Falcone remained silent, his eyes gazing over the building thoroughly. Lucretia smirked at him and started walking towards it.

As she got ahead a few feet, she heard a grumble from the Raptrin, before footsteps finally indicated that he was following. "What have I gotten myself into," he mumbled to himself.

Lucretia's smirk turned into a malicious grin. "Oh, Mr. Falcone—you have no idea."

And he really didn't.

Anaheim, California – present day

"Are you trying to tell me you birds have no idea where he is?"

Wildwing sighed. "Klegghorn, if we knew, we'd detain him."

The short police captain was obviously not convinced. His hands were resting on his hips, his long coat nearly brushing against the floor. "They said he's most likely been gone for days."

"We know," Tanya annoyingly responded, typing furiously at the controls to Drake One.

Klegghorn picked up on the attitude instantly. "Look, you beaks, I thought you guys were workin' on gettin' the hell off this planet!"

"Well, between destroying a warship, a warlord and his army, saving Earth, and—oh yeah, rebuilding the machine to actually get us home—we've been a little preoccupied, Kleggy," Nosedive chimed in, leaning against the console next to Tanya.

"Good for you. Meanwhile, I've got the FBI breathing down my neck because they think he'll be heading after you guys, and the Brits breathing down THEIR necks because they think you're trying to make a clean exit without holding up your end of the bargain!" The middle-aged man rubbed his nose frustratingly, already walking towards the elevator that led up to the ice rink. "I don't know what sort of agreement you made between these guys, but I suggest you straighten it out soon. They're a stone's throw away from bringing their own army into Anaheim, and I guarantee you I will open the door to the Pond myself if it means gettin' them outta my hair."

"Great workin' with ya as usual, cap," Nosedive sarcastically replied.

The captain simply glared in response before the elevator doors shut.

"All right Tanya, what do you have?" Wildwing asked, walking up to the computer.

"Honestly, uh, not much," Tanya sighed out. "Falcone definitely made some, uh, friends while he was imprisoned, to pull t-this off."

"Who?"

"Don't know, yet," she admitted, still pulling up files and skimming them. "Footage isn't helpful in this case."

Wildwing nodded in agreement. "Someone familiar with our tech was able to alter the security feed."

"Not only that, but they somehow hacked into the system to show that someone had already brought Falcone's scheduled meals—for three, maybe four days," Mallory chimed in. "And logged his use in the gym, even though no one remembers chaperoning him there."

"They said it, was, uh, outside work," Tanya added. "The logs prove that th-they were hacked, but uh, the source was untraceable."

"Duke," Wildwing addressed the gray-feathered mallard, "do you think we should go to Britain?"

The ex-thief took the time to think about it, his arms crossed in front of himself as he stood behind Tanya. "No," he finally answered. "He's in Anaheim."

"It doesn't make sense, though," Mallory said. "He knew we were taking him home once we got the gateway device built. Why would he risk that now, when we're so close?"

Still thinking, Duke simply shook his head, his eyes distant as he stared at the information on Drake One's monitor.

"It is kind of weird, being one Puckworld year since we took out Draggy, right?" Nosedive piped up, looking over to Grin, who had remained silent since joining the team for the Drake One alarm. "Think that means anything?"

Grin's brows furrowed in thought, his eyes glancing over to Duke, who briefly made eye contact with the large duck before casually turning away. Grin took a deep breath and looked to Tanya. "These plans started one revolution ago. The pattern is in the past."

Tanya blinked at him blankly for a moment, but before anyone could respond she gasped and turned quickly back to the computer.

"Angel..?" Duke cautiously asked, watching her with curiosity.

"Grin's, uh, right!" Tanya hurriedly explained, pulling up old Drake One log files. "Eight or nine months ago t-there was a break-in at, uh, Unbridled Technologies, remember?"

"I t'ought dhat was some vandalism er something," Duke stated, reading the information on the screen.

"It was," Tanya agreed, opening up another file. "Arson in a nondescript warehouse. They said some lab-made beryllium got, um, damaged."

Mallory walked up to the computer, a frown etching her features. "I thought it was a small amount, though. Not enough to do anything with. Plus, they caught the perpetrators, didn't they?"

"Yeah," Wildwing added, "they were a couple dumb teenagers trying to get initiated into a gang or something."

Tanya nodded. "Right. But, before that, about a m-month after we defeated Dragaunus, the gov-government brought up all the, uh, remains of the R-Raptor."

"Nothing happened, though," Nosedive argued. "It was a bunch of useless junk. They took everything and put them in some ware—" the teenager cut himself off, a look of dawning appearing, "house," he finished hoarsely. "Please tell me—"

"Yup, s-same warehouse. Didn't' think a-about it at the time," Tanya said, shaking her head, "because t-this beryllium had been purposely sep-separated into small quantities throughout S-Southern California."

"Unbridled was using government-sanctioned warehouses as a safety precaution," Mallory stated. "They didn't want to keep all the lab-made beryllium together." The redhead paused, her frown from earlier turning into concern. "So the arson was a coverup?"

"Whoa whoa," Duke interjected, his arms slashing the air. "But even if dhey got ahold of some Raptor parts and a tiny bit o' beryllium, it was scrap metal. There wasn't enough beryllium lost ta make a gateway. What purpose would stealin' all dhat serve?"

"That … I'm still working on," Tanya acknowledged, her fingers absently drumming against the tabletop portion of Drake One's control panel. "But it can't be a c-coincidence."

"The timing isn't, either," Wildwing added, looking to Mallory. "Mal, you said we were close to having the gateway built."

Mallory, watching him, nodded with only a slight bit of confusion. "Well, yeah. Tanya's been working with Buzz on it for months now since the beryllium production went into full swing … I mean, you know this. Everyone does."

Wildwing shook his head. "We know, yes, and Buzz does. Unbridled knows about the beryllium production, but not even Buzz's close staff know about the gateway device."

Tanya, watching the two speak, interrupted with wide eyes. "We've been working on that under the radar, to keep that kind of, uh, intelligence off the market."

"Right. But now that we're a couple weeks away from testing it, Falcone's conveniently escaped and has seemingly gotten a hold of some Saurian tech and beryllium."

Duke's head jerked up from his train of thought, and he instantly looked over to Mallory. "Mal, get Buzz on the line."

Everyone glanced at the ex-thief's random demand and back over to the redhead. The urgency in his tone made her react immediately, however, and she popped open her wrist unit. "Buzz, it's Mal, you there?"

She waited, but only static returned her call.

"Buzz, it's important. Can you pick up?" Her voice was strained this time around, barely masking panic.

There was nothing in response.

Mallory looked back to Duke with obvious fear in her eyes.

The gray drake cursed to himself before solemnly saying, "Someone's been helpin' Falcone since we took down Dragaunus. An' they planned for d'ose Raptor parts to go in dhat exact warehouse. Dhey knew."

"Knew what?" Nosedive asked.

"They knew we'd be workin' on da gateway three blocks away."

Everyone was silent, the reality of those words sinking in. Mallory turned to Tanya. "Did he ever go there without you?"

Tanya hesitantly nodded. "All the time."

Mallory bolted to the nearby elevators that led to the garage.

"Wait, Mallory!" Wildwing called, but she did not stop. "Dammit," he cursed. "Tanya, stay here with Duke and see if we can't plan Falcone's next move. The rest of us, let's go."

Elsewhere in Anaheim, California – present day

Lucretia was silent as she sipped on hot tea, staring out the window of the motel she and Falcone were in. She was freshly showered and in a comfortable bathrobe, one that Falcone must've purchased outside of this shady place, seeing as though the quality of the room they were in would not be handing out bathrobes freely.

