The Safe House

“The trial begins,” Joseph Adams yelled, pointing to the sky with his speckled cane.

“I am a falcon,” I shouted, poising to launch.

“Today will be the day the hunter becomes the hunted, Shurikit,” Joseph told me, clapping my shoulder with his free hand. “From now on, your training will be put to the test.”

“I can take ‘em,” I replied.

“You’re certain?” His glasses glinted.

“Come on, no riddles today,” I protested. “Let’s just do this!”

“Of course, my girl,” he nodded.

A minute later, I was in the air, scanning the skies for any potential hostiles. After a while, though, I realized nothing was on the horizon. Was this part of the test, somehow? Or maybe Joseph just forgot.

I began coasting on a warm afternoon breeze, my attention to my surroundings beginning to wane. For the record, lapses like this are rare. But since I was still worn out from yesterday’s cold resistance training session, I figured I could afford to do a little relaxing. After all, my senses would alert me if something were coming…

A moment later, I realized there was a problem – for some reason, I could not flap. Lack of flapping means lack of lift, as any self-respecting flier knows. And… lack of lift meant plummeting downwards. And plummeting downwards meant… I had a date with the dirt. At terminal velocity.

Once I finished analyzing these matters at a pace more sluggish than I’m used to, I managed to draw a conclusion: This is probably bad. Hmm.

Now, we aeronauts are not easily panicked. It’s just not in us to freak out over a life-or-death scenario. But I had to admit; this was new even for me.

So now, I had twelve thousand feet to figure out what to do. I quickly ran through the options in my head…

• Mumble incoherently as I plummet to my death.

• Flap my arms instead of my wings.

• Stare stupidly at the ground as I plummet to my death.

• Count the number of stars bouncing around in my head.

After reviewing these options, I realized that these were extremely impractical choices. But before I could embarrass myself further by actually doing them, something swooped over and caught me.

My tunnel vision had not cleared yet, so all I saw was a solid white thing. “Heh! Tagged you good, didn’t he,” it said. “Told you he’d exploit your inattentiveness.”

“Hmmh? Travis, that you?” I tried to focus on him, but ended up seeing more stars. “Get it off me.”

As he plopped me down in front of the safe house, I made another attempt to regain my bearings. Soon I could make out Travis’s white helmet framing his red eyes and pale-skinned face.

After examining the beacon he’d removed from my shoulder, he bopped me in the face with it.

“Ow! No need to rub it in, you prick,” I grunted. “It was a lapse. A lapse! You tell the others that.”

“Sure, sure,” Travis snickered, sliding the doors open.

None of us knew what the intent was behind our creation. I knew it had something to do with fighting, though. We’d been training practically since we could walk, after all…

“Are you daydreaming again? I heard something,” Travis said.

“No. Shut up.” I quickly turned around to see another companion of ours in the distance, closing in very quickly.

“Guys, drone fighters on the attack,” Bernicia yelled the moment we came into earshot, her black wings defensively covering her. “Blake’s coming too. Any of you guys have a rifle?”

“Uhm, no. Where’s the drone?” I asked.

Boosh! A puff of dust puffed up inches away from Bernicia’s foot. Then another bolt bounced off of Bernicia’s wings with a loud SPANG.

“Never mind.” The three of us ran inside as another bolt struck the wall. As Bernicia was shutting the door, two more bolts flew in and exploded against the entryway’s floor. Then she turned to face us – straight black hair, clever red eyes, a unibrow, and freckles. “Surprise training again, I guess,” she muttered. “Can’t catch a break, huh?”

“You said Blake was coming, right?” I looked out of a window. “Does he have a rifle?”

“Yeah. Hey, didn’t you have that cold resistance thing yesterday? Where’s the gun you used for that?” Bernicia asked.

“It was constitution training. No weapons involved,” I replied. “I wonder if the armory is unlocked.”

“I just noticed,” Travis realized, “These aren’t pecking rounds. What’s up with that?”

The door slid open, and Blake slipped in, quickly closing it behind him. “Hey, fellas,” he grinned. “Nothing like a spot of dodging crossfire to start the day, eh?” His red eyes stood out more than usual against his chocolate-brown skin and curly black hair. Or maybe it was just because he was currently covered in dust.

Bernicia scrunched her unibrow. “Live ammo, unscheduled combat sessions, and not a single warning? What’s up with this?”

“We got through it well enough, didn’t we?” Blake retracted his yellowish wings. “Almost like we were built for this kind of thing.”

“Whatever, smartcheek,” I retorted, then remembered something. “Oh! Uhm, actually… you know, I just got the wildest insight.”

“Hm?” All of the aeronauts gave me an expectant look.

“So earlier today, when Joseph sent me out, he mentioned something like… the hunter becoming the hunted,” I told them, doing my best to sound nonchalant. “Haha, weird coincidence, right?”

“Hunted hunters die, Shurikit,” Bernicia indignantly replied. “Are you saying they’re out to kill us?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I shrugged. “Hey, Blake. Are those drones still out there?”

“Nope, shot ‘em all down,” Blake said. “Though I did see a van coming this way as well. The usual unmarked sort.”

“Think it’ll be more hunters?”

“Ideally, it’ll be Joseph with more orders for us,” Travis mused, “but I agree. It’s totally more hunters.”

I snuck another glance out the window. “Guys, the vehicle’s—”

CRASH! An armored hand smashed through the bulletproof glass and jabbed something into my neck.

“Shurikit! Get back,” Blake yelled, raising his rifle.

“Ngh! What… the…” My vision began to darken as I slumped down. Soon all I could feel was the stinging sensation of broken glass in my skin… then my vision quickly went all blobby until I couldn’t see anything… or feel anything…