When John Watson was younger his parents weren't the wealthiest people in England. They were faced with a decision many lower class parents were being forced to make; they didn't have enough money coming to support them and their two children. They could force themselves in to starvation or send one or both of their kids off to a government based camp for kids who couldn't be supported by their parents.
Kenneth Watson, John's father, would always whisper to his mother Valerie that something needed to be done. They were drowned in debt and they were sinking faster towards the bottom. He would say he hated the idea of giving away his kids but he was the one suggesting they did it. Valerie shushed him quickly because she would always catch John listening in on their conversation.
Even then, when John was only seven he understood that they had problems and there was a possibility that he and his sister Harry could be shipped off. That didn't mean he wasn't afraid of leaving his parents, or his home. Harry didn't help him either, telling him every night that John was a bad boy and would be shipped off.
John would lay awake at night scared that what Harry was saying was true. He didn't want to ask his parents either, afraid that would anger them. He didn't want to be bad, he wanted to be good and stay home. So he worked hard to get good grades and made sure to pick up after himself at home. He was going to prove Harriet wrong.
X
When John was twelve his parents sat him down at the kitchen table; Harry was at a friend's house, which made him worry about what they had to tell him. They were the Watsons; they didn't do anything without a family member present.
John was sitting straight in his chair, watching as his father paced the floor. "John," he started, his voice was softer than usual "we need to talk to you about something."
John nodded slowly, urging them to continue. Valerie sat forward in her chair and took John's smooth dirty hand in to her own. "We love you," she blurted out as tears started falling down her face.
John looked at her muddled; he never seen his mother cry. He looked at his father who was now sitting next to his mother; a guilty look could be seen in his eyes. Suddenly he understood what was going on. "We don't want you to forget that," Ken said. "This isn't because we hate you."
John's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He didn't want to believe what was happening. "You're sending me away," he whispered, it wasn't a question. It was never a question, he knew from a young age that he wasn't going to be living with his parents for his whole life. He watched as his mother sobbed even louder, he could tell it wasn't her idea, and he could tell by the way his dad couldn't look him in the eye that he was the one behind it. He paused, before something clicked. "Wait, why isn't Harry here?" If they couldn't afford two kids why weren't they sending Harry with him?
Ken lifted his head and looked John in his warm blue eyes, the eyes of his mother. "Harry's almost eighteen," was his only explanation.
John could feel tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't want it to hurt so badly but it did; then again he was being rejected by his parents. Not even his sister, who was already showing signs of going down a bad road, was being rejected. Only good boy John was. "Of course, that makes sense," the blond finally chocked out. He tried to laugh, act like he really understood why he was being given up, but it came out sounding more forced than he was hoping.
Valerie squeezed his hand before he pulled it away viciously. "Angel, you have to understand," she said desperately, "Harry will be able to get a job soon and help support the family."
"Then why don't you keep me 'til she can," John asked, he didn't mean to sound so small. "I don't want to go."
Ken slammed his fist on the table stopping Valerie from talking. "You are going," he said harshly. His jaw was clenched and he was getting red in the face.
John flinched, that was the dad that he knew; the one that shouted all the time. "But it doesn't make any sense," he tried to reason with him.
"I don't care," Ken shouted. "I don't care if it makes no sense; we are the parents and that's what we chose."
Everyone went silent when they heard a knock on the door. John's eyes widened. "You already called them?" he asked. He couldn't believe what was happening to him.
He didn't get an answer; instead Kenneth stood from his chair and let the person in. A tall man dressed in black walked in with an unpleasant smile placed on his face. "You must be John Watson," he said, his voice too high for his body.
John turned to his mother. "Mum, please don't make me go," he whispered to her.
Valerie grabbed her son's hand again. "Sorry Angel," she answered. "Your father already signed the papers." She really did look sorry; she didn't want her baby to leave her side.
A large hand was placed on his shoulder; it was gripping him too hard. "Come on Mr. Watson," the man said again. "We don't want to be late for the opening ceremony."
