Severe Trigger Warning
This chapter is STRONG in violence and description of injuries along with fear reactions.
Also distinct tones of racism (Hybrid vs Human).
Mentions of: Blood, Gore, Dislocation, Head Trauma, Emotional Trauma, Threats of Mutilation, Death Threats, Strangulation, Manhandling, Racism/Speciesist(sp?), Black Market References, ect.
If this is not for you, fear not. The next chapter will glance over any pertinent information mentioned here enough so that you don't need to read it specifically.
Xx-XxX-xX
The first thing he was aware of was the throbbing of his skull. A spiking pain that caused him to wince far before the thought of opening his eyes even crossed his mind. With a groan he tried to roll onto his side, only slightly aware of the cold stone under him. Very quickly, though, he realized his movements were limited and not just from being sluggish. His wings ached behind him, folded and bent wrong enough to hurt, though not enough to damage them…he hoped. A second, more pointed, attempt to bring his arms forwards confirmed that his hands were bound behind him as well.
….
Well fuck.
Chancing to force his eyes open Wilbur was met with the familiar sight of the stone basement that had housed Tommy earlier. He allowed himself a mild sense of relief at that. At least he was still in a place his family would know to check.
The hell had happened?
The last he could recall he…
…he was turning back for the house.
He had promised to grab Techno's weapons for him.
He had…
…He had wanted to look the place over before they left it.
To check for survivors.
For…
…For familiar faces.
Wilbur swallowed hard, his throat was rather dry and the humidity in the room only served to add to his discomfort.
Was…was this what Tommy had felt?
Is this what his baby brother had gone through? The bite of rope tied far too tight around his wrists, wings forced closed and together to the point of muscle strain and lungs weighted down with the moist hot air around him?
Wilbur wasn't gagged, but he still had to take a pointed moment to draw in what breath he could due to the binds around his chest meant to keep his wings from opening. An obvious side effect being restricted lung capacity even if he could keep it even.
And he needed to keep it even.
Shallow breaths were better than none. So long as you could breath you could find a way out. A way to control or manage the situation either until you gained freedom or help arrived.
Techno had taught him that.
Had taught both him and Tommy.
Wilbur had always assumed his older brother had just been paranoid when they were kids. Overly protective as Piglin's generally were for their kin. But right now he was grateful for the drills and lessons. He was pretty sure without them he'd be freaking out about now. His own instincts screaming at him to flail and pull and panic and struggle, to fight for freedom, were only barely contained by the mere logic of what he'd been taught.
Breath.
Focus.
Take in your surroundings.
With a shaky breath Wilbur moved on to the next step.
Looking around the room Wil noted the blood stains on the floor, the ones not created from Tommy. He had seen them earlier he was sure. Not only when he'd come in on Techno thrashing the man it belonged to, he hadn't been paying attention then. But he had when he had come back down the stairs after everything was over and Tommy was being taken home.
There had been so much, and the drag marks had been… Surely the man died had died of blood loss. Surely…
He had been an idiot to assume that so quickly.
It was fuzzy, but Wilbur recalled staring at the blood, spitting at it, in fact, with a few choice words. He had brushed it aside as the remnants of the dead-
He didn't bother to look around, didn't bother to see where the drag marks went. Why would he? With that much lost blood he would either find a dissolving body or a corpse depending on if the man had had any lives left. Either way it just wasn't worth the wasted time.
Instead Wilbur turned his attention to the pile of Techno's things on the ground…
'A few things' Techno had said, like a liar. Who the hell just casually carries around that much gear? How many blades did one person need? And was that dynamite?
…
Okay, so Wilbur could understand that one, but that was beside the point.
Taking a breath Wilbur sighed heavily, crouching down to start picking things up. It was then that something occurred to him. Out of all the things in the basement there was one item Techno would want back more than anything.
The boar mask.
He stood-
He remembered standing.
He turned around-
He could recall the sudden rush of air at his back.
A splitting pain and everything was dark
Wilbur turned his head to the side, pressing his cheek to the cold stone as he drew in another breath. He had been blindsided. Sucker punched by a man he'd assumed dead for no other reason than the floor being painted red.
