The Labyrinth

Chapter 7: Carrot and Stick. One to Feed With, One to Beat With

Dick had no idea how much time had passed, it could have been a day, it could have been thirty seconds. From the others he knew the food hadn't come yet, either it really had been thirty seconds or the evil lab guy was lying about how soon the food would come out. Dick couldn't help the clench in his empty stomach that growled at him like it was his fault for being so empty.

He currently had his eyes open, swallowing the bile threatening his throat and breathing raggedly through clenched teeth. Not only was he determined to not throw up with his weird vision, he wanted to gain better control over his wings. Because in any case he wanted to have control over them rather than not. Flying could be an escape route someday and he'd rather be prepared. Of course flying to escape would be a dead give away for his captors to figure out, he really didn't want his wings chained up. That sounded like all sorts of uncomfortable.

"Nice, maybe scoot to the middle of the cage so you have more room." Wally said beside him. He'd been 'coaching' for the past few minutes, even though Wally had no clue what Dick was seeing or feeling and his advice was sometimes not the best. It was his words of encouragement that were what was getting Dick this far so he had little to complain about.

The ten year old dragged himself to the middle of his cage, focusing too much on his shaking wings and swimming vision to use his limbs properly. He made sure he didn't go too near the dried pile of throw up in the corner nearest to the outside, he was glad he tossed his cookies over there rather than near his friends. He sat heavily, slumping really, hands out supporting in front of him while he sat on his legs and his back arched. It wouldn't be hard to puke in this position, but he took that into account when he put himself there. If he was going to puke again he didn't want to fall in it. He may not be able to smell or taste it much but... ew.

Speaking of which, the boy closed his eyes as a shiver ran down his spine, swallowing in rapid succession because something was definitely trying to come up.

He heard Wally through the sudden fog, commenting about deep breaths and taking it slow. He really did appreciate the speedster, and the talking really was nice, but he needed a new script. He was starting to sound like Dick's monotone, unenthusiastic history teacher.

Once he was feeling better Dick opened his eyes, his breathing slightly hiccuping in his chest.

Deciding to switch gears, Dick focused on his back and the new muscles there. He felt a pulling sensation, like tendons in his arms, the wings reacted accordingly, lifting and stretching ever so slowly. It was weird, because it really was like having an arm coming out of his back, the "shoulder" was connected to his back, the big lump of muscles at the base of his wing. The "upper arm" was rather short, but longer than his own regular upper arm. Then it bent like an elbow, down so the wing could fold like putting your wrist to your shoulder. But then the wing "wrist" was almost round and the "forearm" much longer. There was still plenty of wing left but no more muscles, he didn't quite have a hand or fingers but just a sliver of bone and muscle that controlled where the tips of his primaries pointed.

The words of feathers were popping into his head, it was really weird and he almost told it to Wally but decided that wasn't worth noting.

Again Wally was encouraging him as the avian tested his muscles, trying to figure out what pull where did what. He felt his mass dip back like his wing "shoulders" were more in the middle of his back rather than his shoulder blades. He nearly tipped over but he rightened himself, then the wing "shoulders" went too high like they were on his actual shoulders and he pitched forward.