John was pulled to his feet forcefully, but somehow it looked like he got up on his own. He tried to wrench himself from the iron death grip but it only tightened and he cried out in pain. "Mummy, please don't let him take me," he hollered. "I don't want to go! I'll be a good boy; I'll work whenever I can. Please don't let him take me."
"You've always been a good boy," Valerie told him. "I love you John." Their hands slipped from each other's grasp.
John struggled to get free again but the man just lifted him up and threw him over his shoulder. Valerie let out a strangled moan as she watched John kick and scream. She wished she could do something but Ken was now in front of her keeping her from running after them.
"Why?" John cried out before he was carried out in to the cool night air. He was screaming on the top of his lungs. The neighbors opened their window and looked out at the commotion. They did nothing, they knew that it would happen at some point, they knew that it could be their child and yet they did nothing. They understood what the Watson's had to do and turned a blind eye.
John was thrown in to the back of the car. The man slid in next to him and sent him another unnerving smile. "Don't worry John, you'll be safe in our hands," he stated. John swallowed hard; he didn't feel safe at all.
X
John has been at the camp for a year already; it was a horrid place for anyone and wasn't even a camp, it was a military base. Every kid, that's all they accepted, upon arrival would be given dog tags after being checked out by the doctors. The dog tags had their name on it, their blood type, and a five digit number. John's number was 81575.
Every day he had to recite the number to someone behind glass and they would hand him a small blue and yellow pill. He would take the pill swallow it in front of them and go on with his daily routine.
Through the past year John learned general first aid and was already on his way of learning more advance medical training. He learned how to shoot a gun and kill a person with a variety of weapons. He was becoming what someone would call a killing machine; despite the fact that he hasn't killed anything but bugs in his whole life. He didn't like the thought of killing someone anyway, unless they were in the wrong and threating a life. He had classes; normal classes he had at school when he was going.
The last few weeks though John has been going through horrible pains whenever he laid down in bed. They were getting so bad that he could barely move during the day and had to go to the hospital on base.
He was lying on his back looking up at the plain white ceiling; the fan was making shadows whenever it passed over the light, setting a calm mood for John. The noise from outside his room was quiet through the large medal door. He was barely conscious; the doctors earlier put some kind of pain medicine in to his IV, he was surprised that he was able to keep his eyes open.
John started when his door banged open and a doctor strolled in. "John H. Watson," the doctor said cheerfully, "number 81575. You're in here for back pains?" John nodded feebly. The doctor checked something off on his chart. "Can you sit up for me?"
John put shaky hands on to the stiff mattress and lifted himself up slowly. Pain shot down from his shoulders to the bottom of his back. He tried to hold back any noise but let out a strangled whimper.
The doctor ignored his cries of pain and stepped forward. He ran his pen over his back making John cringe in even more pain. "The skin is very sensitive around your shoulder blades," he mumbled to himself. "Tell me John, does this hurt?" He pushed his hand down on his shoulders.
John's body felt like it was on fire, he screamed piercingly. No thirteen year old should have to be in the amount of pain he was in. The doctor relieved the pressure; John took in mouthfuls of air in trying to calm his heart that felt as if it was going to explode. His hospital gown was sticking to his body with the amount of sweat pouring from his body. "What's wrong with my back?" he coughed out after he got his breath back.
The doctor looked up from his clipboard as if he just noticed that John was in the room. "I'm not permitted to tell you," he said casually. "You'll be move to cell block G, when you get there you'll be told what is going on." He smiled down at the boy before walking out of his room and motioning towards someone out of sight.
Two young adults came in to the room; one of them had a mask and quickly placed it over John's face. John didn't even have a chance to struggled, whatever gas the mask was emitting worked; it was strong and worked fast. He was out before the other nurse could even strap him to his bed.
X
Cell block G was a small room with four gray concrete walls and the door had a look through hatch towards the top. John woke up to the sound of someone talking outside the hatch that was open. He was instantly nauseous; the gas was still affecting him he tried to stand but his right leg was too heavy. He looked down and noticed a large chain on the bed connecting him to the iron bed post.
