Chapter Text
Per aspera ad astra.
Through hardship, to the stars.
Crucible is one of the most notorious villains in Capital City, but just a year ago he was just another ordinary kid living in the poorest districts, running from kidnappers who hunted him relentlessly for his hybrid attributes. Dragon and avian hybrids are not exactly common after all, and since he was half of two extremely rare species, even his blood would be worth thousands of gold blocks, emeralds, and diamonds. Netherite bars are unmatched, but his wings would be sold for at least a few whole packs of this ore found only in the nether, accessible to only a select few of the elite.
Basically, he grew up with a target on his back. His mother and father were killed when he was little, and their parts were sold long ago. He survived by pure luck, as he was worth more alive than dead at that time. Fleeing from place to place, his horns, wings, and tail always made him stand out from the crowd. For a long time, he thought he would falter and meet his end on an underground operating table surrounded by hybrid traffickers, but he found strength where some would have despaired. He would not die so easily. He would not allow anyone the pleasure of dismembering and dehumanizing him as they had done to his parents.
When he was fourteen, already adapted to the streets and knowing how to hide from the sight of those hired to catch him, he found another boy like him in an alley he was thinking of sleeping in that night, a hybrid of avian and something he couldn't identify. His name? Eggchan—strange, he knows, but who is he to judge? He named himself after all—the other boy had a pair of delicate wings that wrapped around his face, and when he wanted to, he could show another face, a floating eyeball with a sea-blue iris and black pupil. The first time Wemmbu saw him in this humanoid form, a little later that same night, he almost had a heart attack. but before he could process the strangeness of it all, Eggchan's voice echoed in his head and immediately calmed him in a supernatural way. Apparently, the other's ability was telepathy and empathy, which was good, since his other form had no visible mouth, and he could also reassure Wemmbu so that the dragon hybrid wouldn't freak out when he saw his other face. Both were apparently running away from the same people. Eggchan is the result of a very rare mutation, the product of a cross between an aviary and a being that neither of them knew how to name.
In the end, they formed a good team. Eggchan was the brains behind all the thefts Wemmbu committed in stores, markets, and pharmacies. The one with white feathers was especially skilled when it came to coming up with solutions, and honestly, Wemmbu survived for so long thanks to him. By the time they were sixteen, Wemmbu had already learned to keep his wings hidden as much as possible, which meant he kept them tucked against his back and wore a long, dark piece of cloth as a cape to cover them, his tail, which started at the base as black scales like concrete dyed with black pigment that went halfway down its length and then spread out into a fan of obsidian-colored feathers and plumage, was wrapped around his waist like a fancy belt that was camouflaged under his shirts, which were always too long, his horns, smooth and elegantly curved backward, could not be hidden even under a hood, but people thought he was a common demon hybrid when he went out like that.
Eggchan couldn't do much about the wings on the side of his head, so Wemmbu usually helped him wrap a cloth around them in a way that was comfortable and at the same time useful for hiding them. Honestly, they were doing well. Stealing wasn't exactly ideal, and of course, they could be better off, but until they could get clothes their size and a bath that wasn't with rainwater and cheap soap that irritated their feathers and scales, they both had to put up with it.
One day, when Wemmbu went out again to steal some wallets so they could have a decent meal and new shoes, he ended up choosing the wrong target, and when the dog hybrid he stole realized what had happened, he started chasing the younger one. The canine's sense of smell allowed him to keep track of Wemmbu's very distinctive scent, so the avian and dragon hybrid was really in trouble. He looked back from time to time to see if he had lost the other hybrid, only to see angry eyes and ears fixed on him. The young boy was already getting tired. He hadn't eaten a full meal since forever, so his reserves were constantly low, and no hybrid attributes would help him with that. Suddenly, he bumped into someone's solid back and fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. His wings ended up painfully scraping against the ground under his cape. A grumble from above made him look at who he had bumped into, but he saw no angry eyes, only a strip of dark burgundy silk staring at him, round ears standing up and a tail frozen in the air, the tip with cream-colored fur twitching. The other's lips were pursed, and Wemmbu could see sharp fangs when the hybrid spoke.