Idiot.
He knew better than that.
Taking in another breath Wilbur craned his neck to be looking at Techno's pile of things once more. With so many blades there Wilbur would easily be able to-
…
There was no pile.
Squinting or not Wilbur couldn't deny what he was seeing, or rather failing to see. While he had been knocked out the man had apparently picked up his brothers belongings.
That was….highly unfortunate.
…
Fuck it. That fucking sucked.
That was absolutely terrible, in fact. Not just from sense of being robbed, but Techno didn't exactly carry around 'cheap' gear. He knew for a fact Techno always carried around the Netherite sword their father had forged for him too. Rich with enchantments that, in all honestly, very few people were qualified to even handle safely.
Fuck.
Wilbur tried to shift and roll onto his stomach, wincing once more as the ropes crushed his wings together. There had to be something sharp nearby. Some thing he could use to free himself. It was either that or wait like a damsel in a basement.
Tempting, but no.
He could try screaming, seeing as his mouth wasn't gagged but…that seemed like a poor idea. After all, if the man was still near he didn't want to bring further attention to himself. At least, not until his arms were free. At the same time he also knew there were only a few houses around them, and none of them had looked in use. There wasn't much point in calling out for people who weren't there.
"Such a shame for you, isn't it?" A voice spoke up in the room suddenly.
Wilbur would have jumped were he not bound and prone.
"One of the greatest skills of a Phantom and you can't even make use of it." The voice stated with a dry chuckle as it drew nearer, "An almost perfect survival talent that becomes useless after just a bit of pain."
The man speaking came into Wilbur's view before he himself could turn to find him. It wasn't the same person as before. Not the one that had hurt Tommy. That man had been bigger, almost bulky while his man here was thinner and taller, possibly even taller then Wilbur himself. Though he wasn't exactly sure of that from his position on the floor.
Wilbur huffed a breath and fought against rolling his eyes at the man's words despite the panic his presence brought. It was an outdated belief for starters. Even in pain a Phantom could use their abilities. It was just…not entirely safe. In truth Wilbur would have easily chanced it himself by now for sure. Unfortunately he'd…he'd already pushed his luck on it earlier. His father had been right to scold him for his overuse as he was now effectively stuck.
"We made sure to handle that while you were sleeping." The man chuckled as he went on, standing directly before Wilbur and crouching down to lean over him.
Wilbur tried to shuffle back but only managed to awkwardly roll onto one of his wings forcing him to stop. The man snickered as he reached out to place a hand on Wil's cheek.
"Don't touch me!" Wilbur growled out, eyes narrowing and lighting with a warning sour green glow.
"And what are you going to do about it?" The man asked softly, mockingly, as he instead traced his hand further along Wil's face until his fingers were weaving into his hair.
Wilbur could feel the other's fingers as they glanced over the spines of his ear and it made his skin crawl. A shiver traveled through his body as he tried to keep the threatening look in place. Wilbur let out a warning snarl before baring his teeth. He turned his head to snap at the hand on him but before he could his snarl crumbled into a pained whine instead.
The man had been faster and had curled his fingers tightly around Wil's ear, enough so that Wil was sure he could feel the delicate membrane tear at the sudden movement. The grip was tight and drew an even more pained whimper out of him as the man gave his head a jerk. The only thing saving his ear from further damage being that his hair was also tangled in the hold.
"So predictable. Feral too. I would have expected such things from your younger brother. Though, I supposed he had to learn it from somewhere."
"Let- Let go of me." Wilbur tried to demand despite the shake in his voice from the pain.
He kept his glare in place but it was tinged with held back tears.
"No. I don't think I will." The man stated before starting to stand up.
Wilbur yelped as the hold on his ear never faulted, the man pulling him up as well. The bastard had at least used his other hand to grab at Wil's sweater for added leverage on the way up. Wilbur was certain if he hadn't then his ear would have ripped entirely off.
Now on his feet Wilbur could tell that, yes, the man was indeed taller than him. Almost by half a head in fact. He had long distinctively pale hair as well, but he wasn't focused enough to note color. It was tied back carefully out of the way that was reminiscent of how Techno did his when sparring.
