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“That’s a S.H.I.E.L.D.
helicarrier,” Evan said.
“They brought a helicarrier for me?
That feels personal.”
Hothead was enormous beside ordinary aircraft.
Beside the helicarrier, he looked small.
“Hothead,” Evan said, gripping the feathers beneath him, “we’re not bigger.
So we’re faster.
Move.”
Hothead shrieked and beat his wings harder.
The sound rolled like thunder.
He shot past the helicarrier before the missile locks could turn into a clean firing solution.
For the first time, Evan truly flew.
He sat steady on Hothead’s back while San Francisco fell away beneath them.
The ride should have been violent, but the bird’s body moved with impossible balance.
Evan spread his arms and laughed into the wind.
Hothead swept over the city.
People screamed from the streets below.
Cars swerved.
Windows shattered when the bird dipped too low, raining glass across the sidewalks in glittering sheets.
It was not harmless.
Evan knew that.
He also knew he had never felt freer.
Then the pursuit caught up.
Iron Man.
Spider-Man.
A S.H.I.E.L.D.
stealth jet.
And a man with mechanical wings cutting through the air behind them.
Sam Wilson.
The Falcon.
Evan frowned.
Sam Wilson did not have a bird-talking superpower.
Not as far as Evan knew.
But S.H.I.E.L.D.
had clearly given him some kind of avian-frequency transmitter, because Hothead reacted the moment the man got close.
“Master,” Hothead said, irritated, “that winged human is trying to speak to me.”
Evan’s mouth curved.
“What is he saying?”
“He says I should drop you and follow him.
That he’ll take care of me and give me an easy life.”
“Bold,” Evan said.
“He is trying to steal my bird.”
He stroked the feathers along Hothead’s neck.
“Knock him out of the sky.”
“Yes, Master.”
Hothead stopped so suddenly the air screamed around him.
Then he turned upright and beat both wings forward.
The gust condensed into a twisting burst of wind.
“Incoming!” Tony shouted.
Too late.
The shockwave caught them all.
Iron Man slammed into the side of a high-rise and vanished in an explosion of glass and concrete.
Spider-Man caught himself with webbing, but the wind pinned him against a wall so hard he could barely move.
Falcon’s wings sparked and smoked.
He dropped fast, fighting for control.
The S.H.I.E.L.D.
stealth jet took the worst of it.
The blast rolled the aircraft sideways and sent it crashing toward Fisherman’s Wharf, where it hit the water in a violent spray.
“Beautiful,” Evan said.
Hothead cried out, proud of himself.
“Enough playing.
We’re going home.”
The bird climbed.
This time, he flew north.
Evan had plans for Hothead and Big Bear.
They were accidents, technically.
Mutated by life force leaking from his evolution.
But he had created them, and that made them his responsibility.
Besides, two prehistoric monsters with that much power were too useful to abandon.
Leaving them in the United States was a bad idea.
Federal agencies would tear the country apart looking for them, and sooner or later someone would try to cage, cut, or weaponize them.
Northern Canada was better.
Endless wilderness.
Brutal weather.
Enough distance and border headaches to slow any American search.
If Hothead and Big Bear buried themselves deep enough, they would not be found easily.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter.