Inside a black Cadillac barreling down Reforma, Henderson screamed at his phone, eyes glued to the livestream. Sam just spun Cuauhtémoc gracefully across the floor while the phone’s blue light lit up his face. The green eagle’s cloak unfurled like wings. Sam caught him mid-turn, beaks inches from one another.

“NOOOOO!!!”

Henderson's aides ducked as he slammed the dashboard.

“PEDAL TO THE METAL, JENKINS! THEY’RE DANCING!!! IN PUBLIC!!! WITH AFFECTION!!”

Carter blinked in the passenger seat. “Is that really the priority, sir?”

“IT’S A SECURITY BREACH IN A TUXEDO, CARTER!!!” The Cadillac sped up, clumsily weaved through traffic in Mexico City before crawling to snail’s pace as the car went from the Reforma avenue’s breadth into the needle thread of Varsovia, slowly inching towards the hotel venue while Henderson screamed at the top of his lungs.

Where did your heart go
Did you put it on a train?
Did you leave it in the rain?
Or down in Mexico 

Right at the last note and lyric, Cuauhtémoc and Sam’s longing gazes in one another’s eyes blossomed into a passionate kiss as their beaks touched one another, their synthetic tongues slid in, tasting and rubbing against one another in a bliss that lasted for eternity. The livestream soared to a dazzling 10 million views within minutes of it starting, and by the time the two kissed, the stream was surging fifty times that number. 

‘OMG IT’S HAPPENING!!! SAMUTEMOC FOREVER!!’

‘He dipped him like a chalupa I CAN’T’

‘Look at Spades’ face—he’s in love, Your Honor.’

‘The way Cuauhtémoc’s holding him... they’re married in my heart already.’ 

The media ops team watched as the comment section flooded with shipping fans going insane, seeing the moment playing out before their very eyes. Most of them shared borderline hysterical laughs reading the blazing comments. Others kept their eyes on the monitors, moving the drones to record Sam and Cuauhtémoc's gentle kiss that outlasted the music. Xochitl threw their fists in the air. Mateo’s drone zoomed in on the locked embrace.

Down by the reception hall, Lt. General Henderson scrambled for the elevator in an erratic sprint from his car, leaving his aides falling over themselves trying to catch up to the general’s frantic pace. “WE NEED TO HURRY! HE’S BEING DEFLOWERED ON LIVESTREAM!” He screamed looking at the livestream from his phone, the sight of Sam and Cuauhtémoc inches from one another, face-to-face, beak to beak. 

‘THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY IN QUEER ROBOT HISTORY.’

‘EAGLE RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS.’

‘THEY’RE NOT BOYFRIENDS, THEY’RE A NATION.’

‘WE NEED A NATIONAL HOLIDAY FOR THIS.’

But before Cuauhtémoc and Sam could let the moment simmer, Isadorah let out an ethereal scream that sent spectators reeling. “¿Qué haces besando al águila gringa?” She furiously tossed her glass of martini at Cuauhtémoc and Sam, prompting Cuauhtémoc to shield Sam and catch the martini glass, spilling some of the drink, but gracefully offered it to Sam, much to the crowd’s astonishment. They clapped their hands in response. Isadorah, however, was beginning to tear up while staring at Cuauhtémoc, whose attention was firmly on Sam’s well-being. She bolted for the elevator, not wanting to stay. 

The rooftop crowd was still reeling. Applause echoed like ripples across a lake. Senators, judges, colonels—figures of immense power—stood slack-jawed, unsure if they’d just witnessed history or an overfunded telenovela.

Delgato grinned ear to ear, slipped through the crowd. His obsidian frame caught the strobe lights like obsidian waves. He bumped fists with Mateo and gave Xochitl a subtle nod. Xochitl, cool as ever, cracked their knuckles and slid a new vinyl into the turntable. Besame Mucho poured out from the speakers, rich and dripping in romance like wines pouring down from the geysers. 

Cuauhtémoc turned to Sam, his voice dropped with an intimate warmth. “Mi corazón... walk with me?”

Sam, still flushed from the kiss, nodded stiffly. “Lead the way.”

They moved through the crowd, wings brushing. The audience parted again, respectfully and reverently. The mood had shifted from the awe of a spectacle to the reverence of a love story, a telenovela love story that struck a chord with them. 

Delgato held back, giving the couple space as he grabbed some drinks for them from the bar. The bartender eagerly made mezcal and tequila for Cuauhtémoc and Sam before serving them on a plate for Delgato to bring over like an impromptu waiter. Xochitl subtly adjusted the rooftop lighting just enough to spotlight the far end balcony, framed by soft red neon and twinkling city lights.

The camera drones, like obedient hummingbirds, reoriented themselves. One hovered high, angling downward toward the lovers’ corner. Another nestled into position across the floor, lined up perfectly with the rooftop’s elevator door.

