Metronome

Marvel: New York City by Night

Hey Grec. Thoughts on reviving Lucas the exorcist?

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

"We don't need normal names because we won't be talking to normal people," Flick grumbled. He didn't want to socialize with any normal humans. It could only lead to trouble. After all, what did they have to offer them that they couldn't get on their own?

Flick rounded a corner and laid eyes on the source of the amazing smell: some place called Waffle House. What was a waffle? And this place looked nothing like a house. But whatever; they had food. Flick eyed the all glass front of the restaurant warily. There were several patrons inside. They would have to slip by without getting their attention.

"Keep a low profile passing the front," He said as the lead the way towards the building. Flick shoved his hands in his pockets and walked as casually as possible to the back. Once in the trash and loading area, obscured from the road, he pulled his hands back out and made a beeline for the dumpster. They'd have to be quick; there was no telling when an employee would come out to throw out more trash. He tossed the lid of the dumpster open and grabbed a bag.

"Everyone grab one; there's gotta be some food in here somewhere." They could drag the bags off somewhere less conspicuous to look through them.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick let out a throaty growl as Dizzy deliberately disobeyed him. It was all fun and games until the police showed up. When the boy was done, Flick gave him a firm smack on the head. Not too hard, but hopefully hard enough to knock some sense into him. He then took the rest of the bags into the alley, where they could search through them in peace.

Flick tore open a particularly bulky one and found an old backpack sitting on top. He immediately began to rifle through the pockets for anything left behind. A couple quarters, an empty notebook, and a odd little flat foil wrapper with the word "Trojan" written on it several times. Useless garbage.

The older boy dug through the clothes for something suitable to wear, tossing some spare clothes into the pack as well. Just in case. He found himself a pair of worn blue jeans with a couple tears in the front. Not the warmest things, but they would do. He set them aside with a drab green long sleeve shirt and a black jacket. Socks, a pair of boxers, and even a pair of shoes from another bag made up a halfway normal looking ensemble.

Flick shouldered the bag and tucked the clothes under one arm. "Stay here," He said to the group, then walked off a brief way down one of the side alleys to change out of sight. Ever since he'd returned from over seas, Flick had been very careful to hide his new scars from the others. He wasn't quite sure why he felt the need to; maybe he just didn't want to scare the shit out of them. The possibility that the same could happen to them. But now, even after escaping that fate, he just wasn't comfortable opening up about it.

He peel off his dingy scrub top and let it drop the ground. Flick spread his wings out briefly, letting them breath for a moment before tucking them back in tight. His back was marred with two large scars that looked suspiciously like burns. Accompanying them were dozens of other, smaller ones from cuts, burns, and possibly even bullets. Being that he healed faster than a typical human, who knew what all he had endured.

Flick used his slightly grown out claws to tear two small holes into the back of his new shirt, then worked them down until they were big enough to let his wings through. He then tugged the shirt on and pulled the jacket on over top. Next, he discarded his old scrub pants. His legs were just as scarred up as the rest of him, and his tail, once long and graceful, was little more than a gruesome nub. He didn't even bother making a hole for it anymore. Flick dressed himself the rest of the way, tied his shoes, and put the back pack over one shoulder. He planned on keeping it to tow stuff around in, if they ever found anything useful.

As he made his way back to the others, his mind now less occupied with staying hidden, a whiff of food crossed his nose. The humid air from the rain carried it, and his heightened senses picked it up. He stomach gave an angry growl. Despite having been much less vocal about it than the others, Flick was starving. In the last few days alone, he was pretty sure he'd dropped a few pounds. The smell of fatty breakfast foods cooking was entrancing.

"Follow me," He said to the others as he came back to face them. He doubted anything they found would be as good as the hot, fresh food he smelled, but it was a good place to look. Flick headed out of the alley and began to follow his nose towards the smell.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick drug a hand down his face when Mal and Crash decided to strip down right there to change. He'd forgotten that these kids weren't taught any form of modesty. He himself hadn't learned it until the past year. But, luckily, he did. Because this was sure to gain attention. A single car drove by, but didn't stop or slow down. Flick could feel the driver's eyes on them.

"You can't just strip down out in the open," He said with a hint of frustration. "It'll draw attention to us, and I'm pretty sure they have laws against it." Flick bent down and grabbed three of the trash bags, hoping that they would find suitable clothes inside. He glanced around and spotted an alley right across the street, mostly obscured by some dumpsters.
"There," He pointed and began to usher the others across the street towards it.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick, once his wings were tucked in and obscured into his shirt, ventured out slowly into the open. The park was deserted. Only a lone jogger could be spotted across the open field.

"I don't know," He said to Crash. His plan was to find some nearby restaurants and hope for the best. He tucked his hands into the shallow pockets of his pants and tried to look causal, like he belonged. But he so very obviously didn't. Flick looked back to be sure the others were following him.

"Try to keep together." Strength in numbers after all. At this point, one of the straying from the group could mean being permanently separated. This place was so big and unfamiliar, their chances of finding one another again would be slim.

Flick was hesitant to walk near the road, but something caught his eye. It was a big, metal bin with the word "Donations: shoes and clothes" plastered across all four sides. He began wandering towards it. The bin, placed next to the road for convenience, would offer them better, more inconspicuous clothing. However, being so closed to the road meant they could possibly get spotted stealing from it. The park was open enough that Flick felt confident in their ability to escape if need be.

Once they'd reached the bin, he paused to look it over. It had a large hatch on the back for emptying, but it was padlocked shut. "I need something heavy," He said, mostly to himself, as he looked around on the ground.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick remained on the ground to see to it that all the others made it up into the air. They'd come this far; he wasn't going to lose one of them because they were being stubborn. Flick then unfurled his wings. His wingspan was an impressive fourteen feet, built for strength and agility into one. His grey and white feathers caught the sun, the feeling of warmth soothing after the last few long, wet days.

