Episode 3-1: Feather Flight

Detroit, Michigan: Athenian Bar

"You okay, big guy?" I ask Clyde. He looks nervous around alcohol. He always gets like this in bar scenes, he's not really supposed to be around the stuff for too long of a timeframe. Sometimes the job will send us to places like clubs or bars, and Clyde always seems distracted during his investigative time spent.

He's not recovering by any means, he thought putting a label on him easing off a little would turn it into a whole thing not deserving of attention. Instead, he just wants to consciously make an effort not to overdo it on the sauce, which is why he only drinks when I'm around. He wouldn't trust himself to count his bottlecaps alone.

"Yeah, I just…maybe one or two beers or something. You know, I think I can stop myself from getting out of hand.?

"One or two isn't going to do much to you with your body weight."

"I should get more?"

"I'm here with you, babe, I'll keep a close eye on you."

He taps his claw on the bar counter waiting for his turn. The bartender has a busy lineup tonight, and we entered last, so we get served last. "Pretty cold out, huh? How are you holding up?" he asks. He's using small talk to calm the nerves.

"I love the cold, it's you that grew up in the hot sun. How are you doing?"

His beefy arm wraps around my shoulders and pulls me closer. "Stay close, you'll keep me warm."

"Cheesy."

"I thought you liked cheese."

"Didn't you hear? I stopped watching romcoms. I'm all grown up now. Say something poetic instead."

"Your incandescent compassion radiates with the luminescence of mercy."

"Too far."

"You're hot as fuck?"

"There you go."

Clyde orders a regular human beer and gets me a more Primendian cultured mixed drink swelled with sugar and flavors. His face looks curious, fearful, worried, everything but relaxed. Once he takes his first swig, his shoulders slump as he sinks into his seat and smiles. My drink disappears at only a fraction of his first sip; it must've been a long time since he's had his last.

"Are you comfortable getting slammed while we're on the hunt?" I ask.

"We're not going hunting until tomorrow morning anyway. A drink is what I need if we're going after another relic victim. I'm not looking forward to finding out what power they have this time, it's all been extremely painful tracking down these creeps."

"Hmm…you've had your side torn out and your tongue was bitten off. What else could happen?"

His tongue slithers between his lips; it looks normal and unscarred. "Soon enough, I'll rival Frankenstein's Monster with as many body parts Dr. Nivans keeps making me. I don't even have my original liver anymore."

"And here you are tainting the brand new one he synthesized with cheap beer."

"Cheap? This bottle is seven dollars. But if it's cheap, you can pay the tab."

One drink is all I need to feel fine. Clyde orders three bottles, I make sure he only drinks three tonight. Outside is around twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit, and even though I like the cold, that's freezing and dangerous to be out for long periods of time. Opening the bar doors causes the people nearby to shoot angry glances at us for exposing them to the rushing, biting winds.

My breath is foggy out here, clouding my face as I hold the door open for Clyde. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight, his warmth is very soothing. I can still feel my fingers under my mittens going numb regardless. My eyes dry out and my lips start to hurt.

"Damn, it's cold!" Clyde says.

"Y-yeah, let's get walking back to the hotel. We'll get breakfast tomorrow and start hunting for the victim. N-now, get going before we're turned into ice sculptures."

Clyde doesn't let me go, he makes us walk while I'm trapped in his arms. "Oh, the weather outside is frightful…"

"It's January, Christmas music is back in its jail cell until next year," I joke.

"You got to love the holidays though, despite everything that's been going on recently. Not considering what the work day holds, life has been pretty good."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Maybe from an optimistic point of view. Sure, things were hard, but they're over now. I'm trying to live in the present here. Next to you, with you in my arms, I think tonight is a great night."

"Huh, you've been studying philosophy too much. Can you quote me something from Aristotle? No, wait, Epictetus."

"Hold up, I've been in this city before. Let's take this shortcut, it'll save us five minutes of freezing."

"Over here? Off the main road?"

"Just for a second or two."

It's a narrow one-way street totally empty except for the parked cars on the side. Something tells me Clyde wants to get romantic in public, and I hurry along to speed up the theatrics. His warm lips on mine will help put some blood back into them.

Speaking of which, this street seems to have an even worse chill than the main road. Maybe the winds are being funneled by the buildings and making them stronger. "Phew, getting really cold here. Maybe we should walk a little faster."

"Yeah," he says, "it feels like the weather dropped another five degrees or something. It's making my skin ache."

