Chapter Text
Lafayette had received the slip from Hercules. The passing of the torn paper was simple, and the cover story convenient.
As far as anyone was concerned, Lafayette stopped by the tailor’s shop so that his favorite jacket, a dark blue uniform made to fit his shoulders perfectly, could be repaired. He knew just who to go to, just the right one to fix his jacket just right.
As far as anyone knew, it had been ripped by accident when a seam caught on an exposed nail in a rickety table.
However, it was only Lafayette who knew of the tiny note tucked within the false pocket, set in place by Hercules. And so, he made polite small talk as he usually did, thanked Hercules for mending his poor jacket, swiped his wrist over the scanner to pay, and was gone without the thought of a glance over his shoulder.
In the safety of his home, he had peeled apart the tiniest hole in the stitching, slipped the rolled-up stripped out of the fabric and into his palm. Now, the little scroll was tenderly unrolled, and Lafayette went to sit at his desk, hunching over to read the fine printed writing. The curve of the letters, the spacing, were all perfectly indicative of Washington. It was familiar – not merely the style, but the very situation, a world he had lived time and time again.
George Washington, council member of the city. A leader, one to inspire.
“Lafayette, John sent word that he was able to duplicate more blueprints. He was provided a pass that might allow him to travel into our side of the city, but he must be in and out quickly. Meet him at the usual night trade point, but do not allow him to be caught out after curfew."
Lafayette sat in his office, a room hardly larger than a closet tucked into the corner of his home. He sat there alone – there was no one else to watch him drop the slip into a paper shredder, torn to incomprehensible shreds, tracks covered. Any message sent between computers could be tracked, but physical evidence could be destroyed. And with that, Lafayette rose to his feet, tugging on his jacket.
It was the blue one, of course.
Once he stepped onto the dark pavement, the orange lighting of old street lamps bled into the cool colorations, warped them. The skies were dark, and he picked up his pace, feet thudding on the sidewalk. It had taken longer than he had expected to arrive home and check the slip; he would have merely gotten the word from Hercules, but it had been unusually busy that day, meaning they never had a truly alone moment to discuss. John had to abide by a curfew, and even while Lafayette didn’t, walking alone too late at night would attract unwanted attention. While he would not be arrested or accused merely for being out, especially if he could formulate an excuse, it was quiet now, empty, something so unusual for a city. He had to be careful.
This was uptown New York.
He turned, slipping between two buildings. The street before him was wider, but usually empty, especially at such an hour.
The sliver of light marking the end of the alleyway was marred by a silhouette, bleeding into formation.
“Laurens, mon ami,” Lafayette breathed, recognizing the distinctive bob of curly hair, the slope of the other’s shoulders. His voice hardly above a whisper, French accent twisting into his words, he asked, “As-tu quelque chose pour moi? Do you have something for me?”
John was dressed in his work clothes, dark grey, long sleeves rolled up. He clutched a satchel, the strap slung over one shoulder, and nodded.
“Qu'est-ce que c'est?” Washington had mentioned blueprints.
John’s hands reached for the satchel, flipped open the top cover of the bag. Inside was a slim tablet, a light coat. Clearly, John had been working late that day, hadn’t had the opportunity to stop by his assigned housing before stopping by. “More duplications. I was able to swipe one of them to copy, and the others I sketched myself. The files are right here.” Lafayette put his hand out, taking the slim stick. A drive.
“Perfect, John. That is all, oui?”
He noticed the way John shifted on his feet, and the other finally sighed. “There’s been talk, around work. A new ship’s coming in, bringing from the coast. All the way from the Caribbean to not too far south of us here.”
Lafayette nodded, understanding. “I’ll look over those who are brought in. If they’re not taken away for auction, I will be able to send many into the education sector, where they will be most of use, now. Where I might be able to work with them, formulate excuses for their actions.” While he himself worked in education, he rarely receive notifications of a ship until only a short time before the scheduled arrival.
John glanced down to his wrist, frowning at his armband, checking the time. “It’s almost curfew. I need to go.” He tipped his head to the side, listening for soldiers on the streets out to patrol.
