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Birds of Prey - Chapter 2

~ White Room - Part 1 ~

Call of Duty x Harpy fic

Johnny had no clue how long he was out for. While he was unconscious, the only thing he could feel was the vague idea that he was in fact not dead.

He had no memory. Only the fleeting sense of ‘now’ that was then washed away on a cloud of forgotten thoughts. He didn’t know who he was. Where he was. Why he wasn’t dead.

He was in this state for god knows how long, but… eventually he did begin to stir.

* * * *

When Johnny first opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a horrific, painful, stark white light. He blinked a few times, unable to move the rest of his body - as if in sleep paralysis - then opted to close his eyes again and wait.

Eventually he felt sensation in his fingers again. He could move his arms ever so slightly. His wings. His legs. His claws. He prematurely attempted to get up, which resulted in his arms wobbling and giving in.

He had only gotten a few centimetres off the ground, but thudded back onto it. The pain was intense, made worse by the smooth, rock solid floor beneath him. He let out a pitiful whine, then sunk back into unconsciousness.

This cycle repeated itself over and over, and Johnny would always forget it had even happened. All he knew was the room too white for his eyes, the floor too smooth and flat to be comfortable, pain beyond imagination, confusion, and a general lack of his muscles obeying his weak commands.

Finally Awake.

It took a long time. A long process of repeating and forgetting a painful cycle. Johnny had somehow managed to move himself all the way into a corner, with his face facing a sheer wall. Finally, he was able to open his eye and keep it open.

What he saw just confused him even more.

He wasn’t in grasslands, which he vaguely remembered by colour and texture.

His surroundings were unnatural. Man made. Human. This made him scared.

Finally his muscles obeyed him when he told them to get the hell up. He pushed himself onto his elbows and looked around, adjusting his eye to the bright lights and sheer walls.

He was in some kind of white-walled man made cave. The walls were paved with white tiles, as was the floor. The roof had four bright lights beaming down onto him. The only thing that was different about the room was a set of metal bars trapping him in.

Poachers…

That was the first thing that came to his mind. He’d been shot. He’d been captured. He’d lost. He was only here until he truly died.

He didn’t have the energy to break down over it.

He knew it was inevitable.

Johnny managed to stay awake for a while. He let his body wake up and tried to get his brain to wake up too, but it was hard. He noticed wraps covering his face, obscuring one of his eyes, and around his body too.

Eventually he began to move. The best he could do was crawl on all fours to the bars, grabbing a hold of them and trying to pull them. Of course, this did absolutely nothing.

He rested his cheek against the freezing bars, letting out a breath and a small whine. Here he stayed, until he heard footsteps.

At the sound of those steps, he edged away from the bars and rested back on his elbows again. His eyes turned to the floor, looking no higher than the feet of the man who came passed and stopped at the bars.

But these were no human feet.

They were Harpy feet.

“You’re awake? Good-!”

His language. A Harpy was on the other side of the bars. Not a human. Johnny looked up and saw a well kept Harpy man, dressed in modified human clothing. He was looking down at Johnny with his ear feathers perked happily, wings tucked neatly at his sides.

Johnny didn’t speak.

He just moved backwards, away from the bars. He was still in danger…

[stinkbugarchives]

Birds of Prey - Chapter 1

~ Led by a BlueJay - Part 4 ~

Call of Duty x Harpy fic

The Onslaught

Oh how unprepared Johnny and his birds were for the spring.

Weeks and weeks of no attacks made them feel safer. They felt as though the attacks had stopped now that the poachers had killed and been killed. They allowed themselves to drop their guard.

As spring came, the snow began to melt and the warmth began to seep through the clouds again. Harpies began to emerge more from their nests and sun themselves on the dry, warm grasses.

Eggs were laid.

Hatchlings were born.

Food was in abundance.

Johnny’s flock began to truly flourish. They were happy.

The attacks stayed away for almost the entire Spring, but as the summer approached, Johnny started to notice things.

Small flying machines surveying their lands. Lone humans creeping around their castles, setting up machines in the grasses. Encroaching on their space.

Johnny should’ve done something. But instead, he just watched, along with his sentries. Then, silence. No machines. No humans.

Johnny was once again growing used to calm days with no worries other than occasional squabbles between his flock. Never too serious.

He liked it like this. He dropped his guard.

Dropping his guard quickly became the worst decision he had ever made.

A calm day, filled with sun rays and the occasional cloud drifting ahead. The grasses were dry. Fish, birds, and insects were out in droves. His flock was well fed.

Johnny was lying on a flat area of the castle home base, his wings spread beautifully over the rocks and mosses. The sun warmed him up. Loosened his muscles. Relaxed him.

He didn’t expect an attack on this day.

