Word for Love

Chapter 2 - This Isnt KFC!

Hawks took Mirko by the arm, like a child with his mom, running inside the candy store that was just KFC.

The moment he bursted through the door—purple.

What the fuck.

He let go of Mirko out of confusion, but it's all it took for him to tumble into the portal.

His ass hit solid concrete, it was hard. He gasped out, feeling a sense of nausea take over as he had been flung out the other end of a swirling purple mist piss portal.

Before Hawks realized he was on his back, looking up at a crackled concrete ceiling, the only sounds in the room were his groans of discomfort. The man sat up to un-pinch him wings from the ground. The moment fresh hair hit them a tingle shot up his spine and he looked around wildly.

There were at least six people in the shadows behind him, he could almost feel their excited heart beats reverberating through the air through his feathers.

He spun around to face them, forcing himself to stand, backing against the far wall. He made a reach for one of his longer feathers, sharpening it before even grasping it between his fingers.

But that's when a flue flame crackled into existence, finally illuminating his on lookers.

The league of villains. Of-fucking-course.

He felt his body slump as he remembered the name of his mission. He didn't even get the fucking debrief. What the fuck was he here for? Should be fight his way out?

"Quit yer thinkin, it's annoyin." The one with the flames spat.

"I..I wasn't thinking anything."

"Uhhuh? Yeah right." This time a gravely voice hissed, through the monochromatic hue of the fire Hawks could see the nails digging into skin as he scratched his neck.

"Really. The most I was thinking was 'This isn't KFC'! Haha...ha.." his joke brought quiet, though before long it was broken by the manic giggles of a teenage girl.

"I like him! I like him! Shiggy why do we have to kill him at the end of this~?" Her casual whine made Hawk's blood run cold.

"Shut the fuck up Himiko." The one covered in hands glared at her. She probably wasn't supposed to openly admit that in front of him.

Hawks gripped the sharpened feather behind his back as a precaution but made no moves with it yet, just keeping the wall to his back.

"...Compress." The hand guy made a, what do you know, hand movement. A rather regal looking figure in a mask hat and suit stepped out in front of him. In between his fingers was a shiny pearl.

Hawks crouched slightly, alarms ringing in his head to fight. Survival screamed in negligence. His fears pounded around in his skull, begging to not be ignored. He willed his body to freeze in place, so tense that the hero may have popped a blood vessel.

The villain facing him (Compress maybe?) danced this pearl between fingers, duplicating it from thin air. Hawks couldn't afford to be impressed though as not a moment later one was thrown at him. He felt his body lunge to the right at the last second without his consent, but it was too late.

He felt his body compact inwards on itself, muscles twisting, head becoming so pressurized he though he'd die. Hawks felt his arms and wings bend unnaturally, ripping a scream from his throat.

And a second later he was slammed against the ground with the sound of a distant shatter. Maybe he was still screaming, maybe he wasn't.

The feeling surrounded him again, this time twisting more, it was god awful painful. He heard his bones crunch as he was apprehended into a vice grip prison again. He felt the sharpened feathers slice at his legs without him being able to control his body.