“Alright. Be careful, and make haste. Do not allow yourself to be captured...even with the pass from Washington that got you up here, you can’t be seen on the streets if it’s too late at night.”
“I won’t.” He moved, turned to stand facing the street. Despite the low light, Lafayette could clearly discern the little red feathers at the bases of Lauren’s wings. Deep grey and white, bands, stripes, dots.
He’d always thought they looked like a target, Lauren’s life being a bull’s-eye.
A metallic apparatus gleamed at the base joints. Wing-bands, made to stop an ezfi, a winged, from flapping. Of course, he had made sure it was broken and inactive long ago. It would raise questions to see an ezfi without them, but no one would tell from a distance that the internal mechanisms were destroyed.
John’s footsteps thumped hard on the pavement, and once clear of the alleyway, he spread his wings to their full span. He flapped, air whistling as it ran over his wings, and in a few moments he was in the air.
Lafayette was a human, privileged, content. But there were times he envied those who were ezfi.
He really shouldn’t.
Alexander raised a hand to his cheek, fingers gently running over the marred surface. He winced, pulling away, but even in the low half-light, he saw his hand was dry. That was good; it meant the larger cut had finally stopped bleeding, although the skin around it was still probably smeared red. He was lucky that it wasn’t deep, but it was ragged and painful, pink with inflammation.
Footsteps sounded out from his left. The noise bounced along the walls, seeming to reverberate in his cell – the concrete didn’t do much to dampen the activities of workers buzzing through the room. Every now and then, they’d walk through, and he’d be certain that it was his turn to be taken, but each time, he was passed over without a second glance. Another faceless shadow was cast across his cell as the latest employee moved by, and after a long minute, they came back in the opposite direction, this time leading another ezfi along.
Ezfi. That was why he was thrown into a cell, covered in cuts and bruises. It was because he was born an ezfi – smaller, and weaker than the average human in most ways. Bones that were hollow, easy to snap. Genetically modified so many years ago, spread out through the wildlands.
And wings, coming in every color imaginable. Large and strong enough to fly, under normal circumstances. Of course, the tight, pinching bands wrapped around the base of each wing, connected with some thick, square device rendered him grounded. An ezfi could only run so hard, so fast, but if they were downed, unable to fly? They were as good as dead, left to the whims of their captors.
His clothing was a mess. He hadn’t had the opportunity to clean up since his capture, and was still wearing his old clothes. They were ripped in places, and mud splatters were clearly visible. Minimalistic, for the conditions; they weren’t made for cooler weather in the slightest, and Alexander couldn’t help but shiver in his cell. The cinder blocks and concrete seemed to suck all the heat away from him, and Nevis was so warm, so unlike this new world.
His head jerked up when a soft trill sounded and a shadow fell over his form. The light wasn’t strong enough for hard edges, but there was no illumination in his cage, the only light originating from outside in the walkway. After a few moments, the door slid open on a track, and he withdrew at the metallic screeching. Unsure exactly what to expect, he coiled backwards, wings scraping the concrete behind him.
A human was silhouetted against the light, towering over him. “Get up. You’re going to processing.” When Alexander made no motion to stand, the human snapped his hand forward, grabbing Alexander’s wrist and yanking him to his feet and pulling him out of his cell. Without the use of his wings for balance, he stumbled forwards, hardly able to steady himself.
“Gah-!”
But, for the first time since his arrival, he was able to see outside of his prison. Most of the cell doors were closed, only a small window allowing view to the outside. Those that were open revealed a bare cage, shallow, just enough to force an ezfi into. The human’s grip on his wrist tightened slightly, fingernails digging into skin as he pulled, finally pushing Alexander in front of him. “Test Room 1 is the first on the right.” After a pause, he muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this...this menial labor, if those dumb ezfis had thought to tell us they wouldn’t be showing up today...when they get back, they are fired.”
The room the human referred to was only marked with a small “1” that was printed on a plate. He swiped his right arm over the handle, a thick black band around his wrist blinking green before he opened the door, shoving Alexander inside. Inside was a little space, the walls blank and uninviting, just enough space for a desk and chairs. On one side, an ezfi a bit smaller than Alexander was hunched over the desk; it didn’t appear that he’d even noticed anyone else in the room with him.