“Watch where you're going, brat.”
Their tail whipped the air once, then twice, as the anthropomorphic dog hybrid emerged from around the corner, panting and gasping from having chased the pickpocket for almost ten minutes, its tail raised alertly when it encountered not just a thieving puppy, but a savannah beast in the middle of the concrete jungle.
“That boy, do you know him? He stole my money!”
Although intimidated, the labrador was not going to give up his wallet so easily. Wemmbu cowered on the ground and hissed indignantly.
“I didn't do anything! You're chasing me for no reason!”
He flattened his feathered ears, too small to be noticed at first, under wavy strands of dull purple hair. The lion hybrid let out a rumbling growl from deep in his throat, irritated at being disturbed by theirs voices.
“Enough! You'd better find someone else to bother.”
The lion hybrid lifted his upper lip to reveal his deadly fangs, and a yelp more like a squeal escaped the dog, who tucked his ears and hid his tail between his legs before running away back to the hole he came from.
“What a waste of time.”
The redhead grumbled at the pathetic sight and resumed walking in the direction he had been going before being interrupted by Wemmbu's shoulder bump in his back, his tail swaying from side to side in frustration. The younger one watched him walk away and for a second deliberated his next steps before jumping toward the lion hybrid and silently following him.
It was obvious that the guy with the blindfold was aware of his presence, his ears twitching and moving back from time to time, his tail low and swaying slowly. Wemmbu had only lived with Eggchan, who was basically a quiet person and didn't show much emotion, since his ability could end up manifesting itself unintentionally and could affect others if he got too excited, but Wemmbu could recognize the movements of the tail and ears instinctively, perhaps his dragon side speaking, since most aviaries don't have tails and use feathered ears and wings to communicate, or at least he and Egg do.
“Kid, stop following me.”
Finally, the other recognized his presence, ears flattened and tail whipping the air, Wemmbu snorted and his black feathered ears stood up.
“I just wanted to thank you for scaring that dog away for me.”
Wemmbu, despite being proud of having survived for so long on his own, had learned a lot from Egg about socializing. The other aviary hybrid had a good understanding of emotions thanks to his ability and taught him a lot about social interactions, since before, Wemmbu rarely spoke to other people and avoided showing himself to others for fear that his captors would find him again. Being grateful was the right thing to do. If that labrador had caught him, he probably would have beaten him up.
“I didn't do anything for you, your high-pitched voices were annoying me. That's all.”
The older one tilted his head up, his chin raised confidently and his neck exposed not in submission but in defiance. He wore a spiked collar there, protecting the skin of his jugular. Wemmbu had seen hybrids wearing protective gear around their necks before, but never spikes.
“Besides, you bumped into me and crushed my tail.”
The redhead continued, irritated at the memory of the sensation that made his hair stand on end. Wemmbu shrank timidly; tails were usually sensitive, and it was offensive to even brush against them.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to.”
The older man sighed at the lame excuse, exhaling through his nose as he looked at the ragged boy in front of him. Most children in the badlands district are orphans or neglected/abandoned by their parents to fend for themselves, so it's normal for the area to have a high rate of theft and robbery. Youth and child deaths are also common there, whether as a result of desperate acts or bad luck. Mane was once like that boy, but he fought tooth and nail to survive at any cost. He respected that little demon's boldness.
“Next time, don't look back, it slows you down.”
With that, he quickly entered an alley to scape the annoying kid, and when Wemmbu went to follow him, he found only a stained wall, a rusty fire escape, and no trace of the lion hybrid.
Wemmbu had just turned nineteen when he encountered a hero face to face for the first time.