Once Wil was on his feet the man shoved him against the wall, pinning him in place once more as he loomed overhead. Wilbur let out an involuntary pained croak as his wings were further crushed behind him. He was sure he felt something pop in one of them as well.
"You see, Wilbur, you have caused me a fair bit of losses." The man stated casually enough, only now letting go of Wil's ear.
The man stared at his hand a moment, frowning at the blue tinted substance that leaked form the torn membrane. Wilbur could feel the blood already starting to trickle down his neck. A petty part of his brain wished the man would be dumb enough to try to wipe off on his clothing.
Instead said man reached out again and slid his hand down Wil's own chest, smearing the blue over the once golden yellow material. Wil only grimaced as he cast a withering glare at the other.
"I don't regret to inform you that I am not in any way sorry." Wilbur quipped with a visible snarl that showed off his sharpened teeth.
The man let out a sigh, almost like he was disappointed.
Before Wilbur could make another comment he found his head snapping harshly to the side as his cheek bloomed with a stinging pain. It was enough to steal the breath right out of him as his vision blurred with fresh tears. The man was shaking out his hand as he stared Wil down, seeming to consider something. Another strike to the face had Wilbur gasping and almost slumping to the side, only to be harshly tugged back into place by the hand that was wrapped in his shirt fabric.
"Your kind-" The man started, pausing as he slapped Wilbur again across the face, "Your 'family'-"
Another strike.
"Are nothing more than rude-"
A backhanded smack over his cheekbone, which he could feel split.
"Shameless- "
A higher blow to the face that threatened to gift him a black eye and left him wavering on his feet.
"Unsightly creatures." The man delivered a final smack to Wilbur's other cheek before pausing.
Wilbur was panting fairly heavily under the assault, his legs weak beneath him. He did his best to hold himself up though, not wanting to be tugged up for a third time. The man certainly hit heavy, but Wilbur had been in a fair bit of scuffles before. He could take a beating if he needed to. He could withstand it.
"All you hybrid types have forgotten your place." The man was saying, his tone calm but dangerous.
It almost reminded Wilbur of his father. When the blonds anger would boil and simmer into the false calm of a storm ready to unleash an unholy hell upon those stupid enough to actually break his patience and good will. To any foolish enough to hurt his family.
This was different though.
This man was edged with a threat that had no soft sides. His voice betrayed a lack of anything gentle behind it even if he tried, as if the idea of 'gentle' itself was foreign to him. The 'calm' here wasn't decisive or a warning, it wasn't even calculating. It was merely a foreshadowing for the cruelty already resting in his fingertips, itching to get out.
Itching to be used.
"It was supposed to be a simple hand off. An easy exchange." The man started once more, letting go of Wilbur entirely as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves.
Wilbur didn't have the current strength to do more than just stand slouched on the wall to regain his breath and the man knew it. Wilbur knew that he knew, and that honestly pissed him off more than the beating he just gotten.
Wil took advantage of the brief pause to lean over and spit out the welling of blue from his mouth before he gagged on it. The taste was already making him feel ill, but that was a small thing compared the whole mess of trouble around him. The man before him barely paid him mind other than to glower down at the off colored blood that now sat near his shoe.
Wilbur was disappointed he hadn't thought to aim better.
"All you needed to do was stick to the plan. Deliver the letter and stay out of the way." The man stated with another unhappy huff as he moved the conversation along, "Perhaps we hadn't made your letter clear enough."
Wilbur's snarl prickled back up at that, his growl returning enough to be audible.
Oh, his letter had been clear. But fuck that. He wasn't going to just, deliver a ransom note to his older brother and just- just, fuck off to the side until it was 'all handled'. Especially not when Tommy was the one on the line. Techno could more than handle himself in these circumstances, but Tommy-
Tommy was still young, still naïve and trusting.
Tommy was his baby brother for fucks sake!
Tommy was…
Tommy was only pulled in this mess because of him.
"fuck-" Wilbur panted out before taking in a slightly deeper breath, "Fuck you."