Flick was up in the air with a couple strong beats. He caught up to the others with little effort. His eyes did an automatic scan of the horizons. They had been very cautious of flying vehicles since their escape. At the first sight of a plane or helicopter, Flick had made everyone land and hunker down. As they closed in on the city, those things were bound to become more plentiful.

It didn't take long to get there. By the time the flock had reached the outskirts, the sun was peaking over the tall buildings. Flick remembered seeing a city in real life for the first time; it had been amazing. Breathtaking. Intimidating. He knew the others were bound to be wary, as was he.

"Land down in those trees there," He pointed to one of the last clumps of trees before the city began proper. It appeared to be part of a park, with lots of trees, bushes, and shrubs to hide behind. Flick banked down and took a dive towards the tree cover. The harpy eagle DNA in him allowed for the maneuverability to swoop into a forest and land on a dime. He came and touched down behind the truck of a large oak, then went about tucking his wings in as far as they would go. Luckily, unlike the birds they were modeled after, their wings could folder over several times. This allowed them to hide under clothes fairy easily. However, the gaping slits in the back of his scrub top was bound to get a few odd looks.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick was going over game plans in his head. Get to the city limits and find a restaurant. His time out of the facility had taught him that cities produced a lot of waste, and restaurants produced food waste. He wasn't above eating out of the trash, and he doubted anyone else was at this point. Then, find clothes. He remembered there being these...bins that people would drop clothes off in to be given to others in need. Well, they were certainly in need. Then they could-

The others' bickering started to break his train of thought. Mal was threatening to run off on her own, and Crash, Dizzy, and Rook wanted to go hunting. Why did Rook want to go hunting? Flick took in a deep breath when he heard wings beating air, and sighed it out to channel his patience. He look up at Mal, hovering above them.

"Mal, don't start this early. Crash, Dizzy, Rook, hunting is not priority right now. We don't know this area well enough, and it'll take too long. We need to get going if we don't want to be seen."

Keeping these kids together was like herding cats sometimes. The irony of the statement was completely lost on Flick.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

Flick looked up the sounds of the flock stirring. Dizzy approached him, optimistic for food. "No," Flick said briefly, handing the boy a fistful of hazelnuts and mulberries. Mal grumbled to life. She quickly brought up the argument to go into the city, citing the need for the food. It was an debate he'd been having with himself all night. Crash pitched in, and then, to his surprise, Rook. It seemed that they were a lot more open to the idea than he was. Flick knew he would soon be outnumbered.

"I think we should go into the city," He said, his voice calm and slightly gravely. It always sounded like that; probably from lack of use. "We'll have to be very careful; no talking to or taking food from strangers."

These guidelines were perhaps the most the boy had said since the escape. A sad fact, considering that he'd been much more vocal in the last three days. Perhaps now he just had more to say. He looked down at his own clothes: stained and torn scrubs, made of cheap, scratchy material. They stood out way too much for them all to go prancing into town at once. Perhaps he could go alone and find them some decent clothes. Or steal them. But then again, the idea of leaving the other kids alone worried him. Would they be okay?

He guessed they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. Flick took the rest of the berries and nuts into the cave and laid them out. "We'll have to go soon. If we get there early, there won't be many people out."

During his time...away, Flick had learned some basics about human society. People liked to sleep in. Cities didn't wake up until at least around seven. And now it was...five, maybe? He wasn't sure; telling time was one of his weak points.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

The sun was a strange sight after three days of nothing but rain. The rolling gray clouds had finally drifted away, giving mercy to the poor, soaked bird kids out on the run. They'd taken shelter over night in a shallow cave, formed by rock structures and tree roots. They were dirty, hungry, and scared. Sleep was hard to find, but that was nothing new to Flick.

He was already awake, sitting by the mouth of their pitiful shelter, watching the sun creep up into the sky. It was so surreal...seeing it like this. Not through a window, not surrounded by desert...just...free.

But for how long? His inner pessimist nagged. Flick pushed that thought aside. He turned his head to glance over at his shoulder, peering at the shabby group of rag tag kids snoozing behind him. He wouldn't, couldn't, let those monsters get their hands on them again.

He stood and walked out into the cool morning to start picking up fallen nuts from a nearby tree. They'd been living on raw nuts, berries, and whatever they could catch for the last few days, and the lack of nutrition was starting to get to them. A quick scouting trip last night revealed that they were close to a large city. Flick debated whether the prospect of potential food was worth the risk. They had to eat, but the idea of being surrounded by strangers, threats lurking anywhere, make him dread the idea.

They'd been through a lot over the past few days, from start to finish.

Flick was curled up in his cage, half way asleep, half awake. The sound of rain and thunder penetrated the walls, even this deep into the facility. The others were sleeping quietly, waiting for a new day and new tests to begin. The door to their storage room unlocked, and Flick cracked his eyes open. It was a bit too early for testing, wasn't it?

A person dressed in a large, black hoodie and sweat pants walked in. They wore a ski mask, hiding their face. Flick sat up immediately, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end at the sight of a potential threat. The person made a beeline for his cage. He glared at them, his gleaming eyes making contact with theirs. The he could hear them fiddling with the lock on his cage. The door swung open. He recoiled, expecting to be grabbed. Instead, a key landed on the floor in front of him.

"What are you waiting for? GO!" The voice was modified; robotic almost. Flick looked up. A trap? But then, just as sudden as they had come, the mysterious person fled. Flick didn't waste another second. He burst from his cage, grabbing the key, and began going around and releasing everyone else. They needed to get out of here, fast.

Gloomy Skies and Kids Who Fly

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