Flight School: Predator

Not Himself

"Amazing."

The vulture's immediate reaction was to frown. "What?"

"You've exceeded our expectations," the headmaster repeated in a similar fashion, as though there was nothing to hide. "We never thought you'd be the perfect watch bird."

All of a sudden, it seized his cage and rattled the creature within—awake. It began as a creeping, a salient itch in his chest whose existence he was aware of and yet, could not contain a single word; an ill, disgusting premonition. His gaze, uncertain, darted from face to face. Stranger to stranger.

"Watch bird?"

A snake slithered past their eyes, glazed and still. Vaughn looked around and all he could see was a world that seemed, all of a sudden, attentive to him. Not himself, but to his use. His sudden, convenient use that would prove essential to their grand, final plan. One that he would, for the first time in his life, have the role of a protagonist to play. Not a tree. Not Person B.

"But of course! In fact, you've been so watchful in your advance that even those on your side were inclined to think differently," Kirill appeared mildly pleased by the way things were going according to his favor. "Now, we know the truth."

What truth?

The vulture found something within that desired company. He never thought Jae-min's presence would've made so much of a difference. It would, now. Or so he figured.

But he wasn't there.

Neither was the phoenix, for some reason.

He was alone.

"For your excellent achievement, you shall receive a hundred credits," the numbers in his academic account spiked. "Perhaps even more if you maintain this advantageous position."

The words that escaped his lips felt, for some reason, scripted and false.

"Is this a joke?"

He couldn't seem to understand or believe the scene that unfolded before his eyes. The conference table warped and discolored before returning to its original shape. They think I'm a spy. How?

"Of course not, dear." His mother was addressing him and that itself was a tremendous feat. Vaughn was beginning to lose his grip on all that was once his own. "The order is applauding you for your achievements. You, having gained the trust and faith of the sparrow and his acquaintances, should be rewarded."

All at once, he registered the true purpose of his having to attend the conference that had never been compulsory for a scavenger like him and the revelation was like being hurled down a deep, dark well. He yelled for escape.

"There must be some mistake," the vulture insisted, like a baby bird flapping its wings without reason. "That sparrow and his acquaintances will never trust me."

"Too humble," Kirill dismissed with a sorry wave of his hand. "That said, you will be assisting the hearts in the upcoming games."

The child was beginning to lose control over his disposition. Everything was falling apart. "Objection, I—"

"Be quiet, Vaughn." His mother's snap was like the pulling of a trigger. He froze, swallowing the rest of his words in a gulp and under her watch, he was a child all over again.

A sickly silence hung like a cloud over the room, dark and imminent. Vaughn was not so inclined to speak ever again and no one at the table was foolish enough to involve themselves in a familial conflict.