Work Text:
The door to the warehouse swung open, the harsh lanterns flickering to life as the salesman walked in, followed by a stranger in a gaudy crimson suit. He looked like the sort of man who had too much money and too few brains—exactly the sort of rich asshole who probably thought having a hybrid as a pet was a great status symbol.
Grian scowled, leaning against the back of his cage, folding his wings tightly behind him so they couldn’t be admired like fancy baubles on a store’s shelf. He’d lost count of how long ago he’d been captured and locked up here, but it had to be a few months by now. He’d seen his fair share of pretentious creeps come to the warehouse, and he’d seen too many hybrids sold off. The lucky ones left alive—those less lucky were sold off as exotic potion ingredients.
“I must say, this is quite the operation you’ve got here!” The gaudy stranger said, whistling in disbelief. “You’ve got a little bit of everything huh? Even enderian hybrids, I hear those are super hard to keep put, what with the teleporting and all. How do you keep this whole place under wraps?”
The salesman chuckled, an unpleasant grating sound. “Even after hybrid protection laws were passed most servers don’t give enough of a damn to enforce them. So long as I’m helping the economy most moderators turn a blind eye,” he said.
The stranger hummed thoughtfully, walking over to look at the row of cages where Grian was kept. He’d had plenty of practice making sure he was overlooked. He’d caked his wings in dust, only preened feathers that hurt, and always shrank back against the bars. The longer nobody paid him any mind, the more time Grian had to work on escaping this place.
“You know, all my friends say avian hybrids are the most difficult hybrid to keep,” the gaudy strange rambled cheerily. “They say they’re all rambunctious and disobedient, but the way their wings look are just amayzing.”
The salesman nodded eagerly, following the stranger down the warehouse aisle. “Avians are a very popular show hybrid. If you’re a first time owner, I recommend you get them pinioned immediately, or else the little buggers try to fly away. We provide that service for a small up-charge, if you’d like.”
Grian shuttered. Pinioned. It was a barbaric act, cutting off the furthest joint of an avian’s wings to keep them permanently grounded. He’d rather have his wings cut off entirely, rather than have his wings hanging useless from his body, like they’d been turned into some sort of trophy.
“Maybe,” the stranger said. “I know avians run a bit pricey, do you have any on discount? I’m friends with someone who trains hybrids to be obedient so behavior isn’t an issue.”
The shopkeeper grinned eagerly. “That depends on how big of a discount you want, bud! I’ve had this one avian I’ve been trying to get rid of for nearly a year now. Bitch got returned twice for attacking buyers. I would’ve gotten it butchered ages ago if avians had anything good on ‘em for potion making.”
The stranger clapped their hands together. “That sounds amayzing! The one in the red sweater?”
Grian’s heart stopped. Fuck.
“That’s the bitch,” the shopkeeper sneered. “If you’re friend can get that one to behave, they’re a miracle worker.”
“Perfect! Seeing as he’s a bit small and musty looking, and he’s got a track record of being aggressive, how about, I don’t know, seventy percent off?” The stranger said.
The shopkeeper laughed derisively. “No offense sir, but cutting deals like that would put me out of business. Twenty-five percent discount.”
The stranger frowned, tsking disappointedly. “But I have to have him trained, too! I’m pretty sure I can get a better price on other servers, either way.”
‘Yes,’ Grian begged silently. ‘Go ruin someone else’s life. Don’t ruin my escape plan, please.’
“Fourty percent,” the shopkeeper said.
“Fifty, or it’s not worth the money,” the stranger countered.
“Fine,” the shopkeeper grumbled. “I can have it sedated and shipped to you by morning. We sell manacles and cages up front if you don’t have your own. Do you want it pinioned?”
The stranger grinned. “Oh that won’t be necessary! I am so glad we could strike up a deal.”
Grian sank back up against the wall of his cage, cursing under his breath. He wouldn’t give up on escape—but it seemed he was going to have to come up with a new plan. He watched the gaudy stranger and the shopkeep walk away, talking business as they left the warehouse.
The gaudy stranger paused just before the warehouse door, glancing back. He met Grian’s eyes. Grian shot him a withering scowl.
Bizarrely, the gaudy stranger shot him a grin and a wink before disappearing through the door.
