Inked Wings (16+)

TWENTY ONE - Veins

/ Angel's POV /

'Oh, I sent him with Birdie,' Dad tells me where the kid is and – seriously, Dad?

I'm just back from crossfire and this is the first news I run into. You'd think things are going mundanely on this ship. It is basically a house, more than a "base'. I close my mouth, being at a loss of words. This sudden, annoying news ruins my good mood in an instant.

'Why did you?' I inquire of Dad, trying to hide my discontent.

'He hasn't been outside in a while, the boy needs fresh air, diverse activities -' He's presenting me with a list, counting his fingers.

I mirror his body language, lowering my own fingers, one after the other. 'He's a hunted felon, he's a helpless kid, he's nearly incompetent in combat.'

'Near incompetent in combat?'

'He hits and kicks pretty hard,' I state. 'No coordination whatsoever.'

'Are you talking from experience?' Dad smiles.

I huff. 'You made a bad call with the right intentions.'

'I could say the same to you. I've heard you and Noel fought?'

I scoff. 'It was merely a disagreement.'

'Why are you avoiding him if that is all it was – a mere disagreement?' He crosses his arms.

'That's not what we're talking about now – send me the exact coordinates the pod dropped them off. I'll replace the kid and search in his place.'

Dad shakes his head. 'Tell me why you reject the idea of Noel being part of the family.'

'He isn't family!'

'By now, he pretty much -'

I snap. 'He can't be!! Understand?!'

Dad's expression softens. 'Oh, dear...you don't have to be afraid. We're here for you. For you and Noel. He's safe with us.'

'None of you are safe with me...' Under my breath, I am muttering.

'What was that?'

I shrug, shaking my wings. 'Make sure they're back on time. I'll deal with this later.'

I hate questioning my resolve.

I hate second thoughts, I hate second guesses, I hate insecurity, I hate this new anxiety.

It's unlike me.

19:17

I've been preoccupied with adjusting new designs. These bombshells aren't practical enough. I should stick to my original design. It's harder and harder to find scraps for these kinds of things. You'd think with the heat MEA'S under they would've wiped more planets and left behind what I need. Or it is just that my old designs are based on disappearing material. Past its time...The engine room isn't the best workplace for handmade explosives but I digress. We have no other space as isolating as this, loud people habiting this ship.

My materials clatter, scattered on the ground. I pile them into a vid pouch. Enough space. I think my distraction has lasted long enough. Bridie and the kid should be back by now.

That is, if my math is correct. It always is.

I exit the engine, wandering the halls. My nose sniffs, pretending to be a Canine. Nah, I just feel warmth in the air. Voices draw me in. Are the kids gossiping again? I

It's coming from the Centre Room. I walk past the Centre room, into the hall that leads to the Control Panel and – there he is. The kid's about to fall if he keeps that up. Weird position.