'I need to get out of here.' Just as he was about to leave the bird, another shot rang out.
When he looked, he saw a man repeatedly firing at crows.
'Is he insane?'
That was the look of a person with a personal vendetta against birds.
His teammates quickly restrained him from rampaging, and from their reactions, it seemed this wasn't the first time it had happened.
'I can't believe I became collateral damage because of a bird phobia.'
Francis stored the shooter's face into memory.
His ears were slightly larger than normal, angled like a mouse's, and his short black hair stuck up in a way that made him seem alert and twitchy
'I'll remember you, bird killer.'
This debt would be repaid, with interest, in the future.
'First, I need to calm down. I've got a new ability that lets me control my muscles—if I focus enough, regeneration should be possible.'
Instead of exiting the raven's body completely, he started stitching the wound, replacing the missing organs with his own.
He could feel the muscle fibers slowly knitting back together, bone fragments regenerating.
'Too slow. Way too slow.'
If that had been a real pursuit instead of some trigger-happy operative, he would be dead by now.
Or worse—captured and dissected in some lab
The wing finally sealed completely, black feathers ruffling as he tested the joint. Perfect mobility restored.
'Finding another host would be faster. My regenerative ability is still too weak right now'
He checked his energy level—it was 2/10. That meant he was close to shutting down again.
Good thing, his energy only dropped when he use skills. He just had to be careful.
VROOOOM!
The cleanup crew was finishing up, loading the beast's remains onto specialized trucks.
They sprayed a disinfectant over the corpse to make sure it carried no viruses.
'I wonder where they're taking the monster,' he mused inwardly.
Then an idea struck him.
He planned to follow the beast's attack, hoping to profit from the collateral damage—and what better place to wait than the Defense Force?
From there, he could easily tail them whenever they deployed a team.
There would be some risk, but as long as caution was maintained and he didn't get too close, he would be safe.
Francis stretched his wings, catching the wind as he trailed behind the truck.
Keeping his distance, he tracked the lead truck's taillights.
Thirty minutes later, they reached a fortified section. Massive concrete barriers stood, crowned with razor wire that gleamed under powerful floodlights.
Guard towers stood at regular intervals, and the guards wore black uniforms with "Defense Force" printed in white lettering.
Looking at how well equipped they were, it was clear the policeman from before wasn't lying when he said more than half of their taxes went here.
Francis flew left, landing on a telephone pole three blocks away. Out of the searchlights, yet still able to see the important areas.
The convoy approached towering metal gates that dwarfed the trucks below. Steel reinforced, hydraulic-powered—built to even withstand bombs.
With a low groan, the gates opened.
His talons tightened around the pole as the trucks disappeared inside.
But the show wasn't over.
Another convoy approached—this one larger. The lead truck was standard military issue, but the second vehicle made his feathers bristle.
An 18-wheeler hauled what looked like a fortified freight container—except containers didn't undulate.
The steel cage shuddered with each impact from whatever thrashed inside.
Through the gaps in the reinforced slats, he caught a glimpse of scales—black and silver, each one the size of a dinner plate.
The thing inside had to be at least thirty feet long, maybe more.
Even in its weakened, wounded state, it still had enough power to shake the ground. One could only guess how tough it had been before.
'Category 4? Higher?' he wondered.
It slammed against its prison again. The entire truck rocked sideways before the driver corrected course.
"Open the gate!" One of the guard ordered.
The hydraulics hissed, and the convoy vanished behind the walls.
'Now, I wait.'
For now, he decided to do nothing and stay still. His energy was recovering slowly, so all the waiting wasn't wasted.
Soon, even he felt the need to shut his eyes. It wasn't his body failing him, but his mentality—or more precisely, his human mind—craving rest.
Francis's eyes snapped open, and what greeted him was a view he knew well.
Dawn cast over the skyline, draping the massive walls in shades of orange and gold. One by one, the searchlights clicked off, conceding their vigil to the rising sun.
He remembered his past life, taking his children for early morning jogs. They complained the whole way but were all smiles when the sun rose.
'I miss them.'
No matter how much he killed or how monstrous he became, he always felt lonely when their faces flashed through his mind.
In his old world, he was a vigilante; here, a monster. But in his heart, he was just a father willing to do anything for his children.
Just as these thoughts ran through him, his attention turned to the streets. The neighborhood stirred to life.
Earbuds in and pace steady, a woman jogger passed by, completely unbothered by the tall walls looming behind her.
A bakery opened its doors, releasing the smell of fresh bread into the street. Newspaper vendor shouted the morning headlines, and a cyclist weaved through traffic, ringing his bell at pedestrians.
Watching them carry on with their lives showed how this world had adapted to the presence of monsters.
It also showed their confidence in the Defense Force to maintain law and order. He had to assume that what he saw before was just the tip of the iceberg.
'Movements.'
Bit by bit, the gates cracked open again, this time releasing a stream of vehicles .
Twenty armored trucks, each mounted with advance looking Gatling gun, rolled onto the street. Behind them followed a line of state-of-the-art ambulances.
Sirens wailed. Red and blue lights strobed across building facades as the convoy accelerated, forcing civilian traffic to give way.
'Finally,'
He launched himself from the pole, wings catching the morning updraft. The convoy was already three blocks ahead, weaving through intersections.