The Patriots Keeper Part 2/?
Part Two! The part in which nothing much happens!
Apologies for any mistakes as this is un-beta'd.
Also: Disclaimer! I know nothing about New York!
Description: America has devolved into a fascist state. New York is a hell-hole centred around a tower that houses a mythical semi-deity figure known as 'The Eagle'. A creature that few have ever seen. Jon finds himsef face to face with it and, with all of his conceptions challenged, finds himself at a loss of what to do.
Characters: "Stephen Colbert", Jon Stewart, Eventual Steve Carrel, John Oliver, and Raven, also others
Rating: Pg 13 at the momentbut may go higher
Warning: The 'F' word, a little violence I guess? But not really
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Jon couldn’t believe that he’d convinced himself to return. He stood on the very edge of the inner circle, hiding from the guards in the shadows. He could just imagine the calls he’d hear if someone saw him. Way to support the stereotype, Stewart!
The creeping Jew lurking in the dark.
The guards were probably wondering why he wasn’t there, he was wondering why he was. It couldn’t have said his name. How would it know his name? Well he’d told it hadn’t he!
‘Hi, my names Jon Stewart, my eyeballs are real tasty! Look me up on JDate!’
‘Middle aged man looking for consensual cannibalism’
This was ridiculous. He could just go home, go to prison and be done with it, be done with the whole 3 months. Be done with the Angry-birds man. Okay that was a good one, if he were ever to write a book about this that’d definitely be a chapter title- his runaway train of thought was derailed as a flickering caught his eye. Something was in one of the windows, his windows. The shape dropped from the ledge and Jon almost cried out before it unfurled its huge wings and swept away into the air and from sight. It’d been The Eagle. It’d left; The Eagle had left the building- okay that was Chapter two. Jon ran to the guards like his life depended on it and hoped that they could get through their checks before The Eagle returned from god-knows-where.
The Eagle didn’t return and Jon was able to get through all of his chores without a hitch. It was the most peaceful day of his life.
He repeated this tactic over the next three days and it was successful every time. Jon went to work whistling and left with a song on his lips.
The fourth day was just the same as the others, The Eagle vacated and Jon entered, he bounced up the stairs- which was havoc for his knees but good for his spirits- and backed the door open pulling his work materials behind him. He’d just gone to push the door closed behind him when it slammed shut. Every muscle in Jon’s body turned to stone, his heart felt as though it were trying to beat itself to death against the inside of his ribs.
It had hidden behind the door.
It had been waiting for him.
He let out a ragged gasp and pivoted slowly on his heels. It was standing, inches from him, face tight, eyes dead cold. Jon whimpered. This time, this time it would eat his face. It didn’t. It just stared, and then slowly began to weave its head. It breathed in heavily through its nostrils and flexed its chest, muscles rippling.
Up close Jon could see he’d been wrong. It was more human than he’d first thought. There was a top beak, sure, but no bottom one just a human jaw and pink bottom lip (must make eating a bitch); it even had human ears, one pointy like an elf. The eyes even, despite being huge round and yellow, were framed with long, thick dark eyelashes.
It puffed out its chest, which rather than having hair was dappled with downy feathers, drew back its head and let out an ear ringing squawk. Jon stumbled back in fear, tripping over his own feet, and it followed him puffing up its feathers and grinding its jaw. Jon stumbled again and fell backwards onto his backside.
He was pretty sure in that moment that he was going to die, that it would leap on him and tear him to shreds with those finger long talons but it didn’t. It just stayed where it was and began to shake its chest. Like it was shimmying. It was such a strange sight, like something out of some weird ‘Beyoncé’ video, that Jon began to giggle. He hadn’t meant to but it had slipped out and all of a sudden he was shaking with it, he clamped his hands over his mouth as he went red in the face. The Eagle stopped, frowned at him bemused and then dived towards his face. Jon squeaked and scrambled backwards and to his feet. The Eagle watched him, tilting its head curiously to one side; all of the menace had left its eyes leaving only a general wariness. It squawked and when that got no response from the now silent Jon looked thoughtful for a moment and then began to shimmy. Jon just stared at it. Was it trying to dance him to death? The Eagle stopped and looked back at him equally baffled. They watched each other, both wary, both unsure. The Eagle let out a noise more like a cheep than a squawk and Jon began to giggle again. It dived forward once more and Jon leapt back. They were getting closer and closer to the dead-end bathing room and further and further from the door.
