Hi guys! So, me being my stupid self didn't think to make a poll and just said put it in the reviews. It confused some people so I tried to make one and I think it failed… so yeah. I can't figure out how to embed it so if it didn't fail, it's wherever polls are. But, just put which one you think in the reviews, and I'm well aware of the fact I didn't elaborate much on my second, but to clear any confusion up, she's a hardcore mutant soldier. Also, before I forget, Max's voice is gone, she just talks to (and argues with) herself in her head. Insane, psycho, School escapee, remember? Anyhoo, here's chapter eleven.
(Random note from halfway through the chapter: yes, I am a grammar Nazi, bad spelling drives me mad, and I was raised to be like that, however, actual grammar sucks. I know it, quite well, actually, but I like to think that it doesn't apply to me. X3)
Chapter Eleven
Phoenix
I flew up into the night, and hovered there, just for a second. I remembered the remote in my hand and pressed the button. I breathed in deeply, savoring the unrestricted airflow as my collar plummeted to its doom thousands of feet below me. I looked down, staring at the mutants practically pouring out of the ruined truck with flashes of various colors burst, and I realized they were mutant's powers, including elements. Of course, I bet they were desperate to get out, no, I know they were desperate to get out. It was nearly three times the size of your average moving van, and jam packed with cages, so I could imagine there being well over a thousand mutants, maybe two thousand in there. I mean, it was huge and the crates were stacked up to the ceiling. Maybe there were more bird kids in there. Maybe, just maybe, I could make a new flock. New flock… kind of like my old flock. No! Bad Max! The flock is done. Dead to you. I pounded myself in the head, again and again until I felt the blood drip down into my eyes. Blood? Oh yeah… when they reinforced my bones, they gave me titanium spikes on each finger, kind of like permanent, brass, well titanium, knuckles. The metal cones were on the first section of each finger so when I made a fist to punch someone, my spikes would tear into their skin. They were that sharp. I had only nicked myself with one, because when you're hitting yourself it's not exactly easy to properly punch yourself. Whatever.
Shrugging off my feelings, I disappeared into the night, going into hyper-drive in an attempt to outfly my memories, but the resulting sonic boom nearly knocked me out of the sky. Oof, I'm not accustomed to that anymore. Somehow, I kept flying at that speed and went on till morning. Wow. I didn't truly know if I could still fly until now, and I managed to go on for a few more hours. I stopped on a cliff and sat on the edge, feet dangling off, to rest. I munched on five granola bars from the backpack before I lay down and went to sleep.
I awoke a few hours later, I think. I shoved the rest of the granola bars down my throat and went hypersonic (it is a word). It wasn't too long before I reached a town. Still at the outskirts, I looked down at myself. Whoops. I was still in my bloody hospital gown. Yeah, I needed to change. Change like I had. Lose what everybody knew and come back different. I looked in the bag. There were jeans, a maroon t-shirt, and a black hoodie. I took them out and quickly changed behind a tree. I noticed the bottom of the bag contained something. I reached in and pulled it out. It was a pair of nice sunglasses with a note attached.
Max,
You should wear these, your appearance would be quite alarming to most folks if you didn't.
-Jeb
Whatever. I put the shades on, figuring I'd look in the mirror next chance I got. Jeb's a fucking weirdo, a bastard, and a two-faced weasel, but my hunch is that he was right, and, I mean, what harm could a pair of sunglasses do? Famous last words, Max. Oh, shut up.
Spending money… how should I start? I walked along trying to find something until a certain place caught my eye. Perfect. I'm gonna get drunk. There was a bar across the street and I walked up to it. I knew I was goddamn skinny, but I could say I was recovering from anorexia. Ha! Anorexia! Me and the flock were the complete opposi… Bad Max! Bad flock! They should die! I should die! I dug my spikes into my wrist, as hitting my head may get me locked up in a mental institution. Which happens to be where the employees of the School belong. The school… No! No! Bad school! Bad torture! I screeched mentally, digging the spikes deeper into my wrists.
Whoops. I shouldn't be doing that. I shook my head and wiped my hands on my hoodie (it was black, no one would notice), before walking up to the front entrance. A bored looking bouncer stood there, waiting for something, anything interesting to happen. I didn't know that feeling all too well, as my umm… lifestyle made it so that I savored any peace and quiet that I got.
"Can I come in?" I asked with a little attitude. I got my fingers broken for attitude at the school, once. Bad Max! I shouted inwardly, barely resisting the temptation to pound myself with my knuckles. Wait a minute, it called me Max (a/n Max isn't quite sane enough to fully comprehend that she is talking to herself)! I'm not Max! I'm Phoenix! No response was heard. Eh, whatever. I refocused on the man in front of me. He gave me a once over, giving noticeable looks to my hair. I looked at my hair, which, after these years (and random experiments) has grown to halfway down my thigh. It wasn't brown anymore, not even blonde. It's a whitish silvery color thanks to the School and it's messed up ways. They also sped up its growth, and, besides that, it had to be a complete mess.
"Like your hair," he said stepping aside to let me in. Weirdo. I stepped into the bar. Were just starting to enter, no one there was mingling, just drowning their sorrows, or, in some cases, almost themselves, in alcohol. This was exactly what I had planned for the evening, never mind the fact that I've never actually had an alcoholic drink before. I walked up to the bartender and leaned right in her face.
"Shot of whiskey, please." I said loudly. She jumped back in shock, but quickly poured my drink which I immediately chugged down. It burned my throat as it went down, and I nearly coughed it right back up. I knew I'd regret this tomorrow, but I just needed a day of doing something like this to ease off all the stress. I slammed it back on the table to make it clear I wanted more. Just as fast as the first time, she poured it, and I chugged it back. I started to feel a little woozy and strangely… happy. It was so… so weird.
The night drew on, the place filled up, and I grew increasingly drunk. Whoops. NOT! Hehe. "Vodka!" I randomly exclaimed, "I want vodka!" in truth, I didn't know what vodka was past these three things: it was Russian, it was alcoholic, and it was strong. At least I thought it was. Randomly, as the bartender poured my vodka, I laughed like an evil maniac for no reason besides "I felt like it". She looked at me worriedly, but handed me my drink. About an hour later, things grew… interesting. I was downing a random martini after laughing evilly again. A good "muah ha ha ha" was good for your soul. Proven by scientists. I thought randomly. No, wait! Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad! Scientists are evil! I'm not 100% sure when I got vocal, but I did.
"NOOOO! The whitecoats are coming! The whitecoats are coming!" I screeched, "The end is nigh! Nigh! Nigh! NIGH!" and that is how I got kicked out of the first bar I've ever been in. The random urge came out of nowhere, but, well, given I'm here and all, and given I'm gonna kill myself soon, I might as well do it. I walked up to a random boy, kissed him full on the lips, and was now walking away, cackling maniacally.