The door opened and Jensen; the head of the base walked in. "I see you're awake Mr. Watson," he said as he stepped closer to him. "I'm here to talk to you about what's happening to your body."
"Why am I chained to the bed?" John asked in a raspy voice.
"Precaution, we don't want you attacking me do we?" Jensen answered swiftly. "Now, your body is changing. The pills you have been taking have a chemical in it that I formulated that will mix with your DNA and mutated it."
John stared at him; he wasn't making any sense. "What kind of change?" he questioned. He wanted to know what was happening to him.
Jensen smiled; his teeth were too bright and too straight, they scared John. The head sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on John's arm. "You're growing wings," he said passionately. He looked like a kid with a bag full of candy.
John's brain stopped; did he hear him right? Was he really growing wings or was Jensen off his rocker and didn't know what he was saying. "Are you kidding?" he asked; he wasn't aware of his voice being so soft.
Jensen's face suddenly became serious. "Of course I'm not kidding," he told him sharply. He stood from his bed in a quick movement. "Now, you'll be in here until you're wings are fully grown. If you survive the process you'll be moved to the special ward."
John reeled his head back up towards the crazy man. 'Did he just say if I survive?' he asked himself in a panicked voice. "What do you mean if I survive?" he ejaculated loudly.
"Well not everyone's body is strong enough to withstand their change," Jensen told him truthfully. "More than about half die, but you don't have to worry about that; you seem plenty strong enough. You may be small but I can see it in your eyes, you'll survive."
John ran a shaky hand through his sandy hair and wasn't sure what to say. He couldn't believe he had to live the kind of life he was living. He couldn't help but think if his parents knew what was happening at the base they wouldn't have sent him there. He shook his head before he looked back up at the head. "How long is the process?" he asked without really thinking about it.
"We're not sure," Jensen told him. He turned on his heel and walked towards the door. "That's all you'll need to know Mr. Watson. Trust me; you're going to be fine."
X
John screamed as he braced himself against the cold gray wall. The skin on his back was being torn apart by bones that were shifted just underneath it. He could feel every bone forming in to a new shape and moving about. Sweat was pouring down his body mixing with the blood from his open wounds; he wanted the pain to stop, he needed everything to go back to normal before he was mutating. His hands were in fists and he pounded as hard as he could against the wall as he tried to keep his mind off the blinding pain from his back.
Another burst of pain erupted from his shoulders and he let out another horrific sob. He swore he could see his life passing before his eyes every time the bones pushed through his skin. He wished he didn't have to live any longer if he had to go through what he was now. John started to believe that the ones that died killed themselves so they could be over with it; it didn't see like a bad idea at the time either. He would be done with all the pain; that's all he wanted to get away from.
The pain subsided for a moment. John was able to catch his breath. His throat was raw from screaming and his hands were bleeding from constant pounding on the wall. His pale skin was in shreds, it was barely there; they looked like a red sponge that was over flowing with water. John stumbled off his bed; hitting the cold floor hard and he crawled over to the water bucket that's changed every day for him. He dipped his hands in and let out a gasp of relief and pain at the same time. He saw his crumbled up dirty shirt in the corner of his small room and used his feet to grab it so he didn't have to move too much.
Once he had the shirt in his hand he ripped off long strips with his sharpened teeth. He wrapped the fabric around his cuts on his hands; it would have to do until he was able to get them proper medical attention. He cupped his hands and dropped them back in the water; he brought back up a handful of water and drank it. It tasted like blood and dirt; it almost made him throw up but he kept it down; the water was all he had and he was thirsty. He brought up another handful when he felt a twitch in his back. He clutched on to the edges and got ready for the searing pain to begin.
But John didn't feel anything. Everything was going fuzzy and he was getting slowly closer to the ground. He was able to see someone's shoes get nearer as if in slow motion and could hear a deep voice shouting at someone. He couldn't make out what was being said but he vaguely felt his body being lifted off the ground. The darkness around the edges of his visions closed in quickly and rendered him blind; he was unconscious again.