“Burr!”
The ezfi – Burr, his name must have been – jumped up, staring over at them with wide eyes. “Yes, Mr. Reynolds, sir?” It was after another moment that he noticed Alexander, giving a quiet “oh” and nodding to the opposing chair. “Sit down, here.”
Alexander contemplated instead kicking it over, but he wasn’t quite sure that was the best idea. As he stepped forward, the door behind him slammed shut, clicking as it was automatically relocked, and he reluctantly made his way over to the desk. After a moment’s thought, he decided to straighten up and stand behind the chair instead. His fingers digged into the plastic to stop himself from shaking.
Everyone here seemed awfully calm about the fact that he was here because he was kidnapped from his homeland.
Burr appeared unamused, pointing to the chair. “Sit down, or I’m calling security. You’re not on the records yet, meaning you can and will be shot dead.”
Needless to say, that got Alexander sitting down fast. The ezfi wrinkled his nose when he noticed the muck on Alexander’s t-shirt, but chose not to comment on it.
Burr looked down at the table. From the doorway, Alexander had figured the desk was merely made of wood, as they usually were. At least, they were in the Caribbean, before the humans had…he shook away the thought, his cuts and bruises already a reminder in themselves. He noticed Burr tapping on the desk, realizing that while it was smooth and polished, the center of either side was a rectangular sheet of glass. While his side was dark and black, turned off, Burr’s was lit up and white as he typed something into the computer.
He took a moment to examine the ezfi. Sitting down, it was easier to gauge the other ezfi’s size, and his earlier assumption appeared correct – he had at least an inch on the other. Not much of a difference in size, but it was there.
If it came to it, he could probably tackle Burr, scramble past him, but with the door locked...
What caught Alexander’s attention next, however, was the black band the ezfi wore around his right wrist. He had noticed the human, Reynolds, wearing one as well, although he wasn’t sure what purpose it served. It seemed minimalistic, a screen, a button or two, and a place where he was fairly sure a light would blink on at. The best he could discern was that it was likely something tied to its user, possibly for transactions, or something of the sort.
What he noticed most was the ezfi’s wings. Alexander was from the Caribbean, where most ezfis had bright wings, usually blues and greens. But, this ezfi’s wings were a pitch black he’d never before seen in feathers. The last outer row of feathers, primaries, secondaries, in a stark contrast, were pure white.
After a long minute, Burr stopped his typing, tapped something on the screen, and folded his arms. He looked up at Alexander, face neutral and blank. “I am testing associate Aaron Burr. I’ll be in charge of gathering your basic files – after we’re done here, I’ll take you to the medical workers for a physical examination for your records. Everything beyond that point will be out of my hands.”
“You’re talking off a script,” Alexander muttered. “At least speak to me like another ezfi. Who was, you know, kidnapped!” A tear pricked at one eye; he rubbed it out of existence. The longer he stayed angry, the longer it would take to break down.
Burr slid his pointer finger along the glass, not bothering to meet Alexander’s eyes. “I read the same script as what I use on everyone else. Don’t go believing you’re anything special, because you’re not.”
Alexander slammed his hands down on the table. “Excuse me!? I’m not trying to say I’m important but I’m not going to just sit here and listen to you drone on about–”
“Stop,” Burr cut his speech off. “If you want me to not recite a script, then take a little advice. Talk less...keep yourself out of trouble. And smile more. It keeps the self-entitled off your back, and will get you places faster than you might think. Opinionation is not something you can afford here.” He tapped twice, and Alexander could see a digital records form appearing on his screen. “Now, I will need some information from you...what you can provide now will be useful.”
Outburst silenced, Alexander clenched his teeth and looked down, only to see the screen flash to life. It must have been mirroring Burr’s screen, as it scrolled to the first entry table as Burr slid a finger along the surface of his own side’s glass. “Fill out what you’re capable of. The section marked “medical” with an asterisk will be filled out later; you can’t enter anything into it right now. Don’t try, because it won’t work. I trust you are capable of typing?”
