A Loud Bird You Can't Forget

Eagle drove in silence, ripping down the rainswept highway as crimson washed to brown onto the asphalt. His heart beat faster and harder than the eight steel cylinders just ahead of him, yet he only breathed. It wasn’t for hours that he finally broke the silence to himself. He'd have preferred an insult, something about how he really showed those yokels whose boss, but all that came was, "I'm sure those folks are fine, I didn’t speed out that fast anyhow…”

Regardless of what he habitually told himself , Cozy turned on his CB radio, closed his eyes, and focused on avoiding every police patrol route possible, “They’re fine, forget about it, forget about it.”

And he did, for the most part. Eagle went on through his days without a thought cast to Shrinktown, a blip in his run that, as far as he was concerned, ended with minimal damage. But the Orenda cast thoughts towards him too, many thoughts that over time subsided for the most part, except for one. One light that burned bright red way, way off in the distance when Eagle dreamt, its light burning the hairs of his nose and whites of his eyes. He’d never had such a light see him too, burn so fiercely because of his presence. And though it frayed and singed at the ends of his psyche, lying half-asleep with the buzz of his radio, Cozy began to like the idea that such passionate feelings were held towards him, for the very first time.

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The parasitic connection only grew over the years, feeding and growing off a scab that refused to close up. And Eagles mind grew fat from feeding, grew closer and took more and more with each waning moon. He became more confident, more boastful, better at his job, because now he had another mind to pull from that refused to detach, a Proxy.

He began visiting her in her dreams, building himself up as a monument in her memories that she could never look away from. Of metal and feathers, an edged bird of prey with eyes that never left her alone even in the waking days, its silhouette cast over her in midday sun. But it was only a bit of fun, a demented mind game he played with himself, to boost his confidence and help him heal from the trauma. Not that there was any trauma to heal from, everyone at the Orenda was fine, and no one thought about him, Cozy was just a normal guy.

And then, one day another light began to dimly sizzle in his mind. Not nearly as bright and not close to as hot, but there nonetheless, casting its heat towards him. “She went and finally told someone about us huh?” Eagle sat up from his cabin mattress with a groan and a stretch, blankets falling down his exposed belly, “Well, can’t be having that can we?.”

It would have been impossible for even those most experienced in these sorts of things, but Eagle had his little buddies extra brainpower, and after an afternoon of absentminded cruising, he picked up the plot for November 5th. “Ropin’ others in there ain’t gonna help girly… there's barely room for the two’a us.”. But this new, colder light was slippery, pale. He didn’t have control of it like he did the girls, and that made him nervous. So he took a hard left at the last second, and went to see an old buddy.

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Three great radio towers stretched scratched white into the pale blue sky, bleeding their red lights into its hue. Below, a massive rig pulled up a paved dirt hill, and Cozy Eagle stepped out down to the earth, “Ey’ Tuner, how ya doin’ these days?”. He was Jolly, cordial, unassuming, it was his instinct.

Tuner pulled up his welding mask and turned towards Cozy quickly, happy to see another face up in this little bit of nowhere, “Well ol’ Cozy! Is great to see ya’ yessir it is.”

The two men waddled over to each other and shared an enthusiastic handshake, one that was noticeably more one sided in strength. Tuner rubbed his brittle hand casually and then stuck it in his overall pocket, “I assume you’ve got some sort’a business ammai’ right?”

A short shadow of grief cast over Cozy's brow, lowering his head towards the old man, “ I'm afraid it might be a bit more of a personal situation this time Tuner.”

“Wazzat?” the overalled senior turned his head over, a concerned expression to match Eagles own, “I don't owe ye money or something like at, do I Cozy?”

Cozy let out a belly laugh, patting his friend just a smidge harder than may have been healthy, “No No Tuner nothing like that, It’s a family matter you understand?”. He lowered his head down to the man's earlevel, speaking in a somber tone, “It’s my daughter ya’ see, we had a falling out years ago and she hasn’t wanted to see me since…”, he stood and walked forward a ways, turning his back to the old man.

“Now I've respected the girl's privacy plenty, but she went and hired this Detective, want’s to use a Proxy Channel to wipe any kinda memory of me outta’ her head.” Turned away where the old man couldn’t see, Eagle's sob story was contrasted by a vile silver laced smile. When he turned again, he grabbed Tuner by the shoulders and gazed down at the man, who was taken aback by the swiftness of his action, “Please Tuner, I know it ain’t by the book but I gotta have that channel number, I just wanna talk to the guy, convince him to not go through with it is all.”

Tuner bit his lip, considering the poor man's desperate plea, “Well… It ain’t followin’ the code cozy, and you know them suit types are real particular about-” Eagles grip on the man's frail arms tightened, his eyes began to vein up, “Please Tuner, help me out here.”

Pity infused with a faint, but tasteable dash of fear in Tuner, who eventually nodded, “Well, alright then Cozy, if it’s that important to ya’...”. Eagle immediately released the man, casting a shadow over him and grinning low, “Thank you Tuner, I really do appreciate it" 

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Thousands of collisions, metal on metal, metal on flesh, flashes of light and sound of all kinds but comfort swirled around Charles as his assailant tore from his facade. Shoddy ribbons of felt face peeled across his head, button eyes popping off and flying away, one landing right in Furmos pried open jaw. Where the perfect visage of Hot Mic once stood now lurked her parasite, crouched amongst the strewn viscera of her ragged depiction.

Only vague features were human, the subtle shape of a fat man, blue eyes and large arms with a handful of fingers. But the rest was all claws and teeth, Rusted black metal that seemed to always be in blurred motion. Charles flicked his tongue madly, one of the only parts of him that wasn’t hopelessly restrained by snaked tailpipe appendages, in a reflex attempt to spit out the button.

But Eagle was on him in an instant, jamming the plastic shape down his throat with a single jagged feather. Charles thrashed and gagged as blood washed down the object, while Eagle’s exhaust lungs bellowed black smokey laughter. “Ya’ know what’s real funny Mr.Furmo? What’s a real damn leg kicker about all this mess?”, he shook Charles wildly, only increasing the vertigo of the traffic storm around them. Pulling him in real close, Eagles human, baby-blue eye flaked rust from around its lashes, “This is all just gonna’ be a nightmare for you, you’ll wake up just a normal guy, no hero, just a bit’a fun”.

He plunged more pipes deep into the black cotton void beneath their feet, endless lengths of sharpened steel until the empty world began to squeal and shutter. Charles didn’t want to be a hero, he didn’t want to solve this problem, but the scream in his mind was one he screamed too once, living another lifetime in the fraction of a second. Saving yourself isn’t hero work, maybe he could do that.

Shrieks echoed from every vector, every plain and every edge. The thrashing pipes yanked up out of the material of the world, fishing for the mind he leeched onto, and in the process Cozy kicked over the rotting wooden desk, dissolving instantly into nothing but a splitter of white bone.

“Aint I just a lucky guy, to have you stumble in here for the evening?” The material bubbled and split, the echoes of screams condensing and becoming one singular cry from beneath the fissures. “Anyone who knew what the hell they were doin’ would’a caught on immediately, but you were so lost I could tell you’d never even stretched that slim lil’ brain of yours even a bit!”

Charles’s eyelids were pried open towards the vicious drag, each whimper that came forth infinitely more painful than any scream that rattled in his head. Short, autumn red hair emerged from the breach, “You can’t be walkin’ around in your own mind Mr.Furmo, that’s the point of having a damn Proxy now ain’t it? And I think it’s about my time for a turn at the wheel.”