ACL: 25. BIRD BIRD BIRD IS THE WORD (Patreon)

Chapter 25: BIRD BIRD BIRD IS THE WORD

Brockton Bay, NH, USA
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Type: Flying

I had a lot to think about as I flew back to the Egg House as a murkrow. There were so many things happening at once, demands on my time that couldn’t be ignored. I couldn’t recall ever feeling this way, even in my old life.

Back then, crises were bigger, often continental or even universal in scope, but there was only ever one “villain” who was the mastermind with a clear-cut goal I understood. Some tried multi-pronged attacks to get their objectives, but I had reliable allies in the League. The Champions and Elite Four members could be trusted, for the most part, to more than hold their own.

Now, a lot was happening all at once and I felt as though I couldn’t truly trust the Protectorate. Armsmaster demanded respect without ever cleaning his own house. New Wave was limited in their scope, even when they did come out of their semi-retirement.

The way I saw it, there were two villainous groups in this city currently demanding my time. The Empire would either fracture under Kaiser’s three lieutenants or organize a breakout to free the gang leader. The ABB was looking to recruit Bakuda, if Lung hadn’t already reached out to her. Lung had been quiet so far, content to wait as I progressively made the Graveyard, his turf, more valuable, but I knew that couldn’t last.

Then there were the two threats from out of the city: the Travelers and the Heartbroken. The Travelers would come to this city, looking for a cure for their friend, Noelle. They had my sympathy, truth be told. They’d done bad things, but I could respect friends who were willing to go so far for one of their own.

The Heartbroken were a different story: I’d lost all mercy for Coil the moment he went after a little girl. If Heartbreaker’s sons went after Elle, they’d find out just how dangerous some pokemon could be.

It wasn’t as though these four were the only demands on my time either. I wanted to follow up with Amy to see how she felt about the oran berry I gave her. I wanted to continue to look after Emily. Lisa and Sabah were also under my protection and needed to be seen to. And that was on top of the orphanage, vet clinic, and school.

I alighted onto a street lamp and wondered when my life had gotten so busy. For most of my life, damn near nothing happened. Sure, capes existed, but mostly in the background. I’d managed to avoid the drama. And then, the moment I got powers, it seemed I’d somehow been thrust into the center of it all. I just wanted to make stupid jokes and have fun with my powers, damn it.

Question was, what did I want to do now? There was too much. I’d have to prioritize. Maybe, maybe I was thinking about this all wrong. Was there a way to combine some of these tasks for a less stressful schedule?

As things stood, my first priority was the Empire. They were the ones that seemed most pressing. I unfortunately didn’t know when the transport was, but seeing how Kaiser was captured last Wednesday, I could only assume they’d start moving soon-ish, probably within the week.

I wanted to be on this. The Protectorate heroes were too far out-numbered to secure both the city and the transport. Hell, unless they kept him sedated somehow, there was a chance Kaiser could break out on his own thanks to his power over metal. Hopefully, they’d be reasonable about allowing my involvement. If not, I might have to keep track of the convoy from afar.

X

After school, I made a quick detour to my base and grabbed my armor. I’d given it some thought: Of all the heroes I”d met so far, Miss Militia seemed to respect me most. Or if nothing else, she was the least patronizing. I assumed I’d have the best chance of getting the date of the prisoner transport from her.

Thankfully, finding her was easy. She was a hero, which in this world meant she intentionally went out of her way to be seen, something about reassuring the populace that their protectors were alert.

I cruised in the air with the sun on my back. My massive, fourteen feet wingspan caught the breeze with ease, ferrying me ever higher on the updraft. Here, so close to the sea, the air changed and roiled as if the sky had a tide of its own, making it easy for a bird to take to the skies.

As a braviary, the “valiant pokemon,” I couldn’t help but delight in the sheer FREEDOM of it all. Pidgeot governed Indigo’s skies, but the skies of Unova belonged to the braviary. I was the symbol of the Unova League. My likeness was pinned to the breast of every ranger. My feathers were used to denote the prestige of chiefs of yore. And if my new home happened to have a suspiciously similar national animal, well, that was just dandy, wasn’t it?