The man only narrowed his gaze at Wilbur, a flat and cold look that honestly sent a fresh chill down Wil's spine. Wilbur stumbled partly to the side as his legs strength wavered. The man made no move to correct him this time.
"Pathetic... But you'll do." The man stated before turning to look away from Wil.
Wilbur took the opening as he saw it, but he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready and the man had been expecting it.
In a swift motion he had turned the second Wil had started to charge and buried his fist into Wilbur's stomach, forcing the wind from his lungs as he gagged. Wil's vision went spotty but he was aware enough to feel the hand that weaved itself in his hair once more. With his head being forced up Wil tried to focus, to hear what was being said to him.
"-ting a bit more tac- ... -om you. But I ca- ..y I'm surprised."
Fuck.
How hard did he get hit?
"Still we co- …some kind of use for you."
With another wheezed gasp Wilbur let out a fresh strangled yelp as the man pulled him further along and away from the wall by his hair, not caring that Wil's legs had dropped out from under him for a moment.
With a shove Wilbur stumbled forwards, landing roughly against a second body in the room. The person held him up only enough to keep him off the floor, but pressed him now against a wooden beam to remain upright.
"One life for the cost of six isn't usually deemed fair." The first man was saying, his voice the in the cold 'calm' that put Wilbur's nerves on edge, "But, Phantom wings are worth more then twenty. We will consider it reparations for the inconvenience and call our business done."
The ice that filled Wilbur's veins at his words caused his whole body to tremble. That…that wasn't real. Wing Harvesting…that wasn't something that happened on this server. It was a safe server. It-
"Do what you want with him, but keep his wings intact." The man instructed the new arrival as he began to walk towards the stairs leading out, pausing just before the first step, "And do be sure to take his life only after you're detached them. We don't want them deteriorating by mistake, do we?"
"Of course, sir." The other man answered, his grip on Wil's shoulder tightening dangerously.
If Wil's bones were any thinner the mans hold would probably have popped something. If he took any stronger after his father... If he was more like Tommy.
As it were he'd most likely only get bruising. From the hold at least. That was touching nothing on the directions his current captor had just been given. To cut off Wilbur's wings. To cut them off before killing him. Aside from the whole ordeal being nightmare-ish and inhumane, it was also a permanent damage. Respawning wasn't a 'heal all' and anything removed before death was- was…
He was going to lose his wings.
The panic that he'd been managing to suppress since he woke was now bubbling up around him, taking over his carefully faked calm and bravado. His shoulders trembled and his lungs struggled to maintain air. His thoughts muddled with desperate ideas on how to escape and screaming pleas for his family to come find him. To please, please turn back. Turn back and come get him. Please help-
"We're going to have a fun time." A voice chuckled in his ear.
Wilbur jerked away from it but couldn't get far as the hand was still on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed when the taller man had fully left, the door leading upstairs was closed now. He could tell by the lack of light, not that it was fully registering.
"I lost a lot of money thanks to you. Well, mostly due to your brother, but, its all the same isn't it?" This new man was saying, voice amused, but in a bad way, "Still lost out from you too."
Wilbur swallowed hard, trying to think of something, anything to say.
"I-"
"Shhhh, sh, sh, sh." The man cut him off abruptly, placing a nasty, grimy hand over Wil's mouth entirely as he held it tight enough to stop his jaw from moving, "No. More. Words. Not from you. I'm all done listening to your words."
The man stressed the end of his sentence as if he were finally getting the chance to bare some long simmering grudge or resentment. Wil had no idea what it would be about. He…he was fairly sure he didn't know this man. Though, to be fair his head was throbbing and ears ringing enough that he could be wrong.
"I've been waiting a long time for this. So, thank you for giving me the opportunity."
Wilbur struggled against the other's hold and tried to talk again, to ask who he was, to make a noise of any kind that might buy him time. Might stop the other from-
A firm punch to his gut once more had Wilbur curled over and gasping. He staggered a step before the man lifted his foot up enough to kick him in his side, sending him twisting and toppling to the ground. A strangled noise left his throat but it was sharply cut off by the pained gagging as he almost choked on his tongue just trying to pull in a breath.