When the sedatives wore off, Grian expected to wake up locked in some hideously fancy cage, or chained up in an ugly topiary garden. What he did not expect was to wake up on a fluffy mattress to the smell of fresh fruit. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up. He stretched out his wings—thankfully, still in tact, and tossed aside the blanket thrown over him. No chains around his wrists or ankles. Light was streaming in through a large window on one of the walls.
The gaudy stranger was in the room, sat at a small table with two chairs, peeling an apple with a pocket knife. He lit up when he saw Grian was awake, smiling cheerfully. “Oh good, I was wondering when you’d wake up! Do you want breakfast? I wasn’t sure if avians could eat sausage or eggs or anything, so its just oatmeal and some fruit. I hope that’s alright!”
Grian blinked, rubbing his eyes. The stranger had bought him like an animal, but expected him to sit at the table and share a meal as if they were equals? What was his angle? This had to be a trick.
“Not very talkative, huh?” The stranger said cheerfully. “That’s alright, my friends say I talk enough for three people, so you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. My name’s Scar, by the way. What’s your name?”
Grian stood up from the mattress, narrowing his eyes. “When people but a pet, they usually make up their own stupid names for it,” he spat. His instinct was to puff up his wings to look bigger, more threatening, but that didn’t work with people who only saw his wings as a prize.
Scar raised an eyebrow. “What kind of stupid names?”
Grian stared in disbelief. “I don’t know? Fluffy? Snookums? How am I supposed to know what you weirdos come up with?”
Scar set down his apple and his pocketknife, clasping his hands together. “Okay. Do you want me to call you Snookums?” He said it so straight-faced it was impossible to tell if he was being serious or not. It’d be funny if he didn’t have Grian’s freedom in a stranglehold.
“My name is Grian,” he finally said.
Scar smiled brightly. “That’s a wonderful name! It’s nice to meet you properly, Grian.”
Grian frowned, his eyes flicking across the room. The decorative iron panelling on the window meant he couldn’t break out that way. The only other way out was the door, with only Scar sitting in the way. Surely, no one could be this stupid. There had to be some hidden security stopping Grian from getting away. It couldn’t be this easy. Maybe it was locked. Would Scar have the key, or would someone be waiting outside with it?
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Scar asked, nibbling on an apple slice.
Grian frowned. “I’m not hungry,” he said. He was starving, but there was no way the food was actually safe. Still, he stepped close to the table.
Quickly, Grian lunged for the pocket knife Scar left on the table. He swung it at Scar, trying to quickly stab him in the throat.
With startling agility, Scar ducked under the stab, getting to his feet. Somehow, he was still smiling—that stupid, unflappable dandy smile.
Grian charged at him again and again, trying to cut the smug smile off of Scar’s face, or better yet, lodge the knife in the man’s heart. The man sidestepped, leaning to the side, ducking and twisting with such each he didn’t even bother to pull his hands out of his jacket pockets. It wasn’t the cleaned careful dodges of a trained fighter, just casual movements like he was stepping out of the way of a still tree rather than neatly avoiding blow after blow. Grian wasn’t sure whether to be more infuriated or afraid.
Then, he landed a hit, a glancing slash that ran all the way across Scar’s face.
Time seems to stop. The wound split beneath the pocket knife—not deep enough to deal and harm more lasting than a scar. But the blood beneath was an unnatural, glowing, electric shade of blue.
Grian staggered back, staring in disbelief. Scar blinked in surprise as the blood began to drip slowly down his face. He clasped a hand over his injury, then after a moment, he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh you’re fun! I like you.”
“You aren’t human,” Grian whispered, staring at the blood, so bright it looked like it had leaked out of a broken glowstick.
“Nope!” Scar said cheerily, picking up a cloth napkin from the table, folding it and pressing it to his injury.
Grian glanced down at the pocketknife in his hand, dripping that same alien blood. He looked back up at Scar. “Are you a hybrid?”
Scar shook his head, chuckling. “Oh goodness no. I’ve got less human blood than you have fish blood!” He pulled the napkin away—the skin of his face seemed to be knitting itself together, forming a long pale scar where Grian had cut him. “I’m one hundred percent organic farm-grown vex.”