X
John woke up again face down in his pillow. He lifted up his heavy body and noticed that his hands were bound in clean white gauze. He saw Jensen staring at what appeared to be an x-ray. "Brilliant," slipped from the man's mouth as he held it up to the light. "Look Mr. Watson, you have wings inside your back. Look."
John saw what he was looking for. He could see his bones in the shape of folded up wings in his back. He could see why it hurt so much to grow them; they had to move up his whole back just to get out. "Wow," he whispered. He couldn't help himself, despite the pain it was pretty interesting what was happening inside him.
"You've been out for a few days," Jensen told him taking back the x-rays. "They've been growing when you were asleep. Look over your shoulder."
John looked behind him and saw the tip of gray matted down feathers. He reached his fingers back and touched them; they weren't wet like they looked but dry and a little rough. His touch made them twitch and he hissed in pain. He looked up at Jensen, who had his large perfect smile on his face again, with his own small smile on his face. He couldn't believe he actually had wings.
"I'll be leaving now," Jensen announced after John was silent for another minute. "I'll see you later Mr. Watson."
John wished he could touch the tips of his wings again but he didn't want to cause himself pain. He opted for just watching them over his shoulder. He couldn't wait for them to be fully out; he wondered if he could fly when they were. He laid back down; pushing away thoughts of future pain and welcomed the thoughts that had him soaring over fields in the warm sun.
X
Four months; that's how long John's been in cell block G. His wings were almost fully grown and he's was losing weight constantly. He raised concern the next time he saw Jensen but the man told him it was fine and that it was supposed to happen. He was getting lighter so he could lift himself up better with his wings.
John's fingers were also changing; two of them weren't changing but his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger were changing. His bone started pushing against his skin and grew about two inches long and curved. The skin around the bottom healed over and the bone that was sticking out became harder than normal. He's hit them a couple of times against the wall and ended up breaking his hand but the talons didn't even get chipped.
He liked his talons; he could grab his meat without a fork and perch himself on the bar at the end of his bed easily. Jensen seemed to like them also; he spent hours look at them once he found out John had them. He told the boy that he never planned on the talons coming; he was only sure of the wings coming out nothing else. John also asked why his teeth became sharper; he didn't have an answer for that either.
X
One day when John was eating his small dinner his back started twitching; he started to panic; his back wasn't bothering him for a while and to start now scared him. He threw his plate to the floor as he felt pain start to form in his back. He bit his lip; piercing the skin because of his sharp teeth and tried not to scream.
John gripped his bed post; he could feel his wings growing even larger. He knew they were almost done; he hoped that he was going through the last growth spurt and that he would be free of the solitary room.
The medal door clanged open and Jensen stormed in. "How come no one told me he was having another growing session?" he yelled at the two guards that patrolled the halls outside of the cells. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and stuck it in to John's neck.
John felt the pain drain away; he was drugged again. Every time he had a spurt he would only have to endure the pain for a little bit because Jensen liked to take x-rays every time to see what was happening and how close he was to having full grown wings. He heard someone tell Jensen that he just started and they didn't hear him.
As John was being carried out on his stomach he started to wonder if everyone else got the same treatment as he did. Was everyone treated kindly and by the head or were they cast aside. He suddenly felt guilty all of a sudden; he didn't want to be treated specially. At the moment though he couldn't do anything about it; he was slipping in to unconsciousness as the drugs started to take their course.
X
When John woke again Jensen was staring at him happily. "They're done growing," he announced proudly.
John looked behind his shoulder and saw the gray wings that he has been seeing for the last four months; they were bigger definitely they now reached just above his ankle. He pushed himself off the bed and stretched them out for the first time. It felt great; like he was stretching his arms and legs after a full night of sleep. "They're wonderful," John breathed out. He reached back and ran his fingers over the feathers; he couldn't help but contain a smile as he started to flap them back and forth.
