I used my power to control every movement. I felt it accelerate again, and tilted our orientation.
Niiice. It doesn’t know how to fly, so Taylor micromanages it. She acts as the brains of the operation.
I felt myself shift slightly as I found myself almost directly on top, my legs gripping the underside of his thorax, and I overcompensated. We both crashed to the ground. A ten or twelve foot drop for me.
My armor absorbed the worst of the impact, but I felt my forehead hit pavement. I always thought of the concussion I’d suffered whenever I took a blow to the head.
Not something you’re eager to go through again, I’d imagine.
“Come on!” I growled the words, scrambling to my feet. “Don’t be hurt, don’t be hurt.”
He was okay. I could examine him with my power, I just couldn’t comprehend him in the same natural, instinctive manner.
Well, at least she seems to have decided a gender for him.
It took attention, focus. With my direction, he used a flutter of his wings and the points of his scythe-tipped claws to flip over so he was ready as I reached him. I mounted him and tried again. We repeated the takeoff process, faster this time.
Let’s do this thing!
We lifted off on the first try. I controlled my breathing, focused my attention on him, tried to avoid that same reflexive compensation that came with a shift of my balance.
When I account for the wing compartments and the amount of space that the wings take up at the back of the shell, He’s not much bigger than a motorcycle.
A flying motorcycle. I’m torn between Harry Potter and Ghost Rider.
Upon further research, it seems Ghost Rider bikes don’t actually fly, so Harry Potter it is.
*pictures Taylor being tasked with delivering Harry’s Hogwarts letter and birthday cake on the fusion bug*