He and Eggchan had recently found an abandoned apartment in the Copper district, not much better than the Badlands, but there were many abandoned buildings there due to the structural instability of the area, something in the soil, they said, or rather, Egg said. The place was dusty, with broken windows, missing hinges, and unusable plumbing, but it was a roof over their heads and a floor slightly less uncomfortable than that of an alley. Egg had sent him to buy some screws so they could barricade the windows with old boards they found near the building. Wemmbu went very reluctantly. He had been uncomfortable for the past few weeks and felt itchy on his horns, wings, and tail almost constantly. According to his feathered friend, he was almost reaching full maturity, which is faster in dragons, hence his discomfort. Soon, his wings and tail could no longer be hidden by a few pieces of fabric, as his wings would grow to be twice his height and his tail would likely thicken to be used as a whip.
He found a corner market and went inside, heading straight for the construction section, which was relatively small. He picked up the cheapest pack of nails he could find for three iron nuggets and went to the cashier. As the clerk was scanning the product, the glass doors of the market shattered with a crash and a body flew through it. Wemmbu grunted and the clerk let out a squeak at the sight. Both watched in shock as the hero Alatus calmly entered the store, his boots crushing the shards of glass that had once been a door, his wings raised proudly on his back, the golden feathers glistening in the afternoon light. In his hands he held obsidian handcuffs, which he placed on the wrists of the apparent villain, who was unconscious from the impact against the glass. Only then did he deign to acknowledge the two civilians present.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, the heroes' tower will cover the damages.”
With a quick goodbye, he left the way he came in, with yellow feathers like gold in tow, carrying the unconscious body of what Wemmbu deduced to be a vigilante. Villains are not so easily defeated by a player fresh out of field training and an internship under a more experienced hero.
Egg will want to hear about this. Wemmbu hurried to pay for the nails he had come for and ran to the apartment he would call home for the next few months.
When he finally reached the dilapidated door that separated his new home from the outside world, he found Egg picking up debris and trash from the floor and throwing it out the window. The other turned when he heard the door opening, his only visible eye wrinkling at the corners when he saw Wemmbu.
“You're finally back, man. I thought you got lost in the concrete jungle.”
The taller one joked. Recently, the white-feathered one had grown to an absurd height, but the dragon hybrid was confident that he would regain his position as the tallest soon.
“Hi to you too.”
He finally relaxed his tail and wings, letting them become visible. His feathers were messy, some falling out while he slept or moved too much, and his scales were also a little dull.
“Did you bring the nails? Let's close these windows, and you can tell me why you took so long.”
Egg took the package when Wemmbu lifted it half-heartedly. The white-feathered one usually sounded indifferent, but he could sense the other's emotions at the edges of his mind. Curiosity was like the bubbling of a potion being brewed.
“Remember when we passed that TV store and they were showing on TV that a new hero had debuted? I saw him today.”
He picked up a board from the ground and a worn hammer they had found at an abandoned construction site not far away. Egg opened the plastic package and took a few nails in his hand while Wemmbu positioned the wood in the best way to cover one of the holes in the first window they were closing.
“Hmm, Alatus was his name, right? A avian, as I recall, with golden wings.”
Eggchan handed him a nail, watching Wemmbu quickly hammer it into place, securing one corner of the board. Three more to go now.
“Yes, exactly that one. He grabbed a vigilante and threw him against the glass door of the market I was in. The guy was unconscious when he was handcuffed.”
Wemmbu grimaced as he remembered, now that he stopped to think about it, that guy must have some nasty stitches to get now, broken glass and shards are a pain in the ass, he remembers the time he ended up falling on a broken bottle while running away from a cop a few weeks ago, Egg had to remove all the pieces from between his feathers and scales and it was horrible.
“Heroes have no sense of space, bro, they always break something.”
Egg's pearly white wings shrank as he handed the last nail to Wemmbu, who remained silent as he hammered it into the bottom edge of the board, securing it firmly to the wall. Nine boards were now missing.