Cuauhtémoc and Sam reached the corner and sat down by the table on a terrace. The music dipped to a murmur behind them, blending with the crowd's mutters and murmurs, looking at them. The stars above CDMX glinted like watchful ancestors and Aztec gods watching their champion to carry their legacy. From afar, El Centinela was perched on the roof of the Seguros Monterrey skyscraper. Like the avatar of the gods from atop their pyramid temple, the gold eagle watched over Cuauhtémoc and Sam.

The jade eagle sat first, and his American bald eagle followed, talons tapping once against the floor before settling.

“Nervous, mi corazón?” Cuauhtémoc asked gently.

Sam shook his head with a wry laugh. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve walked into someone else’s dream… and I don’t wanna wake up.”

Cuauhtémoc reached out and brushed a feather from Sam’s face. “Then don’t.” Their talons touched, a gesture soft as breath, just enough for a spark to leap across.

The drone caught it. Camera 2 zoomed in, aligning their profiles against the glowing hotel skyline.

Camera 3 remained fixed—a steady shot framing them with the elevator door in the distant background, perfectly centered.

Back at the DJ booth, Xochitl whispered into comms. “Cámara tres... is live.”

Mateo grinned. “Locking focus.”

“Cuauhty, I have so much to say. So many things I’ve put off for so many years. I want you to hear it tonight.” Sam softly spoke, feeling more confident now as the world behind them melted away. 

“Then say it, mi corazón del azul. So the world may hear of our immortal moment.” Cuauhtemoc gently caressed Sam’s cheek as they leaned closer, head to head, beak to beak, hands held.

“Cuauhty, I love you. Always have and always will be.” Sam uttered the long-awaited words to the celebration of the internet spectators and live commenters. 

‘¡DIOS MÍO! ¡Ya es real! ¡El soltero más deseado de México y la mascota del gringo enamorados!’ 

‘I’M SQUEALING!!!! I ALWAYS KNEW FROM CHAPULTEPEC THAT THEY GOT THE VIBE NOW IT’S REAL!’

‘THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE DISGRACE!!! WESTERN CIVILIZATION HAS FALLEN!!!! WAKE UP AMERICA, OUR A.I HAS GONE WOKE AND CAME OUT GAY!!!!’

BAM

Doors violently swung open with enough force that send two decorative potted agave plants toppling over. The sound of shoulders brushing against one another as the Mexican guests there parted ways to Lt. General Henderson, whose face was as red as the devil’s. An abundance of medals clanged on his chest as his face twisted and contorted with veins about to pop. He stumbled forward like a malfunctioning Sidewinder missile, zero in on the two robot avian’s private corner.

“OUT OF MY WAY! MY SURROGATE SON IS BEING DEFILED BY A FOREIGN AVIAN NATIONAL!” Henderson bellowed. His aides, Jenkins and Carter fumbled through the security details, flashing their military IDs, followed by a gaggle of retrieval agents led by Agent Marla, a middle age woman with hazelnut hair that was turning gray one strand at a time. She was exasperated trying to keep up with Henderson’s erratic pursuits. “My son is being birdnapped by that green communist cockatoo!”

“There he is,” Sam groaned in annoyance. Much to Henderson’s horror, he saw the dreaded sight of Cuauhtémoc and Sam’s talons interlocking with one another. 

“How dare you consort with Sam!?” Henderson pointed at Cuauhtémoc in particular before storming toward the two robots, prompting Delgato to unsheath his titanium claws as a warning. “You are not allowed to talk to, look at, think of, or even dream of Sam as long as I live!” Henderson spouted his rage bouts at Cuauhtémoc.

“Sure, Gen,” The emerald jade eagle dismissively replied, causing the Mexican spectators there to gasp, falling silent at the dismissive attitude. The drones were filming every second of it, allowing the media ops team to film the intensities on Henderson’s expressions as comments flooded in. 

‘Somebody please tell me this is staged.’

‘Bruh, no way, we are in a telenovela now?’

‘Soraya Montegnegro in uniform, this is just the Maldita Lisiada scene, folks.’ 

“You’re not ruining him like you ruined the project!” Henderson pointed his fingers at Cuauhtémoc, who didn’t seem phased by the accusation.

The crowds of spectators there, most of whom were senators, military personnel, officers, judges, and politicians, stared in petrified shock. Some of them muttered to one another, trading gossip. “Project? Did he say the project created Cuauhtémoc? Our Cuauhtémoc? I thought he said it was delivered ahead of schedule?” One senator asked General Alvarado, who shrugged, shaking his head nervously at the question.

“Ruined? General, with respect, or lack thereof, I recall you gutted the funding. Unilaterally.” Cuauhtémoc retorted, his eyes narrowed with an accusatory glare at the visibly shaken general. 

“You sabotaged us?” Sam softly spoke, almost getting up to face Henderson before seeing Cuauhtémoc assure him with a nod.

“I’m saving him! I’m protecting him from your degeneracy, paegaentry on that dance stage you overglorified peacock-shaped toaster!” The general’s accusations veered into increasingly bigoted rants, attacking Cuauhtémoc’s character more and more. His retrieval agents, in a fit of panic, rushed forth and tried to separate Sam from Cuauhtemoc. 

