Hola.
Thus be Jo.

So, we've now told you the story of how we found out we were recombinant DNA freaks of nature (actually, not nature, science--freaks of science). What happened next? How did we come to be here, in Montana? And why are we on the run from the scientists who created us?

All in good time, my friends.

So, my story of growing up was much the same as Aeron's, except that my wings grew out at an earlier age, when I was four. I had gone to a private kindergarten program, but when my wings started to grow, my "parents" decided it was too much of a risk, and began homeschooling me.
They told me part of the truth, but not all of it. They told me I was special like this because of some things some "doctors" did to me (true). They told me that I had a small amount of raptor DNA grafted onto my human DNA (true). They told me that the scientist might have to take me and test me every now and then, but that they loved me no matter what I looked like, and that I was their daughter, regardless (true? I really don't know anymore). They lied to me, however, about the fact that my whole life was a test to see how I could make it in the outside world. To see if I would figure out the truth, find the person (Aeron) they had planted nearby, and what I/we would do if/when we found the truth.

Well, the first thing we did was fly to the Netherlands, like I said.
It only took us a couple of days. We were uspet/excited enough that we didn't really care about taking off without telling anyone, crossing the Antlantic, and messing around in a foreign country. It seemed necessary, adventurous. And we had so many notes to compare.

We realized, then, how slim the chances were of two people in our situations meeting up just by, like, fate or karma or some junk like that. It had been planned. Obviously. I mean, come on, evil scientists, try not to make it so okking obvious. Make it a little challenging, eh? I guess they thought we were retarded as well, wouldn't connect the dots.

Well, we did. And we were MAD. I mean, any chance of a normal life? Gone, baby. Kiss it goodbye. Going to prom? No low-backed dress. Vistiting another country (legally)? If it requires shots, no way, baby. 1st, we don't got normal blood. The red blood cells have DNA, unlike normal human blood cells. 2nd, get us in a hospital gown, and Dude, look at that! Chick's got feathers on her back! Gettin' married? Oh, darling, I should tell you something before this gets any more serious: I'm a mutant freak, and our child probably won't be normal.

Yeah, so we were pretty P.O.'ed. And we didn't really know what we wanted, but we knew we wanted to kick some stupid scientist butt. So we flew back home (you have NO IDEA how okking huge the Atlantic Ocean is till you're flying over it on adrenaline alone). And we went to my house first. I was still mad. MAD. Because I realized they'd been lying to me. About a lot of things. And we/I sort of demanded answers. And they gave me this crap about loving me and they still wanted to protect me but there was no other way and this was all to further the noble cause of science and blah, blah, BLAH. I just couldn't take it anymore.

I grabbed some stuff from my room, and we took off. I haven't seen my "parents" since.

We went to Aeron's house next, but that's her story to tell. It wasn't pretty, I'll tell you that.

We left. Immediately. As in, that night. We slept at the Greyhound station. I had about 500 bucks I'd saved from birthdays and Christmas, and Aeron had some dough, too. So in the morning, we took a bus to wherever seemed like a cool place for rebellious, angry, nine-year-old freaks on the run from their lie of a life.

New Yawk, New Yawk.

I gotta tell you, that place is amazing. The lights, the noise, the guys selling designer knock-offs on street corners, the beautiful people colors--it's addictive. I mean, we were MUTANT FREAKS, for pity's sake, and we didn't even break the flow in Manhattan. We were just part of the crowd, and nobody cared where we were from.

We slept in Central park that night. New York's got some pretty comfortable benches.

Girls Got Game.

(sorry, random outburst. Better get used to them.)

So, I know, you're goin' "Wait, these chicks are nine, and they're sleeping in Central Park? Alone? At night? Dude, aren't they scared?"

And I could give you this whole speech about what a sexist pig comment that is, and that C.H.I.A. chicks have incredible abilities, and that we are bird-kids who were created to kick butt, but I won't.

Because the truth is Heck yeah, we were scared.

But going back was worse.

And this is really as far as I can go tonight, because I am dead tired.

Happy 2008, everybody. Keep reading. Help us stay alive another year.

Save the birdkids. Save the world.