Johnny groaned as he rolled over onto his back. He stretched for a minute before he heard a strange whirring sound above him. His ears pricked, and his eyes opened to see those strange metal birds that seemed to survey his land.

He let out a small warning whistle, then dodged out of the way of something being dropped near him. He edged closer on all fours. The object was green, ridged and very clearly man made. Like a rock. But too perfect.

He wasn’t close to it, thank the gods, because if Johnny had gotten closer, he may not have survived.

Boom.

The rock - a grenade set off by a drone above him - had exploded, sending Johnny flying off the castle walls and thudding to the ground. His vision bled white and patchy, his hearing gone.

All of his Harpies were alerted. They screeched in terror as more of these explosives went off. Johnny lost consciousness, but regained it again only to see the castle he called home crumbling to the ground.

There absolutely would’ve been casualties under those falling rocks.

Around him was chaos. Harpies running, being gunned down, attempting to fight, losing. The smell of blood made the air thick. The poachers had brought an army. The poachers were winning.

Johnny got up, a new sense of rage filling him. He could smell his own blood, but didn’t care where it was coming from. Adrenaline coursed through him, and he let out a battle cry - a summon for his birds to charge.

A summon to their deaths.

Johnny fought. He killed humans with his own hands, retreated, then pushed forward again. He sustained injuries, most of which were flesh wounds. He was painfully aware of the fact that his flock was losing.

His breaking point, however, was when he retreated a third time and saw there, laying beside the rocks, his own right hand man.

Roach was below him. Dead. His jaw shot clean off his face.

His heart fell.

He looked around him, seeing the masses of dead.

The best they could do now, was run.

So he called for the retreat.

And was met with a bullet in his head.

Johnny thudded to the ground, hearing the loudest noise, a grating, painful ringing that soon feathered out into complete silence and unconsciousness.

Johnny had failed.

His flock was led by a Blue Jay - into its demise.

[stinkbugarchives]

Birds of Prey - Chapter 1

~ Led by a BlueJay - Part 3~

Call of Duty x Harpy fic

Despite days of trying to keep the newcomer heron Harpy sister alive, the wounds and infections from them ended up taking her life. For weeks, the last sister grieved, then ended up deciding to stay within the flock.

She did not blame Johnny for the death of her sister.

She was doomed either way.

Johnny grieved this loss too. Every time someone died under his care, he would grieve like he’d lost his own family. However, he had to persist with his leadership.

A new threat loomed.

A worse one.

The Poachers -

As Johnny’s flock grew in size over the years of his leadership, so too did his reputation. So too did the bounty on his body.

There was a small but ever-growing threat towards Harpies, and a quickly building market for their feathers, bones, claws, and blood. Poachers made good money off a single kill.

This was why the Blue Jay’s flock was such a treasure trove.

A single Harpy produced around eighty to a hundred large flight feathers, each worth hundreds if kept in perfect condition. Rich folk enjoyed decorating their houses with the feathers of Harpies.

Harpy claws and teeth were often made into trophies or jewellery once again selling in the hundreds.

Blood, however, was increasingly sought after. Used in medicine, it seemed to increase people’s health and longevity.

These together resulted in an increase of poaching of the few remaining wild Harpies. This was why the amount of newcomers into Johnny’s flock was slowing down more and more.

Soon, the newcomers stopped.

Soon, the poachers decided to try their luck on the mega-flock.

The First Attacks

No one ever called the Poachers smart.

The first time they tried to attack, they did so in broad daylight. Johnny, who was always either on guard duty or hunting and gathering, saw the Poachers pass him on the river, their eyes set on the castle he called home.

A screech from Johnny brought a mass of Harpies on these poachers and had them downed within mere seconds. Johnny approached these bodies after the slaughter and inspected their weapons.

Guns. Bullets. Strong and sturdy. Pieces of machinery that transported the voices of humans over long distances. Each one of these he crushed with his bare hands, growling angrily at the prospect.

The first attack made him all the more protective.

He guarded at night, taking sleeping shifts with Roach so there was a 24 hour watch on their lands. The next attack wasn’t for a few weeks.

Each attack resulted in massive loss for the poachers, the harpies staying strong in their flock. Not a single casualty made Johnny proud of himself and his birds.

However, the first casualty rocked Johnny to his core.

Once again, it was raining in the highlands. Less rain, a more sleeting snow. Thick. Cold. Muddy. Not many birds were out, but some of the water birds were. These were some of the last opportunities they’d get before the snow really set in.

Johnny was watching over groups of mudbathing and relaxing Harpies, when he heard a loud bang through the rolling fields. Panic ensued. Harpies rushing towards home base, more bangs. Johnny tried to identify where these came from but failed.

The most he could do was send out a warning cry and gather his harpies into their dens.

Morning came.