Grian narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t vex those little blue ghost things evokers summon?”
Scar sat back down at the table, nibbling a piece of toast. “Yep! Of course, the summoning magic has to make us much, much smaller and weaker than we normally are, or we’d be too powerful to control. Though even when we make our own mortal bodies we’re weaker. I guess nothing beats being made of pure magical energy!” He said enthusiastically, as if they were having a nice conversation about weekend plans.
Grian sank down into the seat opposite Scar. “So you’re not some rich idiot who’s buying me to be his pet?” He said slowly.
Scar hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not super sure about that first part, but I certainly don’t want to keep a person as a pet. Besides, the only pet I need is my sweet lil baby Jellie,” he said, sliding the bowl of fruit towards Grian. “No offense. If you wanted to be a pet I’m sure you’d do alright at it. Care for an apricot?”
“Hold on, hold on,” Grian interrupted. “Then what were you doing in a blackmarket hybrid warehouse? Why buy me?”
Scar’s unshakably cheery demeanor suddenly became solemn. “Well, you see, I might be able to pass as a human player, but I’m not one. I know how awful mob-players and hybrids can be treated. I’m not going to just ignore it all if there’s anything I can do.”
Grian picked up a tangerine, picking at the peel absentmindedly. “So you bought me because of, what, altruism? No offense but I have a hard time believing you blew ten thousand diamonds to help a stranger.”
“Four thousand,” Scar said smugly. “I got him to agree to a sixty percent discount. That guy was a total sucker.”
Grian shook his head. “Still! Am I supposed to believe you’re just going to let me go?”
Scar’s smile took on a more apologetic twist. “Not exactly! At least, not right away.”
“Of course there’s a catch,” Grian muttered.
Scar broke into a grin. “Don’t worry, it’s just one teensy tiny little favor. You might even like it.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out a large ring of keys and tossing it on the table. “So because you have rabies and you bit me—“
“—I do not have rabies—“
“I’ll be taking you back to the warehouse for a refund,” Scar continued. “But somehow, you will have miraculously got your hands on the spare keyring that went missing last week. In the middle of the night, you’ll unlock all the hybrid cages, setting everyone in that warehouse free.”
Grian picked up the keyring, shaking his head. “I have no clue how you got these, but they’re only the cage keys. Everyone would still be locked in the warehouse with the thugs that keep watch overnight.”
Scar nodded. “I couldn’t find the key to the actual warehouse. Luckily, I have some delicious Vex magic cooked up for just such an occasion!” He made a zipping motion in mid-air, and what looked like a hole in space opened up. He reached inside, fishing around like he was trying to find the last few crackers in the bottom of a box. “Oh wow, I really need to organize this,” he muttered.
Finally, Scar pulled a long diamond sword out of the rift, the blade glimmering with enchantment. However, the typically purple glow was instead the same shimmering blue of Scar’s blood. “Okay! This one’s a real beauty, Grian, let me tell you,” he said, slipping into a smooth salesman tone. “This sword has a curse of unvanishing!”
Grian raised an eyebrow. “Like… a curse of vanishing?”
Scar nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly—But backwards. Go on, take it!”
Grian reached out, grabbing the hilt of the sword. Instantly, it disappeared in a light rain of sparks.
“There we go! Now, when you most need a weapon, the sword will reappear!” Scar said, flourishing dramatically. “Although do be careful—as soon as the initial problem is over, the sword breaks, and you’re weaponless again.” He reached into the rift, pulling out a small case of glass bottles with a translucent liquid swirling inside, almost gaseous in appearance. “I’ve got a twelve-pack of splash invisibility potions too. It took a bit more finagling with enchantments and anvils to get it on these, but I doubt that shopkeep is going to put you back in the cage with a bottle full of suspicious potions.” Grian grabbed the case, and it too vanished. He felt a brief dizzy spell this time, but it passed quickly.
