Chapter 5

Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Running through thin air. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Belts shimmering in sun. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Falling, falling, falling… Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Peregrine falcons tugged off of fists… Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Hairdye and blood. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Broken beer bottles… Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Running. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. More running. Wake up. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Running, running, running. Wake UP. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. Swords cutting through flesh, sending cries of agony and death into the air. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises. WAKE UP. Cuts. Scrapes. Bruises…

WAKE UP!

A low, roaring voice jolted Max awake. Wilson sat next to him, curled up in a semicircle, a look of concern etched onto his face. “You were having a nightmare.”

Max wiped sweat off his brow. He glanced around nervously. “Where are we?” he asked.

“You’re at S.W.O.R.D.,” an unfamiliar voice said. Wilson jumped out of his relaxed state, head feathers inflating and back spikes rising. Max almost fell off the cot he was sitting up on. When they both realized that the official sitting in a chair across from then meant no harm, Max’s face turned beet red and Wilson’s tail began to whip madly. The official regarded this with amusement.

“What is your name?” he asked, turning to Max. Max’s mind started to race. They wanted his name. If they knew his name, they would take him back to the log cabin and he would be torchured for the rest of his life. How could he get out of that? He combed over the things he liked. Well, he liked the Seahawks. He couldn’t use the name Wilson because that was the griffin’s name… Russell Wilson loved the 12th Man. An idea popped into Max’s head. Would it work?...

“What is your name?” the official asked again, this time an edge to his voice.

“Agent 12,” Max replied.

“Your real name?” the official raised an eyebrow.

“Agent 12,” Max persisted. The nickname was working, and it made sense to Max when he said it out loud. He felt like it clicked.

“Your real name?” the official pushed, his expression darkening. He clicked a pen open and started writing notes on a piece of paper.

“Agent 12,” Max said again, this time matching the withering, yet impatient stare of the official.

The rest of the interrogation went on like this, and at one point Wilson yawned so loudly the guards posted outside the room peeked in to see if something was wrong. After about two hours of tense questioning Agent 12 and Wilson were finally shown to their dorm, a bare space with a bathroom to the right and a bedroom to the left.

Agent 12 flopped down on the couch. “What now?” he asked Wilson.

“I think you start training tomorrow,” was the only reply uttered from the griffin’s mouth.

“This feels a lot like falconry,” Agent 12 moaned. “First I’m running away from the government, then I get abducted, and now I’m going into training!” He untied his long hair and twirled the hair tie around on a finger. “I guess I know what they feel like.”

Wilson wasn’t listening. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head in a painful direction (which only he could do) while scanning the room. “We could really amp up this place.”

Agent 12 brightened. “How?”

“We just need some paint and astroturf.”

They needed more than that, though. By the time Agent 12 and Wilson had finished, Agent 12 was on his next level of training. If you walked in, you would think you had walked into a forest. The walls were painted with trees and bushes with sunlight streaming through the cracks in foliage. Small birds darted to and fro in the branches, and a bobcat stalked an unwary rabbit behind a fallen tree. Squirrels scurried up and down the tree trunks with acorns in their paws. A lone hawk circled lazily above. The astroturf completed the forest scene, along with a bookshelf that seemed like it was crafted out of a colossal tree. Falconry and ornithology books crowded the shelves, and an old figurine of a man with a bird on a hand proudly stood decoratively in eyeshot of anyone who walked in. Wilson had even somehow found a dead and stuffed grouse and stuck it on top of the bookshelf for good measure. The window was always open, too, even in winter months, to simulate the climate of outside.

Wilson loved the living room, and when Agent 12 was away training he would curl up in a ball and rumble contentedly, until he lulled himself to sleep. Other days he would go out flying, reveling at the warm thermals always radiating from the city buildings under his wings. One day when Wilson had just curled up to sleep in the living room, Agent 12 burst in with a struggling peregrine falcon. “Calm down!” he was hissing at it. Wilson understood that new birds didn’t like the sight of him, so he vacated to the bedroom. The bedroom was prairie themed �" somehow Agent 12 had gotten hold of beige turf. Painted grass waved around in the wind, and falcons chased startled pheasant and grouse around. On a cliff in the distance, an eagle sat contentedly as if it had just gorged itself a meal. Wilson quickly fell asleep, only to be disturbed later by screeching coming from the living room.

Agent 12, meanwhile, had been reading a book on trapping techniques when the falcon S.W.O.R.D. had mysteriously assigned him started to screech rambunctiously. Agent 12 sighed. The bird didn’t know about his power.

A quick conversation educated Agent 12 that the bird was bored. He gave her a random book off the shelf and went back to reading. For the rest of the week, Agent 12 weathered the falcon on a block perch. The introduction to Wilson was a little interesting, but not compared to the bird herself. She was unlike any bird Agent 12 had trained. He never needed a hood for her, she would just calmly sit on his fist, although he felt she wasn’t comfortable. When Agent 12 first flew her he had to give her a push; it was like she had never flown before. She was eager when she got the hang of it. Agent 12 would have to squint into the clouds to spot the small crossbow-shaped shadow wheeling around. The bird flew higher than any other falcon Agent 12 had encountered. He knew that she wasn’t ordinary �" how could a bird from S.W.O.R.D be ordinary? �" but she still wowed him.

Then the day came. Two officials in black came out to the field to analyze the bird’s flight. As if sensing this, she flew so high Agent 12 could only make out a dot in the sky. Then she came plummeting down, faster than she had ever before, so fast the gawking officials almost broke Agent 12’s concentration. To equalize the speed and power the bird threw at him, Agent 12 whipped the lure around so vigorously even his gloved hand started to sting. When he finally threw the lure out for the bird to catch, the officials applauded behind him. Agent 12 couldn’t help smiling himself.

A crowd had started to form as Agent 12 ripped a huge chunk out of quail and fed it to the bird. Suddenly, and official hastily pushed through the crowd and made his way to Agent 12. He noticed the official was wearing a leather glove. The official’s eyes were clouded with sympathy.

“I’m so sorry,” he said hurriedly, and held out the glove. Agent 12 glowered, but he handed the bird over anyway. He would miss her. He loved her uniqueness and tenacity. She seemed to enjoy flight, unlike any other bird he had flown.

When the crowd had subsided, Agent 12 noticed a shadow on a light post a few feet away. It was a neon-eyed osprey. He knew who it was.

“Wilson!” Agent 12 called. He tapped his empty glove. The neon-eyed osprey hopped off the light post and re-appeared on the glove a few seconds later. Agent 12 handed him a leftover piece of quail. He didn’t want anything to remind him of the bird that was just yanked away from him.

Agent 12 gently stroked the osprey’s feathers. “Let’s go home.”

Reviews

[Locke Redwyne (night sy..]

at one point you spelled tortured as torchured
also at another point you used " instead of ,
also this chapter starts before the other one, wouldn't it be before the other one?
also the " why would a bird from S.W.O.R.D be normal " phrase shouldn't have spaces in between the words and the quotatation marks
better written than the last one

[Peregrinator7]

something must have glitched when i uploaded it. those quotations are supposed to be en dashes or commas. i don't really want to change it, since i'm just going to be rewriting it, but thanks for the input =b