Chapter Text
Hidden in the darkest corner of the city, the air thick with blood and greed, sat a warehouse. Inside that warehouse, sat Tommy’s future. The Nether was dimly lit, the lights aimed toward the fight happening in the center of the room. Two large hybrids were blood covered, sweating and panting from exhaustion and desperation. It was life or death.
The stench made his stomach turn, had he had anything on it he would have been sick. Instead he was left to watch the fight from his cage on the floor, the metal rough against his exposed skin. The chain connecting to his ankle was quickly rubbing the skin raw. He’d been in this exact cage for a few hours, a slightly larger one for months before.
What exactly was the Nether? The first time he had heard the word, Tommy had asked the same question. That was before he had been trained, only speak when spoken to. The Nether was the largest underground ring for illegal hybrid fights, selling the more lucky of the group. The ones that were too weak to fight, or too valuable to risk damaging. Hybrids like Tommy.
He wasn’t born with the brawn of the bear or lion hybrids fighting in the ring, no. He was cursed with wings, ugly and bent. Their once bright red and gold had dulled from years of malnutrition, and they had been broken more times than Tommy could remember. Each time more painful than the last.
Although he was tall, a little above six feet, he had been horribly starved his entire life. His owner wanted the weight gone, a thought that still made Tommy sick to his stomach once he’d realized the true intentions behind it. He was already thin, hollow bones and all, but this man was worse to him than any of the rest had been. His jaw still had a bruise on it, clearly visible even in the low light.
Feathers lined his hairline, tipping his ears and continuing down his neck to his back, where they met his wings. Despite the fact that he was an herbivore (not by choice, meat simply made him violently ill), his teeth were pointed and uniform, more than capable of ripping flesh if needbe. And warding off humans that got a bit too touchy.
A crash sounded, tearing him from his thoughts and bringing him back into the Nether. Someone was hurt. Someone was dying, and the humans simply didn’t care. All they cared about was their money they’d lost. The bear was declared the winner, and the humans moved to rid the floor of the lion’s body.
Something slammed against his cage, making him jump. Then his owner’s voice, from behind him. He didn’t have enough room to fully turn around, so he had to simply listen. “That’s right, he’s almost an adult. He’s been clipped though, so he won’t give you too much shit.”
Every time it was brought up, Tommy had to choke back a sob. When he was young, a previous owner had clipped his wings, making it so that he could never fully fly. The bastards stole the one thing he had going for him.
Another voice responded, one that Tommy didn’t recognize. His talons began picking at his shirt hem without realizing it. “That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”
“Look, do you want him, or not?” The tone made Tommy flinch, despite the fact that he was safer in the cage than he was outside of it.
“Can I look at him? That was part of the deal.”
A huff, then, “go ahead. Hundred thousand, remember.”
Tommy was sitting cross legged, so when the stranger walked around to the front of the cage and knelt down in front of him, it took him by surprise. He wore a green cloak, a bit too bright for Tommy’s liking. He had dirty brown hair, and the strangest part of the man was the mask over his face. A simple smiling face, crudely drawn on.
The mask seemed to stare into him, causing him to raise his lip in a snarl. Although he was panicking, his breaths coming short and quick, he couldn’t lose it here. So he had to put up a front. A low growl came from his throat, almost involuntary.
The man stared at him a bit longer before standing up. “I’ll take him.”
Tommy didn’t know how much time had passed. The last thing he remembered was the sharp prick of a needle in his arm, and fighting sleep against the bars of his cage. And now he was laying on… something.
Waking up a bit more he tried sitting up, his joints aching from being contained in such a small space for so long. He was in a small room, the only thing in it being a large circular mat, the sides raised as if making a bowl. It was rather comfortable, if he was being honest. There was a door to the left of him, which had a highly technical looking lock on it.
He stood, shaking his feathers into place as he did. Or, as best as he could. His wings looked horrible, he knew. He was never allowed to preen himself, his owner said it annoyed him. When the base of his wings shook it hurt, making him gasp. He hadn’t straightened his wings out fully in months, and he felt the repercussions. As if someone had been outside listening for a sound, there was a knock at the door.
His breathing picked up once more, heart pounding. There was a call of “I’m coming in, okay?” Before the door opened. Tommy puffed his wings out behind him, ignoring how it ached to do so. Teeth bared, he watched as a man entered his room.
He was quite a bit shorter than Tommy, dark brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a white coat, and there was something hanging from his neck, like a lanyard. He didn’t appear to be a threat, but Tommy knew better than to assume anything. He growled, a warning.
“Good morning, Tommy. My name’s George. I just want to ask you a few questions, and then I’ll get your breakfast.” He pulled out a notebook and pen, looking to Tommy. “Can you speak?”
At that Tommy snarled, clenching his hands. “Of course I can fucking speak, dick head! What kind of dumb ass question is that?”
George wrote something down, nodding. “Got it. Silly me, you can most definitely speak. Do you know if you’re allergic to anything?” Tommy just stared at him blankly. What did that even mean? Why would he know, other than the fact that meat made him sick. “Alright. And finally, how are you feeling?”