Scar reached into the rift one last time. “And of course, a goodie for me! I’m not going to be just sitting at home eating popcorn after all, no sir!” he said, grinning. He pulled out a bundle of unlit tnt, giving it a pat. “A friend of mine helped me with these! I can blast holes in the walls big enough to walk through but small enough not to bring a building down. I always put way too much gunpowder when I tried to make these myself, let me tell you. I’ll be setting these off as distractions and escape routes. I’ve also got two temporary safe houses set up within five miles of the warehouse—Concorp Contractors and El Matador Mattresses. Any hybrids who need help getting to a safer server or even just to lose the trail of any guards giving chase can go there. I’ll have close friends at each location on the night of the breakout.”
Grian sank back in his chair, breaking into a baffled grin. “This is insane. How long have you been doing this?”
“I dunno, maybe about seven years?” Scar replied. He paused, then laughed. “Oh, wait, do you mean for this warehouse? I’ve been planning this one for three months. So does that mean you’ll do it?”
Grian took a deep breath, then nodded. “You’ll let me go free after, right? Then let’s do it.”
Grian didn’t trust Scar, not exactly. Although the man was clearly much more than he appeared to be, he was still a stranger who could and did buy Grian’s life with a snap of his fingers. Not exactly the kind of first impression that fostered a lot of good faith.
But a chance like this only came around once in a life time. Grian would be a damn fool not to take it.
“Should’ve known better to think I’d get you off my hands so easily,” the shopkeep sneered, shoving Grian to the ground
Grian winced, getting to his knees and cradling his side. The shopkeep hadn’t exactly been pleased to see his merchandise returned so quickly, and of course, Grian was punished for it. His left eye was swollen shut, and he could feel bruises starting to color beneath his sweater. He didn’t bother to reply. As much as he wanted to curse the shopkeep to hell, talking back would probably just mean more violence. There were more important things for Grian to focus on.
As the shopkeep stormed out of the warehouse, Grian rolled onto his back, spreading his wings out flat beneath him as he caught his breath. There were no clocks in the warehouse, and the windows were so small and so high up that the only way to mark the time was by how bright it was outside. Scar had told him to wait until close to midnight. But what if he started the escape early, and Scar wasn’t there to break the warehouse open? What if he waited too long and Scar gave up waiting? Grian swallowed the lump of his throat. Worst of all, what if this was all some sadistic joke? Vexes weren’t typically known for their altruism. There was a chance he’d been sent back here to rot away with the faux hope he’d actually ever leave this place. The idea made him shudder.
As the light outside became the ruddy orange of late evening, Grian sat up, shuffling to the edge of his cage. He knocked on the bars, getting the attention of the avian locked next to him. She looked up at him warily, shying away.
“Hey,” Grian said quietly. “If you go up the road, they’ll hide you at El Matador Mattresses, and if you go down, you can hide at Concorp Contractors.”
She frowned, eyeing him distrustfully. Fair enough—Grian had never talked to her before. He’d stopped talking to the other hybrids a long time ago, when he’d realized anyone he connected to would be ripped away sooner or later. “How would I get outside in the first place?” She asked.
Grian stole a glance at the door to make sure no one was watching them. “I’ve got a hunch we’ll be out of here soon,” he whispered. “Just pass the message down, alright?“
The hybrid woman bit her lip, glancing down the row of cages. After a moment, she nodded, shuffling to the opposite end of her own cage to whisper the message to the next prisoner over. Once the message was passed on, she walked back over to sit next to Grian. “Are you sure it’s safe?” She whispered back. “People say Concorp is a shell company for some huge crime syndicate called the Convex. How do you know they won’t just cage and sell us too?”
“I don’t,” Grian said honestly. “It’s up to you if you risk trusting them or try to run for it on your own.”
The woman smiled, grabbing the bars of the cage, pressing her face up against it. “So you do have a way out?”
Grian smiled grimly. “Maybe. We’re going to find out tonight,” he said.
The hours dragged by. The shopkeep passed through to make a last check on his inventory, and a half dozen burly thugs with swords slowly filtered in to patrol the warehouse overnight. Grian reached into his sweater, gripping the keyring where it had been sewn in place above his heart.
‘Too many unvanished items could make you sick,’ Scar had told him. ‘And my scouts say they don’t search returned purchases as thoroughly as hybrids that just got kidnapped. The keyring is the smallest thing you’ll be smuggling in, but it’s also the most important. Be very careful.’
