This is my second fanfic ever, this time about the downfall of Nigel's acting career, and him joining up with the poachers.

Chapter One: White Fire

He started to gloat. Just a few more obstacles, and Sergio Sargasso would be home free. Not even Nigel would be able to stop him. He just needed to cross that border into Paraguay, and he'd be forever freed from Brazilian jurisdiction.

He crashed through another police roadblock. The reinforced grill on the front of his Hummer didn't even budge. In fact, nothing of it did. Being a crimelord, Sergio had his whole car reinforced to handle any situation. Armored plating, bulletproof glass, nitrous system, the works. The bottom of the car wasn't reinforced, though. To maintain the Hummer's balance, they actually had to remove some of the protective plating. This left many weak spots, but Sergio didn't care, since who would be able to get underneath a speeding Hummer? It was locked up tight and guarded all the time when it wasn't moving. But it was moving now, and though Nigel was good, but even that surely had to be beyond his capabilities.

Sadly, Sergio was right. Tried as he might, Nigel tried to assault the car from various angles, but to no avail. Bulletproof windows and armored plating were beyond his ability to breach, and trying to get underneath the car would be plain suicide. Sergio was moments away from winning, as he only had a few miles left to go to cross the border. The man who was responsible for the fire that left thousands of yards of Rio's rainforest in ashes and millions of wildlife animals killed or homeless was about to get away with it. Animals that Nigel had sworn to protect. He was running out of time. If Sergio escaped, he could rebuild his gang in another country and resume his criminal activities there. But what could Nigel possibly do?

Then an crazy idea popped into Nigel's mind. He was briefed about Sergio's car being vulnerable at the bottom, but didn't know how to use it to his advantage. Until now. He quickly glanced around at the several rocks strewn about. He was looking for one that wasn't too large and not too small. Picking one up to his liking, he flapped his wings as hard as he could to get some distance out in front of the car. Sergio looked up at as Nigel was passing him by. "Ave burra(1)," he thought. "Is he trying to attack me with rocks now? He must be getting desperate!" The thought strengthened his resolve to reach the border.

"Now or never!" Nigel thought to himself. He dropped the rock on the road. Merely a moment later, Sergio drove over it and sent the rock flying. Nigel hoped his plan would work.

And it did, at least part of it. The rock was catapulted hard enough to strike the one of the fuel tank's pipes, and poked a hole in it. Fuel now gushed from the hole, leaving a trail of it on the asphalt, exactly what Nigel hoped for. He landed at the start of the trail, in his claws a piece of scrap metal from a police car Sergio busted through earlier. If this didn't work, Nigel could never show his face in Brazil again. He'd only be known as the one who let the most dangerous criminal of the decade escape.

He put the scrap metal on top of the fueltrail. With his razor sharp beak, he struck it with such a force, a large spark birthed from it, setting the fuel afire. Given the amount of fuel spilled, the fire rushed after Sergio's car, faster than it was driving. Nigel smiled.

The border was in sight. Sergio could almost taste his victory. He was so caught up in his euphoria, he didn't bother to look in his rear-view mirror to see a trail of fire catching up to him. It reached him just a few yards before the border.

The car exploded in a huge ball of fire. The ring leader of the already decimated Arara Maluca(2) Syndicate was no more.

Nigel saw the explosion from a distance. His sworn enemy was defeated, the loss of the rainforest and its inhabitants avenged. Smiling, he turned around and moved towards the arriving law enforcement units.

"Aaaaaand cut! That's a wrap!" the director yelled through his megaphone. The whole crew started applauding, the hard work of filming the season finale of "Fly Hard" coming to an end. Nigel himself flew up and onto the arm of his agent. The fierce white cockatoo was a magnificent example of his species. Underneath the dirt from the scene he just did, his long and elegant feathers were as white as mountain snow. His crest was a smooth yellow. He was truly a sight to behold.

"As always, superb job, Nigel!" he said. "Nothing better to end a season with a big bang. Everyone everywhere will want to see this!" Nigel squawked in glee, or at least his agent thought he was. In reality, Nigel was saying: "Of course they will, you idiot! They will just because I'm in it! There isn't a bird anywhere else that even comes close to my talent. Now take me to my trailer, and clean me up. There's dust all over my feathers!"

As his agent did just that as if he could hear him, Nigel was lost in thought over how much fame and fortune he'd receive from this season of his television show. "Ah, I can't wait to rake in all the glory once again! Interviews, late night show appearances, publicity and of course, the ladies. How I do love the attention from the ladies... One look from me, and they're like snow melting in the su-YEOWTCH!" He turned around with a menacing look towards his agent, whom while grooming him, accidentally pulled out a tailfeather. Nigel started squawking vigorously at him, probably shouting several obscenities. The agent hurried to get out of the trailer if he had any hopes to leave with all his fingers intact. "Incompetent fool..."

A week after the finale had aired, Nigel and his agent were invited to the studio headquarters where his show is always filmed. "No doubt to offer another contract for another season," Nigel thought confidently. "They'll have to add another zero to the numbers though. Imported Indonesian fruits are expensive."

Arriving at the office of the company manager, the agent talked to the secretary. "Hi there, the greatest avian actor in the world and his agent, here to see Mr. Borges." The secretary looked at them with her eyes above her glasses, as if she wasn't impressed at all. "Right. One moment please." She pushed the button on the intercom next to her. "Mr Borges? Nigel and his agent are here to see you." A voice through the intercom responded: "Thank you, Miss Torres. Send them in." She gestured at the office doors.