And honestly, how was he feeling? He was out of a cage for the first time in years, and everything felt too large. He felt too small, too out of proportion. He felt large inside the cage. His wings were hurting like they always were, and he was fucking starving. “I’m fucking fine, why are you asking? You said I’d get food.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his wings dropping a bit. The left one was shaking uncontrollably, and felt as if it might go numb. But he wasn’t about to drop them completely. George stared at him for a second too long. “Yes, I did. Give me just a moment.”
When George turned and left the room Tommy immediately let his wings droop, knowing that he wouldn’t have the energy to pick them up again. The thought made him sick to his stomach.
He had a second to think. What was he going to do? This didn’t seem to be the usual owner dynamic, which he was infinitely thankful for. George didn’t seem to want to hurt him, and truthfully, even if he did Tommy would have his talons out in a second. Each of his fingertips curved into hard nails, black in color. His feet did the same, although he only had four toes, curved like a bird’s with talons on the end. Needless to say, he was always barefoot.
George knocked again, entering with a tray. It smelled absolutely fantastic. He didn’t feel an ounce of remorse when he grabbed it from George’s hands, growling as he did so. George just rolled his eyes, watching as he brought the tray over to the pillow bowl.
“Doctor Dream will be in in a bit, it’s fine if you haven’t finished eating.” Then he was gone, shutting the door on his way out.
Tommy tore the lid off the try, throwing it towards the door. On the plate was a piece of toast, some round green things, and a few long pieces of something that Tommy had never seen before. It smelled heavenly, and he didn’t hesitate to pick up a strip and stuff the entire piece into his mouth.
It tasted salty, and Tommy’s pupils dilated with happiness. It tasted phenomenal, and something primal within him screamed to eat it all, to keep it for himself before anyone took it. The rest was gone in seconds, the toast soon following. All that was left were the green circles, as he picked up to observe.
He must have held it too tightly, his talon poking a hole in the thing. Liquid dropped down his claw to his wrist, and he watched it intently. It smelled sweet, as when he poked his tongue out to taste it, it was almost bitter. It was good.
He inhaled the rest of them, until the plate had been completely cleared. He set it to the side after licking it clean. Full for the first time that he could remember, his stomach sat almost heavy with all the food.
There was another knock at the door, Tommy only raising his shoulders in a defensive position. A new man walked into the room, smiling widely at Tommy. His hair was dirty blonde and he had green eyes, watching the hybrid curiously. He looked almost the same as-
“Are you my owner?” He asked bluntly, confused when the man’s face contorted into something that looked almost sad. “I recognize you. Why didn’t you show your face, you prick?”
The man had on a deep green shirt, a white coat similar to George’s over top of it. “I’m the one that rescued you, yeah. But I’m not your owner. You don’t have an owner anymore Tommy, just call me Dream.” He brought another notebook like George had, although he sat down in the floor near Tommy, leaving himself defenseless. “I’m the doctor for hybrids here at the Origins center for wildlife. I don’t guess you’ve heard of us?”
Tommy didn’t dare sit down, choosing to keep his height advantage. “What the fuck do you mean, I don’t have an owner?” He took a single step back. He’d never been told he didn’t have an owner. His mind short circuited, he didn’t know how to deal with that information. “Tell me what you mean!”
Dream jotted something down, then glanced at the blonde. “I mean exactly what I said. You’re free. I just want to make sure you’re healthy, then I’ll-“
“Fucking let me out!” He was free? But he wasn’t. He was still captive. He wasn’t chained, but Dream was obviously in control here. Tommy didn’t know what to do. He’d never been let out of a cage for longer than a few minutes in years, the bars more familiar than these walls, far too big and open and dangerous. “If I’m free, then let me out!”
“I will, I promise. But you’re sick, so we need to make you feel better before you go.” Dream wasn’t writing anymore, instead just watching Tommy as he struggled to breathe. His chest felt right, like someone was gripping his lungs with a tight fist. Breathing hurt in a way that he’d felt a thousand times before, but had never been able to express.
“Put me back in the fucking cage. Put me back, I’ll fucking kill you!” He raised his wings once again, the pain radiating down his back. The pain was so intense that he faltered, his left wing dropping and body convulsing. “Fuck!”
Dream stood up slowly, seeing the panic unfolding before him. He held his hands out, seemingly not scared of Tommy’s talons. “Where does it hurt, Tommy? Please, I want to help you, you can trust me. I only want to help you.” One hand stretched out, reaching toward Tommy’s own.
Fingers wrapped around claw, and Tommy didn’t pull away. This was the first person who had ever said that they wanted to help him. He’d only ever been used and mistreated, there had never been any saving grace for him. Could he actually try and trust this man?
Claws tightened against flesh, not tight enough to pierce the flesh. Dream’s eyes were kind and gentle, an emotion that had never been pointed at him before. He felt something inside him break, and for the first time in his life, he decided to trust.