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Months dragged by, packed with hard work but barely a glimmer of progress. The birds weren't getting any smarter, weren't bulking up as planned, and time was ticking away at full speed. To make matters worse, Olivia was still mad at Gray Mann, and he was no closer to youth or glory. With a sigh, he slumped in his office chair, staring at the wall in exhausted defeat.
Gray's gaze drifted over to the big bird cage lined up against the wall. The birds had definitely grown, their feathers more vibrant and their beaks sharper, but they still weren’t exactly mercenary material. They couldn’t track down Australium or defeat the classic or the new mercenaries—not yet, anyway. And really, why did the classic mercenaries need to stay young, just as Gray wanted? In his opinion, only he deserved eternal life and youth. So fair and square!
After sitting around moping for far too long, Gray dragged himself to his feet and hobbled over to the cages, eyeing each bird. They all glared back with sharp, beady eyes. Did they hate him? Maybe it was because he’d swiped them from Olivia, or maybe it was all the injections, prods, and other "slightly invasive" experiments. Or... maybe they didn’t hate him at all! He tried to convince himself of this, but their glares said otherwise.
As he counted the birds, Gray noticed something... another inconvenience! One bird was missing—a green-cheeked conure, slightly lighter in color than her partner in crime, still perched in the cage.
“…Alright, you lot. Where’s your feathered friend gone?” he asked the birds, who just stared back in silence. They rarely made a sound, yet they had a way of looking at him that felt oddly... sentient. They knew something, but Gray couldn’t place it.
He inspected the cage’s lock, his jaw dropping when he saw it dangling, unlatched. He could’ve sworn he’d locked it! The anger flared up as he muttered, “Of course one would escape! My life is one never-ending parade of inconveniences!”
As he began grumbling, “Whoever left this unlocked is about to be—” he was interrupted by a click. A very familiar click. He spun around, eyes widening in disbelief, as he watched his safe door creak open. There, standing right in front of it, was the missing green-cheeked conure, a smug look in her eye and the open lock clasped in her beak. She was just as tall as the safe, clutching his precious paperwork folder in her wing as though she had opposable thumbs.
Gray blinked. “...Now, how in the world did you manage that?” He squinted at her, bending down to her level.
The conure glared right back. She released the padlock, which he snatched up in bewilderment, barely believing what he saw. "Did... you unlock this..?"
Then, the bird did something he never could’ve predicted. “Oui,” she croaked, her voice scratchy but unmistakably... French? Gray’s jaw dropped, his eyes as wide as they’d go. Was he hallucinating? His mind playing tricks?
The conure’s feathers ruffled as she burst into laughter, a scratchy, very parrot-like laugh that rang through the room. “OH, OH, YOU ALL, LOOK AT HIS FACE! LOOK AT THIS OLD MAN'S FACE!” she cackled, her voice still carrying a strong French accent. “HE LOOKS RIDICULOUS!”
Gray stood there, stunned, as the other birds joined in, laughing hysterically from the cage. He blinked, feeling as though he might keel over right then and there. Was this how it ended?
After several minutes of raucous laughter, the green-cheeked conure wiped a tear from her eye. “Ah, magnifique! That took forever to set up, but it was worth it to see that face!” She let the papers fall atop the safe with a dramatic flair.
“A long time? Worth it?” Gray gaped at her, then whipped around to glare at the other birds. “How long have you been able to talk? And why on earth didn’t you tell me?!”
The conure smirked, casually preening a feather. “Just a little joke among us. We wanted to wait for the perfect moment to prank you!” She strutted a bit, still watching him with those glinting eyes. “We pretended to be mindless creatures all this time, just to fool you. Oui, you must admit, it was a masterful plan.”
Gray blinked, then a grin slowly spread across his face. “It... it was genius!” He clapped his hands together in glee. “And you’re the one I injected with the Spy’s DNA! No wonder you have that accent…” He squinted, marveling at the unexpected success of his own strange plan.
The conure nodded, looking rather pleased with herself. “Of course! The French gene is très puissant.” She gave a bow, as if it were the most natural thing. “Although I’d like to think I’m much more intelligent than that man, thanks to your delightful ‘brain juice.’”
Gray had to think for a moment, but yes, he’d injected a bit of his own brain fluid into the birds’ brains. And now, finally, he saw the fruits of his labor. The months of stress and setbacks had all led to this grand reveal. His hard work had paid off—spectacularly, even if it took a practical joke to show it.
Gray straightened up, his grin wider than it had been in ages. “There’s so much to discuss, my little minions... Where do we begin?”
And with that, his amazingly genius plan was officially in motion.
ns 15.158.61.5da2
