Fang

I was numb. There was no other way to describe how I felt sprinting away from the creatures that wished to rip me apart. No other way to explain my emotions. In fact, if it wasn't for that slowly-evaporating drop of hope that Maximum Ride just might still be alive, I would be broken by now.

However, giving up isn't something I do. Even without being able to fly, even without my sanity, I still pushed myself to keep moving. I couldn't die; not yet. I had to know first. Know she was gone. Once I knew that I could stop running. But I didn't know. Not yet anyways. So I kept on moving, listening to the obnoxious beat of my heart that tuned out all other sound, sweat dripping down my face and making my drenched shirt cling to my body.

Sometimes I stumbled, or just face-planted, but I never stopped moving. I couldn't. I didn't know what was behind me, growling and snarling and snapping, but I sure didn't want to find out.

I think I had been running for an hour when my vision started to blur at the edges. A red haze began to blind me at the mere thought of how Max could be going through this too. She definitely couldn't be pushed this hard. Not now. Of course, Max wouldn't have ran for this long. She would have turned around and snapped the neck of whatever threatened her.

I didn't really have it in me to kill anything, but if I wasn't so stripped-of-feeling I'd probably turn around and take my anger out on whatever was forcing me to sprint for my life.

I had been trying to keep my breathing even, but after so long I couldn't anymore. Now my breathing was ragged as I took in desperate gulps of air, trying to keep the pain in my side at bay. How long had it been since I had a drink? A day? Two? How long can a mutant bird-kid go before dying of dehydration?

"Stop," A voice boomed over the intercom system. The creatures horrific roars began to fade, but I only risked slowing my pace. I couldn't stop yet. I wasn't sure if I was safe or not. "Stop!" The voice commanded once more, and I gradually came to a halt, looking over my shoulder once to find nothing but a dirt ground behind me. Normally, I wouldn't listen to them, yet at this point in time I was too exhausted to deal with the kind of punishment these people gave for acting out.

A few Erasers walked onto the barren field, snickering about something as they approached me. "Hey Birdie, how'd your run go?" One asked, barking out a laugh as he grabbed my arm, sinking his nails into my skin until he drew blood. I didn't flinch, I couldn't. I was just too tired to do anything but let them drag me away.

"He won't be a birdie for much longer," Another said, a delighted glint in his eye as two of them pulled me not towards the cages, but towards the labs. I gulped, not daring to ask what he meant, too afraid of the pain I was about to endure. Maybe it was time to just shatter, to just give up, stop caring, let Fang die.

"I wish I could be the one to rip his wings off," The third one growled, and I almost smirked. The first day I arrived here, I had broken that Eraser's jaw, shattered his arm, and made his fur turn red with blood. I had been pretty satisfied with my work on him, but now he was getting his sweet revenge.

"Maybe you can, Boss. I don't think Doc will care how they come off as long as they're gone by morning." The one who had made my arm bleed suggested. I finally forced myself to focus, take in some details. The one who had just spoken had light blue eyes. Too human for his wolfish features. And the other one who had grabbed me had dark brown eyes, but other than that smear of diversity, they both looked almost exactly the same.

'Boss' grinned a toothy grin, showing off his yellow canines and letting a growl of delight pierce my ears. "You might be on to something," He slipped behind us and I pulled my wings in tight. I could care less whether they worked or not; they still had working nerve endings.

"Come on Birdie, spread your wings," He chuckled, linking his hands together and smashing his fist down hard against my back. I yelped in surprise and fell to my knees, losing my concentration and letting my wings open just enough for him to grab one and yank it out.

The other two held me there, waiting for the Eraser to rip my wing away, but he never did. A Instead he held one end crushed it towards me like an accordion.

I felt every bone in my wing break. Heard every crack as he slowly broke me from the outside in. I let out a scream of pain, and in that moment my vision become sharper than ever before. Every sense I had went on high alert.

It was almost like the excruciating pain I was feeling somehow strengthened me. This only lasted for a moment though, and then the agony consumed me until something merciful finally happened; I passed out.

The next time I woke up my back was nothing but a collage of pain. I was laying on my stomach, staring at a wall, unmoving. If I moved it hurt, if I breathed it hurt. Everything hurt. Minutes, or maybe hours went by before I finally forced myself to suck it up and get to my feet. Of course, I already knew why I was in so much agony. I already knew what they did to me.

And even if I didn't want to believe it, I had too. Because when I reached behind me to feel for my wings, I felt nothing. No feathers, not even the slits where my wings would hide in when I wasn't using them. Not only had they cut my wings off, but they had made sure they wouldn't grow back.

I blinked, not sure how to react at first. I could no longer fly. There was no chance of my flying feathers or whatever the hell they were called growing back. No chance of me jumping off Eiffel Towers or saving my girlfriend from falling from high places. I couldn't hover in the air, or do loop-da-loops, or even fly through the clouds anymore. Never again would I feel the exhilaration of falling headfirst towards the ground only to be saved seconds before being flattened by extending my wings. No longer was the sky really my limit.

And because of this. Because the scientists had taken away the one thing that define me; I was happy. Really and truly happy.

A smile crept onto my face as I thought about how I was no longer my father's pet. No more would I be called 'Birdie' or 'Freak'. Right now, standing in a cage, my only chance at salvation ripped off of me, I broke. But I didn't break in the way I thought I would, too full of pain and sorrow to keep going.

I broke because I was just too happy to be finally normal to worry about anything else. I was normal. I was just a guy. A normal guy. Sure I'd have some scars on my back, but I was normal! I was finally the one thing I had been pleading to be since I became a freak. I could finally look at myself in the mirror without disgust.

I was normal.

And yet, at the back of my mind, where the happiness of finally getting those damn wings off didn't quite reach, a small echo of a voice infiltrated my thoughts.

You'll never be normal.

WHOA! OHMYSQUIRRELS! OVER 400 SQUIRRELING REVIEWS! I love you guys so much! You are the best lamps(Ryan Higa reference) ever!

Thank you so much for sticking with me through the writer's block, the months of disappearance, and the bad chapters. Of course, this story isn't even close to being over so don't think this is a farewell speech.

And for all you readers that think just because I get 400 reviews I'm going to make this amazingly long chapter where everybody finds everybody and the world falls into balance again, don't make me laugh. You're very wrong. This story is spiraling down. Getting worse and worse with each chapter. I mean, Fang just got his wings taken off for good(?) and is basically happy about it. How could I do such a thing to you loyal fans? I don't know.

Anyways, I hope you people of the MR fandom liked this chapter even if it is rather tragic. Since it's THANKSGIVING BREAK (WOOHOO!) more will be coming your way. Oh and if you haven't noticed I haven't really been updating anything else because I've been mostly focusing on this story.

Soar on

VR