Anna's Daring Rescue

Anna watched, her heart a leaden weight in her chest, as Mark rocketed skyward, a flailing, screaming projectile. The jetpack, strapped on backwards, was clearly malfunctioning, its thrust erratic and uncontrolled. And the sound… oh, the sound was something else. A high-pitched wail of pure terror, punctuated by… was that a distressed squeak? Mark, the perpetually stoic, the man of a thousand secrets, was quite literally losing it, and apparently, his dignity, in front of the entire world.

“Oh, for goodness sake, Mark!” Anna exclaimed, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. Serina, who had miraculously detached herself from the now-smoking wreckage of General Stokes’ Van of Pain, stood beside her, wide-eyed and a little shaky.

“He… he’s pooping his pants, isn’t he?” Serina whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of shock and concern.