Birds Of A Feather

Chapter 1: Rooftops & Tea Time

Being pushed off a building wasn't on my bucket list. Then again, it was early in the morning on a Monday, so I was probably being too optimistic to begin with.

    For a terrifying split-second, I panicked before remembering that I could fly. My black-feathered wings began to thrash, rapidly beating at the air as I fought to stay above the pavement. A moment later, I managed to get back to the rooftop I had been shoved off.

     I glared at the person responsible—my best friend and mercenary partner Sierra Shawn, AKA Ebony Lynx. Her complexion was almost as pale as mine, and her jet-black hair was cropped short in a pixie cut. She was slightly taller than me, and her build was athletic and slender. We were often mistaken for siblings thanks to our similar appearances and fashion sense when I wore my signature trench coat to hide my wings.

    "That was one hell of an overreaction," I snapped at her, my Irish accent coming out thicker than usual.

    "You should know not to take my food, buddy," she replied nonchalantly, sticking her hands into her pockets.

    I sighed. "You have some serious issues."

    "Well, how would you react to your best friend stealing your snacks?" she asked. "I thought you were trustworthy, Ozzy. I feel betrayed."

    I rolled my eyes at her dramatizing. "I'm calling Kellen."

    Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed my trench coat from where it was laying on the roof and pulled it back on, concealing my wings. I slid my phone out from one of the many pockets and dialed my employer's number.

     Kellen Sharpe wasn't just the man who gave me my paycheck. He was like a parental figure to me, since he had taken me in and trained me after my mother left and my father turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism. Working for him was certainly better than the alternative.

    "Hey, Ozzy," Kellen greeted fondly as he picked up on the second ring. "How are you?"

    "My day has been amazing so far," I said sarcastically. "I fell off a roof a couple minutes ago, so that was fun."

    He paused briefly. "I'm sorry, what?"

    "It wasn't on purpose, if that's what you're wondering," I grumbled. "Sierra really needs to learn the meaning of impulse control."

    Kellen sounded confused. "Why did she—?"

    Sierra snatched my phone from my hand and put Kellen on speaker. Her tone was accusatory and more than slightly irritated as she glared at me. "He ate my pretzels."

    I looked at her with a deadpan expression as I took my phone back. "That really doesn't warrant shoving me off a roof, you know."

   "Stop overreacting, chicken liver," Sierra replied, rolling her grayish-blue eyes. "You would've lived. It was only thirty feet."

    Kellen's aggravated tone was like a slap to the face, even though he wasn't talking to me. "There was absolutely no reason for you to do that, Sierra. Your pay will be docked for unnecessary endangerment."

    Sierra grunted in irritation and scowled, but didn't say anything.

    I sighed and said, "Well, I'm fine, so I guess there's really no sense in crying over spilled milk. Can we forget this ever happened and grab some coffee?"

     Sierra nodded. "Sure."

    I smiled. "Thanks. You're paying."

   She rolled her eyes again, and I spoke to Kellen. "When's our next assignment?"

    "Soon," he responded. "Meet me back at the office in three hours."

    I nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Da—boss."

    "My pleasure," he replied. "Enjoy your coffee."

    He ended the call, leaving me alone with Sierra.

    "Were you gonna call him Dad?" She teased me. "Are you collecting father figures for your nest now?"

    I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha. Let's just go already. I need my caffeine fix."

    We got off the rooftop and headed to the nearest cafe, which only had a few patrons inside.

    I ordered black tea, and Sierra got a caramel macchiato. After she paid the barista, we sat down at a table.

     "How's your dad?" Sierra asked me. It was a casual question, and I knew she didn't mean any harm in asking it. Still, the subject of my father was one I didn't like to discuss in public. Even after four years, she persisted in asking about my family.

    "He still can't find a job, but other than that, he's okay," I replied, only half-lying. "What about your aunt?"

    My friend sighed. "She's pissed at me right now."

     "Why is that?" I asked curiously.

    She grinned without a trace of guilt. Remorse wasn't exactly in the job description for mercenaries or crazy cat owners. "I may or may not have adopted a Maine Coon without her permission when she was on a trip in Italy a few weeks ago."

    I laughed a little. "How many cats do you have now? Seems like you're building an army."

     The bell above the door rang as someone came in, cutting off Sierra's answer. It was a slim guy with an angry expression and messy brown hair. A pistol was held in his hand. Apart from black boots, he was dressed entirely in one color; his jacket, gloves, pants, and lower-face mask were all the same shade of gray.

    I rolled my eyes and got up from my seat, stepping towards the gray-clad criminal. He glared at me, pointing the gun in my direction. I didn't stop, instead getting in his face.

    "What the hell are you doing?" the robber snapped. "Get on the ground or I'll shoot!"

     With a mocking chuckle, I said, "Yeah, okay, tough guy. Go ahead, pull the trigger and see what happens."

    He scoffed. "All right, asshole. You—"

     Without hesitating another second, I broke both of his arms in quick succession. He screamed and dropped his gun, and I took the opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him.

    The barista contacted the authorities, and by the time the police arrived, Sierra and I were long gone.

    "Why didn't you try to help?" I asked.

    "You had it covered," she answered. "Besides, you're the one wearing the bulletproof coat, not me."

     "Fair point," I conceded. "Still, some backup would've been nice."

     Sierra nodded. "Okay, Pigeon Boy. I'll remember that next time you decide to antagonize someone with a gun."

    I facepalmed. "How many times do I have to tell you—?"

    "I know you prefer to be called a raven," she interrupted. "I just like teasing you."

    I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

    Her cell phone buzzed in her hand, and my friend sighed after glancing at the screen. "I have to get home. See you in a while."

    She took off, and I headed towards my own house, singing a sad song under my breath.

    I knew without a doubt that my day was going to be terrible, and the morning had just started.