Blearily Wilbur tried to move back, but he was far slower now than before. He barely had started moving before he felt a foot connect solidly with his stomach, winding him again and sending him rolling across the floor. His wings pinched and stained at the harsh moment, the place that had popped earlier now feeling like it had torn something instead.
Opening his mouth Wilbur wheezed out a plea that was more breath than word. He saw the next kick coming and tensed instinctively. This one had him sliding back and slamming into the wall with a grunt. The man was speaking again, but Wilbur wasn't listening. He was focusing on getting himself to breath again. To get any air in before he blacked out.
He didn't want to know what would happen if he blacked out.
He had to think of something though. The longer this went on the less he'd be able to think. To be able to plan. There had to be something he could do. Something he could use-
There was...well, something. It wasn't much, but it was at least something.
Closing his eyes tight Wilbur tried to focus on himself. On his form. On-
He was being lifted up but his shirt, more words being spilled at him that he was ignoring. The man gave him a violent shake before seeming to grow angry. Wilbur had barely gotten his feet under him when he felt himself twisting in the air, a sense of vertigo blooming and distorting the world around him until he once more connected with the rough stone floor. He had been tossed a fair distance across the room.
He could feel a tacky moist substance begin sticking to him, on his skin and on his clothing. Peeking an eye open Wil's stomach turned when saw the brownish-redish smear of blood on his person. It was already aging giving it a stronger metallic scent than it had earlier. The fact that there were bits of feather in it-
A boot to the head had Wilbur's vision going spotty as he let out another pained gasp. The daze from this one showed with an obvious swayed motion from Wil as he tried to remain awake. A desire that the man seemed to share.
He drew close to Wil, pulling him up by the shirt and bringing them face to face. Wilbur's head lulled loosely to the side and forced the man steady it with a hand. More words were said, but Wilbur was only really aware of said hand that had come to rest on the side of his face. It was only there a moment longer before the man used it to give him a slap to bring him back around.
Damn it all if it didn't work too.
With second slap Wilbur gasped sharply, shocked with a moment of distinct wakefulness before the pained fog inched back in. It wasn't as heavy as before but it still kept Wilbur from any true sense of 'clarity'. Still, he had had enough time to focus his gaze, his glare, at this man. A face that...he almost recalled seeing before.
Without thinking on it though Wilbur made his move. Twisting his body as much as he could Wilbur let out a guttural snarl and opened his mouth wide. The man flinched back, ready to defend…from the front.
Before the man could realize what was happening Wilbur wrapped his tail around the others neck. At the same time he lunged forwards enough to sink his fangs into the mans arm. He ignored the coppery taste as his mouth filled with crimson as flesh and muscle were easily torn.
The man screamed, he flailed and struggled and Wilbur refused to let go. The man clawed at Wil's tail with his nails, pulling membrane like skin away with each passing of them. It hurt, it burned and stung but it was nothing compared to what it would be like to be severed from his wings.
So Wilbur held on.
Choking and coughing on blood without loosening from the limb he had trapped for fear of losing the minor leverage he had managed to get. The man, however, was stronger than him, and had more clarity of thought once the initial stun wore off.
The hand that had been clawing at his tail instead turned to beating at his face. Wilbur withstood three strikes before he was forced to let go, spitting out blood that was both red and blue. With fury the man proceeded to drive his foot into Wil's torso once more, sending him rolling into yet another wall.
Wilbur let out a yelp of pain as he felt something pierce his back. The man didn't follow after him though, tending to his arm most likely. It gave Wilbur a second to breath, though it was spent in fear of what had just stabbed him from behind. A flickering thought of maybe one of Techno's knives having been left behind after all.
Carefully and as quiet as he could Wilbur curled his tail upwards behind him to locate the item in question. The end of his tail met an obvious handle. The whole of the knifes blade seeming to have been embedded into his back. An unpleasant thought, but time was ticking.
This was another chance.
Another opportunity.