The Eagle narrowed its eyes and tilted its chin down to one shoulder looking at him with suspicious and slowly comprehending eyes. It cheeped and Jon giggled. It cheeped and he giggled again.
Jon threaded his fingers over his mouth in a desperate attempt to hold the laughter in but fear was driving it out and the more he found himself worrying about laughing in front of an eagle-monster the more the absurdity of his situation hit him and the more he wanted to giggle. He was in an impossible position, a no win, no James .T. Kirk-ing your way out of it position. So he dived for the exit. The Eagle was too quick however and jumped to intercept him, barring him from the door. It narrowed its eyes at him angrily and huffed out deeply through its nose, its chest heaved with disapproval. Jon whimpered.
He was being held hostage by a giant pigeon.
He tried not to think about it. He knew the moment he imagined it- the terrifying killing-machine eagle-man strutting around like a pigeon, himself in a cage in the shape of a giant coop- that he’d regret it. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back, the dam broke and every giggle he’d held in fell out. His hands flew away from his face and he threw his head back as the shrillest noise he’d ever made belted out. The Eagle squawked, bounced on its feet and ran disappearing into the living space before peering back around the corner. Jon only laughed harder, tears in his eyes and face beet red. He dropped his hands to his knees and hunched over completely unable to breathe. Distantly he was aware that The Eagle had begun to creep over again but he was unable to move any more than an inch without risking falling over and it was too close by then. He craned up and watched through watery eyes as it reached towards him with one curled hand. Its knuckles were leathery and nobbled and just grazed his cheek when he came to his senses and batted the talons away
“Get off’a me!” The Eagle yanked its hand away, pulling it to its chest as Jon gasped at it, lungs and ribs sore. He held his breath, waiting for the reprimand, the angry realization that Jon had just hit it, that he’d told it what to do, but there wasn’t any. Just a mournful look of hurt and a complete lack of understanding. He felt his heart drop in his chest and he swallowed heavily
“You uh, you don’t get much company around here do you?” the look on its face as its eyes dropped to the floor, just for a second, let Jon know all he needed to. He sighed and very gently reached and out and even more gently slipped his fingers into The Eagle’s. It jerked away with shock and the sharp talons cut his fingers
“Argh! Fuck!”
It hissed and pulled away, fearful and upset, as the blood spilt out from between the open skin. The eagle squawked, hopped nervously on its feet and then, with a flutter of feathers, fled again. Jon hissed and looked for a clean cloth to use as a bandage. The cuts weren’t deep; it’d just been a shock. His fault really, grabbing without warning. No petting at the zoo. He wrapped the slightly raggedy cloth round his hand and tied a knot hoping that it wouldn’t get infected; he didn’t have enough tokens for a hospital visit. Then he turned his attentions back to the bird-man that was peering at him nervously from around the wall
“Hey you,” he beckoned “Err...” he shrugged at a loss and reached for names “Steagle?” The Eagle somehow managed to look offended even when cowering and Jon shrugged shamefully. It poked one long leg round the corner and slowly began to approach watching him with wary suspicious eyes, almost as if it were worried it were in trouble
“Don’t worry, I’m not angry.” He smiled holding up his hands “See? Totally fine.” Okay, so there was blood soaking through the bandage but he was mostly fine. The Eagle clearly didn’t buy it but it came over anyway and when Jon held out his hand it hesitated only for a moment before putting its own into his “There we go.” He smiled, hopefully appearing more calm than he was feeling “What was it you were reaching for huh? Was it my face?” The Eagle shook its head as he moved the hand towards his cheek and he frowned “What then?” nbsp;
Despite his better judgement Jon didn’t resist when their hands began to move by The Eagle’s accord, he might have, however, felt his bowels shift a little when he felt its knuckles rest against his throat “There?” he croaked and it let out a soft squawk.
“Why?” he whispered and it threw its head back and made a strange bouncing noise. Jon stared at it
“Okay, I don’t understand.” The Eagle rolled its eyes, cleared its throat and then, with a voice rough from years of misuse, it made a sound like a human giggle. Jon stared, wide-eyed. “Oh.” He said. He hummed in his throat and The Eagle gave him an impatient glare “Okay, I’m trying there’s just not a lot to laugh at right now.”