I let out a piercing screech that sounded throughout the city. The press of the pokemon’s psyche weighed on my mind and I embraced it wholly. It valued freedom and friendship. It was the kind of pokemon that, once upon a time, I might have welcomed onto my team.

I spotted Miss Militia driving around on her motorcycle. As a braviary, every detail was clear as crystal to me, from her wavy, brown hair to the slightest pimple on the edge of her hairline. She wore her typical green fatigues and an American flag bandana. A green police paton was sheathed at her hip, the go-to shape her power took when she was relaxed.

She was driving slowly, mostly to wave at passerby and deter the casual criminal. When she heard my screech, she immediately froze and came to a stop. She brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun as she gazed up to see what had made the noise.

Then she saw the bright, red bald eagle and let out a defeated sigh before muttering something into the mic attached to her lapel.

I had the sneaking suspicion she recognized me.

I floated down and bent my wing in a cheery salute. “Miss Militia! Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“Menagerie, I presume?” she asked, thoroughly unimpressed by my show of patriotism. “You’re looking very… patriotic today…”

“And you too, ma’am,” I said, snapping off another salute. I took a deep breath. “Smell that? That’s the smell of FREEDOM in the air.”

“Of course. And what is this form called?”

“Braviary, but it also answers to FREEBIRD.”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why me… And how can I help you today, Menagerie? Did you want to join me on my patrol?”

“I’d be delighted. Let’s make Brockton great again, Miss Militia!”

“... Sure…”

She moved to start her bike again, but I paused. “You know, it strikes me…”

“Yes?”

“You could do a lot more patrolling from the air…”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You mean, you’ve never wanted to ride a giant bald eagle through the sky while sniping down baddies with a fuck-massive rifle?”

“No, no I have not,” she said firmly. But I wasn’t fooled. The way she loosened her grip over the bike’s handles, her shifty eyes. I was a braviary. I saw all.

“Liar. Embrace your inner patriot, Miss Militia,” I tempted her. “You can be the most American heroine today.”

She was about to turn me down again, when she frowned and looked away. She began to say something into the mic but my hearing wasn’t sharp enough to discern the following conversation. I could guess though.

She looked back at me with subdued excitement. “You know what? I suppose I could cover more ground this way.”

“Yes! Hop on, Miss Militia! Together, we shall bring down the hammer of Uncle Sam upon these villainous villains!”

“‘Villainous villains?’ Really?”

“Hey, banter is hard, alright?”

“That it is,” she said with a chuckle. “Are you sure you can hold my weight? And if my weapon shifts, it might throw you off.”

I laughed at that. “Don’t worry. I can easily carry off a car with no trouble. I won’t even notice you.”

“Okay…”

She mounted me and, with a final screech, I climbed into the air. It was unfortunate that I had no glider. I briefly considered having her transform her weapon into a long rifle I could hold between my claws in lieu of a pole, but she’d probably fall off. I’d just have to do with having her on my back.

X

The patrol went well, or as well as could be. Now that we were in the air, we could cover the majority of the city with ease. As we climbed, Miss Militia quickly lost what nervousness over heights and began to really relax.

“So did you take this form just to make America jokes?” she asked.

“Of course. Say, what are we looking for?” I said with a laugh. “I don’t actually patrol often so I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be doing.”

“You patrolled with the Wards if I recall. Aegis and Vista?”

“Yeah, I did. They’re great.”

“They are,” she said, a hint of motherly pride in her voice. “Being a part of the Protectorate isn’t all that different. The only distinction is that I am given more authority to pursue or make decisions as the need arises in the field.”

“And you don’t have to avoid villains if you don’t want to.”

“That’s for their safety.”

“I know, I know. I’m not knocking it, but I think I made the right decision in remaining independe-Oh!”

“Do you see something?”