She took a deep breath as nearby car lights flashed along the freeway in the distance, her eyes naturally attracted to the glimmer reflecting through the motel window. The rest of the view was lacking, with only a small side street and dark buildings filling the scenery. She supposed it was necessary, given the recent information Falcone had disclosed to her.

The tiny dining table had two chairs, one of which she occupied, and the other had her clothes and Falcone's cloak draped over it. Along the tabletop were their weapons: Falcone's saber and a few knives, as well as Lucretia's own collection of knives. Neither of them had a puck-launcher, unfortunately, so stealth was of the utmost importance in their next plan of action.

A red T-shaped device caught her eye, making her breath hitch in her throat. The transporter that had sent her to Dimensional Limbo sat on the far edge of the table, its bloodred sheen sending a chill down her spine.

"What do you remember?"

Falcone's voice cut through the quiet like nails on a chalkboard, startling the tan mallard enough to make her jump. He smirked at her reaction, taking a seat in the other dining chair and being careful not to disturb the clothes resting on its backside.

"I'm not amnesic, Ernest."

The male Raptrin, wearing only a sleeveless black shirt and pants, winced. "Darling, I gave you my first name in a show of trust. Please do not actually use it."

Lucretia rolled her eyes.

"Now, if you are willing, I was referring to Dimensional Limbo."

If his voice had been nails on a chalkboard, then those last two words were hand grenades in a closet. Lucretia turned away from her companion, hiding the terror that was surely etched in her expression.

One of Falcone's hands came to rest on top of hers, where she still held the handle of her mug. It was only his touch there that made her realize her hand was trembling.

Eventually she swallowed heavily, her eyes still watching the freeway traffic in the distance. "It was a fate worse than death," she finally whispered.

Silence lingered at that comment, before he quietly asked, "Can you … describe it?"

Her purple hair was damp and did not have its usual bounce, so when she absently took her free hand to brush it, her fingers slowly rung out the excess water. She kept her gaze on the window, her eyes locked on the middle distance and her expression grim.

"Have you ever had a dream that felt so real that—when you woke up—you weren't sure if you were still dreaming?"

Falcone, knowing the question to be rhetorical, stayed silent.

Lucretia took in a shaky breath. "But they weren't dreams, or nightmares. They were memories. Some of them real, but some … some were of the future. Things that have not happened yet." Her hand continued brushing through a small section of her hair, almost neurotically now.

"Then they would change, and they weren't real memories anymore. They were of the past, but something else happened. I made a different decision, or someone else did. I was watching myself do things that I hadn't done."

She suddenly stopped brushing, her expression barely masking the trauma she felt as she looked back to Falcone. "I would occasionally wake up, or at least I thought I did. The dream would end abruptly and a new one would start. There was no order to it. I could never tell what was real and what was not … and before long, I realized none of it was.

"I wasn't real anymore. I was watching myself from the outside. Everything was out of order … what could be; what had happened; what could have happened." She closed her eyes briefly when they inadvertently glazed over. "I saw so many different paths that I … I've forgotten a lot of what's true, anymore."

She shakily brought the mug up to her beak with two hands, letting the heat of the ceramic warm her hands before taking a slow sip. Falcone had remained silent, still leaning forward and watching her intently out of the corner of her eye.

When she swallowed the hot liquid and took another deep breath, her eyes peered down at the transporter on the table. "Time was irrelevant. Some memories felt like they lasted seconds, and others felt like years. Occasionally, I would feel … that … in my hands, and it would force me to remember where I was and what had happened."

"It tethered you to reality," Falcone stated, looking at the transporter as well. "It was the only tangible item you could grasp in there."

Lucretia did not immediately respond, instead letting her gaze return to Falcone. He appeared lost in thought, staring at the transporter, but eventually looked back up to meet her eyes. His brow lifted slightly and he smirked.

"Admiring the view?"

Glancing away to return her mug to the table, she leaned forward and rested her forearms upon its surface. "I think it's your turn to answer some questions, now."

The Raptrin grinned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "By all means, love, ask away."