Steeling himself Wilbur wrapped his tail around the handle fully and carefully pulled it free. A pained whined escaped him and his body shivered at the feeling of the blades removal. He allowed himself a moment to breath, all gasping breaths with fearful chitterings escaping him between.
Carefully Wilbur lifted the knife up with his tail and got to work trying to cut through the binds on his arms. If he kept the rest of his body slack he hoped to give his attacker a false sense of ease. Hopefully enough that he might consider truly going to tend to his injury and give Wilbur an even better opening to escape.
Of course, he would never be so lucky. Wilbur only managed to cut through the ropes on one wrist, apparently they had been tied separately, before he heard the heavy clodding footfalls of his attacker. Wil quickly dropped the blade into his hand before he was being roughly tugged back to his feet by his shirt.
"You spindly ghost fuck." The man breathed out heatedly, pulling Wil's face close to his own, "You're going to pay for that"
Wilbur met the mans gaze with a glare of his own, weak but still managing to get his eyes to glow.
"Get, fucked you bastard." Wilbur breathed out before he let out a seething snarl of his own.
Bringing his freed hand up quickly Wilbur screamed out as he stabbed for the man's chest, the largest target and right before him. The blade, shimmering with enchantment, easily cut through the mans clothing and sunk into him all the way to the handle. Just as it had when Wilbur had slid into it.
The man cried out and before Wilbur could retract the blade for a second go the man was shoving Wil back harshly against the wall. His wings creaked and he felt a second pop before he crumbled to the ground with a shudder.
With his one free hand Wilbur attempted to stagger to his feet, to careen himself towards the stairs. He would rather risk bursting into flame in the sunlight than to remain here where his wings were at stake. At least if he burned to death he would respawn with all his limbs.
He didn't reach the first step before a searing pain burst into his shoulder. A hand gripped his arm and whirled him forcefully around before a punch to his jaw sent him down and onto his back. Wilbur let out louder cry of pain here as he definitely felt one of his wings fully dislocate at the drop.
Without hesitation the man moved to be standing over Wilbur, kicking his freed hand out away from the newest knife wound. Wilbur barely finished shouting a curse at the man before the heavy boot came crashing down on his arm with a sickening crunch. The cry that burst out of Wilbur echoed in the small basement and rang in his own ears.
All Wilbur could even think to do at that point was to curl around his arm, a sob breaking through his pained whines. The man remained standing there, panting as he stared down at Wilbur. After a moment he leaned down and pulled the blade from Wil's shoulder, but Wil barely noticed it. Shuddering on the floor as he failed to cradle his arm.
"Stubborn asshole aren't you?" The man asked, spitting out a bit of blood at the end.
It landed on Wilbur's shoulder, but he was beyond a state to care in. The man's boot had come hard enough to crack through his communicator, which was now partially embedded into his arm. He wasn't sure if it saved him a broken bone considering the pain he felt and the inability to move his fingers anymore.
"This has been…cathartic. Not entirely what I would have wished for, but close enough. No need to get greedy, right?" The man went on, stepping away from Wilbur and out of his sight.
"Now, I really should focus on the job I'm being paid for. Fetching those pricey wings from your back."
Wilbur swallowed hard, shuddering at the thought and realization that…he couldn't stop this. He couldn't defend himself any more than he already had. He…he was going to be mutilated and-
"You- you don't-" Wilbur forced out between gasping breaths, "Don't h-have to-"
"I do what I'm paid for, and it pays well. The fact that its you, well, if I were a fool I'd have offered them a discount for the pleasure."
"I- I don't even- even know you!" Wilbur choked out, trying to turn his head towards the other but failing to see where they'd gone to.
"Don't know me?" The man asked before laughing, "How hard did you hit your head? Or do you just really pay that little attention?"
Wilbur swallowed hard as he failed to have an answer.
"I shouldn't be so surprised I guess. Family like yours, assuming you're all so high and mighty."
"We don't-"
"Of course you do. You always have. Just because of your father and his title. The living myth and his supposed 'divine' wife." The man went on as anger and disgust grew in his voice, "A fair way to talk around your father sleeping around. What better way to explain the hog and pigeon brotherhood but divine parentage?"
