My name is Ezzy. You can call me anything if you prefer, but it doesn't really matter right now. Because I am sort of lost, well very lost, and I'm flying blindly over New York City. As bad as that sounds, no I'm not a pilot of an aircraft with lots of passengers. Thank you God it's just Me, Myself, and I that I will be responsible for killing when I crash.

If you were wondering, no, I wasn't born in a lab, and I didn't grow up in dog crates. But, yes, I have wings. That would be how I'm flying blindly over New York City without an airplane.

Enough about me, let's talk about New York. I love New York. I fell in love with Broadway before I got feathers, and always dreamt of returning. Just not as a bird freak, I was an ordinary human in my dreams.

As much as I would love to watch another production, we weren't here for pleasure. My goal was to reach a business building somewhere in the heart of the city, but wouldn't you know it, I found some erasers. Winged erasers mind you, or else maybe I wouldn't have to be flying haphazardly through New York City to try and elude them.

Apparently, they were guards for said building, because another group of bird kids came tearing through some time ago. That or they got tired of hunting mutants and took up being gargoyles for the local buildings. But I doubt that because they were on me like flies to honey when they saw me. I don't know if I want to cheer Max and her Flock on or beat them for endangering us!

Let's be real, I could never beat Max up. I'd be too busy fangirling to remember to throw a punch!

I have admired her ever since I learned about them and what they were doing at the Institute (aka The School). It's not really their fault either, considering they don't know we exist, and even if they did, how could they know what we were planning?

So, anyway, I concluded, like five minutes ago maybe, that the best idea was to try to lose the erasers. All I had to do was a little dodging and a little weaving through God knows how many skyscrapers. It shouldn't be too hard, right?

I should have known better. You see, since I wasn't born with bird DNA, I am not very, um…, graceful, while flying, and I can only fly for so long. And the erasers apparently had more experience flying with grafted wings than I did.

To say I wasn't totally surprised when the eraser chomped down on my leg would be accurate. I still cried out though, because let's face it, I am a softy when it comes to personal pain. And kittens. And puppies. And little kids. Okay, okay, I'm just soft all the way around!

I kicked the eraser in the nose, and he let go of my leg, the blood already really flowing. I could have sworn I saw white bone when I looked at it, but let's not dwell. It's not going to help me escape to stare at it. There certainly wasn't time to think any more about it as he and his friends were closing in on me.

I went into a straight dive parallel to some office building. I passed about three startled people looking out their windows as I passed, but I didn't bother worrying about them, since I was counting on people seeing me.

The erasers recovered quickly after I started dropping and were at first right on my heels. But I soon I was within close enough view of the ground, and all the wonderful, wonderful people crowded in the streets, the bloody erasers had to pull off their chase. At least until they could find a hole to crawl in so they could revert back into their inner-model.

In the meantime, I just pulled my wings in as tightly against my back as I could, and landed on my feet amidst some very startled people. It was a total superhero pose! Sorry, I think it's cool enough to mention.

Except for a couple stares and whispers, I was walking down the street unmolested. See a chick falling from the sky and superhero posing? Just a normal Tuesday.

I mean, have you seen the naked cowpeople around here? New York has a lot of weird, more than enough for me to fit in.

As painful as it was, I walked for about an hour with my leg, doing everything I could to blend in. I didn't see any erasers the whole time, which I took as a good sign that I lost them. My stomach began rumbling, and I paused for the first time since early this morning.

As it would happen, my poor luck landed me in front of a diner when my stomach decided to say something. I hungrily looked through the window at all the food with greedy, coveting eyes. After a minute or two of imagining myself eating the fancy plates of Italian food, I forced myself to leave, ducking into an alleyway.

The only other person there besides me and an old tabby cat was a homeless person. He looked like he was passed out, and after I lightly kicked his foot, my suspicion was confirmed. I cautiously let my wings out and began flapping. I took a running start and jumped as high as I could. I struggled to climb the vertical feet between me and the roof.