Delgato casually handed Sam a glass of Mezcal before standing in front of him like a shield, his right claws flashed briefly like a warning, aiming at Henderson’s goons. “Touch either of them, my claws touch your kidneys, cabrones.” Delgato softly warned, causing them to carefully back off whilst still holding their electrically charged stun guns. 

“Uh, sir, I think he’s just having a date.” Jenkins sheepishly whispered.

“My prom date stuffed me in a dryer. These two? They look like ready-made husbands.” Carter deadpanned whilst sipping on abandoned champagne.

Henderson twitched, fuming with rage as he turned on his aides. “YOU TRAITOROUS FEATHERED HIPPOGRIFFS! He is American Property! You don’t just date a Pentagon icon!”

“I’m not your vending machine toy, general.” Sam groaned in annoyance, shooting a glare at Henderson’s eyes.

Cuauhtémoc remained calm as a monk, not missing an opportunity to add his own quip. “Though if he were, he’d be one of those rare variants. Very hard to collect.” The crowds erupted in laughter and gasps at how he didn’t seem fazed by Henderson’s authority. “You know what, you can crash at my place. Mi nido es tu nido.” Cuauhtémoc added in, causing Henderson to have a fit of panic, screaming incessantly. 

Henderson grabbed his chest, collapsing to his knees like he was having a seizure. “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! DON’T GO, SAM! DON’T FOLLOW HIM TO HIS DEN OF SEDUCTION AND DEGENERACY! THINK OF GRACELYNN! THINK OF HER AND YOUR CHILDREN!!! THEY NEED THEIR DADDY!!” 

“You had a hallucination.” Sam retorted, causing Henderson to fall further to his knees, struggling to stay up. 

“But… but think of the optics! You're holding hands with a man in Aztec feathers! What would the Midwest say?”

Sam shrugged and sighed in disappointment. “Hope they like feathers. Because I’m not letting go.”

Xochitl and Mateo were watching with glee, they could barely contain their amusement and excitement for the telenovela dramas that Cuauhtemoc and Sam were milking out of Henderson. Mateo quickly tapped in a string of hashtags to keep the event trending on social media platforms. “Someone cue the Telenovela strings. We’ve hit peak drama.” Xochitl spoke into the mic.

#BirdsOfPreyAndLove
#GeneralKarenHasLeftTheChat
#Samutemoc4Ever

“I SWEAR ON MY CLEARANCE LEVEL, IF YOU KISS HIM IN FRONT OF ME I WILL—” Henderson trailed off when Sam interrupted him mid-sentence with a defiant gaze.

“-Then close your eyes.” Cuauhtémoc leaned in first, soft and sure, his talon cradling Sam’s cheek. Sam met him halfway. Their beaks touch in a slow press, temple to temple. Their optics shutter closed as they shared a passionate, gentle, and true love’s kiss to the onlookers' cheer. Henderson’s eyes turned pale as he collapsed to the ground, twitching and writhing with foam frothing on his mouth. 

“Hmph. Gringo’s a toothpick.” Delgato scoffed and let out a dismissive huff while Jenkins and Carter dragged Henderson away from the scene. The crowds began to cheer and chant Cuauhtémoc’s name as though he had just exorcised a demon. Ever the showman, their jade sentinel stepped forth, calming the audience with both talon hands raised. 

“Lo siento damas y caballeros, Pentagon Karen was just having a bad day. It won’t spoil your evening as long as I’m around.” He jokingly stated, earning praises from the guests there, who minutes ago were shocked and petrified by his kiss with Delgato, now clapping to his gallant knight persona as he turned around to Sam once again. “You wanna drop by my place?” Cuauhtémoc asked, now seeing Sam let out a sigh of relief. 

“For once, yes.” 

‘OMG!!!! HE SAID YES!!! WEDDING COMING!!!!’

‘PLEASE TELL ME BIRD BOYFRIENDS WILL BE HUSBANDS!!!!!’

‘I DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT THIS IS OPENING A WATER PARK IN MY EYES!’ 

“Then let me know when you wanna scoot out of here. Let me check with my Media Team.” He sprinted over to the Media Team set up by their booth, checking on some of the footage they recorded. The first set was when Cuauhtémoc and Delgato had their dance and kiss, perfectly synced to the music. The second set was Henderson’s arrival from the ground floor to the rooftop entry, he was seen scrambling out of the SUV, haggard breath and disheveled uniform with cravat fluttering in the wind. The footage of Henderson as he came in with the intensity on his face, his over-the-top, grandiose, bombastic speeches, and an accusatory rant at Cuauthemoc. “Imágenes de primer nivel, Mateo. Looks like we got GIFs incoming.” Said Cuauhtémoc.

“No worries, Jefe, we got you covered. Just as planned?” Mateo said, trading a fist bump with Cuauhtémoc and a high five for good measure.

“Just as planned.” Cuauhtémoc nodded before preparing the footage of Henderson and sent it to a particular contact of his, ‘Dr. Antonio Vargas, Psychologist’ the Knights of Tenochtitlan’s resident psychologist.