"I've heard of biting winds, but this is crazy. It actually feels like the wind is cutting my face."

"Cold air will do that to you. If it's cold enough, the strong gusts will feel like there's a razor sliding over you."

"Hehe…ow!"

"Babe, you okay?"

"I…" My face, there's blood dripping from my cheek. No way, there's never been a cold in America so cold that it rips my skin open. What's going on? "I'm bleeding. My skin dried out, and I think my smile caused it to stretch open."

"Oooh, that's harsh. Okay, let's start running. A little bit of blood pumping will get us fired up."

"Deal."

Clyde starts first, but he doesn't get very far. A strong wind comes blowing at us, and I see the back of his ankle spurt blood from a fresh cut. He goes back to a walk totally confused. "Hey, what the—? I didn't realize I was stiffing up."

More wind washes over my face and sends shivers through my whole body. My fur puffs up underneath my winter gear, my toes are totally numb, and my eyes can't squint any harder without them being fully closed. Stinging pain starts to attack my body all over my exposed flesh, but even weirder is that my jacket sleeve now has a strange slit in it. It looks like somebody took a fine razor and just cut it without me noticing.

"Clyde, my jacket. There's a rip in it."

"It's okay, we'll get you a new one before we leave Detroit."

"No, Clyde, the slit wasn't there before. It just happened, and my arm is bleeding underneath."

"What? How can this be?"

"I don't know. This wind is too cold, it's hurting everything in its trail. We really need to find shelter and wait for it to die down."

"You're right, it's too harsh out here right now. Come here, we'll huddle for now." His gloved hand reaches for mine, but as I'm about to touch it, hot blood rushes into my eyes as it streams out from a fresh cut on top of his hand. "Agh! How!?"

I wipe the blood off. "The wind went through your glove! See, now your glove has a tear in it too just like my jacket."

The ripping sound of the wind dies down enough for me to hear the sound of footsteps heading in our direction. A man, Primendian, some type of feline, I think he's a tiger, coming closer to us. His hands are in his pockets, he looks unbothered by this weird weather.

"Hey! Get off the street! The weather is too harsh out here! It's dangerous!" I warn.

The man slightly moves his scarf down to expose his mouth. "It is a bit nippy out here, huh? You two look absolutely frozen solid. Maybe you should take your own advice and find the nearest fireplace."

"This is no joke," Clyde barks, "get inside right now! Something odd is happening with this wind."

"Oh," the man says, "you're talking about Den of Lions?"

"Who?"

"Den of Lions. The name of my power. I'm Feather Flight, by the way, and I've been following you two ever since you got to Detroit. Agent Troy Hearth, Agent Clyde Barker. The Afterburners. I've got the right people, right?"

I don't even bother drawing my gun, it never works on relic victims. "I guess the element of surprise is out. All right, spill it, what does your power do?"

"Now why would I tell you that? Hmm, maybe because my power is so ultimate that there's not a thing you can do to stop it? No, even then, I'd still like for you to guess."

Clyde nearly falls when another cut appears on his knee. "We know it has to do with the cold, or maybe the wind."

He shrugs. "Is it the cold or the wind? Who can say? If you get it wrong, you'll be fighting with a handicap."

I point at him. "It's the cold! You freeze-dry your target's skin until there's no moisture, then you wait for their natural movements to split it apart on their own!" The finger I use to point gets a fresh cut on the top.

Feather Flight's eyebrows raise twice and he smiles. "Wow, that's a good one. I like that, very creative. I guess you'd better stay out of the cold then, you don't want to catch your death out here."

"I'm just gonna shoot 'em," Clyde whispers.

"You know the relic won't let you. It craves a satisfying death."

Clyde's gun is quick-drawn, the spark of his flash lighting up the street in yellow for a brief moment. The bullet simply pings near Feather Flight and gets diverted straight into a parked car's door.

"If only it were that easy," Feather Flight mocks.

"I told you so," I tell Clyde.

"Okay…rush him!"

We sprint for him, our boots crashing into the pavement like we're determined to stomp a pothole into it. A fresh, and much larger cut, opens up on my stomach. My jacket has a big slit like a sword was scraped across it. Can the cold really do damage this specific to clothing? Maybe it's the way I'm bending?

Clyde's shoulder erupts in a geyser of blood as the fluffy cotton in his jacket mixes with it. It's enough to make him stop running, and soon after, my shoulder does the same.

