I Am A Flyer

II: Taken

Jett propped up his head with a hand, completely unimpressed with the pale green mush filling his bowl. He had yet to try it; the stuff looked one hundred percent unedible. Come on. . .it can't be much worse than that porridge they served at the training compound.

Making up his mind, he dipped the spoon into the mush, scooping up a small amount. The spoon rose to his mouth, which was unwillingly opening to accommodate the food. It didn't make it. His hand froze in midair the second his nose caught a whiff of the green goo filling his spoon.

Burnt grass! They're feeding us cow food!

The spoon clattered to his bowl, and Jett lifted his head to look across the table. Iern met his gaze, wearing a similar disgusted expression.

"I can't do this," Jett mumbled. "It smells gross."

"It is gross," Iern responded. The fact that he was agreeing with Jett caught Jett by surprise. "It's like they spent all night picking green fuzz from between their toes to make. . .this. I dunno how anyone could eat this crap."

As one, they looked over to Suil, who was busy spooning the green mush down his throat. After every third bite or so, he took a long swig of water to wash it down. Sensing their incredulous stare, he paused.

"What?"

"You're eating toe fungus," Iern said flatly.

Suil sighed. "It's actually a mix of soy proteins with thirty different vitamins and minerals, as well as several other whole foods that support the body's systems. It's a great energizing food."

". . . freak."

"It is. . .unpleasant," Suil admitted, eyes narrowing a fraction, "however, if I were you, I'd be eating it without complaining. And I'd ask for seconds." He resumed eating.

Wearing a faint scowl, Jett allowed his attention to wander to the table next to theirs. Five or six flyers sat, happily eating their meal. Only, they didn't have to eat putrid mush. They got salted meat and canned vegetables, along with powdered potatoes. It wasn't fair!

A River flyer looked up, catching Jett's unhappy stare. He grinned, elbowing the guy next to him. "What's the matter, kid? Not very hungry?"

Jett was hungry. Actually, ravenous would be a better word. He was also tired, stiff and sore, because Lante, the Twelve who'd been assigned to him two days prior, had spent those two days beating defense techniques into him. Add that all together, sprinkle with the fact that Ravia had disappeared, and you had a recipe for a grouchy Jett.

So he just settled for a dark glare. That was when a glob of green goo splashed right into the flyer's eye.

Jett blinked. Where did that come from? The green gunk began to slowly slide down the River flyer's face, leaving a slimy trail. Said flyer lifted a blue-clad arm, wiping the stuff out of his eye. Then he fixed his brown eyes on Jett, his face so very calm. His friends at the table turned as well, displaying varying expressions of surprise and disbelief.

Suddenly very nervous beneath all the attention, Jett looked down at his hands. That was when he noticed the empty spoon in his hands, a few remnant globs dirtying it's silver surface. Huh? His eyes flicked over to the now-dirty flyer, then back to the spoon. Did. . .I do that? Huh.

"You. Little. Brat." The River flyer hissed, rising from his chair stiffly. Those brown eyes burned with displeasure. And that was putting it nicely. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um. . ." The Talon trainee nervously laughed. "It was an accident?"

A snicker from Iern. "You're dead meat now, Wimpy. Try and put on a good show before you die."