"Those feathers aren't your real feathers either," Jensen bubbled, "you have to shed these and your real ones will grow in. They'll be beautiful."
John couldn't wait for that to happen. "Now what?" he asked a little out of it.
Jensen stood up straighter and smiled down towards him. "Now we transfer you to your new home in the special ward," he told him.
John remembered hearing about the special ward; when someone went in there they usually weren't seen again. Everyone back on the normal base believed that if you were brought there they were killed. He swallowed hard; suddenly the happiness wore off and he was afraid of what was lying ahead of him. He wasn't ready to enter the special ward.
X
The special ward was basically like the normal base; except everyone that was there had gone through transformation and had some special mutation. John was assigned his roommate a few days after he was shipped off to the ward. John didn't expect to see a small boy with dark eyes and a bit of a crooked smile. The boy's name was James Moriarty but right off the bat he ordered John to call him Jim; he hated being called James; his parents used to call him that all the time and he hated his parents.
Jim was part spider. He could shoot webs out of his wrist like spider man and could grow two extra arms. Whenever he was about to use his abilities his eyes would turn dark red. It scared John whenever he would wake in the middle of the night and Jim would be sitting there shooting off little web balls and his eyes would be glowing.
John liked Jim a lot; he was nice and smart. He loved to mess around in the science lab on down time and detested target practice even if he was a good shot. Not as good as John though; he had a weird knack for being a crack shot. He also barely slept, sometimes he would stay up for nights on end doing nothing but messing around with whatever he could get his hands on. He also liked to connect his web to different people see how long it took them to notice that they were being watched.
John was a little afraid of Jim. He would sometimes talk about how to kill someone; John would listen and think that his friend was crazy. He wouldn't ever voice his thoughts to the other; that would risk a great friendship that he had with him.
John was allowed to fly around a large gym; he wasn't allowed to fly outside ever. He liked to fly around and bounce off the walls; he would fly in circles and see how close he could get to the ground before he had to pull up. It was a game John, and Jensen would throw in some obstacles to challenge the man.
John figured out that Jensen did treat him differently. He treated him better than most of the other people on base. That didn't mean he didn't want to try to get out of the prison like camp. They weren't treated like humans; they were treated like monsters. The mutants weren't allowed near the kids that just arrived and were in the first stages of having their DNA morphed. They weren't allowed to use their abilities outside or around any workers that weren't trained to take care of animals. John shuddered at the thought; he didn't feel like an animal, although he did eat a few mice every now and then. He was still human though and deserved to be treated as so.
John found out too quickly that if he even looked at a worker in a weird way then he would be shot with a tranquilizer dart and hauled off to a holding cell. Jensen wasn't too fond of the way the guards took care of them but refused to hire new workers. He said that if they felt safer around the mutants with their rules and guns then they could do whatever made them happy.
John and Jim tried to escape so many times and that's why they found themselves in a jail cell on John's twentieth birthday. They tried to escape; it was Jim's plan, he was the clever one out of the two of them. He told John that his plan was flawless; but he didn't know about the chip implanted in the back of their necks.
They were sitting back to back in separate cells. Each had a cup of water; John requested it from one of the guards. Jim didn't seem too happy about his failed attempt at escaping. He was sure that they were going to be able to get out that time.
"Aw cheer up Jim," John told him; he was chuckling about himself. He knew that eventually they would get out; they couldn't just have a whole bunch of trained killers cooped up with each other for too long. "We'll try again some other time."
Jim slammed his cup down on the ground making John jump slightly. "You know what Johnny, that's we're you're wrong," he let out through clenched teeth. "I've calculated we'll all be killed in three weeks' time."
John's eyes widened. "What gives you that idea?" he asked a hint of anger in his voice.
"I have my ways of finding these things out," he told him. "I heard that we're not going to be alive by the end of the month, none of us. So we have to get out of here as soon as possible. Do you understand that Johnny?"
