SURPRISE! I bet you thought you've seen the last of me!
But fr, it's been like 11 years since I last updated this story and I'm back because I have Leviathan brainrot to the point that I pestered my fiancee into reading the whole series because I needed someone to join me on this brainrot journey.
Anywho, this is a songfic inspired by Seagulls! (Stop it Now!) because it's been stuck in my head for a week now, and my fiancee hates Eddie Malone (rightfully so) so I thought it would kill two birds with one stone. Anyways, done with the rambling and on to the story!
It was a fine day to take a stroll on the beach, or at least the famed reporter for the New York World, Eddie Malone, had thought. There had been reports of some seagulls acting strangely lately, albeit not hostile, and he figured that it might make for a good fluff piece. The stories just hadn't been coming easily to him anymore after the war was over and he needed something, anything, to report on. There were rumors that the strange birds may have been fabricated, but these were only rumors. In any case, people were wary of the beach and some even warned Eddie against going. He thought them to merely be monkey luddites to be afraid of some birds.
Those fools, he thought as he strode onto the sand. The weather out was beautiful on this summer day, and there were even children out playing in the ocean. He soon spotted the supposedly strange birds in question, hopping about on the beach in an odd fashion.
"Is this what all the hubbub is about?" he asked aloud, kneeling down to pull out his camera, disappointed. Suddenly, the seagulls all snapped to attention, red eyes aglow as they all turned to look at Eddie.
"What th-" was all he managed to get out before the beasts descended upon him with a horrifying quickness. He sprang up despite the barrage of beaks pecking him all over his head as though he were a giant french fry and made a full sprint down the beach. No matter how fast he ran, the birds could easily keep up. Everyone nearby was staring at the strange spectacle unfolding before them as more and more seagulls joined in on the attack, transfixed as the screams of the reporter mixed in the summer breeze with the cacophony of squawks from the birds.
All he could focus on was getting away and the pain from the attack. In his haste, he failed to notice the rock beneath him, catching it on his foot and sending him tumbling to the ground. He couldn't even hear the children laughing at him over the cries on the birds as they tried pecking at his knees to immobilize their prey to great effect. He then felt a dull pain in his neck.
Oh god, is this how I die? He thought to himself, assuming the seagulls had successfully punctured his jugular vein. However, when he looked over, he saw not blood, but a wayward hacky sack.
Where in the blazes did that even come from? He pondered for but a moment as he attempted to roll over to get back on his feet, to no avail. That left him with only one option; he rolled into the fetal position as his life flashed before his eyes, praying his death would be swift. He stayed like that until his whole body was sore and the feeling of the bites blended into a droning pain all over his body, eventually fading as he allowed it to lull him into a sleep. Then, as soon as they had started, the birds looked to the sky and took flight, disappearing across the Atlantic, leaving a broken, traumatized man in their wake.
Deryn slapped a newspaper down on the coffee table in front of Alek.
"Looks like you owe me dinner after all. My fabrications were a success," she told him, plopping down onto the couch next to him.
Alek leaned over to look at what the paper before him said.
New York Reporter Left Hospitalized After Vicious Seagull Attack, His Pride Most Wounded
"Well, I suppose a deal is a deal, after all," Alek answered, grinning although he had lost the bet. It was nice to see that his fiancee had succeeded in her very first fabrication project, and deep down, he was glad to see Eddie Malone finally get what was coming to him. He looked up to see Deryn holding out her fist, and he met her fist with hers in a victorious gesture.
"That bumrag," Bovril giggled upon reading the headline.