Horologe ⚚ [Maximum Ride/Black Butler]

Chapter III

A deceivingly-pleasant voice, smooth like freshly-opened peanut butter (god, did I mention that I was absolutely starving?), wafted by my ear. Like, right by my ear.

I whirled around so fast I'm pretty sure I left one of those cliche, Road Runner dust clouds.

Two twin auburn orbs stared at me, the kind of colour you find in a glass of cherry cola, thick eyelashes adorning each one.

There, standing not even a whisper away, was this guy-- tousled black hair, the kind of flawless, porcelain skin that even I, the one who doesn't even bother to scrub the dirt off her face, could be jealous of, and tall enough. Of course, he was nowhere close to rivalling my two favourite lil beanstalks, Ig and Fang, but was almost two inches taller than me.

He smiled, a slight curl of his lips that sorta reached his eyes but then again not quite. The magenta-haired maid melted next to me.

Good god, this man looked like something bought from 'Goth Kens R Us', fresh out of the box. (Fang would too, and to be honest, their resemblances kind of scared me.)

But, I had expertise in dealing with the effortlessly beautiful; I could still tell those shits off without a single bat of my crusty eyelash. So naturally, while he was giving possibly the fakest smile ever known to man, I was glaring something fierce, challengingly.

"Listen up, and listen good," I began, still holding the maid hostage. "I want you to tell me just where the fuck I am, and who you are, and what I am doing in this place, before Pinky Pie over here starts coughing up a certain substance that you'd wish was ketchup."

It wasn't very Maxly of me to make death threats, I know. Having to be the heroine who saves the world 'n all, as Angel and the Voice keep on telling me, puts me in a bit of an identity pickle, you see.

Except, despite all that, we still can't ignore the fact that said heroine has indeed killed people before, multiple times. People who probably had families, children, in order to selfishly get her and her merry band of mutant men to safety.

So this wasn't really too difficult of an action to take. Heroics can wait till I get some nice and truthful answers.

The surreal-looking male actually let out a chuckle in response, continuing to give that fake-ass smile of his. "Really, now. Resorting to such petty threats...and using vulgarities as well? I'm afraid my eyes deceive me, for you are certainly not the same little girl I found on the lawn, unconscious, covered in grime, bleeding half to death, and looking absolutely pathetic." He leaned closer. "I daresay you are lucky my master was gracious enough to let you stay the night, forget receive treatment."

"Well I daresay your master has wasted his time, spiffy," I spat, being sure to enunciate the word with a British accent of my own. Gazzy would probably snort out loud at the suckyness of it, but not everyone has the ability to mimic everyone and thing down to the last syllable.

Not-so hastily, I released the maid. I bet my inhumanly strong grip still lingered on the poor girl; she had struggled a tad, even tried to kick me, but with no avail. "And if that's really all there is to it, like no brutal kidnapping or anything of the sort involved, then I guess that's all the better. Real good and dandy. Thanks a bunch." I'd normally hate to admit it, but I kind of sounded like an ungrateful, sarcastic bitch. "I'll be taking my leave now."

I turned and began heading towards the nearest window. I honestly had no idea just where I was going to go after I did my little up-up-and-away, but, I knew that somehow I could find my way back to the Flock. I always did, after all.

But, just as I took another step forward, I found myself bumping into the man who had been standing behind me not even a second ago.

"I apologize, but I can't let you do that, young miss," he said, and something about his tone screamed 'sorry not sorry,' like that time Nudge and Gazzy gouged the last slice of chocolate cake that was clearly meant for me.

I glared at him, rolling my shoulders back and raising my head so I could make myself seem taller. Kind of like a programmed animalistic defence mechanism. The height difference of ours, slight as it may be, really, really bothered me. "Why not?"

"Because," he said. "My young master requests your presence."

I had such a WTH moment right there and then. It wasn't even funny. My mind pulled a total, creeped-out blank.

And then, I came to my senses and simply, y'know, shoved the other out of the way. Violently shoved.

He actually stumbled back some, shock evident in his eyes, but I didn't pay any attention to such insignificant details and instead focused on making a well-practised run for it. And did I ever run, one leg pumping vigorously in front of the other, bare feet burning as they scraped the wooden floor, even taking the occasional chunk out of it. I probably got heels full of splinters now, yay me.

Taking a mighty leap off the ground, I hurled myself through the window, smashing through the glass. Fresh air hit my nostrils and, inhaling it in solitude, I snapped out my wings, all fifteen plus feet of 'em.

I felt like the shit right there; soaring high above the stupid mansion and its stupid inhabitants, feeling the wind rush through my veins and my hair become a windblown, tangled mess once again, as it should be.

Then the gunshot rang out.

Immediately, I felt the pain. Blood seeped heavily from under my feathers, my wings getting heavier by the second. It was only one shot, but it struck true, right in the middle of my wing, and fuck, it hurt. I tried to flap with only one, but we all know that was destined for failure, and I was dropping fast.

As I fell, my wings dragging me down like useless mounds of weight, I caught sight of the big-breasted maid girl, upper-body partially poking out from the broken window, glasses pulled up her forehead, and rifle aimed straight at yours feathery.

The sneaky bastard.