Three hours later, Fang was flying over somewhere in Arizona, Total dozing off in his backpack. The heat of the sun wasn't much of a bother to him -- there was a nice air current coming from the west. And although it did hamper his journey a bit -- travelling against the wind was quite rough -- he didn't mind it at all.
Just then, he heard his stomach growl.
He hadn't eaten in quite a while, and he was starting to get tired. So he decided to go down to the nearest town and rummage around for food. After all, he thought, I can't save them on an empty stomach.
A few minutes later, he was walking on the streets, looking for a Dumpster. Anything with food would do.
He finally spotted the nearest McDonalds. Perfect, he decided, loads of food here, never mind the calories. He needed the calories, anyway. Being a bird kid did that to you.
As he dived into the Dumpster, he felt the sky getting darker. He glanced at his watch. It was only 3 in the afternoon. Bewildered, he looked up to the sky.
Flyboys were swooping down on him.
Without
skipping a beat, he launched himself into full combat mode. A
roundhouse kick here, a punch there. Dammit, he thought, if
only Max and the others were here.
One of the Flyboys managed to kick his shin hard. He jolted backward, stumbling over a bit. In revenge, he targeted the base of their spines, a weakness he knew from past skirmishes with others of their kind, giving it a roundhouse kick.
Pretty soon, all the Flyboys were taking dirt naps -- and Total was stirring.
"Did I miss anything?" Total asked.
"Not really. Go have some food," Fang offered, a hamburger patty in his hand.
Total sniffed the patty in Fang's hand, then said, "Rotten burger patties? No, thanks."
"Fine. Starve then."
Total pondered on this for a while, then said, "Okay, fine, but that's only because I want to see Angel and the others again."
Fang said no more about this, and continued eating.
Max, he silently whispered to himself while taking a bite out of a chicken nugget, I hope you're alright.