Alexander snorted annoyedly in response. “Of course I can, I’m not a moron!” He wasn’t going to admit that he wasn’t the best at it, preferring to write, so instead he dutifully poked each displayed key with his two pointer fingers.
The first question asked his full name, split into three boxes; he filled out the first and last with “Alexander Hamilton.” He didn’t have a middle name, but the form appeared to accept him not filling in the entire question.
The second one asked for his age, the third for his race. The fourth wanted to know human DNA heritage, and he wracked his brain for an answer, finally skipping over it. The fifth was a follow-up to the fourth, asking what type of ezfi he was. Instead of being sorted into avian DNA types, it was a drop-down list that allowed for all the common types, something he was grateful for. After a long moment, he chose “Hybrid: [Middle-Central American Tropics & Atlantic Oceanic Island].”
Most of the questions were simple, until he reached the second section. He raised an eyebrow, looking up at Burr, who seemed absorbed in whatever he was doing. “A test?”
Burr didn’t bother to look up, only nodded. “So that we know if you’re as smart as you’re trying to make yourself sound.”
Truthfully, Alexander didn’t think he sounded like that. Maybe he normally did, but a messy ezfi with matted brown hair, covered in scrapes and looking like he was just beat up wasn’t the best look. After Burr made it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to say anything else, Alexander looked back down to the screen, filling out the questions. The faster he finished there, the quicker he could get out of this place.
The ezfi was a delicate female, but her hands gripped his arm and held it in place as she wiped a strange-smelling disinfectant over his skin. She looked like an otherwise pretty ezfi with bright red wings and long hair that was swept back, probably to stop contamination or some other medical excuse. Aaron Burr had sighed and brought Alexander to the medical bay once he had finished filling out what he could of the form; thankfully, he hadn’t accompanied Alexander when he was forced to strip and redress in the provided clothes.
To be perfectly fair, it had taken another threat of calling security to get him to comply. He was fairly sure that was why Burr had left for a short while; the black-winged ezfi already knew what to expect.
Alexander was in simple sneakers, the cheapest quality imaginable. Dark grey sweatpants, the drawstring pulled tight – his generally poor dietary choices left him skinny enough that it wasn’t the best idea to leave it overly lose. He was in a t-shirt, and while he welcomed having some better covering overall now, he was still hoping for a jacket or something of the sort.
The female plunged the syringe into a vein on his arm, and Alexander winced. He was fairly sure that his arm would be out of commission for the next week at this rate; it was one shot after the other, and then a blood collection, and then–
She pulled away as Aaron tapped on his armband. His typing wasn’t constant; rather, it was merely a background noise that surfaced now and then. Alexander doubted that Burr was working; more likely, he was sending messages to someone. Whatever the case might have been, he made an annoyed sound, yanking back his freed arm to hold it close to his chest. First his wings, now his arm; they were breaking his limbs one at a time. “Are we done now?”
“Patience, Alexander,” was Burr’s only response.
Alexander tipped his head in confusion, yelping when the woman snatched his arm back again. “Goddammit, I thought you were done!”
“Stop squirming, and I would be done faster,” she responded, maneuvering his arm to lay flat in a half-tube device that had a dark band curled around it. She let go to pick something else off of a tray, glaring at him and smacking his arm when he tried to move. Selecting a flat piece with a slight curve to it, she loaded a straight, sheer material into it and pressed his arm into place. She pulled the dark band around his arm before setting the flat object over the seam and pressing down, hard. It clicked into place, causing Alexander to jump and try to pull away.
“U-aum, what exactly are you doing?”
She lifted the flat piece away, setting it back onto the tray. “Your armband,” she answered, moving to mess with something out of his range of vision. “Your testing associate, Burr, will activate it for you and explain the next steps of processing.”
“Maria, I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of–”
The female looked through thick eyelashes at Aaron, no doubt plainly telling him that such a thing wouldn’t be happening. Aaron gave a long sigh, standing, and motioning for Hamilton to stand with him. “We’ll stop by Test Room 1 so I can activate it.”