It rolled its eyes again and then did the most unexpected little sassy head shake that Jon had ever seen and all of a sudden he was giggling again. The Eagles eyes flew wide and it ducked to peer at Jon’s throat, then at his face, then critically at his general self as if to say ‘That laugh does not belong in that body’. Jon shrugged helplessly with a grin and its eyebrow curved up comically in reply.
That would be the last time that he was able to get any work done.
The next day Jon bounced up the stairs, not with hope that he’d be alone but filled with the contentment of no longer living in fear of not so metaphorical ‘Monster at the End of the Book’ that awaited him upstairs. When he opened the door and stepped in The Eagle was nowhere to be seen but there was the sound of splashing from the bathing room and Jon followed it.
It was standing in the middle of the bathing pool, flapping his wings against the surface and dipping his head under the water, shaking it all over and wriggling his body.
It really was just a giant bird bath.
“You having fun?” Jon called. The Eagle turned to look at him for a moment and then turned away and went back to bathing. Jon took that as meaning that he could find his own way around. He looked at his mop and then decided against it pacing over, rolling his trousers up, taking off his shoes and sitting by the pool dangling his feet in. The Eagle continued with his preening unperturbed, content to ignore him. Jon sat in silence for a while enjoying the rippling of the water on his feet and humming to himself. It was nice to just relax, his own apartment was kinda stuffy and the tower block he lived in put him on edge.
He was distracted from his privacy by the movement at the centre of the pool. The Eagle was shaking its head back and forth, wriggling his body, his wet hair flopping and spiking. Splashing water around like a shaggy dog
“You trying to dry that off?” he called and it turned to glower at him sulkily “Come here.” He called and got up from the edge as it waded towards him. He climbed up to his feet and left it waiting for him, splashing itself and preening as he looked for a towel. When he found one he sat back down again and called The Eagle’s attention to him taking his head in the towel and rubbing his hair dry for him, it squawked indignantly under his administrations and glowered at him when he pulled the towel away so he threw it back over its head with a laugh.
It pulled it away and attempted to fling it into the water but it’d got speared on a talon and it ended up thrashing the towel around unceremoniously on the end of its arm whilst Jon giggled into a fist. Eventually it gave up and glared at him, nostrils flaring and eyes squinting. Jon just laughed harder, that was until it grabbed him and yanked him into the pool. They tussled in the water, wrestling, kicking and giggling bubbles until they both had to surface for air and Jon cried out for a truce.
“Okay, okay I gotta work, I gotta work! Let me go, come on.” He sighed as he struggled up over the side of the pool, The Eagle pulling at the hems of his trousers “Gimme a break! I’ll get told off- come on!” It sighed and flopped back into the water to sulk as he pulled his shirt over his head and rung it out. Jon frowned up over his sopping shirt
“I’d dried that hair you know.” He chided and it splashed him with a flap of his wings. Jon tried to smother a grin with a disapproving shake of his head and wagged his finger as he pushed himself to his feet turning to his cleaning equipment “Now that’s childish.”
There was silence as he pulled the mop from its bucket and began to clean up the mess he’d made. He’d almost got it dry when The Eagle gave another mighty flap and half the pool flew out and drowned him
“Okay, that’s it! This means war!”
Jon did very little work over the next couple of weeks. Mostly he snuck extra food in with him in the guise of a ‘packed lunch’ and threw it across the room so that he could watch The Eagle catch it in the air. One day he’d tried to sneak in burgers but they’d been so torn apart by the governments safety boys that they’d ended up as little more than mashed meet, The Eagle hadn’t seemed to have minded and was more than eager to try cooked meat for a change. (He didn’t even wanna think about what it must have been eating before he’d started bringing lunch.) Jon had ended up cleaning most of it up off of the floor, not that it was easy as his new ‘friend’- if that’s what they could be called- had taken to shadowing him everywhere, always just at his shoulder.
Somedays he’d not be as friendly, when he felt threatened by Jon’s obvious comfort in his home he’d go back to his posturing. Fluffing up and extending his wings, flexing his arms and chest and strutting around squawking, nudging and elbowing him. Jon dealt with it by ignoring him and, The Eagle, being the attention craver he was, would quickly fold and be cheeping for his attention.
As the weeks went by Jon began to dread the day that he would be leaving.