“Yeah, a robbery at Fairbanks and 23rd street.”

I felt her center of gravity shift. The baton at her hip transformed, adding mass. I grabbed hold of the wind currents to steady us both and felt her lean forward to peer down with the scope of a rifle. “You’re right. Let’s get down there.”

“Yes, ma’am. Hang tight!” I said. I tucked in my wings with a chirping laugh.

Then, as we approached the three robbers, I flexed my wings outward and felt the delicious strain of my shoulder muscles as they brought us to a stop.

The wind from our arrival was immense. The sudden gale knocked the robbers on their asses, sending them rolling like the tumbleweeds of the Great American West.

I couldn’t help myself. With a screeching laugh, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “UNCLE SAM! GIVE US YOUR OIL!”

“Holy fuck!” one of them cried, throwing his weapon, a pathetic peashooter that probably wouldn’t even break my feather, to the ground.

“Shit! It’s Menagerie!”

“And Militia!”

“AND FREEDOM!” I continued to shout at the top of my lungs.

On my back, I could hear my patrol partner let out a defeated sigh. She muttered something about how I should never meet the mouse, whoever that was. Then there was a flash of green as her rifle turned into something a bit more kid-friendly. A tranquilizer dart shot out, sending all three men to sleep.

That was largely how our patrol went. I spotted crime, dive-bombed the scene like the divine messenger of FREEDOM I was, and let Miss Militia clean house. I’d occasionally have to toss out a brief Gust to keep people from running or taking hostages, but most were wise enough to surrender.

We’d wait around for a minute until she could be assured of the cops’ arrival before flying off again. It also let me switch back and forth, refreshing my timer as necessary.

Then, almost nearing sunset, I saw something with my eagle eyes. It was an armored figure, jumping from place to place with an athleticism most couldn’t match. Most eye-catching of all, she wore a helmet with big, round mouse ears.

“Do you see something?” I heard Miss Militia say above me. I realized then that I’d stopped cruising altogether.

“Yeah, a mouse.”

“What?”

“A mouse. There’s a woman with a mouse-themed costume down there. She doesn’t seem to be committing any crimes though,” I told her.

“Oh no…”

“What? Is this trouble?”

“Not… Not strictly speaking…”

“This sounds like trouble. I’ll take us down.”

“What? No! We don’t nee-”

Whatever she was going to say was lost as the air pressure ramped up with our speedy descent. Now that I thought about it, I did recognize her; she was Mouse Protector, a famous independent heroine in the New England area best known for campy jokes and horrible mouse puns.

In other words, one of the few heroes in this world who didn’t take themselves too seriously. Her humor wasn’t always well-received, but she seemed fairly competent and she had a decent following online, enough that even I’d hear about her on occasion.

Claws, out, I descended, screeching at the top of my lungs. “GIVE ME YOUR OIL! AMERICA! CHEESE! CAWW!!!”

“Squeak!” she yelped. She literally said the word “squeak” before teleporting away.

On my back, Miss Militia said some words that were almost certainly not kid-friendly. I realized now that this was the mouse I was never meant to meet. I didn’t know how exactly, but they clearly knew each other. Really, what were the odds I’d stumble on her?

Then again, given Arceus probably watched my life like a soap opera, surprisingly higher than expected.

Before I could think on it further, the mouse was back, teleporting to the scene with a cheery grin.

“Le gasp!” she cried, one hand over her heart as she pretended to fall in a dainty swoon. “Millie? Riding an eagle? And the most American eagle of all! Be still, my beating heart!”

My partner let out a defeated sigh. “Hello to you too, Mouse Protector.”

“Yes, hello, mouse. I am Miss Militia’s pet bird. Give me your oil and cheese.”

“Gasp! Not my cheese!” she yelled. “You fiend! Enemy of mice! I know now how those banana republics must have felt!”

“You can be lunch or you can bring lunch, choose.”

Miss Militia hopped down and dug her elbow into my side. “That’s enough of that. It’s good to see you again, Mouse.”

