Oh god oh god oh god, this is not how I want to die.
Oh, hi there. Didn't notice you there. The name's Max, short for Maximum. It's an interesting story as to how I got that name, but as you can tell by what I just said about, oh I don't know, like, ten seconds ago (the part where I said I didn't want to die), I really don't have the time to go into that. If it isn't already obvious by the blatant sarcasm. Sorry about that.
God, I should not have just gone here alone. Why didn't I bring someone? I could have brought Fang. Or Angel. Or Gazzy. Or not Gazzy, I don't feel like smelling the bomb of the smelliest smell. I could have brought Nudge, for frick's sake, and now I'm going so crazy that I'm turning into her. Ugh. That was stupid on my part, but I'm gonna figure out something with this bird brain of mine. This highly developed bird brain. But for now, I have to focus on getting out of this craphole.
If you weren't aware already, I'm an Avian-American. I'll assume you didn't know and give you a snippet at my life. I am a test-tube baby, had bird DNA injected into me, yadda yadda yadda, and now some werewolf-mutant things are chasing me. Again. I call them Erasers, but whatever you can call them floats your boat.
Anyway, I'm just sprinting down a busy street, hoping that I'll be able to escape. Man, I'd put a five-year track star to shame. I know these streets like the back of my hand, so I should have no problem navigating it. Just one quick turn here and-
Crap. Fuck. Swear word.