A Taste For Chicken

Firsts

Hawks sat slouched in his office chair with his feet out of his boots and propped up. The flickering light of the lamp cast a soft glow over the piles of paperwork that littered his desk. His wings drooped onto the floor, a physical manifestation of his boredom and frustration. It had been a week since his intense "encounter" with Halcyon, and the tension had only grown worse for him. They hadn't discussed that night, nor had they talked much at all.

The silence between them gnawed at him. Halcyon had been unusually short with him, her usual teasing replaced by a cool, distant demeanor. It frustrated him to no end. He missed the banter, the way she used to get under his skin with her cheeky remarks and rile him up until they were fighting. Now, her indifference felt like a slap in the face, and it made him even more frustrated that he cared so much.

Hawks sighed, running a hand through his long hair. He glanced at the paperwork in front of him, reports and mission updates blurring together in a tedious mess. His mind kept drifting back to Halcyon, replaying their encounter over and over. Her lips, her body, her hands—everything about her haunted his thoughts, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted forward between them and then wildly retreated.

With a groan, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes wandering to the office door. Maybe he should go find her, instigate something stupid to break the ice. The thought of ruffling her feathers, of seeing that familiar spark in her eyes, was tempting. He needed to do something to shake off this maddening frustration.

Just as he was about to stand, his phone buzzed on the desk. The screen lit up with the caller ID: HPSC. The Hero Public Safety Commission. Hawks frowned, his frustration momentarily replaced by curiosity. He grabbed the phone and answered.

"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Hawks," the voice on the other end was firm and authoritative. "Madame President would like to speak with you. Can you come to the headquarters at your earliest convenience?"

Hawks' heart sank. He knew better than to ask questions over the phone. "I'll be there," he replied, his tone now serious.

He hung up and stared at the phone for a moment, the weight of the call settling in. Whatever the HPSC wanted, it was serious. His thoughts of Halcyon were pushed to the back of his mind as he stood, grabbing his jacket and slipped his feet into his boots. He cast one last glance at the piles of paperwork, then headed for the door, his mind already shifting to the task at hand.

Before long he was standing in front of Madame President's desk, his arms behind his back and hands clasped together. He stood still, waiting for her to finish her phone call before she looked up at him.

"Hawks," she said, "First, I must congratulate you on your stellar performance. In just six months your approval rating has grown exponentially. Your ranking is already in the top ten and because of your exemplary performance and the example you set, other pro heroes have begun to shape up in areas they lacked in."

Hawks nodded along, accepting his praise. He had done really well, that was for sure, but it's not like he really cared about being in the top ten. Then again, it had made his life at Nest a lot easier since so many heroes had come to work there. He certainly wasn't above taking advantage of that.

"In addition, your handling of the situation with the vigilante Halcyon was excellent. Although," she steepled her hands in front of her mouth before continuing, "I have doubts about her ability to become a professional hero once her sentence has been served."

Hawks' wings twitched a little, but he remained still. Madame President's pause after speaking was his cue to answer, but he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to say.