Author's Note: I am so sorry to everyone who has looked all month long, and been left hanging. I know I hate the waiting, and I had every intention of not doing that with my stories. But that funny little four letter word got in the way (you know, l-i-f-e). So anyways, sorry it took me so long to get this done and up, but here it is. I'll try to update every two weeks at least, but no promises. (Sorry!) Thank you so much for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoy!

"Listen and listen closely," I whispered in the guys ear, and to his credit, he was pretty calm, "I won't hurt you as long as you cooperate. Nod if you understand." He nodded and I continued, "In a minute, I'm going to let you go, and you're going to go back inside. And you'll forget I was ever here. Got it?"

Apparently, the guy had some kind of experience with these situations, because he started talking to me in a soothing voice. "How about we talk just a minute, I mean hey, I know what it's like to be in your shoes. Trust me, I won't turn you in, I don't trust cops, I've been a thief for years. We could have breakfast, and or some wine I have inside."

I wasn't inexperienced in this stuff either, but I knew the danger of the school that he didn't. Although in this case, I decided it might be beneficial to play along for a little bit. I let a little uncertainty creep into my voice, and slackened my hold on his arm a fraction, "I have my own list of things to do today. Why should I listen to you, anyway?"

His reaction was subtle, but I caught it all the same. He was buying it, getting confident, and getting ready for the final hook. "You got here without me knowing about it, so you're obviously good at getting in, and probably out, of places. I'm working on a high profile, big money job, and I need another guy to pull it off. If you work with me, I'll give you a cut."

I wasn't sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult. I mean, really! He thinks I'm just another thug! If anything I am not a thug! So what if I borroweda couple of cars, some food, and some clothes! And maybe or maybe not some-body's boat!

Okay, so maybe I did steal some stuff. But I'm no thug; it was that or die! I mean, isn't that some form of self-defense?

I decided to go a little further with him, if or if not it had anything to do with my pride at this point, "How much are we talking about?"

I applauded myself on my acting skills. He was relaxing already, and I in turn further relaxed my hold. "We're talking a hundred grand per cut," he said with, what I'm sure, was a winning smile, if I could have seen it.

But I should have known that Murphy's Law was in cahoots with my bad luck, because someone started knocking on his door. "Neal? I brought the stuff you asked for."

"Is your door locked," I hissed to him as I dragged him further away from the view of the glass door. He nodded and I told him, "Tell him you'll be there after you pick the flower pot you knocked over."

He repeated what I told him to say, and his friend admonished him to hurry up, or he was leaving. I wanted to put that to the test, and proceed with my first plan, but it was too risky. I paused a minute, again debating what exactlyI was going to do, when 'Neal' decided to speak." Hey Moz, did Peter Langley call yet?"

"What are you doing?" I yanked on his arm as I hissed at him, knowing on instinct that he had used some kind of code. He grimaced slightly, but remained silent, just shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. His lack of verbal response fueled my suspicion.

It was confirmed a moment later as my raptor hearing picked up the muffled and faint sound of a cell phone being dialed.

Which, in reality, my 'raptor hearing' actually wasn't raptor hearing, just better than normal hearing. But calling it raptor hearing makes me feel better.

I quickly abandoned Plan B (which I am willing to admit was just to wing it) in favor of my original Plan A: knock him out and fly away.

So I grabbed the blade of my knife, and promptly hit the guy's pressure point in his neck. I dropped his unconscious body on the ground, and jumped up the vent to the roof. From there I ran across the roof and spread my wings, going as high and as fast as I could.

For once I could say I was actually happy to leave New York. Not that I didn't still want to see a Broadway show before we high-tailed it out of here.

I face-palmed for real this time, tired of my very unhelpful, distracted thoughts. My new goal was to rendezvous with Ade, and so far, I was failing. Considering I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE I WAS!

Note to Self: When flying away from a normal human, fly to somewhere you know. Not blindly at full speed in God knows what direction!

I started looking for anything familiar, and to my great relief, I saw part of Prospect Park way off to my left, with my raptor vision. Which is the same as my 'raptor hearing' in case you were wondering.

Think of my word choice as chocolate ice cream after you break up with someone. You can stick with your comfort food, and I'll stick with my comfort words. Especially since I don't have a lot of opportunities to sit down and hang out with a pint or two of Ben and Jerry's.

So I started flying straight for the park, looking for the Botanic Gardens in particular. I shortly thereafter made my cautious descent, looking for anyone who was looking my way. I landed between the gardens and Flatbush Ave, safely among the trees. We picked this place ahead of time because it was known for the thickness of its trees, and the lower concentration of people.

I then cautiously picked my way towards the 'road', and crossed it, headed for the…buildings, if they could be called that considering their size. There was a bathroom, a subway access, and food nearby. But more importantly, we would be away from birdwatchers, the bulk of people, and the congestion of the city.

I went to our designated meeting place, and to my great relief, there was Ade.

He hadn't seen me yet, so I waited and watched him. He was tall for his age, due to the intensive gene experiments, and thin. He looked tired, and I could guess he waited up all night for me. His blonde hair was greasy and matted with dirt, but at least he was in one piece.

I was walking up to him when he finally noticed me, but when he did, his face lit up. "EZZY," he shouted running up and throwing his little arms around my neck, squeezing as hard as he could. "Hey there kiddo," I said as I ruffled his hair, forming a mutated mo-hawk of sorts. I laughed, and he mock-scowled at me, trying not to laugh with me.

We walked away from the tree and toward the hot dog vendor, food prevalent on both our minds after our little bonding moment was over.

I walked ahead of Ade, and passed the Hot Dog vendor, taking my place on a park bench, inconspicuously reading a magazine someone had carelessly thrown on the ground. Ade then ran laughing down the path towards the vendor.

He turned his head and waved to some imaginary figure behind him, purposely clipping the vendor's cart. He dramatized a bad fall, and subsequent injury. The vendor ran around his cart and to the bawling boy on the ground, muttering to himself about 'better not be getting sued'.

While he was running to Ade's side, I got up and went to his cart's side. I walked right behind it, and quickly shoveled two rows of hot dogs into a Wal-Mart bag. Then my dinner bag and I calmly walked away, just looking like a homeless bum with a raised collar and ratty plastic bag that probably contained plastic bottles.

Ade and I had learned this little trick, (among others), to feed ourselves. Now before you get the wrong idea about us, we don't always steal from the poor street vendors, (because I have a really guilty conscious). I mean, let's face it, when you are a mutant freak on the run, you tend to avoid humanity at large, so you won't frequent street vendors.

But as for right here, right now in one of the largest cities in America, you just got to do what you have to do. So I rounded the corner and waited for my brother too caught up, our dinner waiting.

Isn't incredible how your plans, hypothetically speaking, are ruined in an instant by the little unforeseeable things? Like when it rains on a sunny day, or when your date forgets the date you've been planning for a month. Or like, oh I don't know, say your-brother-rounds-the-corner-being-pulled-by-an-angry-looking-adult-whom-you-have-never-seen-before-in-your-life?

I don't know about you, but that sounds like one of those little things, hypothetically speaking. But if ever you're me, standing in unfamiliar territory with lots of innocent bystanders, and it really does happen to you, just remember: You're not dead yet, good luck staying that way. And don't forget to have a nice day!