"Well that's some horrible birthday news," John muttered as he sipped at his rusty tasting water. Conditions have gotten worse at the base over the last eight years that John has been there. Some people who came later to the base told them all about the new government that was taking over England. A law was passed that made all the kids that were born with deformities to be taken away from their parents and killed regardless of the deformity.
A kid named Mike told him that his little sister was taken away because she was deaf. Another kid said that her brother was taken because he had a stump of an extra finger.
John talked to Jensen about it one day and he told him not to worry; the new government didn't know about them. John asked if he could have a newspaper everyday so he could keep up with what was going on in the outside world. He read all about how the government was against a deformed world and only allowed people who were "perfect" to live. It sickened him to know that the world was changing so drastically and that people were letting someone like that to come in to power.
John figured that's why the conditions were getting worse at the base; they were running out of money they had to support thousands of people and couldn't keep everyone healthy and fed all the time. 'Maybe that's why they're going to kill us,' he thought to himself. He felt something drop to the pit of his stomach. It was déjà vu, except now he was being lead in to certain death and not just a camp. Jim would be right then; they didn't have the right funding and they couldn't be let the mutants free or the government would get them, the only logical thing to do was to kill them. John didn't want to believe Jensen would do that; he loved everyone at on the base, claiming they were his; he created them, they all were his children. It was a sort of twisted love; he allowed people to hurt them all they wanted and stood back saying 'no, stop it' in a useless tone. John didn't understand him sometimes.
The door to the jail house opened up and Jensen stepped in with a disappointed look on his face. "Mr. Moriarty and Mr. Watson," he sighed; the two men were always a problem for the older one. He opened up their cells and allowed two guards in to each. "Take them to separate rooms; I'll be there in a second to deal out their punishments."
John was lifted up by his armpits and dragged out of the cell in to a room with no windows and chains on the walls. Only the ones that have been in the room knew what happened in there; you weren't allowed to speak about it to anyone it was a rule that Jensen demanded that always be followed. John's been there plenty of times to know what happened behind the closed doors.
John was dragged over to the chains and waited 'til they clamped them over his wrists. He was hanging there stretching out his wings against the cool wall. It felt good to stretch them out after having them bunched up behind him against the bars for the last few hours. He lifted his head to glare at one of the guards.
The guards snarled at him and turned away. The door flung open and Jensen walked in with his hands behind his back. He stared John straight in the eyes before turning to look at the guards. "Twenty lashings," he announced. He twirled on his heel and started for the door.
"I think we should clip his wings," one guard piped up; it was the same guard that John smiled at. "That way he won't be able to escape by flying."
Jensen shook his head; he walked over to John with a glint in his eye. "What's the meaning of having this angel if he wouldn't be able to fly?" he ran his fingers through the soft black feathers. John flinched, he didn't like it when the older man touched his wings; it felt weird. "Twenty lashings and that's all you're allowed to do to him."
John squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the endearment his mother always used for him when he was younger. He found it ironic that she called him angel and he grew wings like one. Except his were black, maybe he was bad after all. He pushed away those thoughts; he had to remind himself that he wasn't a bad person.
Jensen left the two men to do their bidding on John. All John could do was to wait for the beatings to be done. Then he would be left to hang for another two days before he was going to be set free. It was worth it though; John and Jim were the closest they've ever come to escaping; they were able to taste the freedom that was on the other side.
But John had to think about what was happening. Was the world outside the base any better than inside it? The stories about children being taken away and killed just because they were born different was horrible but it had to be better than being starved to death and whipped the moment you stepped out of line.
Every whip to his chest brought him closer to his decision. He no longer wanted to stay where he was; he wanted to be out with the rest of the world where he could make a difference and die fighting a cause.
X
John made up his mind; he was going to escape with Jim. They had everything planned out, it was going to be the same plan as last time but they were going to dig the electroshock chips out of their neck. It was a painful process but the two of them have been through worse. They had to see how far the chips were down; John allowed Jim to dig in to his neck first so they could find out all the information. By the end of the week they both had bandages around their necks that no one questioned and were ready to leave. John was feeling anxious; he couldn't wait to be free again and not some old man's soldier. It made John feel guilty though; he liked Jensen but he was a weird man who felt as though he was god. He loved to rule over everyone at the base and didn't like when people disobeyed him.