Every now and again Jon would arrive before The Eagle and he took this time to tidy up his living space for him. It was a mess, the bed had been stripped and partially shredded and what sheets and covers there were in the building had been weaved into some elaborate nest in the centre of the room. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime, bits of unreadable paper and manila folders littered the floor. Old newspapers, magazines, pairs of trousers, shredded material that once could have been other articles of clothing and DVD’s were scattered around- not that Jon could find a DVD player, there didn’t even seem to be a TV. The only things that were on the shelves were books: the Bible and well-read copies of every J.R.R Tolkien book seemingly ever written. Jon became pretty sure then that The Eagle was smarter than he let on.
He was cleaning out bits of rotten meat from under the bed when he found it. It was a folder, manila, like the others and pretty super secret looking. It was in remarkable condition and unlike the others actually readable, and it was labelled
‘Stephen’
Jon swallowed. This was some serious shit. Maybe he shouldn’t read it. It was government and Top Secret and didn’t those self destruct when they were read? He was tempted to just shove it back under the bed but then hadn’t his last risqué move turned out pretty well? A man could be lucky a second time. He peeled back the cover and inside was indeed a picture of The Eagle and it was labelled
‘Stephen’
He was young in the picture, just a kid, a baby even. Jon wondered if this picture had been taken the day he’d washed up at old lady Liberty’s feet. He didn’t get any further than the photo as he was interrupted by a heavy thump and flapping as ‘The Eagle’- as ‘Stephen’- came in through the window. Jon whirled round to look at him like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and The Eagle could tell, probably from the look on his face, what he’d found. He lurched forward and snatched the folder from Jon’s hand, puncturing with his talons and shredded it with his beak. Jon cried out
“Stephen, stop!”
The Eagle froze, his eyes seemed to grow twice their size, his whole body bristled and his nostril flared. Jon froze in terror as Stephen seemed to expand with rage in front of him. There was a moment of Zen like peace before The Eagle broke it with the most ungodly noise that Jon had ever heard. He cried out and covered his eardrums scrabbling up on his hands and knees to get away from it but Stephen followed him chasing him into the corridor. Jon couldn’t hear himself begging but he could feel himself moving his mouth, he fled out of the door and into the stairwell and The Eagle slammed the door shut behind him. Jon collapsed against the wall and held his ears in the silence, a silence than rang with the shrill ringing of his eardrums
“Jesus-fuck, Eagle!” he shouted but if it’d heard him he got no reply and he didn’t push for one. In fact he doubted if he would get one again.
What the fuck had been in that folder
Apologies for any mistakes as this is un-beta'd.
Also: Disclaimer! I know nothing about New York!
Description: America has devolved into a fascist state. New York is a hell-hole centred around a tower that houses a mythical semi-deity figure known as 'The Eagle'. A creature that few have ever seen. Jon finds himsef face to face with it and, with all of his conceptions challenged, finds himself at a loss of what to do.
Characters: "Stephen Colbert", Jon Stewart, Eventual Steve Carrel, John Oliver, and Raven, also others
Rating: Pg 13 at the momentbut may go higher
Warning: The 'F' word, a little violence I guess? But not really
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Jon couldn’t believe that he’d convinced himself to return. He stood on the very edge of the inner circle, hiding from the guards in the shadows. He could just imagine the calls he’d hear if someone saw him. Way to support the stereotype, Stewart!
The creeping Jew lurking in the dark.
The guards were probably wondering why he wasn’t there, he was wondering why he was. It couldn’t have said his name. How would it know his name? Well he’d told it hadn’t he!
‘Hi, my names Jon Stewart, my eyeballs are real tasty! Look me up on JDate!’
‘Middle aged man looking for consensual cannibalism’
This was ridiculous. He could just go home, go to prison and be done with it, be done with the whole 3 months. Be done with the Angry-birds man. Okay that was a good one, if he were ever to write a book about this that’d definitely be a chapter title- his runaway train of thought was derailed as a flickering caught his eye. Something was in one of the windows, his windows. The shape dropped from the ledge and Jon almost cried out before it unfurled its huge wings and swept away into the air and from sight. It’d been The Eagle. It’d left; The Eagle had left the building- okay that was Chapter two. Jon ran to the guards like his life depended on it and hoped that they could get through their checks before The Eagle returned from god-knows-where.
The Eagle didn’t return and Jon was able to get through all of his chores without a hitch. It was the most peaceful day of his life.
He repeated this tactic over the next three days and it was successful every time. Jon went to work whistling and left with a song on his lips.
The fourth day was just the same as the others, The Eagle vacated and Jon entered, he bounced up the stairs- which was havoc for his knees but good for his spirits- and backed the door open pulling his work materials behind him. He’d just gone to push the door closed behind him when it slammed shut. Every muscle in Jon’s body turned to stone, his heart felt as though it were trying to beat itself to death against the inside of his ribs.