Alexander glanced down to examine the band; it appeared identical to the one Burr – and, come to think of it, Maria – wore, made of a dark material that, while not uncomfortable, was strange to feel, laying flat and tight.
Burr started out of the medical bay, Alexander speeding up slightly to follow him. Instead of being pushed ahead or dragged, Burr didn’t mind Alexander merely walking behind him. Because of this, Alexander had a good view of Burr’s wings – something that caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re wearing that thing on your wings, like I am.”
“Hm?” Burr turned to look at him questioningly before suddenly nodding in realization. “Oh. Yes. Wild-born ezfis must wear these active for a probationary period if they live in specific sectors of the city; in other sectors, all ezfis are required to wear them. They can be activated and deactivated remotely, as needed.”
“But...my wings...doesn’t it…?”
While continuing to walk, Aaron shrugged, although Alexander got the feeling he was getting annoyed. “Look, they just stop you from moving your wings, and it’ll only be for a little while at the most. I’m from...I am familiar with them, and I am still capable of flight. I just need to wear them due to my work; it’s a security measure that I can be grounded. But it’s just something that’s depending on where you end up.”
Alexander found himself reaching one hand around his back to lightly touch his feathers. With the bands on, he couldn’t completely close his wings, but he could press them fairly close to his back. “Should I...should I ask what you mean by that?”
Sighing, Burr opened the door to the Testing Room, motioning for Alexander to come inside. “You’re familiar with the ezfi trade, yeah?”
Alexander’s gaze fell to the ground. He definitely knew plenty about it. Not wanting to speak, he nodded. Aaron pulled him over to the table, making him rest his arm with the band on the desk before beginning to type something on the flat, glass screen. “Well, I’m going to tell you this right now: this place – New York City – is not as bad as a lot of other places.”
“Sounds like you just think that other places are extraordinarily bad!” Hamilton snapped back.
Burr shuffled his strangely dark wings, shrugging. “Maybe you are perceptive, Alexander. But...you are correct.” He tapped something on the flat screen before pressing and holding a button on Alexander’s armband, the small screen flashing and glowing to life. “The city operates on three sectors dealing with ezfis that were recently captured – trade is the most important, supposedly. They get first pick on ezfis that were brought in – they go poke and prod at them, take the pretty ones and auction them off in markets as pets or submissive servants. Education is next; they take the smartest, train them.”
Alexander found himself straightening up just slightly. That was exactly what sector he would be getting into. And with that, his mind began to race. It was perfect! Get into education – being auctioned off as a pet was sickening, but in education, he would realistically have more freedom. And from there, band together the others. Someone there had to be an engineer, surely they could disable the wing-bands. Based on what Burr was saying, they could be turned on and off, so break that mechanism, and he should be able to fly. From there, he’d-!
Well, he hadn’t gotten that far, actually. He’d make the best of that situation when he got to it. It was better than complying to being stuck here forever.
“...And the last sector is the working class. Hydroponics farming, power plant work. The dirty jobs no one else wants to do. Hire out maids, things like that.”
Alexander merely nodded, already plotting. Being a cross-bred ezfi with such strangely colored wings – light blue, green, and then a deep red, as if they were dipped into blood – well, it was generally something ostracized in the Caribbean. Most were blues, indigoes, greens. It was those on the mainland that had the reds, pinks, purples, making it hard to deny his heritage.
Now, Alexander wasn’t exactly jumping to get back to the Caribbean. It was a world of memories that escaped him, of dangerous storms and struggling. He had been dreaming of a better world, somewhere out of his homeland.
But... yes, that would be a plan. Rally enough other ezfis, escape the city – and then he could find a nice little village, settle down, hide for a time should they come looking for him…
“There,” Burr said, pulling away from the computer, “it’s pretty straightforward, so I’m not going to bother explaining it. But the power button is here–” he motioned to the lowermost button, “and that turns on the screen itself, but background functions are always running. As for power capabilities, it’s fairly straightforward, made as we cannot take them off, so–”
Alexander was already tuning him out. So, they didn’t come off. That was fine, the education sector had to have tools, he could pull it off; leave it somewhere, and any tracking devices or other services would link to that location, not to him.