The rodent-themed heroine gave her a hug. “It’s been so long, Millie. I gotta say, you’ve somehow managed to get even more patriotic than in our Ward days.”

“It’s a one time thing, I assure you. What brings you here?”

“Why, an old road-ent like me? Adventure of course! The horizon! The mystery of it all!”

“Of course.”

“And now that you mention it, I came to see the newest comic hero around.” She turned to me with a cheeky grin. “I was going to drop by the Rig to ask, but I guess you found me, eh, big guy?”

I shifted back and offered her a friendly handshake. I didn’t see myself as much of a comic, but maybe I should have expected such a thing given all my antics over the past month. “You’re here looking for me?”

“Of course! Mice to meet you! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a hero with a sense of humor?”

“I imagine rather difficult.”

“Exactly! I assure you, Millie was as much of a stick in the mud back when we were in the Wards. Why, she used to get furry-ous when I made too many puns.”

“You were in the Wards?”

“Yup! First inaugural class even! Me, Millie, Chev back in Philadelphia. But don’t think that makes me old, buster!”

“I wasn’t thinking it,” I said. And I wasn’t. Maybe it was the partially obscured faces and their clear athleticism, but I’d have never expected Miss Militia or Mouse Protector to be that old Then again, given the Protectorate was founded in the 80s, and the Wards program came a few years after that, maybe they both triggered young. I knew better than to ask for details. “So, what did you want with me?”

She slung an arm around us both with a happy laugh. “Why, to form the three mousketeers of course! We shall be defenders of cheese! Slayers of pussy!”

I looked at her, then across at Miss Militia. “She knows?”

The vice leader of the Protectorate sighed. “She knows.”

“Okay, so… this is a thing.”

Miss Militia’s eyes screamed at me: I warned you not to take us down here.

She had very expressive eyes.

I knew what she was asking. In her ideal world, we would leave. I’d shift back into a braviary and take off, wishing Mouse Protector here good luck. Miss Militia couldn’t even go anywhere without me at this point; he motorbike had long since been left behind.

And yet…

I’d dealt with the likes of Mouse Protector before. She was a comedian, maybe the kind who didn’t know when to stop. She was the kind of person who considered making a nuisance of herself a form of humor. In a way, she was like a more experienced Clockblocker.

Or, in my old world, like the gallade who fell in love with Titania and thought he could learn jokes to make her laugh. It didn’t work of course, but we were subjected to months of a gallade teleporting into camp first thing in the morning, just so he could recite a love song or poem or limerick about Titania’s “boundless grace” or something.

No, ignoring her wouldn’t work. That was the thing Miss Militia didn’t understand. Ignoring people like Mouse Protector never worked because they’d only double down. There was only one way to deal with the Mouse: Satisfy her.

I’d have to double down myself, dive headfirst into the madness so she could leave satisfied. Mouse Protector, despite her name, was closer to a snorlax than a raticate, a force to be appeased rather than deterred.

“You’re right, Mouse,” I said, sinking Miss Militia’s hopes. “We’re in for a wild night, eh?”

“RIght-o, buddy-ol’-pal!” she cheered. “See, Millie? He can be fun. We can all be fun!”

“Joy…” she drawled. She must have received orders to keep an eye on us because she let out a resigned sigh but didn’t pull away. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

“Plan? You’re always the one with the pla-”

“Great, we’re done her-”

“No! Nonono! I haven’t hung out with you in years! Come on, Millie,” the Mouse whined. “And with Menagerie? This is our chance to make this a ménage à trois!”

“I really hope you don’t know what that word means.”

“I don’t! But it sounds nice, right?”

“Fine… What are we doing? Choose quickly.”

Mouse Protector looked conflicted. “Hmm… I haven’t been here long enough. I only just got in today! I know! Menagerie, you choose.”

I paused at that. I didn’t think I had a say here. I was willing to go with whatever the crazy furry wanted, but seeing how she was giving me the choice… “Shift, honchkrow!”