It had hidden behind the door.
It had been waiting for him.
He let out a ragged gasp and pivoted slowly on his heels. It was standing, inches from him, face tight, eyes dead cold. Jon whimpered. This time, this time it would eat his face. It didn’t. It just stared, and then slowly began to weave its head. It breathed in heavily through its nostrils and flexed its chest, muscles rippling.
Up close Jon could see he’d been wrong. It was more human than he’d first thought. There was a top beak, sure, but no bottom one just a human jaw and pink bottom lip (must make eating a bitch); it even had human ears, one pointy like an elf. The eyes even, despite being huge round and yellow, were framed with long, thick dark eyelashes.
It puffed out its chest, which rather than having hair was dappled with downy feathers, drew back its head and let out an ear ringing squawk. Jon stumbled back in fear, tripping over his own feet, and it followed him puffing up its feathers and grinding its jaw. Jon stumbled again and fell backwards onto his backside.
He was pretty sure in that moment that he was going to die, that it would leap on him and tear him to shreds with those finger long talons but it didn’t. It just stayed where it was and began to shake its chest. Like it was shimmying. It was such a strange sight, like something out of some weird ‘Beyoncé’ video, that Jon began to giggle. He hadn’t meant to but it had slipped out and all of a sudden he was shaking with it, he clamped his hands over his mouth as he went red in the face. The Eagle stopped, frowned at him bemused and then dived towards his face. Jon squeaked and scrambled backwards and to his feet. The Eagle watched him, tilting its head curiously to one side; all of the menace had left its eyes leaving only a general wariness. It squawked and when that got no response from the now silent Jon looked thoughtful for a moment and then began to shimmy. Jon just stared at it. Was it trying to dance him to death? The Eagle stopped and looked back at him equally baffled. They watched each other, both wary, both unsure. The Eagle let out a noise more like a cheep than a squawk and Jon began to giggle again. It dived forward once more and Jon leapt back. They were getting closer and closer to the dead-end bathing room and further and further from the door.
The Eagle narrowed its eyes and tilted its chin down to one shoulder looking at him with suspicious and slowly comprehending eyes. It cheeped and Jon giggled. It cheeped and he giggled again.
Jon threaded his fingers over his mouth in a desperate attempt to hold the laughter in but fear was driving it out and the more he found himself worrying about laughing in front of an eagle-monster the more the absurdity of his situation hit him and the more he wanted to giggle. He was in an impossible position, a no win, no James .T. Kirk-ing your way out of it position. So he dived for the exit. The Eagle was too quick however and jumped to intercept him, barring him from the door. It narrowed its eyes at him angrily and huffed out deeply through its nose, its chest heaved with disapproval. Jon whimpered.
He was being held hostage by a giant pigeon.
He tried not to think about it. He knew the moment he imagined it- the terrifying killing-machine eagle-man strutting around like a pigeon, himself in a cage in the shape of a giant coop- that he’d regret it. It was the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back, the dam broke and every giggle he’d held in fell out. His hands flew away from his face and he threw his head back as the shrillest noise he’d ever made belted out. The Eagle squawked, bounced on its feet and ran disappearing into the living space before peering back around the corner. Jon only laughed harder, tears in his eyes and face beet red. He dropped his hands to his knees and hunched over completely unable to breathe. Distantly he was aware that The Eagle had begun to creep over again but he was unable to move any more than an inch without risking falling over and it was too close by then. He craned up and watched through watery eyes as it reached towards him with one curled hand. Its knuckles were leathery and nobbled and just grazed his cheek when he came to his senses and batted the talons away
“Get off’a me!” The Eagle yanked its hand away, pulling it to its chest as Jon gasped at it, lungs and ribs sore. He held his breath, waiting for the reprimand, the angry realization that Jon had just hit it, that he’d told it what to do, but there wasn’t any. Just a mournful look of hurt and a complete lack of understanding. He felt his heart drop in his chest and he swallowed heavily
“You uh, you don’t get much company around here do you?” the look on its face as its eyes dropped to the floor, just for a second, let Jon know all he needed to. He sighed and very gently reached and out and even more gently slipped his fingers into The Eagle’s. It jerked away with shock and the sharp talons cut his fingers
“Argh! Fuck!”