Finally, Grian stood up, ruffling his wings. There were a lot of cages in the warehouse. Even working as fast as he could, he wouldn’t be able to get all of them. He looked over at the avian woman in the cage next to his. “Hey. Uh…”
“Pearl,” she said, smiling.
“Grian,” he replied. He was nervous to trust her, but hey, he was already putting his trust in Scar, right? What was one more leap of faith? He snapped the threads holding the keyring inside his sweater, pulling it out. He pulled half of the keys off, holding them out through the bars of the cage.
Pearl’s eyes lit up—she looked less bird-like in the low light, her eyes wide and glassy, almost literally glowing. She was a moth avian, Grian realized. “How did you get these?” She whispered.
“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” Grian said, finding the key with the same number carved into it as was on the sign hung on his cage. “When you hear the signal, start letting as many people out as you can. We’ll have to be fast, or the shopkeep’s goons might call in backup.”
“What’s the signal?” Pearl asked solemnly.
Suddenly, the whole warehouse shook—somewhere in the distance, the sound of an explosion tore through the air. Despite himself, Grian burst into a grin, the widest smile he’d felt in nearly a year. “That’s the signal.”
He and Pearl both unlocked their cages, bursting out. Grian grabbed her hand, dragging her over to the row of enderians first. “Do any of you speak english?” He asked, flipping quickly through the keyring, wishing he was better at speaking galactic. Thankfully, though, the majority of the enderians raised their hands. “Great,” Grian said, quickly unlocking the first cage. The enchantment runes glowing on the bars of the cage flickered and faded, and purple particles started to glow around the enderian locked inside. Pearl followed his lead, hurrying to open the other cages. “Start teleporting as many people out as you can.” As the cages unlocked and the enchantments deactivated, the enderians started disappearing and reappearing, waking startled hybrids before dragging them out of their own prisons.
The chaos started to spread—from the shouting, the warehouse security knew a breakout had begun. Grian was about to unlock another cage when suddenly, a wooden crate materialized from thin air, landing heavily in his arms. Scar’s invisibility potions.
Grian smiled, and started hucking them into the crowd. There wasn’t nearly enough to cover all the hybrids, but this was a matter of chaos, not stealth. Somewhere, closer this time, there was another explosion. The thugs patrolling the warehouse were quickly being overwhelmed by the sheer number of angry unleashed hybrids.
“Grian!” Pearl yelled. “Behind you!”
Grian turned around, just in time to see a heavy netherite axe swinging straight down towards his skull.
Before he could so much as wince, there was a burst of electric blue sparks, a diamond blade appearing from thin air between Grian and the axe-wielding guard. Pearl lunged in, catching the sword by its hilt, just in time to deflect the axe. With a quick parry and a stab to the gut, she dispatched the thug, panting. “I don’t know where that sword came from, but that was too close,” she gasped. “We need a way out, fast. A panicked blaze hybrid started a fire.”
Grian glanced back, catching a glimpse of red flames starting to lick up the walls, smoke billowing up to the ceiling. It was small, but that wouldn’t last long. As much as he’d love for this damned warehouse to burn, he’d prefer all the hybrids got outside first. “We’re still waiting on someone,” Grian said, praying Scar would be there soon, that the man wouldn’t turn back now at the last moment. “Is everyone out of the cages?”
Pearl nodded shakily, glancing down with a startled frown as the diamond sword she was holding started to turn into dust. Realizing it was quickly falling apart, she tossed it aside. “Yes, but if we don’t get out now that won’t—“
A powerful explosion rocked the building. A wall of the warehouse crumbled, smoke pouring through like water from a broken dam. Blue electricity crackled along the shattered edges of the walls. Floating above the wreckage were two creatures, vaguely human in shape, with strange blue-gray skin and wide glowing smiles. Tattered wings made of light floated behind them, their spindly bodies cutting eerie silhouettes in the whole they’d left.
“Vex,” Grian said breathlessly.
As the panicked hybrids poured out into the streets, the pair of Vexes flew in, giggling wildly. One toppled empty cages, gleefully wrecking the neat rows. The other flew over to the small fire slowly spread up the walls, and with a snap, the flame turned a brilliant shade of blue, suddenly blazing across the warehouse like the inferno were a starving predator. Magic and light flashed and sparkles overhead, raining down chaos on those who fled, bringing hell on the guards trapped inside.