John was tired of the way he was living there; dirty water, old worn out clothes, rancid meat, and beatings from anyone that wanted to hand them out. He wanted to get out and fight against the "normal" people that thought they were better than them. He wanted to fight a war that they all were being sheltered against. John knew how to fight; he knew how to shoot a gun and fight. He and Jim could stop a war; anyone at the base could.
He wasn't sure why they weren't let loose on the world; they could possibly end the fight and over take the government that was spreading rapidly all the over the world. He could help those who were fighting against them.
John pushed himself out of his thoughts and prepared to get ready to fly over the high fence with Jim in his arms. He looked for the other man over everyone in the yard. He spotted Jim's jet black hair in the large crowd and he started moving towards him. Suddenly though Jim was taken by the shoulders and dragged away.
John started to panic; they were supposed to be leaving when the guards changed post, they didn't have much time before then. He tried to push his way through the crowd but it was too thick to get anywhere fast. He heard shouts behind him; he looked around and saw two guards heading towards him. His eyes widened; someone must have found out that they had another escape plan and told squealed.
John looked towards the sky then back at the guards. Stay here and be tortured or go out and fight the world were his only two options. 'Sorry Jim,' he said to himself before he spread his wings and shot up to the sky. The air rushed past his ears in a loud roar; he couldn't hear the yells from below.
Once he was high enough to fly straight over the fenced John changed his course. He sped towards the open fields beyond the barriers of the base. His large wings beat against the air making himself go faster and faster. He was over and he wasn't shocked by bolts of electricity this time.
John started laughing; the air tasted sweater on the other side of the fence. He spread his arms out and let himself soar over the tops of the tall trees; the sun felt better than it did at the base. Everything outside was better than what was on the inside.
John brought his hands back in and felt something drip on to them. He quickly looked down and saw his red blood dripping from his shoulder. He blinked a few times before shock finally set in and he went unconscious.
His wings stopped flapping; he floated for a millisecond before falling straight for the trees. His body was limp and most of the impact was absorbed by his wings when he hit the branches.
John's comatose body was tangled up in twigs, branches, and leaves. He couldn't be seen from the ground by anyone that was looking for him.
X
Jensen sent out a search party to find John's body before he went and talked with Jim. He walked all the way to the holding cell where they kept the arachnid and stopped inches away from the bars that separated the two.
"Mr. Watson is gone," Jensen told him.
Jim looked up with wide eyes. He never suspected John to leave; John was loyal and would always stay by his side. That's what he told Jim hundreds of times. He searched Jensen's face and found that he was telling the truth; Jim's only friend was gone, left him behind to rot. "Good for him," he opted on saying. "He deserves to be free of your death grip."
"I'm protecting you kids," Jensen told him. "You're my children."
Jim growled the older man sickened him. "You created us," he yelled launching himself to his feet, His eyes turned red and he shot a web around Jensen's throat, pulling him hard against the bars. "You created us in a world that will never accept us. You call us your children but you harm us regardless. You're not a father to any of us."
Guards rushed in and shot Jim with a tranquilizer gun. The young man's eyes turned back to brown before they slid shut and he fell to the floor. Jensen rubbed his neck, taking in a few breaths to air back in to his lungs. "Any news on Mr. Watson?" he asked. The three guards shook their heads. He nodded and left the room.
He was later informed that the body of John Watson could not be located anywhere in the forest in which they shot him over. Jensen felt sick to his stomach; he was hoping to have his magnificent bird back in his cage.
So, what do you think? Would you like to hear how Sherlock grew up or would you like me to never write again because I stink so back you can smell it through your computer? I would really like you opinion. It would be nice. So yeah anything will do. I expect reviews! Mwhahahahaha! BYE!