"...Oh dear."

Apparently, Blackwood was as good at flying as he was at making tea.

Speaking of which, Nate was still waiting on that cuppa.

With a snap of his fingers, the boy shimmered and disappeared into the night sky. A moment after, a velvet cushion seemed to swoop in, giving Alistair a proper seat before a comical parachute deployed amid the return of the God Save the King fanfare.

It was all an illusion of course, save for that Nate really was slowing the man's fall. The imp was just trying to play it off as no big deal, when in fact Alistair's arse was exceptionally heavy. Probably no surprise, that.

Luckily, it wasn't a long descent. The man floated down like a feather toward where the Golden Boy seemed to be finishing up the last of Hitler's men.

Meanwhile, the illusionary lad talking with Mad Jack continued as though nothing were happening. "You'll have to excuse the Lord Blackwood. He does have a flair for the dramatic," the illusion lamented.

Because, clearly, it was Alistair who was the dramatic one of the pair.

Sullivan County, Northeastern Tennessee
June, 1938

They had fought off that wave of enemies, but there was no promise that they wouldn't regroup and return. Besides, their orders were not to leave yet. Tommy was now at the material section and the four superheroes assigned to this base were now finally gathered in the same place. The conversation started off anything but cordial. Tommy watched, and listened, before giving his thoughts. After being mostly mute for the entire day so far, his own voice slightly startled even him.

"They'll likely be back after they finish regrouping. And if their reinforcements arrive fast enough, the next round will not be as easy as this one. Any one of us could probably have fought that group off alone with some effort, and they called all four of us here for a reason. Luckily we now have the opportunity to rest and prepare outselves."