After I made it there, I collapsed, blood loss and difficult vertical flying having finally caught up with me. I checked my wound for the first time since I escaped my pursuers. It was sluggishly bleeding now, since I had crudely tied the string on my coat around it like a tourniquet while I was walking around New York. It still hurt though, and my walking on it probably didn't help.

I untied the string and took out an old scarf from one of my many pockets that I saved for just such an occasion. I tied it as tightly as I could manage and grimaced, just a little. I was getting cooler in the waning evening, and I was still tired and hungry. I decided to move again, since the erasers might be able to track me through the scent of my blood, and I was weaker than ever.

I ran/hobbled to the other side of the roof I had landed on and leapt across the way to the residential building beside it. I used my wings to help me glide the large expanse, figuring that my scent would end with the puddle of blood on the roof I left behind me, and my target was harder to get to then the others around it. They should (hopefully) look for me where I was going last, and by then I would be gone.

I settled by the vent on its veranda, safely hidden behind white stone features and a little garden. I could just see into the spacious room with a glass door. The lights were on, and I caught a glimpse of a guy in a suit with a nice-looking hat on.

He looked busy with a painting, so I figured he wouldn't be a problem for the time being. If he tried to come out, I would see it, and had about a dozen escape routes already figured out. While he worked with his painting, I worked a little more on my leg. I took out a little vial of rubbing alcohol I kept in one of the other many pockets on my cargo pants for sterilizing.

Before the wings, I learned about how to treat minor wounds in a nursing class. It has certainly served me well in my attempts to stay alive since we escaped from the Institute. I missed it sometimes, the regular school. I loved learning, especially all my science classes and the health classes.

I blinked at the gathering of tears, brushing the little traitors as they fell. I missed my family, and I blamed myself for their deaths, even if there wasn't anything I could have done. Not that I really believed that. There probably was something I could have done, but I couldn't even think of what it was yet.

That's why I was in New York in the first place, because there were six of us slated for experimentation, and their records were in the Institute's New York office. But now I'm wounded and separated from my brother. He and I are all that we have left of our families.

In reality, he's actually my cousin, not brother, but I love him like a brother. He's too young for this; he's just nine years old. But he's quite the trooper. And he had better be at the rendezvous point in the morningunharmed, or I'll kill him myself!

I hunkered down further and decided it would be wise to try and sleep 'till morning. I packed up the supplies I had taken out to work on my leg and curled into the heat coming out of the vent, letting myself relax slightly, still worrying a little over Ade's safety.

I woke with a start when I heard the glass door opening. I froze where I was, trying to remember where I was. The episode with the erasers came back to me, and I winced at the pain my leg sent me to help me remember.

I watched the nicely dressed man from last night with the painting carry a newspaper and a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in one hand, while holding a phone to his ear with the other hand, "No Peter, I haven't seen the painting since we were at the museum."

The man he was talking to must have said something to make him roll his eyes as he set the paper and food down. He made a few affirmative sounds as the other man continued to speak, but it was clear this guy was paying more attention to the newspaper.

I suddenly found myself drooling and staring at his food. Do you know how long it's been since I've had bacon? Way. Too. Long.

I leaned forward to get a better look at it, and – SMASH! – The flowerpot I was leaning on fell over. I mentally smacked myself over the head for that one, but the damage was done, the guy turned around when he heard the noise, and probably saw the top of my head before I could finish ducking.

I silently prayed that he didn't. I prayed long and hard in the span of a couple seconds before my hopes were dashed. "Ah, Peter, I gotta go. I accidently knocked over one of June's flowerpots. I'll meet you in thirty minutes. Bye."

I decided to count my blessings as the man approached, at least he didn't tell his buddy what really happened. I moved further back and to the side, and carefully pulled out my hunting knife. I grimaced slightly, because the poor guy was just trying to eat his breakfast in peace when I get myself discovered. But you had to do what you had to do. Besides, if the erasers found him with knowledge of a bird kid, it would be the end of him.

When he passed me, I quickly grabbed one of his arms, pinned it to his back and brought my knife up to his throat.