Burr walked to the door, handle clicking and unlocking when he put his wrist beside it. “I...you’re going to go back to your cell now.”
Hamilton nodded, and Burr led him out, the latter continuing to speak, “You’re surprisingly easy about this. Perhaps we’ll end up working together at some point, if you can control your outbursts.”
Oh, if only he knew the thoughts swirling in Alexander’s head. “Is there anything else I need to know? Anyone to avoid, anywhere to go?”
Aaron paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, before responding, “If you keep on your toes, be smart, but don’t put yourself out there – you’ll be fine, probably. I would be careful if you’re ever uptown, however.”
“Uptown?”
“Downtown is where most of the hydroponics, manufacturing, power, all the facilities are going to be at, where ezfis are packed into homes, and where most work. Security is tighter there in ezfi control, as well, while uptown is mostly them checking that everyone is supposed to be there. Uptown, then, is where most humans live, although there will be a clear enough difference between the rich and the regular. Some of them are fine, and it’s difficult to accidentally wander into uptown, unless you’re in education, since a lot of their facilities are located up there.”
Alright, so the city had a clear divide. “Who should I worry about, then…?”
Aaron hummed thoughtfully before coming to a decision. “The human you met – Reynolds – should be avoided, if you can. He’s in charge of bringing in ezfis for sorting. Then, the head of ezfi auction and sale – his name’s George, but he goes by the name King – and whoever his little helper is at the time. Although, I don’t think you’d run into any of them…” His head suddenly jerked up. “Thomas Jefferson, too. He’s all over the city, being a leader of industry and tech. Rich, resourceful, and doesn’t see anyone as being worth his time, from what I hear. Taller, with loose, dark hair.”
“Thomas Jefferson, got it,” Alexander repeated as they walked into the room of cells. He noticed that more were closed than before; other ezfis must have been returning from their own examinations. Burr motioned for him to step into a cell, and reluctantly, he did.
It felt like he was willingly walking into his own destruction.
Without another word, Burr shut and locked the door. His face fallen, he turned and walked off, leaving Alexander in the darkness of half-light.
Alexander couldn’t help but think Burr must have a horrible job.
It was not long before footsteps sounded once more.
Then came the screams and cries. A female with dark, curly strands tightly pulled back was yanked out of her cell, falling to the ground with a pained gasp. Her wings were a light yellow, and he saw a single, tiny feather flutter to the ground.
“Peggy! Stop, don’t take her!”
A male ezfi with black and red wings matching obnoxiously red-orange hair pulled Peggy to her feet, starting to drag her forward at the command of someone standing outside Alexander’s view. “Angelica! Eliza!”
“Samuel, handcuff her and put her in holding,” the voice continued, and Alexander couldn’t help but notice the distinctive British accent, although he couldn’t pinpoint what part of Britain it originated from. The male nodded feverently, and while he himself was thin and slight, he was able to force her along.
Someone scoffed – Alexander was fairly sure it was Reynolds. “King, we don’t have all day here. Grab ‘em and go.”
King. That was who Burr mentioned, the human that was in charge of selling ezfis.
“You cannot rush perfection, Mr. Reynolds, but if we must go faster, then feel free to help,” King purred back, finally stepping into Alexander’s view. He was dressed in red, white, and gold; his outfit was neat, a suit tailored just for him. Glancing down to his own armband, he swiped along the surface. “Sammy, once you’re done over there load the other two females up as well.”
On cue, the skinny male came bounding across the room, wings bouncing. He unlocked the door to a cell holding a female with wings that were a soft pink, dark hair swept back. A few heartbeats passed as she stood, muscles tensed and eyes glaring, before she leaped out to strangle him.
It only took another heartbeat for Reynolds to twist her arms behind her back, pinning her wings tight against her spine, and forcing her to her knees. Samuel crawled backwards, a hand massaging his throat. “Well? King, get the damn ezfi before I let her go.”
“Hm. Why don’t you take her over to holding? You’re a big strong human, aren’t you?”