The bodies of the dead were no longer there. The blood had been washed away by snow, leaving only bullet casings and puffs of torn feathers half dug into the earth and grasses. Three had fallen that day. One of which was the remaining Heron sister, who had just gotten comfortable with her place in his flock.

Johnny grieved this. He grieved hard. But his grief was overcome by a protective anger. His guard was increased. He trained the younger fledglings earlier.

The winter months went by with no attacks.

The spring brought the onslaught.

[stinkbugarchives]

Birds of Prey - Chapter 1

~ Led by a BlueJay - Part 2~

Call of Duty x Harpy fic

The Heron Sisters

A rainy day on the highlands meant that the harpies all sought the shelter of the castle they called their home base. Whether it was in rooms with functional roofs or underground in basements or nests they’d dug themselves, they huddled up with their families and mates to wait out the wetness.

Water bird harpies thrived in this weather, dancing along the waterlogged grasses and singing their traditional rain songs, shaking the water out of their wings as it cleaned their feathers.

Johnny, of course, was perched on one of the towers keeping a lookout on his beloved flock members. His eyes would travel from the Harpies dancing and bathing below to the grasses and horizon that he could see through the rain.

Johnny liked the rain. It made it far easier to smell things he could not see. Though it did shock him when he closed his eyes and smelled blood and fear on the horizon. His ear feathers perked. He sent out a shrill warning signal that warned his flock-mates to come back to safety, and outstretched his wings to become more visible on the tower he was on.

His second in command, Roach, approached him, making the same threatening action.

“What is it, Johnny?”

Johnny stayed silent, watching the horizon and soon spotting the source of the scent. Just two harpies. Moving incredibly slow. Far too slow. They were injured.

“Come, Roach. They need our help.”

Roach nodded and followed Johnny down the tower and to the grass below. Johnny had already run off towards the two injured Harpies, and as he approached, he crouched onto all fours to slow down and show he was no threat.

Johnny’s eyes were attentive, scanning the newcomers for injuries immediately. He didn’t need to look for long. Gashes and severe bite wounds cut through the skin of these poor Harpies. Two female herons, almost identical in looks and smell. Sisters.

These sisters looked down at Johnny with begging eyes. One was stronger and less injured than the other. The other was barely awake.

“Come. Come. Roach, help them. Meet me back at home base. I will be at the medical nest. Take the time they need.”

* * * * *

With the Heron sisters patched up, one asleep and one shivering in the corner of the nest that was prepared for them, Johnny felt as if he could finally relax.

It was nearing the end of the day, and the rain had eased almost fully, so Johnny’s flock was emerging from their nests to lap up the last rays of sunlight before they’d all huddle in the courtyard. Johnny came out with the new Heron addition and made his way with her to the centre of the communion.

He sat, and invited her to sit too. Everyone was looking at them. Silent. When she had settled, Johnny began to calmly ask her questions.

“What happened to result in those wounds, friend?”

A few seconds of silence, then she spoke up.

“Our flock was travelling along the river line to find yours. We had lost a majority of our flock to disease and couldn’t survive alone anymore. While we were travelling, we noticed we were being followed. A loner. He must’ve felt unsafe. Or we thought so…”

“We were settling down to sleep for the night… but woke up to the sounds of bones breaking. He killed one of my flockmates before he could even scream for help… and… he started to eat him…”

“My sister- she… she got so angry. She launched onto him. But he was twice her size. He was rabid. Big, grey wings. He looked like an apocalypse. He was frantic. Angry. Salivating. We had to run and leave him to consume the dead flock mate. He was a cannibal.”

A Harpy eating other harpies… the thought disgusted Johnny.

But he’d heard of these cannibals before. When a Harpy got a taste of Harpy flesh, whether out of starvation or pure circumstance, it would infect them like a drug. All other foods became vile and unable to be eaten. They were filled with a rabid rage. They would kill for desperation, then they would kill for sport and gorge on the flesh of the dead.

It was scary.

Johnny thought for a few minutes. He had a flock to protect. If cannibalistic Harpies found them, they would feast.

He looked to some of his more trained sentries - the guards that kept a watch over the flock.

“Are any of the fledglings ready for training yet?”

One nodded. “A few. Not all.”

Johnny nodded back. He acknowledged his entire flock with an announcement.

“I will be making some changes, in order to protect this flock further. None of this is because of imminent threat, but it is preventative. We need a food stock. Down deep where the ground is ice cold. We need to train for defence. I will double the guards. Any threats will be neutralised.”

As per usual, his words were met with gleeful agreement. His flock trusted him completely. His flock would be safe under his command.

They would, at least, until the poachers came.

