April 6; 11:00 -Environmental Training-
Thunder boomed, shaking the earth as white flashes ripped through the sky, fracturing it with the weight of terrible lies and publicity stunts of false honesty. The school had nearly been exposed, and they were teetering dangerously and recklessly on the edge of funding and cuts. That was what pushed them to intensive training, less food, more guards, they were getting cautions, and ruthless. It was why she was standing outside, before noon in just her shirt and shorts. Training clothes in a windy cold storm, sheets of freezing rain poured down on her sensitive skin like razors and needles. Her wings took a beating, still folded they soaked up the nearly frozen rain water, the feathers growing heavy, lacking the nutrients to produce oils, to protect not only her wings, but her skin, eyes, and hair. They were robbing her and themselves of efficient data.
Wet feathers were heavy, and it didn't help that she was trembling, soaked to the bone in the dark world, grey clouds blocked the sun in a lighting filled rage, she was to fly through the storm, with wet feathers. Her eyes fell shut, her thin clothes hardly dry and clinging to her dark skin. She knew she had dark skin, the color of the coffee and cream most Whitecoats had, she knew her hair was a ball of frizz, not that she was ever able to see her reflection. She had no idea what she looked like, just these facts, and such was the way of the School. They favored ignorance, liked to play the hands of god. She frowned, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms, pulling her feathered limbs closer.
The building behind her switched on an ugly yellow light, which glowed against the grey wet pavement at her feet, and she knew they were watching her. Seconds later, a shrill sound pierced the air, shredding it like paper worse than the lightning, the speaker was on, and fuzzy. The scientists up in the grey concrete observatory control room all watched her with narrowed eyes and accusing frowns, fingers poised on the ends of pens which clicked with impatience. One man leaned forward, as he ran the experiment, and pressed a white button in the panel, speaking into a black microphone, "How does it feel to be outside again?" He asked her, from the tinted window all six scientists watched as she curled more into herself, refusing to look at them. Hate seared on her skin, creating and icy hot pain in her muscles. The scientist spoke again, after letting his team write down notes, "We have an interesting day today, J3-32. You feel like flying?" What choice did she have? A sneer surfaced on her lips and she shook her wings, water flying everywhere. Could she even fly in this weather? In the wind tunnel a week ago her wings had pushed harder and faster than ever, and she was tired, how was she expected to fly in needle like rain? "Do you have an idea of what we're having you do? I'm sure you've figured it out by now," The speaker spat, J3-32 stepped back a few paces, watching as dim green lights began to flash briefly, lighting up a metal runway. Steam hissed out from under the metal plates in the ground as they began to move, and a tiny beep sounded in her ear.
Her hand flew to her neck, or more so the device around it, as if sharp metal prongs poised at her neck wasn't enough, the device hummed with electricity. This sick game where she'd get shocked if she did something wrong, something short of the perfection the scientists wanted from her. She wasn't a dog going too far from the house, but they were treating her like one. Slowly against her will and to her orders, she crouched into a sprinting position, she could run 100 meters in 7 seconds, faster than a human olympic runner, only because of her genes. Because of the School, this much she knew, because she weighed so little, because she had extra air sacs in her lungs and ribs, because she was designed to be aerodynamic. The platform before her began an incline, like a ramp as soon as a bell chime echoed through the yard.
Erasers watched through the rain as the dark figure stretched out her wings, snapping them as she ran, shuddering her feathers and checking her angles, and then she was beating her soles on the hollow metal, heels slamming down first as she pounded harder, breath coming up short. Then she jumped, out into thin rain ripping air as the platform under her gave and dropped. Arms out in front of her she watched as she dropped, plummeting to the ground, her heavy wings struggling to keep dry, to keep her airborn. She screamed, falling, hands flailing for the platform, grabbing hold and slipping, she spun, nosediving and spiraling to the ground.
The pavement was hard, and cold, like a chair slamming to her back, she fell face first to the ground from 35 feet, screaming out as her bones shattered, grinding and embedding themselves into her muscle, her skin scraping and skidding against the rough ground. Her leg was twisted, and her wrist was sprained, her head was dripping with blood, a scrape and gash across her temple into her hairline. The world was dark, and spots filled her vision, little orbs of green and purple. Then everything flashed white and searing hot rocked through her, body seizing on the ground her wings stilling and falling limp she screamed. Clutching her neck, and the collar that electrocuted her, nails scraping limply at her neck. It stopped, and she collapsed from her knees, her shoulders and wings crying out for medical attention, not that she'd get any. The intercom screeched again, "Get up," he said, and she cringed, her body trembling from the jolt, from the pain of her wounds, of the shock of falling. Terminal speed she knew, she wouldn't reach unless she were high her, but still. "Get Up!" The speaker barked and she crawled slowly to her hands and knees, bleeding out as cold rain poured on her back, on her tired wings.
She sat back on her haunches, on her heels which dug into her pelvic and tailbone. Her hot orange colored track shorts were soaked though, clinging to her legs, her white shirt no better, save for the smeared wet blood on the collar and chest. Her hand reached up, and she looked to her right, hissing at the tender gash which throbbed at her skull. She tried not to cringe when she thought about it, but her eyes caught movement, in the tree dense area next to her. Looking up with wide eyes she shuddered and scrambled on a lame foot to the shelter of the trees, running out of the observatories sight.
Her bare feet screamed out in agony at the sharp dried pine needles beneath her, but also relished in the feeling of soft and nearly warm ground, the sheets of monsoon like rain didn't penetrate the canopy, in fact, water only dripped through the thick branches and leaves, hail only broke through to be destroyed by sturdy tree limbs. A shiver passed through her, and she gingerly folded her wings, looking up at the great abundance of life around her, ironically sitting beside a place of horror and death. Her arm in pain, she walked on sore feet deeper into the dark recesses of the forest. It would have to take 6 or more people fingertips to finger tips to wrap around the base trunk of one of the redwoods.
Her fingertips brushed against the ragged bark, tracing the grooves up and around, hitching her nails. She envied them, going so tall. She couldn't fly higher than 364 feet, her wings weren't built for that, and instead of going by the normal development cycle, the School pumped in too much of her advanced abilities for her to go any higher, her highest speed however in the wind tunnel so far was roughly 72 mph for about 40 minutes, but that was it, then her wings would give. Her eyes closed and she breathed in, pressing her body to the tree in an embrace before she shook her wings free, the feathers spreading out and shuddering, droplets of water fanning out, she ruffled them, letting air tuck into them as she took a few steps back. Wings pounding, beating against the air and nearly touching the ground she lifted, running up by the balls of her feet on the tree, she would lift off, she would. Spinning and dodging branches and leaves she left it to flying, bursting up into the storming sky, forgetting about the hail, about the rain and the booming thunder she flew, higher than the treetops until her wings quivered, then she fell back, stopping, staring at the sky as her collar beeped, they were looking for her. Hovering for a moment with extended primary feathers she narrowed her eyes at the sky, it shimmered. She guessed another 300 feet higher and she would be fried, it was to keep others from escaping, no doubt the barrier stretched like a dome. Narrowing her eyes in anger she huffed, looking at the facility before her.
Then she fell backwards and spun, swirling back into control and diving with bent wings for the canopy, breaking through with minor cuts and plummeting to the ground dangerously, beating her wings she crashed down on the first Eraser she saw, knocking him to the earth, staring at another, fanning her wings before launching herself at the next, shoving them back into a tree. They swiped, reaching for her wings but she pushed off, flying up into the branches, looking down at the ground, she could fly with dry feathers, she could fly with oils, but they didn't know how deeply rooted her determination was, she would get out.