Winginnit Future AU

WB 3

Wilbur POV

"IS ANYONE DOWN HERE!" An urgent voice called. I tried to shake off my confusion, why couldn't I see...right I was in the closet. Whose voice was that...it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hello?" I croaked out, "Who's there?"

"WHERE ARE YOU, I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU, HOLD ON," It returned.

"The closet, but it needs a key," I called louder. Rain...rooftops-

"STAND BACK, I'M GOING TO BREAK IT DOWN," it called out.

The cloaked man who had chased me! That's who it was, I felt myself freeze up with terror as the door's hinges splintered and the whole door frame was picked up and tossed away. I hid my face in the blanket as a shower of splinters sprayed out from where the door had been, wretched from its place of use. I peaked out from the blanket, greeted with blood-red eyes and a smile, perhaps he didn't recognize me. It had been dark when we'd met so perhaps it was not all too dismissible of a thought... The man picked me up, and carrying me bridal style, took me up the stairs and into the living room of my home. I blinked my eyes against the brightness of the lights trying to adjust, and saw the carnage of my mother's once orderly living room. Books, broken chairs and tables, along with pieces of warped metal littered the floor. The pieces looked almost mechanical in nature, as though at one point in their life they had been functional marvels of technology. It was weirdly familiar, as though...my thoughts were interrupted by the realization that the man was still carrying me.

"I can walk, I don't need you to carry me, sir," I said, making my voice lower so that he perhaps wouldn't recognize me. My heart pounded in my chest, my stomach tying a knot in my throat.

The man only grunted in response as he opened the front door, and we stepped out into the blazing light of midday, and I reflexively shielded my eyes.

He set me down, and I swayed for a moment—my leg beginning to throb slightly—and started aggressively blinking my eyes trying to adjust to the sunlight.

"Jeez kid, if you keep blinking your eyes so hard you're gonna lose all your eyelashes," a voice laughed. I squinted trying to make out the source, then stumbled back as realization hit me like cold water. It was him, from the night before, the one with the wings. The man crouched over me, offering me his hand to pull me up. I could only stare at it with distrust, and so, I stood, on my own.

Suddenly as though all the happiness that had been in his voice just a second ago turned into concern, "Are you alright there?"

"I'm quite alright, thank you," I said, gritting my teeth, the injury to my leg from last night splintering through my thoughts with a vengeance.

I stepped around the winged-man and began walking away from the shack of a home where I had lived. I didn't turn around, I could smell the ash in the air, whatever had happened I wasn't about to be a part of it.

"Wait—kid! We need to ask you some questions!" The voice of the winged-man called after me. Instead of turning, I began a full-out sprint, my body screaming at me as I did. I heard the feet of the once-cloaked man—who had carried me from the house, and chased me the night before—pound on the pavement behind me. I quickly turned down an alley and leapt onto the hanging ladder of a fire escape, and began pulling myself up as fast as I could. I felt the structure shake, and looked down to see the man fast approaching up the ladder. I continued climbing, adrenaline rushing through my veins and I pulled myself to the top, gasping for air. I had not a moment to rest though as the man with the wings landed beside me, offering a hand up. I coughed as dust from the grit that covered the rooftop got into my throat. He rested a hand on my back, my body becoming almost paralyzed at his touch.

"Please let us help you, it's the least we can do, after...," he said, stopping himself, his eyes pleading with mine, which glared back.

"Why," I spat out, tears brimming the edges of my eyes, "Why do you want to help me? I'm more worthless now than ever...she left didn't she?"

The man looked down before replying quietly, "Yes—I mean if you were referring to the woman who lived there, she seemed kind, she was the one who tipped us off about the place."

"And he's...," I started, not knowing the words to complete the sentence.

"He's been...disposed of," he finished.

I laughed slightly, feeling the tears begin to spill over, no longer fighting to keep it contained, "You Sentinels really know how to get a job done, though I suppose you could never leave a loose end alone."

"A loose end?" He questioned.

"Don't tell me you forgot about last night...," A manic—almost Cheshire—grin spread across my face, "How delusional of me, to think, a Sentinel, remember me...enough to save me?!...". I dissolved into fits of disgruntling giggles. My childish hope, always and forever a lost wish, never to come true. My old man was right, he'd always been right in the end it seemed, Sentinels didn't care, they never had never would. They weren't heroes...they weren't perfect.

This winged-man, what was his name, I think it was Phil or something, looked on, almost horror-stricken, and couldn't seem to move. I heard the heavy breathing of the other man as he leaned over me, and felt a small prick in my neck. Immediately, drowsiness spread through my body, and I felt my body relax. I didn't fight the unconsciousness as it spread through my body, the gentle whirring of my heart lulling me to sleep.