"Brr, it's starting to feel like the next Ice Age out here. A warm cup of coffee sounds perfect," Feather Flight teases. "Come on and try to touch me. If you can do that, we can all go home and cuddle under a blanket."

I push Clyde along to hide behind a car with me. "This is impossible, Clyde, it's too cold out here. He's got an infinite amount of resources. What gadgets do you got?"

"None, everything we packed is at the hotel. You?"

"I've got this pinwheel some guy gave me at the bar."

"A pinwheel?"

I shrug. "I dunno." I hold it up above our hiding spot and watch it twirl in the wind. I bring it back down when all the pegs are cut in half. "Yikes. Well, that's all I've got. Any plans?"

"Negotiation."

"Great…"

"So," Feather Flight shouts from his position, "the legendary Afterburners are going to hide behind a car for the rest of the fight? I'm just one guy, there are two of you. That doesn't seem fair to me, but I'll be a good sport about it."

I hesitantly poke my head out from the car's rear. "So, Feather Flight, that's a cute name. It suits you, your body's build is graceful like a feather's glide."

"I'm wearing a big jacket, how can you tell?"

I see I'm off to a bad start. I come out a little more and purposefully try to show my tail from behind. "Before you cut this pretty face up into ribbons, don't you want to get a closer, more personal look?" Come on, stupid pheromones, get under his nose already! I think the wind is too strong, it doesn't seem to have an effect on him.

"You're doing that thing you do. Something about your scent. It doesn't matter, all I can smell on you is the relic. I'm sorry, but those tricks aren't touching my nostrils."

Clyde pulls me back down. "What's he talking about? How many smells are on you right now?"

I come back out, still determined to bargain. "You know, Kay-Oh and Clockwork didn't have a merciful end. We're willing to bring you in without a scratch, but if you keep this up, it won't be an option."

"Kay-Oh was blinded by greed, and Clockwork was too stupid to use hers properly. Alternative Punch and Playback are both impressive powers in the right hands, they were not the right people to use them. Me, I can't lose, not with Den of Lions by my side. So I don't think I'll be using my surrender card just yet."

A stinging in my ear makes me throw myself back down next to Clyde. He picks something off of the street and holds it between his fingers. It looks like a lump of meat with a familiar color to it. My ear starts to feel wet, warm blood dripping down the side of my head.

"Is that…?"

"I'm sorry, Troy, he lopped the tip of your ear off."

My hand reaches for the pain, and the shape of my ear is missing the pointed tip. Dr. Nivans better make an exact replica, because my ears are way too cute to be mutilated like this. "Ow! Fuck! Fuck you, Feather Flight, you've got a dumbass name!"

"Is this frostbite? It doesn't look like it."

"Ow…maybe his power isn't the cold at all."

"Yeah, I don't think our skin is splitting open due to dryness. I think it's the wind."

"The wind? You mean that thing that's all around us at all times. Great, now this'll be even easier."

"If it's not the cold killing us, we can stop worrying about the temperature. We need to block the wind somehow."

"We're outside."

"Shh…I'm going to do something real quick."

Clyde carefully creeps around the side of the car and tries to break in. The alarm goes off, flashing its lights and honking its horn. Clyde quickly throws open the door and unlocks the rest of it, letting me slide into the backseat. He closes all the doors and sits in the driver's seat. I crawl to the front, Feather Flight is watching us with his hands in his pockets.

"No wind in here, right?" Clyde asks himself.

"There's still air. Do you think he can use that too?"

A knock on my window makes me jump in the seat. Feather Flight knocks with his knuckles as he leans down to leer at us. "I see you've changed your thinking. What have you learned?"

I settle my nerves and stare back. "It's not the cold that's been cutting us this whole time, was it? It's the wind."

"Good job, detective. Den of Lions is a wind power, not a cold power."

"How are you doing it? Are you making your own wind? Are there invisible razors in each gust? Is Den of Lions actually just invisible lions scratching us?"

"All good guesses, I really like your train of thought. Anyway, are you two going to stay in that car that isn't yours, or can we finish our fight with some dignity?"

Clyde rips out something from the steering wheel's access panel, making the lights and horn stop. "You can't get us in here if there's no wind. I doubt you're making your own wind, I think you wait for a breeze then you hide Den of Lions in it, waiting for the breeze to hit us."

Feather Flight backs away and puts his hands back in his pockets. "A car? A car is your weapon of choice now? Do you really think Den of Lions can't rip through that? I guess we're about to find out.