It hissed and pulled away, fearful and upset, as the blood spilt out from between the open skin. The eagle squawked, hopped nervously on its feet and then, with a flutter of feathers, fled again. Jon hissed and looked for a clean cloth to use as a bandage. The cuts weren’t deep; it’d just been a shock. His fault really, grabbing without warning. No petting at the zoo. He wrapped the slightly raggedy cloth round his hand and tied a knot hoping that it wouldn’t get infected; he didn’t have enough tokens for a hospital visit. Then he turned his attentions back to the bird-man that was peering at him nervously from around the wall
“Hey you,” he beckoned “Err...” he shrugged at a loss and reached for names “Steagle?” The Eagle somehow managed to look offended even when cowering and Jon shrugged shamefully. It poked one long leg round the corner and slowly began to approach watching him with wary suspicious eyes, almost as if it were worried it were in trouble
“Don’t worry, I’m not angry.” He smiled holding up his hands “See? Totally fine.” Okay, so there was blood soaking through the bandage but he was mostly fine. The Eagle clearly didn’t buy it but it came over anyway and when Jon held out his hand it hesitated only for a moment before putting its own into his “There we go.” He smiled, hopefully appearing more calm than he was feeling “What was it you were reaching for huh? Was it my face?” The Eagle shook its head as he moved the hand towards his cheek and he frowned “What then?” nbsp;
Despite his better judgement Jon didn’t resist when their hands began to move by The Eagle’s accord, he might have, however, felt his bowels shift a little when he felt its knuckles rest against his throat “There?” he croaked and it let out a soft squawk.
“Why?” he whispered and it threw its head back and made a strange bouncing noise. Jon stared at it
“Okay, I don’t understand.” The Eagle rolled its eyes, cleared its throat and then, with a voice rough from years of misuse, it made a sound like a human giggle. Jon stared, wide-eyed. “Oh.” He said. He hummed in his throat and The Eagle gave him an impatient glare “Okay, I’m trying there’s just not a lot to laugh at right now.”
It rolled its eyes again and then did the most unexpected little sassy head shake that Jon had ever seen and all of a sudden he was giggling again. The Eagles eyes flew wide and it ducked to peer at Jon’s throat, then at his face, then critically at his general self as if to say ‘That laugh does not belong in that body’. Jon shrugged helplessly with a grin and its eyebrow curved up comically in reply.
That would be the last time that he was able to get any work done.
The next day Jon bounced up the stairs, not with hope that he’d be alone but filled with the contentment of no longer living in fear of not so metaphorical ‘Monster at the End of the Book’ that awaited him upstairs. When he opened the door and stepped in The Eagle was nowhere to be seen but there was the sound of splashing from the bathing room and Jon followed it.
It was standing in the middle of the bathing pool, flapping his wings against the surface and dipping his head under the water, shaking it all over and wriggling his body.
It really was just a giant bird bath.
“You having fun?” Jon called. The Eagle turned to look at him for a moment and then turned away and went back to bathing. Jon took that as meaning that he could find his own way around. He looked at his mop and then decided against it pacing over, rolling his trousers up, taking off his shoes and sitting by the pool dangling his feet in. The Eagle continued with his preening unperturbed, content to ignore him. Jon sat in silence for a while enjoying the rippling of the water on his feet and humming to himself. It was nice to just relax, his own apartment was kinda stuffy and the tower block he lived in put him on edge.
He was distracted from his privacy by the movement at the centre of the pool. The Eagle was shaking its head back and forth, wriggling his body, his wet hair flopping and spiking. Splashing water around like a shaggy dog
“You trying to dry that off?” he called and it turned to glower at him sulkily “Come here.” He called and got up from the edge as it waded towards him. He climbed up to his feet and left it waiting for him, splashing itself and preening as he looked for a towel. When he found one he sat back down again and called The Eagle’s attention to him taking his head in the towel and rubbing his hair dry for him, it squawked indignantly under his administrations and glowered at him when he pulled the towel away so he threw it back over its head with a laugh.
It pulled it away and attempted to fling it into the water but it’d got speared on a talon and it ended up thrashing the towel around unceremoniously on the end of its arm whilst Jon giggled into a fist. Eventually it gave up and glared at him, nostrils flaring and eyes squinting. Jon just laughed harder, that was until it grabbed him and yanked him into the pool. They tussled in the water, wrestling, kicking and giggling bubbles until they both had to surface for air and Jon cried out for a truce.
