Winginnit Future AU

Wilbur's Backstory

Wilbur POV

I sat on a bed staring at the wall blankly—it was dark, but for the light of the moon that peaked through the blinds onto the floor before me. I felt the world quiet around me slowly, the patter of raindrops fading in and out of dissonance, the trilling of crows as they called each other to bed, and the faintest tapping sound of mice skittering about in the attic above. My thoughts were slow and calm, as though treading through molasses in the world of my mind. Soon I would need to leave this place, this home, though it was never much of one. In a brief interlude of the sound, I heard a brief, yet out of place creak.

I dove to the side, and saw a smoking piece of electronic hardware lodged in the wall that I'd been staring at so intensely for the past moments. A cloaked figure stood in the entrance of my room, holding a smoking prox gun. This person—whoever it was, intended to kill me—was blocking my only escape, or so they must have thought. I rolled under the bed and pushed up on the mattress above me, dislodging a pocket knife that I'd hidden there for such situations. The figure slowly stalked towards the bed, keeping low as though waiting for me to attack.

I, never being one to disappoint, waited for it to get in range, then shoved the mattress up as hard as I could, flipping it over onto it. It let out a muffled grunt in surprise, and I climbed out over it, throwing open the window. Pulling myself up and over the lip of the window, I began running across the rooftop, no easy feat considering the harsh angle of the rooftop combined with the pouring rain. I'd never liked violence and tried to avoid it where I could, preferring to run away instead of facing it head on.

I looked up as my feet pounded on the brittle shingles, and spotted the cloaked figure from before matching my pace on a higher rooftop across the way. I cursed and, using an old fire escape, I slid down onto the street, and ran down the nearest alley way. Then diving into a pile of trash I covered myself completely with whatever I could reach, which just so happened to be a particularly wretched smelling bag of rotting food. I gagged but held my breath as I heard footsteps approaching. I could only hope that my pursuer had not seen me disguising myself.

Two voices began speaking, the sound echoing in the alleyway so that even I could hear from my distance.

"Techno, you can't kill every orphan you find!" The first spoke, its voice low and calm.

"I know, but this one, this one was smart! It was going to be a thrilling hunt, Phil, the voices were excited!" The other spoke, it's voice somewhat muffled yet still its excitement showed through.

"Tech, you aren't thinking straight, you need to calm down, you're letting them get to you," the first voice returned, concerned.

"Fine, but if I find it, I'm killing it Phil," the second returned resignedly.

The first voice sighed, "I can't say I won't try to stop you Tech, we are on patrol after all."

The second grunted in what seemed to be agreeance, and that's when it hit me. The second voice was the person who had been chasing me. I felt my body lock up, half-way between running for my life and being frozen to the spot. The footsteps became closer and closer, I realized that this very well could be my last moments if I didn't get the hell out of here. My disguise would not hold under scrutiny, of that I was sure. So when the static coming from a radio on one of the men sounded it, it spooked me so much so, that I abandoned my hiding spot, booking down the alley.

I heard the cry of the man who had pursued me earlier and the cry of the other calling after him. With barely any light to guide my feet on the slick stoned pavement, I found myself skidding around a sharp corner, and before I could stop myself, I crashed into the alley wall. I scrambled to my feet and felt a sharp pain crack up my leg as I put my weight on it, and I collapsed, curling into a ball. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out my small pocket knife, flicking it open, but keeping it concealed, I wanted to make him think I was down. I heard footsteps slow, approaching, concealed out of my view. I remained relaxed as the man kicked my back lightly to ensure that I was indeed 'knocked-out', which of course was what I intended him to think.

He knelt down beside me, his breath hot and rancid in my ear, "I know you're awake kid."

I felt my heart jump to my throat with terror, and I knew it was now or never. Thinking fast I twisted around and, aiming my knife, I stabbed directly towards his throat. My knife stopped inches from his throat, it seemed he had been expecting my attack, and restrained my hand. Then using his other hand he pinned me to the ground, and disarmed me.

There was a great flapping of wings and the first voice from before spoke, "Tech, you can't keep killing every orphan you find."

Wait, had they been talking about me before? Tech, was that the man's name? Did they think I was an orphan? Technically my parents were still alive, they just didn't want me, so technically not an orphan, right?

"Why not?" Tech returned, crouching over me, as though to hide me from the other man's gaze.

"Well because-," the man started.

"I have parents! I'm not an orphan!" I cried out, my voice cracking.

"-see, Tech, it even says it's not an orphan!" The man continued.

Tech grumbled and got off me, and I scrambled to the side limping from my initial collision with the wall.

"You alright there kid?" The man asked, now seeing him, he was scarier than Tech—who was quite menacing on his own—I was terrified. He had large black crow wings and was regaled in a long black cape that hovered just above the puddles on the ground. That's when I recognized it, the insignia on the cloak, they were Sentinels.

"Kid?" The man asked again, waiting for my answer.

"I'm fine," I squeaked out, my voice shaking.

"You sure? That's quite a limp you have there," the man questioned.

"Phil, he said he's fine, let's just finish our patrol," Tech interjected.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I said with more confidence, "I've had worse before." That much was true, my father had made sure of it, I winced at the memory.

"Let's just go Phil," Tech said, obviously annoyed now. Phil—I think that was what Tech had called him—just kept on staring at me, his facial features a mix of emotions that seemed to be all pulling at each other.

Then he spoke, "I feel bad kid, at least let us escort you home, it's late out you know."

"I'll be good, I don't need any sort of 'escort' home, thanks though," I added, beginning to limp away towards an exit out of the alley. Father would kill me if I brought back Sentinels to the house.

"You're sure?" Phil called after me.

"Yes sir," I said, raising my voice to a more confident tone, turning back to continue my way out of the alley. As soon as I was out of the alley way I began sprinting, my leg didn't hurt as much as I let them think, but still I couldn't go as fast as I normally would along this stretch of the street. I stopped finally after I had gone at least a mile, and slowed to a fast-paced walk, I was near the house. I felt myself falter at the idea of going in there, they—my parents—had kicked me out for the night, as they were having guests over. Who these 'guests' were I could never guess at, my parents didn't have very many friends. Any guests were bad news for me though, as it meant I'd have to leave the house and find somewhere to stay for who knows how long. I went up to the stoop and knocked slowly, my mother opened the door slowly.

"What are you doing here! You smell awful! You're lucky your father didn't answer the door he would've beat you to a pulp for showing up like this!" She whisper-yelled at me.