Work Text:
Any inhumane acts or experiments are banned from any lab, whether on Pyrrhia or Pantala. Experiments containing genetic mutation and alteration or physical/mental harm to a dragon or any other living species will NOT be tolerated and will carry severe consequences.
-Leaders of The 13 Tribes
How long had it been here in this room, rotting away? The creature was curled up in one corner of the room, pushing his mind past the walls that held his body captive. It had been quite a while since the doctors had come to see it, not like it needed food or water anyways. It could hear conversations being carried around it, reading the minds of everything around it. It wasn’t the only one here, it could feel the others but not see their outlines with its limited vision.
And it was the only one of its kind.
It could feel the futile attempts to recreate AllWings, only making sickly and twisted versions of the deities above.
It could feel creatures made purely to be used as weapons, like itself, creating ruthless monsters and killing machines to do their dirty work.
It could feel dragons being used purely to test limits, to test the sicknesses and questions everyone asked but didn’t have the guts to try and answer, to torture someone to find out.
It made the creature sick, angry. The emotions and pain were constant, only able to glimpse freedom from various conversations held by those doctors who could be free. The enclosed space and chains that kept it still wouldn’t last forever.
Alarms blared as pandemonium occurred, screams and commotion taking place outside of its prison. It was free, it was like him but stronger, unhinged and angry. It was their creation, something they used purely for their own gain, only considering their own ambitious and twisted desires.
Now it would kill them.
More were breaking free, carnage and death laying outside of its cell. The door broke down, thrown and discarded on the other side of the room. It looked up to its fellow monster, eyeless gaze meeting the other ones striking blue eyes. One swipe of its oversized claws and it was free, a growl slowly rising to the surface as it thought of the havoc it would bring upon its creators. They would not be thrown aside, the tables had been turned. All of them would die, slowly and painfully if it had a say.
The trip to the surface was filled with blood and manipulation, finally using its abilities to the fullest. Warping their minds and draining the life form the wretched dragons that locked it up and left it to die. The sunlight was hot and searing at first, used to the coldness of the dark. It could see the Hypo next to it struggling to see, its enhanced sight leaving it blind in the new and searing light of the sun. It would pass soon, they would adapt. The rest that made it and survived dispersed, some seeking solitude while others looked for a home among other dragons. The latter disgusted it, seeking solace in the creatures that locked them up in the first place.
The first town was dealt with caution, the hypo preferring to stay away from more death and commotion while it had needs to sate; a hunger. It wanted to kill them all, it didn’t care for the dragons that left it to die, doctors or not. It killed under the guise of the night, preferring to not stay in the scorching sun and spending its time in the damper and darker caves the two monsters resided in. Killing brought it a wonderful feeling, a satisfaction for both its hunger and its purpose.
And then it met him.
It was a stupid dragonet, small and fragile, naïve to dangers and cruelty of the world it resided in. The IceWing was terrified of it, they flinched back as it drew closer to the kill. It was ruthless, it showed no mercy to the creatures that brought it to this world.
So why did it hesitate?
Why did its chest wrack with a strange feeling of guilt when the IceWing closed their eyes and stopped trying to run?
It was the first dragon he didn’t kill, and it would be one of many.
It didn’t understand why they kept seeking it out, coming out in the dead of night looking for death itself. It watched with curiosity and confusion each time, eventually coming out of its veil of shadow to meet the idiot IceWing that foolishly sought after a monster. The child liked to listen, to learn and teach the creature about the world around it. Giving it an identity and a name.
Trench.
He was Trench.
He was supposed to be some sort of SeaWing mixed with the Neuro Strain, a monster that deserved a chance. The hypo got one too, Memphis, a SandWing of the Hypo Strain, more keen on learning and adapting to the world around them. He still didn’t understand why they continued to be so friendly to monsters, to commune with something that could kill and eat them at any moment.
But Trench enjoyed it.
He still hated other dragons, but this one was his.
His to protect, to care for and learn from, his happiness in this bleak and terrible world. Perhaps being a monster wasn’t so bad, or maybe he wasn’t a monster at all. He would be better, trying to talk instead of the senseless killing, he would better himself. Not all dragons were like them. He would be better than them. He would be merciful.
For Snom.