“Yeah... But this is the lower districts, who cares about a glass door?”
Yeah. This whole thing sucks.
When it was already eight o'clock at night, they finally finished barricading the last window. They sat on the floor surrounded by two backpacks, one containing clothes and the other containing food, medicine, and hygiene products they had managed to gather. Eggchan took out a packet of salted peanuts to share, and they both slept on the floor that night while it drizzled outside. Finally, they had a roof over their heads and would no longer get wet from the rain. The next morning, Wemmbu found a bucket that was miraculously standing upright, filled with rainwater. He and Egg used the water to wash themselves with a cloth and soap that always left them itchy, but at least in the end they were clean and decent. They put on the last clean pair of clothes they had in the other backpack, so Wemmbu would have to go to a laundromat to wash them, or they could steal new ones.
Egg counted the nuggets they had, five gold and thirteen iron. It wouldn't be enough to buy even a used shirt and pants. The dragon hybrid saw no reason to spend money on clothes, even if they could afford it. It was ridiculously easy to steal from thrift stores, honestly, no one wanted to end up having to deal with Law, so most establishments in the poorer districts either lived under the protection that was more like tyranny from some criminal group or at the mercy of attacks they couldn't repel or retaliate against, but that wasn't Wemmbu's problem. He needs to survive, and if stealing is necessary, he will do it. He left that day with an empty backpack and would return with it full, even if someone had to face his claws to do so. Eggchan insisted he wanted vests and blazers, so Wemmbu had to look for some work until he found a thrift store that had a section dedicated to “formal” clothing. There was only one person there, the cashier, a lizard hybrid teenager who chewed gum so loudly that it seemed she didn't know how to chew with her mouth closed, her eyes fixed on her cell phone screen. The aviary-dragon hybrid pretended to choose some clothes to try on in the store's only fitting room, which was a narrow cubicle that didn't even have a mirror.
Wemmbu stuffed two white button-down shirts, a black vest, a purple blazer, and black pants into the backpack he hid behind his tattered cape. It was uncomfortable to put the backpack back on because of his wings, and the straps were so loose that the backpack hit below his hips, but he needed those clothes. When he decided he was ready, he peeked out from behind the dressing room curtain and realized that the employee had gone somewhere, as she was no longer behind the counter. So he took the opportunity to run out of the place. He ran until he was satisfied with the distance and rested in an alley, feeling his heart beat like a rumbling drum behind his rib cage as he leaned against the cold wall, his ears restless as the noises of the district served as white noise for his restless mind. Whenever he had to do this, sneak and steal, he felt like a pathetic little mouse stealing from a pantry, each crumb like another nail in his coffin, definitive, marking him as a failure. He is just another one of the dirt of the lower districts, nothing more than a number on a spreadsheet that the superiors sigh at while they think about how to eradicate them without it looking like a mass slaughter.
Wemmbu wondered long ago when a hero would come to his rescue and free him from his captors, but with each passing day he remained in his cramped cage, eating and drinking from a dog bowl, shivering from the cold that penetrated his skin and settled in his bones, his hopes slipped through his fingers like water. Every time those men came to see him, inspecting his wings as if they were a relic to be torn from his dying body, hatred seeped into his heart. If he even raised his eyes or moved his tail in a way they didn't like, they would teach him a lesson for being "insubordinate", whipping his back and legs until his throat was raw with his cries of pain, until he could no longer move without feeling as if every part of him was in pure agony, and in the end they would leave him there as if he were less than dust beneath their ever-polished shoes.
Wemmbu choked on the memories of his childhood, feeling his face wet, he looked up, but saw no clouds above the buildings, he touched his face with his clawed fingers instead of fingernails and took a deep breath as he felt the traces of tears on his cheeks, his ears were tucked against his head, his tail wrapped firmly around his stomach, his wings ruffled and almost visible under his dark cover.
He had to get back before Egg got too worried.