“Okay, okay I gotta work, I gotta work! Let me go, come on.” He sighed as he struggled up over the side of the pool, The Eagle pulling at the hems of his trousers “Gimme a break! I’ll get told off- come on!” It sighed and flopped back into the water to sulk as he pulled his shirt over his head and rung it out. Jon frowned up over his sopping shirt
“I’d dried that hair you know.” He chided and it splashed him with a flap of his wings. Jon tried to smother a grin with a disapproving shake of his head and wagged his finger as he pushed himself to his feet turning to his cleaning equipment “Now that’s childish.”
There was silence as he pulled the mop from its bucket and began to clean up the mess he’d made. He’d almost got it dry when The Eagle gave another mighty flap and half the pool flew out and drowned him
“Okay, that’s it! This means war!”
Jon did very little work over the next couple of weeks. Mostly he snuck extra food in with him in the guise of a ‘packed lunch’ and threw it across the room so that he could watch The Eagle catch it in the air. One day he’d tried to sneak in burgers but they’d been so torn apart by the governments safety boys that they’d ended up as little more than mashed meet, The Eagle hadn’t seemed to have minded and was more than eager to try cooked meat for a change. (He didn’t even wanna think about what it must have been eating before he’d started bringing lunch.) Jon had ended up cleaning most of it up off of the floor, not that it was easy as his new ‘friend’- if that’s what they could be called- had taken to shadowing him everywhere, always just at his shoulder.
Somedays he’d not be as friendly, when he felt threatened by Jon’s obvious comfort in his home he’d go back to his posturing. Fluffing up and extending his wings, flexing his arms and chest and strutting around squawking, nudging and elbowing him. Jon dealt with it by ignoring him and, The Eagle, being the attention craver he was, would quickly fold and be cheeping for his attention.
As the weeks went by Jon began to dread the day that he would be leaving.
Every now and again Jon would arrive before The Eagle and he took this time to tidy up his living space for him. It was a mess, the bed had been stripped and partially shredded and what sheets and covers there were in the building had been weaved into some elaborate nest in the centre of the room. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust and grime, bits of unreadable paper and manila folders littered the floor. Old newspapers, magazines, pairs of trousers, shredded material that once could have been other articles of clothing and DVD’s were scattered around- not that Jon could find a DVD player, there didn’t even seem to be a TV. The only things that were on the shelves were books: the Bible and well-read copies of every J.R.R Tolkien book seemingly ever written. Jon became pretty sure then that The Eagle was smarter than he let on.
He was cleaning out bits of rotten meat from under the bed when he found it. It was a folder, manila, like the others and pretty super secret looking. It was in remarkable condition and unlike the others actually readable, and it was labelled
‘Stephen’
Jon swallowed. This was some serious shit. Maybe he shouldn’t read it. It was government and Top Secret and didn’t those self destruct when they were read? He was tempted to just shove it back under the bed but then hadn’t his last risqué move turned out pretty well? A man could be lucky a second time. He peeled back the cover and inside was indeed a picture of The Eagle and it was labelled
‘Stephen’
He was young in the picture, just a kid, a baby even. Jon wondered if this picture had been taken the day he’d washed up at old lady Liberty’s feet. He didn’t get any further than the photo as he was interrupted by a heavy thump and flapping as ‘The Eagle’- as ‘Stephen’- came in through the window. Jon whirled round to look at him like a guilty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and The Eagle could tell, probably from the look on his face, what he’d found. He lurched forward and snatched the folder from Jon’s hand, puncturing with his talons and shredded it with his beak. Jon cried out
“Stephen, stop!”
The Eagle froze, his eyes seemed to grow twice their size, his whole body bristled and his nostril flared. Jon froze in terror as Stephen seemed to expand with rage in front of him. There was a moment of Zen like peace before The Eagle broke it with the most ungodly noise that Jon had ever heard. He cried out and covered his eardrums scrabbling up on his hands and knees to get away from it but Stephen followed him chasing him into the corridor. Jon couldn’t hear himself begging but he could feel himself moving his mouth, he fled out of the door and into the stairwell and The Eagle slammed the door shut behind him. Jon collapsed against the wall and held his ears in the silence, a silence than rang with the shrill ringing of his eardrums
“Jesus-fuck, Eagle!” he shouted but if it’d heard him he got no reply and he didn’t push for one. In fact he doubted if he would get one again.
What the fuck had been in that folder