[stinkbugarchives]

Birds of Prey - Chapter 1

~ Led by a BlueJay - Part 1~

Call of Duty x Harpy fic

In the culture of the Harpy, dedication, selflessness, and effort are rewarded with extreme respect. Hunting for more than just yourself, collecting resources for the flock, learning to heal others, taking care of the younger and the older.

Acts like these is what made Johnny so very loved within his flock.

As a Juvenile, he learned to hunt and forage and fish exceptionally fast. He would run his caught meals back to their flock meeting place and give it happily to the elders, his tail feathers waggling from side to side in pure excitement about helping his flock. The elders adored this little bundle of joy.

Whenever a Harpy was sick or injured, Johnny would be the first to volunteer to go out and gather resources. He was later trained to dress wounds and make poultices out of herbs and plants he would find. He discovered by himself how to make lures to more effectively catch fish and capture animals for food.

As Johnny grew into a fine young adult, he became one of the most valued members of the flock. He moved from Hunter and Healer, up to a role of Sentry, up to a role of Deputy and Leader Guard. Still, he hunted and provided for the flock more than anyone. The younger Harpies all wanted to be like Johnny.

When Johnny was in his twenties - still incredibly young for a Harpy - his leader died due to an illness that he couldn’t fix despite all his efforts. He was grief stricken, and tried his best to stand down and overwork himself as an apology for what he saw as a ‘failure’.

However, all he found was that the flock would pick him back up. They would preen his feathers as a sign of respect. They’d bow their heads to him as he passed. They would bring offerings to his nest and clean it for him whenever he would hunt. These were all actions of a flock catering to their leader.

Johnny had taken on the role of leader, despite being young and inexperienced. Despite failing to save the previous leader. The flock didn’t care. The flock adored him, and there was no one better suited to fit the role of ruler than Johnny himself.

For ten long years, Johnny led his flock. Their population grew from just over a hundred to just under two hundred. He took in strays. He merged flocks that were dying out to take them under his wing. A reputation was built that this was the safest flock to be in, so everyone wanted in.

At night time, the Harpies would sit around Johnny. He would be in the centre of a large circle of feathers, warmed by their own body heat and the walls of the large abandoned castle they called their ‘home base’. The walls of this castle created a perfect guard from threats and often provided mice and rats as treats for hungry birds.

Their meeting space was in the courtyard of this castle. Overrun by grasses that were flattened by days of use into a soft field for sitting and sleeping, it made a perfect place to listen to and tell stories. And with 200 birds in his flock, there were hundreds of stories to be told.

Every time his flock grew in size, Johnny learned more about why these flocks were dying.

Poachers.

Cannibalistic Harpies.

Disease.

All were threats that were growing in danger and status. Johnny wanted insight on all of them.

Part 2 coming later today

[stinkbugarchives]

- BIRDS OF PREY -

- HARPY AU -

Disclaimer -

I am still doing a comic of this story, but I would also love to write it at the same time. I want to test my limits. I want to delve into the lore. I want to write a real, threadless story which I cannot do on Twitter. Here, you will see how I *really* write.

Clearly, as you can see, Twitter will still see this. Screenshots of it to make it readable while not having to leave the app. However, if you want to read it here I’ll link it somewhere.

So, I hope you enjoy this. I love feedback. I love comments telling me how you like the story. This will motivate me to draw more. Storytelling is my niche.

Thank you for your constant support <3

Prelude: Harpy Taxonomy and Simon and Johnny!

In the Birds of Prey Universe, Harpies are mostly humanoid creatures with feathered arms and large wings that allow flight depending on their bird species. Their species are based off real birds. If their real bird counterparts cannot fly, they also cannot fly.

Harpies are larger than humans. The smallest (Jays, Sparrows) are 2 metres tall, the largest (Vultures, Eagles) can be well over four metres tall. They live off diets of meat, fish, insects, and berries.

Chicken harpies tend to eat rocks.

No one ever called them smart.

***

Due to their build, Harpies cannot fly long distances. Their chest muscles are not built enough for that. They can glide, they can launch themselves, they can fly short distances or ride thermal updrafts. Their arm and leg feathers and their tails assist with this flight.

They fight with talons on their fingers and toes, and have the muscle of a StrongMan to assert their dominance. They are often flock dwellers, and are highly social and caring beings.

- Johnny and Simon -

Below is a simple concept for Johnny and Simon in this AU. I will not be explaining too much, as I want you to figure things out as the story goes along.

Simon is a Harpy Eagle Harpy. Big. Strong. Battle tattered. He has heterochromatic (homophobic /j) eyes and a semi-permanent scowl. He is a lone bird. A rare one.

Johnny is a social butterfly, a Blue Jay Harpy with a boisterous attitude and a strong sense of command. He adores nothing more than to help his flock-mates.

Thank you for reading. I cast Good Day onto all who have read this far. Chapter 1 will be out soon.