Reynolds glared for a long few moments before yanking the ezfi to her feet. “Fine.” He stomped off, the female squirming and jerking as he forced for forward. “Just get the others you want so I can let the other sector representatives in.”
King helped Samuel to his feet before nodding his head, and the ezfi scurried off to a cage directly to the right of the females’. Unlocking it, he helped out a third female, not quite as small as the first, but not as intimidating as the second’s. Her head was bowed, dark strands of hair falling over her face. Wings that were a deeper, darker at the top, less so along the bottom, where they were light. She tried to pull one arm away from Samuel’s to swipe it away, but his response was to shove it back down and nudge her forward.
She made it about two steps before tripping, the sweatpants she was in – her uniform looked just like his and the other females’, while Burr, Maria, and Samuel wore regular clothing – riding up on her leg and revealing painful-looking red scratches that twisted over the exposed skin. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped her, and Alexander found himself pressing against the small window to the cell, lips quirked into a worried expression. “Are...are you alright…?” He mumbled.
Back in the Caribbean, he’d seen plenty of injuries. Hell, he definitely looked like a mess right now, face surely still smeared with blood from earlier. The medical bay clearly wasn’t for making sure he was going to survive; it was just to perform a routine examination. But, her wounds looked new...she must have been injured when she was grabbed, just as he was. She glanced up at him, eyes wide,
Reynolds stepped back into Alexander’s line of sight, brushing invisible dust particles from his sleeves. King tipped his head as the female was pulled up once more and led out of the room, eyes locked on Alexander through the small window. “My, I didn’t notice that one when I first walked in.”
Reynolds shrugged, rubbing his palms together. “Some dirty hybrid picked up from the Caribbean. Education was looking into grabbing him, last I knew.”
Alexander shrank back slightly. Yes, exactly, he should be going with education. They were how he was going to get out of this place, he’d already put together a plan!
King moved forward, eyes roaming over Alexander, lingering on his wings. “He’s a little one, isn’t he? Not the smallest I’ve seen, but youthful. A good age for...well, I’m sure some of our bidders might find interest in him.”
“Yes, but he’s not a purebred, that’ll lower his selling price anyhow, and–”
“Ah, we’ll just say he’s from the tropics, the rainforests. Unusual coloration, very rare. The buyers eat that up, and are none the wiser. None of them actually bother to look through their ezfi’s files, and we can always go in and make a little...edit, to them, before he’s sold.”
Alexander pressed himself backwards, against the wall. He was not going to let himself be taken. He could...Samuel, the red-haired ezfi, was weak enough that Alexander could leap over him, then he’d need to dodge Reynolds, and then he doubted King would be as quick to grab him, and then–
Samuel stood in front of the cell door, blocking Hamilton’s view of the two humans. That was fine, he could handle them. The door slid open.
Alexander leaped forward, hands outstretched, tackling Samuel to the ground. Shoving his palm hard into the other ezfi’s throat, he threw himself back to his feet, frantically looked around for an exit–his gaze landed on the open passageway leading back to the testing rooms and medical bay. His cheap sneakers pounded on the concrete flooring as he ran forward.
He needed to be quick, get through doorways, slow down his pursuers–
A hand grabbed his left wing and yanked him backwards. He gave a yelp of pain, one that quickly turned to a muffled gasping as the delicate joints were twisted and pulled with a sickening squelch and a pop.
Pain, warm – no, hot – bloomed along his back, and he collapsed to one knee, the hand disappearing. The metal banded device around the bases of his wings kept his left wing frozen in place, twisted wrong and yanked out of place, and he clenched his teeth together to muffle the small sounds escaping him. The pressure returned, a knee pressing his back down, forcing his forehead against the concrete.
“Reynolds, go put that one in holding, will you? Sammy’s going to have some bruising, it looks like.”
Reynolds removed his knee, stepped in front of him, but from Alexander’s position, all he could see were gleaming, polished black shoes.
“Oh, and do gag him. His noises are...undesirable.” A few moments later, Reynolds reached down, pulling Alexander to his feet. His wing jerked at the movement, and Hamilton let out an involuntary cry.
Why the fuck did he ever think that was going to work?