The man stalked up from behind Wilbur and grabbed him by the hair, dragging him backwards with a cry. Wilbur was tugged onto some kind of fabric, but he wasn't paying it any mind.
"Spreading your stupid stories all over town and smiling as if you might actually be born of some divine force. Just another animal thinking its better than people. Real people."
"We are real people!" Wilbur tried to argue, but by now the man was ranting far too deeply.
"Its bad enough your kind was allowed into town, and then into the arena. Our work being overtaken by your whore father, our victories being stolen by your freak pig of a brother. Then, to make things worse, we get to hear all about it. From. You."
The man was standing over Wilbur again, his expression livid while his eyes gazed coldly down at Wil's prone form. Once more Wilbur felt a fear sweep through him causing him to shudder under that stare.
"You would come in with your tales and stories and recounts of all the 'great' things your family was doing. Even when your brother left we weren't free. You just- you just, spouted more of them. Going on and on and on and on about him doing this and that as if-" He paused his rant to lean down closer to Wilbur's face, "As if he hadn't stolen that from us. From the people here who deserved it over some livestock that learned to talk!"
Wilbur shuddered at the volume of the last shouted words. By now the man was all but sitting on his chest. Even as Wil tried to writhe or squirm he failed to move even an inch. The man leaned closer, until their faces were matched evenly and Wilbur felt the tremors of fear ripple through him when their eyes met.
It was a cold gaze that bore a seething anger and no sense of remorse. There was no regret or hesitation, just a determination. A desire for what was to come.
"So, I'm going to take from your family, to balance the scale." The man stated coolly, softly as he brought a hand up to touch at Wil's chin.
He didn't dare move this time. Didn't fight it. The man's fingers traced over an open wound before lowering down his cheek. Wilbur swallowed thickly as the knot of dread in his stomach only grew.
"But, more specifically, I'm going to take something from you. I was going to take one of your chicken brother's wings before they handed him over, but you mucked that all up for us. But, I think I've come up with something better."
The mans hand came to rest at Wilbur's neck, Wil's eyes widening when he felt fingers curling over his throat. In an instant Wilbur was trying to thrash around, trying to dislodge the other off of him with any twisting or jerking movement he could manage. With his free hand he tried to claw or tug at his assailants arm, but with his fingers barely able to move it was to no avail. The man was firmly set as well as he steadily added more weight into his hold, other hand joining in. He leaned over so that he was speaking into Wilbur's ear, unable to be ignored.
"Once I take your wings, I'm going to cut your throat before killing you." He stated in a cold matter-of-fact manner, "When you respawn you'll be a flightless, useless, silent son of a bastard."
Wilbur croaked out a whine as he continued to struggle against the man. Kicking his feet, lashing out with his tail and scraping with his useless claws anywhere he could. He even struggled to dig unto the bite wound the man had barely wrapped up.
The man in turn only grunted out his pain and leaned harder into his grip. It was a battle of time and Wilbur's was running out. His mouth opened in a desperate gasp, his hand reaching clumsily for the others face in a last ditch effort to save himself.
The room had already been dim, but now it was fading out into the ever threatening darkness. The white speckles in his vision being swallowed up by the blurring of his tears and encroaching forced slumber.
When he woke up next, would he still be in this basement? Would he still be at the hands of this psychopath, one wing down and still praying for a rescue?
Or would he wake up in his own bed? Laying beside his younger brother with two less wings and unable to ever say his name again?
Wilbur was only barely aware of the sound of a crack, part of his foggy brain telling him it was his neck. Wishing it was his neck. If it was then…then he could respawn before-
There was no longer a weight on top of him, but even then it took a fair moment before he gasped in his first breath of air. His now dulled gaze remained upwards at the ceiling for some time as he sat in a muted void for what felt like ages. He only slowly began to realize there were other noises in the room, and was even slower to think he should be concerned with them.
He was slow to allow his head to lull to the side, just enough to see the blur of a figure moving off to his right. The noises were wet sounding and the motions were faster than his eyes could follow at the moment. All he could think was one thing.
Pink was such a beautiful color.