Pearl grabbed Grian’s hand, dragging him outside. “We need to go before they collapse the building!” She yelled, spreading her wings.
Grian stole one last glance behind him, and took off, the two of then flying off into the night.
“Uh, hi,” Grian said, rocking back on his heels as he greeted the stranger at the register. “I’d like to buy a mattress?”
It had been a little over week since the warehouse had burned to the ground. He’d been staying with Pearl at a small apartment in a secluded suburb, far away from the smoggy warehouse district they’d been held prisoner in. And now, he was back, only a few mile away from the place he’d spent a year trapped in.
The world had a funny way of surprising you.
The man behind the counter looked Grian up and down, narrowing his eyes for a moment. “Avian hybrid, green eyes, blonde hair, freckles…” they paused, smiling sheepishly. “Ah, sorry. Can I get a name for that mattress?”
Grian swallowed, taking a deep breath. “It’s, uh. Grian?”
The man behind the counter lit up. “Oh, really? I thought it might be, but I really didn’t think you’d show up!” He said cheerfully, his mustache curling up in a nice smile. “The owner will be chuffed to bits. Just head into the backroom,” he said, nodding towards a door marked ‘Employees Only.’
Grian nodded, walking over to the door. He had no reason to come here. He did what he’d been asked too. He’d earned his freedom, and be didn’t need a safehouse to help him escape, not when he had his own quick wits and Pearl’s help. But still, he couldn’t stop himself from coming. Slowly, he turned the doorknob.
Surprisingly, it was more or less what you might expect the backroom of a mattress store to look like. There were stacked mattresses, whiteboards covered in business jargon, and a few empty office desks. More like Grian expected, though, there was about fifty hybrids cramped into the small space, sleeping or eating of just sitting quietly. On the opposite end of the room, a small loading dock was open, about half a dozen people climbing into the back of a small delivery truck. As they got in, Scar was slowly building up a wall of mattresses, blocking the hybrids from view.
When the door creaked open, Scar glanced back, and his eyes lit up. “Grian!” A pair of tattered wings made of blue light burst from his back, and he flew across the narrow room, narrowly knocking over furniture and people alike before stumbling to a rough landing. “You came!”
Grian smiled a little, glancing around the room. “Looks a bit busy in here,” he joked.
Scar grinned. “Yep! This was the biggest building I could buy on short notice, but we’ve already helped several people get back to their old homes, or to other servers that are better at protecting hybrids,” he said enthusiastically. “Definitely keeping my hands full!”
“How do you afford an operation like this?” Grian wondered aloud.
Scar’s smile turned smug. “Well, once there’s no innocent people left inside, I make sure to rescue all the innocent diamonds too,” he said. He relaxed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t wearing the gaudy red suit today, instead, dressed in a half-buttoned bomber jacket and a wide-brimmed brown indy hat. A gray and white cat lay curled around his shoulders, opening one sleepy eye to peer at Grian judgingly. The look suited him much better, Grian decided. “So! Where do you need to get to? You were a great help to me, so it’s only fair I help you get home,” Scar said cheerfully.
“Actually,” Grian said slowly. “You’re… part of the Convex, right? Do you do this sort of thing all the time?“
Scar scratched his cheek absentmindedly, tilting his head to the side. “This specifically? No, not really. I mean, we do it a lot, but not all the time. There’s a lot of things we do,” he said thoughtfully. “Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like scamming hybrid traffickers! It’s funny watching everything they worked for fall apart.”
Grian took a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t know about whatever else it is you do, but when it comes to this kind of thing. I want to work with you.”
Scar broke into a grin so wide and bright it almost glowed. “Wait? Really? Ohhhh you’re not going to regret this! This is great, we’re going to commit so many crimes together,” he said, clapping his hands together in delight.
“No matter what happens, though,” Grian interrupted, “I still get my freedom. I’m holding you to our original deal. If I don’t like whatever we end up doing, I can leave whenever I want, right?”
Scar nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I was going to tear up the whole ‘proof of purchase’ papers anyway, you’re a free man. Bird. Hybrid guy,” he said.
Grian grinned. “Alright then. When do we burn down some more buildings?”