Mr. Borges' office was massive. It had a view that looked over the better part of Rio de Janeiro, and also a part of the favela. The floor was made out of dark green marble, and across the otherwise white room, several pillars spread. Lush plants filled up every corner. On the walls were pictures of Mr. Borges shaking hands with celebrities, and framed posters of all the successful TV-shows and movies the company had created or sponsored. Nigel couldn't help but notice that "Fly Hard" wasn't among them.

Mr. Borges himself was a very fancy man. He was in his mid 50s, slightly balding and wore a set of rectangular specs. The custom tailored suit he wore every day was dry cleaned every other day, and on his desk was an original Cuban cigar sitting in a marble ashtray, right next to a shot glass filled with tequila. "He could do with losing a few pounds, though," Nigel thought to himself.

The agent sat himself in one of the leather chairs before Mr. Borges' desk, while Nigel hopped on the one next to it. Mr. Borges couldn't shake the thought of Nigel possibly damaging a very expensive chair with his bare claws, at least for now. "I'm glad you could make it, because I have an important matter to discuss with you," he started. Nigel already started to smirk. "Of course you do. You're going to offer me another 25-episode season of "Fly Hard". What else could we possibly be here for?" As if his agent could read minds: "I've got a pretty good idea. You want to record another season of "Fly Hard", right?" "Yes, indeed," Mr. Borges answered. Nigel started looking out the window when he heard that. With the money he'd make from this next season, he was going to buy a penthouse with a view like this. Maybe even a better one. "But not with Nigel."

The image of a view on Rio in his mind shattered, as if someone threw a boulder through a window. "Without me? What in the world is he talking about?" he yelled, sounding to everyone else as a unsettling squawk. Mr. Borges elaborated: "I hate to break it to you, but the audience is sick of Nigel. The ratings are at an all time low. Surveys indicate people had enough of "Fly Hard" to last a lifetime, and that Nigel was the cause of it. They've seen it all. People want a fresher, brighter, younger, more colorful avian hero." As he said this, he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a map, which he handed to the agent. "This is him."

The agent, hands slightly shaking from being baffled from this unexpected news, opened the map. In it were pictures of a pretty green parakeet, posing in several heroic positions before the camera. "Meet Petricious, a Paraguayan parakeet. He will be filling Nigel's shoes... figuratively speaking. Testing audiences adored him, for he has a lot more grace than Nigel, and we believe he will breathe new much-needed life into "Fly Hard". So in case you still haven't figured it out yet... Nigel, you're fired."

Miss Torres, the secretary, was busy filing some paperwork, when all of a sudden a tremendous racket was heard in Mr. Borges' office. Most of it were things breaking, Nigel squawking like mad and a man screaming for his life. She swung the doors open, to find the office turned upside down, and Mr. Borges running across the room, with a furious Nigel chasing him, trying to land a bite into his backside. The agent sat huddled up in his chair, trying not to get hit by Nigel's fury. She closed the doors again, ran to the phone on her desk, and called security. It wasn't long after that Nigel and his agent were forcefully thrown out of the building into the parking lot.

It didn't take long before the news got out. The next day, Nigel's replacement was the headline on every newspaper in the country. Nigel couldn't believe what was happening. He went from riches to rags in a heartbeat. No other company was interested in casting him for any other TV show. Nobody cared about him anymore. Not even his loyal agent, who wasn't about to take care of a bird that couldn't provide. He wandered the streets running parallel of Ipanema Beach to look for someone or something to comfort him. Instead, he heard laughing coming from somewhere above him. On an ledge of a one story building sat two macaws, one was bright orange and the other had blue wings, head and tail, and a yellow body. "Well, well, if it isn't the former super actor. What's the matter, parakeet got your contract?" The orange macaw burst into laughter right after he said that. The multicolored one added fuel to the fire: "Maybe if you had some nicer colors like an actual bird from Brazil, you'd still be employed. There's a painter around the corner with a can of blue paint, that color would suit you just fine right now!" As the macaws continued laughing and insulting him, Nigel started to get enraged. Before his eyes, the two macaws started to turn green, the same green as the parakeet that was now in the studios taping new episodes he should be starring, which made him only madder. He continued hearing the macaw's insults until something finally snapped in him. He launched himself at the two macaws, who immediately stopped laughing when they saw the anger on his face. They tried to fly away, but Nigel managed to grab them both by one leg each. The shock of their interrupted momentum knocked the two birds' heads together, stunning them both for a moment. Nigel let go of their legs, then skillfully grabbed both of them by their necks, and said to them: "Let's see if you can turn blue without using paint!" while squeezing his grip tighter. The macaws started to flail around as they began to suffocate. Nigel watched in glee as their efforts to struggle out of his grasp slowly diminished. They started to black out, their limbs becoming too heavy to move. Finally, they stopped resisting altogether, even though were still breathing. "Now let's see if you can turn red too!" He shouted, as he started flying high up into the sky. When he was high enough to see half of Rio, he let go of the birds, who then plummeted towards the earth, barely aware of their impending doom. Nigel watched as a few moments later, what were once two gorgeous birds, turned into two red puddles on the streets of Rio(3). "Ooh, that's going to be tough for the cleaners. Let this be a lesson to everyone who dares to mock me again!" With that, he took off, heading towards the wilds of the jungle.

To be concluded

(1) Portuguese for 'stupid bird'

(2) Portuguese for 'Crazy Macaw'

(3) I really didn't like Nigel having to kill a few macaws, but in 'Nigel's Song', he states to be a bird murderer. That's why I had this happen.