Suddenly, I was yet another big bird. Smaller than a braviary, and perhaps not as physically powerful, but with a cold, cruel wisdom in its crimson eyes.

I was honchkrow, the “big boss” pokemon best known for leading a murder of murkrow. A honchkrow’s flock could grow to such a degree that they were sometimes called the “summoner of the night.”

Then the pokemon’s personality hit. It was sometimes jokingly called the “bird mafioso,” but there was truth to that. I found a near overwhelming need to gather followers of my own. Not a gang necessarily, but a flock. I wanted to claim territory, to hold dominion over the night sky like few others could. Where the braviary had cherished freedom, the honchkrow desired dominion, authority, and merciless efficiency.

I began to stomp it down, then paused. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing. I’d picked the honchkrow because I thought it’d be funny to pretend to be a mafioso, but perhaps this could be more than

that. I’d once offered Emily the right to be my partner after all. Perhaps I ought to test out how I worked with two experienced heroines?

"This city is too small, see?” I squawked with a guttural laugh. I did my best to talk like a mobster from The Godfather. “The Empire’s getting too big for their britches, capiche? My gut is telling me they're gonna try to break out their boss, see? What's a fella gotta do to help keep the schmucks behind bars? And get some good cannoli."

“What happened to patriotism? Please go back to the patriotism,” Miss Militia said. Mouse was right; she did make for a wonderful straight-man to the joking.

“No way, the birdfather is amazing!” Mouse replied, tugging my “hat” to see how the plume was shaped. “He’s the big cheese, get it?”

“I get it…”

“So what’s this about the Empire?”

“We caught Kaiser the other day,” I said, dropping the act. Business was business. “But Krieg, Hookwolf, and Purity, his three lieutenants, are still around. They’re probably going to break out his prisoner transport.”

“Ooh, that’s great! I mean, not great for you guys, but I’m in! I want to help!”

“I don’t know,” Miss Militia said hesitantly. “You’re not Protectorate anymore, Mouse. Or at all in your case, Menagerie.”

“Yeah, but you guys are always short-staffed. Come on, Millie! You know we can handle ourselves.”

I looked at the mic, then at the earpiece in her ear. Miss Militia seemed like the soldier-y type, the sort who obeyed her superiors. She wasn’t hostile, but she also didn’t let her friendships keep her from following orders. Duke Wikstrom was the same way back when I visited Kalos.

“Alright, well if I wanted to show Mouse Protector around the city, what area would you recommend we visit, and at what approximate time? Totally for innocent sightseeing reasons, you understand?" I said with a wink.

“Hmm… Well, how long are you in the city for, Mouse?”

“Who? Me? I’m thinking I’ll be here for a while,” the indie hero said, shooting me a thumbs up. “I could really use a strapping young man as a guide around the city.”

“Too young for you.”

“Aww…”

“But I hear there are some interesting events around the city on Saturday morning,” Miss Militia said carefully. “If you keep an ear to the ground, I’m sure a pair of heroes can find something to do.”

Mouse Protector grabbed the taller woman in a tight hug. “Thanks, Millie!”

“Please don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t,” I said.

In hindsight, it made sense that the transport was on the weekend. If nothing else, like Mouse said, the Protectorate was dangerously short-staffed. If they wanted the city in one piece, they needed the Wards to pick up their slack during their absence, something that was only possible without school.

It made me snort with laughter. The notion that something so important as a gang leader’s prisoner transport would be scheduled around the school day was both hilarious and pathetic.

Still, I had what I wanted. We stuck around for a little while longer and exchanged contact information while the two heroines signed some autographs and I gave people a ride on braviary. I found myself looking forward to the weekend; crossing this off my to-do list sounded nice.

Author’s Note

Not much to say. I had chat roll a d20 for luck to see how that patrol went and they rolled a nat20. They wanted to introduce a new heroine so I allowed it. Yeah, MP is entirely fanon, but there’s not much about her in canon anyway so I may as well roll with the campy version.